Part 1: link


    “Merlin?” Gwen gasps, blinking her eyes and wiping her face.
    “I’m… I’m sorry, Gwen,” he says, his voice soft, almost inaudible.
    She stands and walks to him. “Sorry? You’re sorry?” she exclaims. “You were supposed to protect him! Du were supposed to take care of him, make him better!” she shouts, tears starting anew, and she realizes she is pummeling his thin chest with her clenched fists.
    “You were supposed to bring him Home to me!” she sobs, pounding him mercilessly.
    He makes no Bewegen to stop her, as he knows he deserves every blow he receives. Finally she collapses against him, and he brings his arms around her, holding her as she weeps against his chest.
    “Sorry,” she mumbles, resting her forehead against him now.
    “No, Du have nothing to apologize for, Gwen,” Merlin says. “I failed you, and I do not deserve your forgiveness.”
    “You already have it, Merlin,” she says, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him in a tight hug.
    “Thank you,” he breathes, his rigid body melting as he squeezes her in return, his own tears falling onto the oben, nach oben of her head.
    Merlin’s hands rest on her back, holding her gently. “Gwen?” he asks, sounding just slightly startled Von something.
    “You’re taller than Arthur,” she notes absently, pulling back and looking up at him. His eyes are as red-rimmed and bleary as hers. Merlin moves his hand then, around to her stomach.
    “There is life within you,” he whispers, his voice awe-struck. “I can feel it.”
    “You sound surprised,” she says dumbly.
    “I’m surprised that I can tell,” he blinks down at her, dropping his hand.
    “I was surprised as hell that I am at all,” she answers, walking to the tabelle and sitting.
    “Timing, hey?” Merlin sits down beside her at the table. There is a knock at the door.
    “Yes?” Gwen calls, her voice a sigh.
    The door creaks open. “My lady, will Du be taking lunch in – Merlin!” the serving girl gasps, seeing Merlin sitting there with the queen.
    He waves, but says nothing.
    “Yes, please bring lunch for both myself and Merlin, here, Lily, thank you,” Gwen answers.
    “Yes, my lady.”
    “Lily?” Gwen calls after her, staying her. “One moment.” She turns to Merlin. “Who knows Du are in Camelot?”
    “No one,” he answers, giving her a tight look indicating that is not looking for a reunion at this time with anyone other than her.
    “Lily, tell only Sir Leon of Merlin’s presence here, and impress upon him that he is to keep the news to himself. And tell him I wish to remain undisturbed. I have much to discuss with Merlin and I do not wish to be interrupted.”
    “Yes, my lady,” Lily bobs another curtsey and scurries away.
    “Gwen…” Merlin protests.
    “Merlin,” Gwen turns back to him, “I want to know. I need to know.”
    “I know,” he answers, his voice breaking.
    “So talk.”

xXx

    By the time Merlin finishes the tale, they are both crying and their Essen is hardly touched.
    “Gwen,” Merlin sniffs, “please eat. For the baby, Du need to eat.”
    Gwen sullenly stabs a green bohne and puts it in her mouth, finding it cold. “Cold,” she grumbles. “Where is Arthur now?”
    “Avalon,” Merlin says. “It is a place of deep, ancient magic. It is written that he will return when Camelot needs him most.”
    “Where is that written?”
    “Where is anything written, Gwen?” Merlin sighs, gesturing vaguely. “So many things are prefaced with ‘it is written,’ but no one ever sees that writing.”
    Gwen almost laughs at him. “When Camelot needs him most, hmm? What about his wife, bearing his child? Does that count for nothing?”
    Merlin sighs and squeezes her hand. “Gwen, I came back for two reasons. The first was to see Du and face you, like a man, and own up to my failure,” he sighs, still tremendously grieved Von the loss of Arthur.
    “And the other?”
    “I have something for you,” he says, releasing her hand and reaching into his satchel.
    “When I left Camelot, when I didn’t accompany Arthur to Camlann, it was because Morgana had found a creature that robbed me of my magic, rendering me unable to help him,” he says, digging into the bag.
    “Did Morgana know about you?”
    “Mordred told her. After he left here, he fled to her side, blinded Von his own grief and fury.”
    “He could not see what Kara had become,” Gwen says, shaking her head sadly.
    “Love will do that,” Merlin says absently, still digging. “Morgana had been searching for ‘Emrys’ for years. Mordred was able to solve that mystery for her.”
    “He knew? Mordred knew?”
    “Of course he did. He was a Druid, Gwen, and he had magic himself. But that is another tale for another time,” Merlin says. He has something in his hand now, something small, but Gwen cannot see it. He is not ready to reveal it yet.
    “Anyway, Gwaine accompanied me to the mouth of a cave leading to a place I had been to once before, sagte to be the Quelle of all magic. I intended to go there to restore my gift.”
    “Obviously it worked,” Gwen says, smiling.
    “Yes. It was never really gone, in fact. But I did have help,” he smiles wistfully.
    “Who helped you?”
    “My father.”
    “I thought Du didn’t know your father,” Gwen furrows her brows.
    “Remember the dragonlord Arthur and I searched for?”
    “Yes, he died, if I recall.”
    “He was my father. I did not know until just before Arthur and I set out.”
    “I am sorry, Merlin. To finally meet him, only to lose him… that must have been heartbreaking.”
    “It was. He appeared to me in this place, though, and helped me find my way again. Du would have liked him very much, Gwen. He was wise and gentle, like you,” Merlin sighs sadly.
    “What is this place called?” she asks.
    “They call it the Crystal Cave. It is filled with large crystals, and if Du gaze into them Du will see many things. Past, present, possible futures: things that may oder may not come to pass.”
    “Oh, my.”
    “It is both fascinating and dangerous. A person could get Lost entirely down there, gazing into the crystals.”
    “I can imagine.”
    He opens his hand, and there is a small crystal sitting on his palm. “This is but a tiny crystal from that cave. I would like Du to have it,” he says.
    “I… I couldn’t…”
    “It is too small to be of any harm to you, Gwen, I promise. I would never give Du anything that would hurt you,” he whispers.
    “I know that, but… to possess a magical item like this…”
    “So Du plan on keeping the ban on magic?” he asks, closing his hand around the crystal again.
    “No,” she sighs. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. I’m going to lift it. I think. It seems… right that I should do this.”
    “It is. Remember that magic itself is not evil, Gwen, only people can be evil.”
    “I know that.”
    “So Du will accept my gift?”
    “Yes, Merlin, I will.”
    Merlin stares down at his closed fist, lifting it to his lips for a moment and closing his eyes. He whispers a word against his fingers and Gwen watches, transfixed, as his eyes flash gold.
    Merlin opens his palm again, and the crystal is wrapped in silver filigree and hanging from a silver chain. He stands and affixes it around Gwen’s neck, and she lifts her hair over it. It settles against her skin, the metal cool and oddly comforting against her neck.
    “Do not take it off,” Merlin says. “Not to sleep, not to bathe. This crystal… how can I say this to not put Du off? It wants to be with you.”
    Gwen’s hand closes over it where it is nestled against her bosom, and she is surprised to find that the crystal is warm. She nods, saying nothing. It is an odd request, but somehow I feel… better… with it on. My herz feels a fraction lighter.
    “The silver will not tarnish; the chain will not accidentally strangle Du in your sleep,” he finishes.
    Merlin squeezes her shoulder comfortingly, and picks up his satchel.
    “You’re going?” she asks, turning.
    “I cannot stay, Gwen. Not now. Perhaps not ever. I don’t know yet.”
    Without Arthur, he has no direction, she realizes. “Please tell me Du will come back, Merlin, even if not permanently. I’ve Lost Arthur forever, I cannot lose Du as well,” she pleads, tears in her eyes.
    “I’ll be around,” he promises, wiping her tears away. She hugs him tightly, her head against his chest. “You can do this, Gwen,” he whispers. “You will bring Camelot to its glory. Finish Arthur’s work.”
    She leans up and kisses his cheek. “Thank you, Merlin. I Liebe you, and so did Arthur. Remember that.”
    “I know, Gwen. I will never be far away,” he promises. He sniffs once, and Gwen sees a tear escape from his eye just before he sweeps from the room.

xXx

    “Guinevere.” The voice is distant, but clear as a bell.
    “Guinevere.”
    Queen Guinevere turns in her sleep, her hands reaching out for someone who is no longer there. They close around his kissen and draw it to her chest.
    “Guinevere,” the voice is louder, Mehr insistent.
    Gwen is walking in an empty, bare white room, approaching a door.
    “Open the door, my love.”
    She reaches out and places her palm flat on the wood. It is warm, like her crystal, and the barest touch swings it open.
    Gwen steps forward, through the open door, blinking as her eyes adjust to the dim light beyond. There is a figure before her.
    “Arthur…” she breathes. She wants to rush to him, into his arms, to squeeze him to her and never let go again, but she finds she is rooted to the spot.
    “Guinevere,” he steps closer, smiling. He looks beautiful and whole, clad in his white tunic and black trousers, his gürtel hanging at his hips. No heavy and harsh chainmail, no restrictive armor. Not even a sword. Just Arthur, as she loved him best: soft; accessible.
    “Is this a dream?” she finally says.
    “Yes and no,” he shrugs, his eyes dropping to the crystal hanging at her cleavage.
    “Merlin,” she guesses, and Arthur nods.
    “That crystal,” he nods at it, “that crystal was born when I landed here, in Avalon.”
    “This is Avalon?” Gwen looks around, frowning, unimpressed.
    “This is a gateway, Guinevere,” he says. “Your world is back there, through that door,” he points at the door through which she entered, the light pouring in from it their only light source.
    She glances back at it a moment. “Where is your door?”
    “You cannot see it,” he says, looking over his left shoulder. “To keep Du from following me through, I guess.”
    “But I would like to follow Du through it,” Gwen says, taking a step closer.
    “No, Guinevere,” he says sadly, holding his hand up. “It’s not yet your time.”
    “Can Du follow me back, then?”
    “No. It’s not yet my time.”
    “You sound like Merlin,” she says suddenly, squinting at him.
    Arthur laughs. “I have learned a lot since I’ve been here. And Du can’t follow me into Avalon, my love. Not yet.”
    “But one day?”
    “Yes, one day. Just not now. Definitely not now,” he says, raising his eyebrows at her.
    “You know,” she whispers.
    “Of course I know,” he says simply. “I put him there, didn’t I?” he grins.
    “Him?” she gasps, her hands on her stomach.
    “Him,” Arthur nods, the pride evident on his face. “Guinevere, I’m sorry,” he says, his face falling.
    “For getting me pregnant?” she puzzles.
    “For dying on you,” he sighs. “I know… I know it was always your greatest fear, every time I went to battle oder out on a quest oder even a hunting trip.”
    “You did what Du had to do for your kingdom,” she whispers, looking down, ashamed at the selfishness of her grief.
    “My kingdom is nothing without my queen,” he tells her. “Merlin blames himself for my death, I know this now. But what he does not know is that I do not blame him, I blame myself.”
    “I blame Morgana,” Gwen says. “It was her hand that guided Mordred’s, it was she…”
    “My hand should have been the one to guide Mordred’s!” Arthur interrupts. “I failed him.”
    “No, Arthur, he failed you. He was blinded, he could not see what was right in front of him.”
    “Neither could I,” Arthur says quietly. “Merlin. All those years,” he chuckles suddenly. “It’s almost funny. Well, it would be funny if I didn’t come off looking like a blind idiot.”
    “You are being too hard on yourself, Arthur,” Gwen says.
    “Oh? What did Du say when he told you?”
    “He did not tell me,” she admits.
    “Gaius, then?”
    “Not exactly. I kind of… drew the conclusion myself based on Kürzlich events and some evasive Kommentare from Gaius.”
    “You see? This is what I mean. This is why Du must go back. Guinevere, Du are smarter than I ever could have been. Du are able to see what is in front of Du for what it is. It is one of the many reasons I Liebe Du so much,” he sighs.
    “I always knew Merlin was special,” she says quietly. “I just had no idea how special.”
    “None of us did. Except perhaps Gaius.”
    “I’ve missed you,” Gwen says suddenly.
    “And I, you,” he answers, smiling, remembering another time when these words were exchanged between them, bittersweet and passionate. Only this time there is no narrow cot, no bandaged ribs, no desperate embrace. This time they stand, face to face, gazing at one another, afraid to move.
    “But I am always with you, my love,” he adds, pointing to the crystal again. “As I said, that small shard was born in the cave when I came here. It called to Merlin, told him to come retrieve it.”
    “Merlin sagte that… it wanted to be with me,” she whispers.
    “Yes,” Arthur says, “it does. I do. That crystal is my heart, and it is meant to rest beside yours, always.”
    Gwen feels tears wetting her cheeks now. “Merlin told me not to take it off, ever. And I won’t, I promise.”
    “Thank you,” he breathes, sounding strangely relieved.
    “I don’t actually think that I could if I wanted to,” she says, fingering the chain, finding no clasp.
    “Tricky wizard,” Arthur mumbles, smirking. “Is… is he all right?”
    “I don’t know. I think he feels Lost right now. We all do, to varying degrees. He’s devoted his life to you, Arthur, and now he has no direction, no purpose.”
    “Tell him I’m sorry,” Arthur frowns.
    “He’s gone,” Gwen whispers.
    “He left?” Arthur is incredulous.
    “Not forever,” she soothes, knowing he’s upset not because Merlin left, but because he left her alone.
    Arthur looks over his shoulder and scowls. “It’s time, Guinevere. Du have to go back.”
    “Already?”
    “Yes, it is nearly sunrise. Du have a kingdom to run, my love.”
    “I will finish your work, Arthur,” she promises.
    “I know Du will. And make sure Du eat,” he adds. “I want my baby to be healthy.”
    “Still giving orders,” she sighs.
    “I Liebe you,” he tells her, and she notices he is fading, his color, less vibrant, his lines, less defined.
    “I Liebe you, Arthur,” she says, “with all my heart.”
    “With all my heart,” he repeats, and she turns and walks back through the door, into the whiteness.

Part 3: link