AU where Arthur doesn't die

The night Arthur Pendragon arrives home in Camelot, it's raining. Absentmindedly, he supposes that this is the reason that he hasn't encountered a single guard on his way towards the town, despite deliberately heading towards one of the areas that should be most heavily fortified.

Then again, he thinks wearily, things are different now.

He doesn't know how long it's been since the battle at Camlann, only that the leaves have fallen from the trees now. He doesn't know what happened, only that he was dying, losing his grip on the life he so desperately wanted to keep, and then he wasn't.

What he does know, though, is that he wants to return to Guinevere.

For almost every waking moment since Mordred stabbed him, he's thought of her, thought of the woman who had, over the years, become his rock. He had begged Merlin to take him home to her, rather than to Avalon, and in those moments he was convinced he was about to leave this world, all he wanted was to feel her touch. Whilst he's glad now that Merlin—as usual—disregarded his direct instruction, all he wants is Gwen.

He's been walking for more time than he can remember now, through the day and then through the night, and then through the following day and night, but he won't stop. He won't stop until he gets home, no matter how much he hurts.

Merlin didn't want him to come home now; he urged him to wait, to regain more strength before making the mammoth journey, but Arthur refused. He told his most trusted advisor that he may stay longer at the lake, but that the king would be making his return to his queen that day and nobody could stop him.

They've been together for the vast majority of this journey, Merlin's support and advice helping him carry on, despite the pain, despite the weariness that threatens to overcome him. Though he's still not sure how Merlin managed to hide his magic from him for over a decade, Arthur's beginning to understand the extent of the sacrifices Merlin has made for him, for Camelot, over the years—and he's gracious.

Without Merlin, he wouldn't have a kingdom to rule.

But without Gwen, he wouldn't want to rule.

Shortly before they reached the woods surrounding the town of Camelot, Merlin peeled off, informing Arthur that he would meet with him in the morning, in his chambers—but this final stage was something the king had to do alone. It's something that Arthur's grateful for; he wants a few moments alone to clear his head, to decide how exactly to reintroduce himself to his queen.

He's almost at the gates before he even sees one of Camelot's guards, huddled over a fire, trying desperately to keep warm despite the constant rainfall.

It's at this point that Arthur's conflicted. Does he introduce himself to the town first, reassociate himself with the crown and ruling? Or does he go directly to Guinevere, and reacquaint himself with the one woman that really matters?

It isn't a difficult choice, to be honest.

He sneaks past the guard with ease, thinking wryly that whoever has replaced him as the commander of the army needs to spend more time focusing on sentry duty. It's almost too easy to make his way into the castle without being spotted; there's only one time that he has to duck behind one of the castle's tapestries, and that's to avoid a servant carrying what looks like the remnants of an evening meal.

The journey's so easy that he's reached their chambers' door before he's even decided what to say. Everything he's thought of over the course of the last two days doesn't seem quite enough; she's had to live with the mistaken knowledge that he's dead—simply entering the room and stating 'I'm alive!' doesn't seem enough to him.

He starts by knocking, three raps followed by two short bursts of three taps, the secret code they had used back when Uther was still alive, and their relationship had been a secret. It isn't the most foolproof way of reintroducing himself—but it's a start.

Gwen's voice seems wary as she calls, "Enter," and Arthur gives himself a second to mentally prepare for the following reunion.

But then he opens the door and sees her for the first time since Camlann—and she's more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair's in a messy plait and she's dressed for bed, though she's holding some document in her hand.

As she looks at him, he watches the emotions change on her face from confusion to shock, from disbelief to grief; he watches as the colour drains from her face, and as she stumbles backwards. The parchment falls from her hand as her hand goes to clutch her stomach—something which is much more pronounced than it was when they had last met—and she's falling back against the fireplace and closing her eyes, whispering incoherently.

"Guinevere," Arthur says quietly, taking one step into the room and kicking the door closed behind him. "I'm sorry."

Slowly, Gwen opens her eyes, tears streaming down her face, her head shaking furiously. "No. You're dead, Arthur, you…you died with Merlin. He tried to save you, but he didn't—you're dead. How are you here?"

He takes another slow, measured step in her direction, his arms open wide. For a split second, his eyes catch sight of himself in a mirror, and it's difficult to recognise himself. There are bags under his eyes, his hair is full of mud and twigs, and he looks about a decade older than he actually is. He's surprised she recognises him at all.

"I didn't die," he begins, deciding that stating the obvious is probably the best course of action. "Merlin, he took me to the Lake of Avalon, where they managed to remove the last part of the blade Mordred used to stab me. It took a long time for me to manage to stay awake for more than an hour, and I begged Merlin to send word to you that I live.

"I have missed you more than anything. I'm sorry."

For the first time, Gwen looks away from him, turning her gaze on the desk in the far corner of their chambers. She's still shaking her head, her lips moving but nothing audible coming out. Arthur decides to wait until she says something, though every fibre of his being wants nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and tell her again and again how much she means to him.

Then, finally, she says something.

"Am I finally going mad?" She's stopped shaking her head, and she's stopped crying now, which Arthur supposes is something. "Gaius told me that grief sometimes does this to people, especially when with child—but I thought I had avoided it." She laughs a little, but it doesn't sound like the laugh Arthur loves, but rather bitter and sarcastic. "Evidently I was wrong."

Her words knock the wind out of him, and this time, it's his turn to take a step backwards. "I…with child?" The words don't make sense to him; they'd tried for almost five years to have a child, so how was she pregnant? "How long?"

She smiles, a small, pensive smile that reminds Arthur of the simpler days. "Gaius says the child is three months grown. We presume it was the one positive thing that came out of Camlann." The smile's gone and the tears are back as she finally turns back to face him fully. "Oh, Arthur. Is it really you?"

He's not sure how or who moves first, but suddenly they're both in one another's arms, and he's pressing his face into her hair, and she's crying into his shoulder. They're finally together again, and he promises that he'll never leave her—or their child's—side again.

Going back to being the King of Camelot is harder than he had thought it would be.

After spending the night alone with Guinevere, the morning after brought the announcement of his return to the Court, and to the people of the town. Most refused to believe he lived until they saw him with their own eyes, and even Sir Leon was sceptical—but the appearance of Merlin helped to quiet their disbelief.

Once again, Merlin had saved the day.

Even now, three weeks later, he still spends most of the night awake with Gwen in his arms, mourning the friends he lost. He mourns Morgana, for though it was her who brought about this mess, it was their father who had sown the seeds for the destruction she wrought. In a different life, one where magic had never been outlawed and their father had been honest, they would have been both part of the greatest dynasty the world had ever known.

In this life, however, Morgana was dead and their father had been a tyrant.

They rule jointly now, Arthur and Guinevere, and one of the first decisions they made together was to remove the ban on magic within the kingdom. There are still some limitations—magic cannot be used to harm, only to help, and the few who still support Morgana's claim to the throne are outlawed—but all sorcerers are free to practice their craft now.

Merlin advises them both jointly, still the idiot he always had been, yet much more openly wise in his judgements. Back when Arthur was dying, Merlin had said that he had been born to serve Arthur—but Arthur didn't agree. Merlin was born to fulfil his own destiny, and his own destiny was to help unite the kingdoms to create Albion. Though much work remains to be done in order to get universal peace across the kingdoms, Arthur dreams that there will be no more war by the time his child ascends the throne.

They still haven't properly discussed Merlin's magic, and in which of the many problems encountered over the years it had been used, and in truth, Arthur's a little scared to. Just before he falls asleep, he worries that he's never proven himself over the years, and that he isn't the right ruler for Camelot. Merlin's the one who probably solved everything over the years, not him.

"Welcome to the annual Spring Tourney," Guinevere states, standing high above the rest of the populace. It's been six months since Camlann and her stomach increasingly protrudes, something Arthur comments on as he says talks to their child at night. "It has been a difficult year for the kingdom, but we are coming out of it stronger than ever, with everlasting peace almost upon us. King Arthur and myself would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your support in the negotiations with our neighbours, and would like to wish you all luck in this tourney."

She looks down at all of the participants, but at Arthur in particular, and smiles, looking as radiant as ever to him. He hadn't wanted to participate in this tourney—whilst he felt he was at full strength again, he didn't want to do anything which might threaten his life—but Guinevere had insisted. "You enjoy the tourneys, and anyway, you need the practice. You will be fine, Arthur; you are the greatest warrior the kingdom has ever had," she had said, but he still didn't want to.

In the end, it had been Merlin who persuaded him. His servant-turned-advisor had told him that he was being a coward, trying to find any excuse not to do a day's work—"after all, what else are you good for than fighting? Gwen makes the decisions about the people, I help her decide which kingdoms to ally with, whilst you sit around and eat all day! It's about time you do something, Arthur,"—and Arthur had to, albeit grudgingly, agree.

He's still scared, though. Before, he might have been the greatest warrior in all the kingdoms, but now…now he doesn't know what he is. Leon isn't as fierce as he once was in training, and the rest of the knights are too scared to fight him—probably fearful that one jab in the wrong place could leave Camelot without a king again.

But, despite everything his brain is thinking, holding a sword seems right. He twists it around casually without thinking, and his body moves into an offensive position without him asking it to.

Perhaps he's still the old Arthur after all.

Their son is born in the early hours of a Monday morning, and he's tinier than Arthur ever expected. There was a moment when Gaius said they may lose both Guinevere and the baby, and it was only then that Arthur began to understand what his queen had gone through in his three month absence. He thought he had known, but he hadn't: the deep, horrifying fear that the woman he loved (and their child) would never open her eyes and see him again…it was the worst thing he had ever felt. He couldn't—can't—imagine a life without her, and it's lucky that she didn't die; if she had, he doesn't think he could have carried on ruling.

But that isn't something he needs to think about, because they're now a family of three, and his heart is ready to burst with pride.

They still haven't got a name, because nothing they considered seemed to fit. When they discussed it before, Gwen was very quiet, before she finally admitted that the only name she had considered in her early pregnancy was Arthur, for him.

It takes a few days, and an awful long time trawling through records and the Pendragon family tree with Merlin, to come up with a name that both he and Gwen agree on, and even then, it's not anything that they've ever known anyone to have.

"Welcome to Camelot, Merwaine Pendragon," Arthur murmurs, as he holds his son on the balcony for all of Camelot to see. "May you never see the destruction of peace."

There are still some nights when Arthur can't sleep, when all he can do is think about the friends he lost and the months he spent away from Guinevere. But now they have Merwaine, Gwen's awake too, and she helps him forget.

There are still problems with the negotiations with their neighbouring kingdoms, days when all Arthur wants is to cut Camelot off from the rest of the world and live in peace. But now he has Merlin's advice, no stumble is too great for him to rise from.

There are still sorcerers who want nothing but to harm Camelot, enemies who want to see Camelot burn. But Arthur has learnt from his father's mistakes, from his sister's mistakes, from his mistakes. He won't outlaw magic again.

Camelot is different now—and Arthur's glad.