A/N: Here it is, everyone. The last chapter. Try not to cry too much.
**EDITED**
Merlin knocked quietly on the door to the Court Healer's chambers. He waited, fidgeting, until a soft feminine voice bid him enter. The door's hinges creaked as Merlin pushed it open and stepped through. The chamber couldn't have been more different than the one in Camelot.
Gaius' workspace was always an area of utmost disarray, everything meticulously organized in a pattern discernible only to Gaius. Atticus, who had been the Court Healer of Carthis for a dozen years or more, kept his room spotless and painstakingly arranged. It wasn't nearly as homey as Gaius' space, but it had an air of efficiency and cleanliness to it that did nothing to dispel the cheer the old man brought to it with his wide, energetic smile.
Lord Ellison was sprawled out on the patient's cot near the fire with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the side, his hand twitching and jiggling restlessly. He had a bandage wrapped around his head, but he had washed and changed clothes since the day before. Atticus had not yet returned from aiding in the aftermath of the battle in Camelot, so the healer at the workbench was Esla.
She looked up at Merlin and smiled welcomingly, giving him a small bow. He smiled back at her.
"Good afternoon, Esla," he said and Ellison nearly jerked himself off his perch in surprise. "Would you mind giving me a minute with Ellison?"
"Of course, sire, but I would appreciate if you would keep it brief," she said, beginning to tidy up the materials in front of her and pack vials into a case much like the one Gaius carried, probably intending to go out on rounds. "Lord Ellison needs rest."
"No, he really doesn't," Ellison grumbled. "Lord Ellison needs to get out of this room is what he needs."
"I'll make sure he doesn't overexert himself," Merlin said with a smirk at Ellison's scoff. Esla nodded her thanks and left them alone, tactfully closing the door behind her.
Merlin looked after her for a moment, uncomfortably aware of his cousin and the loss he had suffered. He wasn't quite sure how to begin this conversation. He took a fortifying breath and pulled up a three legged stool. Ellison was sitting up now but his head was down and his fingers were tight on his knees.
"How are you feeling?" Merlin asked, immediately kicking himself for it.
"I feel well, sire," Ellison said. He sounded strangely formal, and not in the way he used to that meant he was subtly mocking Merlin's title. He was almost subdued. "Well enough to be out of here by now, but Esla is a cautious girl."
"As she should be. Head wounds are tricky, and symptoms of concussion don't always manifest immediately," Merlin said.
Ellison grunted noncommittally. Merlin shifted on his seat, wondering if he would have felt more prepared to speak to his cousin had he been in his more regal apparel, but he had come straight from Camelot, only stopping to check in with Gerund and Sir Galahad about the state of things.
Ellison cleared his throat. "I thank you for your concern, my Lord," he said stiffly and without raising his eyes from his lap, "but for what reason have you come?"
Merlin's brow furrowed in confusion, at Ellison's behavior as much as at his words.
"Is my concern not reason enough?" Merlin asked.
Ellison's eyes flicked up for a moment before skittering away, his fingers clenching more tightly into his trouser legs.
"I did not expect you would wish to see me in my shame," he confessed.
Merlin puzzled over this statement for a long moment before he realized what Ellison meant by it.
"Your shame?" he repeated in surprise. "Ellison, no! You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Ellison shook his head.
"My father betrayed you," he said, as if that had anything to do with him at all. "He betrayed Carthis and let that vile woman in to injure our people and threaten our peace."
"And none of that reflects on you."
Merlin's insistence must have been fierce enough to give Ellison pause because he looked up, still hesitant. A night of being woken in intervals to keep his concussion under control had left him wan and his eyes were heavily shadowed. The shame Merlin saw in them outweighed the exhaustion, and even his grief. Merlin leaned forward, intent to wipe it away.
"Ellison, you are not to blame for your father's actions. He made his choice, and that's on him. But you made a choice too."
Merlin waited long enough to make sure that Ellison met his gaze directly.
"You did me a great honor in that hall, Ellison." Ellison shook his head and opened his mouth to contradict him, but Merlin didn't let him. "You did. You were faced with an incredibly powerful and dangerous sorceress and your own father, and yet you stayed true. They offered you wealth and power and authority but you stood your ground. You displayed unbelievable loyalty to your kingdom, and to what is right.
"You were prepared to die for Carthis. For me." Merlin shook his head, still in shock over it. "Such bravery is rare, and I can never express my gratitude for the loyalty you showed me."
"But—" Ellison looked stunned and a little bewildered. He seemed honestly taken aback by Merlin's words, as if he had never considered that his actions might have been noble, honorable, and worthy of commendation. "But after the way my father and I treated you, after he tried to overthrow you—"
"Yes, he aided an enemy of the kingdom in her attempts to kill me and take over my kingdom," Merlin said bluntly and Ellison flinched, his cheeks coloring once more. "But, Ellison, you stopped them. I heard what you said, how you defended me. You promised me that you would protect this kingdom with your life, and you proved yourself willing to do that, and do it in my name. That more than makes up for a few months of pettiness, don't you think?"
Ellison tried to return Merlin's smile but didn't quite manage it. Merlin reached out to put a hand on Ellison's arm, squeezing. "You have proven yourself beyond doubt," he said warmly, "and I will be proud to call you my cousin."
That won him a better smile, shaky but genuine. Ellison placed his hand on top of Merlin's.
"And I would be honored to call you mine," he said in a voice that shook with sudden emotion.
Merlin beamed at him, feeling the tiniest bit misty eyed himself, and Ellison's smile widened in response.
"You will sit at my right hand at the commemorative feast," he said.
"No, I couldn't—"
"You've earned it," Merlin said firmly. "And I won't hear another word on the subject. The feast is to honor those who fought in the name of Carthis, and you did just that."
Ellison conceded with a rather put-upon sigh, though he couldn't help but look pleased. Merlin gave his arm another squeeze, then stood.
"Well," he said.
"Well," Ellison echoed, clearing his throat again.
"Get some sleep, Ellison," Merlin said. "I want you well-rested. Can't have you addled if you're to perform your duties."
Ellison raised an eyebrow. "My duties, sire?"
"You know. Watching over the kingdom when I'm not here," Merlin said as if it were obvious. "You see, now that relations with Camelot are opening up and Arthur is implementing new policies and programs that deal with magic users, he's going to need my advice. I'll probably be spending a good deal of time over there, and I can't very well leave Carthis without any sort of leadership, can I?"
He laughed at Ellison's dazed and disbelieving expression. "You did well enough yesterday," he said. "I figure you can handle being in charge for a day or two at a time. If you haven't been laid low by a concussion, that is."
"No, sire," he breathed. "I mean, yes. Just—" He shook his head. "I'll do my best, sire."
"I know you will."
"What are you going to do now?" Ellison asked, solemn.
Merlin heaved a sigh, the weight creeping up on him again.
"Right now? I've got condolence letters to write. Forty-three of them." He ran a hand through his hair, then chuckled weakly. "I considered roping my manservant into helping me with them, but that wouldn't be right."
"Why not?"
"They fought and died in my name. Their families deserve a letter in my own hand," Merlin said simply. "But first? I've got a pair of dragons to visit."
Merlin didn't send out his call in the courtyard as he had done two months ago when he sought Kilgharrah's approval of his kingship. This wasn't a conversation that needed to be shared with the townsfolk, and he didn't want Aithusa's appearance to frighten them. Instead, he rode out past the gates and found a clearing large enough for two dragons to land. He tied his horse a ways back in the trees, and roared his summons to the sky, this time calling not just for Kilgharrah but for Aithusa as well.
It didn't take long for two silhouettes, one large and one small, to appear against the darkening skyline. Kilgharrah landed more heavily than he usually did, the ground shaking beneath him. His teeth were bared and his nostrils furled with smoke like Merlin had never seen from him before. Aithusa alit beside him, his landing awkward with wings that didn't quite work properly.
The smaller dragon cowered backward—whether from Kilgharrah's wrath or from Merlin himself he couldn't be sure—and croaked in that horribly pitiful way that made Merlin's eyes smart with tears. He started toward Aithusa, a hand outstretched, but Kilgharrah growled and let loose a small plume of flame. Merlin stumbled back and stared at him in shock. Kilgharrah spread one wing over Aithusa's smaller form, practically hiding him from Merlin's view.
"What is the meaning of this, Merlin?" Kilgharrah snarled. "How has this atrocity come to be?"
Merlin shook his head, at a loss.
"I don't know," he said, the admission alone feeling like a sword to the gut.
How had he not known? How had he not felt it? Surely as a Dragonlord he should have been able to sense when one of his kin was in such pain, but he hadn't. He hadn't had the slightest inkling, and he hated himself for not thinking to check. He had not called for Aithusa once since he had been hatched, hadn't thought he would need to. He had let himself be secure in the knowledge that Aithusa was with his kin, but he had been wrong. He had been so wrong.
"I don't know," he said again.
"How have you allowed this to happen?" Kilgharrah demanded, the accusation heavy in his tone.
Merlin bristled, his guilt and his anger pressing against his breastbone until it hurt; he already knew he was responsible for this and he didn't need to hear it from anyone else, especially not the only other person who could rightfully shoulder the blame.
"I allowed it?" he responded sharply. "I left him in your care, Kilgharrah! And the next time I saw him, he was taking orders from Morgana. You tell me how it happened."
"You are a Dragonlord, Merlin. You are responsible for the dragons you hatch."
"We both knew I couldn't have taken him to Camelot with me. I couldn't watch over him, so I left him with you."
He should have called him, though. He should have taken the time to sneak away and check up on him and make sure he was doing well, but he hadn't. And apparently neither had Kilgharrah.
"I thought as his kin you would keep him safe. Why did you even let him out of your sight?"
"A dragon is not meant to be restrained," Kilgharrah said, haughtiness and disdain seeping in around his anger. "We are illimited creatures. We must fly, we must roam, we must be free to make our own path."
"And look where that path led him: right into Morgana's hands!"
Kilgharrah bared his teeth and growled deep in his throat. Merlin held up a hand, ready to shield himself should the dragon decide to punish him for his words, and for his failure to protect the hatchling, with fire.
A strangled sort of howl sounded from under Kilgharrah's wing, drawing both their attention away from each other. Aithusa limped from under his cover, tossing his head to dislodge Kilgharrah's wing and looking highly distressed. Merlin went to him, ignoring Kilgharrah's threatening stance this time, and laid a hand upon his flank.
Aithusa's scales were dry and brittle, flaking off in places to reveal raw-looking pink skin underneath. His wings were too thin and shot through with darker scar tissue, the edges tattered and irregular. One looked to have been broken and not set properly, stuck at an unnatural angle. Aithusa's rasping sounds were so unlike Kilgharrah's smooth speech that Merlin had to examine his neck for marks of possible strangulation, some sign of the trauma that had taken his voice from him, but he didn't find any obvious cause.
Merlin would be the first to admit that he didn't know much about the maturation rates of dragons, but he felt sure that Aithusa was smaller than he should be at almost five years old, not even the size of a sturdy horse. When his trailing hand reached Aithusa's snout, the dragon turned into him, dull and filmy eyes closing.
"Oh, Aithusa," Merlin breathed. "What happened to you?"
Aithusa made another noise, a fruitless attempt to communicate. Merlin wondered if Aithusa's mental growth had been stunted as well, if he would be able to speak fluently if his voice were functional, but he had no way of knowing.
"What could have caused this sort of damage?" Merlin asked, pushing aside his anger and his shame for later and raising his voice so that Kilgharrah could hear him. "What did Morgana do to him?"
Kilgharrah's answer was forestalled by another cry from Aithusa, even more distressed than before. He shook his head over and over again, croaking. Merlin stepped back, bewildered at his strange behavior. He shared a look with Kilgharrah, who appeared to be just as baffled by it. Then Kilgharrah leaned in close, his head almost laid upon the ground so that he could look Aithusa in the eye.
Kilgharrah's inquiry echoed inside Merlin's head and Merlin nearly hit himself in the forehead for not thinking to try it before, but there was no reply.
Merlin deflated; of course speaking mind to mind didn't work. If Aithusa had been capable of it then he would have been using it by now. After all, Aithusa was hardly more than a child in human years, making him a mere babe in arms in the face of how long dragons could live. Having the mental and magical control necessary to broadcast his thoughts was likely beyond him at this stage, especially with no one to teach him how.
Kilgharrah heaved a sigh.
"What is it, young one?" he repeated aloud with more gentleness than Merlin had thought possible. "What disturbs you so?"
Aithusa whined, shifting on the spot in his agitation but unable to communicate. Merlin thought back a few moments. Aithusa had been perfectly docile until he had asked what had happened, what Morgana had done to him. Something about that question had set Aithusa off.
"Morgana?" Merlin asked, and Aithusa bobbed his head up and down. "What about her?"
Aithusa made a noise that, despite being unintelligible, still managed to convey frustration and irritation pretty clearly. Merlin decided it would probably be most effective to restrict himself to yes or no questions.
"Did she hurt you?"
Aithusa shook his head frantically. Merlin frowned. That didn't make any sense.
"Someone else did this to you?" he tried instead.
Aithusa nodded.
Merlin frowned harder. "How did you end up with Morgana then? Wait, no, you can't answer that. Let's see… Have you been with Morgana long?"
A nod.
"Since you left Kilgharrah?"
Another nod.
Merlin huffed in frustration of his own, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Then how did you get injured by someone other than her if you were with her that whole time?"
Kilgharrah breathed out a long puff of smoke, sitting back on his haunches and narrowing his eyes in calculation.
"Aithusa," he said slowly. "Did Morgana suffer alongside you?"
Merlin looked up at him in surprise, then quickly turned back to Aithusa. The small dragon nodded again and Merlin felt like a weight had been swung into his stomach.
It didn't seem possible. Aithusa was young and small, no matter that he was of a strong and proud race. It wasn't too hard to think of ways to capture a dragon hatchling, but Morgana had been immensely powerful and clever as well. Capturing her, and keeping her for the length of time necessary to do the sort of damage that had been done to Aithusa, would not have been easy.
It sent a thrill of fear down Merlin's spine. He ached to know more, to ask questions and get answers to them, but Aithusa couldn't tell him. And as much damage as Morgana had done, as far as she had fallen, Merlin didn't relish the thought of her in pain. He may have been the one to end her life, but he had never wanted her to suffer. In desperation, he turned to Kilgharrah.
"Can this be undone?" he asked. "Is there a way to heal him?"
"There are no wounds to heal," Kilgharrah said mournfully. "The damage was done long ago and all that is left are scars. Scars cannot be healed."
"They have to be," Merlin said, all but begging. "There must be a way. Something, anything. Just tell me and I'll find a way to do it."
"I'm afraid there is nothing any mortal can do to reverse this."
"Any mortal?" Merlin repeated, latching on to the qualification. "Then I will appeal to a higher power, to the powers of the Old Religion itself."
"The Old Religion will not readily grant services to humans, Merlin," Kilgharrah said. "The favor of the gods and goddesses are reserved for a precious few."
"What of my great destiny, which the Old Religion grants me?" Merlin asked. "If they will not hear the petition of Emrys, then of who? Kilgharrah, you said yourself when Aithusa was hatched that he was a good omen, that his birth was the beginning of something important. The light of the sun."
Merlin gestured to the pitiful sight that had become of that pure, innocent creature. "Why would that name have come to me if it wasn't significant? Perhaps the Old Religion will not grant my request, but it might. If there's even a chance of setting this right, then I have to try."
Kilgharrah didn't respond, troubled eyes on Aithusa.
"Besides," Merlin added, "this raises another problem."
"And what problem is that?" Kilgharrah asked.
"Someone caught and held a dragon and Morgana both," Merlin pointed out to him. "I think it would be in our best interests to determine who they are, how they managed it, and why."
Kilgharrah looked at him steadily for a long moment.
"Give me a few days to think on how to proceed," he said eventually. "Reversing this damage will not be an easy process, especially on a creature as magical and magic-resistant as a dragon. There is little that can affect us. I fear the power of a god may be necessary."
Merlin swallowed but held his head high. If a deity was needed, then he would find one and he would procure their help.
Kilgharrah lifted himself upright once more, preparing to lift off. "I will call for you when I determine what path to follow."
"Thank you, my friend," Merlin said, bowing his head.
Kilgharrah nodded back, which was as near to an apology for his earlier accusations as Merlin was likely to get.
Merlin stayed in the clearing for several long minutes after Kilgharrah disappeared into the night with Aithusa following jerkily in his wake. Then he turned back toward the castle. There was nothing he could do about this new mystery now. Instead, there were condolence letters to write, stipends to see distributed, and a speech to write.
The next evening, Merlin sat at the high table at the head of the largest banquet hall. Raime had finally managed to wrestle him into the finest and most exquisitely expensive clothes he could dig up out of the wardrobe, no matter how much Merlin grumbled and complained about it. The deep blue velvet of his doublet matched the blue of the hangings and tapestries along the walls and Merlin had to admit he looked every inch a king, especially with his formal crown settled comfortably on his brow.
The long tables on either side of the hall were laden with enough food to make them groan and lined with people. A multitude of tall candles burned brightly around the chamber, the flames sometimes winking different colors or lifting off of their wicks as someone or other showed off the trick they had learned to the laughter and applause of their tablemates. Wine flowed freely for all and spirits were high, everyone relishing in the lightness that came with the end of long worry.
Lord Ellison was seated at Merlin's right hand, dressed richly and with his long hair tied back with a ribbon. There was a bruise showing across his jaw from where he had hit the floor after Morgana had blasted him, but his head was no longer wrapped in bandages and he seemed to have slept better last night than he had the night before.
He still looked a bit reluctant at the honor of his placement at the table, but he was smiling around at the crowd of happy courtiers with a fierce sort of pride that Merlin was very glad to see. Seeing that look, Merlin wasn't surprised in the least that Ellison had defied his father for the sake of the kingdom. Ellison loved Carthis more than anything, that much was very obvious.
Sir Gerund sat at Merlin's left, in his ceremonial chainmail and cloak. The older man had a smile on his face that made him look ten years younger and somehow less burdened than Merlin had ever seen him. He too loved Carthis, and the threat that had hung over her for so long was removed. Carthis was safe and secure with a leader who had proven himself, and that was all Gerund needed to let himself relax and enjoy the feast. He was tucking into his meal with gusto and keeping up a stream of stories and anecdotes for Mordred on his other side. Mordred, also in his mage's apparel, laughed, throwing his head back.
Merlin had to smile at the sight, immeasurably grateful for the decision he had made to bring Mordred with him, no matter for what reasons that decision had been made. If it hadn't been, Merlin would never have been able to see Mordred so happy, so unrestrained and uninhibited.
Mordred's life had been shadowed by Morgana too. She may have been dear to him once, almost a mother figure when he was youngest, but whatever love they'd had had soured. With her madness and her hatred, she had turned her back on everything Mordred had looked up to in her. And by the end, Mordred had feared her. Now that the love was gone and the fear was lifted, Mordred could finally be free of her influence.
Merlin leaned forward to speak over Gerund. "Mordred, where have you been?" he asked, thinking back over the last two days. "I expected to see you after the battle, but you weren't anywhere I could find."
Mordred shifted in his seat and took a drink of his wine before answering.
"Lady Cecily took a hit during the fight," he said. "I was tending to her."
Merlin raised an eyebrow, but Mordred was busy cutting up his roast pheasant and didn't see.
"I was in the infirmary for a good while after," he said, "and I didn't see her in there."
Sir Gerund smirked and leaned back in his seat to give Merlin direct line of sight, taking his goblet with him and looking like he was settling in for a show.
"My healing skills may not be anything to brag about," Mordred said, still focusing on his wine and his food instead of Merlin whose grin was growing by the second, "but they were sufficient for a smaller injury such as hers."
"And where exactly were you treating her if not in the infirmary?" Merlin asked.
Gerund chuckled and Mordred fidgeted again.
"I took her to my chambers," he admitted, then he hurried on before Merlin could crow in victory. "I mean, the chambers I occupied as a knight. A knight of Camelot, that is. Arthur was still expecting me back, after all, so he hadn't had them reassigned, and the infirmary was so full that it was just cleaner and quieter and she could rest easier there."
Merlin hummed his agreement, sipping innocently at his own wine.
"Stop looking like that!" Mordred snapped, scowling, but his cheeks were pink. "There was nothing indecorous!"
"I never said there was!" Merlin protested, affecting a scandalized tone.
"There's nothing between me and Cecily," Mordred said.
"You're blushing," Merlin countered.
Mordred's face darkened further and Gerund laughed out loud, slapping the arm of his chair with the hand not holding his drink. Mordred turned to glare at him, and then at Merlin, who was still trying to look innocent and failing miserably at holding in his mischievous amusement. Finally he returned to his meal, grumbling mutinously under his breath.
"See if I come to your aid when the council starts talking about heirs," he said, and Merlin promptly choked on his wine. He spluttered and coughed as Gerund practically roared with laughter and Mordred preened in triumph at getting his own back.
Ellison thumped Merlin on the back, valiantly attempting to suppress his own sniggering. Once Merlin was no longer in danger of suffocating—though he thought he still might spontaneously combust from the heat in his face and neck—Ellison came to the rescue with a change of subject.
"Speaking of heirs and children," he said, ignoring Merlin's noise of distress, "when is your mother coming to court? I've been looking forward to meeting her."
"As have I," Gerund put in. "Any woman who could leave Balinor pining for twenty years or more is someone worth knowing."
Merlin cringed. "Er, yes, see, about that," he stammered. "I haven't really—I mean, she doesn't—it's just—well—"
"Sentences, Merlin," Mordred put in helpfully. "Words usually make sentences."
"I haven't...actually...told her yet," he admitted in a mumble.
The three of them gaped at him. He cringed some more.
"You what?" Mordred let out, rather more loudly than was probably wise considering they were in a hall full of people.
"I know, I know!" Merlin cried. "I'm a horrible son!"
"Damn right you are," Ellison said. "How can you not have told your mother?"
"I haven't had the time," Merlin objected. "I've been a little busy, if you haven't noticed."
"Too busy to send her a letter?" Gerund asked.
"Oh, like I can put any of this in a letter," Merlin scoffed. "And besides, she deserves to hear it from me."
"Well, what have you been telling her, if not what's actually going on?" Ellison asked.
"Nothing," Merlin sighed. "I haven't actually seen my mother in four years, and it's not unusual for us to go several months without communication. And even when I did send her letters, I censored them."
"Why would you do that?" Gerund asked.
Merlin gave him a look.
"Seriously? Why wouldn't I tell her exactly what goes on in my life?" Merlin laughed. "Like all the times I've risked execution or faced down a dangerous beast or gone up against an assassin or otherwise stared death in the face?" He shook his head. "No, my mother worries enough as it is. My life in Camelot was more than a little bit dangerous. I didn't need to give her any more nightmares."
"You've been a king for over two months. She should probably hear about that."
"I know, but she deserves to hear it directly from me," Merlin repeated, "not from a letter. And I couldn't just send a delegation of guards over to bring her here. How would I have explained that before I explained everything? No, I need the time to go to her myself, sit her down, and have a nice long chat about it all. Then I will invite her to live in the court."
"You say that like you don't think she'll take it up," Mordred said.
"I don't know," Merlin said with a shrug. "She's a simple woman, really, very practical. She's lived most of her life in a farming village. I don't know how well she'd take to a life of luxury and leisure and servants."
"But it would be a secure life with you," Gerund pointed out. "As a parent, she couldn't want anything more."
"If she wants to live here, she'll be more than welcome. But I won't insist if she'd rather stay where she is," Merlin said. "I offered a few times to set her up in Camelot, but she said it was no place for her. She may be more inclined to move here or she may not. Either way, it's her choice. And I will give it to her as soon as I have the opportunity, once things have settled down."
"I have a feeling they'll settle down quickly after this," Gerund said. "After all, the war is over. You're mending the rift with Camelot. The council has found their faith in you. All is well." He gestured out over the room.
The Lords and Ladies in their finery were laughing and chatting amiably, a number of knights had their tankards in the air and had started up a song, a pair of mages were trying to one-up each other were light tricks while their peers cheered them on. Every person in the hall had a smile on his or her face, even those who had lost someone just a few days ago. A few people caught Merlin's eye as he observed them all, and they beamed at him and bowed their heads.
When Merlin came to Sir Galahad, the knight rose to his feet and lifted his cup to Merlin.
"A toast!" the young knight called. "A toast to our King. He led us to victory against the darkest force we have yet seen. When he struck down Morgana Pendragon, he struck a blow against all the evil in this world."
Cheers rang out around the hall and tankards clanged against the tables.
"To King Merlin," Galahad cried, and the call was taken up by every voice in the hall.
They all drank to him and Gerund nudged at Merlin's side until he got to his feet. Merlin stood staring as the hall gradually fell silent, an awed smile on his face at the thought that this was his life. This was his kingdom, his hall, his subjects. They were happy and safe and they would raise their glasses to him with joy in their hearts.
Merlin opened his mouth, but his throat was too tight to speak. He coughed and ducked his head a moment, gathering himself, and heard a few chuckles from those closest to him.
"I thank you all for your esteem," he said, loudly and clearly so that his words carried throughout the chamber. "I am honored that you find me worthy of it. When Sir Gerund first tracked me down a little over two months ago and told me I was a prince, I thought he was mad."
More people laughed and Merlin smiled. "Really, I did. I thought there was no way in hell I could ever have anything to do with royalty, other than pouring their drinks and making their beds. I was convinced that was all I was fit for, all I would ever be fit for. I thought me playing at being a king could only ever end in disaster."
The hall was quiet, every face turned toward him. Even Gerund and Mordred looked surprised by the admission, and they were the ones who had heard his fears from the beginning. Gerund had witnessed his shock and his panic, and Mordred had been the one to talk him down after his coronation. Even Ellison had known that Merlin doubted himself, had been told as much when Merlin appealed to him for his support, but Merlin had worked so hard to keep the cracks from showing, to keep from looking weak even to those closest to him.
Now Merlin confessed to his fears and his insecurities freely, laid them out before his court and his people. And he smiled.
"Barely a week ago, I came before my council and I proposed that we send aid to a kingdom which has been diametrically opposed to our very existence for decades," he said, his voice ringing, "to defend them against the most powerful witch this land has ever encountered. And they hung their hopes on me and agreed. And now, just a few days later, the battle is over."
The crowd cheered once more and Merlin let them for a moment, raising his hand for quiet only when the ruckus had mostly died down on its own.
"Our enemy has been defeated," Merlin said, "but that is no reason to celebrate." He scanned the crowd to see expressions of confusion and skepticism.
"The taking of a life is not in itself a victory," he declared, his conviction in this belief lending him strength. "Death is a tragedy, no matter the victim, and that will never change. Every life is valuable and every life is worth saving.
"But sometimes the continuance of one life endangers others. And that is when a line must be drawn and action taken, no matter how much that action may pain us."
Merlin met Mordred's eyes and saw the tears there, remnants of a time when he had loved Morgana, had looked up to her.
"Morgana was once my dear friend," Merlin confessed, earning gasps from those who had not yet heard the full story of Merlin's life in Camelot, or of Morgana's origins there.
"She was once a kind and compassionate soul, dedicated to justice and mercy. It was fear and alienation that darkened her so. Her fear festered and turned to hatred and her determination became obsession. In her drive to do what she believed to be right, she lost sight of herself and her true aims. She died a truly broken woman, and that saddens me more than I can say.
"But I cannot regret the actions I took against her. Misguided though she may have been, a victim of circumstance in her own right, she was still dangerous. Hundreds of lives were lost to her machinations, and I cannot regret that no more will ever be lost to her callousness.
"That is what we are celebrating today," Merlin insisted. "Not the destruction of a tortured soul, but the newfound security of those who once lived in fear. The threat Morgana presented has been a pall over the kingdoms of this land for far too long. That veil is lifting, my friends, and it will take with it much of the stigma we have borne all these long years.
"Morgana is not the only enemy we no longer need fear," Merlin said, smiling now. "The kingdom of Camelot has long been hostile to those associated with magic. Even before Uther Pendragon instigated the Great Purge and wiped sorcery from his lands, Camelot and Carthis had not had the best of relations.
"And I tell you now that this will change. With Arthur Pendragon comes a new era, one of peace and understanding between our two kingdoms, free from the misconceptions and prejudice of his father's reign. King Arthur even now plans his journey here. There will be no more fear and no more ignorance, no more of the hatred Morgana claimed she would end whilst killing any who disagreed with her.
"Arthur does not claim innocence," Merlin told them, seeing the doubt and indecision on some faces, the anger many held toward the Pendragon line. "He understands the wrongs he has done our kind and he seeks redemption. Soon he will open his gates once more to the magic users his father drove out and he will welcome them. In turn, I will welcome him here and take the hand of friendship he extends to us now.
"The battle is over and the war won. We have lived in a time of great darkness, but every night must come to an end. Now we must look forward to the light."
Merlin picked up his goblet and waved Raime forward to fill it before turning back to the crowd before him.
"Tonight we honor those who gave their lives in this fight," he said. "We drink in their names. We remember their sacrifice and we give thanks for the lives they have saved with it. Tonight we think back on all those who have lost their lives in this turmoil. And tonight we rejoice that we have a chance to create a better future."
He bowed his head in respect to the fallen, and all those in the chamber did the same. After a moment of solemn silence, Merlin raised his head again and lifted his goblet high. The scraping of chairs echoed throughout the chamber as everyone rose to stand with him, goblets held aloft. Merlin drank and his people drank with him, toasting to the fallen and the living, to the past and the future, to Morgana and to Arthur and to Merlin their King.
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A/N: Wow. Writing this story has been a hell of a journey and reaching the end is a little disconcerting. THIS STORY IS NOT FULLY EDITED AND EVERY CHAPTER HAS BEEN RE-UPLOADED WITH THE NEW CHANGES AND CORRECTIONS. IT IS OFFICIALLY DONE. And it's almost exactly two and a half times longer than anything else I have ever written before.
I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for your reviews and your feedback and your encouragement. I cannot express how much all the love and support I've gotten from you guys means to me. And I don't know that I'd ever have had the determination and the drive to really get this done without it.
Nor would I have ever even considered the possibility of writing a sequel (god help me, why am I doing that, someone stop me, oh god), but I will. I don't know how long it will take with school and work and life getting in the way, but eventually there will be more in this universe. I may or may not have an in-between story, one or two of the smaller things that could conceivably be glossed over or which would bog down the beginning of the sequel. And it would provide something to carry us all (myself included) over until I actually have the time and focus to work out and write the next goddamn novel.
**Update on the sequel: IT IS NOW UNDERWAY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. IT IS BEING WRITTEN AS WE SPEAK. I don't have an exact ETA on when it will be finished yet, and I am literally terrible at estimating finished wordcounts (like I thought TBAK would turn out to be like 60k and it ended up being more than twice that, so that should give you an idea, lol), but it is progressing steadily for the moment. I'm thinking I probably won't hit any gigantic writers blocks because I have a full story outline from start to finish, which I definitely did not for TBAK. Everybody cross fingers for me. Hopefully you won't have to wait too long to have something more to read.
So in short. I (still) love you guys so much. Thank you for taking this journey with me and giving me the incentive to get off my ass and get this shit done. Thank you, thank you, and more thank you.
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PS. If anyone ever wants to PM just to chat, I'm totally up for that. By the way. I love chatting, just ask mizzymel. (Special shout-out to mizzymel for being the best and for providing extra encouragement and feedback and essentially beta-ing in an after the-fact-sort of way. =P)
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PPS. I REMEMBERED THE LINE BREAKS. GO ME.