Well, I'm back home for the summer after two full semesters at Uni (I am no longer a freshman… Weird!) and with any luck, that means I'll have more time to update. It's a good thing, too, because the sequel to this fic (Yes, I've got a third installment planned) has been nagging me like nothing else. I've been tossing about a few titles in my head, but one of the working titles is: Stand, Speak, Listen. I haven't settled on anything particular yet, and I can't give out details just yet, but… Yes, A Second Chance will have a sequel!

In the meantime, enjoy the new chapter! Things have revved up, but they're still not quite up to speed just yet…

When Valas and Freya arrived in Camelot, everyone knew they would have a lengthy visit. New alliances and treaties weren't formed overnight, and the distance between the two kingdoms ensured that the visiting nobles had to resupply and regroup before they trekked back to their homeland. Of course, no one outside of the Royal family and their closest friends knew that treaty negotiations were Camelot's last priority when it came to Lord Valas and his daughter. Life, death, murder, and conspiracy were far more important. Thanks to Valas' new threat, however, they kept the matter as quiet as they possibly could. Freya had gone to Merlin the next day to warn him.

"He can't know that you know," She'd told him in secret. When she explained what he'd said to her, Merlin agreed to play the fool around Valas, should the chance arise. In the meantime, he would quietly continue his research, warn the king and queen, and as often as he could, take advantage of Valas' leeway in seeing Freya.

In their new freedom to see each other, the relationship between Merlin and Freya was solidly reestablished over the next weeks. It was chaste as it had always been, but with a newer, comfortable quality that came with their maturity, and a freedom that neither had been able to experience before. When they'd first met, they were forced to hide from Uther, and then, years later, from Valas. But now, with neither scrutinizer to worry about, Merlin and Freya were unafraid to engage in a quiet, unofficial courtship.

The court loved it.

Aside from the normal gossip that arose when anyone of note entered a romantic relationship, the court and even peasantry seemed inordinately pleased that their court sorcerer had taken a ladyfriend. Contrary to what he might've expected, Merlin's bachelorship hadn't gone unnoticed, and some had begun to wonder if he wouldn't just spend the rest of his life cooped up in his tower. The prospect of romance for the young magician (and, as the gossip inevitably fell, the prospect of a wedding) sat very well with the court, save for one or two ladies who had secretly been holding out their own hopes for Emrys' affections. Nevertheless, no one in Camelot could escape the quiet hum of enthusiasm that buzzed whenever the subject of Emrys and his humble Lady came up in conversation.

Freya didn't mind the talk that she heard, though it embarrassed her to some degree to realize that others were talking about her where she couldn't hear. Since earning a nobleman's station, Merlin had mastered the skill of dignified ignorance when it came to court gossip, and it served him well to safeguard his easily-flustered conscience. Whenever Freya would mention whatever people were saying about them on that particular day, his face -his ears especially- would flush turnip red. The effect tended to multiply after she giggled at his reaction.

Arthur and Gwen showed quiet and friendly support as Merlin and Freya became the new 'item' of Camelot. Arthur broached the subject with Valas once or twice to gauge his opinion, but the Sidhe-turned-noble was incredibly good at hiding his true emotions. The pretend Valas, Valas the Dralynnian Lord, seemed to be pleased with his daughter's new suitor, especially seeing that Merlin was a master of the magical arts that Dralynnia valued so highly. He played up his pleasure even to the point of once suggesting an alliance marriage to Arthur – an idea that Arthur kindly rejected in lieu of waiting to see what his Court Sorcerer might say.

Still, Arthur wondered if the real Valas, Valas the Sidhe, had any more sinister thoughts. They hadn't heard anything about Valas, good or bad, through Freya in quite some time. The Sidhe seemed to have been distancing himself from them all for whatever reason. It was a comfort in day-to-day living, but both Arthur and Merlin were growing restless. It couldn't possibly last.

Wrapped up in these thoughts, Arthur sat in a comfy chair with an abandoned book, squinting at the back of Valas head. The pretend lord had his back turned as he mulled over a game of chess, but Arthur glared at him anyway, wondering if Merlin could read minds, and, if he could, if he could teach Arthur how to do the same.

"Penny for your thoughts," Gwen put a loving hand on Arthur's shoulder as she came up from behind. He looked up at her briefly and fixed his eyes back on Valas.

"I dunno," He hummed, "It's a bit of a muddle… Care for a word on the balcony?" He asked quietly, careful so that Valas might not hear. She nodded and allowed him to rise and lead her outside.

"Any word from Merlin, about…?" Gwen wouldn't finish, even though they were alone.

"No. Not lately. He seems frustrated that it's taking him so long to go through his library, and I don't want to push him too hard. He's doing the best he can."

Gwen nodded, and watched her husband quietly, waiting for him to voice his thoughts. Arthur noticed and sighed as he tried to sort it into words. "How do we tell?" He said eventually.

"Tell what?"

"What Valas is thinking – he's too good an actor. Freya seems at a loss about him, too."

Gwen was concerned about the same thing. "Yes, I asked her about it at breakfast, she said she couldn't get anything out of him – said he's barely talking to her."

Arthur sighed. He was afraid of that.

"Have you asked Merlin?" She asked.

"What, and brave the cave of books he's trapped himself in? Honestly, I'm afraid to. Last time I saw him this stressed, my room exploded. I don't him going berserk on his own tower, let alone the entire castle. He charged us with looking after Freya and Valas – we'll do it as best we can, leave him to his books." Arthur finished, and Gwen nodded at him. Then, a thought struck him, and he smirked, "Besides, if Freya knew anything, she'd tell him to. They have been seeing quite a bit of each other lately," He waggled his eyebrows, and Gwen swatted him.

"Oh, stop it. I know you're pleased with it, so don't belittle him. Them, rather."

"I wasn't belittling. I was teasing."

Gwen linked their arms together, sensing they'd reached an end to the serious subjects and moved on to banter. "All the same, its patronizing."

"Oh, come on, Guinevere – he's my best friend. Freya is lovely, but if they end up getting married or something, this is the only chance I've got to tease him about a girl before it's too late!"

"Too late?"

"None of the teasing counts once it's official – when you're married."

Gwen couldn't hold back her smile. "If Merlin heard you talking about him in relation to marriage with anyone, let alone Freya, he'd surely die from embarrassment. Or shatter the roof again."

Arthur snorted. "I think that'd be worth seeing: Merlin Emrys, dragonlord and master of magic, buried up to his red ears in bits of castle, for embarrassment over a girl. Honestly, I didn't know if was possible for his skin to turn so pink until I told him what the kitchen staff was saying about him last week… or rather, him and Freya."

Gwen giggled, but elbowed him. "Hush! Someone will hear you."

"And? They've heard it all anyway. And more," he clarified.

"Oh, it all makes me hope that they do end up getting married, so none of it will count at all."

And when they laughed together, neither king nor queen wanted to remember the fact that in Merlin and Freya's case, 'Till death do us part' was likely to come far before any wedding bells would ring. That reality was one best left hidden from the court, and at that moment of useless waiting, from the royals as well.

Across the castle, up two flights of stairs and underneath an impressive mountain of parchment, marriage was perhaps the absolute furthest thing from Merlin's mind. After days on end spent digging through books, scrolls, sheets and manuscripts, he could practically taste the ink through his fingers. The evening before, when a kind young servant girl had (at Gwen's behest) come to offer Emrys his dinner, Merlin had accidentally accepted the offer in the Old Tongue, frightening the poor girl and flustering him until he could make his mouth work in English again. After that episode, he'd decided to put down the book of spells and opted for a history volume until the narrating voice inside his head stopped speaking in two languages at once.

Now, he was back into spells, and deeply consumed in a thick tome on rites of the Old Religion. It was one of the older books in his library. To the vast majority of the magicians, witches and sorcerers that visited Merlin's tower, the book was utterly useless. It was a record of the deepest magic, magic unable to be performed by normal magicians. But then, Merlin could never have been called normal. To him, the book was of more worth than gold, and even in his exhausted, frustrated state, he handled the ancient pages with care. As his eyes scanned over the pages, Merlin knew – that is, Emrys knew, with a terrifying self-awareness, that he possessed the power to perform all of them. He almost never opened the book, and even as he hunted for answers, refused to read a large portion of the spells. He didn't want to learn what his powers could do. He'd seen what power had done to others; Nimueh, Morgause, Morgana. He had more power than all of them combined, and while his friends would disagree with his paranoia, Merlin didn't always trust himself to mix his power with the temptation of such potent spells. He pushed the book away and vowed to return to it later, when he was more awake.

He rubbed at his eyes and nearly jabbed himself when a knock on the downstairs door startled him. Suddenly thankful that he'd moved his research to the third floor where no visitors could see the mess, merlin disentangled himself from his paper cavern and blew out the candle.

"Leot," he whispered, and a white glowing ball appeared to help him navigate the rest of the way. The main room of the third story had no windows, and he was somewhat surprised to see that it was nearly dusk outside when he'd gone downstairs. He closed the door to the third floor behind him, and was glad for it when he answered the first-floor door to find Valas standing in his antechamber.

It took him a moment for him to regain his composure. "Lord Valas," he said dumbly, "What a surprise." He smiled, and hoped it looked authentic. Valas played the same card.

"I am sorry for coming unannounced, Lord Emrys, I merely wanted to pay you a friendly visit, magician to magician." Somehow, behind the manner, Merlin thought he detected a threatening undertone. He wondered if he'd invented it in his mind.

"Of course," Merlin smiled, "come in." He remembered what he'd promised Freya about playing the fool, if ever the opportunity arose, and tried to convince himself that he hadn't the slightest idea about Freya, or Valas, or the Sidhe, or anything else that he'd learned. He was suddenly painfully conscious of the piles of books that lay open two stories above his head.

The beginnings of their conversation was awkward small talk. Weather, food, petty magic. Valas asked briefly about Merlin's involvement in Camelot's history, but unlike most people, seemed overall uninterested in the tales that Merlin humbly retold. Eventually, the subject matter turned over to Freya.

"You must understand, Emrys, I'm not one for gossip. But I can't help but hear that your court seems rather fond of you, and my daughter, together."

Merlin wished he didn't blush so easily. "So I've been told. I do my best to avoid gossip altogether, my lord, especially when it concerns me." Valas laughed.

"I understand completely, only, I wanted to know your thoughts – and don't be afraid to speak your mind to me because I'm her father – do you love Freya?"

It crossed Merlin's mind that of course Valas wasn't her father, so of course he should be afraid of him – Sidhe or not. And yet, saying the words to another soul out loud seemed to solidify the whole thing. It took simultaneously no effort and every effort in the world to make the words leave his mouth.

"I do. Very much, if I'm honest."

"Then honest you should be," Valas was smiling, "And so shall I: both of you have my blessing for a courtship, and whatever may come after."

Whatever may come after. Even murder, Merlin thought. He smiled anyway and tried to make it seem like he didn't see through Valas' lie. "Thank you, my lord," he said evenly, "It certainly does mean a lot to me, more than I can say." And it wasn't a lie. Oh, it meant something, alright, much, much more than Merlin could ever say without losing his life.

The rest of Valas' visit was spent talking about magic. Looking back on it later, Merlin would come to realize that Valas had been sizing up Merlin's powers, and the young sorcerer would thank the heavens for his own tendency towards humility. He was positive that the Sidhe knew that he was Emrys, but he wasn't sure if they knew exactly how powerful Emrys was. If they didn't know, Merlin had no intentions of letting them know. That, he thought, was information best kept secret until the proper time presented itself. His self-deprecating nature ensured that if anything, Valas left with a muddled picture of what exact powers Merlin possessed.

Before the lord could go, he stopped to examine an old artifact leaning against a bookshelf. "A fascinating staff you have here," he commended dully, and Merlin had to fight down the rush of adrenaline when he realized that Valas was picking up Merlin's Sidhe staff.

"It is. I've only ever seen another staff like it once – I hope I never have to do so again." He wasn't lying.

"Oh?" Valas seemed amused for some reason, "Why is that?"

"It is a Sidhe staff," He explained uselessly, hoping his fool-playing would convince Valas, "I acquired it some years ago."

"From someone you killed?" Valas looked at him with a flicker in his gaze that made Merlin's enemies seem closer than they had before.

"Yes," Merlin couldn't lie, "In defense of myself and of Arthur, and Camelot. A sad spoil of war; one whose like I hope I never have to see again, as I said."

"You didn't enjoy it, then," Valas studied him like a predator its prey, "killing its original owner?"

Merlin frowned. "Of course not." He wondered if Valas had actually expected him to.

The Lord said nothing for a while, and carefully inspected the staff. He picked it up and stroked its length, pondering over the crystal at the top. Merlin was all too aware of the fact that Valas could easily wield it against him then and there, and Merlin's heart raced inside his chest as he prepared for the moment when the Sidhe would strike. Only, he didn't.

"The Sidhe would take the killing of their own very seriously," He commented at length.

"You know of the Sidhe?" Merlin continued to feign ignorance. He caught the upward, haughty tilt to Valas' smile.

"Yes, you could say so. I wonder, why do you find them evil, Emrys?"

"Evil? I never said they were evil," Merlin answered defensively.

"You killed one."

"I did. But there is a difference between evil and corruptible." At his reply, Valas looked at him with a questioning eyebrow. He explained, "The Sidhe are a proud people, who crave power and will stop at nothing to get it. I've witnessed the corruption of power in many, but no one has ever defined it so diligently as the Sidhe." His voice sounded sure but innocent, but his eyes were like a hawk's as he watched Valas' reaction.

A small glimmer in the man's eyes shone red, and Merlin caught a glimpse into the hidden Valas that he'd never seen. He wondered if Freya felt this cold when she spoke to Valas. He thought, not for the first time, of how strong she was, in spirit and in body.

"You are right on many counts, Lord Emrys, but you may want to be careful how you word your claim," Valas' voice was tight, and seemed to Merlin as though he was fighting off anger, "The Sidhe do not seek power, they are power. Underestimation of the fact would bring any of their enemies folly."

"I think you mistake me, Valas," Merlin said solemnly, "I do not oppose the Sidhe. I oppose those who threaten those I have sworn to protect; Camelot, Arthur, Gwen," Freya, he added silently.

"To protect those you love," Valas pried, choosing the word especially for its new connotation to Freya herself. Merlin didn't miss the clue, but was feeling bold.

"Yes."

"And if the Sidhethreaten them?"

"Then I shall oppose the Sidhe, so long as their threat remains."

They had entered a glaring competition without either party knowing exactly when or why. "And how would you deal with their threat?"

"In any way that I could," He said cryptically. Valas, who was still trying to learn the limits of Merlin's powers, nodded and looked the sorcerer up and down.

"And if death was the only answer?" He didn't specify whose death, Merlin noticed. He swallowed.

"Then so be it."

The silence that followed was tense, and Merlin wondered if Valas had realized that he knew. He prayed and hoped for Freya's sake that he hadn't.

"You are a loyal man, Emrys, though I do not know how your loyalty will repay you. I would advise you to tread your paths with care. You may find yourself toeing a line that you cannot overcome." Even if he hadn't known anything about Valas, Merlin would have heard it as a threat.

For a short, wild moment, Warlock and Sidhe saw the other each to himself as what they really were, and Merlin understood how powerful his opposition was. Freya's smile rose unbidden in his mind, and his anger against the Sidhe almost compelled him to raise a spell against Valas. He stopped himself before it could happen. Valas broke the tension with a smile that seemed bigger and faker than before.

"I apologize for my frankness, if it has offended you." Merlin could practically watch the mask slide back into place.

"Not at all, milord," He followed suit.

"A good night, Lord Emrys," Valas let himself out.

"You as well."

When Valas was gone, Merlin felt cold inside. He squeezed his fist and whished Freya's hand was inside it, if only to know that she was safe.

With a new energy fueled by an unnaturally insistent protective call, he took the stairs two at a time up to his study where he could hopefully, eventually find answers. He had to try. He'd seen the look in Valas' eyes, he knew what the Sidhe were capable of. But he also knew that there was someone he loved, someone he'd sworn to protect. The two terms were synonymous in his mind. With Freya, they'd appeared hand in hand since the day he'd laid eyes on her. He flipped through dangerous pages with determination. He would find the answers. Through Sidhe, Valas, and whatever came next, he would protect and love Freya to the end, or he would die trying.

It was only the truth. He lit a candle and blew dust off of the old volumes, his ink-stained fingers finding the pages that might, by some slim hope, have answers to tell.