"Merlin, you haven't touched your food," Gaius noted disapprovingly, watching the young man as he cleaned a jar.

The wizard looked up, then down at his food dimly. "Oh," he said as though he hadn't noticed. "I guess I'm just not hungry."

Setting the jar down on the wooden table before him, the older man watched as Merlin drifted back off into the retreats of his mind. He frowned; he knew that look all too well.

"Merlin," he started, and the young man looked up at him, "what's on your mind?" Merlin dropped his eyes to the table. "You're old enough that I shouldn't have to coax you. I know something isn't right." He turned his head and Merlin crossed his arms. "Now what is it?"

Pondering over his words, Merlin bit at his lip. "Is there anything that can be done for the king? A spell or..." He stopped as Gaius shook his head.

"No, Merlin," Gaius told him sadly, "there is nothing. It is his time."

"But does it have to be?" Gaius had always admired the boy's – though no longer a boy - heart. Though still coated with the naivety of youth, it was pure in intentions. "Surely there is a healing spell, or something that will make him well again," Merlin pleaded.

Pulling out a chair, the physician sat down across from the distressed wizard. "No, Merlin, I'm afraid not."

"But Arthur's not ready!" Merlin argued.

"Arthur will surprise you," Gaius stated as the dark haired man slumped back against the chair.

"That's not what I mean," Merlin shook his head. "I've lost my father, Gaius. I barely knew him, and it hurt like nothing I'd felt before."

The elder nodded. "It won't be easy, and Arthur will need support from his friends, especially you. It's Uther's time to leave, just as it's Arthur's time to be king." Merlin nodded glumly. "Just as it will be your time." His blue eyes turned up. "Be prepared, Merlin. I fear dark times are coming, and you will be needed."

"I will have to find a queen," Arthur stated, leaning on the cold, stone bridge and looking out over the land. It was soon to be his land. The sun crawled up from its slumber, making its way to the sky. Arthur couldn't help but wonder if the land would be his by the time the sun returned to sleep.

Morgana looked at him in confusion and displeasure. Hadn't he been the one only days ago who was adamant not to marry? "Your father is dying. How can you be thinking about that now?"

"How can I not?" He asked in return. "A queen is needed for a land just as much as a king."

"Your father has been without a queen for many years," she pointed out, feeling somewhat scorned.

"And there were decisions he made that neither you nor I agreed with. If he had my mother with him, things might have been different." Arthur looked over to her, and Morgana turned her eyes down. This was true. "Lives might have been saved."

Such as Guinevere.

"So, when are you going to go off in search of your princess?" Morgana couldn't help the ice that slipped into her voice.

Arthur laughed softly. "Why would I want a useless princess when there's already a beautiful lady capable of everything a queen should be here in Camelot?" She looked up. His eyes had settled on her, a sudden softness overtaking them. "So what do you say, Morgana?"

It wasn't the most romantic proposal, but these weren't romantic times. Still, her heart raced. She placed her hand on his. "Yes."

Looking down at her ivory hand, Arthur swallowed before speaking. "I'm sorry that we won't have any time to court properly."

Morgnana laughed. "Arthur, I've spent most of my life with you already. What could a few months of courting tell me that I didn't already know?"

The prince managed another small laugh. "I'm sure there are things you have yet to learn."

"Let's see," she said playfully, pretending to think. "You snore when you're asleep; you're a prat when you don't get your way, you hate losing at sparring, I can beat you at sparring," to this, Arthur snorted, "you're stubborn and proud, a terrible liar, an even worse cook..."

"Morgana..."

"And you're everything this kingdom needs."

"I hope to be," he replied quietly, taking her hand and entwining their fingers. "Thank you."

As the day drew on, the feeling of gloom thickened. Merlin couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was to happen that day; it surged through him as though it had joined with his blood. Both Gaius and Arthur had been summoned to Uther's bedside, but they had the day before as well. Was today to be the day?

Whether it was or not, Merlin wasn't sure how anyone could be expected to complete their chores. The servants and the kitchen had little energy about them, as did various other servants about the castle. When he had seen her, Adelaide looked as though she were stumbling around in a fog. Though, she had brightened a bit once she caught sight of him. He had to admit, he had brightened somewhat too.

He would fancy someone as the king was dying and a period of mourning soon to begin.

In a way, he felt sorry for Uther. Few people were going to miss him. They would miss his leadership as Camelot had prospered and been kept safe under his rule, but they wouldn't actually miss him. He wasn't sure that he would, and he knew that Morgana certainly wouldn't. She'd never forgive him for the death of Gwen. While he wasn't by any means happy about Gwen's death, Merlin couldn't help but wonder if it happened as it was supposed to.

Fate was funny in that way.

Sitting on the chair and looking about the prince's room, Merlin couldn't help but manage a half smile. Around him, rags scrubbed at the floor, removing any dirt diligently. Magic didn't know gloom unless he wanted it to.

Maybe Gaius had been right; maybe there really was a time for everything, and things would work out as they were supposed to. Maybe things were laid out, and they were just following along as they were supposed to.

A gasp came from the door, followed by the clatter and shattering of a ceramic on the floor.

Merlin turned to see a wide-eyed Adelaide looking at the rags on the floor. She raised her eyes to him as he willed the moving cleaning supplies to stop.

No one was supposed to have come to Arthur's room. No one ever did. Especially her.

His was sure his heart had stopped, and his lungs had lost the ability to take in air.

"Adelaide," he started, but she turned and fled.

Well, this was a bad day.

"Father," Arthur said softly, looking at the still face. The king stared blankly up at the ceiling, his raspy breath seeming to catch in his throat. Arthur looked over at the physician worriedly, but the physician only bowed his head. The blonde prince looked back to his father. Arthur swallowed and tried to fight back his tears.

It was time.

With one last, heavy sigh, the king grew very still.

Arthur took his father's hand in one of his own shaking ones and pressed it to his forehead. The skin grew cold against his own warmth. Closing his eyes, his features collapsed into his grief.

Quietly, Gaius slipped from the room as the new king wept.