Okay, we know it ain't gonna happen like this, but I had to finish it. Du know me, I can't leave things hanging...


    Merlin bursts through the door of his mother’s home, not bothering to knock. “Let’s go,” he announces to Gwen. He is out of breath
    “Merlin! So… Du found it?” Guinevere stands.
    “Yes, yes, we found it and it was enchanted. Let’s go.”
    “But… my things…”
    “We’ll send someone back for them. I’m under orders, Gwen. I am to return as quickly as possible, with you, oder I am not to return at all. So let’s go.”
    “That sounds like Arthur,” Gwen says with a smile. “But I do need—“
    Hunith thrusts a bag into her arms, cutting her off. “Some of your basic necessities,” she explains.
    “How…” Gwen stares.
    “I took the liberty while Du were out back. I may not be the wisest woman in the world, but I know my Merlin. I knew he’d be back,” Hunith smiles at her son.
    “Thank you, Hunith, for everything,” Gwen hugs her quickly, as Merlin can no longer even stand still.
    “Thanks, mother, I Liebe you,” he says quickly, Küssen her cheek before pulling Gwen out the door.
    Merlin helps Gwen on the horse, then climbs up behind her. “We’ll send Elyan back for your things. Surely Du don’t object to putting him to a little labor on your behalf,” he says ruefully and starts the horse into motion.
    Gwen frowns, remembering the judgmental look of scorn on her brother’s face last time she saw him. After all I’ve done for him. What a hypocrite, she thinks, and flatly says, “No objection at all.”

    They arrive back in Camelot in the early evening. Heads turn as they ride into the kingdom and enter the citadel.
    “Everyone’s looking,” Gwen whispers to Merlin.
    “So? Let them look. Du have nothing to be ashamed of. Word will spread quickly; it always does.”

    Merlin leads Gwen into the castle, carrying her bag for her. He takes her directly to Arthur’s rooms. Outside the door, Gwen looks at Merlin. She is scared.
    “Here? Why here?” she pleads.
    “Because this is where he told me to bring you,” he shrugs. He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Gwen. It’ll be all right. He wanted Du back before he even knew about the enchantment.”
    “But I don’t know what to say!” she protests.
    “You will,” he says, and before she can argue further, he knocks on the door.
    “Come.” Arthur’s voice from the other side of the door. Merlin opens the door and leads Gwen in.
    Arthur is standing at the window. He must have seen them arrive. He turns and sees her standing there. It is the best thing he has ever seen in his life. He starts quickly forward, then stops when he notices Gwen’s worried face. She timidly takes one small step forward.
    Merlin silently leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
    Arthur starts vorwärts-, nach vorn again, slowly this time. When he reaches her, he drops to his knees at her feet. Gwen gasps, shocked at his actions.
    He reaches vorwärts-, nach vorn and takes her hands in his. “Guinevere,” he says, looking up at her, “can Du ever forgive me?” There are tears just forming in his eyes.
    She looks down at him. His hands are so warm in hers, his face so earnest in its pain and remorse. Tears slip from her own eyes and roll down her cheeks as she whispers hoarsely, “There is nothing to forgive, Arthur.”
    He grabs her around the waist in a tight hug, pressing his head into her stomach. He is still on his knees. She holds his head against her tenderly, tears now streaming down her cheeks.
    He leans back and looks up at her, his own eyes bleary. He clears his throat and wipes his face with the back of his hand.
    “I have something that belongs to you,” he says. He pulls her engagement ring from his pocket and places it back on her finger. Gwen gasps, having thought it forever lost.
    “Where did you…?”
    “I… found it in the forest.”
    “Morgana ripped it from my neck,” she tells him. He scowls furiously.
    “Arthur, never mind,” she says, pulling him to his feet. “It’s back now.”
    “So are you. Back where Du belong,” he says, pulling her to him and Küssen her passionately. He pours all the emotions he’d been bottling up into this kiss, making Guinevere’s head swim. She returns in kind, however, her own tongue rising to meet his, stroking, prodding, as his hands caress her back, up under her hair to her neck. He holds her as close as he can, never wanting to ever let her go.