An: Another prompt, fluffy in nature, to ease the pain of the series finale I haven't seen yet. (Spoilers, dammit.)

Nonetheless, enjoy. :D


All he felt was pain. Pure, burning, agonizing pain. Blood seeped from his wounds and his life force seemed to slip away with every weak pulse of his heart. Tears fell down his dirty cheeks and a soft sob left his lips as his eyes refused to leave the crumpled form beside him.

His sister, his lover, his Morgana lay on the cold forest floor, her eyes closed and her body unmoving. She, once so innocent and beautiful, now a shell of what she became; to forever be remembered as the powerful witch that was consumed by her hatred. Camelot came to crumbles around her hand, as did the lives of many good men but he didn't hold it against her. He should have tried harder, cared for her more, and maybe...just maybe...none of this would have happened.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to her unconscious form, his hand reaching out to touch the ice-cold skin of her cheek.

"Arthur," Merlin interrupted his thoughts, nearing his friend and looking upon him with sad eyes. "We have to go."

"What's the point?" Arthur asked. "I can feel death lingering...there is no hope for me."

"You are right," the sorcerer agreed, moving closer to his King and hauling the armored man to his feet. "But you are not to die here. You are needed elsewhere."

"But...Morgana," the King whimpered, limping forward with his servant, but looking back at the woman he was leaving behind. "I can't leave her...I can't leave her. I've abandoned her too much in her life, I won't leave her now!"

"Arthur," Merlin snapped, pulling the soldier forward. "Just...be silent and trust me."

Had blood not be spilling in a steady trail from his stomach, the fiery King would have retorted, but he was far too weak to continue the argument. The weight of so many deaths hung from his shoulders and in his last hours he couldn't think of anything other than what he could have done differently. For Morgana, for Mordred, for every one of his knights that fell to his sister's onslaught. Had he changed something along the way, maybe those men would be going home to their families. Instead they were to rot on a battlefield stained with blood, their bodies only to be consumed by the earth, to be lost and forgotten forever.

"So much...I could have done," he sighed, gasping sharply as he tripped and pain shot up his wounded stomach. "Where...we...going?"

"The lake," Merlin answered.

"Why?"

"I cannot tell you that, but I assure you that you will find the answers you seek."

"I hate when you're cryptic," Arthur growled, offering a weak smile when the sorcerer simply chuckled and slowed when they neared the lake edge. Without saying a word, his servant led him to a boat bobbing uselessly in the water; untouched and untethered. With as much combined strength as the two could muster, Merlin helped his King into the boat, and held onto the edge to speak with him one last time.

"Your time in this world is at an end, which means...so is mine. I must say, Arthur...we've had quite a journey to this point," Merlin said, smiling at the weak man holding his bleeding stomach. "I hope you forgive me for not telling you I had magic for all these years."

The dying King smiled, and he chuckled before he groaned in agony. "Merlin, my friend, you always talked too much."

The sorcerer chuckled and grasped hands with his friend, before he pushed him out into the lake and towards the fog that lingered on the edge. Extending his hand, he chanted to the wind, and his eyes flashed golden; mobilizing the fog. It stretched and swirled from its origin and consumed the boat, pulling Arthur into a depth that no other mortal could enter. With a faint smile, and a single tear falling down his cheek, Merlin stepped out of the water and sat on the lake's edge; muttering quietly to the world.

"Long live King Arthur."


The fog was warm, yet cool. Light, but dark. Consuming, but leaving him untouched. He felt something deep within him empower him, and as he sailed deeper into nothingness his pain ebbed away. His chest stopped bleeding, and his head stopped throbbing. His once swore muscles were relaxed, and his once dirty skin was cleansed. Upon opening his eyes he noticed that his armor was no more, and in his surprise he sat up, catching sight of a figure residing deep in the fog.

He tilted his head, and stood in the small boat; waiting until he could see the bottom of the mysterious lake before he left it the boat behind. With water to his waist and the fog omnipresent, the only thing he could focus on was the figure, that was growing more and more clear with each footstep towards it.

"Arthur Pendragon," the voice was familiar, sweet, feminine and warm. "Sovereign of Camelot and United Albion. Conqueror of the Saxons, and true war hero. Friend, brother, husband and lover..."

"Who are you?" Arthur asked hesitantly, still unable to clearly see the woman that seemed trapped in the fog. "How do you know who I am? And...where are we?"

"You do not recognize me?" the woman asked, stepping into his vision and smiling. She was beautiful, with porcelain skin and hair of ebony that fell down her back and into the water. She was dressed in all white and her dress tightly clung to her body where the water encircled her. She had a smile like no other, and his heart soared despite his inability to act on his want to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

"Morgana?"

"Indeed," she smiled, reaching out and taking his hand. Her skin was warm again, and he smiled before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her waist; burying his face in her neck and sighing weakly.

"I...I don't understand. I saw you dead. You were right beside me, bloodied, cold, lost to the world. I kept wondering what I could have done to change your fate, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Morgana for not being to you what I should have been. I should have given you the compassion and love you deserved, like I wanted to, but I just-"

"Arthur," she soothed, brushing her fingertips against his neck and pulling back enough to look into his shimmering sapphire eyes. "Be calm. This is no need for apologies, or regrets here. We simply just have to be."

"Here?" he tested, quirking an eyebrow. "Where exactly is...here?"

Morgana smiled and stepped out of his embrace. As if parting a curtain she reached into the fog, and pulled it away reveling a world more clear than Arthur had ever experienced before. The shadows of doubt disappeared and in its stead remained a castle, far greater than any Camelot, that gleamed a mystic white atop an island surrounded by crystalline water. Beautiful maidens draped in white robes milled around the castle's grounds, and on the horizon large, purple mountains reached up to kiss the sky that was unmarred by clouds. "This," Morgana began, smiling at the stunned man. "This is Avalon."

"A-Avalon?"

"Yes," she laughed, taking his hand once again and leading him away from the water. "You will return again, to the Earthly world, when Albion needs you, but until then you are given eternal peace and happiness."

"But I have done so much wrong..."

"As have I," Morgana explained. "But am the last High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, I was destined to be here no matter what...but such a destiny meant that the love and compassion I felt as a child was still there...it was simply outweighed by my anger and my hatred. I was possessed, and I regret that I was weak enough to let that happen, but as I said...this is no place for regrets."

"I missed you," Arthur whispered, stopping upon the emerald grass and tightening his hold on her soft, small hand. Morgana turned and smiled at him, drawing herself closer and allowing her hands to settle on his chest.

"You don't have to miss me any longer," she responded, a promise she could uphold until the end of time. The former King of Camelot smiled and wrapped his arm around his lost love, allowing for his hand to tenderly cup her cheek. His thumb brushed just below her eye, clearing away all of the tears he should have kissed away when her magic and wild tongue were manifesting. He should have held her after her nightmares, kissed her wrists after she was locked in the dungeons, and he should have been there for her instead of following his father's every beck and call.

And as he leaned down and finally kissed his Queen, he swore to himself that he would reap all the benefits of spending a blissful eternity with the fairy, Morgana.