Her eyes had become dark ponds of sorrow ever since her King, her so beloved King and husband Arthur failed to come back to her arms that day, dying in the arms of another.
Years and years had passed, her child had grown to be just like his father: Blonde, brave and king.
Everything he did, from friendly teassing the searvants to weaving the sword, reminder her of Arthur.
Lancelot was his name, honoring the brave man who had died years ago for his friend and king, and who had loved her so deeply.
In her eyes you could see, however happy she might look, her sorrow not only to have lost the one she held deep in her heart but to have lost so many fine knights and friends...Friends that became foes; friends that had vanished in the thin air. Sometimes she will sit in her chambers, wondering if he had been a dream or a product of her imagination.
His eyes were piercing blue and his hair as dark as charcoal. Merlin.
He had become but an unspoken ghost in the room, a question as big as a dragon in their minds, both Gweneviere and Gaius.
The old man had died six years ago, waiting for his pupil and friend to come back, to be able to hold his hand one last time and give one last advice to the young man.
She feared death was making her way to her bed too, who had been cold for more than 30 years. Her movements had become reckless, her hands shacked and her bones remained cold no matter the weather. Her skin seemed old.
She was still holding onto live, though. Whether it was because she wanted to see her only son marry someone he loved, or because she had a promise to keep with her people, her kingdom, or because she was still waiting for them to show at her doorstep. Both hugging and laughing as they came through the door, or Arthur yelling at Merlin for doing such a bad job with his boots or Merlin being held in Arthur's arms as they rushed through Gaius' chambers because the young servant had taken an arrow for his king.
Whatever the reason might have been, she waited and waited... and waited. Until she didn't.
The knights were gathered around her that evening and they had all swore to protect the future king and the kingdom. She had said her last words to each of them personally, thanking them for their service and loyalty, for always being there in every important decision and having her back in times of war, when kingdoms across their borders had tried to take Camelot after the death of Arthur.
She asked to have her gravestone near her brother and father.
At least, she asked her son to enter the royal chambers. He tried his best to hold back his tears but his puffy, red eyes gave it all away.
"Do not shed a tear, my dear" she said "for my time has come. I have been given a good life and it is time for me to departure, to meet again with your father."
Lancelot bite his lip, nodding to every word she said with her weak breath.
"You have made me proud, darling. Do not fear, you will be a great king just like your father was. Please forgive me for not being able to stay any longer but I feel life being taken away from me"
"Go in peace mother" he said, reassuring her with the most calm voice he could "you have done well. Better than that, you have being a great queen and a better mother. I love you deeply." and with that, he kissed her hand.
"And I love you too, my dear son. Be brave and follow your heart"
A knock on the door interrupted the queen's thoughts.
"I am sorry, My Lady but there is a man here to see you. He claims to be an-" before the servant finished his statement an old raggedy man burst into the chambers.
The future king held his sword against the old man
"Who are you? How dare you come in a moment like this into the Queen's chambers?!"
The old man stared at Lancelot's dark eyes, as if he had forgotten for a second where he was. Then he snapped back to reality and moved the sword away from his face
"I am who I was and I am who I am and I am who I will always be, clotpole. Now move it" and with such words he passed the Prince and head straight to the deathbed of the Queen, saying nothing.
"Long time, my dear" she said as she stared into those piercing blue eyes.
"Long time indeed. I am sorry to visit you now but I..." the old man's voice cracked and tears ran through his face "I couldn't bring myself to face you. I tried my dear but everything I tried seemed to be useless."
The Queen stared at him with puzzled eyes, and said
"No my dear, do not worry anymore. We all have our time and his time had come. I have made my peace with it."
The old warlock stared at her as he held her hand and squished it just a little, feeling very lucky to hear those words for the first time. He had punished himself in isolation for more than 30 years for not being able to save the Once and Future King but now he knew he was forgiven and all his sorrow could be put away.
"I am happy to hear that, my darling"
He glanced at the young prince who stood on the other side of the bed and stared into his eyes as if getting lost in time. Finally he broke the silence
"You look just like your father."
The queen smiled, knowing her old friend was right. He was like the reflection of him, brave and kind.
"I hope you are not as a clotpole as he was, thought" and both warlock and queen giggled to his joke, while the prince looked at them confused.
"Did you know my father, King Arthur?" Lancelot questioned.
"Oh darling" said the Queen "He cleaned your father's boots"
The Prince stared dead serious into Merlin's eyes, recalling all those memories his mother had shared with him when telling him who his father, King Arthur, was. He remembered the mention of a brave young boy, a servant that had stood beside his father in thick and thin. He was described by his mother as a kind and brave person, wise when he was given the chance but clumsy most of the time. That memory of a memory had always been a blur in Lancelot's childhood but he could finally put a face to the myth of Arthur and Merlin, King and Servant; a face a little older than what he expected but Merlin nonetheless.
The Queen coughed, snapping Lancelot away from his thoughts.
"Oh, Gwen… If only I would've come sooner. I could've done something" cried the old man
"There is nothing to apologize, Merlin. My time is here and that is something no medicine can cure nor can your magic"
"Magic?" said Lancelot. Could this man be a sorcerer? This old, helpless, raggedy man?
"Indeed" said Gwen with a whisper "He was there for your father in war. How many times had you saved him from death, my dear? And never searching for credit or fame…"
"Oh but how could I?" questioned Merlin as his eyes filled with bittersweet memories he had buried " The only thing I ever wanted was to help Arthur… and yet at the end I…"
"You were there, weren't you?"
Merlin could only nod, fearing his voice would break if he dared to speak
"Was it peacefully?" continued the old woman.
He nodded one more time and added, with tears running through
"He smiled at the end… and he said 'thank you'"
"Arthur… Arthur said thank you?" they both laughed at that ridiculous thought. Laughed until both coughed a bit.
"He did." And with that Merlin held his Queen's hand. His Once and Future Queen, whose life was fading out peacefully and slowly.
"I must assume safely that it was you at the lake? As the Dolma"
"Also true"
"But how could you..?" using her very last energies she touched her face, imitating the sound of fire and explosions
"How could I change my face?" the old man laughed "Oh my dear if you knew what I could do"
"If only I did…" the Queen's face turned serious as if thinking, as if spacing out and going in between worlds. Time had come, Death could be felt in the room and Prince Lancelot kneeled down next to his mother, holding her bonny hand.
She stared into his eyes saying all she could, all she wanted with that last look. She then turned to her old friend, that young servant she had always shared a special bond with, that brave man who had gotten into the heart of Camelot to protect her beloved at expense of his own life, who had always been so selfless and kindhearted.
"Will you take care of him like you took care of Arthur?" her voice fading away
With tears running through, he nodded.
"I promise. My darling, would you please me one more time? When you see him would you…"
"I promise," she answered without letting him finish. There was no need; she knew what he wanted to say. All that untold gratitude, all that sorrow and apologies, all the looks they shared in silence. Gwen knew Arthur loved her but she also knew there was someone else in his heart, that brave servant, that powerful warlock, that loyal friend. They were inseparable, as if destiny had chosen them to be no one else but King Arthur and Merlin, The Warlock.
"Mother…" whispered Lancelot " I love you."
"I love you too, my son. Listen to him and follow your heart." She squished his hand one last time " Remember where you come from. Remember me, remember us"
The Queen smiled and closed her eyes. Suddenly her grip was lighter, her face expressionless and her body was loosing warmth. Queen Gweneviere was gone.
Merlin whipped the tears from his face, that was the nature of humanity: to live and die, to be and then not to be. To be mortals.
The two had spent the night in the royal chambers, in silence.
The funeral had been solemn and not but a week later the new king of Camelot has raised
"Long live the King!" they shouted, Merlin included now as a part of the Round Table. Table he had helped create; he was there once more, serving his King.
"I've been waiting" he said. He looked just like he did that day, blonde hair, blue eyes and kind smile.
"I am here, finally " her face reflected the joy in her heart as she took his hand once more. She was no longer an old woman but the svelte young lady she used to.
They shared a kiss once more, a kiss that had waited for over thirty years.
She looked into his blue eyes and said
"He came. He says he loves you"
Arthur smiled. Of course he did, he had always and he will always love him. And he loved him back.
Even in death, King Arthur's heart was polarized, fragmented in two. Yet it was big enough to love them both with the same strength. And sometimes, that was enough. More than enough.