Epilogue - Spring
Merlin figured he and Freya were as close to success in their marriage as two people ever came, if happiness was any gauge of success, though admittedly he was a biased judge of the question. It hadn't been a smooth path the whole way, by any means – there had been awkwardness, and silence, and a few tears. But now…
If this was the best it ever was for them, if by some rare twist marriage became more difficult, more work, it was still all worth it.
He sat on a rough bench on the sidewalk in the shade of the reeve's office, his hands busy with a knife. This one with a short, wide blade, specially curved for carving. He had a few months – and then a few months more – but it was important to him to make this particular piece of furniture himself. And make it beautiful, not just functional. It took concentration, but it was repetitive and so allowed his mind to wander.
Changes had been made – all out of his control, but he wasn't sure he didn't mind, after all. The way Freya smiled and blushed… The staring was the same, and might be for a while, but he figured if he let himself walk around town grinning like an idiot one minute, then scowling like a thundercloud the next, for no apparent reason, then he'd earned the odd looks and whispers.
Shasta stepped onto the boardwalk just down from him, followed by Percival with his muscles bulging around a sack of flour. She turned to close the door of the mercantile behind him, and sent a sweeping curious gaze around Main Street before lighting on Merlin and moving closer. Behind her, Percival grinned and nodded his own greeting, which Merlin returned.
There was mild concern on her face under the smile and the beribboned bonnet. "Freya stayed upstairs this afternoon?" she asked.
"She's not feeling so well," he answered. "Mornings mostly, you know, but sometimes it lasts all day. It's not bad, just persistent. Gaius is with her now, she's to be his last patient of the day."
She nodded knowingly. "It'll pass. You treat her nice, specially since her condition is your fault, young man."
"It's – well…" Merlin stuffed a sudden grin back behind his teeth, but she saw him anyway, and swatted the air in his direction as Percival chuckled behind her, hefting the flour sack.
"Tell her I'll be by tomorrow with some broth and a flatbread that's good for morning sickness."
He nodded, and let Percival's knowing grin pass without comment, watched the tavern-keeper and his wife make their way down the street.
It wasn't much longer, the shadows a foot longer on the street - a pair of horses and their riders coming at a leisurely sway toward him from the opposite direction - when Mike came out and locked his door behind him, sauntering over to the corner.
"Reeve Merlin," he said. "I didn't get a chance to tell you last night, you were late coming in from your house, but a freight driver took your messages yesterday – one for Turad, one for Camelot, wasn't it?"
"Thank you, Mike," he responded, flicking the underside of the brim of his hat in salute.
Two riders reined in beside them, nodding to both, though only one spoke. "Afternoon, Mike – or should I say evening, yet? Merlin."
"Good evening, Leon," Mike said, taking his own leave, stepping into the street to head home, himself.
Leon leaned over his saddle-horn to address Merlin. "Have you heard back from the agent, then?"
Merlin sighed inwardly, choosing to remain seated. The business of a reeve was a public business, after all – and never a day off, really.
"The last letter I got was two weeks ago," Merlin said. And that was already old gossip in Emmett's Creek. "Uther's agency is working with Edwyn of Redwillow to re-calculate the taxes for the year based on the returned investments. As far as I know, Edwyn will be coming here late this fall, same as last year."
Behind Leon, Cedric snorted – he was one of the few who'd protested Edwyn's assessment of the amount he owed, who'd also protested that the amount awarded to them after the trial in Camelot wasn't enough. Even though Agent Lancelot had informed Merlin that he had legal grounds to ask for a hearing that the amount be given to Freya personally as Padlow's widow – he'd known without asking that she'd never agree to that. It was Freya's generosity that was giving the region what amounted to half-taxes for four or five years, the way Merlin saw it.
"I'll send Edwyn your regards next time I write, shall I?" he added.
Leon rolled his eyes but grinned as he headed his horse for home; Cedric glared at Merlin as he followed.
Well, never could please everyone. Waste of time and energy trying.
He heard the ponderous clump of Gaius' footsteps coming down the staircase on the side of the reeve's office, and put down his knife, turning to anticipate the old physician's appearance.
"Ah, Merlin," the old man said, as he rounded the corner to join him, though both of them knew he wasn't surprised to see Merlin there, waiting.
"Is she getting close to the halfway mark yet?" he said; greetings had already been exchanged when Gaius had first arrived.
"Why, has she been complaining?" the old physician shot back. His eyes twinkled; both of them knew that would never be true of Freya. Then his smile turned sly. "Or maybe you have a case of new-father jitters?" Whatever he saw on Merlin's face had him laughing out loud as he stepped from the boardwalk.
Fatherhood. A daunting prospect at best.
Merlin could go from strolling incredulously among the clouds at his unexpected good fortune, to crawling through the mud – figuratively speaking – at the conviction that he was never meant to be a father, sure he'd fail, sure that somehow he'd lose Freya and the baby. She was incredibly patient with him, when he felt like that.
"Tell Freya I'll be by to check on her again in a few days, first thing in the morning," Gaius added. Both of them looked up as the sound of horses' hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels on the north track coming into town reached them. "You're making good progress on the house; Alice and I took the liberty of driving out by the property last week."
"It's coming along," he allowed. Allowed the smile, too. "We've had a good few weeks without thunderstorms, too."
Much better than simply adding a window into the bedroom of the reeve's quarters. Because he refused to have his wife and child living over a jail indefinitely.
Gaius crossed the street with plenty of time before the carriage reached them. Merlin squinted out at the vehicle – studied the pair on the driver's seat – stood and stepped to the edge of the walkway, as the physician turned mid-stride to raise a hand and call out a greeting, before continuing on his way.
The driver pulled the team to a halt, the woman beside him holding his arm for balance. Then he grinned down at Merlin.
"Reeve," he said laconically.
"Agent," Merlin returned. "Welcome to Emmett's Creek. I didn't know if you were going to make it today. Hello, Gwen."
Gwen beamed at him. "Merlin, it's good to–"
She interrupted herself at a low plaintive cry that seemed to come from between their feet, and bent over to coo and fuss in the direction of Arthur's boot.
Merlin stepped up on a spoke of the wheel, close to the hub so his weight would not encourage it to keep turning. There was a basket there on the floorboard, wedged in place and well-padded with blankets. Merlin glimpsed a chubby face scrunched in sleep or dissatisfaction – or both – and a tiny fist moving without coordination.
"Congratulations," he said sincerely.
Arthur's grin glinted down at him from the seat. "Your turn soon enough."
Merlin ignored him and the nervous feelings that threatened at the thought. He was fascinated with that little bundle – he remembered his mother's babies, after all – but felt a vague reluctance to get too close. Someone like him shouldn't–
Well, someone like Arthur was this baby's father, and they were not so different, after all.
With Freya for a mother… maybe it would be all right.
"How was it?" Merlin asked.
"Awful," Arthur confided.
At the same time Gwen gushed, "Wonderful!"
They traded a look, and spoke at the same time, again, Gwen conceding, "Well, there were awful parts–"
As Arthur said, "Well, yes, it was kind of wonderful…" Merlin stepped down off the wheel, and the agent added, "You'll join us for dinner in the tavern, won't you? Where's Freya?"
"Upstairs. Resting."
Gwen's eyes lit and she opened her mouth on a quick inhalation – she glanced at Arthur and shut her mouth, but couldn't seem to help a smirk at Merlin.
He could feel the color rising in his face, but Arthur didn't notice.
"We're going to stop and say hello to Elyan first, but we'll see you later?"
"Yep." Merlin nodded.
"Lots to tell," Gwen added, twinkling, and Arthur flicked the reins to get the wagon moving again.
Merlin watched them up the street to the livery stable, then turned to the stairs.
…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..
Freya sat in the kitchen room of their quarters above the reeve's office, reading a page or two after Gaius' visit – she knew Merlin would be up soon, the old physician had mentioned seeing him just outside as he arrived – mostly listening.
She'd hear her husband coming up the stairs, the sound of his boots distinctive and familiar to her – dear to her. He'd knock twice before entering – a courtesy she'd told him he didn't have to observe, which statement he'd ignored. He'd hang his hat on the hook, brush his boots on the old rag rug, tell her the news and give her messages – folks were overwhelmingly friendly since the success of Merlin's investigation into the tax funds in Redwillow, since the gossip of the coming baby had gotten out. Why did something like that suddenly make folks more friendly? She didn't know, but wasn't complaining.
Then she heard his boots on the stairs, and her heart leaped with the happiness of loving him, anticipating seeing him.
"That's your daddy," she whispered to the little one who couldn't hear her yet.
He knocked and ducked in exactly as she knew he would, though he didn't take his boots off, only his hat. Then he leaned back against the door to study her, and she blushed, folding her hands over the growing bump in her midsection.
"How are you feeling?" he said.
She had half a mind to give him a taste of his own medicine, ignoring him or changing the subject – and now she knew why he did that; it was tiresome to be asked the same questions all the time – but when she opened her mouth, what came out was, "Better, thank you."
"What did Gaius say?"
She smiled; the old man would have told Merlin if something was wrong, and Merlin didn't really want details, anyway.
"Everything's fine. Proceeding according to schedule. Coffee? There's enough for a cup left, I think." She'd made half a pot in anticipation of Gaius' visit.
"How would you like to have dinner at the tavern tonight?" he asked, then pointed her back into the rocking chair. "Sit down, I'll get it."
Even though she could lean forward to reach the coffeepot from where she sat, and his cup was on the shelf just overhead, she obeyed, happy to do so. It was a constant surprise to her to know that he wanted to care for her, to make her happy, but she was only too glad to receive the attention.
"I wouldn't say no," she said archly, enjoying every lighthearted moment they two achieved.
He still fell into black moods sometimes, when she hesitated to disturb him, not wanting to do or say anything to make him feel worse – but even then, it was so different than what she'd felt walking soft around Padlow. Even in his worst moods, Merlin treated her with generous care – and she had no doubt he would be the same with the baby, boy or girl.
"Good – I have a surprise for you when we get there." He bent over her to fill the cup on the table at her elbow, then picked it up and stepped to the window.
"You really don't need to give me anything more."
Merlin looked down at her, giving her his slow beautiful smile, the blue of his eyes deep and clear, and reached down to caress her cheek gently with his scarred knuckles. "Let me anyway?" he said.
She smiled at him in response, resting her head against the high back of the chair, tipping her face up invitingly.
His own smile widened, and she could feel it on her lips as he bent to give her something she could return – another kiss.
And they lived (mostly) happily ever after, except for some moments during further adventures (of course), some of which included Arthur… and maybe Gwen… surely Percival, and Leon – hey, maybe they went back to Turad at some point and there was another adventure there which included Gwaine and Morgana! And what if they had a baby by then, too!...
(No, I'm not going to keep writing adventures in this version; the trilogy is complete.)