A/N: SAP SAP SAPPITY SAP. Ye hath been warned.

If Merlin was completely honest with himself, he'd been slightly worried that his mother and Freya might not get on. He was sure that, had Freya not been courting him, Hunith would have liked her without question, but because they were already courting, Merlin wasn't sure what to expect. He'd never shown romantic interest in anyone when he was in Ealdor, and up until Freya, he really hadn't been in any relationship whatsoever – he had no idea how his mother would respond to him being in a romantic relationship now, especially with someone she'd only heard about.

Even after they'd hugged and he'd introduced Freya, he had a hard time gauging his mother's reaction. Then, he realized that they'd begun speaking in that strange, unintelligible female language composed of smiles and looks and subliminal messages. He still wasn't quite sure of the nature of their impressions of each other until, after the three of them had spent hours talking and were rising for lunch, Hunith put a hand to Freya's arm and said,

"He's a good boy, Freya, look after him." She looked up to her son and smiled, and that's when Merlin knew that everything would be alright.

He'd left them to themselves after lunch, Hunith having insisted that she wished to speak to Freya alone unhindered by male company.

"I still don't quite understand," Hunith admitted as she sipped at her tea, "how it is that you have the powers you do now. I thought Merlin said you didn't have magic…?" She looked up to Freya curiously. The couple had spent the better part of an hour explaining the story of the past months in Camelot, in greater detail than they had allowed Gaius or the knights, and Hunith had listened patiently as ever with a second-hand understanding of magic grown over decades of parenthood. Freya set her own tea aside and attempted to explain.

"No, I didn't. I wasn't born with magic like Merlin, but when he… That is, when Valas died, the powers he possessed transferred to me. It's rather funny, really," She looked down at her lap. "Valas knew that Merlin invested his magic in me and that, had he died, I would have gained his powers. Valas never counted on the fact that, since he'd used his own magic to keep me alive all this time, the same rule applied to him." Hunith smiled with her. "So no," Freya said, "I've never had magic, but now I suppose I do, over the lake, and the Sidhe, and the Old Magic they use. And it's strange," she frowned, "Now I can't imagine it another way."

Hunith smiled. "I'm glad for it, dear. I love Merlin dearly, but I would never wish anyone without magic to bind themselves with him. At least you, should he misbehave, can return the favor in a language that that magical mind of his will understand." She winked and picked up her tea again. Freya smiled at the thought and took up her tea as well.

They sat together for some time, speaking on all things that came to mind, from serious to awkward to trivial and funny, but most of all, Merlin. He was the common link in their lives, and even as each woman sensed the personality of the other and decided for herself that she rather liked this other woman, whether mother or courtier, Merlin was at the center of why they'd been introduced at all.

At the end of the evening, Hunith rose and grasped Freya's hand. "I am glad to meet you, Freya, and gladder that my son has as well." She smiled her pure, genuine smile, and Freya had to return it. "I would be delighted to have you join our little family. Life with my son isn't easy, and is unpleasant at times, but I'm sure after all you've been through you know as well – it is never, ever boring."

Freya laughed as she thought about it. The bastet, the bounty hunter, the lake, her death, the fire, the Sidhe, the curse, the plot, the rites, the knife, the water, the laughter and a place to finally call home. Her eyes told Hunith that she understood completely. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she told the other woman, "It's well worth it."

Hunith smiled back. "Yes, he is."

A few months later, when the autumn winds were playing with colored leaves and bringing in the first scents of the year's harvest and the coming winter, a crowd gathered in the castle courtyard for a rather special occasion.

Up in his tower, Merlin was having a rather hard time dressing himself. His mother had forbidden him from wearing his neckerchief as he normally did, but had repurposed the scarf into a dressier cravat that only just showed a flash of red from underneath his dress tunic. It suited him well, making him look every inch like the Court Sorcerer and wise advisor he'd become. Still, for however nice the tunic was, he couldn't figure out the ties on its front to save his life. No matter how he tried, he couldn't seem get them lined up straight. He sighed in frustration as he tried to untangle them again.

"You know, after years with your nose stuck in my wardrobe, I'd have thought you'd figured this out by now."

Merlin turned to find Arthur standing there in his best shirt and jerkin, Excalibur polished to a shine at his hip. He sighed at the king.

"That's completely different."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is it? Well then, I'll hold you to it. Here, let me." He frowned at the mess of string on Merlin's front and went to work at it. "Hold still, would you?"

"I am still."

"You're not." He glanced up at his friend and smiled. "Calm down, alright? It's not like she's going to run away last minute."

"I just might." Merlin muttered. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Merlin, don't be ridiculous. After all of this? If you do, Gwen'll have your head. She's spent far too much time planning this whole thing." Merlin muttered something that Arthur couldn't make out. The king glanced up and said in a sincere tone, "There really isn't any need to be nervous, Merlin."

"I'm not."

"Good!" Arthur finished with the ties and slapped Merlin on the shoulders. "There, then, every bit the strapping groom you ought to be." He frowned and added in a familiar chide, "Well, aside from you know, being you."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "At least I don't have to wear a ridiculous crown at my wedding."

"Well, I had thought about that…"

"Arthur,"

"Alright, fine, no crown. But really, take this," Arthur offered him a cloak. It was a familiar one, the same dress robes that he'd worn the day that Arthur had legalized magic, the day he'd been set free, the day he'd been made Court Sorcerer and ended up where he was. He looked up at Arthur and smiled.

"Thank you."

Arthur only nodded. He allowed a quick pause for the sake of momentum, then gestured to the door. "Well, come on, then, no use waiting about with that weird look on your face. Guinevere and your mother have been in with Freya for a century by now; I'll get someone to see if they're finished."

Within the hour, they had everyone assembled in the courtyard and all of the participants in their proper places. Although traditionally speaking, they should have been in the great hall indoors, Merlin had insisted that they take the celebrations outside to accommodate Aithusa, as well as Kilgarrah, who had promised to appear at least so long as the ceremony itself.

When Freya appeared, she found Merlin's eyes and smiled. For a second he forgot to breathe, for she looked just as beautiful as she ought to on that day, white from head to toe in a flowing style that completely befitted her new association to a lake, Merlin thought. Gaius had graciously offered to walk her down the aisle, and Merlin's old mentor nodded and smiled at him as they approached, but the warlock had eyes for Freya only. He looked rather stunned as she drew nearer, his smile present, but minimal.

Then, he saw her hair, or rather, what was in her hair, and he had to duck his head to hide his sudden, ridiculous grin. Dotted down the length of her loose-falling locks were small white flowers - strawberry blossoms. She'd requested them especially, even though strawberries were out of season months ago, and one of the new magicians in the court had indulged her. When she reached the alter and smiled at him, Merlin knew that she hadn't told anyone why she'd requested them. Both of them had to fight back a laugh at that.

As the monarch and Merlin's only legal superior, it was Arthur himself who performed the ceremony. He seemed happy to do the job, and although he avoided sap and overly-romantic sentiment in his short speech over the couple, no one could miss the bright smile of approval on the king's face after the rings were exchanged and Merlin and Freya leaned in to kiss for the first time as husband in wife.

"You big softie," Gwen would tease him later at the celebratory feast, "I saw your smiling up there behind them. You do care about them, both of them, no matter how much you've teased them."

"Oh, of course I do," Arhtur told her, his arm around her waist. "He may be an utter idiot, but he is my friend. And he's finally found a woman who's just as crazy as he is. They'll be perfect together." He'd frown and glance sideways down at his wife. "Only, don't tell them that I said that. Especially not Merlin." She would then laugh and wrap her own arm around him.

"Of course not, dear. The last thing we need is him knowing that his king is a man of sentiment."

They would speak of it as though Emrys didn't already know.

But he did know, which is why he didn't even bother glancing at Arthur before he took Freya's hand in is and led his new wife into the crowd of well-wishers that waited for them at the bottom of the steps.

As they danced together that night, Merlin looked down at her dress, which was white enough to put even Aithusa to shame, and a memory hit him.

"Better than a stolen silk gown, I'd say," he told Freya.

She laughed. "That was so long ago,"

"It seems that way." He squeezed her hand. "I never thought we'd see each other, after that."

"Nor I." She smiled and shook her head. "It's an astonishing thing, isn't it?"

"Astonishing? Maybe. After all that, we got a second chance, somehow,"

"And here we are," She finished, smiling up at him. He smiled back.

"And here we'll be. And, for what it's worth, I'd sorely like to keep it that way."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." She leaned into him. "I promise."

"So do I," he said, but she shook her head.

"You already did, love. Just keep keeping it." He let out a chuckle and nodded as he realized that, in a rather strange way that could only apply to people so strange as them, she was right. Smiling, he leaned down to kiss her.

"I'll do that."

An so, their next great adventure began.

finis

A/N: Well, that's a wrap, folks! Thanks a ton for reading, for all of your wonderful reviews, and all the lovely Freylin support I've seen over this story! It's an encouragement to know you're not the only one who misses Freya in the show and wishes she got her own happy ending. Here's to hoping I did a halfway decent job at inventing one for her.

Stay tuned for the epilogue! It's got some more mush and gush in it, as well as a lovely set up for the sequel of A Second Chance, which I should begin posting soon.