Chapter 21

Author's note

So, the penultimate chapter! This is a series of little pictures of how the years following Arthur's death unfolded. Nothing major plot-wise, but just some snippets of how it might have been. Hope you enjoy it!

"Court Sorcerer?" exclaimed Merlin with a laugh. "Me? With that title?"

Gwen looked at him, slightly puzzled as to why what had seemed such a good idea to her should be greeted with such obvious mirth by Merlin: "What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know…. It just sounds a bit too much as if I'll be doing conjuring feats for the entertainment of the whole court - like being a magical Court Jester. Although, come to think of it, Arthur would have thought that – or Court Fool – a perfectly good title for me!"

Gwen laughed, "But we have to call you something, Merlin! You can't have a place at the Round Table with the title The Person Who Used To Be King Arthur's Manservant!"

"Why not just Friend of Camelot?"

Gwen relented slightly: "Friend and Counsellor of Camelot, and I will be satisfied."

Merlin grinned, knowing that it was time to yield to the queen and give her what she wanted – a title for him – and so he nodded.

A little sound suddenly emerged from the cot that was not far away from where they both sat in the royal chambers. Gwen pushed the empty plate in front of her away and rose from her chair at the table, and then wandered over to look down at the child, to check whether the prince was still sleeping. She smiled and gently stroked Amhar's fair hair as he stirred and then settled back down to sleep again.

"And now, Merlin, having sorted out the business for tonight, come over and join me by the fire and tell me your story – I want to know everything."

And that was the pattern of many evenings that followed, as Merlin gradually told the true tale of Camelot's greatest secret and Arthur's greatest protector. Every story that Gwen knew so well was transformed by Merlin's narration, and many were the exclamations of delight, surprise and even shock. There were also at many point tears, both shed and those that remained unshed but which filled their eyes, as memories of Arthur were stirred again and again. Although the grief that they both shared had lost the sharp and almost unbearable pain it had held at first, it did still have the power to stir a deep ache within their hearts. But memories of their dearest friend were now bitter-sweet rather than merely bitter.

And as the recounting of the tales drew near to an end, Gwen urged the story-teller, "Write it down Merlin – write it all down."

When Merlin looked hesitant, feeling that it would be something of a self-congratulatory exercise, Gwen continued, "Geoffrey of Monmouth will undoubtedly write his own history of these times, but he will not know the full stories. Promise me, Merlin, that one day you will write the true account of all that has happened."

Merlin smiled and conceded: "I promise."

There was, however, one omission in Merlin's re-telling that he'd hoped Gwen wouldn't notice – but she did. But she didn't mention it until the very end – when she had to summon up her courage to voice the question the answer to which she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

"And what of Lancelot, when he returned – is there nothing that should be added to that?"

When she saw the hesitancy in his eyes, she pushed him. "Merlin – I would know the truth of all that happened, however hard."

Merlin's reticence had only been a desire not to open an old wound and revive memories of a time that both Arthur and Gwen had been able to put behind them and forget. He sighed and nodded. "Very well," and he then proceeded to tell of all that he knew of Morgana and Agravaine's involvement and of how Lancelot's shade rather than the real knight had walked among them. He did finish, however, by telling how he'd been able to bringing peace to Lancelot's spirit at the last as he sent the body off on a burial boat.

Gwen was thoughtful for a while, and then said with a deep sigh, "I wish Arthur could have known that Lancelot never broke faith with him."

Merlin smiled and said quietly, "I guess he knows now."

Thoughts of the true Lancelot and Arthur re-united beyond death brought both of them almost immediately a strange comfort as they imagined the king and his fallen companions being together again.

The queen sighed as memories of Lancelot filled her mind, "He was such a faithful friend to Camelot and to Arthur – he didn't deserve for it to end as it did, given that he gave so much." But as the two of them sat in silence for a few moments, her last four words seemed to lodge in her mind, leading to a sudden thought that made her heart suddenly beat faster.

"Merlin….?" began Gwen slowly.

"Hmmm?" replied Merlin, as he was dragged away from his own memories.

"You've told me stories of how both Uther and Arthur fell under enchantments that made them fall in love against their wills?"

"Yes, that's right."

Gwen continued, still speaking slowly but with an excitement that could now be heard in her voice: "Could the same sort of enchantment be brought about by an object – a piece of jewellery like a bracelet, for example?"

Merlin immediately thought of the Eye of the Phoenix that Morgana had given Arthur. "I don't see why not. Why do you ask?"

~~~ O ~~~

It took several days and not a small amount of effort and assurances to all who had served as prison guards to track down the silver bracelet that Gwen had cast aside in the cell where she had been imprisoned after having been discovered with Lancelot, two nights before she and Arthur were to be wed. As Gaius held the bracelet and turned it over in his hands, glasses sitting on the end of his nose as he examined the silver object carefully, he simply confirmed what Gwen and Merlin were already convinced of.

"I am almost certain that this has had an enchantment laid upon it at some point, your majesty."

Gwen almost cried with relief. "I couldn't understand afterwards why I'd been drawn to Lancelot – I had no answer to give Arthur."

"And now we know why," added Merlin.

Gwen's relief, however, rapidly turned into something rather less comfortable, "And did it not occur to either of you that my behaviour may have had something to do with an enchantment, given that you already knew that Lancelot was a shade summoned from the dead by Morgana?"

Merlin and Gaius turned to look at one another, lost for words, and then turned back to the queen.

"Alas, my lady – the answer to that particular question appears to be, no."

The fact that Gwen could roll her eyes so well was largely due to having seen Arthur do it so many times when with Merlin.

"If Arthur were still here, Merlin, I'm sure you would be heading for the stocks at this very moment."

"Me? Why do I always get the blame? Gaius is as much to blame as me!"

"Given his years, we could hardly subject him to such an ordeal…."

"But it's fine to do it to me?"

"Of course!" But the resulting expression on Merlin's face as she said the words melted away any last vestiges of exasperation that she felt, and there was, then, a twinkle in the queen's eye as she continued: "In fact, I'm sure Arthur would have made you take Gaius's punishment as well!"

"Thanks!" But then Merlin added with a little grin, "But seeing as Arthur isn't here, you're prepared to overlook the slight oversight on our part?"

And Gwen just smiled and nodded.

~~~ O ~~~

It was shortly after this that Merlin returned to Avalon, but this time with the queen, who wanted to see where Arthur rested. Both stood silently, gazing out onto the lake that was so still that it was almost a perfect mirror, reflecting the tower on the island clearly on its flat surface. Both had brought something with them. Gwen, for her part, had brought some white gillyflowers, and she cast them out onto the lake as she whispered her words of love and her goodbye to Arthur, her eyes full of unshed tears as she did so. Merlin, however, had brought something more permanent. He took from the saddle of his horse a sizeable square of granite, into which – with the aid of magic - he had carved the words: Here lies Arthur, the Once and Future King.

He struggled with the stone over to the place on the shore that was closest, from memory, to the point from which he had launched the boat and its occupant on their final journey. With Gwen standing next to him, Merlin laid the stone on the grass a little way from the water's edge, and uttered words of magic in the ancient tongue. With those words, the stone sank by itself down into the ground, until its surface was just standing proud of the grass around it.

Then Merlin spoke once more: "Ahefigie mid pare swaernese pusenda geara" - and his eyes flashed gold again.

There was no obvious result from these words of magic, so the queen turned towards Merlin, the question as to its purpose on her face. Merlin answered simply: "It now has the weight of a thousand mill-stones. No person will ever move this stone from where it now lies."

And with those words spoken, they both fell silent once again. And in both their minds, the same question: how long would the wait be until Arthur's return?

~~~ O ~~~

Just as Gwen had settled into her new roles as sovereign and mother, Merlin also began to find his place in the city that had changed so much in such a short time. Friend and Counsellor of Camelot was a role that he more or less made up as he went along (an art he had perfected whilst working alongside Arthur). It seemed to involve sitting on the Round Table whenever it met (advising particularly on all matters pertaining to the use of sorcer), employing his magic when an obstacle that seemed to be otherwise insurmountable presented itself, and generally protecting the city from magical creatures, errant sorcerers and would-be challengers to the throne, although there seemed to be precious little of any of these following the defeat of Morgana and the rout of the Saxons. In addition, he accompanied the queen on trips throughout the five kingdoms and beyond, the first trip to see Queen Annis being particularly memorable for him. She had looked at him with an expression of incredulity on her face: "So playing Arthur's fool was just an act to hide your identity? You played it well, sorcerer!"

As Annis then turned to Guinevere to make another comment, Leon leaned over towards Merlin and whispered in his ear, "I suppose you'd rather I didn't tell her that that was actually just you being yourself."

And Merlin managed to hiss back "Shut up, Leon," without his lips even appearing to move.

Friend and Counsellor of Camelot also seemed to involve one more notable challenge – and that was fending off the younger citizens of Camelot every time he walked through its streets. The children of the city loved him, of course, and never tired of asking him to entertain them: "Show us some magic, Merlin!"

Although he would sometimes mutter to himself, "Huh - Court Sorcerer after all!", if he ever dared to even threaten to disappoint them, the young warlock would inevitably be met by a loud chorus of "Pleeeeeeeeese!" coming from at least half a dozen different voices. And just as he had once delighted Freya with his skills, he would produce – from seemingly nowhere – butterflies, flowers, and all manner of showers of sparks and flames, to their cries of delight. But the request that he'd hear most often was, without fail, the cry, "Conjure a dragon!" And, without fail, every time a dragon then rose into flight from the embers of a fire, Merlin thought of Arthur.

His new role did also give him access to the vaults of Camelot and to the magical artefacts that had been kept there under lock and key, often for many years. But it was the presence of one of the items that had been deposited there more recently that began to play on Merlin's mind as it drew near to the first anniversary of Arthur's death, stirring up again the deep ache within his heart. But as the desire to use the potent channel of magic grew ever stronger within him, Merlin showed his wisdom by travelling not to the Great Stones of Nemeton but to the Crystal Cave.

Merlin stood amongst the glowing stones, remembering the previous time he'd been there and all that had followed from those events. His heart was churning within him, and the grief that had become bearable felt raw and agonising once again. He knew that there was no reason to think that his father would appear to him again, but his heavy heart hoped that it would be the case, at least on this one occasion. And he was not disappointed.

"My son, you have come seeking me."

Merlin whirled round towards the voice he heard behind him, but saw no shining form as he'd done before. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his father was there with him, and that was enough. His smile widened, "Father!"

Again the voice echoed around him, "What is on your heart, my son?"

Merlin hesitated, and then said, "Kilgharrah is dead, isn't he?"

Merlin had felt it in his heart, shortly after he'd returned to Camelot. There had been a moment when an unspeakable sadness had suddenly swept over him, and he knew it had nothing to do with Arthur. He'd stood out on the familiar open space, not far from Camelot, and used the words he'd cried out so many times before to summon the dragon, but even before the last syllable had left his mouth, he'd already known that the dragon would not come – and why.

Merlin heard something that almost sounded like a sigh coming from the very stones around him, and then after a moment he heard his father's voice answering him.

"The heart of the last dragonlord does not betray him. Trust your senses, Merlin – they are true."

But then after a little pause, his father spoke again: "But that was not the question you have journeyed here to ask me."

And Merlin knew it was pointless to hide the matter about which he'd come.

"I was thinking of using the Horn of Cathbhadh, but I think that maybe that would be wrong?"

Merlin had left out the most important detail, of course: who from among the dead he intended to summon. But Balinor didn't need to him to speak the name – he already knew it. A part of Merlin was desperately hoping, however, that his father would disagree with him, so great was the ache within him to see Arthur and to speak to him - but it was not to be.

"You are right, Merlin. You are wise not to use it. It is a powerful instrument of magic, but no good has ever come from its use."

Balinor knew that his son accepted what he said, but he also knew there was a longing deep within Merlin's soul and that there was still more that he wanted to say: "Speak, my son, and tell me what is on your heart."

Merlin tried to find the words that he needed, but ended up just blurting out, "Have you seen him? Have you seen Arthur?"

"None are hidden in the halls in which I walk."

"And is he happy?" Merlin already knew the answer but it didn't stop him asking the question.

"Where he is, it is impossible not to be so."

Merlin paused, summoning up the courage to ask his next question: "Can you give him a message from me?"

When Balinor spoke again, there was kindness and compassion in his voice, and he said gently, "No, Merlin – it is not permitted."

His father knew the hope that was dashed within him, and spoke again to him with the same gentleness: "What would you have said to him?"

"I wanted….. I wanted to tell him that I miss him – and that I will wait for him, however long it takes."

Balinor's voice echoed softly in the cave as he spoke again: "There is no need to tell him those things he already knows."

The dragonlord who had sired Merlin would have laid a comforting hand upon his son's shoulder had they resided in the same world as each other, so instead Balinor simply said, "The river of grief runs deep, my son, but your heart is healing and the pain will pass."

But Merlin then blurted out his final question: "When will he return?"

This time Balinor's voice was quieter, as if the distance between them was suddenly increasing, "You already know the answer, Merlin…."

When Merlin replied his voice was flat, disappointment echoing in his every word: "… When Albion's need is greatest." But he then added, "But when will that be?"

And Merlin heard his father's final words as if they had been spoken so far away that they came to him as little more than a whisper: "Take heart, my son – the waiting will not last forever. Arthur's day will come….."

And suddenly Merlin was left alone, with the word come echoing softly off the crystals until all that was left was silence.

The answer had been the one he'd already known deep down in his heart, but he'd needed his father's confirmation to give him the strength to keep to the right path, and as he travelled back from the Crystal Cave he resolved to destroy the horn and put it beyond further use forever. But when he searched the vaults he could not find it, but any questions about its whereabouts were soon forgotten in the busyness of his new life in Camelot.

~~~ O ~~~

There had been, ever since Camlann, one issue that he'd kept returning to: Aithusa. He knew that the dragon was out there – somewhere – and that the one person that the young dragon had known and cherished was dead. Although the dragon had been an enemy to them on the battlefield, Merlin's previous encounters with Aithusa had left his heart aching for the little creature that he had brought into the world through his own command – and had then named. And so one night, he went out again into the open country around Camelot and starting calling out in the ancient dragon tongue that flowed from the depths of his being, calling Aithusa to him by name – and the dragon came.

The small, almost pathetic creature landed in front of him, cowed by Merlin's presence from the start. She looked at the dragonlord, expecting nothing but harsh words of command from the enemy of the only companion she'd ever had. As Merlin studied her, he saw an indescribable wretchedness in the eyes of the dragon which pierced his heart and stirred a deep compassion within him. And slowly, inch by inch, and step by step, he gained the dragon's trust. He began by telling Aithusa the story that she'd been too young to remember – the story of how he'd saved the egg within which she'd once lived, and how he had called her into life beyond the confines of the egg and how he'd given her the name she bore – and what it meant. And Aithusa discovered the wonderful truth that Merlin possessed what Morgana didn't: the healing touch of a dragonlord that had the power to heal and restore a dragon to what it should be. And so the young dragon's stunted growth was reversed and she also slowly began to learn the language that could enable her to speak back to Merlin. Although, if truth be told, Merlin did find it very unnerving, at least at first, to hear the words of a dragon spoken in a distinctly female tone – although when he reflected on this later, he did have to ask himself the simple question: well, what did you expect from a girl dragon?

And Merlin also discovered that, whereas it had sometimes been like getting blood out of a stone trying to extract the information he'd needed from Kilgharrah, his problem was slightly different with Aithusa – trying to get her to shut up when she finally discovered that she had a voice.

As months back in Camelot turned into years, Merlin's training of the young was not, however, limited to Aithusa….

~~~ O ~~~

"Please, mother! Please let me have a lesson with Uncle Merlin this afternoon."

The queen looked at Amhar somewhat indecisively, not altogether sure that the term lesson was a terribly accurate one for what usually went on between Merlin and her son. The title of uncle had somehow just happened from the earliest days that the warlock had spent with the boy, and neither Gwen nor Merlin had any objections. Merlin, therefore, took great delight in taking whatever opportunities presented themselves to fulfil what he saw as the responsibilities that went with that title, including Amhar's education. The queen tended to refer to that 'education', however, as leading him astray.

Amhar had meanwhile decided that any lack of an immediate answer from his mother meant that further persuasion was needed.

"I always learn so much with Uncle Merlin – "

"I'm sure you do," cut in Guinevere, although Amhar was still too young to recognise sarcasm when he heard it. "And you learn a lot with Geoffrey too."

The mention of the elderly court tutor and historian resulted in a large and very obvious sigh from the young boy. "But Geoffrey's lessons are…" His voice trailed off, his education already having taught him that it was rude to refer to other people or what they had to say as boring.

The queen understood her son's sudden (and rare) inability to finish his sentence, and offered a correct and proper ending for him: "… are not so exciting as Merlin's?"

Amhar nodded enthusiastically, immensely pleased that his feelings had been exactly described without him having to be told off for being impolite.

Guinevere looked down at her son's large and pleading eyes, and sighed. "Very well – just make sure you're back here in time for supper," although she had to say the last words with her voice slightly raised to make sure that he heard, given that he was already almost out of the door as she said them. The queen had at that point, however, not even the slightest hint of the extent to which any misgivings she felt were going to be far surpassed. Although no one was in any doubt of her feelings on the matter some four hours later…

"Merlin! What were you THINKING!?"

Merlin wasn't exactly bringing to mind what he had been thinking or had done at that moment. He was, perhaps unwisely, reflecting on the fact that he didn't think he'd ever seen the queen looking quite so mad, and how it actually reminded him so much of Arthur. He suddenly snapped back to reality, and realised he'd been asked a question to which he probably needed to give some sort of answer.

"Um, I was thinking that…. er…. it would be good for Amhar to…..er….. learn a new skill."

"A NEW SKILL! That's not how I would describe it!"

Merlin turned his head slightly to look down at Amhar who was standing by his side trying to look chastened, although he was finding that extremely difficult as all he actually wanted to do was grin from ear to ear. Merlin quickly and quietly mouthed to the boy, "Which part of 'don't tell your mother' did you not understand?" which only led to Amhar grinning all the more.

But Gwen was only just warming up. "Do I need to remind you that Amhar is heir to the throne, and putting him in completely unnecessary danger is foolhardy beyond belief?!"

"It wasn't that high…." offered Merlin.

"Not 'that high'?! My son runs in telling me that he's flown above the forest, and you tell me that it wasn't 'that high'?" Gwen had both her arms folded by this point, as if she meant business.

"Dragons can fly much higher than that and – "

The queen cut in, "I don't care how high they can fly, Merlin! What I do care about is that my son was on the back of a dragon, flying at a height that meant that if he'd fallen off then – "

" – then I would have held him in mid-air using magic and brought him down gently," completed Merlin.

But the queen was in no mood for excuses or explanations, however valid.

"It was still completely reckless, Merlin. What do you have to say for yourself?"

A little mischievous grin came to the warlock's face, as he framed the perfect answer: "Arthur would have let him."

"Don't you dare try to get out of trouble by playing that card with me, Merlin!"

But he had. And it had succeeded - because Gwen knew that Merlin was, of course, absolutely right. In fact, there were times when people (including herself sometimes) forgot that Amhar wasn't actually Arthur's child. Whether it was being brought up as a prince with no siblings, or the influence of Merlin, or simple fate, the simple fact was that Amhar reminded them of Arthur. He not only had Arthur's blond hair and blues eyes (which he'd inherited from Lily) but also his love of physical pursuits and adventure, and he had a boldness which some also described as recklessness. And like his true father, Amhar also seemed to have an uncanny skill when he had a wooden sword in his hand.

Gwen shook her head, knowing that she was defeated but unwilling to admit it.

Merlin grinned again, "He has got the name Pendragon after all."

The queen managed a little smile, and said the most gracious thing she could manage at that moment, "Alright, you're forgiven."

To which Amhar excitedly added possibly the most ill-timed and ill-advised thing he could have then said: "Can I have another go, then?"

~~~ O ~~~

Much as Merlin found a home back in Camelot, there was also a restlessness in his heart that never went away. Although he spent most of his time in the city, he wasn't bound to Camelot, and spent much time roaming the kingdom and beyond. It was not with any definite purpose, but for a reason he couldn't fully understand, he felt a deep seated need to be out travelling and seeing the world, and all it had to teach him. But wherever his travels took him, he always returned to the lake every year on the anniversary of Arthur's death. He would stand by the lakeside, and would imagine his friend there and would talk to him. He felt closer to Arthur there than anywhere else.

And so the years passed, and the time came when he finally said goodbye to Gaius and laid him to rest, and he mourned long for the mentor who had been like a father to him. Merlin and Gwen remained close friends through all her life, and even as the years became decades, they still spoke of Arthur often and always with deep fondness and love. The warlock allowed his body to show signs of age as the years slipped by, though in truth he could just as easily have worn the same youthful face he'd had when he first entered Camelot, time having no power to age his body as it did for all others.

The queen never married again. Although many presented themselves as suitors and appropriate matches to her, her thoughts on the matter were simple and unchanging: how could she marry again if there were even the slightest chance of Arthur returning during her lifetime? She ruled well, but occasionally a knight or a council member or a servant would find her at a window, staring across Camelot's grand courtyard towards the drawbridge, as if Arthur would suddenly come riding through its stone entrance, his red cloak billowing in the wind.

And in her old age as her end approached, Merlin stood at her side as she lay quietly on her bed.

A smile came to her old but still beautiful face: "Once more, Merlin – do it just one last time for me."

And before her very eyes, Merlin transformed in an instant back into the young warlock that she had known so well. Seeing him standing there like that made it easier for her to remember Arthur as he'd been when she lost him – so full of life and in his prime.

She whispered softly to Merlin, "He didn't come," and there was a tear in her eye.

Merlin smiled gently, "No, but now you're going to him."

Gwen saw the look of longing in his eyes, and Merlin added, "Give him my love."

Both of them had lived over fifty years since the king's death, but there was never a day when Arthur was not in their thoughts.

And when the queen finally slipped out of Merlin's world and into the next, he made sure that her final wishes were carried out. He and Amhar stood together on the shores of the lake that surrounded the Isle of Avalon, as Merlin uttered once again the words he'd last spoken when it was Arthur rather than Gwen lying in the burial boat: "In sibbe gerest." And once again, his eyes flashed gold.

But as the boat bearing the queen's body -completely surrounded by white lilies mixed with gillyflowers - glided away across the surface of the lake, there was no mist this time to bear it away into the afterlife, and so as it reached the deep water, Merlin uttered the words of magic that ignited the flames which would take both the boat and the body of Camelot's queen down into the depths of the lake.

And Merlin wept for the passing of all those who had been most dear to him.

Author's note

One more chapter to go – and most of it is already written! And it will go a little way beyond where the BBC left it.