Hey guys! thanks so much to everyone who reviewed...really really appreciate your words and feedback ;) Here is another chapter (EARLY! YAY!) and it is a loooong one (almost 10, 000 words). It is set during the episdoe Lady of the Lake and for the most part sticks to what happened but there are some changes both in character backgrounds and how things unfold.

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Chapter 10: The curse of Lizzie Borden

Chapter Warnings: side character death, slavery, drinking

"Love can be a terrible curse, Eragon. It can make you overlook even the largest flaws in a person's behavior."
― Christopher Paolini, Brisingr

"Yes?" Harry raised an eyebrow in question—for once truly curious as to the answer.

It was not every day that his brother actually sought him out after all. Though a small part of his brain questioned why exactly Merlin was looking for him if not to secretly assassinate him. It was only a small part, mainly because Gaius was still in the room and he was pretty sure (like 99.9%) that the old man would not be a part of any dastardly plot that ended up with his body left in some deep, cold trench.

Harry cocked his head slightly when Merlin mumbled something shifting from foot to foot looking altogether awkward and uncomfortable.

"Sorry….I didn't quite hear that" Harry stated ignoring the annoyance that flitted across his brother's face. What? He hadn't….it wasn't his fault that the nitwit couldn't enunciate properly.

"I was wondering if I could tag along on your rounds today?" Merlin repeated looking sullen and reluctant even as he spoke the words.

Harry felt a flare of suspicion and wariness. It was rather obvious that Merlin did not want to come with him—or spend time with him for that matter (it wasn't as though he hadn't made this fact perfectly clear from the moment that the two of them had met)…so what had changed? Or more likely, what did Merlin hope to gain from this excursion.

Harry gave himself a small mental kick at his paranoia (something that had definitely increased since joining his other half). He really shouldn't immediately jump to nefarious motives….maybe Gaius or well, Gaius (since he couldn't see anyone else giving a damn) had bullied Merlin into trying to be nicer. The older man had taken a bit of a shine to Harry after all (at least he put up with him)….and he was practically a father figure to Merlin…so it was possible. Likely the old man just wanted some of the tension that sprung up every time they were within sight of each other to disappear.

Harry shot a quick covert look over to where the old witchdoctor sat 'reading' (for the amount of 'reading' the guy did, he should have long ago been finished that bloody encyclopedia) searching for a sign that Gaius was behind this sudden act of Merlin's. Of course the old man's face had for once, become indecipherable.

Harry gave a mental sigh before deciding to throw caution into the wind just this once….after all he was relatively sure that Merlin would not resort to physically harming him, plus maybe spending a bit of time with his brother would help the other boy see him in a better light (or at least expose his true motives—the Myror part of his brain added unhelpfully).

Realizing he had yet to answer Harry gave a nonchalant (or so he hoped) shrug, "er….sure, why not. I am rounding on the lower half of town today though. So it will take few hours at least…." he trailed off.

A slight grimace of distaste flitted across the other wizards face but was quickly concealed—just not quickly enough. Harry felt his own mouth want to pull downwards. At least now he could be pretty sure that Merlin was up to something….

Just what -remained to be seen.

-o—

Merlin hid his surprise at the scene before him. He hated to admit it….I mean really, really hated, but as previously stated, to his surprise, his brother was actually good at his job. And by good, he meant really surprisingly good. Huh…who would have thought?

Sure deep down, Merlin knew that he had always been a bit biased and unfair regarding his opinion of Henry but despite knowing this (deep deep down) he still hadn't expected his brother to actually have such a calming air about him when dealing with the sick and dying. He found himself reluctantly impressed.

He knew that Henry was suspicious of why he had offered (asked) to go with his brother on physician rounds (it was a practice that Gaius did twice a week, one half of Camelot on Tuesdays and the other half on Saturdays. It had been something that the elderly physician had done for years and while Uther had looked down on the practice—considering it was not helping the people he deemed important—Gaius had somehow managed to convince the king to let him continue), but he was not discouraged. He knew that it would take time for his brother to set aside his suspicions and allow himself to trust Merlin, especially given the way Merlin had treated him since his arrival.

The young warlock steadfastly ignored the part of his conscience that was screaming at him for doing something so back handed but he managed to silence said screaming for the most part. This was for the good of Camelot after all…sometimes one had to do things a bit morally dubious to ensure the betterment of many. Still as he watched Henry stoop down beside an old woman in order to redress her leg ulcer his gut churned uncomfortably.

He pushed the feeling away once more when Henry finished and stood up to join him, "Alright….we are just about done. Just a quick stop at the hogshead"

Merlin forced the sneer and derisive statement that wanted to spill from his lips away, "why do we need to stop at the pub?" he asked, proud that his tone came out simply curious and not confrontational.

"Gaius is making the owner a stomach soother….I just have to drop it off" Henry answered easily although Merlin could tell by the slight curl to his lip that his brother was pleased by the lack of hostility being shoved in his direction. Again with that unsettled feeling.

They walked down the now quiet streets—most of the inhabitants home for the evening, likely sitting down for their last meal of the day—for a few long moments before the silence grew too much for Merlin. He was already suffering enough indecision regarding his choice he did not need the silence to allow him more time to think about it!

"You are rather good at this" he offered unable to keep the surprise from his voice completely.

Henry's brow quirked up and his brother shot him a hesitant smile, "er….thanks….practice makes perfect and all that." Merlin would have dismissed the sentence had he not seen how his brother tensed his jaw immediately after saying it, as though regretting his words.

Curiosity got the better of him, "practice?"

This time there was no subtly at all in how Henry's eyes seemed to shutter, and his expression closed down becoming defensive and guarded.

"Yeah practice" he answered shortly obviously hoping that Merlin would just let it go.

Of course he didn't….

"Where did you get practice at cleaning and wrapping wounds?" Merlin asked again watching the other boy's face closely for his response.

Henry's lips thinned and the corner of his eyes tightened further, "it should not come as that much of a surprise to you, but father was not exactly the kindest or gentlest of men" he bit out before coming abruptly to a stop.

Merlin started slightly in surprise—at both his brother's words and their insinuation and the fact that they had apparently arrived at their intended destination without him having realized.

Henry didn't wait for a further comment from Merlin grabbing onto the door and entering without waiting, leaving Merlin to follow or be stuck waiting outside.

For once Merlin decided to give his brother a small amount of courtesy and grant him the privacy he obviously wanted in that moment. He moved to the side of the street patiently wait for him to finish.

He tried to tell himself that Henry's words didn't matter….they didn't change anything. Not how he felt about his brother nor his current plan and the outcome he hoped to achieve. The churning in his stomach seemed to disagree.

-0—

Harry grit his teeth, angry with himself for getting so easily worked up. Not to mention his obvious over reaction to the whole situation. Not that there even was a situation mind you, no, just a freaking simple sentence and he was acting like someone had butchered his fire bolt, right in front of him.

The most annoying part of it was that he couldn't even be sure that it was his overreaction! And yes, he realized how insane and confusing that sounded. Not that it made it any less true.

Because Harry hadn't needed to flee from Merlin's presence because he was upset over his past, no, he had fled into the Hogshead because he was upset over Myror's past! And wasn't that a kicker? As if he didn't have enough emotional trauma and damage from his own upbringing—he just had to have another half a soul with an even worse childhood for him to share in. Lovely.

Thankfully it would seem that Merlin at least had the decency to give him a bit of space and he felt himself calming down and relaxing the further away from his confusing brother he got. Taking a deep breath, Harry pasted a fake smile on and gave a half hearted finger wave to a group of rowdy knights in the corner who were waving enthusiastically.

He recognized a few faces, having started training with Arthur he tended to spend more time near the prince and thus near his men. He had only met one or two of them and really only conversed with a rather roguish—but amusing one named Gwaine. Still, if they were drunk enough to overstretch their nonexistent relationship with him, then he could at least acknowledge them with a wave.

"Mr. Jenner?" Harry turned his back to the loud table his eyes landing on the man he was here for.

"Ai, Henry….howre ya tonight?" the bear of a man asked, his watery colored blue eyes warm with humor.

Henry had only delivered Royce Jenner his tonic a few times, but the man was unfailingly polite and friendly to him. Despite his intimidating stature and the fact that he could probably squash Harry like a bug with just a pinky, Harry couldn't fail to like the guy.

"I'm good. Thanks for asking. And you? Business treating you well?….here's your tonic by the way. It should last you for the week" Harry answered in kind, handing the jar of solution over the bar counter.

"Thank ya lad. Been runnin low and business is jus fine, Here ya are…theres a bit extra there for ya to buy yourself somethin nice ya hear me? Ya work too hard" Royce answered with a beaming smile clunking the coins onto the counter in front of Harry.

Harry made to protest but stopped at the look Royce sent him. He knew that he would just end up offending the man should he refuse his generosity to he carefully scooped up the coins and nodded his thanks, turning back to the door after he saw that Royce's attention drawn away from him.

Despite knowing that there were genuinely kind and generous people in the world, Harry still found himself a bit overwhelmed when presented with evidence of such. Though he suppose growing up as he had, not to mention, adding Myror's naturally suspicious and hostile personality played some role in it.

He was once again surprised when he exited the pub to find Merlin waiting for him rather patiently—(surprised over the patiently part, not the waiting that is). But he hid it and gestured with a nod that they could head back to the citadel. It was getting a bit late now…and even if Camelot was generally pretty safe, he still didn't want to paint a target on his back by being caught out after dark. At least not without some visible muscle for protection (even if he knew he could probably handle himself if it came down to it—thanks to Arthur's continued training and his own skill set. It didn't mean he wanted for it to come to that. He did not need the extra attention or scrutiny that would come should he be forced to defend himself).

They maintained their silence as they made their way back up the darkening streets, and Harry liked to think that it was less strained then before. But perhaps that was only wishful thinking on his end. The silence however was interrupted by a sharp intake of air—one, that Harry realized was coming from his companion.

"What?" Harry asked quietly, worried just enough to stop his trek and turn slightly. He frowned when he realized that his brother had not only stopped but had ventured a few feet off to the side into a well concealed side alley.

"Merlin?" he called out softly, hoping to catch his brother's attention and get an answer.

For moment silence once again fell between them and Harry thought the other teen wasn't going to answer him.

"Over here….look!" Merlin's hissed command came back at him. The urgency in his tone had Harry complying with minimal complaint.

When he reached Merlin and saw just what he was indicating at he felt his jaw slacken and revulsion curl in his stomach.

And once again reality struck him. It really wasn't that big of a surprise that he was such a cynical and untrusting person…..for every time he was met with a demonstration or proof of peoples' kindness and humanity, he was just as quickly drenched with proof of their greed and depravity.

He could only stare with resignation back at those terrified black eyes:

The terrified black eyes that belonged to the shivering girl in front of him. The girl who was locked away in both a cage and collar.

-0—

(read note at end of chapter)

Freya, when she concentrated hard and long enough, could still recall a time when her life had been rather blessed. Her early childhood for example had been spent playing (or rather frolicking—but she was not such a sad lass as to use language such as that) among the wild mountains and forests of Freiheit, her doting father and kind hearted mother never far.

It had all changed when the horrid fires that destroyed and taken away so much of her beloved forest had also taken her family, leaving her the sole survivor. She had been sent to live with her maternal aunt whose character was very different from her mother's gentle soul. She could not say that Petrina was cruel-for she did not seek to purposefully cause others woe, but that being said, she was far from empathetic or gentle.

The spinster had never had children of her own and for good reason. She did not like them and she most certainly did not understand them. Her way of dealing with the small traumatized child thrust upon her was to enforce strict and unbending rules and order; something that a child such as Freya, who had grown up in the wild freedom of the mountains did not understand.

It would be the cause of much strife and misunderstanding in the first few years that she lived with her aunt. Of course her own stubborn willfulness did not make things any easier. But still, despite the abrupt change in her life…she coped fairly well. Or at least she liked to think so.

No, her luck at that point, while no longer golden and blessed, was not quite irredeemable and cursed…perhaps a tad tarnished but not get unsalvageable.

That would come three days before her fifteenth birthday. And all because of one disgustingly drunk man who could not control his urges while under the influence. Freya, who had always been the gentlest of souls, who shied away from conflict and violence, surprised herself that night. She had never thought that she was capable of ending another's existence but apparently, when threatened enough, her instincts were just the same as any other human beings. Survival at any cost.

Of course one would have thought that given her reasons for the man's death that others would have understood. He had brought it upon himself after all with both his stupidity and his own unconscionable actions—apparently his mother did not see it that way.

And so her life and luck truly took a turn for the worse.

That unfortunate day was the day that marked her forever onwards as cursed. A mindless beast and killer at the stroke of midnight. She fought her fate at first—for what else could she do? But as the years passed and it became apparent that nothing could stop the change—her freedom even outside of those terrible hours was forfeit.

This was not the first—and likely not the last time she would come to find herself chained and locked away like the wild savage she was cursed to become. While she did not like Halig, it was more because of the type of man he was rather then the fact that he had caught and caged her….at this point in her life, she almost welcomed the death that was sure to be delivered her once he had handed her over to Uther.

Perhaps she would finally get to rejoin her long lost family.

Her retreat into her fonder memories, away from the approaching cold—and now spitting night, was interrupted by a horrified exclamation. It took her a moment or two to focus her weary gaze on the tall slender man standing just a few feet from her—separated of course by the rusting bars that held her captive.

He had lovely eyes she decided—very blue….compassionate. Not that she was fool enough to think that they would remain that way should he learn just why she was caged. Such reckless hopes and daydreams had long since abandoned her.

It was then she felt it—the ripple of energy signifying that this man had a secret of his own….just as, if not more dangerous than her own. It made her sit up and pay more attention to the stressed, urgent conversation being had between him and another.

The other seemed to have a similar sort of feel around him though not quite as apparent* as the blue eyed mans. They were apparently arguing (and not surprisingly) it was about her.

"…can't just leave her here!" the blue eyed man hissed, indignation radiating out from him like a flood.

"I know that. Merlin….what do you take me for?" his companion hissed back just as vehemently. Was the blue eyed man's name Merlin then? Though his companion said it in the manner she had heard the drunks at the local cavern curse and use the lords name in vain, so perhaps not? She forced herself to focus on what was being said instead of letting her attention wander. She was very tired though…and cold. It was hard to always tell reality from the imagined.

"….I am just saying that we should be careful. There…there's something off about this….about her" the last few words were said quietly, as though the speaker did not mean for them to be heard. But they made her heart freeze. Did he know? How could he? Was he working with Halig? For she could not think of any other way he might know of her secret.

"…save your own skin…" blue eyes grit out his glare making those lovely blues icy in their anger.

She didn't catch what the other man said, but saw him throw up his hands and gesture towards the cage in resignation. She watched with mild bemusement and a fair amount of confusion as the blue eyed man's eyes turned gold and the door to her prison sprang free.

So she was right then. He too had secrets…..she glanced surreptitiously at his companion, wondering if he was the same but brushed it off in favor of uncurling her hunched figure to scramble out of the cage.

"Don't worry…I'm not going to hurt you" he said in a soothing voice. Still she shrunk back from his touch—it had been a long while since she had received contact that was not painful.

"Merlin….we need to move" the second man whispered urgently.

The man, Merlin, seemed to deliberate between listening and glaring at the speaker but in the end decided to go with the first and he cautiously placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "Please trust me…I am going to help you, but Henry is right….we need to move before you are discovered"

Freya debated for a brief second before giving a nod of acceptance. She might as well go with them….it wasn't as though she had any better options at the moment. And despite having been ready to accept her death only minutes ago—she had not yet completely lost the instinct that told her to survive at any cost. She would take this opportunity as it was presented to her.

The three of them moved quickly, or as quickly as her weak tired body would permit, through the shadows….finally ducking into one of the entrances that led to the vast and confusing network of tunnels that lay under the city and castle.

It seemed like hours but in reality was likely only mere minutes before Merlin came to a stop and gently guided her into an alcove of sorts that lay hidden off to the side of one of the tunnels. Henry, his companion seemed to survey the spot for a moment before giving a slight nod of approval.

He watched her with a mix of wariness and pity, though there was a definite shadow of suspicion and curiosity in his eyes as well. It set her ill at ease but she couldn't help but notice that he too had rather lovely eyes. The men looked somewhat similar to each other—she would bet that they were related, at least distantly.

"Here" he said after a minute taking off his jacket and handing it to her. It had definitely seen better days but beggars can't be choosers…. not to mention it was probably still warm despite its appearance.

Still she was wary about accepting too much from them….after all she still didn't know what they wanted or expected from her. Her reflexive shift away from him seemed to soften his eyes and he held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just thought you might be cold. "

When she didn't move forward to take the jacket he set it on the ground and took a few steps back. Years ago she would have been offended by such a move—like she was a wild, frightened animal. Now though, she knew just how true that sentiment actually was.

She decided to ignore the jacket for now; she could retrieve it after they left…if they left that is. Turning her attention back to Merlin—for he seemed far less suspicious of her then the smaller man, she couldn't stop the question that had been hounding her since he had opened her cage, "Why did you do that?"

Surprise flitted across his face and he looked momentarily taken back by the question, "What?"

"Help me" she clarified. She had to know—despite experience telling her that it was better to leave such questions alone.

He paused for a long moment, before speaking and she realized that she wasn't the only one waiting for his answer.

When Merlin did finally answer, it did give her suspicions of the weird energy around him some weight, "Well, I saw you and...it could've been me in that cage." He seemed to hesitate as though wanting to say more but a quick glance over at the other man had him stopping, "You'll be safe down here. I'll come back in the morning with some food and candles. Will you be alright till then?"

Growing more and more curious as to the relationship between the two, Freya found herself nodding.

Merlin sent her a brief but genuine smile and moved further back out of the out clove before pausing, "I'm Merlin, by the way…and" he seemed to swallow before forcing himself to continue, "…this is my brother Henry."

The way he said brother made it seem as though the term was particularly difficult for him to spit out. Not that Henry seemed that surprised by the fact or even really all that offended. He sent her a friendly but guarded nod of his head.

Deciding that they had earned a name at least for their aid in freeing her, she sent her own cautious smile back, "I'm Freya"

"Freya" Merlin repeated as though sounding the name out to see how it felt on his lips, he smile grew slightly and he stooped down to pick up his brother coat to hand it over. This time she hesitantly accepted it.

"We…I'll see you in the morning Freya" he corrected himself glaring at his brother when it seemed as though he was going to say something. Henry shrugged and turned away to start making his way out of the underground labyrinth.

Freya waited until both of the men had moved out of sight, leaving her once more on her own. "Thank you" she whispered to the empty air. And she could almost convince herself that she meant it.

Almost.

-oo—

Time passed slowly in the dark—or near dark she should say, since she did have the slight illumination provided by the few candles that Merlin had left her. Still, with the continued search for her (according to Merlin they had discovered her empty cage far sooner than he had hoped) she was hesitant about using the candles too much.

But to be fair, it wasn't just the dark and the uncomfortably cold and dank air around her that made it seem as though she had been under the city, hidden away in these tunnels for months rather than a few days. No, it was the situation itself.

The sheer hopelessness and weariness that seemed to stalk her in the unending quiet; for she was no fool, she knew that even if she should escape capture this time around, that they would continue looking for her…and if not them, then someone else who the monster inside of her had wronged over the years. Or worse someone it would come to harm in the future. It was why it was called a curse after all, it was something that she could not and would never escape from.

And she was so very tired.

Still she saw the determination and optimism that steeped those blue eyes and she could not bring herself to show her true feelings. She had lost a lot of kindness and good will over the years, but she was not cruel enough to want to snuff that light out of her savior. So she continued on pretending: pretending that everything was going to be alright, that it would all work out in the end if only they believed and tried hard enough.

Henry was a different story.

The other man had come back to visit her with Merlin once since that initial night…never on his own, but she saw it in his eyes. He understood.

While she could not call him cruel by any means (he did appear in fact to be rather a kind hearted man) she knew that he was not fooled by her false optimism or the innocent façade that she used on his brother. Perhaps even more then recognizing her deceit, was the fact that he seemed to recognize her situation. He knew that a happy resolution to a situation such as hers was unlikely. Still, he did not say anything—whether because he was respecting her own silence or because his brother was there, she did not know. She wondered how long he would wait before confronting her about it?

The soft sound of a light tread brought her from her thoughts and she quickly extinguished the one candle she had lit for a bit of ambient heat (not that it helped much in that regard), moving as quietly as she could further back into the shadowed alcove.

She held her breath when the footsteps came to a stop just feet from her hidden spot, her mind whirring with worry. Merlin had said that he would not be back today—if it still was today, it was sometimes hard to keep track down here but she was relatively sure she had not made a mistake (she had been using the bell that sounded each morning signaling mass, to tell the start of each new day).

Suddenly her little spot was ensconced in light and a pair of green eyes- only inches from her own—were looking back at her. "Hello Freya"

-0-

"Henry" Freya said allowing her shoulders to relax, if only slightly "what are you doing here?"

Henry looked as though he was going to answer her before stopping and giving a small shrug, holding out the package she just noticed he was carrying as reply.

While still wary and cautious around the man, she trusted him enough by now to know that he would not hurt her….or at least she was pretty sure he wouldn't-if only because his brother's regard for her. She could easily admit that their relationship confused the hell out of her. There was obvious tension and bad blood between them yet, the younger of the two seemed oddly protective despite that fact. She figured it wasn't really her business, although the hours alone in the dark did give her plenty of time to ponder it. "For me?" she questioned reaching out and taking the bundle (which was apparently a loaf of bread and another few candles) from him.

"Yea—yes, Merlin was worried about not being able to come today. Arthur has him running ragged helping with the….er helping. So I told him that I would come in his place. Figured you'd probably be running low on candles at the very least" Henry answered looking a bit awkward now that his hands were freed from his purpose.

"He's helping him with the hunt isn't he?" she asked more curious then really offended. Merlin was Arthur's man servant after all….and considering he had helped her escape in secret it only made sense that he would have to help search for the escapee to keep up appearances.

Henry gave a hesitant nod, eyes scanning the dank tunnel restlessly. "Are you…have you been doing okay…here I mean?"

The fumbled but genuine question was perhaps the reason why she had started to feel less wary towards this man. For even though she knew that he did not trust her, and that he knew more about her then he let on or that she would have liked, he could still care enough about her to ask after her comfort. It was what separated him from all the others in the past she had encountered. It did not explain why he cared though.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. She knew that this was the second time that this particular question had been voiced but the last time it was directed at Merlin not his brother.

Henry didn't look as surprised as Merlin had by the question but he looked just as uncomfortable over it. "Why wouldn't I?" he answered back.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at his avoidance. Why couldn't he just answer the question? It wasn't that difficult of a question…."I don't know that is why I am asking" she said pointedly, refusing to look away from him. "I get the feeling that you do not trust me….or at least that I unnerve you….so why would you continue to help me—given this?" Maybe if she stopped trying to avoid the elephant in the room and gave voice to something they were both more than aware of but pretending not to be, he would answer her truthfully for once.

Silence expanded between them, making the dripping caused by the prevalent dampness in these tunnels sound deafening. Henry let out a sigh, raking his hands through his hair and pulling the leather strap that held it back out.

"You're right" he finally answered.

Despite his statement Freya still found herself confused, "right?"

"You're right, I don't trust you" he expanded holding up his hand to silence any protest that she might have—though she had none (she knew better than any that she should not be trusted), "It is nothing that you have or haven't done. I really can't explain why and I am sorry for that…but there is something, something about you that puts me on edge. I want to ignore it. Merlin, do I want to….especially given how unfair it is to you…someone who appears to have already suffered and lost so much but….but I can't"

She felt momentarily stunned by his words. Not really sure how she should feel about them she chose to focus on her original question instead, "so then…why are you helping me?"

"Because, despite every instinct in me telling me not to; that this is going to end up badly for all of us… I am human first, not a simple animal ruled by instinct. Logically I can see how much you care for my brother and how much he cares for you in return. I can see, even in the span of a few days, how much you change him just by existing-and for the better. When he talks of you he is less bitter, less angry…and I can't risk him loosing that. So I help" Henry replied shrugging in nonchalance, but Freya ignored the contrived movement in favor of looking at his eyes. And his eyes were anything but dispassionate.

The silence that fell this time was not nearly as cold or heavy as before and she watched as he rolled his shoulders slightly, before straightening his spine and turning to leave.

"Thank you" she whispered once again to the returned isolation and darkness. And this time she just might have meant it.

-0—

Harry pushed open the heavy door, grimacing at the sudden rush of noise that swept over him as it opened. He ignored his discomfort, far too in need of a stiff drink to be turned away by the obnoxious atmosphere of the place.

After the past few days he had had he didn't even feel all that guilty over giving in—he needed all the relaxation that he could get. And if it could only be found at the bottom of a bottle, well then so be it. He was ignoring the part of him (ok, both parts of him) which hated anything alcoholic…(mainly because both Myror and Harry had been forced to deal with their past caregivers under the influence and that was not a pleasant thing) in desperate need for a short term reprieve from his own thoughts.

And as he knew it would, despite his past avoidance of such things—he felt a distinct relief as the cold liquid washed down his throat….slowly, but effectively pushing all thoughts of Freya, Merlin, and Arthur to the back of his mind.

This last week had been hell for Harry; worse than any of the weeks spent trying not to die during the Triwizard cup, worse than camping on the run, worse…okay, almost as bad as a summer at the Dursleys. Then again, he had never had to deal with feeling such conflicting feelings regarding a person before he had met Freya.

He pitied the girl—not because he thought she was weak or incapable but because he knew what it was like to be dealt a hand of cards so sour that no matter how you played them you were going to lose. He did not know exactly what hand the girl had been given, but he could read enough in her posture, face and eyes to know that it was bad. In that sense he wanted to help her, to give her something that no one had ever bother to give him before—support, hope.

If that had been the only thing he felt towards the battered girl then he would not have been feeling so conflicted…so guilty.

Because it wasn't. Yes he pitied her and wanted to help, but another part of him—one that he had come to call his other half, wanted to annihilate the girl. It—he could sense the overwhelming sense of danger and threat coming from her small frame….and even if he did not understand why that was or what exactly that threat meant, he knew that he would be a fool to ignore it. And his 'other' did not seem as though it would allow him to completely ignore it, no matter what Harry wanted.

He had been noticing the other more and more lately and frankly, it scared the shit out of him. He had been wary, a bit nervous perhaps when he had first awoken and sensed a foreign (at least in his mind it was foreign) entity skirting around the outer edge of his consciousness but he had been able to push such worries away, as at that time it had still been the outer edge.

A few weeks later when he no longer could feel the entity (also known as Myror) he had been both relieved and afraid. Relieved, because maybe it meant that Myror's being had finally merged completely with his own and therefore he could no longer feel it as a separate being. Afraid, because of the exact same thing. He could no longer separate them-therefore he could no longer be sure that his thoughts were solely his halves. Still he had been able to confine his concern to the wee hours of the night when he had nothing else to concentrate on and continue as was during the day.

Now though…now, he was experiencing thoughts and feelings that he was positive were not his but Myror's: the overwhelming sense of anger that appeared and disappeared at random intervals and seemed to have no rhyme or reason behind its appearance for one. The suspicion he felt of almost everyone he met and interacted with. The itch that had him constantly identifying threats and yearning to dispose of them. No….these were not things that he would have normally felt—at least not since his mind sharing problems with Voldemort (it was actually eerily similar to his fifth year)—in his past world.

Whatever was happening between his and Myror's halves had gone wrong…it was not what he and the goblins had planned…and he had no idea how to fix it.

-00—

Gwaine snorted into his cup, coughing as the lager he was drinking went down the wrong pipe. A few minutes of hacking had the air in his lungs draw in as normal, and he wiped his eyes—unable to get rid of his smile.

Who would have thought that he; Gwaine of Carelon—a tough scrapper, all around womanizer, and hater of all things noble would ever have felt not only comfortable, but happy in the presence of the famous Knights of Camelot. Not only did he feel both of the former mentioned, but he was in fact a knight of Camelot himself. Fate was a tricky mistress.

Ignoring the drunk ribbing coming from his table mates he allowed himself a step back from his friends to scan the crowed and quickly becoming more so, tavern. It was far from a reputable place—a place that one would expect to find the noble and honor bound knights—but that just made Gwaine love it more.

It was safe to say that Gwaine was not your typical Camelot knight. His behavior, manners and dress definitely did not fall in line with what Uther demanded of his noble warriors (Gwaine was pretty sure the only reason he was a knight at all was because he had come from noble bloodlines and the small fact that he had saved the prince's life….that and the unlikely happenstance that Arthur seemed to take a shine to him). Of course not being the norm found in a knight, applied to the company that he often kept.

Unlike many of his brethren, he did not care to distinguish between classes and social ranking (half of the knights Gwaine served beside had only gone through the intensive training because of the distinguished rank they would receive—snobs the lot of them!). Hell, he was better friends with Arthur's manservant, Merlin then most, if not all, of the nobles he lived amongst.

It was for that reason that Gwaine shouted out a joyous (and very drunken) greeting when he spotted the young and still fairly new physician's apprentice making his way over to the bar. Well that, and the fact that the poor boy looked like his world had been lit on fire while he was forced to watch it burn to the ground. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the chap.

"Oi! Henry!" he gave a yell and attempted to stand up though his effort was rather wobbly so he gave it up for just waving a hand to attract the dark haired boy's attention.

It was not the first time that Gwaine had noticed the teen—how could it be? Gwaine was an admirer of lovely things and there was no doubt, that Henry Emrys was lovely. Far too young for his tastes but lovely non-the-less. No, for once Gwaine's continued interest in the other was not indecent, no he saw a sort of younger brother in the man. Well, he would if said man didn't act so wary and guarded all the time. Not that he was offended by such behavior because it became apparent that Henry Emrys acted that way with everyone, not just him.

Gwaine could not help but think that living such a way had to be lonely. It did bring to question what had happened to the young man to make him such. He would have asked, maybe even pried but Gwaine knew first hand that sometimes secrets and pasts were better left alone. So instead of digging and demanding answers from the smaller man, Gwaine decided that he would be the friend Henry obviously needed but whose pride prevented him asking for.

Henry's green eyes swung around to seek out his addressor, a small (and slightly forced) smile making its way to his face when he spotted Gwaine. He gave a half hearted wave and looked as though he was going to continue on his path towards the crowded bar. Gwaine was not having it.

Putting a lot more effort into standing up this time, Gwaine reached the smaller man with surprising speed and agility for one so drunk. "Hey, come sit with us my friend! You look like you could use some company"

Henry opened his mouth, no doubt to protest or make some excuse before trying to escape once more, but Gwaine never gave him the chance. Latching his much larger hands (and stronger grip) onto the teen's bicep Gwaine all but carried (dragged) Henry over to the table he had been previously sitting at.

His table mates were either too drunk at this point to object the presence of a mere servant or they knew better then to do so when Gwaine had that glint in his eyes. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.

"Sit" Gwaine ordered, forcing Henry down onto the stool beside his own and forcing a drink into his hand, "drink"

Henry paused for a long moment before resigning to his fate and doing just that, the tension that he had been carrying in his shoulders slowly leaking away after several large gulps of the brew. Gwaine took it as a victory.

He didn't bother asking the other man what was wrong, for even as drunk as the teen was quickly becoming, he knew that he would not spill his secrets. Instead he focused on making the other laugh…well that, and continuing to pour copious amounts of liquor down his throat.

By the time that Gwaine had deemed him relaxed enough, Henry was barely conscious. Ooops….

So maybe, he had misjudged the others limit somewhat….

Ahh well, no harm done. Not really. Though there was no way Henry would be able to make his way back to his own quarters and Gwaine might be a nice guy and all, but there was no way he was going to carry the other that distance.

Luckily a solution came in the form of the inn's owner-a man who still owed Gwaine a number of favors, not to mention cash (hey, he was very very good at poker. Oddly enough he seemed to get more skilled the more he drank) and it was easy enough to get a room for the night.

He carried the lax teen up and dumped him on the Spartan but clean bed, making sure to position him so that if he were to throw up he wouldn't choke. Satisfied that Henry was somewhere that he could sober up that was both safe and somewhat comfortable, Gwaine made his own way back to his quarters. Glad once again for his high alcohol tolerance.

He probably wouldn't have thought about the other man again, had he not been awoken three short hours later by the warning and emergency bells ringing throughout Camelot.

He felt his heart pick up when he overheard his squadron's leader say, "Get suited up, and quickly. There has been another attack. This time near Genrup's Tavern….almost everyone there was found injured or dead"

-oo—

The first thought Harry had when he woke up was to wonder if he was dead. The second was to wish it were so.

This was just another reason why one should not drink—or if they did, not drink themselves into unconsciousness. Because sure, for a few hours last night he had been able to forget about everything weighing down on him, but sadly, those things were still here in the morning. Only now he also had a raging headache and mouth that tasted like ass to go along with it.

The latter two could partly be to blame for why it took him so long to realize that he had not woken up in his own room, or any room for that matter. No….when Harry finally managed to crack his crusted over eyes open, he realized that he was lying half propped up on a dirty back street wall...covered in blood.

The wailing of an alarm was ringing through the air, making the already considerable pain in his head monumentally worse and his blood crusted shirt stuck uncomfortably to his skin. All he could do was stare down at it….hoping and praying that he was having some sort of terrible nightmare or even a drunk hallucination.

When he went to push himself up off the wall, the sharp stinging pain to his right shoulder made it obvious that it was neither. By the strange angle his right arm was hanging rather uselessly by his side he deducted that his shoulder was likely dislocated. Now if only he could remember what the hell had happened to have done so.

That was what was really freaking him out at the moment—the large, cavernous blank that was his memory. The last thing he recalled was getting plastered with Gwaine, Percival and Edwin. He had no idea how he had gone from that to this. And since he was currently covered in blood—which as far as he could tell, was not his own, he was a bit freaked out.

Forcing himself to shakily make his way out of the alley to try and make sense of what had happened; hoping that something would twing his own elusive memories, Harry found himself once more facing something that he really did not want to face.

That being- a courtyard strewn with what appeared to be messily torn apart bodies. He barely managed to hold onto his stomach contents when the stench hit his over sensitive nose. What the hell?

Had…had Camelot been invaded while he was off doing whatever he couldn't recall doing? Because this amount of carnage was too much for your average criminal or beast.

The instincts that had caused him to seek out the tavern in the first place, aka the ones that he was not entirely convinced were his, had him moving hastily away from the desolate scene. He knew the bells going off were ones warning people to stay in their houses and calling the knights and soldiers to investigate (or defend from whatever threat there currently was). He instinctively knew that he did not want to be caught here, at the scene of the crime—especially covered in blood as he was.

He was trying really hard not to think about that fact…or let himself contemplate too deeply the reason behind it. No…..worrying pointlessly about things he could not be sure of, or that were just plain ludicrous-just paranoid assumptions really-would not help anyone, least of all him.

He knew one thing for sure however—he was really starting to get really sick of waking up with no memory and covered blood.

-0—

"Hey"

Harry didn't even jump at the playful greeting and the hands that found themselves over his eyes. He had heard the other approaching—the snap of dry twigs was a dead giveaway.

He had been avoiding everyone and everything since waking up yesterday covered in blood. His guilt and worry knawing relentlessly at him making it impossible for him to settle down and act as though everything was normal.

He had briefly thought to go down into the tunnels- partly because it would give him the privacy he so desperately needed, and partly so he could check on Freya. Though he couldn't imagine that the girl had been hurt considering she had not ventured out of the tunnels since Merlin and he had brought her there. Thoughts of how he would explain just why he was covered in blood; blood from some unknown source that was not him, had kept him from doing so.

He could always check up on her later…plus he was sure that Merlin would. Though, it sadly left him with one less place to escape to—forcing him to retreat into the outer layer of the woods for some time alone. His only fear was that Gaius would come and hunt him down….demanding to know where he had been last night and what had happened. Both things that he could not say for sure—at least not if he wanted to be honest.

Thankfully, Gaius had been too busy consulting with Uther and trying to come up with an antidote to the poison that had been found in the few survivors' wounds to worry much about where his errant apprentice had gotten too.

Had the situation not been so dire Harry might have been offended by the apparent lack of care such forgetfulness suggested. Things being as they were however, he was rather thankful for the brief yet much needed reprieve. He had only been praying that by the time anyone thought of him that he would have had time to collect himself enough to reapply his mask of calm and ignorance.

With Arthur's sudden appearance—it looked like he was going to be forced to test his façade much earlier than he had hoped however.

"Your highness" Harry replied trying to keep his tone light. It wouldn't do to go and show just how unwelcome the blond's attentions were right at this moment (sadly that always seemed the case with Arthur—he was nowhere to be found when Harry wanted his attention, but when he needed space…)

Arthur's hands dropped from their place over his eyes and he gave the smaller man a mockery of a frown, "I thought I told you to call me Arthur when we are alone?"

The sheer poutiness the prince was demonstrating had the effect that Harry had been trying and failing to achieve since leaving the bloody scene and finding seclusion amongst the trees, he felt a reluctant smile fighting its way onto his stiff face. "Arthur" he indulged with a slight tip of his head.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the oddness of having Arthur seek him out at a time like this catching up to him. He would have expected the prince to have been still chest deep in the hunt for whatever (or whoever his mind unhelpfully supplied) had been responsible for the massacre. Again his mind supplied that maybe, just maybe, the prince was doing just that by finding where Harry was hiding. A line of thought Harry had been trying very hard to ignore for the past 24 hours. He wasn't all that successful.

"I can't just want to spend some time in your company?" Arthur asked, surprising Harry yet again by plopping down beside him on the fallen log Harry had been brooding on. Then again, he suppose Arthur was not exactly king yet, and unlike Uther he had plenty of experience with the less pristine aspects of quests—such as sleeping, sitting and eating on the ground.

Harry shot him a look, "I just thought that you would have been….um, well busy. You know what with….with the, the killings" –Oh and that didn't sound completely suspicious. Great job dipshit! The voice in his head piped up. He was really starting to wish his inner voice had been a Hufflepuff not a Slytherin…for one it would have been much easier on his self esteem.

"You didn't hear?" Arthur asked in surprise.

"Hear?" Harry parroted his stomach clenching at his apparent ignorance. What was he supposed to have heard? What possibly could have happened since his sojourn into isolation?

"We found and slayed the beast responsible!" Arthur answered him, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

Harry found himself shocked into speechlessness. They had what? It took only a brief moment before a sense of profound relief washed over him. They had found the thing that was responsible for the massacre! That meant that he—a possibility that had been eating away at him since yesterday morning—could not possibly have done it! Harry barely managed to bite back his whoop of exaltation, though he was sure that the brilliant smile on his face could easily be explained away by the mere fact that Camelot was 'safe' again.

"W-What was it?" he finally managed to ask twisting his body slightly so that he could better see Arthur. The fact that they were mere breaths away from each other was not lost on either man.

The proud smile on Arthur's face drooped slightly, a—not regretful, but resigned look replacing it, "It was the escaped prisoner that father had us searching high and low for"

Harry felt the breath in his lungs whoosh out, "w..what?" he shakily asked. Surely he did not mean Freya? But who else could he possibly have meant? Freya was the only prisoner to have escaped recently that Harry was aware of…..he had known that there was something about her that his normally protective nature rebelled against, but that did not mean he had wanted her dead.

He had not been lying to the girl when he said he thought she brought out the best in his brother….oh shit! Merlin-how was his brother going to take this? He may not have loved the girl but he had definitely cared about her….

Arthur let out a sad sigh, shifting uncomfortably, "Yes unfortunately Halig—one of the bounty hunters that Uther relies upon to apprehend dangerous criminals and individuals—had caught a young girl a few weeks back. I guess the girl had been living under a horrible and irreversible curse…one that turned her into a blood thirsty monster. I think Gaius called it a Baset (?), every night"

Harry felt his mind spinning; guilt, horror, remorse, relief, and glee all fighting for dominance.

"There was no other way to stop her. We saw her fleeing the courtyard this morning….she was obviously quite injured which is what drew our attention to her in the first place. She had been partially gutted already by someone…..anyway when we approached she went on the defensive and transformed. We had no other choice but to stop her…."Arthur trailed off looking uncomfortable and a tad defensive.

She had been severely injured? From what Arthur described Freya was as good as dead already—with wounds like that, she would not have survived long. Suddenly the immense relief that Harry had felt previously was a distant memory. His mind kept flashing back to his own injured shoulder and the blood that was not his….

Just what had happened in that courtyard?- he wanted to remember just what he had forgotten, yet at the same time, he knew that he would not like what he found if he did. He had no reason to fear the knowledge…after all Freya was obviously the culprit for the massacre….and if she was truly cursed it would not have been likely that he could have helped her in any significant way.

So why did he still feel so guilty?

Note:

Chapter title: Is both a nursery rhyme (see below) and now a horror movie surrounding a case (august 1892) where Abbey and Andrew Borden where found hacked to death in their home and their daughter (who was known to hate her stepmother and father for marrying her) was accused of their murders. While acquitted of the crime in court—suspicion followed Lizzie border until her death many years later, leaving her to a 'cursed' life.

The rhyme goes like follows:

Lizzie Borden took an axe

And gave her mother forty whacks.

When she saw what she had done,

She gave her father forty-one.

**I know that according to Wikipedia, Freya was actually raised in Druid society before her curse and later banishment—but I wrote her back story before I actually read the page so in this story I am changing the facts slightly ;) I do not think that this small change should have much impact on the overall flow of the story

***again I am changing what happened in the cannon, if only slightly ;)