When albion needs it most

Chapter 1

Merlin P.O.V

Merlin was use to grief. He often thought no one grieved as much as him. He had pushed so many bodies of his friends into the waters of the lake of Avalon. He had seen the death of people he cared for all around him. William, Freya, Lancelot, and even his own father. But burying them was nothing compared to the pain of burying Arthur.

Merlin's eyes glowed as he pushed the boat into the water. He watched his friend disappear into the horizon, no longer holding in the tears. He cried so much he could barely see his departing friend. He frantically whipped his eyes, wanting to see as much as Arthur as he could until it was too late, until his body had reached the horizon. Even then Merlin stayed by the lake, looking at the direction the boat had floated away. The sky went dark and the sorcerer still didn't move. There were no more tears falling down his face as he had cried them all, but still he wept.

Arthur was gone. Arthur was gone. Arthur was gone. The pain of his failure weighed more on his shoulders than his impossible destiny had ever done. Merlin had saved the King more times than he can count. He had been by his side, protecting him from the numerous dangerous possibilities he faced on a daily basis. He had been there to save Arthur from all life threatening situations, all but once. Once he failed to be there. Once he couldn't use his magic to protect him. Once was all it took for destiny to take Arthur way from him.

The words of the Great Dragon resonated in his mind. What Arthur had accomplish, what Merlin had help him accomplish would become legend for the centuries to come. Thousand would hear about Camelot and Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king.

Once and future king! He would come back, Merlin realized. When Albion would need it most, Arthur would rise again. And when he did, Merlin was going to be by his side. That is what he had decided. When Arthur would come back, Merlin would be waiting, ready to serve him again, as his destiny was. Until then, he would wait for him by the side of this lake.

The sorcerer had to return to Camelot and ready his things for his new life of waiting by the side of Avalon. He would be ready for the King when we would rise once more. As the sun reached great height in the sky, Merlin walked towards the city walls.

Merlin looked upon the gates of Camelot. He remembered how he was the first time he entered into the citadel. He was young and afraid, completely lost. His mother had sent him to go live with Gaius. She was obviously growing worried for her son. Who wouldn't? For a boy such as Merlin to be discovering his powers under the reign of Uther was a truly terrifying thing. Merlin remembers that he used to be afraid of himself, wondering why he was alive to start with. He didn't know why he had magic nor what he had to do with it. He was purposeless and it hurt him. He once told Gaius that without answers, he didn't know if he even wanted to live such a life.

But all that had changed when he met Arthur. Suddenly Merlin knew his destiny. He had reason, purpose. Arthur had been an arse and had made his life a lot more complicated, but he had made it worthwhile and Merlin would forever be grateful for Arthur's presence in his life.

And now Merlin was returning to the castle of Camelot without Arthur, without that person who made it all better. Not only that, he had to be the one to tell the kingdom about his failure.

He entered the main hall. As soon as the doors open, a crowd of worried knight peaked their head and tried to see if their hopes would be rewarded. Their mutters felt to silence as they saw only one figure returning. "Let me pass" a worried voice cried out with hope. Merlin couldn't face Guinevere. As she looked upon him, he shook his head. "I'm sorry" he mouthed as he lazily left the grieving crowd. He could hear the cries of Guinevere in the distance as he walked towards Gaius' chambers. The old man almost ripped open the door as he felt Merlin arrive. Breath let him as he saw Merlin's defeated expression. The young man broke in tears, once more torn by the pain of failing to bring his Lord back home. His legs gave up as he felt to the ground and wept. Gaius patted his back, unsure how to bring comfort the warlock.