Merlin isn't mine.

Arthur sighed. Camelot was beautiful and thriving. The ban on magic had been repealed and he was now making his way to his new Court Sorcerer's chambers. He smiled, remembering how proud and utterly complete Merlin's smile had been earlier that morning as he had been sworn into the noble court. Arthur was so proud of his friend and he couldn't imagine anyone else having Merlin's new position of Court Sorcerer.

Upon reaching Merlin's new chambers, Arthur knocked the old wooden door and entered at his friend's call to do so. He found Merlin standing near one of his dressers looking at what appeared to be several pieces of bark. As soon as Merlin realized it was Arthur who had entered his chambers, he immediately donned the most genuine smile Arthur had ever seen. He couldn't help but smile back at Merlin's happiness.

"How are you liking your new chambers?" he asked Merlin expectantly.

"They're huge!" Merlin exclaimed. "I have no idea what I'm going to do with all of the extra space."

Arthur laughed. Merlin seemed to be liking his new rooms. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Merlin laughed with him as he walked to the other side of the room, pieces of bark still in hand.

"What are those?" Arthur asked curiously, walking towards his friend.

"Paintings." Merlin answered, showing Arthur the two he was holding. They were absolutely beautiful. The first was of a young boy and girl, no older than 15, leaning their backs against an old tree by a forest. The boy was cheerful and smiling. He had dark hair and a pale face with prominent cheekbones. It's Merlin! Arthur realized with a smile. In the painting, Merlin sat comfortably against the tree, twisted to be looking at the girl, wearing his usual brown pants and red shirt.

The girl shared many features with Merlin. She had the same dark hair that ran in a long, thick braid down her side. She, too, had prominent cheekbones and had the same blue eyes that Merlin did. She wore a modest brown dress, tied around her waist with a brown braided rope, and a red neckerchief around her neck. She reflected Merlin's position on the other side of the tree and was giving the same gleeful smile.

The second painting was a portrait of just the girl. She was beautiful. As in the last picture, her hair was in a braid. She was smiling and around her neck she wore a blue neckerchief. Who is she? Arthur wondered. Why does Merlin have these paintings? He looked at his friend who was smiling fondly at the paintings, or perhaps the memories they came with?

"Who is she?" Arthur asked, still in awe of the paintings' beauty and perfection.

"Her name was Willow." Merlin smiled sadly. "She was my sister. We were twins." Arthur felt his heart sadden. Why was Merlin talking in past tense?

"What happened to her?" he asked quietly.

"She drowned shortly after our eighteenth birthday. Her death was part of the reason I came to Camelot." Merlin readjusted the paintings in his arms. "She loved to paint. She made these. Our family didn't have much money at all, so she took the bark from our firewood to paint on, and she saved all of her earnings for almost six years to be able to buy these nice paints. Sometimes she even just sketched with ink on plant leaves, or used berries and tree leaves for color. Willow was very resourceful," Merlin chuckled. "I remember she spent hours looking at her reflection in the water, just memorizing her face so she could paint herself into her pictures."

Arthur followed Merlin back to the dresser which held many more paintings. They were all as beautiful as the first two. Some were portraits of Merlin or Hunith, and even a boy Arthur recognized as Will. Others were of animals, skillfully drawn into their peaceful habitats. One was even a sketch of the home Merlin had grown up in, it matched almost perfectly with the way Arthur remembered it.

Arthur stared in awe at the artwork. It was almost as if someone had captured a specific moment in time, and put it onto each piece of bark. Every piece was so detailed and every color matched perfectly with its surroundings.

One thing Arthur noticed, was that in none of the paintings, was Merlin wearing his neckerchief. However, the girl, Willow, was always wearing one. "Why aren't you wearing your neckerchief?" Arthur asked Merlin.

"I didn't always wear a neckerchief, you know." Merlin replied distantly. "Willow was the one who always wore one. When we were young, around ten I think, our village was invaded by thieves looking for crops. One of them was particularly evil. He had a knife, and was just slashing it around, cutting into doors and walls and even people. He swung it at Willow when she tried standing up to him and it cut right into her neck." Merlin shuddered and paused.

"It was a nasty cut. The blade had been unclean and jagged, and the wound of course became infected. Our mother was able to stop the bleeding, but she became so ill. We feared she wasn't going to live. One evening, she was so weak, and I remember mother quietly telling me that Willow probably wasn't going to wake up in the morning. I stayed with Willow all that night, holding her hand. I fell asleep like that.

"Mother said that sometime in the morning, Willow had opened her eyes, and they were bright gold. When mother turned to wake me, she noticed that my eyes were the same. Neither of us were awake, though, and neither of us remembered it afterward. We had healed her. The next morning, she woke up healthy, and feverless and her cut was able to begin to heal and scar. I think that was when mother realized how truly instinctual our magic was. We were both born with it, and sometimes the use of it was as unpreventable as a heart beat.

"The wound left an ugly scar, though. And for our eleventh birthday, mother made her a neckerchief. She made me one too, but I hardly ever wore it. Willow always wore hers to cover her scar. She had many neckerchiefs, in blues and reds and green. There was even a yellow one that our grandmother gave her." Merlin laughed. "She wore it to be polite, but she didn't enjoy it."

Arthur looked at Merlin who was still looking at the self-portrait of Willow. She must have been very brave to stand up to a knife-brandishing criminal. Looking at the painting again, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was.

"She looks so beautiful," Arthur said before he realized it.

"She was." Merlin smiled. "She was beautiful. And kind, and modest. The children of our village always looked up to her. She always helped in the fields, taught the children how to do odd chores to earn money, and she always smiled. Always. She taught the children how to cook, how to survive if they ever became lost, and how to swim." Merlin chuckled bitterly now.

"Willow was a great swimmer. She was strong and lean and knew water well enough to know where was safe and where was dangerous." Merlin paused. "Unfortunately, children do not know how to tell such things. There was a young boy, only seven or eight, who was still learning to swim. He had unknowingly made his way to a rather dangerous part of the river near our home. Thinking that water was water, he hopped right in. It was too deep, and he couldn't keep his head up. Willow and I heard his shouts. We weren't far from him. She never even hesitated, just jumped right in to get him. The river had a dangerously fast current and they were both under water for over a minute. When she broke though the surface, the boy alive and crying in her arms, I couldn't have been more relieved. She was still struggling, though. The current would have been hard to fight with just herself, but trying to keep a frightened child above the surface as well? It was too difficult, I could tell.

"I had always been an awful swimmer myself, so I knew I would only matters worse if I tried to get in and help her. She made her way to the bank of the river where I met her. She was tired, her legs were weakening from all her effort. I took the boy from her, and he was safe. He ran back to the village for help. I reached my hand out to Willow." Merlin stopped, lightly tracing the side of her smiling face in the painting with his hand.

"The river swept her away before she could reach back." He choked. "I tried to run after her, but her head struck a rock and knocked her unconscious. She was unable to swim. I followed her, the current was fast and she was just floating along with it. Eventually the river slowed and I waded in to get her. She was already dead. There was nothing I could do. Not even our magic could bring back the dead."

Arthur felt a lump in the back of his throat. Willow was brave and kindhearted, he knew. Just like Merlin.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry." Arthur began, he couldn't picture life without Merlin, whom he considered a brother. He couldn't imagine the pain Merlin must have gone through, knowing that he would never see his sister again.

"It's alright." Merlin said, rubbing his teary eyes. "She died saving someone. She was honored in our village. Everyone mourned together, but we knew that Willow wouldn't want us to remember her mournfully. Slowly, everyone became more cheerful, always trying to be positive and smile about things. They taught the children how to swim and tell safe water from dangerous water. They learned from her and Ealdor became a better place because of her bravery and selflessness."

"She would be proud of you, Merlin. For all that you've done." Arthur comforted his friend.

"I know she would be. She always believed that magic shouldn't be feared as it was. She wanted a peaceful kingdom, where magic was accepted, and status wasn't judged by birth. She wanted to live in a kingdom like the one you've created, Arthur. Willow would be proud of you, too"

"Like the kingdom we've created, Merlin. Without you, I would still be an arrogant arse and I would have followed my father's footsteps and Camelot would be worse than it was." Arthur told him, trying to convey how important Merlin was to him.

"I wonder how everything would have turned out if Willow had been able to come to Camelot with me." Merlin wondered aloud. The two friends sat in silence for a while, each trying to imagine if Willow had been around in Camelot. Arthur realized something.

"Is that why you wear a neckerchief?" He blurted. "To honor her?"

Merlin smiled kindly, unwittingly mirroring Willow's face in the painting. "Yes. She always tried to get me to wear the one that mother made me, and I don't really know how to explain it, but it just sort of felt like my own little way to remember her."

The moment was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock on the door. "Come in." Merlin said, hastily wiping any traces of sadness from his eyes. Arthur quickly did the same.

It was Arthur's new manservant. "Sire, Queen Gweniviere is wondering if either of you are ready for the feast."

"Please inform her that we're on our way." Arthur said kindly.

After the servant left Arthur turned to Merlin and gave him a pointed look. "You see, that is what a competent servant looks like."

Merlin laughed, and Arthur was glad his friend was smiling again. "So there's why you were a neckerchief." Arthur said in jest thoughtfulness. "I guess we're a few steps closer to understanding the mystery of Merlin."

"I'll make you a deal," Merlin said, "Every night I'll tell you a different story. Be it about how I saved your life, or about when I was younger, or whatever, as long as you teach me how to use all of those different forks at the feasts."

"You could be asking for anything right now, and you choose silverware?" Arthur laughed.

"There are like six of them!" Merlin defended, his laughter echoing through the halls as they made their way to the feast.

Arthur wondered what kinds of stories Merlin would tell. Anything that Merlin told him would get him one step closer to solving the evergrowing puzzle that was his best friend.

"It's a deal" Arthur promised.

Years later Arthur would still come to see Merlin just before night to hear his story. He listened to tales of Merlin's joys and sorrows, his victories and his losses, stories from Ealdor and Camelot, and soon there were no secrets left between the two. Merlin often opted to tell stories of Willow, telling Arthur of his favorite childhood memories with her and all the mischief they'd gotten into as children. Arthur always enjoyed listening to his friend's stories, and to honor Willow, he set up a program that would teach Camelot's people to swim and how to tell if an area was safe to swim in or not.

Through swim lessons, neckerchiefs, and art lessons, Willow would never be forgotten, and Merlin couldn't be happier.