The battle has begun. Screaming, clashing and the sounds of war can be heard; outside, it is dark, stars illuminate the night sky, and the air is smoky. The Queen is rushing around shouting orders as she helps Gaius treat the wounded, many of which are their own Knights, and the innocent townspeople. Sir Percival has been bringing in the wounded, for he himself could no longer fight, on Gaius' orders; he carries the corpse of another Knight, Sir Galahad. When Gwen saw him in his armour, lifeless and cold, her heart ached for Arthur but she swallowed her upset and worked on determinedly, for Camelot needed her now more than ever. Outside, fires rage, the courtyard is destroyed, and motherless children run frantically to the safety of the castle as Sir Leon rallies the Knights once more. "ON ME!," he yelled as they charged, blades clashing, bodies dropping, men screaming in their final bloody moments. Merlin was not there, but he had good reason- KIlgharrah.
The Great Dragon had summoned him, like the time they had first met, and Merlin could almost feel the pull, the lure, and he was unable to resist the call. After all, the Dragon was old, and his kin, and Merlin owed him something for all the times KiIgharrah had helped him when he was young and naive; when he arrived at their meeting place, Merlin was surprised to see that he looked almost as he had when they'd parted ways five years ago, if a little tired. "Why did you bring me here, Dragon?," he asked; the Dragon, when he spoke, sounded solemn. "When we first met, what did you come to ask me, Merlin?" Merlin remembered the night as well as any other. "I asked you what my destiny was." Kilgharrah's eyes seemed to glow intensely as he spoke. "And I said to you that Arthur is the Once and Future King, who will unite the lands of Albion. " Merlin frowned. "I don't understand, wh-" he began , but the Dragon continued, interrupting. "I also told you that without you, Arthur would never succeed. There would be no Albion." Merlin's mind worked to understand, to put the pieces together but still, he was confused. "But the lands of Albion have been united!" KIlgharrah snorted derisively. "The lands of Albion are in great peril, Merlin! The prophecy states that when Albion's time of need is greatest, he shall return, and indeed, that time is now." Merlin couldn't believe it. He felt sick, his legs shook, and his mind flooded with memories, worries and doubts, for it had been many years since Arthur's demise, and much had changed. "Arthur has returned? But..no spell can reawaken the dead, nothing can bring a dead man back. He was dead!" Merlin's emotions were churning up inside him, for he clearly remembered the afternoon in which Arthur died in his arms; it had taken a long time for the nightmares to stop, for the gaping wound to heal, for the feeling of absolute loss to fade away and now it was threatening to come flooding back and he was unsure of his ability to cope. "Merlin," the Dragon continued, "The battle is almost lost, but you must not lose hope. Go back to Avalon and fulfil your destiny." Merlin had tears streaking his cheeks at the memory of Arthur's demise and in spite of himself he nodded. "I must ask a favour of you first, Dragon."
It had been some time since Merlin had been to Avalon. The enigmatic air and magic still lingered, and the cold sent a shiver of anticipation up his spine; he could sense something in the air, like something was going to happen, and idly he thought of what the reaction would be upon Arthur's return to Camelot- would the people accept him? And what of Queen Guinevere?
As he tried to imagine, he barely noticed the smooth surface begin to ripple, gently at first and then violently, water rolling and crashing; the water began to wall up on either side, towering, magnificent, until a clear path was formed and a powerful, blinding light flooded the whole area; Merlin squinted, unable to see, falling to his knees as a figure arose from the path end and began to travel slowly along the path, clad in pure black armour, soaking wet; Time itself seemed to slow down and the scene played out until Merlin was able to open his eyes and peer cautiously at the impressive figure of the Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon, saviour and miracle of Albion. As the King reached the shore, a disembodied voice could be heard which seemed to come from the very earth itself.
"Good luck, Arthur Pendragon."
Merlin stayed where he was on the ground, in shock, heart hammering and mouth unable to form words- Arthur stood once more before him, something which he'd never imagined would happen, looking aged, worn, but clad in armour the like of which he'd never seen: it was like water, but completely dry, and as black as night itself. There was a silence that stretched for a long time, both just looking at each other but unable to speak, the time apart too damaging, everything radically different.
"Merlin."
When Arthur spoke, his voice was almost as Merlin remembered, except it was husky, like he'd been crying; Merlin rose. "Sire." Apart from that, there seemed to be nothing to say but Arthur continued. "Merlin...what of Guinevere? What of Camelot?" Merlin looked his King in the eye before he spoke, wondering what exactly to say. "When you died, a part of Guinevere died, too. For a long time, we had neither King or Queen. Camelot was maintained as best it could be, but the Knights could only do so much, it was vulnerable- a fleet of saxons invaded and the United Lands of Albion are in mortal peril. The Knights are outnumbered, and once they are down the outlying lands will be in danger. It is your destiny to save us all, Arthur. We must go back to Camelot, and soon."
Arthur shook his head, defeated. "No. I can never go back."
Merlin was suddenly filled with a passion, for King and country, and he said firmly, "Arthur Pendragon, you are the Once and Future King. Without you, there would be no Albion! Without you, Camelot is nothing! It is your destiny, Arthur, you must return for Albion's hour of need is indeed its greatest."
Arthur drew his sword from its sheath confidently, determination ruling his expression. "For the love of Camelot!," he said confidently- He suddenly stopped and looking at Merlin, confused. "How exactly do you propose we get to Camelot?"
"Well…"
To say simply that the king had returned was an understatement- like the Phoenix, he was reborn in a blaze of smoke and fire, glory and valour, swooping down upon the kingdom to reclaim what was rightfully his. Their Queen watched proudly from the castle, elation and joy filling her heart where once there was nothing but pain and emptiness, the part of her that for so long had been missing finally returned; Gaius smiled knowingly and continued to treat the wounded, knowing that everything would be well from now on. Arthur was now grounded as Merlin controlled the dragon, with what remained of his decimated Knights- upon seeing their King again they had been astounded, stunned, but then overcome with renewed vigour and determination. With Arthur at their side they could win this, for sure. Arthur rallied them, regrouped, and then he roared "FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!", charging forth to slay what remained of the enemy, which was now almost nothing thanks to Kilgharrah's flame and Arthur's sword, which was just as lethal as ever despite its years underwater.
The whole city was in ruins, a smoking mess, rubble scattered amongst the bodies of the fallen Knights, and townspeople; Merlin was assisting Gaius, as those who has survived the calamity moved to the safety of the castle, their livelihoods obliterated, their families extinct. Queen Guinevere came out into the square. Her eyes locked on Arthur, who was windswept and dirty, but alive. She began to run across the square, holding up her dress and not caring for the debris in her path, until she was safely in Arthur's arms again , where she belonged, where she would always belong.