A/N: Well, this is actually one of the very few chapters that I took more than a few hours to write (it's been sitting open on my comp for more than two whole days!) so hopefully it's a little more well-thought out than some of my other chapters. Further plot explanations, ahoy!

If Gaius had known how long it'd been since his old ward had slept, Merlin was sure that the physician would brave the precarious stairs up to the top of Merlin's tower, regardless of the massive stacks of books and papers, and forcibly shove a sleeping draught down his throat. Luckily or unluckily as it may have been, Gaius didn't know, and Merlin was on his fifth cup of tea and only partially convinced that he wasn't dreaming yet.

He'd exhausted every resource he could find, and between new and old dialects of spells, too many handwritings to count, and two languages to sort through, his mind was a linguistics mess that he wasn't even sure time could sort out. His eyes were dark and unfocused when he finally turned the last page of his thickest book. He sighed and lifted his tea to his lips, crying out in annoyance when he found that he'd already drank all of it. For a moment he wondered if he could manage to levitate the entire tea set up from the first floor, but somehow despite his fatigue, better judgment won out eventually and he decided that it was a bad idea. Mumbling to no one in particular, he closed the book in front of him and looked about for another that might be helpful. He let his left arm rest on the thick volume in doing so, and it suddenly occurred to him that a book so large might make a good pillow. Deliberately, he pushed the thought away and opened a new book on healing spells. Still, he couldn't get the idea out of his head, no matter how he shoved at it. That must've been how he'd ended up asleep, drooling all over his library.

Merlin wasn't a seer; he didn't have prophetic dreams like Morgana did, nor did he receive chronic insights into the depths of people's pasts or futures. But for whatever reason, whether by magic, or suggestion, or a unexpected twist of destiny that would baffle Kilgarrah himself, Merlin's unplanned sleep on his desk led him into a dream that would prove more useful than all the books in Camelot.

He was walking through a thick fog. It was a normal type of fog. It felt wet and breathed thick and looked like a thinned-out cloud on the ground. It smelled familiar, though, and a muffled sound wafted to Merlin's ears and picked at his brain to decipher his surroundings. Just as he realized it was the sound of water, a voice cut through the fog in a sharp echo, a voice he thought he'd never hear again.

"The Old Religion does not care who lives and who dies, only that the balance of the world is restored." Then, he was mildly surprised to hear his own:

"It is not the Old Religion who has done this, it is you!"

He remembered this. This was years ago – his first year in Camelot. He was on the Isle of the Blessed. He was about to kill Nimueh. Because she'd killed Gaius.

As if by the trigger of his remembrance, the fog blew away with a gust of wind, and he was suddenly standing in the middle of the scene, looking at three figures; Gaius, slumped unconscious against an altar, Nimueh, and a younger version of himself standing opposite her. They were arguing with each other and did not notice him. He wondered if they would see him, but even as he walked right between them, they didn't notice him. Trying to ignore the rather disconcerting sensation of walking past himself, he went over to Gaius. He could hear magic and fire behind him, and Nimueh saying,

"You too are a creature of the Old Religion." The words rang in his ears, but he didn't look behind him. He pressed his fingers against Gaius' neck to feel for a pulse. He'd always wondered if Gaius had been truly dead in those moments before he'd killed Nimueh. Now, in this dream world, it seemed that the old man was well and truly dead. Despite the fact that it was an illusion, Merlin couldn't help it when his eyes teared up.

There was a crack and the heavens opened, and Merlin had to move so that his younger self could grab Gaius and shake him. It was strange, watching the agony he remembered so well play out on his own face. When Gaius awoke, even though Merlin was standing only a few feet away, only a few words reached his ears:

"You've mastered the power of life and death itself… make a great warlock out of you yet."

Merlin mirrored his younger smile, but all at once the fog reappeared and closed in around him, leaving the Isle, Gaius, and young Merlin behind. Then, more voices.

"Avalon! What you saw at the lake, it's Avalon – it must be!" It was Gaius.

"What's Avalon?" A younger Merlin asked.

"The Land of Eternal Youth. Mortals are only supposed to glimpse it the moment before death."

Fog swirled, and suddenly he was standing behind himself and Gaius, looking at a book. Gaius traced a line on the page with his finger and read,

"Abas ocus bithe duthected bithlane –To hold life and death in your hands."

The scene began to change once more, twisting and whirling, but even before it settled, he could hear Freya's voice:

"They found me, close to death… they took pity on me. …They couldn't bring me all the way back – you saved me… but I was still dying… They let me live among them." And then, "Valas is after your power, Merlin. …They've sent me here to kill you."

And then he was suddenly in the palace gardens, this time in his own place in the scene, not watching himself. He was sitting on the bench, looking down at her. Freya had her hand on his cheek.

"Merlin, Don't you think that if I could come to Camelot under my own power, I would have done so years ago?"

He reached up to grasp her hand against his face and began to speak, but no words came out. The sound of rushing water filled his ears as though he were rising to the surface of a lake. The roar grew louder until he broke the surface and gasped for air.

Arthur had always wondered where Merlin had learned to read in the Old Tongue. He'd never studied, by his own word, and while Gaius could read the ancient language (Gaius could do most things, Arthur had learned since his childhood) it seemed unlikely that he could teach Merlin an entire language so quickly. He wondered if warlocks learned languages and alphabets like they learned magic – instinctively.

Regardless, Arthur couldn't read the garbled spellbooks to save his life. He tossed another one in a pile and looked over to where he'd found Merlin: asleep, drooling on his desk, surrounded by books, dust, and empty tea cups. He'd found a cloak in Merlin's wardrobe and draped it over the man's shoulders, and lit a small fire in the fireplace a safe distance away from all of the paper. Arthur had also done a small bit of reorganizing the mess that Merlin had made of his library, but not enough for the sorcerer to notice when he woke up. The last thing Arthur wanted was his old friend thinking that he was being nice.

He'd come to demand that Merlin end his hermitage for lunch with the royals, and had even been prepared to bribe him by saying that Freya would be there as well. But when he'd found the warlock snoozing soundly atop a book-shaped pillow, Arthur's softer side had won out and he'd decided to let the man sleep. He'd plopped down in an old chair to read while he waited for Merlin to wake up, fully intending to forcibly haul him outside of his tower for food and drink when he regained consciousness.

He'd just turned the first page of an English printed book about magic when Merlin jolted upright so quickly and sucked in air so desperately that it made Arthur jump and knock the book off his lap.

He recovered to say, "I was wondering when you'd wake up." He looked closer at Merlin and frowned at his wild expression. "You alright, Merlin?"

Merlin looked over to Arthur and seemed to notice his presence for the first time. Suddenly, louder than any groggy person should speak, he exclaimed,

"Abas ocus bithe duthected bithlane!"

Arthur looked at him as if he'd gone mad, and Merlin frowned when he realized that he'd spoken the words aloud. He looked about himself as if he'd just realized he was in his study, and stood up, his chair groaning against the floorboards. "Where's Freya?" He asked.

"I don't know… She, Gwen, and I were going to have lunch, but…" Arthur watched with growing concern as Merlin knocked his way around the desk, sending a teacup shattering its way to the floor. "Merlin, are you sure you're alright?"

"I know," Merlin sounded breathless as he tripped over the cluttered floor, "I know what they're doing." He either didn't care or didn't realize how little the sleep had worn off and how uncoordinated his legs were being. "I know what he's going to do. Need to-" and then he fell completely over, and a huge stack of books came tumbling down with him. He rebounded immediately and stumbled towards the door. "-tell Freya."

Arthur watched with wide eyes and mouth agape as his friend, drool-faced, mash-haired, messy robed and sleep-drunk as he was, tumbled down the stairway with determination. Half because he wanted to hear what Merlin had to say and half because he was afraid the man might actually hurt himself, Arthur rose and followed quickly.

This, he wanted to hear.

Merlin had found Freya quickly (Arthur swore Merlin must've put some magical spell on her so he always knew where she was – the cheater) and had tried to explain whatever it was that he wanted to say in an incoherent slur of drowsiness. She'd hushed him up and, after asking Arthur to send for Gwen because Merlin obviously had something important to say, attempted to clean up Merlin as best she could.

While they waited for Gwen to arrive in the Royal Suite that they'd opted to meet in, Freya sat by Merlin and was attempting to tame his bed hair using her hands as a comb. Merlin seemed to be enjoying the treatment to the point of almost falling asleep again, and Freya wasn't doing a good job of hiding her smile. She might've found it all very endearing, but Arthur turned away with an obligatory face of disgust. Still, he felt comforted to know that Freya was not only able to put up with a half-asleep, drool-mouthed, stale-breathed, incoherent Merlin, who had obviously not bathed for a few days, but was willing to clean him up, too. She must love him, Arthur thought.

Merlin's hair was reasonably normal looking when Gwen opened the door.

"Gwaine said it was urgent?" She was breathing heavily like she'd run up the stairs. She took in the sight of a half-asleep Merlin with freshly combed hair and Freya who was still fighting back a smile. "What's with him?" She asked Arthur.

"That's why I called you. He's been trying to tell us something since he woke up about ten minutes ago, but hasn't been able to get out a sensible word yet. Well, unless you count his magical gabble as sensible."

"Completely sensible," Merlin interrupted.

Arthur eyed him. "Of course. Well, now Gwen's here, and hopefully you've had time to wake up. What is it that you were going on about?"

Merlin had to take a second to sort out his words, but his eyes lit up with his newfound understanding and cleared away the lasts fogs of sleep. "It's about Valas," He said, and immediately had all of their attention. "I know what he's planning. I know what he's going to do."

Next to him, he could sense Freya sit up straighter, her eyes fixed on him as he spoke. He cleared his throat, and began talking.

"We already knew that Valas is after my power, but we didn't know how Freya worked into it. I think I've figured it out. He knows that if he kills me, my power will differ to Freya, but he also knows that Freya can't wield my power effectively, not like she is now."

Arthur was frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Freya's not… That is…" Merlin looked apologetically at Freya, and she seemed to understand what he was trying to say. She gave him a kind look, and he finished: "Freya's not exactly… properly alive." It sounded strange, and it earned a short pause from his audience. He elaborated, "The Sidhe gave her sanctuary in Avalon, the land of eternal youth. There, she could live as they do, by magic in the lake. It's how they saved her from death. But outside of the lake, she needs an enchantment to keep her alive," he looked at Freya, and she nodded her confirmation. "Thing is, lake or no lake, she's not alive in the truest sense, and thus, can't wield all of my power as she might if she were alive. If I'm right, the Sidhe intend to fix that."

"What, they have the power of resurrection, the Sidhe?" Gwen asked, baffled. Merlin shook his head seriously.

"No. They have the power of life and death."

Freya was the only one who understood immediately, and she gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She drew her own conclusions quickly enough, and was shaking her head softly when Merlin looked at her. He gave her a soft look and snuck his hand over hers.

"That sounds dangerous," Arthur said. "…What does it mean?"

Merlin's face was in a serious frown. "It means that they intend to kill two birds with one stone, simultaneously granting Freya her life and transferring my powers to her by…"

"Killing you." Gwen finished for him. Merlin nodded. Another pause. Arthur was the one who spoke first,

"But how does it work?"

Merlin winced. There were only two instances he knew of to use as examples, and both hit extremely close to home with Arthur. It hurt him to explain, "It's like what happened with your mother, Arthur," He felt horrible when the king stiffened. "Nimueh used the powers of life and death to ensure that you lived, but your mother ended up dying for it. A life for a life. The balance of the world must remain, regardless."

Arthur was blinking, trying to keep his face straight. "But that… her death… was an accident. It wasn't planned."

"I don't know. I wasn't there when it happened, but… when Nimueh tried to take my mother's life instead of mine, and then Gaius'… That was no mistake. There was a plan behind it all, I'm sure of it. She did choose who died, even if she claimed not to have." 'It is not the Old Religion that has done this, it is you!' His own words rang in his head. "I don't know what incantations or spells she used, but… there was a plan behind it all, I'm sure."

"But… when you killed Nimueh, you said you didn't say anything, and it seemed to work," Arthur pointed out. Merlin nodded, equally as baffled.

"To be honest, I don't know how I did that. It's one of those things, that just sort of… happens. I wish I knew what I did, then. I barely knew then – I know less now. I've never had a reason to use those powers again." He frowned, then straightened up. "But I'm positive, there must be some sort of rites to control the process. And I think that the Sidhe intend to use them to sacrifice my life for Freya's. To ensure that she can absorb all of my power."

"But why me?" Freya finally spoke, "Why does he want me to do it?" She sounded hurt. Merlin looked both sad and angry.

"I'd thought of that. I can only think of one reason. Valas knows that I can kill him." His mouth was set in a hard line. "I don't know if he knows that I, too, have the power over life and death, but he knows I'm powerful enough to kill him or any other Sidhe who makes an attempt on my life. He's… He's using you as a pawn, Freya, to distance himself from my murder. He knows that I saved you once, that I could never bring myself to hurt you. If he were to personally attempt to kill me, it'd be a suicide mission. I wouldn't hesitate to retaliate in self-defense. But if you're the one who does it?" Merlin paused and a gentler look crossed his face. "How could I ever hurt you? He's tied my hands. Either I let you kill me, or I'd have to kill you. And he knows I could never bring myself to do that."

Freya's mouth was quivering, her eyes burning with rage. "That bastard," She hissed, and wiped angrily at her tears, "That stupid, bloodthirsty, traitorous bastard." She could only partially bite back her sob, and Gwen came around to comfort her. Merlin sent the queen a thankful glance.

"Couldn't she just refuse?" Arthur asked, frowning deeply. "If Freya actually has to do the deed, then couldn't she just… not?"

Merlin sighed. "I wish it were that simple. The thing about the rites over life and death is… it really only works if the person meant to live is quite on death's doorstep - how it was with you and the questing beast. That's why Valas has been waiting all this time. The Sidhe have cast an enchantment on Freya to keep her alive outside of the lake. It's wearing off slowly, and when it does, when she's nearly death, that's when he'll use the rites and kill me. When he sends Freya to murder me, she'll be dying. She'll have to choose between her life or mine. If she kills me, she lives. If she doesn't, she dies. Either way, one of us has to die."

"No." Gwen answered almost immediately, still holding Freya. "No, you'll figure it out." It sounded almost like a plea. "You always do. You'll find a way."

Merlin hoped she was right.

Gwen continued to rub comforting circles on Freya's back. Freya was sniffling and had red eyes, but Merlin couldn't remember ever seeing her look so dangerous. She was practically seething. Arthur was quiet, but had an intense twist in his browline that indicated deep thought. Merlin watched him and waited for him to speak. Eventually,

"What are you going to do, Merlin?" It seemed as though his thought had led to a dead end.

Merlin sighed. "I don't know. I could… That is, I could try and use the same powers against Valas before he can use them against me."

Arthur looked surprised. "You mean, kill him first?"

Merlin looked uncomfortable. "Well… It's the only alternative I can think of. A preemptive strike is the only solution that I can see saving both of our lives," he glanced at Freya. "Still, it'd be tricky. Like Valas, I'd have to wait until Freya was practically dead before I could use the rites and have them work, but I'd have to do it before he tried to do the same. It'd be a waiting gamble. Plus, I don't know what incantations to use to invoke the rites – if there even are any. I've only ever done it once, and I hardly knew what I was doing, then. I'd be shooting in the dark with an extremely powerful spell. It'd be incredibly dangerous. But I don't know what else to do."

"But we'll have to wait all the same?"

"We'll have to wait. No telling how long."

Arthur sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Their conversation fizzled out after that, and after they'd left the royal suites, Merlin couldn't help but bring Freya into a tight hug for a few minutes, refusing to let go until he was sure she'd be alright for him to leave. She was angry and confused, and had half a mind to attack Valas the next time she saw him. She told Merlin this, and although he thought he might actually want to do the same, warned her not to.

"We'll deal with him when the time comes," he told her quietly.

"But what if we're off the mark?" She mumbled against his tunic, "What if we're too late? What if he strikes first?"

The question frightened Merlin more than he would let on. "I'll figure something out. I promise." It was a prayer. "Let's focus on today. Let tomorrow bring its own troubles." He pulled back slightly and kissed her on the forehead. He looked her in the eye, and she nodded at him. Neither of them smiled, but he took her hand and began slowly walking toward the main part of the castle. "Come on, we both need food. No matter what Valas has planned, it can wait for now. Just take it one moment at a time."

And it enjoy it while it lasts, his subconscious added. He didn't know that Freya was thinking the same thing. They walked to the dining hall hand in hand with solemn faces.