AN: Thank you to everyone who read the last few chapters, and those of you who left reviews were amazing! I wanted to post a warning for this chapter. I was inspired after I watched S2E9, so there are references and spoilers to that episode. After Freya died, I felt like something more needed to be said, and it came out in this form...

That being said, reviews are greatly appreciated because I don't want this to be cliche. If anyone feels like I went overboard on the angst or wrote someone out of character-definitely possible with this one-please leave something. Even a few words in a review could help me work at getting a better result. This chapter is quite a bit heavier than the last two, but I think it fits. It also has a focus on emotional pain/angst. I hope everyone enjoys. Namaste.

Disclaimer: Merlin still isn't mine.

*Words italicized are most likely actual quotes from the episode. Only a few aren't.*

3. Fever

Midmorning sun crept silently through the windows of the physician's chambers. Unaware of the new day, Gaius slept on, face pressed into the old book he had fallen asleep reading. Arthur burst into Gaius' quarters angrily, startling the old physician awake.

One look said it all: Arthur was in a head-cracking mood.

Every line of his posture indicated fury, and he scowled, placing his hands on his hips. "Where is Merlin?" he demanded. Gaius resisted the urge to raise his eyes to the heavens, and stood up, wincing as his back issued a series of pops and cracks.

"I expect he is still sleeping, Your Highness," Gaius said respectfully.

Merlin, Arthur and several of the knights had been on a hunting trip that had lasted ten days, from which they had returned late last night. Arthur and the rest of the knights had immediately retired to their chambers for some rest. Merlin had been about to follow suit, but Arthur had ordered him to see to all the gear.

Merlin had spent the better part of the night cleaning and mending clothes, washing dishes, skinning and cleaning the game they had taken, and taking care of the various weapons that had been brought on the trip.

Gaius had meant to wait up for Merlin, but had fallen asleep reading one of the old tomes on herbal medicine. Merlin had come back to the physician's quarters in the wee hours of the morning, chores finished and stumbling with weariness. He had promptly made his way to his bed and collapsed.

Arthur remained unimpressed. "Just because he stayed up a little late last night doing chores doesn't mean he gets to have a lie-in today. I expect him to report to my chambers in ten minutes," he said authoritatively.

"Prince Arthur, please," Gaius said beseechingly. "If he could just have today off to recover from the trip—"

At that moment, a pale figure with a dark head of sleep-tousled hair emerged unsteadily from the back room. Gaius looked at his young ward and instantly knew that Merlin was not well.

The dark smudges under his eyes were accentuated in his too-pale face, and he was shivering slightly, although the chambers were a comfortable temperature. He stood there in rumpled clothes, and looked back at Gaius and Arthur with something like confusion.

"Ah, Merlin. Good, you're awake," Arthur said, oblivious to Merlin's condition. "You're running late today, but after yesterday I suppose it can be forgiven this once. Get dressed quickly and come with me. We have a lot to do today," Arthur said, pleased that his servant was awake. Merlin just stood there uncomprehendingly, and Gaius had the sudden feeling that Merlin hadn't heard.

Suddenly, Merlin snapped his head up, and his fever-glazed eyes swept through the room. He began moving, in shaky, uncertain steps, grabbing a small knapsack and stuffing random items inside. "We'll need supplies. Food, water, horses," he mumbled to himself. "We'll go somewhere else, don't worry. Mountains, fields. Wildflowers. I'll look after you. A lake."

"Merlin?" Gaius asked uncertainly, taking a step towards the swaying young man.

"Merlin, we came back from the trip yesterday, remember? We don't need any supplies," Arthur said, clearly confused. Gaius inhaled sharply, and felt his heart sink in despair. Merlin wasn't talking about Arthur, not about Arthur at all.

Merlin tried to make out the words that Arthur was saying, but they fell from his lips too quickly to catch, spiraling into silence. His head ached, and he felt strange, disjointed. There was something he needed to remember, something important. He grasped at memories, the bag held loosely in his hand. He needed to pack supplies; he and Freya were leaving Camelot together, not coming back ever, ever, ever. They were going to find a nice place where they could just be together, living without fear and everything would be perfect and—

Merlin's thoughts hit a brick wall of uncertainty. He felt like something had happened to Freya, although he couldn't remember what for the life of him. He was dimly aware of Gaius stepping forward, and he heard his name being called from far away. None of this mattered, only Freya and their escape, he needed to get out.

Suddenly, dizzily, he remembered Freya, remembered crying as she lay so still and silent in a beautiful dress. You remembered, and she was looking at the flowers and the sky and the mountains and the lake.

I'm so sorry

You've already saved me

Merlin straightened up, grabbing a small cooking knife from the table and extending it with a shaking hand. He began to walk towards Arthur, the room tilting around him, making it hard to keep his balance. He stood in front of Arthur, brandishing the knife like it was a sword. It was you, Arthur.

"Merlin," Arthur said, bewildered. "What the devil are you doing?"

Merlin fought a wild urge to laugh. "Looking at him," he said, then crumpled to the ground, knife skittering across the floor.

Gaius moved forward quickly, pressing his fingers to the unconscious man's neck, seeking a pulse. After a moment he found it, beating much too fast. He could feel the heat coming off of Merlin in a high fever. Arthur dropped to his knees a moment later, next to Gaius.

"Is he alright?" he asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice.

"I don't know," Gaius said, not bothering to hide his disquiet. "Help me get him over here," Gaius said, gesturing to one of the cots on the far wall of the room. Together they lifted Merlin and set him down on the cot, where he tossed restlessly, semi-conscious. Gaius felt his brow, which was covered in sweat despite his shivering frame.

"Get me some blankets from the cupboard," Gaius ordered, waving a hand behind him. Arthur moved to do as he said. Gaius brushed back Merlin's hair, and listened to his long shuddering breaths with concern.

"He was fine yesterday," Arthur said. Gaius nodded, unsurprised. "Likely, it is the effect of many nights of sleeping in an unsheltered place, exposure to the elements. The lack of proper rest last night must have put his system over the edge."

While Gaius continued fussing over Merlin, Arthur shifted his weight guiltily. All he had wanted was for the chores to be done. He supposed that they could have waited until today, when Arthur and the rest of the knights could have helped Merlin with them.

Merlin's eyelids fluttered, and Gaius felt something akin to panic as he caught sight of gold glinting beneath dark eyelashes. Without warning, a vase on a nearby table fell to the ground and shattered spectacularly into a thousand pieces. Arthur whirled around in shock.

"I…must have left it too close to the edge. Not to worry, Sire," Gaius hurriedly explained.

"Yes, well. I think I'll leave you too it then," Arthur said awkwardly. "I suppose I'll get back to the training grounds; I'm sure the knights are waiting for me."

"Yes, very good, Your Highness," Gaius said eagerly, seizing on the opportunity to get Arthur out of his chambers so he could try to help Merlin in earnest.

Arthur nodded his head in ascent and turned on his heel. Once the door had swung closed behind him, Gaius turned back to Merlin. The young man was tossing about restlessly and muttering to himself, English with snatches of magic words thrown in. Other objects fell off the shelves at random, and the mop bucket fell over with a resounding clatter that made Gaius jump despite himself. At last, Merlin began to settle into an uneasy sleep. Gaius felt his forehead, and clicked his tongue in displeasure; it was still much too high. He fetched a rag and a bucket of cool water, and set it on top of Merlin's fevered brow. The dark-haired man shuddered as if touched by ice.

For the next few hours, Gaius tended to Merlin's fever, replacing the cloth when it became warm, and doing everything he could to make his charge more comfortable, which was frustratingly little. Gaius dozed in his chair, lulled by the quiet chambers and the unusual absence of people to treat.

Suddenly, Merlin's eyes snapped open. Gaius instantly leaned forward.

"Merlin?" he asked tentatively.

The man's eyes were glassy and unnaturally bright. He looked at Gaius, but Gaius had the odd feeling that he wasn't seeing what was in front of him. Merlin seemed attuned to something entirely separate from reality, almost as if he was looking into a different time.

"I have to get her out of the city," Merlin said to himself, the fever slurring his words slightly.

"No, Merlin," he said, gently. "You can't help Freya now. She is gone."

Merlin's gaze sharpened; he seemed to understand the meaning, and looked at Gaius beseechingly, almost pleadingly.

"Where has she gone? I will follow her," he said, determination flashing across his thin face.

Gaius felt his stomach twist further. "Where she has gone, you cannot follow," the old man said, heart full of sadness for his surrogate son.

Merlin's jaw trembled, and Gaius saw unshed tears in his eyes. He suddenly went still, and looked up at the ceiling, seeming to lose focus. Gaius breathed a small sigh of relief, hoping that Merlin would fall back asleep.

Merlin remained semi-lucid, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing, but the pounding in his head was making it hard to focus on anything for too long. He painstakingly pulled at his memory, trying to obtain any information that would help him now. He distantly heard Gaius muttering something, and immediately felt a wave of crushing exhaustion rush over him. He fought desperately against it, trying with all his might to remember. He looked to his left, and his frantic breath caught in his throat.

There, on the stool beside the cot, was Freya. Through the dim blanket of fatigue thrown over everything, she seemed impossibly real, bursting with vitality and irrefutable energy. Her hair fell down her back in glossy curls, the way he had known it would when washed and combed. She was wearing the dress he had stolen from Morgana's wardrobe, and she looked even more beautiful than Merlin had imagined. His heart hammered in his chest as she leaned in, her eyes sad.

"Fear for naught, my love," she murmured, running a hand that felt blessedly cool over his hot face. "I am here." He closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch.

"Gaius said that—that you were—" Merlin choked up, not daring to speak it, hoping she would contradict him. Instead, she nodded solemnly.

"I am."

Time seemed to freeze for Merlin, as he felt the pain of losing her anew, as raw as the first.

"I wish I could go with you," he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. "I don't want to be alone."

Freya shook her head, and Merlin saw candlelight reflected in her tears as well. "You cannot follow me here. I was taken from this world much too soon, but I was gone even before I came to Camelot. I was dead the moment the sorcerer cursed me, Merlin. I knew it, as you surely did," she said, seeing Merlin flinch at her admission.

"No, I don't accept that," Merlin said desolately. "If I had gotten you out of Camelot fast enough, you would still be…here. We would have our cottage near the mountains. By the lake." Tears rolled down Merlin's face uncontrollably as he mourned for the loss of everything that could have been, for the things that now would never be. Shunned in a world wary of magic, forced into hiding, they had found solace and acceptance in each other.

And now she was gone.

"We could have had everything we wanted," Freya murmured, reflecting his misery.

Merlin felt his grief tightly coiling in on itself, trying to find a reason, some purpose to pinpoint, something to blame. He found it, and the pain he felt slowly built into a white-hot, immutable rage.

"Arthur did this to me. To us," he said, starting to tremble.

Freya just looked at him sadly, sharing his thoughts.

"This is Arthur's fault," Merlin said to himself again, almost shocked at hearing it.

"This cannot go uncontested," Freya said to him, suddenly, urgently. "What he did, everything we could have had—"

"I understand," Merlin said, fighting to get up, struggling to end this once and for all. Through the haze, he felt gentle but firm hands holding him down, and tiredness washed over him again heavily, leaving him dazed.

As the room began to fade around him, he struggled against the oncoming tide, not wanting to leave Freya alone, not ever again. "I will remain here, Merlin," she said immediately, seeming to know his thoughts. "Rest now." Merlin felt himself sink into oblivion, comforted by the reassurances of encouraging whispers in his ear.

Gaius released Merlin's shoulders and sank back into his chair, wiping a few tears from his own eyes. Merlin was deeply in the fever's hold, and was delirious. Gaius had said a small sleeping charm over him, but Merlin had surprised him by fighting it fiercely. He had started talking then, and from what was being said, Gaius could only assume he was speaking to a fever-dream of Freya. The last few words had been said so quietly that he hadn't been able to hear. Gaius sighed, and took himself to his room, knowing that nothing else could be done for Merlin. The sleeping spell would last the rest of the evening, and, lords willing, he would be better tomorrow. Dropping onto his bed, Gaius immediately fell into a light, troubled sleep.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

The stars slowly appeared, unblinking eyes that watched and noted the passage of time as they turned in the night sky. Merlin's eyes snapped open, awake but not entirely conscious. He looked around slowly, trying to get his bearings. He dimly noted that Gaius wasn't present. Freya stood by the door, beckoning silently. Come, there is work to be done.

He began to pull himself up with great difficulty. His head pounded and his body ached. That was nothing compared to what he had felt when he knew Freya was gone. He would make Arthur pay, wouldn't stop until Arthur felt his pain, felt Freya's pain.

Now with a purpose, he struggled to a standing position, swaying badly. He started walking towards the door, lost his balance and fell against the table, jarring it heavily and knocking jars and books off in a haphazard mess. Heedless of his muscles screaming in protest, Merlin started again, legs wobbling unsteadily. Gaius, woken by the noise of the falling objects, rushed out of his room to see his young charge standing in the center of the room, leaning heavily against the table and looking ready to collapse.

"Merlin, you shouldn't be up yet," Gaius said, rushing over to his side. The young man was shaking like a leaf, fighting just to stay upright. "Back to bed," he said soothingly. In a sudden burst of energy, Merlin tried to push Gaius away. "No! I have to go find Arthur!" Merlin shouted, suddenly afraid that the physician would stop him.

"Merlin—" Gaius wrestled with the weaker man for a moment. Merlin struggled valiantly, and felt an unprecedented rush of power in his eyes. Gaius flew away from him as if pushed hard, and crashed into the wall. The combination of impact with the wall and his old age left him gasping for breath, trying to blink away the black spots that danced in his vision.

"I'm sorry, Gaius." Merlin looked at Gaius with sadness that made his heart ache. "I have to do this. Don't stop me." With that, Gaius felt his limbs go heavy, his eyelids closing of their own accord. Merlin, even weak with fever, was a powerful warlock, and he couldn't fight the spell.

Merlin sighed shakily as Gaius went limp, then slipped into the night, holding Freya's hand.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLN

Arthur laughed and clinked his goblet with the man directly across from him, someone on the Council who was vaguely important. Arthur was only half-aware of the activity around him. He was bored by the social event that his father had forced him to attend as future king, and uninterested in noble words and ideals as Camelot, flawed in itself, remained a symbol of hypocrisy, in Arthur's opinion. As he traded banter and flashed meaningless smiles, the doors to the main room burst open.

Merlin stood there, head raised, looking directly at Arthur. Arthur stared back, shocked by the unexpected arrival of his servant. He noticed that Merlin still looked sick, and spoke quickly, before someone else in the room could.

"Merlin, what are you doing here?" he asked, hoping to dissuade Merlin from interrupting further.

"I've come for you, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin said, voice weak but carrying in the silent hall. "To seek reparation for Freya."

"Who is Freya?" Arthur asked, baffled. His servant showing up in the middle of a feast concerning the Council was bad enough, but doing so while obviously sick was tantamount to a death sentence if Uther was in a rotten mood.

"Forgive me, Father," Arthur quickly said, trying to cover for Merlin. "My servant is sick, quite delirious with fever, and he should be resting," he said pointedly, hoping the raven-haired man would take the hint. Merlin however, only looked more upset.

"Freya is—was," he corrected himself slightly, "the druid girl that escaped Halig, the bounty hunter. She had a name. She had a life. She only wanted to be left alone. That wasn't enough for King Uther of Camelot and his son Arthur, was it?" Merlin started quietly, his voice steadily rising until he was all but yelling the last line.

"We just wanted to be left alone! We wouldn't have hurt anyone. Why couldn't you have left us alone?" Merlin shouted, trembling all over, partly from sickness, partly from rage.

"Merlin, you need to leave. I'll talk to you later," Arthur said dismissively, trying anything to get Merlin out of the room where the nobles and his father could see. Even as he said the words, his mind was whirling, trying to place what Merlin was talking about.

We? The girl had been alone, and she had been a monster, at that. She had seemed violent, and Arthur had held no more attachment to her death than he would a deer's. She had hurt citizens of Camelot, therefore she was a threat, something to be eliminated for the greater good. On the heels of that thought, he realized that he hadn't hesitated before he'd taken the final swing at her with his sword, hadn't questioned anything while his father had ordered her death.

He had killed her. And he hadn't even known her name.

Merlin stood at the doors, swaying and breathing rapidly, clearly weak yet furious.

Uther stood up, clearly impatient with this disruption. "Guards!" he called, summoning them.

Two guards appeared behind Merlin and grabbed his arms, meaning to haul him away.

Merlin suddenly began struggling. His thin but surprisingly strong frame almost managed to slip through the guards' hands, and his eyes imperceptibly flashed gold. With a hard shove aided by magic, the guards flew back into the opposite wall and slipped to the floor, unconscious. The people of the Council crowded together on the other side of the room, as if seeking refuge beside their king.

"Merlin—" Arthur began, but the rage-fueled man was already looking at him. Arthur began to back away, but Merlin's eyes flashed again, pulling the rug behind him into a pile, which Arthur promptly tripped over, falling backwards onto the stone floor.

Merlin walked up to Arthur, seething with hatred. Somewhere, his mind snagged on a doubt. Merlin shook his head roughly, trying to justify it to himself. This man was responsible for most of the things that had happened to him anyway. Freya had been unforgiveable. Looking up, he saw her standing a short distance away, and felt his resolve harden.

She was gone forever, because of Arthur. Whatever Merlin did to Arthur, it wouldn't touch the pain of having the only one who understands you ripped cruelly away for the same reason that bound you together.

Arthur lay on the ground, winded and looked at his servant. Merlin's eyes were bright, shining with the eerie, backlit glow that accompanies high fevers, and he looked about to fall over at any moment. Arthur felt the force of his rage more sharply than he had felt the fall to the floor. He had never seen anyone look so full of fury, had never felt such naked hatred directly.

Merlin advanced, and Uther made as if to stop him. Merlin's eyes flashed for a final time, and Uther found himself suddenly slumping in his chair, unable to fight the exhaustion rolling over him. The other members of the Council reacted similarly, some falling to the floor.

Arthur looked over at them in worry, then back at Merlin. "How—"

"She was innocent, Arthur. She was free of blame, and you killed her anyway," Merlin said to him, face frighteningly blank.

"Merlin, I did what I had to do," Arthur said, knowing that this answer was hopeless, an excuse.

Suddenly, Merlin's face became animated again, and a dark look of wrath passed terrifyingly across his sharp features.

"You could have disobeyed your orders! You could have given me time to get her clear, we could have gone and never bothered any of you again!" Merlin shouted, tears threatening. He fought them back; now was not the time for tears. He must be strong.

Arthur just stared back at him, remorse reflected in his eyes. "I know, Merlin. I know." Arthur said, feeling the weight of his crime settle on his shoulders fully for the first time. "I'm sorry." The words sounded hollow and meaningless to Arthur's own ears in the face of such a depravity.

To Merlin, they sounded mocking, a display of command in the face of those powerless to stop it.

"You're sorry," he said, sounding almost disbelieving. "I loved her. She loved me. And you're sorry."

Suddenly, he rushed to where Arthur was lying on the ground, frighteningly fast. Merlin pulled out the knife he had taken from Gaius' chambers and held it to Arthur's throat.

Arthur's steady blue eyes looked straight into Merlin's clouded ones. "I have wronged you, this I know. If this is what you truly wish, then let it be. I'll not stop you," Arthur said, not dropping his gaze.

He looked past Arthur and saw Freya, seated on the other side, watching the exchange silently. Suddenly, Merlin wavered. Arthur still stared at him, bravely facing death. Merlin, however, was focused on Freya. As he watched her, a tear traced silently down her lovely face.

Merlin sat astride his master, ready to take revenge for all that he had lost, and froze. Knife still held at Arthur's throat, he was too weak to strike and too filled with hate to stop. He pressed the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood that seemed startlingly red against Arthur's skin. Still, Arthur refused to look away.

The vibrant crimson made Merlin drop the knife with a hollow realization. Losing Freya had been almost unbearable. Losing Arthur as well would be worse. "Killing you won't bring her back," he said numbly, too spent to muster any emotion for it. He fell away from Arthur, stumbling backwards. His eyes slid closed as the fight went out of him. Arthur bent over him, and he went unconscious. The last thing he saw was Freya kneeling next to him, smiling gently. He could see the mountains and the lake reflected in her eyes.

Arthur took Merlin's pulse, and was enormously relieved when he found it. Gaius suddenly burst into the room, looking completely frayed.

"He's here, Gaius," Arthur said, gesturing to the unconscious servant.

Gaius hurried over, dropping down beside them. "Sire, your neck—" Gaius began, noticing the red.

"It's nothing," Arthur said. "Is Merlin alright?"

"His fever has finally broken," Gaius said, tremendously relieved. "He should be fine."

Arthur stayed silent, but Uther and the other members of the Council began to stir. Uther groaned, and sat up, gaining his bearings quickly. "Where is that servant?" he asked menacingly.

"Merlin was very sick, Father," Arthur said immediately, hoping to placate his father.

"That is not sufficient justification to attack the Royal Court," Uther said.

"He didn't know what he was doing. The fever made him delirious," Arthur said, reasoning with him.

Uther glared at Merlin's lifeless form suspiciously.

"Before I fell unconscious, I could have sworn I saw—" Uther began.

"Merlin took the drinks from the cook before they were delivered here. He mixed a sleeping draught in, then gave them to the serving boy," Gaius lied smoothly.

"I hadn't taken a drink yet when he walked in," Arthur said, accepting the explanation.

Uther nodded his understanding, then looked back to the Court Physician.

"How ill was the boy?" he asked. Gaius took his meaning immediately.

"He cannot be held responsible for his actions, Sire. His fever was so high, I'm quite sure he had no idea what he was doing," Gaius said.

"I suppose there's no real harm done then," Uther grudgingly admitted. "However, we cannot have servants planning harm to the royal family. When he awakes and is well enough, send him to me. I shall have him dismissed," the king finished.

"Father, he is my servant. I shall deal with him," Arthur said quickly, trying to spare Merlin.

"This cannot go unpunished, Arthur," the older man said coldly, looking at his son in surprise.

"And it shall not," Arthur responded. "I will see that Merlin gets what is deserved."

The king nodded. "Very well. Take him away."

He summoned a guard to pick Merlin up and carry him back to the physician's chambers, with Gaius leading the way and Arthur following.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMELRINMERLINMERLINMERLIN

Arthur looked down at his servant, now sleeping peacefully on his bed and sighed.

Gaius had retired to his own room, knowing Arthur needed a few moments with Merlin.

"I know that I took her from you," Arthur said to Merlin, who didn't stir. "You loved her, and I ended what you had. There is no forgiveness in such a deed, no thanks. There is only loss and grief, and I will never be able to take it back. For that, I am truly sorry, Merlin." He cleared his throat suddenly and straightened. "I wish you had trusted me. I could have helped you," he said sadly, suddenly inconsolable.

He turned and walked out of the chambers without a word to Gaius, who wisely stayed silent. Merlin's face, peaceful in sleep, was marred by a single tear running from the corner of his eye, sparkling in the candlelight. He was dreaming of a pretty girl with tangled hair and ragged clothing. She was surrounded by wildflowers and light, in a field next to a lake and mountains. She was smiling.