Note: Companion Piece to If You Ever Come Back (but it can also stand alone). Inspired by JustSmileAndBeHappy's suggestion
The 5th of April was upon Camelot. It was Arthur and Gwen's fifth anniversary. Arthur was holding a grand feast in the day's honor. All of the court was celebrating and laughing with them, except for the court sorcerer. The seat on the right hand side of Arthur's throne was noticeably vacant. Merlin was nowhere to be seen, but Arthur had expected this. It happened every year on his wedding anniversary.
Throughout the day Merlin would go through the motions of being court sorcerer, but it felt as if he was never quite "there" all the way. Merlin would come attend breakfast, and greet him and Gwen with a chipper "Good Morning" that didn't quite reach his eyes. He'd then wish them the most "sincerest congratulations" from "the bottom of his heart", before asking if they needed anything else. If they did, then he would attend to it straight away. If they didn't, he'd go about his daily duties as court sorcerer. After they were completed, (which didn't normally take a very long time), he would disappear for hours. Arthur and Gwen knew better than to question him. He always came back.
Arthur remembered the first time he realized Merlin disappeared on them that day. It was the day of their wedding, although he had been too preoccupied with the ceremony, wedding party, and "after-the-wedding" events to notice. Merlin had been a supportive best man, said his speech, and a generally good well-wisher. However, he had slipped into the crowd after his speech and hadn't been seen again until the morning after. It was Gwen, really, who had first commented on it. She was always observant to that sort of thing. After she notified Arthur, both of them alternately took turns to ask Merlin what was wrong. Gwen took the more kind, compassionate, loving route while Arthur took the direct, tactless, and "tough love" approach. Between the two outstanding monarchs, who could wheedle information out of anyone, the best response they had received was a promise from the warlock that he would always return by the morning.
When Merlin had told Arthur of his magic a few years ago, it was then that Arthur had an epiphany. Although grudgingly, he confided in Merlin about dozens of topics from battle strategies to girl advice, and actively sought his counsel-whereas the same could not be said for Merlin. The man who was the king's closest friend had never told Arthur all of his secrets. Even with his magic exposed, Arthur had a feeling that Merlin had never told him the whole truth about his past, or anything that he really did. This instinct was further supported with Merlin's mysterious behavior every 5th of April. Well, Arthur didn't need his best friend keeping secrets from him, and he was determined this year to find out what was bothering Merlin.
Gwen supported his decision whole-heartedly. She was concerned for the man she had come to respect and love like a younger brother. So with her blessing, Arthur decided to go find Merlin instead of turning in for an evening filled with promise after the feast. Once he found Merlin, Arthur would kill the young man for making him miss out on such an evening, but that would be later. After he found out what was bothering the young warlock.
The feast ended, and Arthur had decidedly stayed sober for most of the event. He kissed Gwen before making his way to Merlin's chambers. However, Merlin was not there. His door was unlocked-like always-and a candle was burning in the window. It looked like he had just put a kettle on the fire, as it wasn't steaming yet, but there was nothing out of the ordinary to give Arthur any clues. These things were done every night at Merlin's place.
Arthur grumbled in frustration, not knowing the first place to begin. Since he was usually with Gwen on this day, and Merlin always turned up on the morrow, he had never actually thought that Merlin would leave the citadel. Yet, it appeared that he had. And his instinct told him that checking the lower town and tavern, while perhaps accurate guesses on a normal day, would be futile on this date.
He racked his brains for any tiny piece of information Merlin could've departed on him as a hint to where he could be. Merlin always seemed distant and cold this day. Distant and cold. That was something Arthur could latch onto. He suddenly recalled a conversation when he himself was feeling gloomy that day, and Merlin had confronted him about it.
Merlin had noticed something was off with Arthur that day. It was the day of King Uther's death, and Arthur was feeling particularly distant. Merlin tried to rope him back into reality with his witty remarks, surprising spurts of wisdom, and ultimately loyal behavior. Eventually Arthur came back to the light, and thanked Merlin for never giving up on him.
However, before he did, he had asked Merlin something, "What do you do, when you feel that all hope is lost? That everything is your fault, and you wish you could change what Fate has written?"
"Well…I um…I go by myself and think," Merlin cautiously replied.
Arthur normally would've laughed it off. He would've joked about Merlin ever "thinking", but not today. He needed all of the advice he could get when it came to this sort of stuff.
"Oh yeah? And do you…you know…have a special place to do that? Or does just anywhere work?"
"Well, usually I go by a lake."
There was only one lake close enough to Camelot to be able to visit it and come back within a day. The location struck a chord with Arthur. As if Destiny herself was giving him a nudge in the right direction. So with that, he hurried towards his destination-the Lake of Avalon.
"Merlin?" Arthur called out softly. He was careful to not be too noisy. Bandits were about, and more importantly, Merlin was not normally disturbed on this day. Who knew how he would react to Arthur's insistence on the truth.
He suddenly saw the lake, his vision obscured by some ferns which also hid his presence. As he approached the shore, he was thankful for the coverage when he saw the warlock huddled on the ground. It was a pitiful sight, and Arthur wasn't sure what to do.
Finally, he plucked up the courage, and approached Merlin's lone form. He raised a hand to gently push past the ferns, and stepped soundlessly onto the shore. He walked slowly towards Merlin, and realized that the man wasn't completely on the rocky ground-one of his hands was submerged in the water. The other was placed under his head in a makeshift pillow. Arthur loomed closer over Merlin's suddenly much smaller figure, and took in all of the distressed man's details.
Merlin's black hair was rumpled, and it seemed to shine in the glow of the moonlight. His eyes were closed tight, and his forehead was deeply creased with worry. His clothes were soaked (with sweat or from the water Arthur couldn't tell), and his feet were slightly twitching. He was muttering something. Half the time they were magical incantations, and the other half they were desperate pleas. Arthur could only make out a few of the words. Please. Worry. Stay. Love. Promise. Strawberries.
"Uh, Merlin?" Arthur tentatively asked, and lightly placed a hand on the other's shoulders.
Immediately Merlin jolted upright. Clearly scared, his eyes were golden when they shot open. His magic, instinctively protective, felt almost tangible in the air. His back was rigid, and his hand that was being used as a pillow was stretched out in front of himself. His other hand, though, never left the water.
Just as suddenly Merlin's power left him when he realized it was Arthur. His figure, once inflexible and straight, slumped to form the image of a broken man. The air was vaguely tense, but Merlin's bent form didn't seem to care. Instead, he, and the atmosphere, seemed more…resigned.
"What do you want?" his bent form inquired.
His question was almost missed by Arthur, it was said so quietly. Merlin's eyes remained downcast towards the water.
"To know what's wrong. To help." Arthur said earnestly. There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice now. Seeing Merlin so heartbroken had shaken him. It was wrong to see his normally chipper friend so despondent and depressed.
Merlin emitted a hollow laugh, "There's nothing you can do."
"Try me," Arthur pressed. He sat down opposite of Merlin now.
Merlin's form was still bent over the water, but he was now sitting crisscross and his body faced Arthur while his head was still resolutely pointed downwards. His face was turned towards the water as his hand made swirls in the liquid, while his eyes followed the ripples in the smooth surface.
"Well, there was a girl. I know I said there wasn't. But there was."
Arthur raised his eyebrows, though Merlin didn't see-his focus was still on the surface of the lake.
"And?" he pressed his advantage. Merlin was finally opening up to him, and he didn't want to lose his chance.
"She was…stunning. Perfect. With hair as dark as the night sky and big brown beautiful eyes that shone like two stars which guide you through the inky darkness. She was shy, but not afraid of anything. Strong, yet she needed someone to lean on. She was a contradiction at every turn. Spirited, stubborn, and smart-special."
"She sounds amazing," Arthur reverently commented.
He had never known Merlin to speak about another person in this way. Almost like a prayer, Merlin had essentially described her as his personal angel.
"No one else could ever compare with her," Merlin continued as if Arthur hadn't spoken. It seemed as if he couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. Something had broken free, and it had to be told,
"She was my-my everything. She was my forever. She was my happily ever after. But she wasn't my destiny.
"There was a curse upon her. It wasn't her fault-she was so young when it happened. When she accidently killed that-that man who threatened her…who would've thought the old hag would punish an innocent girl. Though both are long dead now."
Here, Arthur didn't quite comprehend Merlin's narrative. Bits were missing that Merlin was glossing over, but he wasn't sure he could ask for them. It felt like he was intruding on something extremely private, and he was merely an observer who had the privilege to watch.
"It wasn't her fault. She couldn't help herself-but that didn't stop her murder. It didn't have to be that way," Merlin choked out.
Murder. That was one word which certainly stood out to Arthur. He wanted to know why this girl-who seemed like a blameless, lovely soul (and was clearly important to Merlin)-was killed. Who would do such a thing? He would punish whoever did this heinous act.
"Who did it?" the words were spat out from Arthur's mouth. He wanted to punish the person who put Merlin through this torture.
Merlin's narrative halted to an abrupt stop. The tension in the air dramatically increased, and Merlin's head actually whipped up sharply to gaze at Arthur. His eyes were focused on the other man's for the first time that night, and there was a hard look in them. It was a look Arthur had seen before, but only on rare occasions. It was only used if there was a sensitive situation (which usually involved someone very close to Arthur) in which Merlin wasn't sure whether or not to tell Arthur. Not because Arthur couldn't be trusted, but because Merlin didn't know if he would respond to the situation in what he deemed to be a proper manner. And, as much as Arthur hated to admit it, Merlin's view of a "proper manner" in which to respond was almost always the correct way to react. The sapphire eyes were measuring him up now, assessing how he would react to the news. This worried Arthur. Who would hurt this girl that was close enough to him that Merlin had to judge his reaction?
"Who murdered her is unimportant," Merlin finally decided upon. His tone of voice was sharp, hard, and left no room for argument while his eyes sternly gazed into Arthur's.
Usually Arthur backed down to his friend when this expression was seen on his face, but not today. He had to know so he could help Merlin find some sort of peace. Merlin had clearly never told anyone about this girl who was so revered by him and, Arthur noted, he hadn't uttered her name yet. If he hadn't told anyone about her, or her death, the information must be eating up the young man inside. The things nearest and dearest to Merlin were not worn on his sleeve like Arthur's were. They were quietly valued, and fervently devoted to. However, any pain that was inflicted towards them were internalized, and never expressed until Merlin just broke down. That was one thing Arthur had learned when Merlin had been on edge all day until Gwen had comforted him.
Merlin had been looking decades older than he really was. Sure, time had passed since that day, but so had many other things. They had all gradually added to the warlock's burden until he could bear it no longer. He was sitting in the courtyard when Gwen spotted him. His head bowed, and his body motionless. She bent down and whispered something in his ear, and they went off to a quiet place, just themselves. When they came back, Merlin looked considerably younger than he had for a while, and although not happy, he looked serene.
Arthur never knew all of what his wife had talked about with Merlin. That had been a conversation for their ears alone, as Gwen pointed out, but she told him why the court sorcerer had been so depressed that day. It was the anniversary of his father's death. His father who was also unceremoniously taken from him, like Gwen's.
Although saddened that Merlin couldn't have confided that bit of knowledge in him, Arthur recognized that Gwen was probably the better, and more likely choice, to talk about that sort of thing with. And he didn't pressure Gwen into revealing anything more about her conversation with Merlin.
So although Merlin's tone left no room for argument, Arthur stubbornly pressed onward.
"No, I need to know Merlin," this time his tone left no room for protest.
Merlin and him had a stare-off with each other. Neither man backed down until finally Merlin said, in a broken whisper, "It was you."
He quickly looked back down to the water-his nerve seemingly abandoning him once more.
Arthur reeled backwards. It couldn't be him! He would never kill someone so important to Merlin! He wanted to challenge Merlin's statement, but he knew that it wouldn't be the right course of action. Instead, he took a different approach-a "Merlin approved" approach.
"Me? When? How?" he asked carefully. It wasn't a gentle tone of voice, nor was it angry.
"The bastet," Merlin said simply.
How could Arthur forget that particular nightmare? He had grazed the terror with his sword, but before he could further injure it, he had nearly gotten killed by a statue which had fallen and it fled. However, his mind suddenly recalled, right before the bastet appeared there was a small druid girl, dressed in rags. She had screamed when she turned into the monster-it couldn't have been a pleasant transformation. The time of the bastet was also the first time Merlin had ever called him fat and stole his food, and it was when he had stumbled upon Merlin with a few dresses. Now everything clicked into place. The druid girl was Merlin's Love.
His own blue eyes felt suspiciously wet, but he did not care (although he would not let the tears drop). He knew why he had fought the creature-to protect Camelot's citizens. However now there was an onslaught of remorse for his actions. He had never thought about if anyone had been close to the girl, since she was a fugitive on the run-and extremely dangerous and magical. He mentally slapped himself for being so insensitive and foolish. Everything he wanted to say to Merlin was inadequate to convey the depths of his remorse, shame, and sorrow. So he said the only two words he knew he could, with all of his heartfelt emotions put into them,
"I'm sorry."
Merlin looked up from the water again, meeting Arthur's eyes. There was sadness in them still, but the pain was dulled.
"I forgave you a long time ago," Merlin breathed.
"Is this why you disappear?" Arthur haltingly asked. The words were ripped against him from his will, but he had to know. He had to be absolutely certain.
"Today is the anniversary of many things. Did you think your wedding was the only important event which occurred today?" Merlin quietly asked, his gaze once again focused on the water. His tone was completely serious, almost an admonishment, but there was a faint glimmer of the old Merlin's sarcasm and teasing bite to it. However, it wasn't enough to make Arthur not feel completely stupid and self-centered. So he did the only thing he could think of-he asked the most selfless question he could conjure in that moment of time.
"Where did you lay her to rest?"
It wasn't a perfect selfless question-his morbid curiosity was also going to be satisfied with Merlin's answer-yet it was the only question which seemed natural in the situation.
"Here. In a boat, I shipped her out to the center of the lake. I gave her a funeral fit for nobility."
They were still sitting directly in front of the other, cross-legged. Arthur's gaze had never parted from Merlin during the entire encounter, but Merlin's had alternated from his to the lake. His hand had never lost contact with the lake.
"Is that why you keep a hold on the water?"
"Her pro-promise-" Merlin choked out the word. It seemed to physically hurt him to say it as his body shuddered violently, "and our love invoked a stronger magic than I had ever known about. I still don't know how it fully works."
"What are you saying?" Arthur asked.
"She promised to repay me for my kindness to her, and it has bound her to this lake. She is the one who helped me get Excalibur back from its depths when Morgana had taken over Camelot with her immortal army. Yet I have tried again and again to summon her from its watery depths and nothing has ever worked," Merlin was broken again.
He paused before looking up at Arthur and adding, "Feeling the water, being here, it's like I can feel her holding my hand again."
Then all was quiet. Merlin's gaze now looked past the smaller section of water out over the vast expanse of the lake to the mountains beyond.
"We always said that we would move somewhere where no one knew our names. With a couple of cows, wildflowers, tall mountains…and a lake," Merlin said-more to himself than Arthur.
Arthur didn't know what to say or do. He couldn't know. He had Guinevere back home to greet. He had never felt this pain, and could not possibly imagine a life without her. He was amazed that Merlin was able to carry on. He knew that if Guinevere died, he would be beside himself with grief. Perhaps too grief-stricken to carry on, like his father had been.
"Look, I don't know if you will ever see her again, but I'm proud of you," Arthur began, "I'm proud that you have been able to carry on with your life-I'm not sure I would be strong enough to do so if Guinevere died. And that you've helped me build Albion through your pain. Together we are unstoppable, and I know I couldn't have done it without you. Your love, she would have wanted you to be this great man that you are, and to be able to move on-I'm sure of it. And I know that wherever she is-whether in this lake or not-she is proud of you too. Proud of this world you have helped to create where magical and non-magical people coexist peacefully. However, it would probably grieve her to know that you have willingly chosen to suffer most of your burdens and grief alone. You know she wouldn't have wanted that, right Merlin?"
Merlin silently nodded-just a fraction of the inch-conceding that Arthur was right. However, he still didn't meet the man's gaze. He continued to stare out over the lake.
Arthur put up his hand, and grasped Merlin's shoulder. Merlin finally turned his head around and looked at Arthur-really looked-and for the first time on that day Arthur found a bit of peace in the man's eyes. It wasn't perfect, but Arthur was glad that he could help Merlin-if only to be a confident. They sat like that for a while-Arthur's grasp on Merlin's shoulder stayed firm while Merlin's hand still grazed the water. Both took comfort in the other's presence. One man healing with help from the other, with his hand dangling in the cool feeling of the lake which gave him strength. Finally, the blonde couldn't resist one last question,
"What was her name?"
It was the last piece to the puzzle, and suddenly Arthur felt embarrassed. Clearly Merlin loved this girl deeply, and he was probably uncomfortable sharing this last bit of knowledge of his first, last, greatest, and truest love. However, he was surprised to see a smile dancing on the edge of Merlin's lips. The warlock apparently took great pleasure in the question, and proudly, yet softly, reverently, stated her name,
"Freya."