In the weeks following the trial, Merlin saw more and more of Branwen as she learned her way around the castle and Gaius increased her responsibilities. The sight of her always made him smile, but every smile brought a pang of guilt, as if he was betraying Freya's memory.

Even so, he started spending more time near the routes she frequented, and finding excuses to be in Gaius' chambers as often as he could. Branwen was courteous with him, but kept him at arm's length, which assuaged his guilt somewhat.

He liked simply being near her. He liked the easy way she used her magic, the way she hummed softly while she worked, the way her spells became songs, tuned to whatever melody was in her mind at the time. The way a dimple peeked out at him when she smiled. The way her raven's-wing hair fell down her back like a waterfall. Her daintiness. Her smell.

And always, at the edges of his mind and heart, the guilt. The conflict was driving him to distraction.

And Arthur, at last, couldn't take it anymore.

They were walking through the corridors and Arthur was trying to have a conversation with his sorcerer. He felt like he would have better luck talking to one of the pillars. He snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Merlin!"

"Sorry. What?"

"Would you quit fawning already and just talk to her?"

Merlin feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Branwen, idiot! It's obvious to absolutely everyone that you like her, and just as obvious that she likes you, too."

"It's not obvious to me."

"Aha! You admit it!" He smiled triumphantly at Merlin's scowl. "You know, she watches you every bit as much as you watch her."

"I've never seen her watching me."

"Well, she is very good at hiding it. Much better than you. Of course, you're terrible, so that's not saying much."

Merlin gave him a look.

"Listen, I'm tired of seeing you mooning about. You're distracted to the point of uselessness, and I simply cannot have that. Go talk to her."

"Fine, I will," Merlin agreed, more to end the conversation than from any true intention of doing so.

Arthur seemed to sense this. "In fact, you'll go talk to her now."

Merlin's eyebrows rose. "Is that an order?"

"Does it need to be?"

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

Merlin stared at Arthur, who stared amiably back.

The staring contest ended when the warlock rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Arthur clapped him on the back. "Good man."

"Yeah. If she burns be to a crisp, though, it's your fault."

The king considered that.

"Agreed."

Merlin shook his head and headed toward the physician's chambers.

When he arrived, Gaius was poring over one of his many books, but looked up as he entered. Merlin scanned the room. "Is Branwen here?" he asked.

"No." Realization dawned on the physician's face and he brightened. "Finally going to talk to her, are you?"

Merlin let out an exasperated sigh. "Does everyone know?"

"Oh, was it a secret?"

"Well, yeah. Kind of."

"Hm. Well, you weren't terribly subtle about it. I sent Branwen to collect feverfew."

"Thanks."

"Good luck!"

When Merlin arrived at the edge of the woods, he realized he had no idea where to go. He almost turned back, but the thought of what Arthur might say, or, worse, do made the idea evaporate. Then he remembered the king's words. "She likes you, too."

He closed his eyes and let his mind fill with thoughts of her. He breathed an incantation and opened his eyes to see a glowing trail leading through the trees. He followed it, wondering how far she had gone in search of herbs.

The answer, it turned out, was really quite far. The walk gave him time to think through the situation. Was his guilt really justified? Would Freya begrudge him the chance to be happy? To be loved? He thought back to the all-too-brief time they'd had together, remembered her kindness of spirit despite the curse, and had to believe she wouldn't. It occurred to him that she might even like Branwen.

First things first, though.

The trail at last ended at a patch of calendula, Branwen crouched among the golden blooms, carefully harvesting them to add to the feverfew and violets in her basket. She was humming again, and he stood for several heartbeats, transfixed.

Flowers. Girls liked flowers. He needed flowers. He glanced around. The only blossoms anywhere near him were some dandelions. He plucked a handful as quietly as he could and cast a spell. The flowers grew, petals stretching and curling into something ridiculously exotic looking.

Perfect.

He cleared his throat and she started a little. She rose quickly and dropped him a respectful curtsey. "My lord sorcerer."

He gave an embarrassed little laugh. "You really don't have to call me that. 'Merlin' is fine."

She seemed uncertain, but said, "Alright. Is there anything I can assist you with… Merlin?"

He smiled at the way she said his name, then realized she was watching him expectantly. He shook his head a little and took a breath, but he couldn't find the words he wanted. He cast about helplessly, painfully aware of Branwen's eyes on him. He finally thrust the flowers toward her and blurted, "I like you."

He watched her eyes widen and a blush creep across her cheeks as she accepted the blossoms. He stammered on, "Um, and I think we should… I mean, I'd really like it if we could be… together."

She glanced at him before focusing again on the flowers. "I… appreciate the sentiment, but," she shook her head, "we can't."

His face fell. "Why?"

Her fingers traced the improbable curves of the flowers. "You deserve better than me."

He was not expecting that. Since coming into his new position, he'd had his fair share of flirty giggles and batted eyelashes tossed his way. It had all just made him uncomfortable. But now he'd found someone who didn't make him uncomfortable. Someone who made him smile with just her presence. Someone who was like him, who understood him.

And she thought she wasn't good enough.

He would just have to convince her otherwise.

She was walking away from him and he dashed to catch up.

"Is this because you're of common birth? Because that's not a problem at all. So am I. So is Gwen, and she's the queen!"

"It's not that."

He put a hand on her arm, stopping her. "Then what is it?"

She looked up at him. "Just because you weren't born into a noble family doesn't change the fact that there's nobility in you. You are just as much a king as Arthur. You deserve someone who's pure. Innocent." She turned away. "And I am not."

Oh.

Oh.

He thought back to the trial, and the implications became clear.

"I don't care about that," he told her.

"You should."

He turned her gently and lifted her chin with his finger until she met his eyes. "I don't."

Her eyes filled with tears and he thought he'd convinced her until she jerked away.

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

She turned her back to him, but didn't move away. It was several moments before she spoke.

"That… man… did vile things to me. He made me do vile things. But," she hesitated and Merlin waited patiently for her continue. "But there were times when I took pleasure in those vile things. Times when I craved them. Sought them out." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I begged for them." Tears ran down her face and she wiped them away impatiently. "I don't deserve someone like you."

She walked away, leaving Merlin frozen in stunned silence, his heart breaking for her. His eyes followed her until she was out of sight, and then he began pacing in frustrated circles. The thought of that enormous man visiting his twisted desires on someone so delicate, and so kind… he shook his head to dispel the images and the fury. As much as he wished he could resurrect the man and kill him again, slowly and painfully, he couldn't. All he could do was try to make her see that what had happened to her didn't change the way he felt about her.

He had to try again. His pacing straightened out and took him in the direction she'd gone.

When he caught up with her, she was standing stock-still on a gentle rise, her hands over her mouth.

"Branwen?"

Her eyes strayed to him briefly before returning to whatever had captured her attention.

He came up beside her and saw, on the other side of the rise, a unicorn mare drinking from a stream, a foal on either side of her. Merlin's jaw dropped. It was rare enough for the creatures to breed, but twins were unheard of. He breathed out a whisper of a laugh. This had to be a good sign.

The three raised their heads at the sound and three pairs of eyes scrutinized the humans. The mare dipped her horn in Merlin's direction and he nodded back. The foals, apparently interpreting the gesture as permission, trotted over to him. He rubbed their heads, grinning ear to ear, and they promptly knocked him down, the better to sprawl on him.

He heard a delicate snort and looked up to find the mare standing in front of Branwen. The girl had her eyes lowered and was visibly trembling and Merlin suddenly had a very, very bad feeling. He tried to stand, but the foals had him pinned and they refused to budge. All he could do was watch and hope he wasn't forced to make an impossible choice.

The unicorn lowered her horn and pointed it at Branwen's heart, the girl seemingly resigned to whatever fate the creature should choose to mete out. The horn came to rest, gently, on Branwen's chest and the girl's head snapped up, her mouth falling open. They remained that way for several long heartbeats, and then the unicorn stepped back.

Branwen seemed unsure of what had just happened, but she timidly lifted a hand toward the mare, sobbing when the soft nose thrust itself into it. She stroked down the unicorn's face, then wrapped her arms gingerly around her neck, and the unicorn pressed into the embrace.

Branwen broke. She wept into the mare's softness, wept for her lost childhood, her stolen innocence, for every night she had wished to die. She wept for every harsh word, every bruise, every despicable act visited upon her.

And she wept for her redemption.

At last, the sobbing tapered off into sniffs and hiccups. The unicorn pulled away and pushed the girl gently to the ground, then laid her head on Branwen's lap with a contented sigh.

The foals scrambled to their feet to be with their mother and Merlin also rose, wiping his eyes on his sleeve before making his way over as well.

He lowered himself to sit next to Branwen. She shook her head in wonder, still stroking the mare. "I can't believe this is happening. I never thought that a unicorn would ever come to me."

Merlin reached out to fondle a foal's ear, smiling at how it twitched under his touch. "They are full of surprises."

They sat quietly for a while, simply reveling in the magic of the moment.

Branwen eventually broke the silence. "Merlin, I think… I think I'd like to take you up on your offer, if it still stands."

He beamed at her. "Of course it does." He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb affectionately over her skin.

The kiss they shared was soft, and sweet, and innocent.

A/N: I have a confession. I also thought it extremely unfair that Arthur should have Gwen and Merlin no one. So I fixed that, too. Because I'm generous that way. ;) Thank you again for all the follows, favorites, and encouraging reviews. You all are too, too kind.