Sacrifice

King Calum

It was many years in the future, more grey hair than blond, Camelot had become Albion and magical and mundane lived side by side as equals. Arthur knew his time would be soon. He leant against the window and asked a servant to bring his son, who had proven a worthy king on Albion's throne. His voice was old and strained from use and he lent on a stick, which only partly made up for the crippling battle wound he'd copped just a little while past his prime. Even if he wasn't as old as his father had been when he was killed, and his knights barely retired, the king's heart and soul had been torn apart when his brother sacrificed himself, and he'd felt it spread like an illness ever since.

"My boy, my time has come." Arthur raised a shaking hand and rested it on his son's shoulder.

"You have proven to be a worthy king and I know you will do proud by both me and your kingdom. Please," he said, once proud voice cracking with age. "Gather the others."

His son ran, getting the remaining two knights of the original round table, and Guinevere from the town. They surrounded the bed where their king now lay, body frail and soul broken from that time so long ago and bowed their heads in respect for the warrior he once was, and the fighting spirit which still burnt like a flame deep in his heart.

No words needed to be said, just silent support and camaraderie  as they bit back tears, remembering the king with who they had been through thick and thin. Gwen sobbed into his shoulder.

Arthur looked up at his knights, dull eyes sparking slightly in long forgotten humour.

"Into the mouth of hell and back, right my brothers?" The two knights choked on their tears and their eyes watered as they brought a hand to their heart.

"To hell and back, my king." They all reminisced old times remembering the noble knight, remembering the black Smith and the tavern lover, they remembered the Druid boy who betrayed them and finally the warlock who sacrificed his life. Arthur picked up his walking stick and untied the red neckerchief from the end, a small smile coming onto his face.

"Do you think, do you think I'll see him again." Nobody answered, trapped in memories of their own of the mouthy servant who changed every single one of their lives at least a little, who made their days a little brighter. The knights remembered the servant who refused to not come anywhere with his king, armour or no, Gwen remembered the gutsy farm boy so long ago who indirectly threatened the prince of Camelot using magic.

I could take you apart in one blow
I could take you apart with less than that

The old king's breathing became erratic and his chest rose and fell in panicked huffs, he hacked and coughed as his body took in too much air. He had a moment of calm, a small smile came across his features.

"Late again are we Merlin." And if the onlookers listened really hard, they would have heard the spirits reply.

"Do you have any idea how big this castle is you pompous prat." Before the two ghosts clasped arms as equals and walked to the next life.

As it was, they only saw the spirits laughing, arms around each other's shoulders as they walked to Avalon and the life beyond.

The knights wiped away tears as they recognised their little brother and their king happy again, two halves of the same coin joined now and forever.

"Was, was that Merlin?" King Calum Pendragon asked, a little in awe of the warlock who changed his world.

"Yes," Percival answered, his voice gruff and low.

"I dare say," Leon started.

"I dare say he never left."