Learning to Let Go
By Roguefan212000
I don't own Merlin.
Lancelot's dark eyes scanned the candle lit ballroom before his gaze settled on the king and queen dancing on the floor's center. Affection still lingered in his heart even though he fought to put out the hungry flame. Perhaps he should go away for awhile, volunteer to join a quest or take part in patrolling the borders. The knight would do anything to turn this flame into dying embers and ash. He turned away feeling ashamed for harboring affections for a woman who belonged to another. Arthur is a better man than me, he thought. Gwen is safe, happy and loved, this is all that matters. However his traitorous heart still yearned for what it could not have, standing by watching her dance gracefully in the flickering candle light wasn't helping.
He glanced across the ballroom catching Merlin's eye momentarily. A sad smile graced his lips as he gazed at his friend; he was still a servant when he deserved so much more. The knight's smile faltered when he saw a glimmer of grief shining in his normally bright blue eyes. His friend's eyes shone with the haunted hunger of a man who desired something out of his reach. Lancelot's handsome face flushed hotly with shame because he felt certain that he showed the same expression whenever he looked at Gwen. Later that night, he found him standing in an empty corridor gazing out an intricately detailed stain glassed window.
"There's something troubling you, Merlin," he said in a factual sort of tone.
"It's nothing," the warlock answered a bit too quickly. "I'm fine." The older man leaned against the wall while gazing at the younger one in a knowing way.
"You are far from it, my friend," he replied with friendly warmth shining in his dark eyes. "You know you can tell me anything."
The raven haired servant had never told anyone about Freya, she was a cherished moment locked away in the depths of his heart. But tonight his grief rest like a cloak on his shoulders, it was the anniversary of her death. His old wounds became naked and raw when a fresh bout of grief swept over him. He felt as though all the oxygen had been drained from his surroundings. Merlin's breathing faltered slightly as he confided in his friend. The knight placed a comforting arm around his shoulder, gazing at him sympathetically. Even though their time together had been brief, he could tell that Merlin cared very deeply for this druid girl.
"I'm sorry," Lancelot said thoughtfully after hearing his tale. "She sounds like a wonderful person."
"Don't be," Merlin answered softly as his eyes shone brightly with unshed tears. "Yes, she was. I've never known anyone like her, Freya was special. I promised I'd keep her safe but …"
"You did everything you could," the older man said kindly while leaning against the stone wall beside his friend. However knowing that one has done the right thing didn't stop the heart ache one bit. If it was enough then the lingering sadness he felt when he thought about Gwen would not exist. His words had not been entirely truthful when he spoke to Merlin that night not so long ago.
In the morning, the two friends traveled to the lake of Avalon. This was Lancelot's idea; he thought it might bring his friend some sense of closure. Merlin told him, he hadn't been to the lake since the day Freya`s slender pale arm emerged from the shining water holding Excalibur. That had not been enough to mend his broken heart. The knight stood by Avalon's glistening shore with his red cape billowing in the breeze as he watched his friend's eyes flash gold causing beautiful strawberry blossoms to spring up from the damp soil. The two men looked towards the lake watching the wind scatter blossoms across the water.
"She loved strawberries," Merlin said with a sad smile.
"It's wonderful", Lancelot replied warmly while gazing at his friend's creation.
This was his parting gift to the druid girl, he needed to let her go and move on. But he longed to see and touch her again. The need to be near her was nearly overwhelming. The young warlock stuffed his trembling hands into his jacket pockets, gaining comfort from the feel of the tiny rose hidden in his left pocket. It was her rose. Their fledging stirrings of first love had been cut down before it could fully take root. He couldn't help but wonder about what they might have become if fate had given them more time.
"Good bye, Freya," he said softly, managing to keep his voice steady. Merlin removed the tiny rose from his pocket dropping it on the shore. The rose was enchanted so it would never die. He turned away from the lake followed closely by Lancelot. Just as Merlin let Freya go, he needed to do the same with Gwen. So he reached toward the small satchel fastened to his belt then pulled out a purple hair ribbon. He dropped the ribbon beside the discarded rose on the shore. Two men left their lost loves behind in a single day. The gentle currents of the lake embraced the land hiding the ribbon and the rose under its glistening surface.