A/N: Hey, I putting the author's note up here again for the dramatic effect thingy. *nods*

Oh, and I'd like to thank all those who have reviewed, favorited, and followed. Love you all! I hope no muffins come your way!

So, this chapter is pretty short, but I think it captures the massage. (Eh, it's probably some melodramatic shit, but most of my writing is of that quality.) Let the show go on...


Merlin never got why the word "fun" was in funeral. Sure, you didn't pronounce it or anything, but it was still there, as if mocking you. You can't spell funeral without "fun."

He guessed it was the English's language's way of saying "screw you, I do what I want" as it repeatedly hit you below the belt.

Wait a minute, why was he even pondering this? Oh, right. He was heading toward a funeral right now.

Arthur's funeral.

In Camelot's time, when Arthur had died, there was no funeral for the fallen king. Just little cast off in the lake of Avalon by Merlin and a memorial back in the kingdom. Nothing real.

This time it would be different. Arthur's friends, family, and basically everyone he knew was going to be there. Merlin shuddered just thinking about it.

Ever since Arthur had uttered the words "No man is worth your tears," Merlin had privately come up with his own variation saying "Every man is worth your tears." He soon learned, however, that tears were not expected out of certain people at certain times.

He had not been allowed to cry during WWII as his comrades lay dying beside him. He hadn't been allowed to cry when a little girl that used to throw him a smile when she passed him on his front porch on her way home from school every day had been struck down by a truck, or even attend her funeral at any rate. Tears weren't allowed out of some people in certain situations.

Even though he had taken care of Arthur since he was four, Merlin knew in his heart that he wouldn't be allowed to show his grief. Uther would stand by the coffin, tight lipped, and would give Merlin a curt nod, acknowledging him but not too much. Arthur's friends would stare at him, remembering when they were all little and how they he would perform magic tricks for them, and expect him to be a "man" and not cry. Then Kilgharrah, or Greg in this life, would give him a sympathetic look before walking over to him and hollowly promising that reincarnation could happen more than once.

Yes, that was how it would play out.

Getting out of his car, Merlin took a deep breath and headed into the building.

Surprisingly, people bowed their heads as he passed them, as if they were sorry for his loss. Merlin bit his lip. Arthur wasn't his family. He didn't deserve their sympathy.

He walked into the room were Arthur's….the coffin was held. It was slightly filled, with almost every seat taken, and a short line was made leading up to Uther and the coffin. Merlin quickly joined the queue, wanting the pain in his chest to stop from every time he took a glance over at the casket.

He neared the front of the line quite fast, though that may have been due to the fact that everyone who was ahead of him had stepped out, as if letting him cut them. He swallowed heavily and suddenly found himself face-to-face with Uther.

Arthur's father stared at him with a broken gaze and blood-shot eyes and Merlin extended a hand for a handshake, keeping his own eyes trained on the floor.

He was caught off guard when his hand was batted away and two arms wrapped around him. He felt a face all but press into his neck, smelling a faint scent of alcohol, as tears dripped onto his shirt.

Uther Pendragon was hugging him.

Never in his incredibly long life did he ever think this would ever happen.

Then, he did that even shocked himself.

He brought his arms up, and hugged him back.

And there, stood two men, hugging and crying, both over the loss of the little light that Arthur was in their worlds.


Towards the end of the service, Merlin prepared for the hardest part. Saying goodbye.

He shuffled up to the casket, deliberately taking his time. He dropped to his knees on the kneeler in front of it. He didn't dare to look up.

But he did. And he saw Arthur, laying there as if asleep, as if just waiting for Merlin to wake him up. Tears slipped out.

He didn't care if he was allowed to cry or not anymore. He let the salty liquid stream down his face as he stared at his king, his clotpole, his Arthur lay cold and lifeless.

I love quo.

Merlin blinked as the words popped in his head and shot another painful glance down at Arthur.

He let out a full-blown sob out when he realized it. The strange finger dance Arthur had been doing…it was Morse code. He had just messed up on the "y."

I love you.

Merlin swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed his fingers to his lips, then to Arthur's cheek.

I love you too, he thought. So much. I'll miss you. Goodbye.

THE END.