A/N: A note on the last chapter: A few people have mentioned that the last chapter (chapter 2) of this story was rather melodramatic. Yes, it was, and it was intentional. I could've drawn it out a bit and made it less melodramatic, but I wanted to lay down the basic pre-plot emotional scene before I really start on the main plot, and a more melodramatic scene would, I thought, do this quickly and effectively. So maybe it's not the best. I might go re-write some of it later, but it does its job for now.
Also, a few people have brought some typos to my attention, so a big thanks you y'all. It really helps when people let me know of any mistakes I've made.
"What was she like?" Gwen asked quietly.
Merlin smiled sadly. "Amazing," He said, and she smiled. Of course he would think so. "Strong and brave, in her own way. She lived a rough life, but she was so sweet."
Gwen didn't think Merlin realized that he'd just described himself. "Was she magic, like you?"
He paused before answering. "Yes," he nodded, "She was a druid."
Gwen nodded in understanding. "I bet she was very beautiful."
Merlin smiled. "She'll always be beautiful to me."
Gwen smiled bittersweetly. If Freya were still alive, she would truly be the luckiest girl in the world.
"I miss her," Merlin said after a while.
Gwen put replaced her hand on his back. "How did she die?" she whispered.
Merlin seemed to clam up all of a sudden. "It's… it's not important," He said.
"Merlin, don't say that," Gwen frowned, "Of course it's important – she's obviously important to you."
"Gwen, please," He gave her a pleading look, and she realized that she'd pressed him too far.
"Of course," She said humbly, "It was wrong of me to ask. I'm sorry." He shook her apology aside and began to stare of into space again. After several minutes of silence, Gwen peered at him with a concerned expression. "Will you be alright, Merlin?"
He broke from his trance and smiled at her. "Well, maybe not now. But I will be. Just… Give it some time." He looked down at his feet. "It always takes a little while to… To forget again." He gave her that same mask-like smile again. "I will be alright, Gwen. It'll pass. It always does."
The last three words made her heart ache. Always. He'd dealt with this so many times he'd come to summarize it as one of life's everyday hassles. It shouldn't have to be that way.
"Well, alright," She said eventually. "I'll be here, Merlin, if you ever need to talk to someone. And I'm truly, very sorry." He nodded, and she reached up to hug him around the neck. She prayed silently that he wouldn't always feel so alone. Of all people, Merlin deserved it least. She pulled his head against her so she could kiss his temple before she sat back. "Now eat your breakfast before it freezes. I wish I could stay, but I have to go make sure Arthur doesn't try to cook his own breakfast."
Merlin smiled and thanked the powers that be that Gwen was there for him. She was a mother and a sister and a friend all at once. "Thank you, Gwen," He told her before she left. She merely smiled at him, and he knew that, gratitude or not, she'd always be there.
Merlin had spoken with Aithusa about it all after Gwen had left. The dragon had listened kindly and compassionately to his lord, but was utterly unable to sympathize. Gwen, at least, knew what it was to be in a romantic relationship. Aithusa was still too young to care, even if there was a female dragon in existence, and was of little help. Still, his listening ear helped calm Merlin's mind and put him at ease, so when the dragon left the castle again, the Warlock had to change tactics.
Arthur swore that Merlin was going to become a hunch-backed old hermit if he never came out of that blasted tower. The man hardly even left for meals, and was constantly tinkering away with his astronomy and alchemy equipment toward no apparent end. Eventually, Arthur took matters into his own hands.
"Merlin?" He called, opening the door. He could hear potions bubbling and mortar and pestals grinding around the room. Something dripped and fizzed into a beaker on the table to his left. Merlin was upstairs, but still shouted down to say,
"Whatever you do, do not touch the green one – it could kill you. Or the orange one. Or the… oh, just don't touch anything, prat!"
Arthur rolled his eyes. Hermit or not, Merlin would never change. He smacked an empty beaker out of spite before Merlin could make it down the stairs.
"What do you want?"
"Oh, well it's nice to see you too, Merlin." Arthur feigned hurt. "No 'how nice to see you, Arthur' or 'wow, it's been a long time, Arthur,', 'I'm sorry I've disappeared of the face of the earth, Arthur'."
Merlin drew his eyebrows together. "What are you talking about?"
"Merlin, you haven't left this place for five days."
Merlin gave Arthur a thoroughly incredulous look and shook his head. "I don't think it's been that long." He turned and began to fiddle with a stiller that was slowly dripping out a volatile black substance. Arthur grabbed the man's wrist and wrenched him around so he was looking at Arthur.
"Yes. It has."
Merlin looked at him, half shocked and half hurt, and Arthur's expression softened.
"What's gotten into you?" The king asked, genuinely concerned. Merlin avoided his gaze.
"Nothing, I just… It's… it's nothing." And Arthur knew immediately from his face that it was anything but nothing, but decided to let it pass for the time being. He sighed.
"I don't believe you, but fine, have it your way. Just please, Merlin, it's not healthy. You have to get out of here, at least for a little while."
Merlin paused to think before looking up apprehensively. "…Has it really been five days?"
"Yes."
"Oh." He looked down at the floor. A silence passed between them.
"At least join us for dinner in the hall tonight, Merlin. If you don't show up, I've given Gwaine permission to physically drag you to anywhere that isn't here, and knowing him, he'll probably choose the tavern. So please, be there. I don't want to have to deal with a hung-over sorcerer again." Arthur's tone left no room for argument. He turned to leave, but paused to add: "Oh, and Merlin, before tonight, you might want to bathe."
Merlin frowned at the last comment, and picked at his shirt after Arthur left. He took and experimental sniff and reeled. Maybe Arthur was right. He'd been in that tower for far too long.
Gwen hadn't seen hair or hide of Merlin since they'd spoken about Freya, and she'd begun to grow rather worried about him. When he arrived in the dining hall that night, she was pleased to see that he was clean, alive, and smiling. However, she also noticed that his cheeks seemed a bit more sunken-in than they should have been, his eyes too dark. He obviously hadn't been eating or sleeping well. She bit her lip. Gwen would always feel some measure of motherly instinct toward the men in her life, but for some reason, Merlin in particular always seemed to need extra care. Hunith visited from Ealdor frequently, but in the times that she was away, Gwen upheld an unspoken pact between herself and the warlock's mother that Merlin would always have someone to care for him. Gwen knew that if Hunith could see her son now, she'd be all wrung up with worry.
Still, she made no comment. The other members of the court, who had seen even less of Merlin than Gwen had in the past week, made surprised, pleased greetings as the Court Sorcerer took his seat beside the King at the table. Merlin smiled back, but Gwen noticed that he was using his mask smile again. She thought about asking him privately if he was alright, but then he and Arthur struck up a banter over Arthur's competence in table cutlery, and his mood seemed to lighten considerably.
They ate their dinner in relative quiet aside from the buzz of dinnertime conversation and the banter between Arthur and Merlin. Eventually, however, as servants took away the remainder of the meal, Arthur cleared his throat for the attention of the room.
"Before we wrap up this delightful dinner," He nodded his thanks to the chef, who himself was helping clean up, "I would like to let all of you know that in a short time, we will be hosting visitors in Camelot. Earlier this week, I received a request of visitation from Lord Valas, a ruler from the western kingdom of Drailynn who wishes to strike up a treaty of peace with Camelot."
A murmur of interest went around the table, but Geoffrey spoke up. "I don't believe I've seen that name in any of Camelot's records, your Majesty. Has he visited here before?"
Arthur shook his head. "No. Magic runs in his family," he shot a glance at Merlin. As he'd expected, the Warlock's eyebrows had risen in sudden interest. "In his letter, he explained that he has avoided contact with Camelot in the past for fear of war over magic. They have just now received word that the ban has been repealed, and wish to make peace."
"That's good, isn't it?" Gwen whispered to him, "A peace treaty with a magically ruled kingdom would be healthy for Camelot."
"I thought so as well," Arthur responded in kind. "What do you think, Merlin?" He quirked an eyebrow at the court sorcerer, who shrugged and nodded his head.
"I would say so, though I wasn't aware of any kingdoms with magically-skilled monarchs."
"Yes, well, I didn't know about you until last year." Arthur reminded him. Merlin conceded the point. The king turned back to the main table.
"He and his embassy will arrive in two fortnights. Between now and then, we shall make preparations for their arrival, where we shall treat them to a banquet and a dance in their honor. I hope that his visit will bring new allies and new peace to Camelot." He smiled at the court and nodded. "That is all. I wish you all a good night."
The following weeks were underlined with the constant buzz of preparing the castle for visitors; cleaning out the empty suites, sprucing up the décor of the hallways, revving up the kitchen for a full-blown banquet. There was also gossip about the visiting lord, his magical background, and what an alliance with him might look like to Camelot. The king and queen took it in stride, but the court sorcerer was growing over-excited with the prospect of official relations with a magical family.
Gwen, for one, was happy for the distraction on Merlin's part. After his week-long respite to his tower she'd grown worried that he'd worked himself into a rut of depression that he wouldn't get out of easily. Now, however, all thoughts of his loneliness seemed to have been alleviated, at least for the moment, by his excitement over Camelot's coming visitors.
"I wonder if he was born with magic, like me," He'd ask her as he rummaged through his books on magic.
"Do you think he has a large family?"
"Suppose they use a different dialect of spells in the west."
"I can't wait to talk with him."
"When will he be here, again?"
"D'you think his subjects might have magic, too?"
"Maybe he's come up with a whole guard of sorcerers."
"What if some of them could stay in Camelot – I wouldn't be the only one!"
"I just can't wait to meet him!"
His boyish excitement was so eager, so sincere that Gwen couldn't help but smile as she watched him, day after day, pace around his room and try to brush up on all things magical that he could discuss and ask Lord Valas about. She felt a slight pang of guilt over the fact that even a year after the ban on magic was repealed, Merlin was still the lone sorcerer in Camelot. There were some petty magicians, yes, and a few tentative pupils, but none who began to compare to Merlin's skill and raw power. Perhaps that was another reason he'd grown so lonely: even in a world where magic was legal, Merlin stood isolated from his kin. Yes, Gwen thought, it would be good for Merlin to meet others like him.
Tension and excitement ran high during the last week before Lord Valas arrived. But under the knowledgeable direction of the Queen herself, the castle staff managed to pull off the preparations without a hitch, and Merlin had straightened up his usually disastrous quarters to model a spick-and-span magical haven. He'd even decided to pull out his best robes for the Lord's arrival, premium neckerchief and all.
"You look dapper, Merlin," Gwen commented slyly when he arrived (late as always) in the courtyard to welcome the incoming Lord. She smiled when the sorcerer blushed.
"Eh, I try. Is Valas here yet? Have they seen him? How big a party has he got?"
Gwen laughed at the comically serious look on his face. She bumped his arm in a friendly way. "Calm down, Merlin. Remember to only ask one question at a time when he gets here, alright?"
The heralds blew their trumpets, and Merlin spotted the flutter of red capes as Leon and Elyan escorted the wooden carriage into the courtyard. Merlin straightened his posture and tried not to fidget at they made their way through the gates. Valas' company was surprisingly small, consisting of only a few men-at-arms and a pageboy, all dressed in blue surcoats embossed with Valas' crest: a single sword emerging from between two mountain peeks. The pageboy scurried around the carriage to open the door.
The man who stepped out reminded Merlin immediately of Geoffrey, though slightly less expansive in the gut and with a magically glint in his eye.
"Lord Valas," Arthur greeted with a polite bow. "Welcome to Camelot."
"It is a high honor to finally meet you, King Arthur," He bowed low, as was expected. Arthur nodded.
"The honor is mine. May I introduce my wife, Queen Guinevere," bows and curtsies were exchanged, "and Camelot's Court Sorcerer, Merlin Emrys." Gwen noticed a flash of severe interest in Valas' eyes at the name 'Emrys', but then, she shouldn't have been surprised. She was surprised, however, when Merlin didn't respond. Valas bowed and noted his pleasure at finally meeting the great Emrys, but Merlin didn't react in the slightest. When Gwen looked at him, his face was frozen in a raw expression of shock, fright, and some other emotion that she'd never seen on Merlin's face before. But why? Arthur peeked around his wife to look at his silent friend.
"Merlin?" He asked uncertainly.
Merlin wasn't even looking at Valas, they all realized. He was looking above him and past him, back toward the carriage. Arthur and Gwen looked up and Valas turned around to see what – or rather, who – they were looking at.
"Ah," The lord broke into a smile. "How could I possibly forget." He spread his arms affectionately.
A young woman stood there, hair and eyes dark against her pale skin and dress. She was pretty, but in all rather ordinary looking. Gwen wondered why Merlin was staring at her. Gwen's confusion grew when she realized that she was staring at him, her eyes full of something that Gwen could only describe as dread. But why? She cast inconspicuous looks between the two as Lord Valas began to speak.
"Your Majesties, Lord Emrys, may I humbly introduce my daughter," He tenderly took her hand and ushered her forward, "The Lady Freya."
Arthur and the rest seemed unaffected, but for Gwen it was as though lightning had struck the moment the name left Valas' lips. It echoed in her mind in a growing crescendo as the intense look between the lady and Merlin made sense all at once. It can't possibly be, Gwen thought as she kindly curtsied. Freya and Merlin also lowered themselves in courtesy, but not once did their eyes leave each other's faces. But then, it must be.
Although Arthur was confused by Merlin's strange behavior, no one but Gwen seemed to notice how the two continued to stare at each other as Camelot's knights led Lord Valas' entourage toward the castle. Freya was the one who broke the look first, and hurried past Merlin in a swirl of blue velvet, her eyes trained on the ground. Merlin, for his part, stayed exactly where he was, his eyes staring straight ahead, his face as white as a sheet. Gwen thought he looked like he'd seen a ghost. She watched Freya as she hurried behind her father toward the castle doors.
That's because he has.