From the author's desk: Hello! I am Z, and up until recently I've only been a lurker in the Merlin fandom here on FFN. I've been a member of FFN for oh...at least a decade now. I don't know if that counts as being a seasoned fanfiction author, but I've written for several fandoms in the past (see my profile for the full list) so hopefully that helps.
Anyway, this is the very first fic I started writing for this fandom, and I've been working on it for months and months now. It has been a labor of love, and the style (that is, dreams of the past vs. current events) was inspired by Stealth Dragon's "Finding Merlin." You should seriously go find that story and read it if you haven't. I wasn't expecting to start writing in this fandom with a modern AU, but this particular idea struck me and wouldn't leave me alone until it was completely written out. It was also originally supposed to be a one-shot, and it somehow ended up becoming a multichapter fic that's over 15k words.
I haven't written anything this length in so long that I was really surprised that I still had it in me. (Yes, I am a little proud of this piece. Sue me.)
Of course, I doubt this story would be as good without my beta team. Many, MANY thanks go to Oz (CaptainOzone) and EM (ExcaliburMaiden) for their wonderful suggestions and edits. Gorgeous cover art also by EM.
Please enjoy, and leave me a review if you feel so inclined. I love to know what my readers think.
Warnings: This story deals with past sexual abuse of minors, past drug use, and implied non-con. I have done my best to deal with these issues respectfully and tactfully, but if you find content like this triggering, please turn back now.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. (IDOM.)
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Build Your Wings and Fly, Love
by dreamsweetmydear
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"Love is how you earn your wings." – Karen Goldman
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Chapter 1
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When Merlin sees her the first time, it's at the bookshop near his flat, after he—in a fit of awkward clumsiness on his part—stumbles forward and knocks the books she is holding from her hands.
"Sorry, I—" he begins to apologize sheepishly, his eyes on the books he is picking up for her, when he finally glances up into her face and is struck dumb.
Large brown eyes look back at him from a face framed by nearly black curls.
He straightens up, his fingers tightening a bit nervously on the stack of books in his hands. Her body is angled toward the bookcase next to them, and he recognizes the maroon vest that she wears as part of the bookshop's employee uniform. Behind her is a cart full of books, freshly tagged for sale.
"Sorry," he breathes out. "I…wasn't looking where I was going."
Her lips twitch into a tiny smile before her cheeks flush, and she turns her face resolutely to the bookshelf she was arranging.
"It's all right," she murmurs aloud. Merlin's brain is too busy shorting out at the sight of her blush.
All he can think is that she's beautiful.
"Um, here," he says, feeling suddenly like a teenager again as he holds out the stack of books to her. Fitting, considering they're in the young adult fiction section.
She takes the stack from him and begins to arrange the books. He's about to ask her name when he hears Arthur calling him from the next aisle. Merlin can hear the whine in his voice that says he's got about five seconds before Arthur throws a tantrum because he's bored.
"You should go," she says quietly, drawing his attention back to her. "Your friend sounds like he's in a hurry."
"Who, Arthur? Oh no, he's always like that," Merlin says with a grin.
"MERLIN!" Merlin winces slightly at the sharpness of Arthur's voice.
He doesn't mind though because the girl in front of him is beginning to smile a little in amusement.
"It was nice meeting you, Merlin," she says and leaves him standing in the aisle as she pushes her book cart away.
As she turns away, Merlin catches a glimpse of her name tag.
"Likewise…Freya," he says and turns to head back to Arthur and his hunt for the perfect gift for Gwen.
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He dreams of her for the first time that night.
She is dressed in rags, her face is smudged with dirt.
Her hands clutch metal bars, shackles wrap tightly around her wrists.
And her eyes are wide, terrified and pleading for help.
He knows immediately that he will do anything for her.
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When Merlin sits in front of the blank canvas for his next art project—he's taking a painting class to de-stress from the pressures and frustrations of studying for his doctorate—all he can think of is Freya.
What he ends up starting is something that is most definitely not Freya, his pencil sketching out a scene from a dream of his that features a young man holding up a sword in a sunlit glade.
It's as he is working on some of the lines for the scenery that his phone beeps at him with a text from Gwen.
Going to the pub with Arthur and the others. Coming?
He takes a glance at his art project, figures it'll still be here when he gets back with the others, and sends Gwen an affirmative text.
He's not expecting to see Freya again as he heads out to meet his friends.
Merlin sees her locking up the bookshop with a couple of other workers as he passes the window with a display of new bestsellers.
Her head is bowed as she straightens up some books and audiobook packages on a nearby table, and Merlin can't help but think she looks sad, her face hidden behind her long hair, her hands moving without fervor or joy, just moving.
As he watches her, Merlin remembers the small smiles she gave him when they first met, and he desperately wants to see those smiles again.
So he takes a chance and knocks on the window. He feels guilty when she startles as she looks up, dropping the books she's holding.
Merlin waves through the window. She smiles at him.
Seeing her smile makes him feel lighter, and he takes a chance.
"Want to get a cup of coffee?" he asks through the window, hoping she'll understand his glass-muffled words.
Merlin can't help but think she looks kind of adorable when her brow crinkles as she's trying to decipher his invitation. He watches as she glances at her watch to check the time, then nods back at him with a shy smile and holds up her hand, all five fingers splayed.
He nods, and while he walks to the entrance to wait for Freya, he shoots Gwen a text. Actually, I've got plans. You guys go ahead without me. I'll see you at home.
He gets an answering text from Gwen's number, but it is clearly written by Arthur. Merlin has plans? Who is she?
He chuckles. I'll tell you later.
The next text is from Morgana. You'd better!
Merlin shakes his head and pockets his phone, looking up just in time to see Freya coming out of the door of the shop.
"Hi," she says.
"Hi," he says back. "Um, there's a nice coffee shop just around the corner that's open late. Their desserts are really good."
"That sounds…really nice, actually," she answers, and they start walking to the coffee shop.
They walk in silence, hands in pockets, elbows bumping occasionally, and Merlin steals little glances at Freya as they pass the art supply store where he likes to shop. It's as they come to the entrance of the coffee shop that he catches Freya looking at him, too, and he can't help but duck his head a bit to hide his grin.
"Hey, Merlin," a young man with dark hair and a hoarse baritone behind the dessert display calls out to him.
"Hey, Will," Merlin calls back before looking back at Freya. "Where do you want to sit?"
"How about…there?" Merlin looks to see where Freya is pointing, finding a small table with a couple of comfortable armchairs in a corner by the window.
"Sure," he says with a grin and leads her to the table.
"My lady," he says, pulling her chair out with a flourish. She smiles at him and sits down.
"You're new here, aren't you?" he asks her after he's sat down and they've ordered coffee and a couple slices of strawberry cheesecake.
She nods. "What about you? Have you been here long?"
So he tells her how he's a student at the university, trying to get his doctorate in history. He tells her how he lives with his three best friends: Gwen, a med student who he's known since his first year of university; Arthur, who was his roommate during his second year of university and is now like the brother he never had; and Morgana, Arthur's half-sister, who he met through his history classes and Gwen.
Merlin sees Freya smiling at him, taking in the stories he tells her about meeting his friends, about his life as a doctoral student.
He stays away from saying much about where he's from, only that he's got a single mum and no dad.
After telling her his severely abbreviated life story, Merlin finally asks Freya, "What about you? How did you end up here?"
"Oh, there's really nothing to tell about me," she murmurs, taking a sip of her coffee. "I just needed to get away from where I was. But the place where I grew up, oh…"
Merlin finds himself smiling along with her as her voice and eyes become wistful and happy. "I used to run around in the fields during spring and summer, picking wildflowers and strawberries, but the best part, the absolute best, was the lake. It was beautiful and clear, and it almost seemed like a portal to another world the way it reflected the mountains and the sky…"
"It sounds like heaven," he says, picturing a little Freya running free near a glittering lake, wildflowers caught in her dark hair.
"It was," she answers, and he notices her smile turns sad again.
Merlin doesn't like it when she smiles like that; it's like she's lost something precious and can never get it back.
"So what do you like to do for fun?" he asks quickly, trying to draw her thoughts to something happier again.
They continue to talk long into the night, until Freya glances at her watch again. "Oh…it's a lot later than I realized…"
"I can walk you home," Merlin offers. "You shouldn't be out alone this late at night."
"Thank you," she says, "but I don't live in this neighborhood. I usually take the bus here."
"Oh." He wonders what to do. Would it be too forward of him to offer to ride the bus with her? He'd offer her a ride, but he doesn't drive. Then he has an idea.
"You could crash at my place. My friends won't mind. And you can borrow something to wear from Gwen or Morgana."
Freya shakes her head. "No, I can't."
Merlin notices how tense her shoulders have become at his suggestion and decides not to push it.
"All right. Oh, I know. We can get you a taxi."
Freya smiles, but Merlin notices her shoulders are still a little tense. "If you want, I can ride with you."
He smiles when he sees the tension leave her completely, and she nods. "Okay."
So they get a cab after walking a couple more blocks to a more lively area of the neighborhood.
They pull up to a slightly run-down apartment building in another neighborhood a few miles away. Down the street, Merlin hears the telltale tinkle of breaking glass and a barking dog. In the mouth of the nearby alley, he can see the lump of a homeless person sleeping on a makeshift bed of old newspapers.
It is very much like where he grew up.
"Can I walk you to your door?" he asks her after telling the cabbie to wait a few minutes. Freya smiles at him and nods before leading him up the steps of her building's stoop.
"I had a really good time," she says as she digs through her bag for her keys.
"I'm glad, and so did I," Merlin says. "Maybe we can do this again?"
"Yeah," she says and unlocks the door to her building, but lingers in the doorway, digging in her bag again. Merlin watches her curiously as she pulls out a small notepad and a pen and quickly writes something down before ripping the small page out and handing it to him. "Good night, Merlin."
He folds the little piece of paper into his pocket. "You too," he murmurs, looking deeply into her eyes for a moment, searching for a sign of rejection, and leans forward and kisses her softly—a chaste press of his lips to hers, with an answering push of hers to his.
She blushes when he pulls away, but her eyes are wide in dazed surprise, and there's a little smile on her lips as she quickly ducks into her doorway.
Merlin bows his head, and hiding a happy grin, gets back into the cab to go home.
On the way, he pulls out the piece of paper Freya gave him, finding a mobile number and a single sentence: "I've never met anyone like you."
He texts her immediately. I've never met anyone like you, either.