God, such a great response for one chapter! I'm so grateful for all the support I'm already getting, thank you!

I have the first six chapters of this story written, and I'll be uploading one a day so that those of you who read it on my other account don't have to wait too long for us to get back on track. But just be aware that after that the updates will be significantly slower. Hopefully not by too much, but yeah. Just warning you.

Now, time to find out if you were right about the voice Merlin's been hearing...

Merlin watched the knights leave from the corner of his eye, leaning against the tree as he attempted to feign laid-back. He'd heard the whisper of his name throughout the night, making for even less sleep than usual, and by the early hours of the morning it had evolved into a call. A plea. And it broke Merlin's heart every time. This was more than just his imagination, and he intended to find out just what was going on. But this was one of those many times that he had to do something alone. Another secret that might reveal too much about himself. He couldn't very well do it hanging around five people who would go for his throat if they saw him use magic.

Not that he really thought… Well, it wasn't exactly the time to risk it.

Merlin counted to one hundred before going off on his own search. He could feel the pull, had sensed it since breakfast. Something - someone wanted him to find them. Merlin's focus zeroed in on that tug and blocked out all else. He didn't pay attention to where he was going or how far he was from the campsite. Only the pull, and the voice that was now chanting in his head, getting louder as he got closer.

Merlin.

Merlin!

"Merlin!"

Merlin froze and looked up from where he'd been staring at the ground as he walked. Arthur, Percival and Gwaine were all watching him, the former with a look of pure annoyance. "Uh… Hey."

"Hey? That's all you have for me, hey? I bloody knew it was too good to be true! My manservant actually obeying an order, oh we can't have that, can we? The whole damn world would flip upside down, god forbid!" Gwaine watched on, amused, as Arthur ranted. Percival simply shot Merlin a sympathetic look.

Hastily, the younger man cut in. "Arthur, calm down. I was just… hunting."

Arthur stared at him. "Hunting?"

"Yes, hunting! You keep complaining about how I should, so here I am, looking for something to feed you lot when you get back." Merlin rolled his eyes and continued "excuse me for trying to be helpful. I can promise it won't happen again, sire."

There was a moment of Arthur just continuing to stare at him in disbelief, until finally the regent said "well stay closer to the campsite, at least. I told you to stay there for a reason."

Merlin gave a mock bow and turned, reluctantly going back the way he'd come. Great. Now he actually had to catch something for them.

In the end he couldn't bring himself to kill the poor rabbit he'd caught (with a little magic cheating). The bugger had looked up with him with ridiculously sad eyes. Really, he didn't have a choice but to let it go.

Merlin did, however, gather together a bunch of roots and a handful of herbs from his pack to make a stew. He was stirring it absently over the fire when he finally heard his name again. The pull was much stronger this time, as if impatient, and Merlin had no qualms about picking back up on the trail immediately. Food forgotten, he dashed through the trees, this time glancing about him to make sure he didn't run into any more unwanted interruptions. His heart raced as his name was yelled over and over in his head, his feet almost tripping over themselves in his haste. Leaves crunched beneath his boots and he pushed branches out of his way, finally breaking into a run.

Eventually he saw a figure in the distance, and suddenly stopped, unsure. Hearing that voice again was exciting, exhilarating, but now that he was so close to the source, it was also terrifying.

The warlock crept forwards, blood pounding in his ears. He didn't stop until he was close enough to reach out and touch the other person. But he kept his arms by his sides and only stared, waiting for himself to wake up and it to have all been an impossible dream.

Standing there, smiling sadly at him, was Freya.

She looked healthier than he remembered. Her face was more rounded, her arms no longer representing pale twigs. Her skin was clean and she had more colour to her cheeks. Her dark hair fell across her shoulders, dark and thick and shining in the sun. But she still wore that same dress, a mirage of purple and blue that had suited her so well. Merlin could not tear his eyes away if he wanted to, and he didn't think he ever would. This was Freya. His Freya. She was here, she was…

She was dead. Freya was dead. Merlin took a step back and shook his head, trying to clear it. It was if someone had poured murky water into his head, his brain slow and sluggish.

"I've missed you so much, Merlin."

Merlin stared at her, shivering at those words. It was exactly her voice, exactly how he remembered it. But something about this… this wasn't right.

"Haven't you missed me, Merlin?"

"Every day." He had to move past what felt to be a sudden rock in his throat to answer. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, confirm that she was real. But something inside of him, something that felt suspiciously like his magic, was screaming at him to leave, to run away and not look back.

Her smile warmed with his answer and she stepped closer to him. "Were you lonely? Without me?" Her hand reached up, as if to cup his cheek. Merlin held his breath.

"I…"

"I was lonely." The hand dropped with her smile and she stepped back. "I've been so lonely since you left me."

Merlin stepped forward, unwilling to have that distance back so soon. "No Freya, I didn't leave you, I - "

"Yes you did," she hissed. All warmth had drained from her face. She looked angry and cold. "You left me to be attacked and cornered. Like an animal! You left me to die!"

Merlin could feel his heart shattering with every word. "Please Freya, I never meant for you to get hurt. I wanted to save you."

"You promised me," Freya said, her voice breaking, her face crumpling. "You promised you would protect me. We were going to go far away, and be together. Somewhere we could be accepted, be ourselves. Somewhere we could be safe, and not have to hide who we were." Her voice became impossibly small. "You promised me."

"I'm so sorry Freya," said Merlin. He felt weak and drained, half-sure he would collapse at any moment, and wholly not caring. "Please, please believe me. I wanted so badly for things to be different. Not a day goes by that I don't feel awful for not being able to protect you. Please Freya, I - I'm sorry!."

Freya took another step away from him, a sob escaping her. This was wrong, this was all so wrong…

Merlin froze. This was wrong. Freya was kind, Freya was loving and caring and… and Freya was dead.

This wasn't his Freya.

Merlin stumbled backwards and the woman, the imposter in front of him narrowed her eyes. Merlin's mind was still trying to wade through the muck suddenly weighing down his brain. There was something… something he was supposed to remember… about this forest, about why he was there.

"Are you leaving me again, Merlin?" Freya's - no, no not Freya, someone, something else's - voice had become dark and cold. "Are you really abandoning me again?"

Merlin shook his head wildly, yelling "shut up, shut up!" His hands tangled in his hair and he tried to concentrate. Why was he here? What was it about this forest..?

The banshee. He was here because they had been hunting a banshee.

"Do I mean nothing to you, Merlin?"

Banshees… they were creatures of magic. They lived off the souls of those they killed, they could get into your mind and…

The imposter was yelling at him now. "Who will you turn to without me? Your precious prince? He that would kill you if he knew the truth?"

They pretended to be the dead.

"Don't leave me, Merlin!"

They imitated the loved and lost of their victim.

"Merlin!"

It was a banshee here, now, yelling at him in the form of his beloved. A banshee was pretending to be his Freya.

With a shout of panic and sorrow Merlin's arm flew out and the banshee was thrown back, slamming into the trunk of a thick tree. It hissed at him and just as he readied himself for another attack, it vanished.

Merlin stared listlessly at the place it had been and slowly sank to his knees, feeling as if all his strength had disappeared with it. His entire frame trembled and he could feel the tears trailing down his cheeks but didn't care enough to wipe them away.

They agreed Leon should stay with Elyan by the fire while Lancelot went in search of their wayward servant. Stepping away from the campsite, he looked for signs of the clumsy warlock and quickly found a trail to follow. He thought back to the expression on Merlin's face that morning. It had been clear to him Merlin had the notion to do something reckless. Now, he simply hoped he hadn't made the wrong decision in leaving him to it. Lancelot didn't dare call out his friend's name so as not to alert any possible enemies, but he did soon pick up the pace.

A pained shout suddenly reached Lancelot's ears and he broke into a run. Finally seeing his friend - alone and on his knees, facing away from him and remaining completely still - he dashed over and knelt in front of him, searching for injuries.

"Merlin, what happened? Are you hurt?" Merlin's eyes were red and there were tear tracks down his face. He looked more like a lost boy than an all-powerful warlock. "Merlin, come on now, speak to me."

Slowly Merlin's gaze focused and he seemed to see Lancelot for the first time. "Wh… what are you doing here?"

"I've been looking for you. What's your excuse?" Lancelot retorted gently.

"I…" Merlin looked around them. "I was looking for something." Abruptly he stood, wiping his face clean, as if just realising what he'd been doing.

"The banshee?" Lancelot asked.

An odd look crossed Merlin's features at the mention but it was gone as quickly as it had been. "Yeah. I figured I could…" He took a deep breath. "I figured I could kill it."

"And did you?"

"Didn't find it." Merlin smiled sheepishly and turned in direction of the campsite.

"Then what - "

"How did you go? Any better luck?"

Lancelot frowned at the quick sidestep. What the hell had happened? And why was Merlin hiding it from him? "Yes, actually. It tried for Elyan, but I killed it." At this, Merlin paused and stared at Lancelot in shock. "What? I guess you don't need magic to kill it."

"Are you sure?" There was an urgency to Merlin's tone that Lancelot didn't understand. He scrutinised his friend carefully.

"Definitely. It's dead."

Merlin stared at him a moment longer before continuing to trek back to the others. "Oh," was all he said.

Lancelot followed him slowly, his mind whirring. There was something very obviously wrong here. And he had no idea how to help.

When Arthur returned to their camp with Gwaine and Percival it was to a shell-shocked Elyan, a wary Leon, a distracted Lancelot and Merlin being so quiet it was as if someone had died. Leon explained what had happened with the banshee away from where Elyan sat, staring into the coals of the now dead fire. It was a very bitter-sweet ending to their quest.

Arthur declared they would leave immediately after lunch, wanting to be home as soon as possible. There was a general air of agreement, everyone subdued by what the banshee had managed to do before Lancelot speared it with his sword.

It was within an hour of riding that Arthur realised something important. He had been quietly mulling over how to boost the morale of his men (and had thus far come up with nothing) and finally he realised why it was so difficult.

He remembered a few months back, when they'd been on a patrol to the southern border. It had gone sour when they'd happened across a serket nest. They had been swarmed from all sides and it had been a miracle they'd survived at all. A miracle in the form of boulders falling from the nearby cliff and crushing half of the monsters. Unfortunately, they did not escape completely unscathed.

Sir Reaver had been a good man, and an excellent knight. He had always fought hard, determined to prove himself even after he'd been given a position as a royal knight of Camelot. He had actually been pushing Percival out of the way when the serket struck him down.

Arthur had felt something in him break at the loss, and he knew the other knights felt the same way. There had been mourning, silent and stoic.

And then Merlin was talking, speaking of the time Reaver had begged him for a place to hide with the royal cook on his heels. It turned out he had been caught sneaking a snack out of the kitchens, and everyone knew you didn't want the cook catching you. She could be surprisingly terrifying for someone of her stature. Gwaine commented that he always knew he liked Reaver for a reason and suddenly the mood was lightened with laughter and reminisces of their fallen comrade.

It was not the only instance; Merlin was always lightening the mood one way or another, always turning a sombre situation into something a little less awful.

But not this time. Merlin remained studiously silent, riding right behind Arthur as always, seemingly gazing away into nothing as they travelled. There was no banter, no inspiring speech, no encouragement sent Elyan's way. Arthur had barely had to find ways to cheer his men up since Merlin appeared at his side all those years ago, and now, without that usual help, Arthur was at a loss.

"You look like you're about ready to fall off your horse there, Merlin."

Arthur turned back at the sound of Gwaine's voice, to see Merlin had indeed been leaning to the left precariously. At the mention of his name, Merlin shook his head as if clearing it and straightened up. "Just lost in thought, is all," he replied.

"That must be a first," Arthur muttered without thinking.

Not that he regretted it. Percival snickered and Elyan smiled and Merlin rolled his eyes - in effect, looking more like himself than he had all day.

"The way he treats you, Merlin, really," Gwaine piped up in a voice of mock-offence. "I wouldn't stand for it. You should quit."

Merlin scoffed. "He'd be dead within the week."

Ignoring Lancelot's sudden need to clear his throat, Arthur retorted "please. You're the one who couldn't even catch one lousy rabbit."

"I'm telling you, I had it in my hands!"

"Right, and you let it go," Arthur said skeptically. "And if that's true, it just makes you more of a girl than I thought."

"I'm sure it was especially cute," Elyan added and Arthur quickly turned forward to hide his grin. That was more like it. They were getting back on track.

Now maybe Merlin would stop sulking about whatever was wrong and get back to acting like Merlin.