Greetings Readers! Here is the latest chapter - I hope you enjoy it!

A/N: Thanks to CaptainOzone, beta of betas, and to jaqtkd for all of her help. And also to Carmen, who helped me find the solution to Merlin's conundrum at the end. You'll see. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

Thanks for all of your help. My sister is out of the hospital now, but she's still pretty weak and needs somebody around to help her and take care of the baby. Their house is closer to uni, anyway. I really appreciate you letting me rent with you.

Cheers!

Mrs. Gregory sniffed as she read the handwritten note on her table. There hadn't been a lot of warning that her boarder was leaving, besides the muted clink of her shoe stepping on the key tucked securely under the doormat, and she regretted the chance to say goodbye to the boarder and the lovely baby.

The phone rang shrilly from on the wall next to the sink and Mrs. Gregory got up to answer it. "Hello?"

"Mum?" her son said, on the other end. "Remember Chloe – she came to the house for last Christmas? Well," he suddenly sounded very shy, just as he had when he was seven and sharing a beautiful shell he'd found on the beach of Dover, "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

"Oh!" Mrs. Gregory gasped. "That's wonderful, she's such a lovely girl! How are you going to ask her?"

She talked with her son for the next hour, alternately squealing and tearing up with joy, and the note lay on the table, forgotten.

~.~

The train lurched forward and the teenage girl jolted from her seat, one hand grabbing for the armrest and the other tightening around the child lying across her lap. She looked down at the child, who stirred restlessly before settling back down. The girl let out a relieved sigh and sank into the soft, worn cushion, turning to look outside to watch the world sweep by. A few scattered people remained on the tiny platform, waving goodbye to those they were seeing off on the train. But there was no one for the girl and her baby.

Footsteps creaked on the floor of the train compartment's aisle, and the girl looked up to see an older couple walking by. She smiled tremulously as their eyes landed on her, holding the baby close to her. The woman's eye swept over the girl's skinny form, the shabbiness of her jacket, the thinning knees of her jeans, and the infant on her lap. She sniffed disapprovingly before sweeping on her way, her grip tightening on the crook of her husband's elbow. The girl's tentative smile slipped, and a lock of long black hair fell onto her face as she withdrew into herself, her legs almost clenching on the edge of the seat.

Merlin shook his head and tried to look back out the window, holding Arthur close as he stared out the window into the countryside speeding past, his reflection looking back at him. He pulled the lock of hair away from his face and rubbed it between his thumb and pointer finger curiously. He had taken many disguises over the past many years, but he hadn't attempted being a woman since he pretended to be the Dolma.

At least, not attempted to be through the use of transfigurative magic. As the countryside outside the window began to blur with the speed of the train, Merlin's mind traveled back to the first time he'd been talked into women's clothing after the Dolma.

He'd traveled to London into the theatre district and had seen a flier outside one of it. At that point in time, Merlin had found himself in several kinds of jobs, but he hadn't tried his hand at being an actor yet. And so he'd walked inside and within moments had been shaking hands with a man called Shakespeare, who had squinted thoughtfully and said that, with the proper wig, Merlin would make a proper Anne.

By no stretch of the imagination could Merlin hope that that was a male's name.

The build he'd given himself before entering London had been very similar to the build he'd had as a young man walking into Camelot for the first time. Tall but slender with high cheekbones—apparently his more delicate physique had so closely resembled a girl's that the Shakespeare fellow had been convinced he'd play the character well. Merlin had been a bit flustered and surprised, but the idea of having a job so soon after entering London had been satisfying. Besides, the idea of putting on several different faces, especially without the pressure that pretending to be something he wasn't when he had lived in Camelot, had been intriguing.

So that had been how he found himself wearing a black wig, forced to come into contact with a vengeful, cruel king while spitting insults and witty comments at him. After living in Uther's kingdom for so long, and then never hesitating to shoot Arthur snarky comments, it hadn't a terribly unfamiliar situation. It would have been perfect, actually, if not for the damned wig.

Merlin hadn't been too sure of his welcome by the company, since a lot of them had known each other for a while before he'd arrived, but he had been pleasantly surprised. It had been good, being a part of the acting troupe. There had always been something new to learn, something different to laugh about, and people had always been around. He could go out and carouse after an intoxicatingly well-received performance or sit morosely at the bar as a friend, overwhelmed by expectation, frustration, or life, sought relief at the bottom of the tankard. At times, he had wondered if Shakespeare had ever sought plotlines while sitting at the eternally sticky bar of the pub closest to the theater. Not soon after he'd been mentioning the eternal troubles he'd had to bail his friend out of, referring to the love triangle his friend had been forced into through the influence of love juice, Shakespeare had written A Midsummer Night's Dream. Which also had love triangles. Deliberated by the application of love juice.

Shakespeare had never quite been able to meet his eyes when he had brought up the similarities, which made the others of the company laugh boisterously.

Merlin had also had his own sorrowful moments where he struggled to find peace; one of which had been beside the Bard himself. It had been a day when all of Merlin's years weighed painfully on his shoulders, and he'd murmured drunkenly, ad nauseam, of his exhaustion. Even as Shakespeare had sympathetically clapped him on the shoulder, his eyes had sparkled and gleamed as the words and staging began to knit together smoothly in his mind.

It had taken Merlin to recognize his words in the script he had been given when the troupe had clambered onto the stage where the beginnings of a royal hall had been constructed. It had been one of the few times he had been a male – and the lead at that – and he had begun with the soliloquy.

His voice had caught slightly in his throat as he began to speak the words, ensconced in a garb that had a more poetic feeling but also had felt as genuinely raw as the words he had whispered hoarsely into the cacophony of the bar:

To be, or not to be-that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep-
No more-and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-
To sleep-perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.

As he had finished, he had looked over at the playwright, curious about why he'd taken those words and had given him the role without telling him first. But the words had died in his throat as he had seen the tears misting in the other's eyes and the slight stooping of his shoulders. Merlin had glanced down at the piece of parchment in his hand, his eyes skimming the words to see the character's name. As he had read the words, his heart had panged with sympathy, and he had understood. Hamlet.

Shakespeare had buried his son Hamnet earlier that year.

Merlin's performance, especially of the soliloquy, had been well-received. Some of Shakespeare's more vocal patrons had heartily congratulated the playwright on the play and his choice of the lad to play Hamlet. The young man, tall and thin and pensive in the lone light, had spoken with an age and a poignant wisdom that had been beyond his years. Merlin had felt pride mixed with sorrow at their praise –- although the praise for his performance had been enough to keep him from being cast as Olivia in Twelfth Night. He couldn't even have been the woman who pretended to be a man?

It would be only fair, after having to pretend the opposite for all those performances…

The train rattled over a rough bit of track, starting Merlin from his thoughts and he looked out the window as the blurring of the world outside began to slow. Holding Arthur close, he leaned forward, his eyes squinting through the glass at their destination. "We're here," he whispered to the slumbering infant. Too soon, his mind sighed wistfully, but he ignored it.

~.~

The night was growing dark as the teenager walked down the street, the tightly wrapped bundle held close to her chest. She heard a deep rumble that she first thought was her stomach growling, but then she saw the sharp crack of lightning overhead. The icy pelt of rain soon followed, and she gave a disgruntled exclamation before shoving the hem of her hoodie up and placing the bundle carefully between her hoodie and shirt. With one arm cradling the bulge beneath her hoodie, her other hand held a piece of paper close to her face and she squinted at the rapidly soaking notepaper. The girl let out an angry exclamation as the ink began to leak through and let the paper fall into a wet heap on the pavement. A car rushed past, zooming through the gathering puddles at the sides of the street, sending waves of muddy water onto the young woman.

She slipped and fell, taking care to land on her side and back rather than on her stomach and groaned. A man two houses down from where she fell looked up from where he was rushing up the walk to his home and stopped. Carrying a large umbrella in one hand, he came over and knelt beside her, the water soaking through the fine linen of his trousers. "Miss, are you all right?"

The girl nodded and winced. The man thought she was about to check on her scraped forearm which was beginning to ooze blood, but instead she brought both arms to cradle the bundle at her front, which was beginning to stir. The man leaned forward, a question in his eyes, but froze as he heard a petulant, confused wail issuing from the bundle. The girl looked up, a light blush forming on her face, and sneezed.

The man frowned. That settled it. "Here," he said, standing up and holding both his arms out, letting the umbrella slip to the ground, "let's get you up."

The girl extended her injured arm to him while cradling the quietly crying bundle with the other and, taking care to avoid brushing her scrape, the man pulled her to her feet. "Do you have anywhere to stay?"

The girl looked down and shook her head. "No, we don't."

"Come along, then," the man began, reaching down for the umbrella and holding it over the young girl's head, "I live right here. We can get you both warm, and you look like you could use a good meal."

The girl's arms tightened reflexively around the bundle, and the man hastened to assure her. "You'll be perfectly safe. My wife's here, too…"

"Thank you." The girl gave a quavering smile. "That sounds…nice."

The man shifted his briefcase to the hand holding the umbrella and held it over the girl, his arm around her shoulders steadying her as they hurried up the slick pavestones. When they got to the door, he put down the briefcase and handed the girl the umbrella before knocking on the door. "Isabel," he called out, "can you let me in?"

There was a muffled sound of approaching footsteps, punctuated by an amused laugh. "Forget your key again, Edward?" a feminine voice answered, "I swear, you'd forget your head if it wasn't—"

The door opened, and light streamed out into the rainy darkness, silhouetting the golden-haired laughing woman inside. "Oh!" she exclaimed with surprise as she saw the bedraggled young girl next to her husband, "Oh dear." She looked at her husband, "Is she all right?"

The young girl nodded and sneezed, and the man took off his hat, guiding the girl closer to the light and warmth. "I found her just outside. Barnes rushed by and got the poor girl soaking wet. She's got nowhere else to go."

The woman's eyebrows knit with disapproval. "Oh, that man," she huffed. "He really needs to be more careful. Rushing about on a night like tonight – what if any of the neighborhood kids had been out there? He could have crashed!" She smiled at the girl, "Come on in, dear, and I'll get you some warmer clothes."

It was when the girl was ushered into the warmth of the front hall that the plaintive cries could be heard more clearly, and the woman's eyes drifted to the bundle in the hoodie before widening. "Oh," she said comprehendingly, "we'd better make sure to get that one warm, too."

~.~

Merlin sat, blinking disbelievingly at what had occurred, on the soft cushion of the Penningtons' couch. He wore a sweatshirt and jogging bottoms borrowed from Mrs. Pennington, and was wrapped in a blanket. He looked down at the mug of hot chocolate he was gripping with both hands and lifted it to his lips, savoring the warm, soothing taste. He hadn't realized he had been so close to his destination, he'd been too occupied in staring through the darkness to the other house numbers and keeping Arthur magically dry from the sudden downpour to notice the car rushing by or the man hurrying up the path ahead. It was a real stroke of luck that Mr. Pennington had seen him…Merlin felt warmth enter his very soul as he looked at the couple bustling around the kitchen, looking for something warm and filling for the baby. They were just as good as they'd appeared in his vision.

"Do you need any help?" he called.

"Not just yet," Mrs. Pennington answered. "You just keep getting warm, Mary, and dinner should be ready soon."

"Thank you," Merlin whispered, his heart panging with the goodness of these people, and he put down the mug on the coaster in front of him. He reached over to where Arthur was gently snoozing in the makeshift crib of blankets and pillows on the cushion beside him, brushing his fingers against the smooth forehead. "They're the ones," he whispered, "I'm sure of it."

Arthur continued to sleep on, and Merlin looked around the room. The living room was small, but cozy, with red walls and gold trim. There was a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, sending tendrils of warmth throughout the room. Paintings adorned the walls, but they were in casual or well-loved frames, treated more like something to be enjoyed rather than something too treasured to be touched. The whole room spoke of warmth and money, but it had a lived in feel that felt like a home. His friend would be properly cared for here, Merlin thought, but moreover, he would be loved.

Even as Merlin felt the baby's fingers tighten over his thumb, the ache of the soon parting eased a little with the knowledge that he would be leaving Arthur with these people.

"Here you are," Mrs. Pennington smiled warmly, sliding a plate piled with food on the coffee table in front of Merlin before sitting beside her. "This should fill you up."

"Thanks," Merlin's grateful smile faded when he saw the otherwise empty table, "but what about you?"

"I've got it," Mr. Pennington said as he left the kitchen, two plates of food balanced on his arms, "since Izzy couldn't be bothered to get her own food."

"Might as well make you good for something," Mrs. Pennington teased, kissing her husband on the cheek as he put their food down on the table and drew a recliner closer to the couch to sit on. "Thank you."

Mr. Pennington kissed her back and gave a bark of laughter as he settled onto his recliner and pulled his food toward him. "I'm sorry," he said as the two women followed suit and began to eat, "but we don't have anything for your little guy to eat. I can go out and grab something when he wakes up."

"Oh," Merlin said, putting down his plate and reaching down for the sodden knapsack, "that's okay, I have some in here." He dug around in the bag for a few moments before extracting a bottle and a can of powdered formula. "Here!"

"But nothing for yourself…" Mrs. Pennington said with a sad smile. "Please, eat."

Merlin smiled and pulled the plate back into his lap. "Thanks." He began to calmly eat, and pretended not to notice the concerned looks husband and wife were shooting each other. "Those paintings are lovely," he said, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. "Where did you get them?"

"I painted them," Mrs. Pennington replied with a modest smile.

"Izzy's a professional artist," Mr. Pennington replied, rubbing his wife's shoulder, "and an excellent one, if I say so myself."

"Edward," Mrs. Pennington flushed, pushing him lightly so that he fell back into the chair.

"It's true," he grinned almost rakishly, "Izzy's too modest; I have to do all the bragging for her. Besides," he added, "with me being a solicitor, one of us has be artsy to balance out the incredible boredom of the law."

Mrs. Pennington laughed and shook her head. "Nonsense. You love what you do, and you know it."

Mr. Pennington shrugged, and Merlin smiled. "That's nice," he replied.

They ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes before Arthur began to stir, murmuring fretfully. Merlin put down his nearly empty plate and drew Arthur into his arms, steadying the baby's head in the crook of his arm. "Shh, go back to sleep, Arthur."

Arthur shifted another moment before settling comfortably back into slumber.

"How old is he?" Mrs. Pennington asked.

"Just over a month," Merlin said as he shifted Arthur into a more comfortable position. "I think he's a bit small for his age, though."

"Where –" Mr. Pennington began, and then collected himself. "What about the father? Is he-?"

Merlin rubbed a thumb against Arthur's cheek. "He died," he said slowly. "It was an accident and the person who killed him didn't mean to…but he's still gone."

Mrs. Pennington's hands drew up to her mouth, and she moved closer to the young girl. "What of your parents?"

Merlin blinked hard. Even after all the years, the loss of his parents made his eyes sting. "They're gone, too." He closed his eyes and held the baby tight. "He's all I have now."

Placing a hand around the teenager's shoulders, Mrs. Pennington pulled her close. "Mary," she began almost nervously, "how old are you?"

Merlin picked at the hem of the sweatshirt. "Eighteen."

For a moment, it looked like Isabel was going to push a little further, but Arthur took up the center of attention as he blinked away his sleepiness and began wiggling in Merlin's arms. He reached up both arms towards Merlin, clearly wanting to play. "Let me take these," Mrs. Pennington said, giving her husband a thoughtful look as she reached for the plates, "and wash them up. I'll be right back."

"I'll help," Merlin said, starting to shift the blanket from his legs so he could stand up.

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"Please," Merlin replied, "I want to do something to thank you."

"Well, all right."

Merlin turned to Mr. Pennington. "Would you mind," he asked shyly, "looking after him? I promise he'll be good. He just wants to play."

Mr. Pennington's eyes were warm as he nodded, gently taking the baby from Merlin's arms. "Certainly," he replied, looking Arthur straight in the eye. "Us men have to stick together, don't we?"

Arthur laughed, and both women smiled as they left Mr. Pennington to make funny faces at the baby.

Merlin leaned against the counter as Mrs. Pennington began to run hot water in the sink, watching the steam rise with a satisfied air before pouring a liberal amount of Fairy liquid into the water. As the bubbles began to form, she turned to the younger woman with a smile and pulled a dishtowel from the drawer beneath the sink. "Would you like to dry, then?" she asked.

Merlin smiled and took the towel from her. "Sure," he smiled. "Thank you so much for letting us stay. I really didn't want to go out into the rain again."

Mrs. Pennington took a deep breath as she slid the dishes into the hot, soapy water and began to wash up. "It's no trouble; but why were you out there in the first place?"

The younger girl took the damp plate from where Mrs. Pennington had left it in the dry half of the sink and looked at it thoughtfully before beginning to dry it with slow strokes. "I was trying to find a place to go. Some place where I might be able to find a job to support us."

"You seem to be taking very good care of Arthur," Mrs. Pennington began encouragingly. "He looks so well fed." She ran a surreptitious eye over the painfully thin young woman and frowned thoughtfully. "But how about you, Mary?"

Merlin shrugged and stared at the glass he pulled out of the sink. "I do all right. I just need to figure out where we're going next."

"Is there no one in particular you can go to?"

Merlin snorted slightly as he dried the glass. "My parents were all the family had, and now that Arthur's dad is gone, I can't go to him either. There's really no one of my old friends who can help me; they're all busy with other things. Probably forgotten about me by now."

Isabel's eyes softened even more. "Mary…"

A fit of baby laughter, surrounded by a hearty chuckle, filled the air, and both women leaned over the kitchen counter to look into the living room where Edward was holding Arthur aloft in the air. He was bouncing the baby up and down, who was shrieking with joy and waving a rattle Merlin had not seen before like a pennant. Merlin smiled at the sight, and there was the feeling in his mind of the pieces starting to fall into place. "They're getting along so well. He's great with kids, isn't he?"

He turned to smile at Isabel, but he stopped in surprise at the almost broken look on her face. Merlin quickly ran over the words he'd said in his head, and then cursed himself. Not the best thing to say to a woman who wants kids but doesn't have any…yet. "Mrs. Pennington," he began nervously, "are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," she said hastily, grabbing for a piece of paper towel from the roll beside the sink and dabbing at her eyes with it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You don't have to be sorry," Merlin smiled. "What is it?"

"We've—" Mrs. Pennington took a deep breath, "—we've been trying to have a baby ever since a year after we got married. A few months ago, we found out that…that we couldn't have any children. Endometriosis," she half-whispered, as though it were a shameful thing. "Since then, we've been trying to adopt a child, but it's going to take time."

Merlin stepped forward and gave the woman a hug, who shuddered a little in his hold before hugging him tightly back. He squeezed her shoulders in a comforting way and the two pulled back to smile sheepishly at each other. Mrs. Pennington opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a persistent wail. The two poked their heads around the kitchen wall to see Mr. Pennington rocking Arthur back and forth in his arms. "Think the little guy's hungry," he said as he saw the women.

"Oh," Merlin exclaimed, before sprinting to his knapsack and grabbing the formula and a bottle. He rushed back to the kitchen with both in hand, but Mrs. Pennington stopped him, gently removing the items from his hand.

"I'll take care of it, you go see to Arthur."

Merlin walked carefully back into the living room and sat down on the couch beside Mr. Pennington. With great care, Mr. Pennington rocked the wailing baby a few times before placing him in Merlin's arms, making sure that Arthur's head was supported before letting go. Merlin began to shush the hungry infant, humming soothingly and rocking him, even as the mantra began to play in his head. This feels right, this feels like your home. This family seems right, this feels like your home.

"Here you are," Mrs. Pennington said briskly as she hurried in an almost sedate manner to the couch, holding the warmed bottle of formula in her hand.

"Would you—?" Merlin blushed slightly. "Would you like to? Feed him, I mean."

Mrs. Pennington blinked twice in surprise before a poignant smile spread across her face. "I would love to."

Merlin took the bottle Mrs. Pennington was still holding out in front of him and placed it on the coffee table. He waited for her to sit down next to her husband and got up from his spot on the couch. Kneeling carefully before her, he shifted the calmer but still fussing baby into her arms, and passed her the warm bottle. His heart thudded in his chest while he watched Mrs. Pennington smile down at Arthur as the baby began to suck on his bottle. Her face crinkled in a blissful smile, and Mr. Pennington leaned closer and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, looking down tenderly at the baby.

Merlin's breath caught in his throat. These are the ones.

Immediately the ecstatic feeling coursing through his blood was tinged with slight bitterness, and he had to blink back the sharpness in his eyes. He was about to say goodbye, again, and after the years of waiting, he didn't know if his heart could bear it. But it wasn't as though he'd be far away – Arthur would be safe and happy with this family. They would care for him and show him the love that a father shackled by the Crown never fully could.

"Mary?" Mrs. Pennington said with some concern, and Merlin broke out of his stupor to look at both husband and wife looking at him with worry in their glances. "Are you all right?"

Merlin nodded but allowed the tears to slip down his face. "I don't – I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Merlin swallowed hard, "that I don't think I can do this anymore. I've tried to do what's best for him – but I'm nothing but trouble for him. Nothing."

"Nonsense," Mr. Pennington barked in a reassuring tone. "You're his mother, and you love him."

"That doesn't keep him warm at night or keep him from getting sick," Merlin muttered with frustration. "I don't think I'm able to take care of him anymore." Tears started with greater fervor at the corners of his eyes. "But I don't want to let him go…I don't want to say goodbye."

"Isn't there something you could do?"

Merlin cradled his face in his hands. "I've tried," he sighed, "but I'm not good for him. I'm not. He deserves better. I don't know what to do." He groaned. "I almost thought of adoption, but – I don't trust those people. I hear all the scary stories of what happen to children who go through that system. I don't want that to happen to Arthur."

Mr. Pennington patted her on the shoulder. "I'm sure that's not what happens – Izzy and I are trying to adopt, and we're not scary demons or anything."

"I know," Merlin sniffed, "and you're all right. If I knew he was going to people like you—" His eyes lit up and he shot into a sitting position, looking as though an idea had just hit him although it was anything but spontaneous. "That's it!"

"What is it?" Mrs. Pennington asked curiously, speaking softly to not awaken the sleeping Arthur.

"You could adopt him!"

"What?"

Both of the Penningtons' eyes lit up, and they leaned forward, only to lean back, their faces creasing with disappointment. "Mary," Mr. Pennington began sensibly, "we can't. There are rules to follow and we can't just choose your child. Not without the father's consent –"

"But he's –"

"I know."

Merlin bit the corner of his mouth. "Couldn't you just…pretend he's yours?" He sat up eagerly. "Yeah, I've read all about it. A family can claim a child is theirs when they register him, even if the baby is someone else's! That way, Arthur can stay with you."

"Mary," Mrs. Pennington replied, "this is a big decision. We would love to have Arthur—" Mr. Pennington nodded beside her—"but wouldn't you like to think about it for a while first? We wouldn't want you to make a decision you would regret later."

"I wouldn't," Merlin looked down at his feet. "He deserves better than me. And you're nice…I can trust you to take care of him and love him. He'll be happy with you."

"Are you sure?"

"More than anything." Merlin swiped at the moisture trailing down his cheeks. "I'm not what's best for him. I'd be nothing but trouble. He'd be better without me."

"Oh, Mary…"

Merlin looked them both in the eyes. "I'm sure."

~.~

The four of them stood outside the courthouse, Merlin cradling Arthur closely to his chest. The papers had been filled out, and Arthur was now registered as Arthur Pennington. He was going to have a family that would love him, and Merlin would continue to watch over and protect him, like he always had.

He had to take a deep breath to remind himself that this wouldn't hurt as badly as losing Arthur the first time.

"Mary…" Mr. Pennington started, but Mrs. Pennington shushed him.

"Leave her be for a moment. It's hard to say goodbye to someone you love."

Merlin squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

The air around the lake was silent, save for the baleful hoot of an owl and the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. But then the muted clopping of horse's hooves began to seep into the air, followed by the whisper of a cloak skimming the grass. There was also the faintest murmur of a man and a woman's voices, but it receded into nothingness, even as the muted trotting grew louder.

Merlin lifted a branch up before pushing it out of the way so he could lead Gwen's horse beneath it. Gwen whispered her thanks, but her eyes remained riveted on the water opening up before them and her arms brought the sleeping Alfred closer to her. Merlin nodded in response, but he blinked fiercely and the grip on the horse's reins tightened.

After stopping at a tree closest to the shore, Merlin halted the horse and tied its reins to the trunk. He took Alfred carefully from Gwen's arms and helped her to bring her legs to the left side of the horse. He handed the baby back and, placing his hands on both sides of her waist, lifted her down. Gwen wobbled for a moment, still a bit weak from giving birth a fortnight earlier, but she soon steadied herself on Merlin's arm. Placing an arm around his friend's shoulders, Merlin slowly steered her towards the lake, feeling the sudden catches in her breath and squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

They stopped walking when they reached the water, the waves brushing Merlin's cape and dampening the hem of Gwen's dress. "Gwen," Merlin began, his throat tightening, "this is the place."

Gwen swiped away the tears beginning to fall with the hand not holding Alfred, and her damp fingers tightened around Merlin's hand. "Thank you," she said, holding Alfred tight. The baby awoke at the increasing pressure and opened his eyes, fussing a little at his interrupted sleep. Gwen bounced him back into calmness and then sank to her knees on the wet dirt, not caring as the water and mud soaked through her skirts. "Alfred," she began, turning the baby and holding him so he could see over the water, "this is where your father is. Arthur-" her voice cracked, and her shoulders began to shake, "-this is your son."

Merlin pressed a hand on her shoulder…but then backed away to give her some privacy. He picked his way around the rim of the shore, making sure not to go too far from Gwen in case she needed him, his eyes focusing on the tower out in the distance.

"Merlin."

He turned towards the source of the voice, who was emerging smoothly from the depths of the lake. She looked beautiful and calming as she always did, although the gaze in her eyes was more sorrowful than usual, sending a warm feeling through his body. "Hello, Freya."

She moved closer to the lake's edge, making as little noise as possible to keep from disturbing Gwen. Merlin carefully entered the water until they were face-to-face and put his arms around her. Freya wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, running a hand soothingly through his hair as he began to shudder. The touch sent sparks through his blood and Merlin pulled away enough to take her hand in his, brushing kisses on the tips of her fingers. Freya's cheeks flushed, her eyes brightening, and Merlin took her chin in his hand and brought his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

The warmth of her skin and the sweetness of her lips grounded Merlin, and he increased the pressure, craving the sensation like a drowning man craved air. Freya responded by returning her hand to his hair, running her fingers to the scalp at the nape of his neck and massaging it.

An exuberant babbling to their right broke them from their embrace, and they turned to see Alfred clapping his hands and Gwen smiling at them, half-blushing and half-smirking. "Gwen," Merlin coughed, almost nervously, "this is Freya."

"Oh," Gwen replied, starting to sit up, "it's good to meet you—"

"No need to stand, your Highness," Freya assured her as she began to walk over to the kneeling woman, Merlin falling closely behind. Freya sat down in the water opposite Gwen, leaning closer to get a better look at Alfred, who was regarding her with a curious gaze. "Oh, he's beautiful."

"Thank you," Gwen said. "Would you like to…?"

Freya held out her arms. "Please."

Baby Alfred was resituated into Freya's arms, and he blinked up curiously at the lady with the long brown hair. "Hello, sweetheart," Freya crooned at the baby. She looked up at Gwen. "Thank you for letting me hold him. I don't know how many people would let a stranger do that."

"You're hardly a stranger," Gwen said. "Merlin's told me about you." Her face fell slightly. "I'm sorry for what happened—that my husband—"

Freya smiled reassuringly. "It's all right. What's done is done, and I know he did it to protect his home." She put out one hand and placed it on Gwen's arm. "I'm sorry for what you've lost."

Gwen nodded with a watery smile and looked down at the ground for several moments, Freya's touch never leaving her arm. "Does it—" Gwen whispered. "Does it ever get better?"

"You'll always feel it," Freya replied. "It always hurts to say goodbye to those you love." She cast a longing glance at Merlin who smiled a little shakily at her. Quietly, she beckoned him over and handed him the baby so that she could focus on Gwen. Merlin took Alfred and waded away into the water, trying to give the women their privacy.

Gwen's muffled tears tore at his heart, and he held the baby securely as he waded further into the waters, closer to Alfred's father. "Your father was a good man," he said quietly to the baby. "A prat, but a good man. I wish he were here to see you grow up. But," he swallowed hard, "you'll always have me."

He looked towards the tower. "I promise you that."

Merlin brought his friend close, and kissed his forehead. "Goodbye, you prat," he whispered, "I'll be around in case you need me. I promise."

Mrs. Pennington walked forward, her face concerned, and Merlin pasted on a smile that he was sure fooled no one. "He's all yours, mum."

"What are you going to do? Can we help you in any way?"

"No, no," Merlin said, shaking his head as he backed away, "there's nothing."

"Please," Mr. Pennington pressed, "we want to do something for—"

"Mr. Edward Pennington?" an officious member of the courthouse called, drawing both the Pennington's attention as he came down the stairs.

"Yes?"

"You forgot to sign one last paper. We need it finished before you all can go home."

"All right," Mr. Pennington replied, turning back to Merlin, "we just needed to say goodbye to—"

The place where the teenage girl had been standing was empty. She was nowhere in sight.

A small hawk sat on a branch of the tree shading the walkway of the courthouse, watching as the man and woman with the baby deliberated for several minutes before going back inside. The baby turned in his mother's arms and looked at the bird, and for a moment there seemed to be realization in the blue eyes. But he slipped into a comfortable doze in the safety of his mother's hold, and no one looked in the direction of the hawk.

The hawk watched the door for a long time, and finally, with a cry that was part satisfaction and part mournful, it took off and soared into the sky.

A/N: And there you are! I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy and can help my writing improve!