From the author's desk: And here is Chapter 2! Thank you to those of you who have put this story on your alerts and favorites, and especially to those of you who have reviewed. I really appreciate your support and feedback!

So this chapter, we get into Freya's background and a tiny hint into Merlin's back story as well. Considering the things she is dealing with (you'll see as you read), I can only hope that I made her seem realistic and true to character. The same goes for Merlin as well. Fanfiction is the way I try to explore these issues and get a better perspective on them, and if anything feels inaccurate or unrealistic, please tell me, as this is my learning platform (aside from looking up statistics and things of that sort).

Again, many thanks to CaptainOzone and ExcaliburMaiden for their wonderful beta-work.

Beware, we're getting into the dark bits very quickly here. Please heed the warnings in Chapter 1.

Please enjoy, and drop me a review when you're done. I'd love to hear what you think!

See you all next Sunday!

Disclaimer: IDOM.

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Chapter 2

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He dreams of Freya, asleep and wrapped in a worn, brown jacket.

He dreams of her wolfing down food like someone deprived.

He dreams of her hiding tears, afraid of being forgotten.

He dreams of a promise.

I'm going to look after you.

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It is after two months and several dates and an endless amount of phone calls and texts that Merlin manages to convince Freya to come over.

Naturally, he owes Gwen his thanks for it.

"We should double this Friday. You and I can cook," Gwen suggests to him one day over lunch.

"I'll finally have an excuse to try that cheesecake recipe," Merlin says, liking the idea. "Okay then. Let me ask Freya and see what she says."

He hasn't said anything, but he worries about his girlfriend a lot.

Something terrible happened to her before they crossed paths, terrible enough to make her leave wherever she was and come here and live in that neighborhood that's been getting seedier by the week.

He worries because he can tell she's running from something that tore her apart. Merlin knows this because he knows what it's like to be torn apart from the inside out and have nowhere to run. He was stuck like that for a long, long time before his mother reached out to his great-uncle, who gave him a chance when he desperately needed one, and before he got into university and met Gwen and Arthur and Morgana.

But he doesn't like to think about that time, and Merlin knows Freya doesn't like thinking about those things either, so he makes it a point to keep her happy and smiling by being clumsy and making her smile or laugh and learning how to make strawberry cheesecake.

And Merlin knows it's worth it because when he brings dessert out the night of their double date with Arthur and Gwen, Freya's eyes widen in wonder and a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Did you make that yourself?" she asks.

"Merlin was slaving away over it all day yesterday," Gwen confirms on his behalf, and Merlin beams at the pride he hears in her voice.

"I could hear him banging around in the kitchen all afternoon with the mixer and whatnot. I'll admit, he's half-decent in the kitchen," Arthur adds. "Whatever you do, Freya, don't ever let him fix anything. He's rubbish when it comes to actually repairing something."

"It's not my fault Gwen's the better baker of the two of us," Merlin jibes back. "Some of us have to work harder to make sure our desserts turn out right. And that was one time, you clot!"

"It was the only time that mattered!" Arthur snipes at Merlin.

"And yet, you still come to me first when you mess up your computer. I warned you beforehand that I'm better with programs than the actual hardware!" Merlin tosses back.

"Boys, behave," Gwen gently chides them as she begins to cut the cheesecake, and Merlin gives her sheepish grin while Arthur pouts a bit at his girlfriend.

"Well, I think this cheesecake looks delicious. Thank you," Freya says as she takes a slice that Gwen has plated for her.

"I hope it tastes as good as it looks," Arthur adds on. "Merlin, if I die from eating this, I'm going to come back and haunt you."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "No faith. None whatsoever!" he grumbles to Freya.

"Arthur, you don't have to worry," Freya says after swallowing her bite of cheesecake, smiling at Merlin. "It's really very good. I can't believe this is your first time making this."

Merlin manages to bow dramatically to Freya while still in his seat. "I'm pleased that it pleases you, my lady."

Arthur snorts at Merlin's antics, Gwen shakes her head with a chuckle, and Freya giggles at him.

As Merlin takes a bite of his confection, he muses happily that the night has been quite fun and can't help but be pleased that Freya has gotten along so well with Gwen and Arthur. While the girls have similar taste in various things, Arthur seems to like using Freya's presence to give Merlin even more grief.

Merlin's happy that Freya takes the teasing so good-naturedly. It raises his opinion of her even more, considering how many people get so frustrated with Arthur when he's being a prat.

"We should get going," Arthur tells Gwen during a lull in conversation after dessert. "We're going to miss our show otherwise."

"Oh right," Gwen murmurs and gets up from the table. "It was lovely to finally meet you Freya. I'm glad Merlin found someone like you."

Freya smiles back. "It was good meeting you too. I'll let you know about lunch next week after I check my shift schedule at the bookshop."

"Sure."

"I'm trusting you to keep him out of trouble, Freya," Arthur says to her as he pushes his chair in. "If he does anything stupid, you've got my permission to smack him as much as you like." Freya just chuckles and nods back.

"Oi! Stop corrupting my girlfriend!" Merlin squawks at Arthur with little heat, and starts to physically push Arthur out of the dining area from behind. "Go bother someone else for a change!"

"You still love me, Merlin! Bye Freya!" Arthur calls as he and Gwen hurry out of door and leave for the rest of their evening together. Merlin just shakes his head. He can hear Gwen laughing at his and Arthur's antics as the door shuts behind them.

Merlin glances at Freya after the door closes. "So…"

Freya smiles at him shyly. "So…?"

He grins. "Let's clean this up, yeah?"

Freya nods and starts to help him gather the dishes.

They clean in a comfortable silence, only really speaking when Freya asks where something should go or when Merlin directs her around the kitchen.

Once the kitchen is spotless, Merlin comes up behind his girlfriend and wraps his arms around her from behind. He relishes in the feel of her leaning into him.

"This was really nice," she murmurs.

"I'm glad you had fun," he says and drops a kiss to the top of her head. "Now c'mon. I want to show you something."

He leads her to his room, to the easel sitting in the corner by the window, and the recently finished painting of the man with the sword.

"Wow," Freya breathes out, reaching out a finger to gently trace the brush strokes that make up the sword. "This is lovely."

"Thank you," Merlin says, happy she likes his painting.

"He looks like Arthur," Freya says, pointing to the man.

"Ah, yeah. That wasn't intentional. I actually based the painting on a dream I had with Arthur in it," Merlin explained.

Freya looked back at him quizzically. "You dreamed about Arthur holding a sword up to the sky?"

Merlin shrugged. "I've dreamed about all of my friends. A lot of them were warriors of some sort. Gwen was a servant or a maid a few times and a queen in a few others. Morgana was some sort of noblewoman a few times and a wicked witch who wore a lot of black. She laughed when I told her that. She's really quite nice, actually. It's too bad you couldn't meet her tonight, but she's gone to France for a conference."

"Your dreams sound so vivid," Freya says.

Merlin shrugged again. "I guess. I've always dreamed vividly though. It's what got me into art. It's like my dreams want to tell a story, but the parts of the story are out of order."

There's a beat of silence before Freya shyly asks, "Have you ever dreamed of me?"

Merlin swallows and nods. "And for some reason, you're the only one I can't seem to paint," he whispers.

She looks at him in surprise at his confession.

"For some reason," he goes on, walking slowly towards her, "whenever I dream of you, you're dressed in rags and covered in dirt, and I can't help thinking you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever met, but my heart breaks too because I can't bear to see you like that."

Merlin steps even closer to her, reaching a hand up to cup Freya's cheek. "You're scared and hurting. And all I want is to keep you safe, see you smile." Funny how he can apply that sentiment to his dreams and his reality.

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into an embrace. He doesn't know how to react to how stiff Freya is.

"I dream that I make you a promise to look after you."

Freya remains silent to his words and wooden in his arms. Merlin's worry over her returns tenfold, especially because he's sure that he's scared her, and that's not what he wants to do at all.

Merlin curses at himself silently. He needs to back off, give her space to process what he's just told her, because the dreams he has of her can't be easy to digest. They aren't happy dreams, and what girl in her right mind wants to hear that her boyfriend dreams about her being sad and in pain?

But now that he's started talking, he can't seem to stop. It's like he needs her to hear him out, just this once.

"I worry about you, Freya. I can tell that someone hurt you badly, and you're running because of it. I know something terrible happened to you in the way you stiffen sometimes at the mention of meeting strangers and the way you try to hide being scared of going home alone too late because of the creeps on the street. And every now and then, you drift away, lost in your head somewhere. I know because you flinch when you come out of it, and you get startled a lot—Freya?"

He stops talking abruptly, becoming aware of the way his girlfriend has buried her face in his chest, her arms wound tightly around his torso, and a growing damp patch on his shirt. Her body is still stiff, but he realizes now that she's trying to hide the tremble of her limbs as she cries, her fists tight in an iron grip on the back of his shirt.

Merlin's not sure what to do. He doesn't want to scare her or hurt her anymore than he already has (Arthur's right—he really is hopeless with women…).

Taking a breath, Merlin forces himself to relax and locks on to a memory of something his mum used to do to soothe him when he was upset as a child. He reaches one hand up and, wrapping the other arm more firmly around her, begins gently combing his fingers through her hair.

When Freya begins to relax in his embrace, Merlin carefully maneuvers them to curl up on his bed, with him sitting up against the headboard and Freya curled and tucked into his side.

He never lets go of his hold on her and keeps finger-combing her dark curls. Merlin doesn't realize he had been singing softly as well until Freya's tears reduce to sniffles and her head is pillowed languidly against his chest, right over his heart.

"You sing well," she whispers, breaking his mental mantra of take care of Freya and bringing his voice to his ears with an abrupt hitch in pitch that breaks the song completely.

He feels the blush immediately and ducks his gaze to his right in embarrassment but is rewarded when he hears his girlfriend give a giggle still stained with the last vestige of tears.

Shaking his head to get rid of his own ridiculousness, Merlin refocuses on Freya, taking in her appearance in the warm lights of his room. Her face is blotchy from crying, her eyes puffy and red and drooping with the exhaustion that comes with that sort of emotional release.

Slightly readjusting his position so that his left arm is wrapped snugly around her back, the fingers of his hand toying with her dark brown curls, Merlin tilts a bit to his left side to wrap his right arm around her as well, his hand running soothing laps up and down her back.

He smiles when he feels her burrow even closer to him.

They remain silent for a long time, Merlin taking in the sounds of their breathing in the quiet, his head tilted back against his headboard, focusing on Freya's presence against him. Her hand is fisted in his shirt again, this time the front, and he covers her small fist with his hand, squeezing gently.

He doesn't push her for answers, though he desperately wants them. He wants to hide her away from the world and keep her safe so that no one can ever hurt her again because seeing her like this—this hollowed out shell of herself—is breaking his heart, and it feels like his dreams of her are blending with reality.

"You'll hate me if I tell you what I've done," she whispers into the hush that has settled over his room.

He looks down at her then, meeting fearful and despondent brown eyes. He smiles slightly and shakes his head no. He could never hate her.

"I'm a—" and her mouth clamps shut, and Merlin sees the blush on her cheeks and the shame that crumples her face.

Merlin tightens his grip on her hand, hoping to offer strength to get her story out.

He watches as she swallows hard and audibly and takes a shaky breath to start again.

"You can't always trust people," she begins again, a broken smile twitching her lips for a moment. Merlin just nods; he knows that feeling well.

He watches her close her eyes tightly, feels her body stiffen against him, and her breathing is shaky when she starts to speak again. She tells him about a man who was meant to take care of her, nights and days spent living in fear of him, his hands, his anger, and his lust. Her words paint a picture in Merlin's imagination—a dimly-lit ramshackle house, creaky stairs, a small room sparsely furnished and decorated with cobwebs and grime hidden away under the staircase, and a young, hurt Freya curled in a corner in tears. She tells him of running away, and having no one to turn to, and being found by a creep named Haelig who puts her to work with threats if she wants to live. She speaks of a client who tried to hurt her, and how she accidentally hurt him. It got her in trouble, but her getting in trouble got Haelig in trouble, and suddenly, she wasn't in trouble anymore.

But it didn't matter that Freya didn't have to live like that anymore. The damage has been done, and Merlin can see it and hear it. There is shame in her face, and self-hate in her voice. In trying to stay alive, Freya had parts of herself torn away against her will.

Merlin wants to kill Haelig, find him and castrate him and drag him through all the levels of hell. The same goes for Freya's should-have-been guardian.

"I'm a—" Freya's voice is halting, thick with tears and pain and self-hate "—a whore."

"No."

Merlin's response is instinctive and full of righteous fury. "No, you're not. You're brave and sweet and good. You are not what they tried to make you. You did what you did to stay alive. And now you're here, and making a life for yourself."

He stops talking for a minute, gathering his thoughts. "You should be proud of yourself, Freya. You've started over, and you've done it all on your own."

Freya's confession has drudged Merlin's memories to the forefront. They are his monsters in the dark, clawed fingers dragging his mind back into how he was before he met Gaius—drowning in the shame of being manipulated, the pain of being used so much he felt ragged, the fear of what would happen to his mother if he told, and the impending self-destructive explosion of his life fueled by the lure of something that could put his mind at ease.

Merlin hasn't talked to Gwen, Arthur, and Morgana about Kanen and Jarl and Cenred and how they almost destroyed him. The most they know is that his life wasn't the best growing up. He isn't planning to tell them exactly how bad it was anytime soon, if ever.

But thinking all of that, Merlin knows what to say to Freya now.

Idly running his fingers through her hair again, he leans forward and drops a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. When he pulls away, Freya tilts her face slightly towards him, a questioning look on her face.

"I know what it's like to keep secrets," he whispers. "I also know how hard it is to share them. Thank you for sharing yours with me."

She smiles at him softly, and Merlin is so lost in that smile that he startles a bit when he feels her fingertips gently brushing away tears from his cheeks.

He blinks owlishly, and hastily rubs the sleeve end of his purple sweater across his eyes before looking back at her with lightly flushed cheeks and an embarrassed smile.

"Thank you for listening," she murmurs to him. Freya then snuggles closer to Merlin again and rests her head over his heart once more.

"Sleep," he coaxes her gently, running his fingers through her hair again. She mumbles something that sounds like "just for a little while" and relaxes as her breathing quickly becomes even and deep.

Merlin's eyes droop shut soon after.