This is going to take forever. Sigh. Oh well! It's fun! :D I got several suggestions to focus more on the present people's reactions than the actual episode. Sorry. And I decided to skip a little! And then I'll go back! And forth and back and forth… XD bear with my rambling.
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"So what next?" Gwaine asked, finishing his ale with a happy sigh. Merlin had refused to refill his tankard after the knight had downed three, but that was alright. The world was slightly unfocused again, and everything was happy. Joyful and drunk.
"I think we should skip around a bit!" Merlin said cheerfully. "You know. We probably aren't going to get to all fifty-two memories, but that's okay…"
Arthur rolled his eyes and Elyan muttered, "Anything to keep from watching you and Gwen failing at flirting." Both flushed bright red.
Gwaine laughed. "Aw, was Gwen Merlin's first love? How cute!"
"She wasn't my first love, Fr-" Merlin blurted, cutting himself off and turning his head away sharply. This only peaked his companion's interest.
"Ooh, who's 'Fr'?" Gwaine cooed, but he too cut himself off at the small tears forming in the corners of Merlin's eyes.
Arthur was fed up with this. "Let's see that one, then!" Merlin pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head. That didn't exactly sit well with the king. "That's an order, Merlin," he said harshly. At the open look of shock and hurt on his manservant's face, he felt a pang of regret, but pushed it down roughly. Merlin had betrayed him. He didn't deserve pity.
"Yes, sire," the warlock whispered, and with a golden flash of eyes and a flick of his fingers, they were back in Camelot…
o.O.o
Rain was pouring down, as lightning flashed and thunder boomed. A horse-drawn cage was clattering up the cobbled streets, driven by a portly man with a rather cruel-looking disposition.
The Round Table found themselves standing in front of where the cage had stopped, the Sunshine Inn in the lower town.
The man checked the padlocks on the cage, then leered at the girl inside, who was dressed in a torn-up red dress, shivering in the rain and flinching away from her captor. The slight tinkling of the manacles around her wrists moving was drowned out by the weather. After chuckling to himself, the man headed into the inn.
Merlin only glanced at the girl briefly, then waited for the events to unfold.
Their view switched to the inside of the inn, where Gaius was pressing a cloth to a different man's forehead as he lay in a small bed. Merlin stood by, at the ready. "If he's not better in the morning, let me know," Gaius said quietly to the woman waiting next to them. Merlin helped his mentor into a long blue cloak and they headed outside, into the rain. As they passed the cage, the girl grasped the bars and stared at the two men pleadingly, chains rattling. Merlin watched her, startled with a glint of sorrow in his eyes. The physician pulled him along and they left the cage behind.
"Gaius!" Merlin pointed out.
"She's fallen prey to a bounty hunter," the silvery-haired man explained.
"She's only a girl!"
Arthur snorted. "Really, is she?" But his manservant did not reply with the usual banter. He just turned away and watched his younger self and the girl in the cage.
Gaius sighed. "She'll still fetch a good price though."
"Someone's going to pay for her?" Merlin asked indignantly.
"Uther offers a handsome reward for anyone with magic." He started to continue up the streets, but his assistant wasn't as willing.
Merlin stood his ground stubbornly, saying, "There must be something we can do."
"Merlin, bounty hunters are dangerous men – they're not to be meddled with. You of all people should understand that." As the physician started walking yet again, the young warlock gazed at the girl inside the cage.
Merlin choked a little. "I'll skip some." Not waiting to hear approval or dissent, he waved his hand and the world spun around them, coming to a stop briefly with Merlin tugging the girl away from a group of guards and hiding in the tunnels, giving her his leather jacket and telling her his name.
"I'm Merlin, by the way," he said softly.
She shivered and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "I'm Freya." Smiling, Merlin draped his jacket over her shoulders and the scene swirled again. "Freya," he whispered.
"Merlin!" Gwaine protested. "You're making me dizzy. So… you freed her?" Merlin nodded but still refused to reply.
"I'm sorry I took so long," Merlin panted, entering the small cave with a bundle of assorted food and a torch. Freya was wrapped up in his leather jacket in a corner, and stirred when he entered. "You must be hungry," he said lightly, handing her the bundle. She took it carefully but avoided eye contact. "What is it?" the warlock asked, concerned now.
"Nothing!" she shook her head.
"But you're upset," he pressed.
"You two are so cute together!" Gwaine continued, but his friend didn't answer, simply turned his head away.
She continued denying it, trying to hide the dried tear tracks down her face. "Did you think I wasn't coming?" Merlin observed. Freya tried to smile.
"I scare most people away."
"I'm not most people."
They continued whirling through memories, faster than thought, settling on one scene or another, each one rendering the present Merlin closer and closer to tears.
Merlin persuading Freya he'd smuggle her out of Camelot. She tried to refuse, telling him how dangerous it is, with the warlock eagerly announcing he'd promised he'd look after her, so he'd come with her. Her smile as they talked about living by a lake, with a field and a couple of cows. Laughing and joking.
A couple walking down the street, to be struck down by a strange monster.
A happy Merlin rambling on about supplies they'd need, holding Freya's shoulders as she smiled at him, encouraging him. Finally, a kiss.
A loud sob from Merlin distracted the Round Table, and they turned to see the warlock frantically wiping his eyes and covering his sniffles as he gazed at himself and the one he loved.
"Merlin, what… happened to Freya?" Elyan asked gently.
The manservant shook his head. "G-gone…" he whispered, then bit his sleeve as the tears streamed down his cheeks. Arthur didn't know what to say. Everything his father had taught him about magic, about sorcerers like Merlin, told him to push away all pity. Magic corrupted, made people evil. Merlin was no exception. Was he? None of them had ever seen the normally goofy, cheerful Merlin reduced to this. It just wasn't possible. Merlin didn't get… unhappy.
Merlin was packing, shoving it under the table as Gaius came in and warned him of the deaths in the Lower Town. Warning him of the cursed druid girl.
The one who, Merlin hadn't heard as he'd left the tunnel, had said goodbye in a tone that suggested forever. The one who he'd looked after, clothed and fed, hugged and loved, reassured and kissed. The one who would break his heart when she left forever.
Next, the scene showed Arthur and several knights facing off with a large black beast. Arthur stabbed it in the paw, as it yelped and staggered away to the courtyard. Merlin came racing in just in time to see his prince about to deal a death blow to the druid girl whose curse transformed her into a beast that killed, a kind human heart shackled by enchantments. Only to be released once morning came. Freya's now-green eyes locked with Merlin's, and in that instant his heart started to crack. But it didn't break, not yet – first he loosed a large stone gargoyle with magic, letting it crash down where Arthur had been a moment ago, distracting the prince and allowing Freya to leap into the sky and soar away on black feathered wings.
Racing into the tunnel, finding her dying.
Bringing her to a lake.
"What lake is that?" Leon wondered. Merlin watched, silent waterfalls of tears making their way down his cheeks and over his clenched jaw.
"The Lake of Avalon," the warlock said in answer. The knights and Gwen gaped. The Lake of Avalon?
Arthur frowned. "Yeah, right. Mortals can only see the Lake of Avalon right before they die."
"Then maybe you should look up what my name means," his manservant snapped harshly, freezing the memory and looking out longingly at the gray water, his younger self holding a dying Freya in the midst of the raindrops that were now hanging in the air, forgotten and stopped for a moment.
"But… a merlin is a kind of bird," Gwen mused.
"No, that other name. Emrys something-or-other?" Gwaine guessed. Merlin nodded.
"That is what the druids call me. Emrys means immortal in their language."
"So you're…" Leon stepped back a little. "Immortal?"
Merlin didn't answer, just started the memory again.
"You remembered…" Freya whispered, smiling at the lake as Merlin shook her slightly in his arms.
He tried to grin. "Of course." He seemed to work over something in his head. "I am… so sorry for what that sorcerer did to you."
"Merlin, you have nothing to be sorry for," she said softly.
"There must be something I can do, some way to save you!" he said desperately.
She shook her head, despite the obvious effort it was costing her. "You've already saved me. You made me feel loved." Merlin's face began to scrunch as he suppressed with all his willpower the tears that were imminent.
"I don't want you to go," he choked.
Freya just smiled. "One day, Merlin… I will repay you. I promise." Then her head drooped slightly and her eyes closed, forever. Merlin shook his head, breathing heavily, finally letting the tears go.
"F-Freya…" he whispered. No answer. With a choked gasp, he hugged her tightly, sobbing, not noticing that the rain had stopped around him. He made a boat, laid her in it, and covered her with flowers. As he watched it drifting only a few feet from shore, the heartbroken warlock raised one hand and whispered, "Astíre." The boat was pushed out, sailing away, when with a final tortured sob Merlin's eyes flashed gold and flames leapt from the wood, consuming the flowers and what had remained of his true love – his lady of the lake.
"I'm so sorry," Gwen whispered, looking stricken. The memory stopped for a moment, then swirled to show Arthur's chambers. Merlin seemed to be losing control slightly, as it paused on this particular scene for only a moment.
Merlin was polishing a boot, only barely paying attention to anything around him. He briefly glanced at the line of identical boots – probably fifteen pairs in all – waiting for their turn. After a moments more scrubbing, Arthur entered. "Ah, Merlin." He threw a goblet in the general direction and turned again. "I've been looking for you."
"Yeah, right, and you're gonna ask me to… polish your armour and, wash your clothes, and clean your room." Arthur just sat down next to him as he turned back to the boot he was scrubbing.
"Something's been upsetting you, hasn't it?"
Merlin's lower lip trembled as the tears fell freely. Noticing, Gwen nudged him. "I think we've got the point of this memory, okay Merlin?" she whispered. He nodded and with another flash of his eyes the memory stopped and they were back in the Crystal Cave.
"I'm sorry, mate," Gwaine said softly, still staring at the wall. Merlin refused to answer and slouched down next to the wall, placing his head between his legs and wrapping his arms around himself. Nobody moved. Even Arthur seemed to understand the gravity of what had happened to his servant, and just focused on sorting out his own feelings. They went something along the lines of:
Merlin is a… warlock? Whatever. He has magic.
Magic is evil.
You cannot trust sorcerers. Or warlocks, or whatever the hell they're called.
Merlin isn't evil.
But magic is evil.
Can one really be born with magic?
What if… magic really can be used for good? I've seen it save my life now, in the first memory.
No, that was just a fluke. A spontaneous act of good. Merlin is still plotting to destroy you.
WHAT? Merlin doesn't plot. He can't keep a secret to save his… well, maybe he can.
It went on like that, arguing between himself and trying to sort out what the hell he was doing in the Crystal Cave even listening to a magic user. His father had taught him all his life how magic was evil, seeking to destroy Camelot. Sure, he'd seen one or two instances where it had been used for good – Will creating the tornado and then taking the arrow for him being one of them – but still, magic corrupted, erasing all good within a person. Surely someone born with magic would be more than just corrupted, perhaps the magic had taken them over? Made them act good easily, with some sort of… magicky control? Or was it all just Merlin? Arthur groaned inwardly and thought, my life was sooo much simpler before Merlin came into it.
Elyan interrupted his thoughts by asking, "Merlin… which memory are we going to watch next?"
"I'm gonna show Arthur he has nothing to fear from me," came the manservant's muffled reply (his head was still stuck between his legs). They assumed his eyes had glowed gold, for the crystals around them congealed once more, bonding together to show a new memory.
A woman with pale skin, raven hair, and blood-red lips was swirling her hand around in a stone basin full of water, chanting strange words of the Old Religion. She took a petal from a small yellow flower and swished it back and forth in the clear liquid, still chanting. Her words changed briefly to encompass the word "Camelot" mixed in the strange words and syllables. The water blackened, then showed a picture of a manservant with a familiar neckerchief, holding up a set of armour to see if he'd polished it enough. The woman reached for the goblet and placed the now-clear petal on the lip of the inside, then raised it as if toasting someone who wasn't there.
"Merlin."
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
I know. I hate myself too. It's been SOOO long since I've updated blame it on Maui weather that kept me occupied ;)
See u hopefully much sooner for the next chapter!
~DeaththeKidKat
