Merlin opened the door to Arthur's chambers.

It had been years since he'd been required to enter here. He'd not been Arthur's manservant for over forty years. Not since the day of Gaius' death. He'd taken the role of Court Physician and Sorcerer. And not once in those forty years had Arthur required him to heal him.
Sure, Guinevere had needed him during birth, and he'd cured every single on of Arthur's son's childhood ailments, but Arthur never sickened. Of course, as friends, they never left each others sides.

"Old friend," Arthur spoke, then coughed painfully. The flesh around his eyes was dark, but the rest of him was paper pale. Merlin's heart ached to see him in this state; old, frail and at the edges of death.
"You asked to see me, My Lord?" He bowed his head to the King, blinking back tears. Arthur gave a low laugh that made his chest ache. Merlin quirked his eyebrow, staring straight into his eyes.

His King slowly got out of bed, hobbling on painfully swollen ankles. His final days had not been kind to him, but if Arthur felt the pain, he certainly did not show it. He held onto one of his cupboards and turned to look at Merlin, a flash of youth in his eyes and the gentle smile that Merlin had become so accustomed to.
"You cannot address me like that," Arthur spoke softly, reminiscing on his first few memories with the man in front of him now. Merlin had aged well. A few laughter lines around his eyes had graced his face, but that was all. As Arthur's hair greyed and thinned, Merlin's grew longer and became a shocking white. His body had maintained an essence of his youth, but Arthur's body began to recede.

"I – what?" Merlin was confused.
"You cannot address me like that," He spoke up louder. Arthur meant it to. Why should this man in front of him have to bow before him? Arthur knew he owed his entire life to Merlin; he shouldn't have to bow before anybody. A joyful smile crept onto Arthur's face and Merlin couldn't help but smile back, almost lulled into a false sense that his King, his Arthur, was okay. "I've called you here as I want you to be the one to take me to Avalon,"
"Me?"
"Yes, Merlin, you. Who else would I be asking?" He walked towards his old friend, slowly, and put his arm on his shoulder. "You are a loyal friend. The roots of our friendship burrow further than any other, you must be the one to take me. We leave within the hour,"
"Sire, do you think it wise that we –"
"My mind is made, Merlin, we are leaving," Arthur's voice sounded harsher than he wanted it to, but Merlin just nodded. It was his final wish – Merlin couldn't deny him of his last joy.

Arthur coughed again, wheezing and finding it hard to catch his breath. It broke Merlin's heart. He'd seen Arthur at his finest, seen him in his youth, at his strongest, and now the man before him was fragile. "We ride in an hour," Arthur choked out again, his voice sounding weaker than before.
"Yes, Sire," Merlin dipped his head in a bow when he believed Arthur was not looking then left to organise everything.

***

Arthur and Merlin's horses ran faster than they'd made them for a long time. Arthur wanted to feel free, to feel the Earth's wind on his face for the last time. He wanted to feel as though he was young again.
And it worked.
He thought of the times he was running through these woods as a child. The patrols with his men. The battles, the hunting – he even thought of Morgana. Oh Morgana… His beautiful, corrupted sister. When he thought about her, he didn't think of the wicked, twisted woman she became eventually, but the beautiful, long haired ward of his father. The girl who always smiled, the gentle girl who he'd grown up with. And despite all she'd done to him, done to his friends and Camelot, he loved her with love only siblings share.

It took all his strength to not cry for the loss of her. And even more so for the loss of his wife, Guinevere. She'd survived three births to three boys, but old age had finally parted them. He'd seen the loss of everybody that he'd ever loved. Morgana. Gwen. His Knights. His father. Gaius. Everybody. But Merlin stayed. Merlin always stayed.
He allowed his horse to slow slightly, he didn't want it dying before they'd even reached Avalon.

"Sire, do you think we should stop to rest?" Merlin asked, looking behind him and almost losing his balance.
"I have the rest of eternity to rest, Merlin, we need to hurry," He said feebly. Without protest, his horse ran faster, overtaking Merlin. Arthur coughed into his hand, painfully and brutally.

Merlin then knew there was no saving him this time.

They sat, eating a final meal together on the shores. They laughed at everything, and refused to talk about darker times. Arthur wanted Merlin's last memories of him to be happy. To be kind.
He laid down, putting his head in Merlin's lap, staring up at him. Merlin stroked Arthurs face affectionately, feeling nothing but pride and love for the man.
"We've had our fun, haven't we, my friend?" His breathing was slowing, but Arthur's eyes never left Merlin's. Tears pricked in his eyes, realisation hitting him and freezing him to the core.
"Yes, yes we have," He smiled, beginning to cry. His voice was strained, mixing nostalgia, heartbreak and pain. He sniffed and Arthur looked up at him.
"We'll meet again. I promise you, we'll meet again, old friend," He was leaving him. Arthur was leaving Merlin and Merlin could not join. He sniffed and looked up, at the water, wiping his eyes, then looked back down.

He looked down and saw, in Arthur's eyes, the Arthur that he first met.
"I could never be friends with someone who is such an arse," His voice broke and he sobbed slightly, looking his best friend in the eyes, still stroking his face with all the affection of before.
"Or I who could be so stupid," Arthur smiled, sighing while taking his last breath.