Arthur stood at the ragged shoreline and stared out over the still surface of the lake gathered back into the bowl of the Cauldron of Arianrhod. The sun had already sank beneath the ridgeline, and though hours remained in the day, it was already dusk there. They would have to spend the night among the sentry staffs and tattered old flags of some ancient battle that the lingering dead lost, but that was alright. However strange this place, it did not feel unwelcoming. It felt loving, and safe.

Behind him, Merlin slept in Gwaine's lap, heavy and deep as only the truly exhausted could be. It would be a hard road home in the morning, and not just because of the terrain. Arthur knew that this experience marked a definitive line between the first and second parts of all of their lives. It would define them, though exactly how remained to be seen. The outside world would not have been idle while Arthur struggled through this quest, either. He had Bayard to deal with, properly. A new treaty to negotiate. And he would have to contact Annis to confirm that they remained allies, and assure her of his intentions. He owed missives to all of them, actually - to all of his allies, and treaty-kings of Albion. To Odin, and to Olaf. Godwyn, too. Even Alined, however hostile their existing alliance. And Mithian awaited Arthur's response to her proposals for partnership and trade, among other things. The kingdom demanded Arthur's attention, as it always would. And he would give it. He would give it everything he had.

But right now, just for this one last night, Arthur stood in stillness on the brink of the rest of his life, and wondered if it were worth Guinevere's death, and Merlin's near-ruin just to bring about a prophecy that other men nearly let die. Was it really that important a thing, to destroy so much in its making? Was Arthur truly worth all of that?

"Some of us believe that you are."

Arthur swallowed and turned his head to regard Gaius standing beside him as if he were still made of flesh. It didn't even surprise Arthur to see him there; somehow, this too made sense. "How can you be sure?"

"Because I believe in the world you are trying to create."

Arthur nodded and looked back out over the darkening water. "You said that before."

"Yes," Gaius agreed. "And now I think you finally understand just how much we have all done for you. And why."

"I do," Arthur acknowledged. "Or I'm starting to." He clasped his hands around the scrap of cloth he had worn somewhere on his person for many long years now – the first token that Guinevere ever gave him, standing there beneath the low ceiling of her home beside her father's forge, before he went off with an assassin's price on his head to fight in a tournament disguised as someone else. He had kept it because it came from her hand, yes, but also as a reminder that he too often overlooked about the dangers of his own pride. "It was you, wasn't it?" Arthur looked over at an old sorcerer who once loved Uther as a dear friend, and let him get away with atrocities because of it. But he was also looking at an old man who loved a boy he didn't have to, and protected him. "You were with Merlin all this time, helping him keep me safe."

Gaius smiled, only one side of his mouth turning up, enigmatic. "I was not the only one."

"No," Arthur replied. "Does he know?"

"Probably not," Gaius said. "He really can be incredibly dense sometimes."

Arthur snorted in spite of the gravity of the whole day, and trailed off chuckling as he looked at the worn, tattered token in his hands.

"It's not dark where she is anymore."

The burn in Arthur's throat came swift. "Did Merlin do that for her?"

"He didn't have to," Gaius replied gently. "She did it herself."

Arthur smiled through the sudden wet and laughed under his breath. It felt like weight leaving his chest. "Of course, she did. Everyone always forgot how strong she was." When he glanced to his side again, Gaius was gone. Arthur kept smiling though, into the space he had occupied, and then he turned to walk over to the sentinel staff that had drawn him to this part of the shore in the first place. It stood tall against the pebbled ground, and bare. If it had ever worn rags and ribbons like the others, the elements and time had long since disintegrated them and carried them off.

Arthur measured the length of Guinevere's token between his hands, caressed its worn edges one last time, and then tied it to the staff that stood in the last place Arthur had seen her – the place she had been when she told them that she loved them both. Where she let darkness consume her just so that it couldn't have them. The place she had smiled from as she set them free. Arthur tugged the knot tight and brushed his grateful fingers over the wood as if it were her skin one last time. Then he stepped back, straightened his clothes, and walked away to be the king she saw inside of him.

~fin~

Part 3 coming soon: The Once and Future King