Arthur had plenty of time to admire the landscape as the boat wended its leisurely way across the lake. It wasn't just the beauty of the shimmering water as the breeze softly ruffled its surface, or the way the mountains rose majestically, their snowy peaks almost touching the heavens, that drew his attention. He was also captivated by an aura, an atmosphere in the air, which for want of a better word, he described to himself as 'magical'. And he sensed not even a hint of threat or danger in this enchanted location, proving yet again that sorcery could be a thing of peace and beauty.

"Everything here...is so full of life. Every tree, every leaf, every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself."

The words, once spoken by that bumbling servant of his of a different place, came forcefully into his mind. He had been oblivious then, but now, as he set foot ashore upon this sacred land, he finally understood. He felt the vibrations, the rhythm, in every bone in his body. He saw the world anew, through fresh eyes, and it was a revelation. This heightened reality must be the way that Merlin experienced the world. Was this the reason the man had always managed to maintain a cheerful outlook, dispensing words of wisdom and optimism when all seemed lost? He would be sure to discuss it with him when he found him.

Walking a little further inland, he noticed the horse. Standing close to the trees but untethered, it was grazing peacefully. Coming closer, it raised its grey head and whinnied. Arthur wondered if he was being fanciful at first, but he felt it was waiting for him. As he was inexplicably drawn to it, he noticed its majestic stature, glossy coat, and kindly eye. The stables of Camelot housed the finest horses in the land, but even by those exacting standards, this horse was exceptional. And Arthur himself was an expert horseman, and although he had had several horses that he was fond of, he had never found 'the one'. Until now. The magnificence of the gift stunned him. Was this also Freya's doing? He realized that someone must be smoothing his path, and he mouthed a silent thank you to his benefactor as he climbed into the saddle. Almost before he was seated, the horse had turned towards Camelot.

On the journey, he considered how best to make his reappearance. Knowing that everyone must believe him dead, he needed his arrival to be as inconspicuous as possible. He hoped to be able to speak to Gwen before anyone else saw him. He decided the wisest course was to enter the citadel through a side gate that few people were aware of. Unfortunately for his purposes, the gate was manned. The sole guard stood to attention as the king approached. The guard blanched and rocked back on his heels. Arthur feared he was about to faint. The man opened and closed his mouth several times before a sound came out. "But, but... you're...dead," he croaked, eyes almost bulging from their sockets.

"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," the king returned with a grimace. Seeing the guard still frozen as immobile as a statue and unresponsive to his gestures, he was forced to remind him of his duty. "Would you be so kind as to open the gate?"

The man pulled himself together with difficulty, "At once, Sire," he replied, and hurried to do his bidding.

As an afterthought, the king called back, "Do not mention this matter to anyone." Having seen the effect his appearance had had on the guard, he decided it would be necessary to conceal his identity, hoping to pass unnoticed through the castle. "Oh, and lend me your helmet as well."

The man complied without hesitation, and Arthur pulled the helmet on. As he made his way through the castle, no one stopped or challenged him. There was abundant evidence of a kingdom in mourning, and black drapes gloomily adorned every wall. All the people he passed looked preoccupied and miserable and walked with their heads down, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. He was saddened to witness the people of the citadel so demoralized. Their grief was almost tangible.

Reaching Guinevere's chambers, he was surprised to to see that this time no guards were stationed at the door, so he slipped inside, intending to wait for the queen's return. At once, he noticed that some remnants of a meal were on the table and it made him realize how hungry he was. His stomach began to rumble. It was long since he had eaten. He pulled up a chair and began to eat ravenously.

Evening was drawing to a close, and the chamber was in semi darkness when Guinevere entered. Dark shadows inhabited every corner, and although the room was utterly still, she had an unnerving sensation that she was not alone. Shivers went down her spine, and she looked around the room carefully. She almost jumped from fright when she saw a vision of her deceased husband, dressed in chainmail, and sitting quietly in his favourite chair. Coming closer, she saw that his eyes were shut. She knew she must be hallucinating, and she needed help. Gaius would know what to do, but as she rushed towards the door in panic, the vision spoke.

"You really shouldn't wear black, you know. It's not your colour. Purple suits you much better."

She turned and saw the vision watching her intently. "Arthur?" she whispered in disbelief. His voice was unmistakable, but this must be a dream. In a minute she would pinch herself and wake up.

"In person," the vision smiled. Seeing her hesitation, he stood up and opened his arms. "It isn't a dream. I am real. You can touch me," he coaxed gently, as if he had read her mind.

She remained immobile, rooted to the spot, still not daring to believe. "But how? We thought..."

"It's a long story," he said, "but I'm here now, and that's all that matters."

"That's all that matters," she repeated slowly, while the burden of grief that lay heavily on her heart lifted, rendering her dizzy and lightheaded. Then, with a sob of joy, she moved towards him. His arms closed around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, and when his lips found hers, she was no longer in any doubt.

...

Despite the king's instruction to the guard, news of his return had somehow spread through the castle like wildfire. Following a brief meeting with Sir Leon and Sir Percival, Arthur turned his steps towards the physician's chambers. Gaius had been one of the first to be informed, so he was able to maintain his composure when Arthur knocked on his door and entered.

"Sire," he said, "it is wonderful to see you again, but how..."

Arthur was in no mood to prevaricate and had only one question on his mind. "Where is he?"

Gaius had anticipated the enquiry, but could only say with a sad shake of the head. "We don't know, Sire. We have not seen or heard from him since...since..."

"My death?"

Gaius nodded. "I'm afraid so, Sire."

"The fool," the king raged in response. "How could he leave you all without help?" He knew his reaction was irrational, but his disappointment and frustration at Merlin's absence were overpowering.

"Perhaps he couldn't bear to come back here without you. It would have been too painful. The memories..."

He knew this must be the truth, but he attempted to deflect it. "I suppose I should be flattered," he said with a heavy heart, unable to keep the bitterness and regret from his voice.

"You would have mourned him in the same way, I'm sure of it," the physician responded gently.

"Yes, I would have mourned him, but I wouldn't have abandoned Camelot."

"That's because Camelot was your destiny, Sire, while his destiny was you."

Arthur knew the physician had a point. Everything Merlin had done had been for him. He saw that now and wondered how he could have been so oblivious to his servant's actions before. The man had been willing to subjugate himself entirely for Arthur's benefit. He owed Merlin so much, and Freya's words provided further incentive for immediate action, if it had been needed. But his own conscience was more than enough. Giving himself a quick mental shake, he spoke briskly.

"Right, there is only one thing to do. I must find him immediately. I'll leave at first light tomorrow."

"You are not going away so soon, and alone?" the physician protested incredulously, his natural caution quick to rise to the surface. "You have only just returned to us, and it will not be fair on the queen to lose you again."

"Guinevere understands the importance of this quest," he said, "and will support me fully. This is my responsibility, and mine alone, as Guinevere well knows. I shouldn't need to remind you that she has always been close to Merlin." He paused, as if considering whether to continue. "She has been crowned sole ruler, but she'll remain regent for now. However, in the future she will rule jointly with me."

"Jointly?" the physician queried. "That is unprecedented."

"I'm setting a precedent," Arthur replied firmly. "That is the prerogative of kings, as I shall inform the council when I return. But the priority is to find Merlin, as I'm sure you agree."

Tears came to Gaius' eyes. "Of course I do, Sire, I want that more than anything, but in the meantime the kingdom will still be without you both."

"Only for a short time, I promise you. I will find him and bring him back to you. Then you'll have to put up with both of us again," he joked. "But at least I'll give him his own chambers, so that he doesn't keep making a mess in here."

Gaius bowed, looking considerably more cheerful at the prospect of Merlin's return. Perhaps he really would be able to prepare his favourite meal for him after all. "Thank you, Sire," he replied, already making plans to welcome his ward home again.

Arthur gave him a valedictory nod and turned to go, but stopped as something occurred to him. "Oh Gaius, before I get back, get rid of all the black drapes, would you? I shall expect a banquet at the very least on our return," he winked at him. "Merlin will deserve some cheering up. Mention it at the next council meeting."

...

Ealdor was the obvious place to start his search. If he went anywhere, he would surely go to his mother first. Arthur just hoped that he would be in time, and that Merlin wouldn't already have left. His new horse flew like the wind under him, and in future times, he would hardly be able to recall the journey at all, so focused was he on his destination.

On reaching the village, Arthur recognized Hunith's cottage at once. He dismounted and hurried towards it, but Hunith, having been alerted by the sound of hooves on unyielding ground, opened the door and came out.

"Sire!" She stopped in surprise before curtsying deeply, but she seemed in no danger of fainting or falling over, and she asked no questions, which pleased Arthur greatly. Hers was the most encouraging reaction to his reappearance that he'd yet encountered.

Hunith smiled at him in wonder. "I told him not to give up hope," she whispered to herself.

"So he is here, then?" he said eagerly.

She hesitated. "Yes, he is here..." He made a quick movement towards the cottage as if he couldn't bear to wait any longer, but her next word stopped him. "but..."

"But?"

Hunith was relieved that at last there was someone she could talk to about Merlin , and all the emotions that were bottled up inside her came pouring out. "Sire, he is not at home. He cannot bear to be in company. He goes out and spends his days alone, and he only comes back at night to sleep. He barely eats anything. I've tried to comfort him, but nothing works. He is inconsolable. I've never known him like this, and it breaks my heart to see it." She paused and tried to blink back tears. "I think it won't be long before he leaves us for ever."

"Not if I can help it," he vowed. This description of Merlin was so unlike the man he knew, that he wondered even more what would happen when the man returned. What would Merlin's reaction be? Their relationship would have to be fundamentally different now. Would they be able to meet as equals, as friends, after all that had passed between them? Would they be able to trust each other? Merlin's status would have to change, and continued servitude was out of the question. Would he even be able to persuade Merlin to return to Camelot with him? He was determined to do so, even if he had to shake some sense into the man. He thought back to his meeting with Freya. He knew now how much he had to answer for, and how much Merlin had suffered on his behalf. No matter what it took, he would keep his vow to Freya and put things right. He paced nervously, his concern for his friend growing with every second. The suspense and the tension were too great, and every moment seemed an eternity. Before long, he realized that his pacing was disturbing Hunith, so he went outside to wait for his friend.

He came at last as night was falling, his silhouette slowly becoming visible against a darkening and murky sky. He walked with weary steps, his shoulders hunched, and his expression drawn and miserable. The man seemed crushed, and to Arthur, he was almost unrecognizable as the cheerful, positive servant he knew so well.

Coming closer, he caught sight of Arthur and stood for a moment as if turned to stone, before he raised his hands and stepped backwards as if to ward off an evil spirit. "No, no," he cried, sinking to his knees in despair, fearing that he was going mad. "Not that."

He felt a sharp prod in the ribs and a comforting arm around his shoulder, before a familiar voice spoke in his ear. "Get up, you idiot. I'm real...and alive."

The warlock looked up, as pale as a sheet, into Arthur's eyes. Shock paralysed him for a moment, and he began to tremble. Eventually, he took a deep breath before shakily getting to his feet. "It isn't possible," he murmured to himself.

"That's what I thought at first too, but for you of all people to say it..." Arthur replied, raising his brows.

"But I saw you die. I sent you to Avalon," he whispered, unable to drag his eyes from Arthur's face.

"And your lady love sent me back again."

This made Merlin raise his voice. "My what?"

"Freya. The lady of the lake." An expression of raw pain passed across the warlock's features, while Arthur's look turned from pity to one of mild exasperation. He thought he'd never seen the warlock so exposed and vulnerable. "Merlin, why did you never say anything?"

"It seemed I couldn't at the time. I had to protect her, and you'd have executed us both."

Arthur wanted to protest that he'd have done no such thing, that he'd have helped them, but the truth was, he wasn't sure what he'd have done. His father's influence had been too strong, and now he realized, so venomous. Instead, he put an arm around the warlock again. There would be plenty of time for discussion and explanations later. "Come on, let's get you home. Your mother must be worried sick."

Merlin allowed himself to be pulled along, grumbling, "I'm not a child, you know." He read an answer in Arthur's eye, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, very well."

The prospect of going back to the cottage was much more appealing now, but he was still shaking, struggling to believe what had happened. The searing pain that had become his constant companion was slowly receding, leaving him numb and empty. He was too exhausted to think clearly or to focus on the future, but only one thing mattered. Arthur was alive.