Before:because of time complications, the last few chapters of this fic have been scrapped, but what would have happened is a final battle on the site where Camelot once stood, in which Morgana dies, comes back through a crack in the world more powerful than before, then after Arthur casts away his sword and refuses to fight, she stabs herself and fades again. Then, after the battle, the knights slowly start fading, one by one, until only Gwaine, Merlin and Arthur remain: the trio. This story is ending here.

'Until the end of days'

The second time Merlin and Sir Gwaine parted, both of them knew it was goodbye. But being the way they were, it was not sad. They were friends foremost and friends until the end; that's how they left it. "Merlin," Gwaine called the Warlock over to where he stood, atop a rock on the battlefield. The effects of the battle could be seen in his ashy hair and dirty armour, but his smile still shone. "I forgot to ask, I've been meaning to all this time – Did you ever find what you were looking for?" The warlock's breath caught in his throat, as he remembered all those years ago outside the crystal cave, the first time they had said goodbye. "Yes," Merlin nodded honestly, sincerely, as he beamed at Gwaine "that and so much more." The knight had smiled back, pleased for him as they shook hands, as he faded in front of Merlin's eyes, that smile lingering a second longer than the rest, before Sir Gwaine vanished. That was their second goodbye, and their last.

Finally, only King Arthur and his loyal Merlin remained. They kept walking, until they reached the destination neither intended, yet where they would always end up. They stood at Avalon, now a lake once more, changed for now for this very moment. The waters were still the bluest blue, sparkling in the afternoon sun setting on the horizon. The final day for Arthur in this world; as the sun set on Camelot's last day. The King, fully in armour, walked towards the water's edge, for what needed to be done seemed obvious now. It was always going to end this way: the King returned to Avalon once more.

"So that's it?" Merlin shouted behind him, causing Arthur to turn and face his friend's distraught face, torn up in emotion, "You just leave like that, and I'm left here again?" Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin wasn't done. "Like this was nothing? I can't stay here, Arthur. I can't be that alone again," he shook his head, begging now. "This world is not my home. This last week with you, I've been more alive in these few days than I have been in hundreds of years. I can't lose everything again – I can't"

The King shook his head, eyes softening as he understood his friend perfectly. For a long time, the King's vision of the sorcerer was cracked, but now he saw him as he was. "You can come with me this time" he told his friend.

"I can come with you?" Merlin echoed, shock set into his features as he dared to believe it was true. Arthur nodded, "If you chose to. It means dying, leaving behind this world – your house," he smiled as he continued, "the daffodils, the bike. But if that is your choice: you can come with me this time." Merlin's mouth fell open, unsure what to feel. It was obvious, wasn't it?

"Of course I'll come with you" he answered after snapping out of the joyful daze, walking forward purposely to meet Arthur on the shore's edge. The King looked baffled. "You do understands what this means, don't you Merlin? You'll die." Arthur asked incredulously, the tone his friend smiled at from years ago, the one he'd missed dearly.

"I am going to die" Merlin said, and Arthur remembered the scene from his vision unfolding before his eyes, as the final puzzle piece slipped into place, "If I stay here. If I stayed - that would be dying: I'd be like I was before, not myself anymore. Coming with you now, I may die physically, but it's not dying – not really. It would be setting me free." Arthur looked at Merlin so strangely then, but the gaze was lost on Merlin, who stared out towards Avalon. "There's something about you, Merlin" the King echoed his first words to Merlin, a thousand years ago in Camelot, ending it differently this time, "I don't think I'll ever understand it."

"That would be no fun" the boy grinned, finally glancing over to his King. The breeze picked up, ruffling their hair, setting the scene into motion. Above, the sun shone fiercely even as it fell in the sky, lighting it up. It was as if the world was glowing in all its infinite glory to pay its respects to its two greatest heroes as they departed for the last time.

"Ready?" Arthur asked, with a sideways glance at Merlin.

Merlin nodded, sunlight catching in his eyes as he looked back. "If we're going, at least it's together."

They started walking. The Water quickly covered their boots as they marched into the tide, side by side. A low mist formed in the hazy light, obscuring the view; removing signs of the modern day. Only the Tor, silent and resolute, could be seen in the distance, and Merlin sorrowfully thought of Freya alone in there. I'm sorry. He thought of her face, so sweet and honest. I'm so sorry. Somehow, he knew she heard him and she understood. She would want him to be happy.

Ahead, Merlin noticed something in the swirling mists, a movement; a picture forming in it. It twisted and snaked, growing upwards until it became clear. It was Camelot, as it had once stood in its golden age. It looked so familiar, and yet it was as Merlin had never seen it: in a time when magic was free. "W-what?" the question was half formed as he turned, bewildered, to Arthur, who was smiling at him knowingly. They had paused, but now the King continued to walk calmly as he explained.

"What you did today, Merlin, it didn't just save the world now. It protected it forever. That world, as it is, is under the protection of magic from this day on. There will be no more war or conflict; there is no great evil left. Now, this is Albion." The King pointed to the castle in the mists, as Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur held up a finger sagely, so the warlock fell into silence so he could continue. "'Albion' means peace. This Kingdom, which you gave everything for but never got to live in, is your peace. We can live here for eternity – it's yours, you made it all that it is. This is your peace." Merlin, who had half formed tears in his eyes as he looked upon that kingdom of light with the same awe which he once gazed upon Camelot, the first time he had entered it over a thousand years ago, replied softly "Ours."

"Well yes, technically I'm still the King of course - you'd be a terrible King," Arthur laughed, and Merlin joined in begrudgingly, "But you're the court Sorcerer."

"I'd love nothing more" the boy grinned, joy, pure uncontainable bursting joy, filling every inch of his body. Albion, the promised land of peace – It was unbelievable. The most beautiful sight he could imagine. And an eternity with his friends to live in it? Every one of Merlin's dreams could not have matched the level of perfection this was, nothing could make him happier.

Still walking into the lake, which was now lapping around their waists, they could not feel its icy bite. They had one foot in this world, one in the next. As the King and Warlock walked through the waves, which would eventually take them, they were also walking towards the light in the mist. To their new home. Arthur spoke, "It's not the other world, as such – this one was created entirely for you. There's nothing to fight here, nothing to be scared of, or for."

"-no destiny?" interrupted Merlin, paling with the realisation.

"No destiny." Arthur smiled kindly, knowing what this meant to Merlin. Freedom. To be free from his life being shaped by powers above his control, to be free to chose his own path. "From now on, this story is ours to decide."

"But they'll never stop telling them" Merlin wryly smiled, glancing over his shoulder to the mortal world, now in the distance, "they'll never forget it as long as this earth turns. It will be as much a part of the land as the trees or the sky"

"It's not over yet, either" Arthur said evenly, finally holding out a gloved hand to Merlin as their heads and shoulders were about to go underneath the waves. "The next chapter is our own to write, in Albion, if you'll still come with me."

Merlin's face, so wonderstruck, broke into a smile. "Of course I'm coming with you, you clot pole. Camelot is my home." Figures, whose armour glinted in the sunlight as they waited with looks of kindness, ready for new adventures, appeared in the fog in front of them, growing into faces he recognised so well. The knights of Camelot stood there, and Gwen. Gaius smiled from beside Balinor, and Kilgarrah glided overhead. His friends in all their glory - and how great they were.

It hadn't been goodbye after all. Now they would never have to part again.

"They're waiting" Arthur said, never taking his eyes off his oldest friend. Merlin smiled back.

"Let's go home." He took Arthur's outstretched hand, a friendly gesture, one of comfort and love. The two men, brothers in soul, walked under the blue waterline, as the darkness swallowed them up. Neither was afraid, for they were together, and could take on the world. Afterwards, neither would remember dying, but a blinding light later and they were home.

They left together, and stayed that way for numberless days, until the last leaf had fallen from the last tree: Camelot thrived, they lived and laughed; and even then, the stories of the legends remained, always. For all Merlin lost, he loved as deeply, and lived as happily. He waited, and was rewarded with this world of hope, where he could live out all he had dreamt of. His friends waited for him, they never left him again; never again did the old warlock feel alone. Arthur ruled over this Camelot for many years, ageless, as it grew when people found peace.

The mortal world stood tall too. When Merlin died, he rejoined the earth, and his magic protected it – the grass grew greener, the waters cleaner, everything was in light. He was protecting the kingdom even in death, and always would. And that world – they remembered him. As long as there was man, there were stories: Merlin's legend was never forgotten, it lived forever in words. Emrys was immortal through stories, but he was more alive in death, and finding Albion, as he ever was walking the earth.

The people of Camelot lived in Albion for an eternity: in wonder, happiness, peace. Magic never left the eyes in which it had found grace, and hope remained until the end of days.