rewriting bbc merlin where nothing changes except merlin actually marries freya and she becomes a recurring character. appearing whenever merlin needs to talk to someome about magic but doesn't feel like dealing with kilgharrah so he takes a boat out to the lake and spends time with his lake wife. sometimes he doesn't even need advice and just wants to hang out. she is tied to bodies of water so even when he's out in the countryside for some reason or another he can talk to her if there's a river or creek or pond or really anything nearby
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I like you. With you I can just be who I am. We don't have to hide anything. We don't have to worry. You're not on your own anymore. I'm going to look after you. I promise.
FREYA & MERLIN — for @merlinrarepairfest day three
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Merlin and grief
"Grief, I have learnt, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners if your eyes, in the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go."
- Jamie Anderson
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We as a fandom must (and basically have) accept that Freya is a little freaky monster . She bites. She will bite and we must let her bite . She’s a freaky little pale monster it’s okay don’t be scared
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no I do have a girlfriend. you don't know her, she went to a different school. yeah. lives in a lake now
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Best Wife
“Gwen is the best at everything, isn’t she?” Merlin remarked as they walked together. “Best seamstress, best friend, best queen…”
“Best wife,” Arthur added fervently.
Merlin hummed at that and made an ambivalent gesture, just to be difficult. He then had to bite his lip to hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his throat at the king’s indignant expression.
Guinevere, of course, caught the glittering amusement in his eye right away. She put on a tone of exaggerated injury as she demanded, “Merlin, you don’t think I’m the best wife?”
Merlin shot her a well-constructed grimace of guilt and sympathy. “Well, I mean, every man has got to be biased in favor of his own wife, hasn’t he?”
“You don’t have a wife, Merlin,” Arthur informed him with a scowl.
Merlin shrugged, unaffected by the pronouncement. “I might do.”
“No, you don’t—”
Just then, Merlin caught sight of Lancelot coming down the hallway. His eyes lit up. “Lance!”
The knight looked towards the sound and, noticing the trio, waved in greeting.
“I need you to settle a matter for me,” Merlin told him, the picture of earnestness. When Lancelot nodded, he asked, “Who has the best wife: me or Arthur?”
To the king’s immense shock, a stricken look crossed Lancelot’s face.
“You want me to choose?!” he demanded almost shrilly, and if it was an act, it was the most flawless performance in the five kingdoms, because his voice even cracked on the question.
Merlin’s gaze softened at once. “No, no, if it’s too difficult to say, I won’t make you. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Lancelot looked like a man granted a reprieve from execution— an absolutely ridiculous response to an already baffling conversation. Then, with a short nod of farewell, he hurried off down the hallway as if fearing Merlin might change his mind.
Both Arthur and Gwen stared after his retreating back for a long moment before slowly turning those stares back on Merlin.
“Do you have a wife?” the queen asked, incredulous.
Merlin only shrugged again and repeated with a small, mischievous grin: “I might do.”
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