Those Who Waited (BBC Merlin)

Chapter 1: The Girl in Ealdor

Merlin stood leaning into the tree's shadow, watching the villagers peacefully living out their lives without being easily spotted. There was, undeniably, a hush in the air, a certain sadness that was not overbearing but still present. Of course it was. The villagers who wandered nearer to the forest didn't show any signs of addressing it, but Merlin knew it was there. He hoped it would never completely leave. Arthur deserved to be mourned for a long time. Forever, maybe. At least for Merlin.

Swallowing the grief, as he'd learnt to the past three years of lonely wandering, Merlin walked down the shallow slope separating the trees and the low, wooden and stone fence of the village. He couldn't return to Camelot, he didn't have the strength to face Gwen or Leon or Percival, knowing he'd failed and let their loved ones and friends die. Nor did he have the strength to face the many ghosts of memories of...of him, haunting the castle. He knew by not returning, and without even sending word of this, he was breaking Gaius' heart, but he couldn't go home to Gaius with his destiny failed—his favorite soup just wouldn't cut it. Perhaps, as Merlin was going to do now, word would still reach Gaius of his safe return home.

Home. He wasn't quite sure where that was now. It wasn't Camelot, but it wasn't this village, Ealdor, either. But his mother was here, his mother who always had and always would love him and take care of him. He needed someone who didn't know all the details of his destiny—now failed—or his life in Camelot, and who wouldn't ask questions. He wasn't sure if those at Camelot would throw him looks of hate and disappointment and disdain, but he couldn't be sure. At least here he could be.

Mechanically, he rose his loose fist to knock on his mother's door. See, it isn't home, he has to knock. The door swung open before he could, which did actually surprise Merlin as he quickly stiffened his arm so he wouldn't smack whoever had opened it in the face. A girl looking about his age, if not a bit younger, stepped out, shoulders square and step confident—and straight into him. Two undignified 'oof's mingled in the air as he raise his arms above his head instinctively, and hers curled upwards to her chest to protect the bundle she was holding. The top of her head barely brushed his chin, which he tucked down to see her once they'd stilled.

"Sorry," her voice tossed as he blinked and she was already stepping around him and half running down the street and around a corner. All he caught was a flash of messy, dark hair and a simple, dirtied dress. Shaking his head, Merlin turned and stepped as if to go after her. For a wild moment he wondered if he was at the wrong house—or even the wrong village. Then, a woman came to the door, and ran into him as well.

This time, the woman's arms wrapped around him tightly, and her bun and handkerchief smothered his nose with his mother's scent as he held her. He felt his body shake in her arms, but no tears came. He didn't have any more tears. Nevertheless, she felt them and held him, pulling him gently inside as she did.

Two days later, once his mother was finally satisfied with his appearance—apparently it showed that he had not been eating much, or paying any attention at all to himself—he left the house to wander about the village. He planned on staying for a while, he might as well make himself re-acquainted with the people and see what work he could find. Everyone had a purpose here, farming or cleaning or helping the elderly or looking after children, or something. Most people remembered him, and it was nice to not be treated as a complete stranger. Rather, many welcomed him back.

Now, in the late afternoon, he had wandered a few minutes into the forest where a small pond was, one that he and Will used to sneak off to and play by every day. Merlin needed time to himself, time to think and to remember.

"Oh, it's you again," came a voice, a girl's voice. Despite the remark, the tone wasn't unkind, rather just slightly surprised. He turned and looked over his shoulder to see a girl about his age with a messy mane of dark brown hair and wearing a simple, light brown dress. The dress was torn and dirty, both from constant wear and—judging by the majority of the tears being at the hem or arms—reckless behavior. There were a few twigs in her hair, which added to that theory.

He recognized her vaguely. "Yeah," he nodded, forcing a small, awkward smile. "I'm Merlin, I'm back."

"I know," she nodded, looking amused. "I've heard all about you. You're Hunith's son, went off to Camelot. The whole village has been excited you're back, and there's rumor you're a sorcerer too. An accepted one." Merlin felt something stab at his heart. His mother had told him a bit about news from Camelot, as much as he could bear to hear. Queen Guinevere had married Sir Leon, and they were ruling together. Hunith knew personally that Gaius—since she had written to him, explaining Merlin, and the two were keeping in touch—had told Gwen about Merlin's magic, and destiny with Arthur. She had immediately lifted the ban, and apparently announced that "a powerful sorcerer and forever treasured friend of the royal family" was particularly to thank.

He just nodded. She bit her lip and glanced back over her shoulder, where the village lay beyond the trees. Merlin didn't want her to go. "What about you, then?" he asked, trying to keep the fresh pain out of his voice. Nevertheless, she tilted her head and her blue eyes softened.

"Name's Susetthe," a tiny smile appeared, and she stepped closer as she spoke. "I came here about a year ago, and was taken in by one of the families here. They used to have a son, Will. That's how I've heard so much about you," her voice was soft as she finally sat next to him, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms loosely around them.

"Will died," Merlin whispered, more to himself. She nodded. "We used to play here every day. We were best friends, and he was one of the first to realize my magic. The last thing he ever did was protect me."

"I wish I'd met him," she said, equally soft. The two sat in silence for a while, just watching the forest around them, each consumed in their own thoughts. Merlin was, as usual, thinking through all his years—almost a decade—in Camelot. All the people, the friends, the triumphs and failures, the knowledge and secrets and everything else. He hoped Gwen was happy; he wasn't bitter about her marriage to Leon, that it was somehow betraying Arthur, because it wasn't. She needed to keep Camelot strong and peaceful, as Arthur would have wanted. That is what Arthur gave his life for. And Gwen was keeping Arthur's legacy in such a great kingdom, as both the knights and people had sworn loyalty to her without hesitation.

After a while it began to grow dark, the sun having set, so Merlin stood and wordlessly helped his new friend—Susetthe—to her feet. Perhaps she would be a new friend. She seemed to understand that he wasn't quite ready to break his silence yet, so she walked with him all the way to his door, then smiled, shook his hand—Merlin nearly chuckled at that—and turned back to go into Will's house. She stepped in, as Merlin watched, with a soft smile on her face. He was glad she was happy there, and he hoped Will was happy too.