He stopped her. "Are you truly weeping, Isabel?"

"May I lie?" she asked, trying desperately to get the tears under control.

"You could. But then you would be lying."

"Oh, man, your logic simply amazes me."

"What is it? Please, help me here, love. I admit I am at a loss."

"Come on, Father, she is happily in love with you. Any idiot would be able to see that."

"What he said," Isabel said.

"Thank you much for that explanation, my son. Now I understand completely."

He pul ed her close, and Isabel marveled that his warmth and scent was engrained in her memory forever.

"Your warmth and scent are so much a part of me," Arthur said.

She knew-she didn't know how she knew, but she did-somehow this al was coming to an end.

Viviane, tell me what is true. Am I about to lose Arthur to you?

Merlin is happy, he is up and about. He is so grateful to you, he wants to shout.

But, what is going on, is my mission done, so that now you are willing me gone?

Trust, Isabel, trust that 'twill work for all. Remember the necklace, then you make the call.

Great. Just fucking great. She had just found love and somehow she was about to be forced to make a decision. She didn't know what, she knew only that she soon had to make a choice.

She had, as she saw it, fulfil ed her part of the bargain. Okay, maybe not quite, since she'd been asked to do one thing and managed to do quite something else. But holy hel , just what had she done so wrong that the universe wanted to laugh by al owing her to love and then possibly stripping it from her? Wel , at least she'd known it. She supposed that was a prize more valuable than anything. She had to thank Viviane for that.

Okay, thank you.

Merlin cannot to begin to thank you, Isabel. And I cannot thank you enough as well.

She looked up at Arthur and stroked his face. "Just know that I love you."

"I again do not understand," he said. "I believe that with al my heart. Why are you speaking as if you expect disaster to strike?"

"King Arthur!" a man cal ed.

He turned, pul ing her behind him.

"Yes? Show yourself, please."

"You kil ed my king, Richard, and you wil pay for that crime."

"No!" Isabel screamed. "It was me. If you want revenge, take it out on me!"

"Shut up, Isabel," Arthur said. "Just this once, shut up."

She heard the arrow whizzing toward Arthur the moment it left the man's bow.

"No!" she heard Mordred say as he sailed into the air before his father and took the arrow right into his shoulder.

"James!" she screamed. "Go get that sonofabitch. And, please, beat him to a bloody pulp."

She and Arthur kneeled down over Mordred, who had a freaking arrow in his shoulder.

"No, Arthur, do not pul it out yet. It could wel kil him."

"Then what? I cannot al ow my son to die."

"I ... love you, Father," Mordred said.

"I love you, son. Please do not do anything stupid like die on me."

And Isabel knew what she had to do.

"He wil not die," she said. Then she spoke the words that would release the necklace. "Lady of the Lake, this must be done for love and life for all to have won."

She yanked the necklace from around her neck, and then cracked it over and over until the pendant broke. She held it over his shoulder, al owing Viviane's tears to drop on his wound.

"You wil not die, Mordred," she whispered as she felt life slipping away from her own body. "Your father needs you." She looked up for what she realized was the final time. "He wil heal. I love you, Arthur."

"Isabel!" was the last thing she heard before she left Camelot forever.

EPILOGUE.

DROWNING was a truly sucky way to die. But Isabel was beginning to resign herself to it, as she drifted into oxygen-deprived euphoria.

Good gods, she'd had the most incredible dream during her dying process. She just wished she'd lived long enough to actual y explain it.

Please, Lady, allow me my memories.

And the memories came back to her in clips. Arthur laughing, Arthur grinning, Arthur frowning and, best of al , Arthur winking.

No, wait, Arthur loving her like she had never felt loved before. The way he touched her, seemingly worshipping her. The way he became feverish with need, and those green eyes, gazing down into hers as he was inside her, making the ultimate love.

Thank you, Lady.

Would you care more to recall?

Oh, Lady, I want it all.

She found the most amazing thoughts going through her dying brain.

The way he had professed his love to her, over and over, in sometimes the kookiest ways.

She real y should have gotten to know more of the people at Camelot, she decided. She'd bet just about al of them were as good and kind as James and Mary.

None as Arthur, though. The way he had laughed at her dumb jokes. It was so sweet he did that, even though he probably hadn't understood half, at least.

The way he'd accepted her stubbornness, even when any other man would have given up on her.

Oh, man, she'd loved him to the end. She hoped beyond hope that he'd known.

He knew. Isabel, he knew; he knew your love for him was true. You gave up your life to save the son, and that then your mission in Camelot was done.

Oh, wel then, that was just peachy.

She didn't know what was going to happen next. She only hoped, badly, that she got to keep her memories, no matter where she was heading next.

And then something strange. It was almost like she felt banging against her SUV. She thought she felt hands grabbing her, and then an arm wrapped around her waist. It felt amazingly familiar. And that arm pul ed her up, up, up, out of the water.

The next thing she knew, she was coughing and choking and spitting out water.

"Ma'am? Ma'am?"

She opened her eyes.

"Ma'am, we're here to help. Welcome back. You are going to be al right."

She was staring up into deep green eyes, eyes she had first spotted in a forest long ago and very far away. His hair was dripping, his clothing soaked.

Her hand raised to touch his face. "Arthur?" she whispered.

He sat back. "Yes, how did you know that?"

"That rescue was beyond excel ent, Father. She looks okay to me."

Isabel turned her head. "And he is Mordred, right?"

Mordred laughed. "I'm sorry to say, yes. How did she know, Father?"

"I have no clue, son."

"You never did, you big oaf."

Arthur just stared at her. Then he brushed her wet hair back from her cheeks.

"Oh, my lands, Father. She is the woman you dream of constantly. Your description of her ... it matches exactly."

"There isn't a chance your name is Isabel, is there?" Arthur asked.

"As a matter of fact, it is."

"Good gods. Welcome back to the land of the living, Isabel."

"I'm glad to be here" she said. "By the way, where is here?"

"Grand Lake, in Oklahoma, ma'am"

"Isabel. My name is Isabel."

Arthur checked her neck and then lifted her into his arms. "It is very good to meet you, Isabel. Now let's get you to the hospital."

"What's wrong with Mordred's arm?" she asked, seeing that it was in a sling.

"He was foolish enough to step between me and a hunting arrow when we were hiking last weekend."

"Of course. Did you catch the idiot hunting with a bow and arrow?"

"Our friend James did," Mordred said. "Practical y beat the man to a bloody pulp. It isn't even bow-hunting season."

"Of course."

"This is real y uncanny. My father even dreamed one time that he'd have to perform CPR on you."

"Mordred?" Arthur said. "Can it."

"Thank you. But I real y don't want to go to the hospital," Isabel said. "Thanks to you, I feel much better now."

"I'm pretty sure Mary won't al ow you to walk away. Or James. They are the EMTs waiting to offer you a chauffeur-driven ambulance ride to County General."

"Of course. Where are Gwen and Lance?"

He stopped. "How could you know these names, Isabel?"

Good question. "I had this dream. This real y great dream."

"I know the feeling. Gwen is likely at her shop."

"Let me guess. A florist shop?"

"My God. This is becoming beyond weird."

"And Lance?"

"And Lance is probably operating on a patient as we speak. Orthopedic surgeon."