Helloooo people!

(So this somehow became a character analysis (very last line and below to be specific. Oh well.) But this has to do the fact that I always wondered who the blazes would crown Arthur King of Albion? Geoffrey?

Golden Age AU! Set in the defining moment in which Arthur actually conquers all of Albion. Lots and lots of brotherly love ahead, you've been warned.

But most importantly this is birthday gift for one of the most beautiful human beings out there. Happy birthday dearest Oz! I love you so so much. I'm can't tell you how much I value you, your heart and your friendship.( and I know you're Fleetwood Mac trash just as much as I am.) *infinite hugs.* I LOVE YOU.

And the sun went down
It never seemed to rise
Ah but now you're here
With the light shining in your eyes

Now I know I can't lose
As long as you follow
I'm gonna win

(…)

Yes I can live today
If you give me tomorrow
As long as you follow

-As Long As You Follow by Fleetwood Mac

Give Me Tomorrow

"He felt he would have known the country, even without the light. He began to love the land under him with a fierce longing…He found that the loved it more than Guenevere, more than Lancelot…He could tell how the common people would feel about things before he asked them. He was their king.

But then again came the wave of sorrow over him, the thought of [Albion] when it woke. How few and pitifully few the ones who would be ready to maintain it!"

- T.H White. The Book of Merlyn.

Merlin lay on his small bed in the shade of the candlelight with the Sidhe staff at his feet and his eyes lifted towards the ceiling. Bandages covered his torso and arms where Morgana had struck him when she'd failed to strike Arthur. He seemed lost in thought but his eyes found Arthur's before the King placed a foot inside the tent and there was a light in them that made the night not as dark and the future not as horrid.

Arthur felt as if he could smile again.

"Arthur," he tried to sit up in the bed and the King rushed to place both of his hands on his dearest friend's shoulders, knowing that Merlin had grown old-as had he- but was still as idiotic as he'd always been.

"Don't move, you idiot." He admonished strongly and his voice held a hint of humor for the first time in many, many days. "What have I told you about not doing what Gaius ordered?"

Merlin's good hand gripped his own tightly where it rested, on the warlock's bandaged shoulder. Arthur thought back on the last time his friend had done that- right before the final and most decisive battle. The smile that had accompanied it, as well as Guinevere's kiss on his forehead, had stayed with him throughout it all in a way he had long ago learned not to question.

"You've won." Merlin said with a slightly hysterical laugh, as if he could not quite believe it even though he'd predicted it from the beginning. "You won, Arthur. You- you are now KING. The True King."

Numb as he was The True King could only nod with his head before sitting down wearily in a stool by Merlin's bedside, shifting his grip so that it was he who was holding Merlin's hand securely with his own. Then he hung his head, for there was nothing he could say.

Merlin didn't speak for a few moments; he only held Arthur's hand as firmly, noting where the blue-green veins were inflamed and the skin had began to wrinkle, scraping gently the remains of dry blood from those tired knuckles and waited patiently for his King to speak. But Arthur did not. He leaned forward until his golden head bowed and touched Merlin's hay mattress and there he stayed, unmoving.

Though Merlin could not see his beloved friend's face he felt his heart tremble at the sight before him. He hurriedly and painfully reached with his other hand to raise Arthur's chin from the sheets and towards him, wishing for the first time that he had not been injured so that he could give his weary friend a proper hug, those they never spoke about afterwards and that seemed to be so vital for the both of them.

Being as it was, though, bedridden and hurt and hardly able to sit, he could not. When Arthur's blue eyes finally met his own and his stiff fingers had left Arthur's stubbly chin to push back the blond hair away from his forehead, there was a new emotion in Arthur's noble features, one that he'd never seen before, impossible as that was.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking into those sky-blue eyes searchingly, "Tell me, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes lightened as if by an unseen power before he said, "Iseldir wants me to be crowned High King in the morrow, Merlin."

For a moment Merlin did not know what to say. He wondered why Arthur looked so out of sorts when he brought such great news- wonderful, amazing news,- and then frowned and scowled at his own confined state.

"No matter." he decided cheerfully after a second of thought, "I'll have to transport myself, bed and all, to the hill. That's where it'll be done, won't it? Maybe even put some wheels in a chair- I'm sure Gaius' wagon can do without them for a little while- and have Gwaine push me over there, what do you say? Or perhaps I'll only need my staff to walk over there myself- I do think the wound is healing rather quickly…"

"…Merlin." Arthur said, and his voice was so quiet and detached, so unlike Arthur's, that Merlin immediately ceased talking and fixed his gaze, hawk-like, upon his King. "Merlin, I don't want him to."

"What?" it seemed to Merlin as if the world had stopped its turning and the starless skies were suddenly under his feet. "Arthur, I- Why?"

"Let me finish." Arthur said staunchly, firmly, sounding every bit like the great King he was. "Iseldir wants to recite some verses before I hold the crown above my head. He said that I am the noblest man he knows of and that, since I am King and there's no one above me, I should claim what's rightfully mine. My birthright, he said." Arthur sighed and placed a hand over his eyes. "But I don't want it to be like that."

"Arthur." Merlin said softly and uncovered Arthur's eyes gently with his fingers. "You mustn't think yourself unworthy. You are the Once and Future King. You know that. Iseldir is right. It is your birthright."

"Ah, but Merlin-" Arthur said with a spark of his old stubbornness and a hint of a laugh. "I had a man in mind. A great man, mind you. The bravest, noblest soul I've ever known."

Merlin looked at him with a deeply etched frown and Arthur had the sudden urge to flick him on the forehead for being such an idiot. But the warlock's wise eyes sparked with understanding before he had time to do it and a tired smile, the one he'd seen many times in those days, softened the solemn graveness of Merlin's features.

The warlock's fingers tightened on his Once and Future King's hand before he spoke. "I am honored, Arthur." And when he said the King's name he looked earnestly into his friend's eyes to let Arthur see everything that was still unspoken but alive in his heart. "But it will not do. I am your Court Sorcerer, not a King or a High Priest of the Old Religion-"

"You're Emrys….!"

"Be as it may," Merlin continued, and patted Arthur's knee clumsily with his bandaged hand. "I am still yours, Arthur. Don't you see? It is as good as if Leon was crowning you. We are all here to serve you. No one ranks above you, especially not me."

Arthur's blue eyes flickered with something indefinite but so very strong that Merlin, in that deep part of him that was Arthur's, felt the raw emotion as if it was his own.

"Iseldir said as much. But it's not fair," Arthur told him with a heaving sigh and absentmindedly maneuvered his hand around his dearest friend's so that he could place it over his brow once more and cover his eyes with it, as if to spare his soul the idiocy. "It's a bloody stupid thing to do, that's what it is. Any lumberjack could be decent enough to hold that crown. Just because I am King does not mean that I am deserving of crowning myself…!"

It was then that Merlin laughed, a sound that Arthur had not heard for many, many months of hardship and bloody feuds and he thought that, together with Guinevere's voice when she'd arrived only a week ago, it was the most wonderful thing he'd heard in a long time.

"You sound just like Gwaine."

"God help us," Arthur replied with a short laugh of his own. He marveled at the fact that they were joking again as they did when they were younger, when he'd thought those days were long gone in the face of such an ordeal. "As much as I loathe admitting it, he's right."

With the flickering candlelight Arthur could only just see Merlin's wise eyes fixed upon his, sharp and light as they had always been. But he needn't see to know that his friend's hand finding and tightening on his shoulder meant more than what any words could ever convey in their limited ways. Yet Merlin did use words but it was the way he said it what mattered,

"I'm so proud of you, Arthur." And there was an unearthly quality to his timbre that told the King everything.

He let go of Merlin's hand and carefully reached into his thick leathered vest to pull out the gleaming and sharp angled-

Merlin- 'idiot' Arthur thought fondly- almost wrenched his shoulder again when he caught sight of it.

"Arthur, that's Brutus' crown! You…."

"Iseldir gave it to me." Arthur said before Merlin could continue. "Apparently generations of druids have guarded it for centuries until this very day…" he trailed off. He couldn't quite believe it himself. "Or tomorrow, rather. We still have a few moments before the dawn."

He looked towards the opening of the tent as if to confirm the fact and he could gladly see that the dark skies were slowly taking celestial hues and the heat of the sun was softly beginning to warm the frigid nighttime air. There was still time.

Before Merlin's wide eyes he dropped to his tired knees and firmly closed his friend's fingers over the ancient metalwork , silencing Merlin's upcoming words with a look of his eyes that had not too long ago forced many generals and seasoned soldiers to their knees.

"We still have time." he said, and then the solemnity was gone and a quivering, teary laugh escaped him. "I know how it must be done and I will do it. But I want you, Merlin of Ealdor, my greatest friend and the man to whom I owe everything to make me deserving." He found he could not look away from Merlin's gaze; it was brighter than any star Arthur had ever seen. "Tell me, Merlin… In your eyes, am I ready?"

The King did not realize he was crying until he heard the soft sound of Brutus' crown hitting the grassy soil beneath them. Then Merlin's firm hands braced the sides of his face and light fingers brushed away the few tears that had escaped him in the midst of all the fear and anticipation and unbelief that were still waging war in his heart. He asked himself if he had done enough for his people, for the land that he loved as if it was an ancient and foretold part of him like Merlin, for the people that made his heart burn whenever he saw them- his people- the way Guinevere's mere presence often did.

"Arthur." His name was pronounced so reverently that the King felt not unlike a child. "You are. You are and you can't even see it….

Oh, and Arthur's eyes when Merlin said it! The light-colored hope that grew so tentatively in his gaze with a newfound stoutness of purpose, the absolute conviction that replaced the vacillating thoughts that made him unsure...Merlin thought he'd give anything for that look to stay forevermore.

When he could speak again the True King's eyes were alight like Merlin's.

"If you don't doubt me then I do not doubt myself."

Tears of joy and love rose in Merlin's eyes and, even as he smiled, he knew deep inside him that Arthur still needed something from him, so he inquired gently and tenderly, "What do you want me to say?"

Through closed eyelids Arthur could feel the sun rising above them all, there was a warmth and iridescence that belonged to the day and the day alone beginning to cover the hills and the mountains that were now his to govern and his to protect.

He opened his eyes to look into the eagerly awaiting ones of his best friend and Arthur, the Once and Future King, answered in a voice that was not his but rather the pure, low cadence of his soul.

"Say that you'll be here. You see the path that's before me, Merlin. Despite what they all may think I am only a man. I cannot do it alone. Say that you'll stay with me, until the end of time." (1)

'You shouldn't ask, Arthur." said Merlin, whose eyes were radiant with such courage and fondness that it was unnatural. No human being should have been able to love a man, a friend, a King so dearly. "You know I will be. Always."

Then Merlin obeyed his unspoken request and reached out to hold Arthur's face between his bandaged hands, tenderly titling both of their heads until their foreheads touched and their hearts beat in unison, attuned.

"You are Arthur," the wizard Emrys told the skies above him and the seas below him in such a soft whisper that only his soul-brother's heart heard him, "the King. You and you alone are the Once and Future King and the land of Albion knows you and salutes you. You are the golden Sun that rises to make warm the greenery and give hope to the weary. "

"…You are Arthur," he spoke next to the songbirds and to the trees, "the Brave. Arthur the warrior, that will usher an era of peace throughout Albion's great land. The Lion-heart. The Golden-made."

"You are Arthur," and here Merlin let out a soft laugh and smiled instinctually with Arthur. "My friend. The man that I admire and respect most in the world of the living and the prat whose heart is great-greater than any of the evils we have or will ever face."

Far away, somewhere above their heads, a bird sang joyfully to the life-giving star that had risen.

And Merlin opened his eyes and found that Arthur was already looking into his own, life and truth blazing inside them like never before.

"You are Arthur," Merlin said, to his King and him alone. "My soul.(3) And to you I swear that my heart will never stray from your side even if my presence one day should. My life is yours, as I swore once and now do again, and I lay my magic, my heart, my very being at your feet. You are Arthur, my soul, and to you I do promise to follow until my body lacks any breath. And now I have the honor of being the first one calling you by your true name, your eternal name, oh true and tender, oh my Liege and King!" (2)

Arthur, his heart swollen with love and light, gently nodded his head and with a rush of breath he blabbered, "Merlin." And it seemed that it was all he could say.

His warlock's eyes were bright and gold, not with magic, but with the light of the new sun that had risen high above Albion's green land.

"High King Arthur." Merlin said slowly, as if tasting every word in his mouth with a heavenly, blissful smile that was certainly ethereal. "May I?"

Arthur bowed his head over Excalibur's pommel when Merlin's graceful fingers closed upon Brutus' heavy crown but he never did feel the gentle weight of a steel circlet disarraying his hair.

Quite suddenly Merlin's arms clumsily embraced him wholly and tightly in a way he'd never been held before, like a mother must, he supposed, hold her dearly beloved child. (3)

"It is not that flimsy old thing what makes you." Merlin whispered fervently from a place above him and Arthur felt his greatest friend's chin rest in the crown of his head. "I never cared- I never saw….It is you, Arthur, you, my friend. You, crowned or not, the insufferable prat- my brother. Remember that. You are King, no matter when or how."

'Help me be the King you see, Merlin." Arthur whispered into the new morning.

Merlin did not answer him immediately and yet there was a certain urgency with which his injured arm tightened around his King's leather bound shoulders that told Arthur's soul he'd rendered his oldest and dearest friend speechless.

"You are," Merlin said at last and pressed his forehead against the High King of Albion's. "You are Arthur. That's all I ever saw, all that this land needs. Your heart, my dear Lord and King."

There, in the silence of their mutual understanding and perhaps knowing that Arthur could already hear the chanting druidic groups that had awakened, Merlin of Ealdor whispered very softly, "And, gods help me; it is the only thing that I am not willing to surrender completely for the sake of Albion's pleasant land."

"…In the future it will be your glorious doom to take up the burden and to enjoy the nobility of your proper name: so now I shall crave the privilege to be the first of your subjects to address you with it- as my dear Liege Lord, King Arthur."

- Merlin.

T.H White, the Sword in the Stone.

(1) "Will you stay with me for a long time?" asked the Wart

"Yes Wart." said Merlyn, "Or rather as I should say. Yes King Arthur."

(2) An actual quote:

Then Merlin to his own heart […]said:
"O true and tender! O my liege and King!

-Alfred Lord Tennyson.

(3) Inspired by a quote found in Arthur by Stephen R. Lawhead

"Myrddin," he said softly, "I am sorry I could not be the King you wanted me to be. The Summer King(…) I did all you ever asked of me, did I not, my father?"

"No man could have done more."

"I was enough, was it not?"

"Arthur, my soul, it was enough."

(4) Tennyson's the Coming of Arthur.

A/N:

"There's no place for magic in Camelot."

I've wondered about that one quote many times. For those of you that don't recognize it by sight, it's from 5x05- the Disir. Merlin dismisses the very thing he's supposed to care most about, returning magic to Camelot, and instead chooses Arthur's life over his own people's needs-Albion's needs.

Now, the question that hasn't been asked is this one: 'How far are you willing to go and for what?' One of my professors told me once to never devote myself to something or someone that I was not 'willing to die or kill for.'

Arthur's object of devotion, as evidenced humorously by the crack ship Arthur/Camelot is his kingdom. His people. His land. In fact, this is canon Arthur as the beginning quote clearly states. He was a man that loved his people too much, gave too much, and got too little. That, I think, it's the real tragedy of Arthurian literature. That Arthur believed in the goodness of mankind when mankind proved itself to be wicked, time and time again, and that he still gave his life for it.

That leaves us Merlin. Merlin, who loves his friends and family, who'd do anything for his friends and/or even strangers. This is the same Merlin that turned on Morgana once she proved a threat to Arthur and that estranged Mordred once he proved himself to be a threat to Arthur. Obviously, Merlin is willing to 'kill or die for' Arthur.

Isn't it fascinating to compare the two points of view? To Arthur it was noble, great even, to die for his country, for his kingdom. He deeply cared about it: 'You brought peace at last.' I love Camelot more than I can say, this place is my life." But to Merlin that was not so. To Merlin, giving his life for Arthur was always the greatest and most noble act. "I willingly give my life for Arthur's. His life is worth a hundred of mine."

Where do you draw the line? If asked, and he actually was asked indirectly by the disir, Merlin refuses to put Albion's needs before Arthur's.

So yeah, there you have it. Rant over.

Have a wonderful, truly blessed time wherever you are!

And after that I leave you all with a hug and Oz I hope that your day has been and continues to be beyond wonderful. *more hugs* I loooove youuuu.

Ps. Guys DC is killing me. I love it