Arthur breathed deeply, struggling to quash his surging emotions. He'd become adept at that over his lifetime and he was able to get the pain in his chest to ease enough to open his eyes though his vision still blurred with unshed tears. But he wouldn't let them fall, not yet. He wasn't sure Merlin could still hear him but he had some things he needed to say. Dropping to his knees so his head was now level with that of his friend, he brushed his fingers across Merlin's forehead and reached down to take the warlock's hand, trying not to wince at how cold it had become. "I am so sorry!" he whispered. "I am sorry I never appreciated you, never gave you the credit you deserve for all you've done for me, for Camelot. I'm sorry I was angry about the magic, that I hurt you by rejecting it at first. But I see now, it's all so clear, what you did. And I understand why you didn't tell me." He bowed his head from the shame of that, that his father's laws and his own misguided views about magic, had led his friend to keep such an important part of himself hidden. "I promise you," he vowed fervently, "magic will be accepted again, in all of Albion. Never again will I allow good people like you to live in fear of who they are."

"So," a voice came from behind him, "you are now willing to accept magic?"

Arthur scrambled to his feet and whirled around. Three women were standing there, and he couldn't help but remember the Disir though these three bore no resemblance to the three hags he had encountered before. These three were beyond beautiful, ethereal and, Arthur had no doubt, immensely powerful. He didn't have to know much about the old religion to know he was in the presence of the Triple Goddess.

"I am," he chose to answer simply.

"Even if it will not save him?" the middle one gestured to table and its occupant though the voice came from all three.

Arthur felt tears well once again in his eyes. "Yes. I owe him that much and more. It is because of him that I know magic isn't always evil." He looked back over his shoulder at the warlock. "I don't deserve what he has done for me, but I won't let his sacrifice be in vain." He looked back at the Goddess and whirled as they disappeared and reappeared beside the table, across from him.

"His power is very strong. No other could have taken your wound and survived this long."

"Please," Arthur entreated. "Won't you help him?"

"We already have. It is up to Emrys now to decide whether or not he will return or use this opportunity to shed his mortal coil."

"What you mean?" Arthur asked confused. "Wait!" he cried, as the three began fading from view.

"Regardless of the outcome, we will hold you to your promise, young Pendragon. Do not disappoint us."

"What do you mean he has to decide?" he yelled again but the courtyard was empty and he could feel that sense of abandonment settling upon it again.

He studied the young warlock, who appeared no different than a few moments ago and he knelt once again by the still form. Gripping tightly to a still cold hand he spoke fervently, "Merlin, don't you dare leave me!"

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He wasn't sure how long he had been walking, or exactly where he was going but it didn't seem to matter. He was content because he had felt Arthur's return, felt the wound leaving the king and settling into his own side (that had hurt so he was glad that he no longer felt that pain as he wandered a grey void to nowhere). He kept walking, never tired, nor did he ever feel hungry or thirsty. Part of him thought this should have alarmed him but he could not seem to muster up the emotion to care.

He may have wandered for days or minutes, he wasn't sure, but suddenly the monotony of his surroundings was broken by a light ahead of him. He kept moving, never changing his pace, figuring, whatever it was, he would reach it soon enough. And when he finally did reach the source, three women standing in a pool of light, he felt no alarm or surprise. But he did have the sense to drop to his knees and bow to the Triple Goddess.

"Emrys," they acknowledged. The lips of the figures never moved, the voice projected directly into his mind.

"Am I dead?" he asked. "Are you here to lead me to Avalon?"

"If that is your wish."

He was perplexed. "I have a choice? How is that possible?"

"Because you are Emrys," the Goddess replied, as if that explained everything.

"I don't understand."

"Have you never wondered, great warlock, how it is you've survived things that no mortal should? How you have been able to look up the lake of Avalon many times with no consequence? How you escaped the touch of the Dorocha? Have you never wondered what it means to be Emrys?"

"Emrys," he replied guardedly. "It means immortal."

"That is correct."

Merlin shook his head in denial, the first real sensation to fill him since entering the void being one of panic. "No, I do not want that."

"As we said, great warlock, you have a choice. You may return or you may continue with us to Avalon. The latter choice may not come again for a long time, if ever."

It was on the tip of his tongue to choose to leave. The thought of living forever, of seeing everything and everyone he knew cease to exist while he kept going – it was too much to bear. But instead he found himself asking. "What happens to Arthur, to Camelot if I choose to leave? What happens to his destiny?"

"We do not know. By your actions, by using your magic in this way to save your king, you have created a potential future that was unforeseen and thus unknowable. Arthur has vowed, that regardless of your choice, he will see magic returned to the world."

"So he will live, he will be able to continue to restore Albion. And magic will be safe once again." He breathed a sigh of relief. Arthur could go on without him.

"Perhaps. The fork of destiny in which Arthur died at Camlann was the strongest one and now he is on a different path, one that is partially obscured, even to us. But we do know it is still a tumultuous path, a dangerous one."

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?" Merlin pleaded.

"Arthur will likely not go far down any of these paths without you. The two of you have been linked by forces beyond even our sphere of influence and that bond is too strong to break. You are two halves of the same whole and without one, there cannot be the other."

"But even if I go back, you are telling me he will still eventually die!" Merlin cried in anguish. "That everyone I know will die except me!" The Goddess was silent. "How is that any kind of choice?" Merlin begged.

One of the three figures stepped forward and placed a hand on the warlock's cheek, sadness filling her eyes as she read his decision. "We are sorry, Emrys. Yours is a heavy burden. And we cannot allay it much except to tell you that, together, you and Arthur will achieve great things and your legend will survive the ages."

He merely bowed his head in acknowledgment as the light began to fade and he felt himself start to be pulled backward, from the direction in which he had come.

"And remember, Emrys," he heard echoing quietly in the void before darkness consumed him again. "Arthur is the once and future king."

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Night had fallen and Arthur had not moved from his position at Merlin's side. His whole world had been reduced to watching the rise and fall of his friend's chest, willing him to awaken through the tight grip on Merlin's hand. So at first he thought he imagined it, the soft moan that drew his gaze from his friend's chest to his face.

"Merlin?" he whispered, holding his breath less the sound of it mask another moan. An eternity passed and Arthur's chest started to burn with the lack of air until he was able to finally gasp in a sob of relief.

"A-arthur?" the warlock mumbled, eyes slowly fluttering open to find the king's blue ones peering intently into his own.

The king grasped Merlin's head between his hands and suddenly had him up in a tight embrace as tears streamed from his eyes. "You came back!" he was nearly sobbing. "You chose to come back!"

"Couldn't leave you," the warlock mumbled into Arthur's shoulder. "You'd be lost without me to look after you." He placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder as sensation returned to his body. "Ow!" he grimaced.

Arthur pulled back and looked at Merlin with such alarm that the warlock felt his grimace turn into a smile. "Is alright," he slurred, trying to reassure his king. "It's just my side still hurts."

Shifting to continue to support Merlin with one arm, Arthur lifted the tunic and though the light was poor with just the moon, he could still see a wound there.

"Merlin?" The young man's head was resting against Arthur's chest, eyes closed once more. "Merlin!" he said again more urgently, shaking the man this time.

"Please stop doing that," the warlock groaned as his eyes fluttered open again.

"I thought you were healed," Arthur stated, his relief at Merlin's awakening giving way once more to alarm. "Why is the wound not healed?"

"The Goddess took the magic out of it, now it's just a normal wound."

"One you could still die from if not treated!" Arthur glanced around in exasperation knowing there was nothing here for him to work with, all of their supplies still being on the other side of the lake. "What kind of Goddess can't even heal a simple wound!" he mumbled under his breath.

"Have to keep the balance," the warlock explained cryptically then chuckled weakly. "You might not want to criticize her so much in her own temple."

Arthur just snorted and seeing no other option, he gathered Merlin back up, feeling both chagrin and relief at the hiss of pain the movement caused his friend, and retraced the path back to the small boat. This time when he had them settled, the boat did not move and Arthur was about to disembark again to find something to paddle the damn thing with when Merlin waved his fingers weakly and mumbled a few words he couldn't understand. But the craft started moving and Arthur realized his friend had just used magic. He waited for the usual sensations he felt regarding magic to hit him – anger, alarm, even disgust – but felt only relief and realized he truly did see magic differently now and it was all due to this man he supported in his arms. A surge of affection went through the king and If Merlin noticed the arms around him tightening, he didn't mention it.