I don't know how I managed to write this. Let's just say many boxes of Kleenex gave their lives for this chapter.

Merlin finished packing up the bedroll. "I think you'll find everything you need."

"Impressive," Arthur said, frowning at the neatly ordered collection of supplies on the table. "Very impressive. Not from you, anyway."

"Thanks," Merlin said, deadpanning.

Arthur folded his arms. "All right, what are you after?"

"After?"

"Come on, Merlin. You were the worst servant in the history of the world and you only got worse once the sex started. Now suddenly this. What do you want?"

"Nothing," Merlin replied. "I just wanted to make sure you had all you needed for your journey to Camlann. For the days ahead."

"Thank you." Arthur walked over to Merlin, hands raising to pull him in, but then he paused. "Merlin. What do you mean, my journey."

Merlin took a deep breath, keeping his hands firmly behind his back so he wouldn't be tempted to reach out to him. "I'm afraid I won't be coming with you. Not this time." Arthur opened his mouth and took a half step forward, ready to protest, and Merlin hurried on. "I'm sorry. I have an urgent errand to run for Gaius. Vital supplies that I can't attain here."

"Vital supplies?" Merlin could see that Arthur didn't believe him.

"Yes, it's—"

"No, no it's fine," Arthur cut him off, the hurt plain in his face. "It's fine, I understand."

"Arthur…"

Arthur had been avoiding Merlin's face, but now he looked straight into his eyes. Merlin could see that Arthur's eyes were shining oddly, the way they always did when he was trying not to let tears spill over. "You know, Merlin, all those jokes about you being a coward… I never really meant any of them. I always thought you were the bravest man I ever met." His tone grew bitter. "Guess I was wrong."

Arthur swept out of the room before Merlin could reply.

Merlin knew that he'd only said it because he was hurt and surprised. Merlin had always followed Arthur, had promised to always follow Arthur, and Arthur had come to take it for granted. He knew that this was the climactic battle, and whether he would admit it or not Arthur knew it too, and would turn to Merlin for support. Merlin had given his love repeatedly, and Arthur had come to lean upon it. Now that Merlin would not be there he was lost, and Merlin wished with everything he had that he could change things.

But he needed his magic back. He had no hope of saving Arthur without it.

It all boiled down to that, didn't it?

Love, and love, and love, and love.

"Arthur!"

Arthur frowned as he saw Gwen coming up. "Guinevere. What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

"The battlefield is no place for the heir to the throne. If I die, and you die, then who will rule?"

"I have no intention of joining you in the battle itself, I assure you," Gwen said, readying her saddle. "But if these are to be your last days, then I would rather spend them with my family then waiting here for those that may never return."

Arthur hugged her. It wasn't Merlin, but Gwen could still provide support.

Arthur sat at the table in his tent, thinking. He knew he should have been readying his mind for battle, but his thoughts were far away. Where was Merlin? Could he possibly return before the battle?

Would he ever see him again?

Gwen entered the tent, frowning when she saw Arthur's untouched dinner. "What is it?"

Arthur quickly schooled his thoughts away, as Uther had taught him. "What if Sir Leon was right? Perhaps we should've made our stand at Camelot."

Gwen moved forward and placed her splayed hands on the table. "Your plan is brave and bold, and our only chance of defeating Morgana once and for all. Yes, we could of held out at the Citadel, but for how long? And at what cost to the kingdom? I have never for a moment doubted the valor and wisdom of this choice."

Arthur stood and walked over to her, taking her hands in his. "You know that I appreciate every bit of respect that you give me. If you don't doubt me, than I see no reason to doubt myself."

"Merlin does not doubt you either," Gwen said softly. "Remember that."

Arthur turned his face away, afraid of what she would see. "I know that."

"He would be here if he could."

"I know."

Gwen sighed and tugged on his hands. "Come. You should rest."

He let her lead him to the bed and crawled in, with Gwen taking up a post on the chair next to it. "Sleep. I'll wake you when it's time."

Arthur nodded, and tried to rest.

Images flashed through the crystal. Some showed what had already passed, some showed things yet to come. Merlin sorted through them desperately, trying to find the present moment.

Trying to find Arthur.

"Arthur," he whispered, his eyes glowing gold as he waded through the flashing images. "Where are you?"

The images parted, as if by a wave of the hand, and Merlin saw him.

Arthur was sleeping on his camp bed, the one put in his tent when he was out on a battle campaign. Merlin recognized the shape of the headboard and the color of the sheets, white embroidered with gold. Arthur slept fitfully, one of his arms stretched out, a hand clenching and unclenching as it searched for someone who was not there. Gwen sat curled in a chair by the bed, her head resting on her chin, a book in her lap as she dozed.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered. "Arthur, I'm sorry I had to leave you. I didn't want to. I hope one day you'll understand why." He swallowed down his explanations, his declarations of emotion. Now was not the time. "Your plan is a good one and you may yet save this kingdom, but you must army's flank is vulnerable. There's an old path over the ridge of Camlann, and Morgana knows of it. She means to trap you, Arthur. Find the path or the battle will be over before it's begun." Merlin's voice rose. "Find the path!"

Arthur awoke with a start. "Merlin!"

Gwen started awake, the book falling off her lap. "What's the matter?"

Arthur looked around himself confusedly. "Merlin."

Gwen leaned over, putting her hand on his shoulder. "It was just a dream." Despite her hopes and Gwaine's insistence that Merlin would return, the prince consort had yet to arrive.

"Didn't feel like a dream," Arthur said. "It felt…"

He jumped up and ran out of the tent, leaving a confused and worried Guinevere behind.

It was the last time she would ever see him.

The battle was raging hot, and Arthur was unsure of victory. Their foes were many, they were closed in, and now they had a dragon attacking them.

There was a crack of lightning and all the men around Arthur went flying. They were dead before they hit the ground.

Arthur looked up, toward the crest of the cliffs.

An old man—the one who had once called himself Dragoon the Great—stood at the top, a staff held aloft in his hand. It was from his staff that the rods of lightning crackled, destroying anyone who came close to Arthur. The white dragon swooped down again, prepared to attack, but the sorcerer boomed out a command in dragon speak and she halted, her fiery breath dying.

Dragon speak…

Arthur squinted, trying to get a better look at the sorcerer. The puzzle pieces were there, all there—if he could just—

But there was no time. Not right then.

Arthur hoisted Excalibur above his head. "For the love of Camelot!" He shouted, charging forward.

"Guinevere!" Leon burst into the hospital tent, seizing her hands. "The battle is won. The Saxons are in full retreat. They're making for the hills. I've dispatched 200 men to drive our advantage home."

Gwen hugged him, laughing with disbelief. "We've won!" She repeated in a whisper.

Leon kissed her, dipping her slightly, and several patients in the tent whooped.

They parted, smiling. "How is everyone?"

"Percival's fine. Gwaine's still, well, Gwaine."

"And Arthur?"

Leon's face fell. "We're still looking."

Gwen stumbled back a step, bracing herself on a table. She looked over at Gaius, and then at Leon. "But if he's—then I—"

"Don't despair just yet," Leon advised. "We'll keep looking."

Gwen nodded. "Thank you." Leon took a step toward her but she held up her hand. "I'll need fresh water as well," she said.

A knight ran to fetch it for her. Leon took her hand in his and kissed it gently. "You will make a fine queen some day."

Gwen drew herself up. "I pray today is not that day."

Merlin was terrified that Arthur wouldn't wake up.

He had used magic to carry Arthur away from the battlefield, through the wetlands to the forest, and Arthur hadn't once stirred. Now he sat with his back to him, afraid at what he'd find if he looked again.

"Merlin?"

Merlin jumped and turned around. Arthur was staring at him through feverish eyes, cloudy and confused. Merlin hurried over to him. "How are you feeling?"

Arthur tried to sit up and gasped in pain, grabbing Merlin's shoulder.

"Lie back," Merlin said, helping him back down. "Lie back." He pushed Arthur's hair away from his forehead, feeling how hot the fever raged.

"Where have you been?" Arthur asked, still holding him in a death grip.

"It doesn't matter now," Merlin soothed. He gently eased Arthur's fingers off of him, kissing the gloved hands.

"My side…" Arthur said, trying to get a good look.

"It's bleeding," Merlin said, carefully keeping his tone neutral.

"Oh, good," Arthur quipped, grimacing through the pain. "I thought I was dying."

"I'm sorry." Merlin swallowed, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of his voice. "I thought I'd defied the prophecy." He looked down at Arthur's hands, running his thumb over the knuckles. "I thought I was in time."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head, ashamed of the tears that threatened to leak out. "I defeated the Saxons. The dragon. And yet… and yet I knew that it was Mordred I must stop."

Arthur reached up and gently wiped a few stray tears away. The action made him grunt in pain. "The person who defeated them was the sorcerer."

Yet the moment he said it, he knew that was wrong. It was right, but it was also… incomplete. Arthur gazed up into Merlin's grieving face.

And the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.

"It was me," Merlin confessed, crying in earnest. He gripped Arthur's wrist tightly, terrified that Arthur would pull away.

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur said faintly. "This is stupid, how could you say that?"

"I'm a…" Merlin couldn't finish the sentence. He took a heaving breath and tried again. "I'm a sorcerer. I have magic." He looked up at Arthur, begging him to understand. "And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you."

"Merlin, you are not a sorcerer. I would know!" He had to know. This was his husband, the person he shared a bedroom, a life… everything with. How could he not know?

"Look, here." Merlin turned toward the fire and stretched out his hand. "Upastige draca!"

Some of the flames separated from the rest and took a new shape, turning into a tiny dragon before falling away.

Merlin looked back at Arthur, who stared at where the flame dragon had been. He didn't… how had he not known?

And yet he had known, in some way. He had suspected it in earnest since the night of the dice—he had seen Merlin's eyes flash gold but he hadn't wanted to believe, hadn't trusted his instincts because he didn't want… Merlin wouldn't lie, Merlin never lied to him, how could—he couldn't—

"Leave me."

Merlin made a choking sound. Arthur had heard that noise before, on the battlefield. It was the sound of someone being run straight through. "Arthur—"

"No." Arthur closed his eyes. He couldn't look at Merlin's face. If he did, his resolve would crumble. "Just…" He swallowed. "You heard! Just…"

He couldn't complete the sentence, and so simply turned his face away.

Merlin got up and moved without a word, walking away into the forest.

Arthur pretended not to hear the faint scream that echoed out minutes later.

Thing was, Arthur knew that Merlin knew that Arthur was only pretending to sleep. But neither of them said anything. Merlin, from what Arthur could sense, seemed to be alternating between constantly checking on Arthur and forcing himself not to look at Arthur at all. Arthur, for his part, mastered the art of faking sleep.

It was like a horrible children's game: see who cracked first.

The second Merlin took off, Arthur opened his eyes and grabbed Gaius's robe. "He's a sorcerer."

Gaius's face said it all. Arthur sank back against the ground. "You knew."

"Arthur, he is your husband."

"I want him gone."

They both knew that Arthur didn't mean it.

"There is no need to fear him," Gaius replied.

"Have him take word to Camelot. To Guinevere." Gwen would be worried sick about the both of them.

"You cannot send Merlin. I will go."

"I need a physician right now, not a sorcerer."

"He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine. Arthur, he doesn't just have magic…" Gaius paused. "There are those who say he's the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth."

Arthur gaped up at him in disbelief. "Merlin?"

"If you are to stand any chance of survival, you'll need Merlin to help you, not me."

Arthur looked over at where Merlin was feeding Gaius's horse, stroking its nose and murmuring to it. He was the man that Arthur had married: kind and loyal and selfless and understanding and far, far more in love with Arthur than Arthur deserved.

And yet… he wasn't the same man at all.

"Arthur?"

It was the first time Merlin had spoken to him since Arthur had dismissed him the night before. He reluctantly turned his head to face him. Merlin flinched at whatever he saw in Arthur's gaze, but he stood strong. "We need to leave at first light."

"I'll decide."

"I can't let you die," Merlin burst out, his eyes wet. He turned away, and Arthur could see his chest slowly expand as he took a calming breath.

"It doesn't change anything," Arthur replied.

Merlin simply walked out into the darkened forest.

Merlin helped Arthur get up onto his horse, tying him in place. It made Arthur feel like an infant, but Merlin's expression as he settled him in, avoiding his gaze, made Arthur keep his mouth shut.

"Gaius," Arthur called.

Gaius approached hesitantly, most likely afraid that Arthur would try and convince him to take Merlin's place. Instead, Arthur reached up and took off his necklace. He looked up and saw Merlin watching him, and knew that Merlin knew what Arthur was doing. Staring at Arthur's hands, Merlin nodded.

Arthur turned to Gaius and handed him the necklace. "Give this to Guinevere."

Gaius stared down at it. "This is the royal seal, sire."

"If I am to die, I can think of no one who I would rather succeed me." The matter had been settled long ago, but it felt good to say those words. Gwen would make a great queen. The bards would sing many a tale about her.

Gaius laid his hand over Arthur's and nodded his head.

It was the last time that Arthur ever saw Gaius.

Arthur did not know this, but it was the last time that Gaius ever saw Merlin, either.

Merlin supported Arthur's head, trying to get him to eat some soup. Arthur ignored the food. He didn't need it anyway. He could feel how heavy his limbs were, how his body felt strangely cold.

He didn't tell Merlin any of this.

"This will be good for you," Merlin insisted. "You need to eat."

Arthur stared up at him. "Why are you doing this? Why are you still caring for me?"

Merlin set the spoon back in its bowl. "It's my destiny. As it has been since the day we met."

Arthur frowned. "I tried to take your head off with a mace."

"And I stopped you, using magic."

Arthur wasn't sure if he should laugh or be outraged. "You cheated!"

"You were going to kill me."

"I should've," Arthur grumbled.

He'd meant it as a joke, a part of the nostalgia as they recalled the not-so-illustrious beginning of their relationship, but Merlin took it differently and all the mirth fled his face. "I'm glad you didn't. I do this because of who you are." Arthur stared at him. "Without you, Camelot's nothing."

"There was a time when that was true. Not now. There are many who can fill the crown."

Merlin shook his head, his voice thick. "There will never be another like you, Arthur." He looked down at the soup. "Now, I also do this…" He looked up. "Because I love you, and I can't stand to lose you."

Arthur tried to speak, but his throat closed up with unshed tears.

He looked away instead.

Arthur collapsed against the tree and Merlin raced to him, waterskin in hand. "Arthur, you need to hold on. One more day." He threw Arthur's arm over his shoulder and supported him as he helped Arthur drink from the waterskin. "One more day."

"Why… did you never tell me?" Arthur asked.

"I wanted to," Merlin admitted. "But…"

"What?"

"You'd have chopped my head off."

It was a valid argument. Arthur considered what he might have done, had he known. "I'm not sure what I would have done." He'd have had to uphold the law, but he would have wanted to save the man he loved.

It was Morded and his druid girl all over again, except Merlin hadn't killed anyone, had never done anything out of hate.

"That's what worried you?"

"Some men are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great kings. Me, I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that. And I wouldn't change a thing."

Arthur stared up at Merlin, dumbfounded. How could Merlin say those things, talk about his devotion like it was nothing?

"Ready?" Merlin asked.

Arthur felt like his world had turned upside down.

There was a fire going, but Arthur couldn't feel it.

There was a log at his back. He could feel that.

Merlin helped him drink some water. It wasn't cool and refreshing, but instead strangely numbing. He drank obediently anyway.

"Merlin, whatever happens…"

"Shh." Merlin kissed his forehead. All the Arthur had just put him through, and yet he still bestowed him with gestures of love. "Don't talk."

"I'm the king, Merlin," Arthur said, just to save face. "You can't tell me what to do."

"I always have," Merlin replied, forcing humor into his tone. "I'm not going to change now."

"I don't want you to change," Arthur admitted. "I want you… to always… be you." Breathing hurt, as did talking. "I'm sorry about how I treated you. I should have… trusted you." He tried raising his left hand but failed. Merlin caught it anyway, holding it to his chest. "You're… what it says. On my ring. My…"

Darkness closed around him, swift and silent, and he passed out.

Merlin checked his pulse. It was unsteady and sluggish, but it was still there. He kissed Arthur on the cheek. "Get some sleep."

Arthur staggered along. His limbs—he couldn't feel them. He could hardly feel anything. They couldn't hold him, he—

"Come on, we have to make it to the lake."

Arthur fell on top of Merlin, sending them both sprawling. It made the ever-present pain in his gut spike. It was time. The end was near. "Merlin…" He gasped, the pain making his body come alive again momentarily. "Not without the horses. We can't, it's too late. It's too late."

"No." Merlin tried to shove Arthur off him, get up, and carry Arthur all at the same time.

"All your magic, Merlin, can't save my life," Arthur informed him, knowing it was true.

Merlin shifted so that he was sitting up, Arthur's head on his shoulder, Arthur's body draped in his lap. "I can. I'm not going to lose you."

"Just, just hold me," Arthur begged. "Please."

Merlin stopped trying to get up and wrapped his arms around Arthur instead, cradling him. He stroked his cheek, and Arthur let out a sigh of relief that he could still feel it. Merlin's body was solid and warm against his, and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine they were back at home. Home, in Camelot.

Camelot.

He would never see it again.

"There's something I want to say."

Merlin was crying again. His tears were falling on Arthur's face. "You're not going to say goodbye."

"No, Merlin…" Arthur managed to bump his nose against Merlin's neck, a parody of the nuzzles he usually bestowed. "Everything you've done. I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build…"

Merlin sniffled. "You'd have done it without me."

"Maybe." Arthur could feel the darkness sneaking over him again, as unstoppable as nightfall. "I love you."

"I know," Merlin sobbed. "I know, I know, I love you too, I love—"

"I want to say, something I've never said to you before…" Arthur could hardly see. His vision was dimming, narrowing until he could only see Merlin's face. He reached up and brushed his knuckles against Merlin's cheekbone. "Thank you."

The last thing he heard were Merlin's screams.

But the last thing he felt was a brush of lips.

First on his forehead, and then pressed against his own. They were warm, and soft, and he clung to them.

And then all was nothing.