It was unfair.
Merlin was used to unfairness in his life, to injustice-why did he have to keep a huge secret, and the other children didn't have to fear saying even the smallest of sentences in case it condemned them to death? Why did he get stared at, and yelled at, and cast out? Why did the village boys gang up on him? Why did he have a prat for a master? Why did his father have to die? Why, why, why?
But one of the worst injustices was watching his master, his best friend, his destiny kill the only woman he'd ever loved...and then watch as he claimed his own love from Gwen.
Merlin was happy for them-so, so happy that they'd finally gotten this chance-but...it was just another wrong against him. Just another sick, twisted punishment that got thrown his way, for a reason he could not fathom.
And just to top it off, just to be spiteful, Fate decided to coincide the day of Arthur's proposal to Gwen with the anniversary of Freya's death.
Normally, Merlin would suck it up and hide behind a smile, just like usual, hoping nobody saw the depths of his pain. He would have pushed his anguish down, down, down into the depths of his heart and try (unsuccessfully) to ignore it, had it been for one thing.
He was full.
He was full to the brim with pain and sadness and he just wanted to slink off to Freya's lake, to bury his face in his hands and let go, to let go of Will's death and Balinor's death and Freya's death and life's injustice and his loneliness, his constant charade.
Lancelot knew, but really, it was a topic they breached as little as possible. After all, being overheard was a huge risk.
But Arthur had other plans.
"Merlin!" Arthur had greeted that morning, sounding odd. Merlin didn't notice it, too busy trying to hide his pain, trying not to let tears fall.
"You're already up!" he exclaimed, trying to sound surprised and cheery. It fell flat.
Fortunately, Arthur was too preoccupied to notice.
"Yes," he agreed absentmindedly, pacing nervously. Then, suddenly, he swiveled on his heel to face Merlin and asked, "How do I look?"
Merlin did a double take, surprise temporarily overriding his grief. "I'm sorry?"
"How do I look?" repeated Arthur, eyes wide with apprehension.
His hair was shining and neat, his tunic clean and pressed, and his boots polished to a shine. All in all, he looked formal.
Nervousness was a trait Merlin had hardly ever seen in Arthur, except when Gwen was involved, so Merlin automatically jumped to the correct conclusion.
"If you're asking if Gwen will like it, you look fine," he reassured the jumpy Prince, feeling the knife in his chest twist as he thought of Arthur's luck with Lady Love.
"Hmm," was the only reply he got, before the prince went back to pacing. Merlin began making the bed, still struggling with his emotion. He began fluffing a tasseled pillow.
"I'm going to propose to her," Arthur burst out suddenly, stopping mid-stride as he gazed at Merlin with anxious blue eyes.
Merlin dropped the pillow. "What? Really?" His mind spun and his heart lurched.
"Yes," Arthur confirmed, still looking at Merlin with unblinking eyes.
"Now?" he asked, still incredulous.
"Yes," repeated the Prince. "Well, in an hour or so."
Merlin flinched slightly. "Where are you going?"
"I'm taking her into the forest," Arthur babbled, wringing his hands. "A nice little clearing I found, next to beautiful lake, with mountains in the distance..."
Merlin's breath hitched. Nonononononono...
"I'd like you to come," continued Arthur, oblivious, as always, to Merlin's turmoil.
The words to cover up his objections stuck in Merlin's throat. Instead, he quickly blurted out, "I know a better place."
Smarmy comebacks completely abandoned in this conversation, Arthur leant forward, interested. "Really?"
"Yeah," Merlin stuttered, "G-Gwen really likes f-flowers. I think you should go s-somewhere with lots of...daisies, and stuff. She loves those."
Arthur nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, Merlin," he said earnestly, surprising his manservant, before striding out the door.
Merlin stared after him for a moment, before letting out a shaky breath, relieved that he had deterred Arthur from using Freya's lake as a spot to propose to Gwen to...on the anniversary of her death. That would have just been...unbearable.
He hurriedly finished up the chores, freed from dressing, bathing and feeding Arthur this morning. It only took him a half hour or so, and he strode from Arthur's chambers desperately hoping nobody would cross his path or stop him as he headed for Freya's lake.