Battle scarred heart

By Roguefan212000

I don't own Merlin.

Author`s note - The story takes place after season four.

Merlin knew Gwen would give birth soon, but an unexplainable sense of intuition nagged at him, drawing the court warlock away from the mid wives filling the chambers and toward his beloved mentor, Gaius. The well-respected physician was growing older, slower and his eyes, always alight with wisdom, began to dim. He entered the chambers to find Gaius lying on his bed breathing shallowly and looking incredibly frail. Perhaps he had fallen under the weather again, Merlin thought, whatever troubled him couldn't be too serious. The warmth of healing magic tingled in his finger tips as he took a seat beside the man who was his father in everyway but blood. Gaius turned to look at him.

"My dear boy, you should be with Gwen", he said softly.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," the younger man replied.

"I've weathered through many a great storm," the old man said, "I'll be fine."

The unsettled feeling in Merlin's chest didn't go away when he left Gaius' chambers and raced back toward Gwen, unaware that this would be the last time they would ever speak. When Aria Pendragon took her very first breath in a world that was new to her, the old physician breathed his last. As fireworks sounded off in the autumn night as Camelot's citizens celebrated the birth of their princess, Merlin sat alone in his chambers, lost in grief. He pushed the wine filled goblet on the table aside, not being one to drown his sorrows with drink, and gazed numbly at the dying flames in the fireplace.

When the night grew still once more, he left the castle, riding off into the darkness without a true destination in mind; wind swept away his falling tears as he lightly kicked his horse's sides and urged the mare on. The horse and her rider entered a forest clearing that led to the Lake of Avalon. On Avalon's moonlit shores, the court warlock wept for all he was worth.

In the following months –

As Merlin walked through the hallway he heard laughter echoing from the partially opened door of Arthur's chambers and an infant's coo could be heard above the laughter of her parents. He smiled slightly at the sound, spying the curly haired infant on her father's knee as she bobbed up and down with a toothless smile as Gwen sat beside them smiling. She glanced up, noticing Merlin outside, and invited him inside to join them for lunch. He politely declined, mentioning he had a few errands to do.

He smiled weakly at them; he did not begrudge their happiness. They had grieved for Gaius just as he had; the beloved physician had given him a funeral worthy of a loyal servant to the Pendragon crown. Although he felt out of place at times, his heartache did not diminish the genuine happiness he felt for his friends and the baby princess had captured Merlin's heart the moment that her tiny hand had grasped his thumb.

Seeing them together caused him to remember a time when he had felt such happiness, and a pretty druid girl wearing a tattered dress fluttered through his mind. Just like all the loved ones he had lost throughout his life, Freya had broken his heart too. He missed her terribly; she was a stolen moment of happiness cherished among few others.

As he went to sleep that night, he tried not to think about the empty space in his bed or how his chambers seemed too large for one man. From that moment on, Merlin spent countless nights reading ancient texts written in various languages, barely eating or sleeping, which made his friends worry for his health.

One morning Merlin had a break through and he rushed to the Lake of Avalon, carrying an old scroll. After months of research, he found a spell that could bring back his beloved. The spell was dangerous and forbidden, but Merlin didn't care anymore. He needed her; this was all that mattered to him now. His blue eyes turned gold as he chanted the spell and the lake began to shimmer as small waves parted revealing a perfectly dry Freya. He ran to her and the two lovers tearfully rejoiced at the feeling of being in each others arms. The consequences of using dark magic were far from Merlin's mind, whatever the price was he would pay it gladly. It was worth it to have her by his side.

Being able to court Freya properly was beyond exhilarating, they no longer had to race though the night under the cover of shadows, fearing capture. No more hiding in candlelit tunnels or glancing worriedly over their shoulders. The lovers reveled in their freedom, never taking a moment for granted. Merlin was fiercely protective of her; losing her once was heartbreaking and soul damaging enough, he didn't think his heart could take it a second time.

His new status afforded him the ability to take Freya out on a springtime forest picnic, where he delighted in offering her any delicacies she desired. The newly elevated Lady Freya told him that she would be pleased with whatever he chose as long as strawberries were present. On one such day, Merlin carried a wicker basket up a grassy hill, stopping to grasp her hand. She took hold while gathering up her flowing plum colored dress with a free hand.

"This way, milady," the court warlock said in a teasing tone, causing Freya to blush prettily as she still felt flustered about having a title. Like him, she had grown up unaccustomed to wealth, titles and privilege; for her, a bathtub and bed were luxuries. It mattered little if they lived in a cottage or a castle as long as they were together.

After choosing the seemingly perfect spot, they spread out a blanket and set the dishes filled with an assortment of bread, cheese, and fruit between themselves. Freya plucked a strawberry from her dish and quietly nibbled the small bright fruit. Merlin admired the way the sunlight shone against the strand of tiny white pearls woven into the dark braid dangling over her left shoulder.

"You look like a princess," he said with a smile.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asked while returning his smile.

"I thought you would know the answer to that," he replied, gazing at her affectionately before helping himself to a few apple slices.

After the picnic, they traveled to the lower town giving the remaining food to the peasant children; the day was spent playing racing games and showing off their magic. Merlin sat beside a fountain making the water twirl and spin like ribbons in the wind, making the surrounding children clap excitedly. Freya sat down next to him; her dark eyes alight with wonder. With her hair mussed and face flushed from racing with the little ones in the dirt streets, she had never looked more beautiful to him. In that moment, Merlin decided that there was no other woman he would ever want for a wife.

After a reasonably lengthy courtship, he asked for her hand in marriage. Freya was a beautiful bride, with a crown of wild flowers adorning her dark flowing hair that complemented the lacy white gown she wore. Merlin was dressed in a red belted coat with his trademark blue scarf, new trousers and boots. His friends could not persuade him to give up his beloved scarf even for his own wedding day.

Hunith and Gwen cried during the ceremony while toddler Aria squirmed in her mother's arms. During the banquet, the two year old Pendragon princess escaped Gwen's grasp and ran toward a table loaded with desserts. Aria grabbed a honey cake and gobbled up the sweet treat while creamy frosting drizzled down her chin. She rubbed her face, smearing the frosting over her cheeks and grinned before reaching for another. Merlin and Freya laughed as they watched from a table nearby; Arthur scooped up his daughter and walked back toward Gwen. The day had been wonderful, filled with friends, dancing and good wishes.

That evening, Freya sat on the bed idly smoothing out the wrinkles in her cream colored night gown. As the door opened it creaked, and she glanced over her shoulder. Merlin entered the bed chambers, enthralled by the gentle candlelight shining against his wife's delicate form. She smiled at him sweetly hoping to break the awkward tension building between them, and he sat down beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. The desire shining in his eyes left her feeling breathless with nervous excitement. As they began to kiss, their kisses were chastely feather light but then became more passionate. They paused momentarily to breathe.

Freya gently tugged at his tunic and he pulled away to remove it before carelessly dropping it on the stone floor. His breathing quickened slightly at the feel of her warm hands caressing his bare chest, and then he leaned forward to kiss her once more, clumsily unlacing the ribbons on the front of his wife's night gown. The cream colored satin tumbled away from her pale shoulders, revealing well-formed breasts. Their eyes met, mirroring the swiftly growing desire between them, as she slipped completely out of the night gown, baring herself to him. Still clad in trousers, he hovered above her as she lay against the wine red blankets which starkly contrasted the rich darkness of her hair and pale skin. A delighted whimper escaped Freya`s lips as Merlin explored her naked form with his hands and lips.

In the chill autumn morning, their bodies were pressed close together while lying in the tangled sheets. She shivered against him. The court warlock blinked sleepily at his wife before his eyes turned gold, causing blankets to unfurl and cover them and the fireplace's dying embers sprang to life, warming the chambers.

"Handy," Freya said with an appreciative smile.

"I know," Merlin replied while grinning down at her.

Life went on as it should and in his happiness the dark spell faded from his memory, seeming as if it had never happened at all.

One sunny morning, Merlin sat at his desk with ink quill pen in hand, writing a speech for Arthur in honor of a newly recruited knight. He paused in thought while gazing at the partially written speech on the parchment. Freya tiptoed into his chambers, smelling of lilac and rose water as she had just taken a bath. His wife was a pleasant distraction in her red gown, and being barefoot with damp hair that clung to the swell of her breasts as they pressed against the ruffled bodice, only helped the effect. Lady Freya pinned up her hair, showcasing her lovely neck for his viewing pleasure. Whatever thoughts he had in mind swiftly fled the moment she entered the room.

"What are you writing?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, a speech for the prat," he answered, struggling to focus.

She leaned over his shoulder to peek at the parchment, her alluring scent breaking what little concentration he had left. Merlin placed the inkpot too close to the desk's edge, thus accidentally striking it with his elbow. The inkpot shattered when it hit the floor, leaving a dark puddle under his desk. Swearing softly, he scurried about in search of a cloth, knocking over the parchment, and then nearly tripped over the mess. Freya snickered as she watched him.

"This isn't funny," he said without anger, picking up his ink covered speech. She knelt beside him, cupping his face in her hands, and then kissed him so he would stop fussing over the mess.

"You have the power to create fire out of thin air," she said wisely, "a few ink stains won't stand in your way, you'll think of something." As his wife, she couldn't help but wonder how Merlin could sometimes forget who he was. With a bit of magical help, the floor and parchments were purged of the ink and he managed to complete the speech delivering it to Arthur in time.

Later at night –

"Your speech was lovely," said Freya while climbing into bed beside him.

"It was nothing special," Merlin replied modestly.

"Of course it was," she protested with a yawn, settling down into bed. "Blow out the candle, please."

He smiled at her then sat up, blowing out the bedside candle's flames with a single breath; a small streak of smoke hovered momentarily before melting into the darkness. Merlin turned over countless times during the night, caught in a restless slumber as his sleep clouded eyes strained to see in the darkness. He climbed out of bed feeling weary but intrigued by the strange light filtering through his chamber window, a crimson aura mingled with moonlight. He clutched his right arm, feeling a searing pain like a thousand hot needles pricking his flesh and an anguished cry escaped his lips as he slumped against the cold stone wall, dizzy with pain. Freya jolted awake, disturbed by his distress, and she tumbled out of bed feeling disorientated. She gathered her wits when she saw him sitting on the floor with his head resting against the wall. She knelt beside him, teary eyed, confused and helpless, as the pain vanished as swiftly as it had come, leaving him glazed eyed and breathing heavily.

"What happened?" she cried frantically.

"I don't know," he answered hoarsely. "I saw a light …. And then I sensed a powerful magic."

He absently rubbed his right arm feeling a lingering tingle, and she noticed the motion. She rolled back his sleeve, revealing a dark mark of a moon surrounded by thorns.

"You've been cursed," she whispered brokenly with despair filled eyes, "When you saved me from the lake, did you use dark magic?"

"I did whatever it took to save you," he answered sadly, "No matter what happens to me, I will not regret that."

"Don't say such things," she cried while trembling, "You should have let me go and moved on with your life. You would have been safe and happy."

"I would never have been happy," he said regarding her gravely as they sat together on the stone floor.

"But you would live," she shouted angrily, "Who knows what will happen now? I've seen this mark on the woman who cursed me: she conjured some kind of dark power. It was like someone else controlled her! I heard about this when I was a child. Every few years, the dweller who gave her that power comes forth to gain payment."

Hindsight always left one wondering how things could have been, but it no longer mattered now, they had wasted enough precious time already. So together they searched for the last person either of them wanted to meet: the sorceress who had cursed Freya. They hoped that she still lived and had found a way to free herself from the curse if possible. They prayed that she might make a bargain with them to save Merlin.

For his sake, Freya relived the moment that destroyed her life and those of others, leading them back to the dirt path that was once splattered by blood. Eventually they came to a shack that stood near a winding dirt path leading into the heart of the forest. Merlin glanced at Freya as she eyed the shack warily, knowing this was the sorceress's home without her needing to say so. As forgiving as he was, he couldn't help the anger settling deep in his chest that, after all this time, the sight of the shack still filled her with dread.

He told Freya that she didn't have to go, but she insisted on coming. Merlin left her by the forest's edge before heading toward the miserable shack and lightly knocked on the shabby hunk of wood passing for a door. The door creaked open revealing a haggard, wild eyed sorceress, and she sneered while squinting up at him.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she snapped.

"I'm Merlin", he answered, struggling to push his feelings aside and focus on the matter at hand, "What can you tell me about this?"

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the thorn covered moon curse mark. The old sorceress's eyes widened, then she glanced around suspiciously.

"Who told you to come here?" she hissed.

"It doesn't matter," he replied with irritation, "Is there any cure?"

"He was once part of me, but I was too weak," she said thoughtfully, "He only leaves for a stronger better host, there is no cure."

She promptly shut the rickety door, leaving him with no choice but to return to the forest.

During the night -

They made camp in the forest, setting a small fire, eating their portions of roasted rabbit with disinterest as their worry-filled minds brimmed with thoughts of the curse. Merlin glanced at Freya from across the crackling camp fire. If he couldn't purge himself of this dark power then there was no telling what he might do while under its control.

"You should go back to Camelot," he said earnestly, "Once I've beaten the curse, I'll return quickly, I promise."

"I won't leave without you," she replied stubbornly.

"It's too dangerous," he protested.

"No, Merlin," she said firmly, "I trust you, and I don't want you to face this alone."

While settling in for the night -

A jolt of foreign magic coursed through him and he collapsed against the dirt in agony, writhing in pain while battling the darkness threatening to overtake him. Freya sat beside him crying softly and holding his hand, neither of them knowing how much time passed before the tremors stopped. He lay still, breathing raggedly with his eyes shut and she brushed the sweat soaked hair away from his brow, daring to hope that when he opened his eyes a familiar friendly blue would meet her gaze. Merlin's eyes fluttered open, and then he smiled at her weakly, the curse mark vanished from his arm. With blazing gold eyes, he chanted a binding spell, trapping the dweller's shadowy figure in a nearby tree.

Epilogue

"Auntie Freya, can the baby come out now?" Aria asked brown eyes wide with curiosity.

"Not yet," she answered smiling, letting the toddler rest her small hands against her large swelling belly. She patted the child's curly head as they sat on the bed in her chambers.

"Here are my favorite girls," said Merlin, entering the chamber with a smile. Aria bounced off the bed and ran toward him for a hug, and he chuckled while taking her in his arms before placing her back onto the bed. The court warlock turned to his wife, kissing her brow as he helped her settle more comfortably on the bed. Using magic to soothe her aching body, his heart swelled when he felt the faint pulsing of their baby's magic responding to his own. In his wildest dreams, Merlin never dared to hope that he would ever feel the happiness he felt in this moment.

Their baby was born on a rainy spring night, bringing his parents joy from the very moment he entered their lives. Freya rested against a few pillows while cradling baby Gaius in her arms, and she smiled tiredly at her husband and friends. Gwen sat beside her, stroking her warm sweaty brow with a damp cloth, and Arthur lifted up Aria so she could peek at the newborn baby who blinked at her with alert blue eyes. Merlin stood by taking in the scene before him and feeling happier than any other time in his life. Later in the evening, Arthur, Gwen and Aria left to allow the new parents to enjoy some private time with their child. Merlin carefully scooped Gaius up as he sat beside his wife, softly kissing her before she drifted off to sleep. Smiling at the feel of his son's soft dark hair against his cheek, his heart felt feather light as he looked forward to the future, knowing it would be glorious because he would never have to face it alone.

End