500 Days of Freya (Merlin)

Tristan and Isolde

Chapter 46

Warning/s: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

A/N: Sorry for the massive hiatus – I had exams coming up so I wanted to do all those before I got back into fanfiction, and then I watched The Walking Dead and got massively into that but now we're back to Merlin! I have so many prompts for this story (like half a notebook) but please give me more if you want because there are many chapters to write and let's be honest, Freylin is worth it 3 and if you read any of my other stories let me assure you that I will be updating them soon as well. Love you all!

Prompt: ruapilot2 – "Merlin seemed to know exactly what to do when interacting with Tristan after Isolde's death. Everyone else seemed to leave any exchange with the devastated man much worse for wear. Someone decides to find out why."

"He's distraught," Arthur said, quietly to Merlin. "I don't think anyone can reach him."

Merlin glanced over at Tristan. He was slumped against a tree, holding a scrap of Isolde's shirt like his life depended on it. "Losing your loved one is a terrible thing," Merlin agreed, a little sadly.

"It's late. We should all go to sleep," Arthur replied, though he eyed Merlin a little curiously at his remark.

Merlin nodded and heaped some wood onto the fire, so that it would die down a little and not give off any smoke that could give away their position. He settled down with the others, but unlike the knights, he wasn't snorting within five minutes due to the exhausting day. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, and it was keeping him awake.

He opened his eyes with a sigh and scanned the clearing. Then he realised what was wrong – there was an empty bedroll where Tristan was meant to be.

Frowning, Merlin sat up slowly, stretching. Tristan was still hunched over by the tree, clutching the scrap of fabric.

He stood up as quietly as he could and made his way over to the grieving man. Tristan didn't look up or even seem to notice him as he approached. Merlin crouched down next to Tristan and reached underneath his neckerchief. He always wore it so that the small, tan, leather pouch he continuously wore around his neck would go unnoticed. Now, he reached into it and pulled out a lock of deep brown hair.

He held it in front of Tristan and said softly, "Freya," knowing that he would understand what he was saying. Tristan didn't react as far as Merlin could tell, but he carried on regardless.

"She was abused so many times," Merlin continued. "And at first, she was afraid of me, afraid to love, afraid to get close to anyone.

"She was brought to Camelot in a cage. I saw her and immediately I felt sorry for her. Gaius was with me and he told me that she must have magic, and she had been captured. He said to leave her.

"But I couldn't. I came back later that night and managed to get her out. I brought her back to the castle and hid her in some of the lesser-used underground rooms.

"She was very shy but eventually she became less timid as I brought her food and candles, and kept her company. We fell in love very quickly and we decided to escape together. She wanted to live by a lake, with some mountains, and fields.

"But the night that we planned to run away on, I learnt something terrible. At this time, there was a mysterious beast terrorising Camelot. It turned out that it was an oversized black panther with wings...and it was Freya."

He saw Tristan's head move towards him ever so slightly.

"She had been attacked a while ago by a man and in panic had accidentally killed him. His mother tracked her down and cursed her to turn into this thing so she would have to kill for all eternity.

"That night, Arthur stabbed her and she turned back into the Freya I knew. But she died later, in my arms. By a lake with mountains and fields.

"It hurt more than I could ever express for so long, and I couldn't even show my true emotions to anyone but Gaius. It still hurts, there's a constant ache in my chest – but it lessens over time and your heart heals. You may never love anyone else but their memory is enough."

Merlin stood up. "It's not easy. But it gets easier. And I know how you feel, and I know that Isolde wouldn't want you to sit here, mourning her." He headed back to the fire and settled down again, placing the hair back in the pouch and tucking it securely under his neckerchief. He didn't dare look back at Tristan for fear his heart would shatter all over from the memory.

Gwaine was the first one awake the next morning, and immediately he noticed that Tristan was missing. He hurriedly woke the others and just as they were about to form a search party, Tristan appeared from the woods, holding a stack of dry twigs to his chest.

"Thought I'd do my bit," he said, so cheerfully that everyone was taken aback. Merlin took a few of the twigs and started to assemble a fire. Tristan knelt down next to him to help, and Gwaine was the only one who saw Tristan clap Merlin on the back and thank him.

"I didn't do anything," Merlin insisted. "I just told him that Isolde would want him to get on with his life, and avenge her."

"You must have done more," Gwaine pressed him.

"I didn't." Merlin switched his attention to the stew he was making hurriedly, hoping Gwaine would just swallow the lie.

He didn't, of course.

Gwaine laid awake that night, suspecting that if Merlin was going to do anything, it would be at night. He only had to wait for an hour before his patience was rewarded.

Merlin had been restless and distracted all day. Ever since talking to Tristan, his mind had been solely focused on Freya. They were, fortunately, close to the Lake of Avalon, so Merlin had decided that he would visit her with a few gifts.

When he was sure that everyone else was asleep Merlin sprang to his feet and crept out of the clearing. Once he judged that he was a good distance away and wouldn't be heard, he broke into a jog.

He cupped his hands together and conjured up a bunch of strawberries, and placed them in his pocket along with the two candles and a small scroll of parchment, and quill.

Once he had reached the lake, he set the candles down on the sandy shore and ignited them both with a quick wave of his hand. He had learnt by now that whilst Freya could hear him when he talked, the same wasn't replicated and she had to write her answers.

So he opened the scroll, placed the quill and strawberries inside and rolled it back up. With a graceful over-arm throw, he tossed the bundle into the middle of the lake. He wasn't sure how, but somehow there seemed to be a kind of portal that took the things to Freya.

"I still love you, Freya," Merlin started, sitting down next to the candles. "Even now. I don't think I'll ever be able to move on, but that's fine with me. I can't wait until I get to join you, and hear your voice again. Gods, I need to see you again. You're so beautiful, Freya – I wish you had never gone. I know it wasn't your fault, but it kills me that you had to leave."

Merlin fell silent for a few seconds. He had no idea that Gwaine was hiding, just behind him, and was mulling over what Merlin had just said with a steadily sinking heart.

Merlin smiled when the roll of parchment and quill bobbed back up to the surface, miraculously dry. With a wry smile, he noticed that the strawberries had gone, and were probably being enjoyed by Freya right that moment. He leaned forwards to collect the scroll. On it was scrawled, 'I love you too and I cannot wait until you are with me' in Freya's small, neat hand.

Gwaine decided to leave when Merlin began sobbing. He didn't know everything, but he knew enough.

A/N: Nothing like some sadness to kick off your Saturday