It had been two years since Freya's death. Two years since Merlin's very best friend had sent her to it.
Merlin walked up to Arthur's chambers intending to ask for a day off. He hadn't planned a reason for it, as he needed this day and hoped that Arthur would realize that as much as he needed him to.
Walking through the doors with a fake cheery smile, he whipped the curtains away from the window and happily called, "Rise and shine my lord!"
A groan of displeasure was heard from underneath the covers, but about ten minutes later Arthur was begrudgingly sitting at the table with a plate of the finest breakfast foods Merlin could only dream of enjoying on a daily basis.
"My lord, if I may request the day off.." Merlin trailed off.
At this, Arthur sat more upright. It was rare Merlin outright requested the rest of the day to himself, far more often it was exactly the opposite and he insisted that he work even though he was clearly battling the urge to collapse out of pure exhaustion. He could see a face he rarely ever saw with Merlin occupying his servant's face, an expression of necessity. He was instantly curious. "Of course. May I ask why?"
Merlin cringed inwardly. "I just feel exhausted today, I think you would be better served with someone in their best health."
This only furthered Arthur's suspicion, but he feigned ignorance and simply replied, "Of course, I'll notify the warden you approved my request."
Arthur knew only vaguely who the warden was. 'The warden' was who the maids, butlers and servants reported to for assignments. Since Merlin was a servant to only one man, and didn't skip between nobles, he was often not in contact with the warden, so to bring up this matter to the warden it must be fairly important to him. He knew that the warden took the idea of discretion incredibly seriously and despite Arthur's authority would likely never tell what it was causing Merlin to so desperately require a day to himself, and admired that quality, but he also refused to simply let this go. Merlin was acting entirely out of character and, although if asked Arthur would never admit it, he was beginning to worry for his servant that perhaps he was sick, or involved in something unfortunate. He resolved that he would follow Merlin to his undisclosed destination.
So when a bit later after Merlin met with the warden to confirm his allowance to leave his post early, Merlin did not return immediately home as Arthur had presumed he would, Arthur began to suspect he was right, and Merlin's intentions were not as they seemed.
He followed the young servant outside Camelot into the woods, and even further still. By the time he truly noticed the time it was sundown, and yet Merlin had still not reached his destination. To be entirely frank, he was walking at the pace of an injured tortoise.
Finally the trees opened up to reveal a clearing, decorated by tall snow-topped mountains and shining waters of a beautiful lake. Wild strawberries grew closeby, and although they were clearly not the sort one bought at a market, they seemed to have been planted there intentionally.
Merlin sat in front of one particularly unique rock, one with a delicate and yet prominent carving atop it with a word Arthur could not really make out and surrounded by flowers which had also been planted by a human hand. Arthur feared he knew what he was looking at: it was a grave.
As if confirming his suspicions Merlin began to sniffle, gentle whimpers and sobs occupying the silence broken only by the occasionally song of a bird whose notes sounded as though they were sad as well. Arthur wanted nothing more than to run and comfort his young servant - to ask what happened and to protect him from whatever sadness seemed to be overtaking him, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to walk to the broken boy, to truly confront the fact that the one who had ensured Arthur's every whim was honored was hurting so deeply inside, had lost someone dear to him and Arthur had never bothered to notice.
After a while Merlin's broken sobs trailed off into nothingness as the boy fell asleep. Arthur quietly walked behind him to read the inscription on the stone.
To my Freya,
My only love,
My only light.
May you rest among a lake,
a mountain,
and the strawberries we never got the chance to grow together.
Arthur understood now. Merlin had been in love, and his love had passed. But the name on the tablet seemed familiar, something he could not quite place.
He walked back to the sides of the clearing and gathered a few wildflowers he saw nearby, tying them together with a vine and placing them gently in front of the stone marking Freya's resting place, careful not to disturb his servant. He grabbed the blanket Merlin had brought presumably for a picnic with his lost love and pulled it over Merlin so he'd be warm, setting off back to Camelot afterwards, not able to bear the sight of the tear tracks littering the boy's face. He'd never really noticed just how young Merlin looked.
Gaius awoke to a knock at the door late at night, which he responded to, shocked to see the King of Camelot himself standing before him in the doorway.
"My lord, what can I do for you?"
"Good evening Gaius, I apologize for the intrusion at this late hour. I needed to know if you knew who someone named Freya was, urgently."
Gaius frowned. "Why yes, sire. That was the identity of the young girl who transformed into a panther and wreaked havoc over the city over a year ago. Why do you ask?"
Arthur felt the realization hit him and did not hide his shock. "No reason.. Thank you Gaius." He quickly rushed back to his room, recalling the terrifying truth that it was he, Arthur Pendragon, who had delivered the killing blow to Merlin's love.
The next morning Arthur heard a familiar voice sound next to him. "Rise and shine!" It called, as usual dramatically drawing back the curtains to awaken the sleeping lump that was Arthur. He recalled the events of yesterday, however, and instead of quickly responding with his usual groan of exasperation, he got out of bed without complaint.
"Wow, I didn't expect that from you. Have you hit your head?" Merlin asked playfully. Arthur scowled, which he supposed was what he usually did anyways, but for a different reason. Why was Merlin acting so casually? He was clearly in pain. Why did he hide it from him?
It was only as Merlin was leaving that Arthur noticed how fake Merlin's smile looked, and then realized that after a certain while that fake looking one had entirely replaced the real one from Merlin.
A glimmer of a tear seemed to shine in Merlin's eyes as he exited Arthur's quarters that day, and it was then Arthur resolved to find out how to help Merlin.