A/N: Welp, this story is just about a wrap! Just one more chapter (and it'll be short!) and then an epilogue, and we're done! Enjoy this chapter!

"Freya, do you trust me?"

"Yes," she whispered, though it looked like it pained her.

Merlin couldn't look at her after that, so he looked back to the bushes to make sure he'd seen it right. Then, before he could change his mind, he picked up one of the discarded daggers from Valas' attack, turned, and stabbed Freya deep in the gut.

The warmth of her blood on his hand was the worst feeling he could imagine. His eyes were wet as he said, "I'm so sorry," and the worst part was when she couldn't answer. But he knew he didn't have time to concern himself further. He whirled around to the bushes.

"NOW, Arthur!"

And thankfully, a warrior like the king of Camelot didn't need more of a cue than that. Excalibur in hand, Arthur charged out of the bushes in a rage, headed straight for Valas. Merlin could see Gwaine, Leon, and Elyan follow suit. And then, by a miracle, Gwen was there as well. She travelled back around in the treeline until she was by Merlin and Freya.

"Go, Merlin," she told him, kneeling by Freya.

"Gwen," He felt he had to explain, "I-I had to, for it to work, I-"

"I heard what he said, Merlin," She looked up at him, her hand holding Freya's, "Just go."

He did, intentionally not looking back at her or Freya. He raised his hands against the approaching army of Sidhe, flicking small spells back and forth over the lake as needed to defend the knights. Arthur needed no such aid. With Excalibur in his grip, he was a whirling terror, able to kill even the Sidhe that dared come near him. However, well-knowing of the blade's power, the Sidhe avoided him altogether, taunting him from a distance.

Valas, who had remained relatively quiet once Arthur and his small troop sprung from the trees, regained his voice to taunt Merlin.

"You would go this far, Emrys? You would kill the woman you love to save her? You would gamble her life away?"

"Better than handing it over to the likes of you," Merlin spat, and cast a fire spell.

Valas dodged it. "A selfish claim, Emrys. I thought you would respect her wishes in this, yet to my knowledge, she never asked for you to murder her."

Merlin tried to ignore the last phrase. "I told you, Valas, that I would do anything, anything to death itself to protect those I love from anyone who means them harm, from the Sidhe, from you. I meant that."

"And yet, I wonder: Whose death will pay for the debt of security? For surely, the beloved do not become the victimized by a movement of love. You are reckless, and more hateful than even I appear in your eyes."

"I may be reckless, but I am not hateful, nor am I wrong." And it was no longer Merlin, but Emrys who growled, "you cannot win, Valas."

Then, real fear flickered through Valas eyes.

Excalibur clanged against the armor of a Sidhe, and the sound brought both sorcerers back to the battle around them. Gwaine and Leon struggled together against a cloud of Sidhe who dodged their blades like air. Elyan was recovering from a blow to his arm. Arthur held Excalibur and was looking around for a challenger. Valas stood just at the lake's edge, his gaze turning toward Arthur, and to Excalibur. Merlin set his jaw. They had to win.

Focusing his magic, Merlin willed time to slow down, and the scene before him blurred. Then, he turned to Arthur. He had never communicated with the king telepathically, so he hoped that Arthur wouldn't be too startled when he spoke into his mind,

"The Sidhe crave Excalibur, which they once owned. It can kill them, but they know it; they are avoiding you. Valas is still mortal. Let the knights deal with the Sidhe. Occupy yourself with them, but be ready to attack Valas when I give the word."

And slowly, time sped back up to normal. Arthur's head whipped around to Merlin, peering at him in surprise, but then, after the shock subsided, Arthur nodded and turned to aid his knights against the Sidhe. Merlin turned his attention to the human Sidhe.

"Forbaerne!"

It was enough to distract Valas from whatever was happening with his kin, and Merlin dodged the Sidhe's returning volley just in time. Intentionally backtracking away from the main battle, Merlin threw spell after spell to anger and overwhelm Valas further.

Valas growled in anger. "Camelot was never meant to be in your hands, Emrys! Your precious home will fall to our power! To my power. The power I will take from you!" He raised his staff, and lightning sped towards Merlin. It was only through magic that he was left unharmed.

"Camelot is in the hands of the Once and Future King," Merlin replied defensively, "as she should be. And under my watch, you will never so much as look upon her again." As Merlin spun to accommodate Valas' movements, his eyes flicked over to where Freya lay in Gwen's arms, and the queen looked up at him with an expression that spoke volumes. He swallowed. It was time.

"You speak the truth; but your watch is about to end." Valas lunged with his staff again, and narrowly missed. "I will kill you, and your watch will become mine."

"No, Valas, even then you lose." Merlin had to fight to keep his voice from cracking. He turned slowly, deliberately repositioning himself and Valas opposite him. "Your last hope, the only vessel you have any control over, is dying." He was somewhat surprised when Valas smiled.

"So she is. And seeing you suffer that, I must say, is more a victory than I had anticipated." Merlin grit his teeth, but did not attack. Valas looked over at Freya, then back at Merlin with a sneer. "I suppose I just have to kill you quickly, anyway."

Merlin let out a smooth breath, and tried to remember, tried to summon every ounce of grief and anger and raw emotion that had allowed him to save Gaius' life all those years ago. He saw Valas raise his staff, and he closed his eyes.

"You too are a creature of the Old Religion,"

"Abas ocus bithe duthected bithlane,"

"Mastered the power of life and death itself,"

"They've sent me here to kill you,"

"I'm dying, Merlin,"

"I'll look after you,"

"I promise."

He could feel it swirling deep within his chest, rising up from a place rarely touched. A power so raw and so expansive that Merlin was surprised that he knew what to do with it. It was silent for a moment as it traveled to his fingertips, but then it was at hand, and his eyes snapped back open and his mind screamed out an order: "Now, Arthur!"

And all at once, Valas attacked, the king of Camelot spun around, Emrys ducked, and Excalibur hit its target with an unnatural ringing that spoke triumph into the ears of its weilder.

Merlin lowered his arm from where it'd risen to guard his face, and he saw Valas' eyes, wide and surprised, staring at him above a chest run through by the blade of the dragon's breath. For a moment the sorcerer only stared, before his mortal form disintegrated until he was a Sidhe like the rest, and then, he disappeared entirely, leaving only blood on Arthur's sword.

The lake was deathly quiet. Valas was dead, and yet Merlin did not feel the rush of victory. No one did. Had it worked?

"Merlin," It was Gwen, and the warlock turned. She was still bent over Freya, and her expression made his heart stop. He rushed over.

"Freya," he bent over her, and Gwen scurried out of the way. "Freya," He called more insistently, cradling her limp face in his hands. Her skin was clammy. He looked her up and down, and quickly removed the dagger from her gut. His hands were covered in her blood and he didn't seem to notice. "It had to have worked. Freya!" He touched her face again, his hands smearing red. "Please, it has to work," He shook her, trying to rouse her. "Please,"

The king, queen, and their knights had gathered around some distance away, watching with similar expressions of disbelief and grief.

"No, no." Merlin was on the verge of tears as his dirty hands rubbed at her too-cold cheek. "Please, I can't. You can't leave. I promised." He choked on the first sob. "Please, not again."

Gwen had tears streaming down her shocked face, and grabbed onto Arthur's arm. The king couldn't respond. Not again. Merlin's words repeated themselves as he rocked Freya back and forth, his forehead bent against hers, crying onto her face.

Arthur had seen Merlin angry, sad, and upset before. Somehow, strong emotions from the warlock tended to coincide with magical outbursts – rooms destroyed, storms in clear skies, even small earthquakes. But in that moment, as Arthur looked down on Emrys – no, Merlin – he did not see a dragonlord, or a warlock, not even a petty magician. All he saw was a man with a breaking heart and no power to fix it; tired, broken, and weeping.

And he didn't know how to respond.

"Please," Merlin could only whisper and pretend he couldn't smell the blood, try to forget the fact that he was the one who put it there. Not again, he spoke to a mind that was no longer there. His shoulders shook but he made no sound.

Then, the lake began to tremble. At first, Arthur thought it was Merlin, and turned to say something to him, but then Gwaine turned toward the lake and smacked Arthur's arm until he turned around and looked too. It was the Sidhe. Immediately, Arthur drew Excalibur, and his knights followed suit. The Sidhe who led the rest did not look happy, but was submissive as he announced:

"As Emrys has judged, so the laws of the Old Religion must concede."

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who wasn't paying any attention. "What do you mean?" He asked, but the Sidhe ignored him.

"The Sidhe have no choice but to accept the movements of the Old Magic. All hail the Lady of Avalon," he said in a ceremonious voice, and bowed where he floated in the air. "Hail," The sidhe said and, one by one, knelt. The knights stared in confusion, until a sound came from behind them: a breath.

Merlin had jumped back from Freya. Her form was dark in the night, wet with blood and water, and dirty with sand, but her eyes were open and blazed with magic. Her back arched against the shore as she drew in a gasping breath.

"Freya?" Merlin breathed. She didn't appear to hear him, and pushed herself up easily, as though she hadn't ever been stabbed or cursed or even remotely tired a day in her life. Her eyes still ablaze, she stood with a stature and a presence so powerful that, for a moment, none of them recognized her. She slowly walked toward the lake, until she was in it, deeper and deeper up to her waist. When she spoke, it was the voice of a queen.

"I am Freya, and I am the Lady of your Lake. I have been granted the power of your elders, those that would betray me, and my family, and Camelot my ally. Their ends will be pursued no longer. My will is the will of Avalon. And my will is peace."

The company on the bank could only watch with open-mouthed expressions as the Sidhe, only minutes ago anticipating her death and attacking her defenders, now bowed obediently at her behest, their heads dipped low, if not begrudgingly, to her honor. Freya took it in and slowly, the gold in her eyes began to fade, and the commanding lift to her shoulders slumped.

"This is my lake," She said in her own voice, and collapsed into the water.

While the rest stood unmovable and gaping, Merlin sprung immediately into the water after her, digging her up in the fear that she might drown. She came up in his arms soaking wet, gasping, and smiling. "A lake, just like you said," she laughed, and put her hands on either side of his face. "I told you you'd already saved me, Merlin," She said, and then, for only his mind to hear, "I promise, never again." Even through the lakewater on his face, she could see him crying in his laughter, holding her hands to his dirty face. Their eyes met, and both of them knew that everything between them would finally, at long, long last, be well and truly alright.

The knights and their royals watched the scene unfold from the shore, and although some of them were looking at the Sidhe and others were falling to the ground out of relief, Arthur was watching his best friend and a woman he'd grown to love as a sister in one of the strangest, most tender, completely Merlin moments he'd ever witnessed. Waist deep in water, both covered in Freya's blood, Merlin still in breeches and a nightshirt singed by magic, with sand caked to their faces by tears and the lake water that covered them head to toe, holding each other, laughing like children. And then, something happened that, looking back on later, Arthur thought he probably should have seem coming a mile away.

Arthur had never seen Merlin kiss anyone. It was a claim he could never make again.

Gaius had nearly gone mad with worry when they returned. He'd seen them coming before they reached the gates, and he went out to meet them. He waited there impatiently, having every intention to grill them on their whereabouts and demand why no one had informed him that Valas had made his move. He'd summarized what must have happened up to the point of Merlin leaving, but in all the theories that he'd postulated over his restless wait in the castle, he wasn't prepared for the sight that walked through the front gates. All questions died on his lips as he looked them over. There were no injuries, no frowns, no cries, not even a limp. There was only dirt, giggles, and the residual smell of lakewater. Despite it all, he found the face he couldn't ever help but to worry about, and went up to him.

"Merlin," he said, pulling the man into a quick hug before looking him up and down. "What on earth have you done?" He glanced at Freya, who seemed healthy, and Arthur, who still held Excalibur at his side. "What's happened to Valas?"

And Merlin could only laugh.

Thankfully, although Merlin seemed too bemused to even begin thinking about explaining, Leon, ever level headed, and Arthur, who'd seen the most, explained the events as quickly and as clearly as possible. It was during this retelling that they all learned two things: the first, that Freya only held a hazy memory of her address to the Sidhe, and the second, of Excalibur's uncanny communication with Arthur. Gwen was the one who'd mentioned it, and all of them seemed surprised by the revelation.

"I've never heard of anything like it. Did you know about such a power?" Merlin asked, looking at Freya, who had guarded the weapon for so long. She shook her head.

"Excalibur has always been a powerful weapon, but neither I nor the Sidhe knew it possessed such abilities."

"I've never read of its like, Sire," Gaius commented.

"Well, Kilgarrah said it was forged for Arthur alone," Merlin said, looking to the king. "Perhaps that means more than we thought. Excalibur speaks only you, Arthur."

All eyes turned to the king, and Arthur glanced between them, then shrugged. "Well at any rate, if it weren't for its damned racket," He glanced down at the blade and sighed. "you wouldn't be alive." He looked up at Merlin. "So I suppose I can live without questioning its conversational habits for a day or two. Even if it is a sword."

Merlin laughed and nodded, realizing how tired he felt. "We are alive. And of that, I am eternally thankful." His hand found Freya's. Although he was too exhausted to notice, everyone in the room saw it and smiled.

The following days were a whirl of confusion as the truth about Valas came out, and the story of Freya's rescue and the involvement of the king and his Court Sorcerer slowly surfaced. Details were left out, such as Excalibur and the rites of life and death. The story was simplified for the masses, and embellished upon by the more flamboyant re-tellers, but after an official address by the king, the castle seemed to have it straight. And they'd never been prouder of Lord Emrys and his Lady.

That was another thing, Merlin thought as he tied his scarf around his neck. In addition to all the confusion over Valas, Freya was back in Camelot, and she had every intention of staying permanently. To the court, and the royals, and to him, her presence spelled the inevitable. It made him smile at his reflection as he straightened his tunic.

"You had better," Gwen had said when he had, somewhat timidly, brought up the idea of marriage to Freya. "If you don't, I'll never forgive either of you."

Still, they'd decided to move it slowly. They announced their courtship (to the surprise of no one) a week or so after the death of Valas. Merlin had sent a letter to Ealdor attempting to explain the entire fiasco in one fell swoop, against the advice of Gwen and Freya. He passed with arguable levels of success, but Hunith had heard of Freya from Merlin's past, and seemed sometimes too understanding of the strange and obscure messes that magic wrought in her son's life. She showed no qualms in riding up to Camelot to meet the young lady who had come to court her son and listen to them tell the rather astonishing tale of how it came to be that way. It was her arrival at Camelot, in fact, that had Merlin up early on a weekend in his nicest neckerchief and a cleanly shaven face.

A knock sounded on his door and Freya let herself in. "Gwaine's gone out to meet her, they'll be here soon," she said, and found him standing in front of the looking glass.

"How do I look?" He asked, turning to her.

"Rumpled," she said, and came up to straighten his collar. After years in the attire of a servant, Merlin still hadn't quite grasped the idea that the nicer clothes he was allotted as Court Sorcerer were, in fact, intended to be treated more nicely. "That's better." She patted the front of his tunic down, then smiled up at him. She frowned fractionally. "Only… Merlin, you've missed a spot." She touched a rough spot just under his jawline, and he found it.

"Again?" he asked the air, and turned to his washroom. He emerged moments later and smiled. "Better?"

"Much."

He leaned down to kiss her on the lips, and wondered at how natural it all felt, how comfortable he was in her presence. She pulled away and began fiddling with his sleeve, determinedly trying to iron out the wrinkles with the heel of her palm. He thought he could have her fuss over his clothes every day, no matter how ridiculous, and he wouldn't mind. He smiled down at her, completely uncaring for whatever she was doing to his tunic sleeve.

Eventually, she seemed satisfied, and turned toward the door. "Come on, don't want to keep your poor mother waiting. I can't wait to meet her."

He frowned as he followed her. "What do you mean, 'poor'?"

"She has you as a son, doesn't she? I can't imagine all you've put her through, what with the magic." She turned and glanced at him. "And the ears."

Merlin mocked offense at the sally and looked serious when he said, "I'll have you know that she is my mother and has always loved me very much," He said, "ears and all."

Freya laughed. "Any woman would be utterly mad to love you."

He was only slightly behind her when he cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Are you mad?" He couldn't see her smile, but heard it instead.

"Only a little."