Arthur awoke.

He found himself at the foot of a tower that he thought was the same one Merlin had been taking him to, though the top had broken off it. He did not know what that meant. He also could have sworn he died, but a quick check of himself revealed that he was still very much alive.

Hadn't there been a lake here? Maybe it wasn't the same tower, then? But in that case, where was he? Moreover, where was Merlin?

Standing took longer than he would have liked, and his legs were unsteady beneath him, like he had lain abed far too long. A few quick stretches remedied that problem...but still no Merlin.

Torn between exasperated annoyance and concern, Arthur ventured a short distance from the tower, eyes taking in everything around him. The shadows were long, but slowly retreating with the rising sun, and the thin fog that had been surrounding the hilltop was steadily burning off.

The hilltop where he had awoken was clear of trees, but not far away was the fringe of a dense forest. Merlin easily could have gone in there...

Cautiously, Arthur stepped forward, eyes scanning for movement as he hissed, "Merlin!" Receiving no response, he tried again, louder, until he was shouting his manservant's name—and a few colourful curses.

He was just about to give up and storm off back to the tower to wait—he hated waiting, but if Merlin had gone for something, he knew it was best to stay where the man would return to. You know, unless he managed to get lost. Again—when movement in the forest caught his eye.

Ducking down, Arthur waited warily, wondering not for the first time where his damn sword was. After a moment, a white horse emerged—no, not a horse. It was a bloody unicorn, and not just any unicorn. If Arthur wasn't mistaken, this was the same unicorn he had shot, nearly ten years ago.

Its large head turned to him, and with a soft wicker, it strode over, hooves making scarcely a sound on the dew-dampened grass. Too Arthur's surprise, it stopped before him, then went down on one knee, its other foreleg stretched out before it. It was a pose Arthur was not unfamiliar with, having seen...larger noblemen's guards force their mounts into such a position many times, to allow for easier mounting. Hesitantly, Arthur approached.

The unicorn did not move, even when he was standing next to it, and finally Arthur sighed. "Did Merlin send you? He has," he wiggled his fingers, "you know, maybe he can talk to you or something." That would explain why Merlin had been so upset by the creature's death—and great kings, he really had to re-evaluate a lot of what he thought he knew about Merlin, didn't he?

The unicorn raised its head, fixing him with a steady look out of one eye. Sighing to himself, Arthur stepped closer and swung his right leg over the unicorn's back, grabbing the thick mane as he did so. The moment he was settled, it stood.

"I swear, if this is some prank of Merlin's..." he muttered as they rose, the unicorn steadily walking towards the trees. What else could he do, because nothing made sense, and clearly it was all Merlin's fault. It usually was.

The sun rose higher as he rode, the unicorn easily picking its way through the thick foliage. Arthur had no idea where they were going, and after nearly an hour of riding, he was starting to regret his choice to go with the unicorn. Just because Merlin had magic—Merlin. Magic—did not mean all creatures of magic were safe. Or that magic was.

He was contemplating just falling off the unicorn and walking back when an ear-shattering crack echoed through the trees. For an instant, the unicorn froze—and Arthur was grateful he wasn't on a real horse, because it would have bolted—and then it reared anyway, screaming at the sky. Arthur was forced to throw himself forward onto the unicorn's neck, hands clutching his mane like a vice, to keep from sliding off.

Before he had even properly rebalanced himself, the unicorn landed and bolted, galloping directly towards the sound in a fashion that Arthur would tentatively call frantic. If an animal could be frantic. All Arthur could do was hang on as they covered the short distance between them and the source of the sound.

Horses, shifting, nervous horses, was the first thing he saw, then a ring of people. It was what was in the centre that truly caught his attention, however.

For someone who had been trained from birth to analyse situations and always, always know what was around him, Arthur could not take his eyes from where Gwaine knelt on the grass, clutching a dying Merlin. Feeling his heart rise in his throat, Arthur all but threw himself off the unicorn, who had stopped alongside them.

"Merlin," he breathed, dropping to his knees and bodily shoving Gwaine out of the way so he could take hold of his servant. Cradling his head, Arthur desperately clapped a hand over the wound, trying futilely to staunch the bleeding.

"Merlin...what...what happened?" he demanded, looking up at Gwaine with hard eyes.

Gwaine looked at him in a mixture of shock and confusion. "...Arthur?"

Did Gwaine's voice have a different accent? Not important. "Your king commands you to speak, Gwaine," he said, frustrated by the lack of response.

"Arthur, what are you saying?"

Arthur blinked. The words...were not Brittonic, but he found he understood them anyway. Magic. It had to be magic. He also did not care, and after a moment, found the words he needed in this strange tongue.

"What happened to him?" he bit out.

"Leon...shot him," Gwaine said slowly, looking up at the man in question.

Arthur followed his gaze, shooting his knight a look the promised harsh words, later. But right now, he needed...oh gosh, Merlin. Why would Leon harm him? Had it been an accident? That had to be it...!

"Someone get the healing supplies!" he roared. Merlin was the physician, but they all had basic field training in medicine! Enough to bind a wound, at least.

"He's as good as dead," a voice behind him said, and Arthur stiffened in fury.

"Who said that? And why is nobody moving? Get the satchel, that is an order!" Had they all gone soft in the head? Merlin coughed weakly, blood spurting from his lips, and Arthur barely hid a sob.

"Merlin, Merlin, stay with me," he whispered, leaning down to cup his servant's cheek. "Come on, stay with me. We'll patch you up... Where is that satchel?!"

A gentle prodding from the unicorn's horn drew Arthur's attention. Sitting up, he refused to relinquish his grip on his friend as the creature stepped closer, head down. For a moment, the unicorn seemed to appraise them, then very slowly, he touched his horn to the wound.

It started like the tiniest of sparks, then slowly grew into a golden glow that surrounded both Merlin and the unicorn, growing in strength until the intensity of it forced Arthur to look away.

When he looked back, the glow was gone completely, and so was the unicorn's horn. It stood for a moment longer, then collapsed, dead, at Merlin's side. In his lap, Merlin heaved a deep breath, and then a gagging cough, the force of which pulled him from Arthur's lap as his stomach heaved up a glob of blood.

Alive. That was the only thing that registered with Arthur. Merlin was alive...because the unicorn Merlin had once saved had deemed him worthy of salvation, also. He spared a moment of gratitude for the creature, then caught Merlin as he fell back onto him.

His servant's eyes opened, as blue and as beautiful as he remembered. "Guess...I died, huh?" Merlin said softly, speaking that unfamiliar language. "Really...messed up destiny...this time."

Arthur cupped his cheek, smiling faintly. "You are no more dead than I."

Merlin barked a wet laugh. "That's...funny. Because you're dead. Have been for...fifteen hundred years..."

Those words shot through Arthur like a cold knife. "I...think you're hallucinating, Merlin. I am very much alive, whatever you may wish." Teasing was familiar. Teasing was normal.

The words made Merlin sit up more fully. Part of Arthur wanted to object when his servant pressed a hand to his neck, but some deeper part of him warned him to stay still. He went with the latter.

"You...have a pulse." Merlin's hand switched to his own neck, and then he looked around, as though really seeing where they were for the first time. "I...have one too. I...didn't die?"

"Not that I noticed, Merlin." They would address the fifteen hundred years thing soon. "Though it was not for want of trying. Luckily, it seems that unicorn you forced me to save decided you were a pure maiden and saved your life."

Merlin was smiling, and for whatever reason tears had begun trickling down his cheeks. Before Arthur could say more, arms had hooked themselves around his neck, and he was holding a mess of a sobbing servant.

"It worked. Goddess it worked. I was so...so afraid it..."

"Good to know you still speak absolute gibberish, Merlin."

The words drew a wet chuckle out of his servant. "I've never stopped, Sire."

"Would someone care to explain what's going on here?" A voice, Gwaine, demanded. If the demand brought a frown to Arthur's lips, he said nothing, because frankly he agreed.

"Yes, Merlin, perhaps you could start with that fifteen hundred years comment, or better yet, explain why I seem to recall dying."

"That's...because you died, Sire," Merlin replied as he slowly, and with obvious reluctance, disentangled himself from Arthur's neck.

"If I died, how am I alive? Honestly, Merlin, even knowing you're a sorcerer does not make me see you as any brighter."

"We...were near the lake when you gave up," Merlin said softly. "You died there in my arms. But...but Kilgharrah," had Arthur heard that name before? "he swore you'd return. I just...I had to...I had to make a sacrifice to bring you back." The last was admitted in a low tone, Merlin's gaze averted to the ground.

"Merlin, took at me." For a moment, he thought his servant was going to disobey, but then, slowly, Merlin did as ordered. "What sort of sacrifice?"

"Do...can we talk about this in private?"

"Now, Merlin. My knights c—" As he was speaking, Arthur looked up, taking in for the first time who exactly was surrounding them. Not his knights—at least, not all of them.

And too many of them.

Arthur rubbed his eyes. "Perhaps I am dead," he muttered. Because four of these people were, or he was a burrow. And not all of them were friends.

Subtly, he reached for his sword, his hand encircling Excalibur's warm hilt a feeling of comfort to him. He hefted it, the blade an assurance.

"Morgause," he bit out, expression narrowing. "I could have sworn I had the pleasure of hearing of your death," he said. "And Morgana. I could have sworn I watched you die." Never mind Elyan and Lancelot.

"Arthur...don't," Merlin said, his hand pressing against the leather of Arthur's glove and coaxing him to lower the blade. "They...they've been reincarnated. All of them. They aren't your enemies any longer...at least, I hope not."

"Reincarnated, I was dead, and what under the sun are you wearing? Honestly, Merlin, I truly do question your mental capabilities..." Because mocking Merlin was so much easier than voicing his fears.

"...Arthur, I think we should talk. In private." For a moment, Merlin hesitated, and then he said, in Brittonic, "Or we can speak like this."

Arthur matched the language, finally getting a chance to voice one of the many, many questions he had, "Yes, about that. Exactly what gibberish do you have me speaking?"

Merlin smiled wryly at him. "It's English. It's the language that's spoken in Albion—though it's now called England."

"And as I am not so stupid as you, I am confident that one does not learn a new language in one's sleep."

Merlin shrugged. "Maybe it's because your reincarnated self knew English? It might be something that stuck with you when he died."

This just got weirder and weirder. Taking a deep breath, Arthur massaged his temples. "You had best start at the beginning, I think. Don't leave anything out."

Merlin looked at him for a long moment, and then he relaxed. And then he began speaking. For much of the discussion, Merlin stuck to English, and it was not long before their audience settled in, clearly interested.

At times, though, he switched to Brittonic, and those were the times Arthur really listened...because those were the times he knew that what was coming was going to be incredibly personal.

It was in this way that he learned of his own death, and the era of peace that his soldiers bought with their blood and sweat. He learned of the wonderful queen Guinevere had been—and he could not help but glance at the Gwen of now, sitting beside this age's Lancelot—and...he learned of her death, passing on with Merlin at her side, making him promise to look after Arthur always.

He learned of Camelot, how she grew and how she fell. Arthur listened with a stony expression, not allowing a hint of emotion through, though there were many times he wanted nothing more than to let loose and scream.

He learned of the eras that followed, and the mistakes men made over and over again. Of plagues and purges, and the final fall of true magic in the Albion—and wouldn't Uther have been pleased.

He learned of Merlin. His friend had travelled far, had seen and learned many things, but had never been gone long from Albion and Avalon. Merlin had truly waited for him for what amounted to nearly fifteen hundred years, and if that number made Arthur want to vomit, he withheld it, his expression carefully expressionless.

He learned of the strides society had taken, of technology and advances in medicine and science, and of how big the world was, but also how small it had become. It was fascinating, but it was a lot to take in—especially when Lancelot, poor, dead Lancelot, began enthusiastically pitching in. Lancelot's input only spurred on others, and soon they were all talking over one another, each with something different to say.

All save Morgana.

Lastly, Merlin outlined the recent events, following his...rebirth. Here, he spoke entirely in English, and Arthur suspected the explanation was every bit as much for the others as it was for him.

"...nothing I was doing would have any effect on them," Merlin was saying, looking haggard. "I didn't want to admit it, but I suspected it had to be magic. What else could affect the dead so much? Especially when I saw some...fleshless ones. Nothing biological could cause that.

"So, after Morgana's dream, I finally sucked it up and asked Aithusa—Aithusa is, uh...well," he looked a touch sheepish here, "she's the last dragon."

"Dragon," Arthur said flatly, cutting off any other surprised questions. "That reminds me, you spoke of Kilgharrah, also. Since when do you conspire with dragons?"

"I'm...uh, the last dragonlord?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" he asked, expression stony. "And while we're on the subject, are there any other lies you have to own up to? Because now is most certainly the time, Merlin."

His servant flinched, looking like Arthur had physically struck him. "I'll tell you anything you want, Arthur, you just have to ask."

"I intend to," he muttered, "but continue."

"She...helped me realise that I was looking for the solution in the wrong place. I knew...I knew the Arthur of this time...he wasn't you, and I...I didn't think—he couldn't do it. We need you to save us. So, Aithusa made me realise that Morgana's dream, it wasn't a warning that I would kill him, it was the Old Religion telling me that that was what I had to do in order to stop this.

"It was true. With Avalon's magic having successfully revived you, it shouldn't affect any other corpses again."

"But you had to kill my...other self to do it?"

Merlin looked shamed to his core. "I...had to. I didn't want to, but...if it was for the world...! And...it was for you, Arthur," he added softly.

Arthur met his eyes for a long moment, then gestured Merlin forward. "Come here."

Merlin leaned forward without question, closing the short distance between them. Without further ado, Arthur whacked him over the head. "That's for trying to do too much," he scolded.

Rubbing his head, Merlin forced a smile. "That's what you're here for."

"It is. And my first order is for you to get some rest."

"But—"

"That's an order, Merlin. And it goes for all of you. I...am going to take a walk." Because this was a lot to take in, and he needed to get away from watching eyes. He would never let them see, but he needed to cry. He needed to mourn his wife and friends and subjects and his country. He needed to mourn everything that was lost, and then he could return and be the pillar Merlin needed.

"Yes, Sire."

Standing, Arthur slide Excalibur into its scabbard and turned. Taking one of the horses, he mounted and began to ride off. A few minutes to himse—

"Arthur!"

He turned back, to Merlin's fearful gaze. "Merlin?"

"Just...please...you have to come back."

"Why on earth wouldn't I come back, Merlin?" And was that real fear in Merlin's eyes?

"I...please, Arthur, just...promise me."

Fifteen hundred years.

"I promise, Merlin. I'll be back. No more waiting."

Merlin's shoulders sagged, and Arthur was almost tempted to bring him. But then he remembered Gwen and Camelot and he turned away. The last thing Merlin needed right now was his weakness.

Merlin had to fight back bile as he watched Arthur ride away. He was not successful in stopping the tears that came, though. Oh gosh, if he didn't come back...

"Please tell me this isn't a fever dream," he said, reaching over to touch the body of the unicorn, "and if it is, I don't want to wake up."

"Merlin..." Gwaine said, moving to kneel next to him, "you okay?"

He let out a choked sob. "I...I've never been better. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Dunno, just tend to assume people who are crying aren't, y'know, fine."

He forced out a wet guffaw. "R-right. Knew there was a reason you were always one of my favourites," he muttered, reaching up to rub his eyes.

"Was I now?"

"You came with me to help me regain my magic after...after Morgana took it from me. Saved my ass more than once on that trip. In the end, Morgana wound up torturing you to death. I missed you, after that." He knew he was babbling, but he didn't care. He had wanted to say some of these things for a long, long time. "I know it was you who gave up mine and Arthur's location to Morgana, but I don't blame you for it. I...I don't think Arthur would have made it anyway, and it was only thanks to you that I was able to kill her. Dammit, without you the entire battle of Camlann would have been lost..."

"Merlin, you aren't making any sense," Gwaine said.

"I just...wanted to thank you. And you too, Lance. You died so neither Arthur or I would have to. And Elyan, thanks for saving Gwen from Morgana. And Leon, you were...so good to Gwen after Arthur died and I left Camelot. And...and Gwen, you were such a good ruler. You did everything you could to bring magic back to Camelot, and I don't think I ever properly thanked you for that."

"Don't...mention it, Merlin..." Gwen said slowly.

"Is this all true? You aren't just having us on?" Elyan asked slowly.

Merlin nodded tiredly. "King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, Queen Guinevere...and Arthur's servant Merlin. It's all true," he muttered. "Embellished, and the facts are far different than fools like Marlow wrote, bit some of what you know is right."

"There's still the matter of you killing my cousin," Morgana, who had been largely silent, finally said.

He met her eyes. "I understand if you hate me. I understand if you never forgive me. But know this, I have had it drilled into my head for hundreds and hundreds of years that my destiny and my duty both belong to Arthur Pendragon. I would do anything to revive him. The fact that it stopped the... apocalypse was only a bonus."

"I'd like to see some proof of these claims," Morgause demanded.

"Who else feels this way?" Merlin asked after a moment. Because Arthur was back, and he did not need to hide anymore. He was so, so sick of hiding. Part of him wanted to scream to the world who he was.

An even larger part wanted to scream who Arthur was.

Murmurs of ascent rose through the group, so Merlin gestured to the horses. "Secure them," he said, before throwing back his head and yelling to the sky.

It took only a few minutes for the sound of sweeping wings to fill the clearing, the treetops swaying and swinging furiously. She dropped in the pond, forelegs resting on the rock formation in the centre. Perched on high, she watched them, foreclaws digging into the rock and wings partially spread.

"Morgana, you remember Aithusa?"

Morgana was shocked into stunned silence. This...was by far the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Awestruck, she stepped forward, eyes racking over the dragon's stunning form.

Hello, Morgana.

Morgana froze, eyes wide. "Who...?"

It's Aithusa, Merlin's voice echoed in her head. It seems your soul remembers enough of what it once was to manage this simple thing.

Merlin...? she tentatively ventured.

I hear you. Go ahead, she wants to talk to you.

...Aithusa?

Yes, Morgana? It has...been a long time.

You...knew me?

Many years ago, yes. I am sorry we never got to say goodbye.

What...happened?

I stayed away from you, as the dragonlord,

Merlin? commanded. Then you died.

This knowledge that she had been the enemy of all of her friends in the past churned Morgana's stomach. And...now?

I would be happy to get to know you again. I have missed you.

Morgana smiled at that. I think I'd like that.

While Morgana reunited with Aithusa, Merlin had turned his attention to tackling the stupefaction of the rest of them. Most were too stunned to saying anything for several moments.

"That's...wouldn't a dragon have been useful?" Gwaine asked.

"She's not a toy, Gwaine," he scolded. "I don't make a habit of taking advantage of my dragons."

"You have more? What the shit, Merl?"

"No, Aithusa is the last since Kilgharrah passed."

"Still, this does seem like it could have been...advantageous," Leon remarked.

Merlin shrugged. "I had no intention of revealing myself unless Arthur was involved," he said simply. His entire life had been lies and secrets for Arthur. Nothing would ever change that.

"Thank you, Merlin," Morgana said, walking over to him. "She is...beautiful."

Merlin smiled. "You two were once good friends."

Morgana nodded, her eyes noticeably damp.

"Aithusa," he called, speaking aloud for the benefit of the others, "I need you to do something for me."

Ruffling her wings, the dragon sat taller. "What isss it, Emrysss?"

Moving to the pack horse that still carried Arthur Hunter's corpse, he slowly lowered the body and carried it to the pond.

"He deserves to rest here, at Avalon," he said softly. "He never deserved the fate that destiny had for him."

"What do you wiiish?"

With a muttered spell, the water solidified, allowing Merlin to rest him atop it. "Burn him, please," he said, stepping back.

With her gaze sweeping over those assembled, Aithusa then sucked in a breath and did as asked. Nobody said a word as the searing-hot flames licked at the body, quickly reducing it to nothing but ash. Merlin then released his spell, allowing the ash to sink beneath the surface of the water.

"Whatever remains, the magic of Avalon will watch over him," he said softly. "Forever."

Sorry to those of you who asked me to actually kill off Merlin, but this is definitely a Merlin/Arthur Pendragon fic, and they've been through enough. :)

Preview:

"This is exactly how we lost Morgana last time."

The words cut through her, making Morgana recoil with widened eyes. "Then perhaps you should have considered that before you took my cousin's trust and shit it out," she said, suddenly defensive. She was not that...person of the past! She deserved to be considered as an individual, not based on some actions her past self may have made.

"I-"

"He loved you," she said, "and you betrayed that."