Guess who exempted everything except math? That's right; Ocean was almost totally free from finals! :D

Right now I am a very happy bunny. I got accepted into my dream college with a scholarship and now all that's left is my excitement ( and slight worry, I admit) about leaving my home and living on a dorm for four years. But still, life's good.

I don't even know why or when this struck me but it was one ferocious plot bunny. I think it was mainly my inability of letting the rightful Golden Age of Albion pass me by and Merlin waiting God knows how much time for Arthur to come back. And even if the very last scene of 5x13 looks a bit contradictory to this fic it is not. But that's all I'm saying for now.

The updates for this will be a bit sporadic, be warned. Mostly because of graduation, a new semester and stuff. I hope I can heal a little bit of the fandom's heart after the finale with this. :D

Out of the mist of history
He'll come again
sailing on ships across the sea
to a wounded Nation
Signs of a savior
like fire on the water
it's what we prayed for
one of our own.

- Idina Menzel.

Prologue.

.

There were times- when the weariness was too strong and the memories too overwhelming -when Queen Guinevere could not stop herself from holding in her hands one worn neckerchief and the ancient sigil engraved with Ygraine's emblem. There, sitting on her chambers with the two most precious objects in her possession, she breathed in the soft scent of her beloved husband and his warlock wash over her amongst the tears that always trailed down her cheeks, both of sorrow and gratitude. She would remember as she buried her face on the soft wool. She would look back at a smile bright as the sun and two inquisitive blue eyes that she'd thought intriguing from the very first moment she'd seen Merlin walking through Camelot's dusty road. And behind her trembling eyelids she always saw Arthur right beside her best friend, smiling and teasing, looking back at her with that loving gaze of his.

Those beloved memories were her strength during her loneliest hours.

If she looked down through the sun kissed windows of her chambers she would smile at the sight of children and druids playing amongst themselves and then close her eyes so that she could enjoy the new light enveloping it all. But these times were trying and there was no childish laughter reaching her ears, no beam of sunlight to ease her grief. The worst drought in decades had befallen over the lands of Albion and as both natural healers and farmers worked together to ease the strain upon all of the people, bringing the land slowly out of its famine, disgrace struck again. This mortal disease claimed the lives of many people, children and women the most, and it left no trace on its wake and by the time skilled healers brought in under control more than half of the poorer on Camelot's lands had perished.

But Queen Guinevere held her head high and ruled over all with the patience and strength that made a hero known. In the few months that followed after the sickness was eradicated a mighty army from the north had invaded the outskirts of the kingdom and the Queen could do nothing more than send her best knights in defense of those who could not stand their ground. She watched with a troubled heart as they departed, many to never return.

Yet nobody knew that, for all of her strength and resilience, their magnificent widow Queen wept bitterly on her chambers with a torn neckerchief pressed to her eyes, finding solace in the scent of her long lost friend and her much loved husband.

Too many great years had gone by since Arthur had fallen in the fields of Camlann and the warlock Merlin, heartbroken, had disappeared from the face of the earth. She had taken upon her shoulders the responsibility of a flourishing kingdom; she had shaken hands with dignitaries from Mercia and Gawant, had embraced Mithian as a sister as they both cried. In the light of Gaius' revelations about Merlin's courage and bravery she'd repelled the ban on magic and recognized the sacred practices were not what Uther thought them to be and she proclaimed Merlin the greatest benefactor of the kingdom of Albion. She'd sat many hours with her hollow-eyed best friend, sometimes just taking his pale hands between her own and offering her shoulder for him to cry on.

Arthur had left behind a land almost indebted to him in its entirety and it wasn't long before those who remembered the golden haired King united under a single banner. When she saw the loyalty her beloved Arthur had inspired Guinevere had cried tears of joy from the same balcony Uther had once stood to announce the genocide that she had ended.

She never told anyone, not even the ever- present Leon, that she had hoped- expected even- for Merlin to come back once magic ran free again over the face of the United Kingdoms. She'd sat with her gaze on Camelot's courtyard one too many times, just waiting with a mangled heart for her friend to come home.

Merlin never returned.

She never grew tired of waiting. Once or twice she'd sent knights to the corners of the United Kingdoms with orders of searching for the savior of Camelot but they never found anything and if Guinevere hadn't known better she would've thought Merlin dead. Yet the dead had tombs …and Merlin of Ealdor did not.

The first time she heard of Emrys she thought it a cruel joke. The merchant had described a cloaked man acting as a physician and a warrior, a man who could heal and command the skies. 'The sun and the moon bend at his will.' He'd said.

She had long since wondered if Merlin was still alive but when the man mentioned 'the most ridiculous ears you can imagine, My Lady.' she felt hope like no other spring on her chest. She'd immediately poured herself on the ancient books she found about the long lost druid prophecies and learned with a quivering heart about Emrys…and for the first time Guinevere lay her eyes upon the words 'Once and Future King.'. It was then, in the barely lit library, that she'd wept the most because she understood now what she'd seen between her husband and his warlock, a bond she could not give a name.

The patrols searching for Merlin stopped soon after. She now knew that her friend was less than whole and that he would not- could not- see her again.

It had been the very first hours of the day when Leon had run in with moist eyes and trembling lips that could barely form words. After Guinevere had laid her hand upon his shoulder, knowing that whatever he would say would be a blow to her, he'd finally spoken.

"Gwen." She'd never heard him as desperate. "Guinevere Odin is attacking us now. Most of the people in the lower towns are defenseless and we-"

He was interrupted by the unmistakable hiss of boulders above their heads and it wasn't long before Guinevere found herself commanding her knights to fight another war when they'd barely made it out unscathed a few weeks ago. However, the very moment Sir Leon mentioned Arthur those weary warriors cheered and their hearts swelled, prepared to defend the kingdom for their beloved late king.

She'd remained behind with one hand upon her lips and one pressed on her temple, devising the best way in which she could give shelter and supplies to those who were in imminent danger, seeing through pained eyes how her knights carried those who were already hurt to the healers. She saw Alice run down the stairs to receive a new stream of burnt villagers and guide them towards the physician's chambers. The Queen closed her eyes, turning away.

It was then when the candle beside her was extinguished by a gust of wind.

She looked up, expecting perhaps to see Gaius or Geoffrey scolding her for staying up till dawn (the soft golden hues of the newborn sun already graced the throne room.) but the voice that spoke her name- so vivid yet when it could not be real- nearly made her faint.

"Guinevere."

Her eyes almost didn't dare to look up and yet they did, perhaps only so that she could see for herself how impossible it was-

She could hear muffled exclamations on the other side of the door and her heart quickened.

The newcomer looked at her and Guinevere felt her body shudder in wonder when her gaze fell upon the face of the man she had loved above all.

The Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon, stood in the center of the throne room, soaking wet and bone pale, boring with his blue eyes the face of his beloved wife.

"It can't be." She said, pressing one hand upon her lips to subside the sobs. "It can't be. What are you?"

He extended one gloved hand towards her and she instinctively reached for it.

The moment the leather from his gloves made contact with her skin Guinevere felt tears on her cheeks.

"Guinevere." The impossible being repeated and it was spoken with such softness and pity that she could not contain the great sobs that erupted from her lips. Those fingers- warm, pulsating fingers- intertwined with her own and not one heartbeat passed before Arthur had closed the distance between them and she'd locked her arms around him at the same time he said, "I'm real. I'm here. I'm alive."

She would've thought him a work of sorcery had she not read the prophecies and found shelter and dim hope in them. As Arthur embraced her Guinevere held him tight and gave thanks to the heavens for what she was seeing.

Fifteen years after his demise the Once and Future King had returned to his people.

Kilgarrah never specified when, did he?

This looks like a long-shot but I'll go with it. :D I can't say when the next chapter will be up but we'll address a bunch of things in it and contain a few surprises.

Once again, rather than focusing in accuracy this is a girl's attempt to heal the post 5x13 feels.

Massive hugs!

Ocean.