The year: 921

The Lake Avalon,
One hundred miles West of Camelot,
Albion

[Merlin's POV]

Arthur Pendragon, my king, and best friend, had died despite my best efforts to save him. By choosing to trust Akurra- the lying serpent which suffered from a misconception that it was a dragon- I had lost the man I was destined to protect.

Akurra's last words, 'All you have to do is wait, lad. Arthur shall rise again. Keep your chin up. I will be back before you know it,' echoed in my mind for the millionth time, and I tightened my grip over the hilt of my sword.

"Please don't do it!" begged the man sprawled on the ground as the tip of my sword dug into the back of his neck.

Smirking, I let go of the sword and backed away. A snap of my fingers lifted it, making it hang midair. It gave the one who had attacked me from behind, intending to land a killing blow to my spine, a chance to turn. As we came face to face, I snapped my fingers again, and my sword aimed for his throat, but before I could decapitate his head, something about his eyes stopped me just before the sword could do any damage.

His eyes widened; his lips fell open.

I squatted next to him, and as the color drained from his face, I asked, "I am guessing the one who hired you to kill me didn't tell you who your target was, did they?"

This close, I saw what I had missed earlier. My opponent was barely of age.

Had Morgana truly stooped so low as to send a child to take me down!?

The boy gulped. He shouldn't have. The movement caused the tip of the sword to dig into his neck; it made him wince and side-eye me.

"You are not very smart," I observed; running my eyes over his broad frame, I demanded, "How old are you, lad?"

When the boy continued to stare, I snapped my fingers. The sword moved off and away from its target and laid itself next to my feet.

His curious eyes turned into round saucers. "What... how... who... " He trailed off and caught my dark eyes with his hazel ones, realization dawning in them. "You are Merlin!"

Disbelief and awe danced on his young countenance.

Arthur had looked at me the same way when he had finally realized that the one who followed him like a shadow for more than half his life was a sorcerer. A powerful one at that!

My heart clenched. Sorrow crept into my soul through the cracks that Arthur's demise had left. "Yes. I am, lad." Leaving an exasperated sigh, I gestured to him to stand.

Without taking his eyes off my person, he complied. "A.. are you going to kill me?" he asked in a small, unsure voice.

"What do you think?"

My query made him stiffen up. He fell to his knees. "Please don't kill me. I promise I will mend my ways and do as my mother asks from now on."

Closing the distance, I asked, "Who sent you?"

Tears rolled down his ruddy cheeks. "I don't know. Some men came to our village and showed us a picture of the pendant you are wearing around your neck and offered a reward of a hundred gold coins to the one who brought it to them," he spoke softly, pointing at my amulet.

I nodded. Morgana was not one to resort to such underhanded tricks. It had to be someone else. But who?

"Please, Sire, I am my family's only breadwinner. My father lost his life in the battle of Camlann. I have three mouths to feed. If I die they-"

"I won't kill you." I interrupted, feeling somewhat offended. "Lad, I know these are desperate times, but turning to theft or worse...murder," I stressed, "to earn a few coins will leave your soul tainted. Trust me, you don't want that."

The youth nodded.

Giving him a once over, I asked, "Whose blood are you?"

The boy replied by taking off the chain hidden under his gray robes and handing it to me.

My fingers closed over the pendent, and my heart bled. "You are Gawain's son!?"

The hazel-eyed boy bobbed his head. Now that I was in the know, I could see the family resemblance.

A fresh bout of tears escaped his eyes. "I am Gwain, his eldest. Sorry, Sire. If I had known it was you, I would have spat in their face when they approached me."

The information made the embers of revenge burn brighter in my heart. I glanced at Gwain. No wonder I mistook the boy for a man. His father was one of the strongest, brawniest knights of Arthur's round table. A simpleton, Gawain had served Arthur till his last breath.

Holding my tears at bay, I handed him back his family crest; in silence, I dressed his wounds and instructed him to go to Camelot. "Show your crest to our queen. She will help you, I promise."

As the boy fell away from my line of sight, my thoughts returned to Akurra again. Letting the ancient vermilion creature go without placing at least a tracking spell on him or getting some concrete information about what had led to Arthur's death made me feel like a fool.

I am sorry, Arthur.

Cursing my useless existence, for I had failed my king, I wrapped my fingers over the cold metal of my ancestral amulet.

After sending Arthur off into the Lake of Avalon, I couldn't return to Camelot. I was aware that Arthur's widow and my dear friend, Queen Guinevere, was waiting for me. With her husband dead, she looked to me, Arthur's confidant, for guidance and support. Yet, I stayed put by Lake Avalon.

Two days ago, Sir Bedivere had come with news that King Cenred of Essetir- that bloody hypocrite- had captured a few of our knights. Luckily, Arnica, my trusty eagle, my eyes in the sky, had taken care of the situation for me by dropping a concealment potion I had strapped around her claw right at the mouth of the prison.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I reminisced about how Arnica had used her mighty wingspan to confuse the guards that kept watch outside the prison and scared the living daylights out of them before proceeding to snatch the prison keys and dropping them at our men's feet.

Arthur, you would have loved to see it in action.

Even though I had sent Morgana, Arthur's half-sister and one of my fiercest foes, to her grave not long ago, I had heard rumors that made me believe otherwise.

If I was to believe the news relied by our spies stationed in the druid village, Yokr, on the east of Essetir, someone who looked like Morgana had been spotted leaving Essetir on a horse accompanied by no less than a battalion of a thousand soldiers.

It made me think that perhaps it was time for me to return to Camelot, but I was waiting for a sign.

I flung a flattened pebble at the lake and watched it bounce on its crystalline surface, kissing it and creating ripples before sinking to the bottom of Avalon.

The now-familiar ache returned to my chest, and even though I knew better not to use the amulet for personal gain, I closed my eyes and commanded it to take me back to another, happier time.

A moment later, I stood on the banks of the same lake, watching seventeen-year-old Arthur and me bantering while waiting for the hunting party to find us and escort us back to Camelot.

'Merlin, that's not how you do it, dummy! Watch and learn from the master!' Arthur said, snatching the pebble from my younger self.

As the rock made a 'plop' sound and sank to the bottom of the lake, I bit back a laugh just like the younger me was doing.

'Thank you, your Majesty. I feel enlightened now that you have taught me how not to bounce a pebble over water.' The Merlin from my past rolled his eyes and earned a slap on the back of his head.

'Ouch! The back of the head is an important part of our anatomy, Arthur. It's a different matter that you don't use it. I, however, rely on my mind; I can't serve you if your constant blows render me stupid, can I?'

Arthur smiled, royal and self-important. 'Well, if you can stop being sarcastic and start treating me like your superior, I think you will find I am a compassionate man and an excellent companion.'

'Yes, you are right, my lord. I will be more careful with my words the next time I am saving your ass.'

I can't believe there was a time we spoke so casually, I thought to myself as my eyes returned to Arthur.

'Merlin, you have got it all wrong, my friend. I admit that you are rather good with medicines, and you know your history well, but I, Arthur Pendragon, am the one who keeps saving your delicate ass.'

I closed my eyes; the memory dissolved.

Arthur, you grit! Why didn't you listen when I advised you to lift the ban on magic? Why did you not let others lead, for once? Why did you not wait for me to return to your side before...

I sighed. It seemed that this was all I had been doing since Arthur's heart stopped beating. It was like the brat with the heart of gold had taken the warmth of the sun with him.

Had it been only fifteen days since I had smiled at Arthur..only fifteen days since I had hoped that Arthur would recover from his injuries?

These days, every time I closed my eyes, Arthur's broken, poisoned body lying helplessly in the middle of the battlefield assaulted me.

My mind wandered to that moment again.

'Merlin, are you...are you crying?' Arthur asked, smiling through his pain.

'No. It was a piece of hay. See.' I watched myself lie.

'It's a battlefield, Merlin. There's no hay here. Why don't you admit it? You have grown attached to me. You care about me.' My best friend challenged me. Even in this state, he was looking to banter with me. It was for my sake more than his.

'In your dreams, my lord. Now, hold still, and let me sterilize your wound.'

Arthur's cold hands cupped mine. The spark was almost gone from his blue eyes, 'Merlin, I don't know if this is the end, but if it is-'

'It's not!' I shook my head and tried to pull my hand away, but Arthur held on. 'Still, there is something I need to get off my chest.'

'Save your breath, my lord.' I recalled how I was struggling to keep myself from breaking down.

'Please, Merlin.' Arthur squeezed my hand, and I conceeded, 'Yes, my lord.'

'If I die-'

'I won't let you die, Arthur.' I shook my head and moved a lock of his blond hair away from his forehead.

'My friend, I know you have magic, but that too has its limits. All I need now, is for you to stay the same.' Arthur searched my eyes. 'Can you promise me that?'

I nodded, 'I promise.'

Arthur smiled. That was the last time his eyes had shone.

I closed my eyes; when I opened them, I was once again a hopeless man.

Arthur was a handsome man. Headstrong and loyal to the core. However, all who knew him saw a side that no one else was privy to; a side that loved to banter, laugh and be one with the gang.

No wonder he created the round table. Everyone was equal, and every voice was heard. I never sat at the round table. My place was by Arthur's side, looking at Camelot over his shoulder, protecting them from shadows that lurked both within Camelot and outside it.

Two years ago, after he had taken the throne, I asked him his views on magic. I still remember how the conversation had gone.

Lifting a brow and fixing me with a curious gaze, he had tried to gauge my reasons for asking him such a controversial question. After all, he was not ruthless like Uther, and the citizens had hoped that with Arthur ascending the throne, magic would find a home in Camelot again.

When he couldn't figure me out, he said, 'Merlin, magic took my mother's life. The druids killed my father. If you were in my position, would you hate the druids and magic users?'

Instead of answering, I asked another question, 'Arthur, do you hate magic?'

Shaking his head and patting my shoulder with a soft smile gracing his lips, he replied, 'No. I believe there is good in everyone and everything. I think magic can do good in the hands of those who want to serve the people.'

I gulped thickly. The ones who suffered the most were not the ones who were gone but the ones who were left behind; I was sure of it now.

I patted my chest. It was time to give myself a pep-talk. Ignoring the wetness on my cheek, I thought of what Arthur might have said to me. The brat probably would have kicked my ass and yelled, "It's been a fortnight, Merlin. It's time you got your lazy bottom off the ground and made yourself useful. Why don't you just admit to yourself that Akurra has fled? After the lies he told you, lies that got me killed, you would be a fool to believe that darn serpent. Do you really think he will return and face your wrath?"

I miss you, Arthur. I even miss your boring speeches about loyalty and equality... and all the other righteous things you held close to your heart. Can you believe it?

I wiped the tears that had slid down my cheeks without warning and dusted my pants before making up my mind to go and hunt down Akurra in the high mountains of Esshwood.

The day I was introduced to Arthur was also the day I met the serpent for the first time. Uther, Arthur's father and the then king of Camelot, was holding the mammoth serpent captive in an underground prison on the grounds of the Pentagon castle.

The recollection made my blood boil. Had the serpent always known that things would end this way? I couldn't wait any longer. "I will return to Camelot, but not before getting details of Arthur's reincarnation; if it continues to talk in riddles, I will kill it for lying to me. Come what may, I will not return home empty-handed." I vowed, and with determination fueling my person, I set off toward Esshwood.

My plans went south almost immediately. I had barely covered a mile when I bumped into Morgana.

"Merlin, you look paler than the day you sent my brother off into Avalon, but it's good to see you finally gathered enough courage to move on with your life. Tell me, Merlin, how does it feel to lose, to fail to protect the one you had vowed to serve your whole life?" She asked, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers.

"Morgana, what-"

My question was cut short when, without warning, she pointed her index finger at me and cast a spell, bringing an elm tree down on me.

Managing to avoid being crushed by the tree by a hair's breadth, I glared at her. As expected, she had her now-trademark evil smirk plastered on her face. I wanted to hate her for what she had become, yet with her long dark tresses flared over her slender shoulders, she looked as radiant as the day I had seen her last.

"You look well, Morgana. I guess the killing curse couldn't keep you down. How did you survive?"

After the battle of Camlann, where Mordred- the only one who knew my real identity apart from Lancelot, my dearest friend, and Arthur's knight- mortally wounded Arthur, Morgana had laid siege on Camelot and wreaked havoc on innocent citizens.

I couldn't leave Arthur's side. I was taking him to Lake Avalon. I knew the elves that dwelled in its depths knew ancient magic that could bring someone back from the brink of death.

Sir Bedivere had told me that Morganaa had taken down half the city before realizing I wasn't there. She had guessed my intention and intercepted me at the enchanted forest of Brécheliant. Where, after an anticlimactic back and forth of spells, I had brought her down with a killing curse. I regretted my move instantly. But the deed was done. There was no looking back.

Would I have made the same choice knowing I would lose Arthur anyway? Probably not.

Morgana possessed magic that rivaled mine. Now, more than ever, we needed to work together to bring peace to Camelot. She had grown up with Arthur and called Camelot home longer than I had. Was it farfetched to think that she cared about it still?

'Probably,' a small voice from inside me answered. I was sure that Morgana cared about the place where she had spent her youth. Her recent actions, however, spoke of the hatred it invoked in her now.

Morgana snickered, "Awe, and here I was, hoping you regretted your actions and would welcome me with open arms." Her dark flowing robes hugged her bosom and waist like serpents, accentuating her perfect curves. She stepped towards me and pouted, reminding me of a time she depended on me like Arthur had, albeit for a completely different reason.

Long ago, when Morgana roamed the halls of the castle she called hers, I had seen her risk her life for a nobody just because she believed Uther, the then king, had judged too harshly. Was that woman, that innocent, compassionate soul, still there? Or had she died when a wicked twist of fate had made me poison her for a crime I believed she would commit somewhere down the line?

Betraying Morgana was the biggest mistake of my life. If I could go back and change my actions, maybe Arthur would still be alive. Alas, even I, the greatest sorcerer of all time, was incapable of it.

"Merlin, aren't you going to answer me? Do you think now that Arthur is gone, you can make a move on Guinevere? I know you care about her. Do you want to rule Camelot, Merlin? I know that the knights love you."

Her words were like daggers, piercing my heart, reminding me of what Camelot had lost. "Shut up, Morgana. Guin is like a sister to me, and you know that I have never desired the throne."

Morgana threw her head back and let loose a sinister, high-pitched laugh, which stopped abruptly. She quirked her brow and asked, "Then what is it that you desire, Merlin?"

"All I have ever wanted was to serve Arthur."

Morgana's face darkened. She twirled a lock of her dark, thick mane between her fingers again and smirked as if my pain brought her pleasure. "My poor, unfortunate brother is dead, Merlin. All the magic in the world can't bring him back."

I knew her words to be true. Still, knowing something and believing in it were two completely different things. "Arthur shall rise again." I threw Akurra's words at her.

My former friend brought the back of her hand to her lips, muffling her giggles. "Says who? That serpent Uther kept chained under the castle?"

"How did you know!?" The amulet around my neck with the stone of Erer encased within its iron clasp grew hot, signaling that mortal danger was afoot. Ignoring it, I demanded, "How did you know!?"

She laughed as if possessed, then in a tone filled with mockery, she replied, "Akurra is dead."