Those Who Waited (BBC Merlin)

Chapter 2: The First Story

Merlin found a rhythm within a month, and it carried on many months after. His mother still had their farmland, so he helped with it the majority of the day. It felt good, going back to his beginnings like this, and he did not think he was above it because of his power in the least.

When he wasn't helping on the farm, he was studying and practicing magic, or reading the books (on both magic and science) Gaius was steadily sending in. In those books, Merlin had found a clever little spell that allowed them all to be contained within a small pouch no larger than his fist, and only when pulled out of which did they return to their normal size. Quite handy, really.

Once a month, he left for a few days to visit Lake Avalon. Only his mother—and Susetthe, when she attempted once to follow him—knew exactly where he went, the rest of the village just thought he went for supplies and to see the markets. Susetthe did not know why, however. Every month, he went, and camped out two days and one night on the shore. Just to check, just to make sure. But he never rose, and Merlin knew he really didn't need to. Albion was ruled in peace, it was strong, there was little danger.

Any other time he had, he played games and spent time with Susetthe and the four others in the village around their age. Well, he supposed at around twenty, they were all really young men and women. As much as he enjoyed Lillian, Ainsley and her twin brother Aiken, and Rowanna, he still went to the pond almost every evening alone. Although, many times, Susetthe did follow him, being the only one gutsy enough to do so. At first, it was a bit annoying because he wanted to be alone, but after a few times he learned that she was far more compassionate and empathetic than she seemed and that he actually enjoyed having some company so that he did not completely lose himself to misery. She never asked him to tell her more, and he did not speak of his relationship or memories with Arthur. He never told anyone.

In fact, he had been in Ealdor for a total of eight months before she even told him the sad details of her past. She'd already spoken of the many places in the five kingdoms—before they became Albion—that she'd visited, but she'd never spoken of family or why she was here now. Even knowing so little, Merlin already knew he had developed—and probably showed, if his mother's amused looks were anything to go by—a certain preference for her company.

It was two weeks after he'd caught Susetthe trying to follow him to Lake Avalon, and the two sat side by side in the dusk by the pond. Her eyes were downcast, fingers toying in her lap as her legs were straight out before her. Merlin's position was the same, but he leaned back on his arms. He'd been rather cold to her since he'd returned, so he understood her silence now. He had found her here.

"I'm sorry for following you," she began. "I was just curious, and you always seem sad when you return. But, I know, I should have let you be." Her voice was quiet, respectful but not regretful. He found himself all right with that.

"I forgive you, sorry for the distance lately," he half-grinned, trying to make her feel better. She answered it with a small smile, meeting his eyes through her lashes. The two sat quietly, listening to the forest around them and just looking at each other.

"I had an older sister," Susetthe blurted out of nowhere. She smirked at him. "But she's a bloody toad, so last I heard she was a rather frisky barmaid, and we never liked her." Merlin chuckled quietly, obliging her unspoken request. Any remaining tension left the air, and it was silent for a few more moments. Then, Merlin looked at her.

"I had a brother," she began, looking back down at the pond's shining surface. Merlin kept quiet, staring intently. "He was eight years older than me. Our parents died about thirteen years ago from sickness that infected our village, so he took me and we left as fast as we could—we didn't want to become ill as well. I was seven, he was fifteen." Merlin nodded.

"After that, we traveled around, always moving and never staying in one place. We both worked a variety of quick, temporary jobs for six years, trying to make enough money to feed ourselves and get a room for a night or two, before we'd move on.

"As we got older, he started drinking and gambling, so he spent a lot of time in the taverns while I worked outside. It wasn't bad, he became very good at fighting and gambling so actually we made more," she chuckled. "Six years we traveled around, it doesn't sound ideal but it was actually very fun. He did always try to keep my presence, or at least relation to him, secret as he got into the taverns. That way, when stupid men grew angry at him, they would fight him and leave me alone," she smiled softly.

"Then what?" Merlin whispered.

Her smile widened. "Occasionally he'd disappear for a few days at a time, saying he had to help a friend. That was only a couple of times. And then he became a knight, personally favored by King Arthur himself." Her eyes shone with reverence, tone soft and admiring. Merlin couldn't help but smile at the obvious love and pride for her brother. Then, it disappeared. Her smile fell and her shoulders slouched.

"He died fighting for King Arthur at Camlann. Apparently, by Morgana herself," she said flatly. She nodded weakly. "At least, none could ask for a more honorable, courageous death. I will be proud of him until the day I die."

"Many died that day," Merlin choked out, throat thick as her story struck so many nerves he felt as though he were being stabbed in the heart, the blade white-hot and twisting. She nodded. Through the pain and the sorrow and the guilt, something stirred. "What was his name?"

Her smile was wobbly, but genuine. Her voice shook as she answered, but she spoke it with volume. "Gwaine," her smile strengthened. "Sir Gwaine of Camelot."

Merlin bit back the sob with so much force he truly thought he would throw up. He'd come to Ealdor to escape his past in Camelot, yet all this time, staring him right in the face, was yet another who had been wounded and forever scarred by his failure. If he had just killed Morgana sooner, even listened to Kilgarrah when he urged it all those years ago.

"I am sorry," he whispered, seeing her smile strengthen another small fraction out of the corner of his eye.

"It's not your fault, and I know that he'd much rather he went that way instead of sleeping—or in a tavern brawl—but thanks," she said, so easily. She didn't understand that Merlin was apologizing for so much more. Her eyes narrowed and she twisted so her whole torso faced him. "Did you ever pass him? You were both in Camelot for some time."

Merlin looked at her, taking in her wide, honest light eyes and thick, tangled dark hair. Looking so much like Gwaine, yet sweeter and more innocent. "Yes," he whispered. "I knew him, he was incredible." That was all he could bring himself to say, but she accepted it. Wriggling closer and leaning her side and head against his, Susetthe fell quiet and watched the forest just after sunset.

Merlin, however, kept glancing down at her, studying her and thanking the gods that she was so forgiving. Perhaps she was his second chance, or at least a safety net. The three years he'd spent alone, he would often go days without eating or drinking, finding himself on the verge of unconsciousness when some passing traveler would take pity and leave just enough food to give him strength to crawl, or he'd find himself beside a stream or berry bush. The very brink of death, never able to die because of sheer luck—or magic—or destiny. In Ealdor, he hadn't expected much difference, only that his mother wouldn't let him starve. Still, he expected the misery to just consume him, burn through his heart and drown his soul. But Susetthe didn't let that happen. No, for some reason, he couldn't sink that low whenever she was nearby. Even when he left for Lake Avalon, there was always the voice in the back of his mind, go home to Susetthe. And he did. Every time.

That night, as Merlin looked into the eyes of a person who had every reason to hate him, and yet didn't, was the first time Merlin kissed her.