A/N: The very last bit... hope you'll enjoy!

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To the New

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- The Epilogue-

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Morgana watches her dark-haired boy run across the fields, far away from the encampment, over the lush meadows to the gray stones jutting out from the hillside.

It's the eighth summer since the birth of their son.

It's been a bumpy road ever since. Arthur's reluctance to conquer has not stopped his kingdom from expanding way beyond it's reach, ever since Merlin lead him to Excalibur and he gathered his knights around the round table, armed with bravery and hopeless ideals. A true Arthurian court indeed. Their perplexing quests have been wearing her out. Merlin less so. She accompanied him in some of them, for some she stayed behind, waited for the dust to settle. Not all they do serve those with magic, not all of it is hers to fix.

Their own people - druids and sorcerers and priestesses alike, are still to recover, as much as anyone could, after so many decades of persecution. So much is still to be rebuilt, so much to be restored...

Not that it stopped Merlin from joining yet another one of Arthur's quests, choosing the company of the knights over that of their own kin. Yes. He's just the other side if the trouble.

They've lived together and apart - though the latter times never lasted, always ending in more ardent, lasting unions than before - to the point they stopped trying to fight this pull altogether and prepare more constant and comfortable arrangements throughout their journeys. Perhaps the Dragons were right all along - some things are left to the Fate - too difficult to change even for them...

... or too unwilling to. For their love has not been in vain.

Five times has she gotten with child - all girls save their firstborn, all each other's spitting image to the point that strangers can hardly tell the difference between one ebony-locked maiden and the other...

But the boy, their only son - quiet, yet expressive in strange ways, and oddly perceptive, at times too serious for a child - is quite unusual throughout.

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It takes long - it always does in these meetings - and he knows better by now than to tag along with his father and suffer through the whole deal. Hence, with a brief kiss and blessing from his mother, he is set to go play in the ruins of the old castle, overgrown with grass and weeds overlooking the crossroads beyond.

Standing on top of the rocks, he shields his eyes from the sun to studie the land where the parleys take place.

It used to be a big stronghold, a seat for ancient lords - now a mere ruin, glowing in the warmth of the first days of summer. In this breathtaking greenery, he closes his eyes and imagines, the lords and ladies in this court, wonders of magic and bravery... He sighs, thinking of all of this, the lands beyond, and his dreams...

One particular vision has been plaguing him recently. It shows mostly him wearing a green cloak, running trough the woods, fighting for his life... that and, people dying. Friends and enemies alike.

In one of them he holds the Crystal of Neahtid. In it, Aithusa comes to him, explaining that it holds the mysteries of time itself, for those powerful enough to wield it. She says that no one so far, not even his parents, have tested its true scope.

The other dream shows his mother, younger and somehow scared, like he's never seen her before. His father is there, too, but he doesn't know him, and he is suspicious...

In some dreams he is fighting whole armies of men, commanding life with his voice alone. In some, he becomes a hermit, living as a part of the nature, until the trees die out and stones crumble...

In some, he achieves glory beside a crowned head, though he never covets its weight. In those dreams, he loves someone deeply, and leaves them all...

Some say they're just there to tempt him. But dreams are more than that. Mother taught him this - taught him to remember, while his father taught him to understand and decide for himself. Knowledge changes everything.

In the end, it's all up to him.

Even as he sits there - daydreaming under the shadow of the woods - sudden noise interrupts him. Wood clatters against a stone, sending ripples of echoes through the valley below.

Getting to his feet, he decides to investigate. And sure enough, he finds the cause of the ruckus:

A boy, around his age is playing on the battlements, striking at the wind with his wooden sword and holding up an imaginary shield. Thick hazel locks, highlighted by the sun, his strong tanned arms flying around - he seems to be the polar opposite of his own skinny self, dark-haired and pale, hiding in the shade.

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"Haa!" The young warrior swings his wooden sword like he's seen the knights do.

Hacking more vigorously, he jumps high in the air as he does so.

Having grown up without any brothers or sisters or any peers of his age, the opportunity to show off is a rare one...

"What are you doing?" the new boy asks.

"I'm fighting a dragon."

"Why are you fighting it?"

Stunned by the question, he stops his imagined combat, and walks up to him.

"My father is the King, it's his job to protect all his subjects in Albion. Long time ago, he fought the greatest dragon of all and saved Camelot from destruction. One day, when I am King, I will need to prove my bravery, too..."

"The big dragon is too old, and the white one is our ally." The strange boy watches as his face falls. "You better find something else to practise at."

The prince stops, his lower lip pouting a bit. Then, it turns to a grin.

"I could practise with you."

He waves his sword, playfully.

"Come on, pick up a stick. I can teach you how to parry..."

The dark-haired boy studies the piece of wood with a strange smile. Then, just as he picked it up, he lets it drop.

"Why would I need that?"

"To protect the innocent of course."

"My parents never carry any weapons. And they can protect us all..."

"Your parents have Magic?" The prince's mouth drops open in wonder, then - a new wave of excitement takes over. "Can you do some spells as well?"

Wordlessly, the boy lifts his hand. When he opens his fist, sparks of fire fly from his palm, shining, bouncing like petals in the wind. A crow, fascinated, tries to snatch them from the air.

Amused, they both laugh.

Then, shouts: voices, calling down at the path below.

"I have to go." The boy looks back, regretful, as he climbs off the wall and starts for the woods.

"Wait!" the young prince shouts, thick curls bouncing in the wind as he tumbles after him... "I'm Arthur... What's your name?"

The boy looks back with a tiny, enigmatic smile.

"My name is Mordred."

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The end.

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As you see, the status of the story is now complete. And yes, this is the original Mordred, rather than his namesake or reincarnation. Given the extent of his magic and the properties attributed to the Crystal of Neahtid, there should be a way to jump back to the past for a while and go back again, once he finds the Crystal in their time. Which would also explain young Mordred's silence when meeting Morgana or Merlin in the series... Perhaps he was afraid to reveal and thereby change things too much? Just a theory of mine.

The ending is left quite open, though I don't plan any sequels of this length. I kind of like the idea of the future with Arthur and his knights going on quests, Merlin still orchestrating his rule, and Morgana as a somewhat reluctant anti-hero, either setting obstacles or saving the day, but essentially doing good in the end. Perhaps some one-shots set in this universe, based on the legends of the Arthurian court - who knows? : )

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Thank you all for following and favouriting and commenting throughout, the story would not have been the same without you!

Until the next time.

All-in-time.