A/N: Hello everyone! I wanted to start the new year with a new short story based off a drabble I wrote for my collection It's Like Magic. I know I promised a one-shot but a short story was better suited for this story. I'm really excited about writing a Freylin heavy story that does not take the attention away from the Merlin-Arthur bromance, so I hope you guys are as well.
For those who are familiar with my stories or that will read my future Freylin stories, you will notice that there are quite a few concepts that I might end up repeating. I sort of have a habit of recycling ideas. But the concepts concerning Freya are ideas that I especially like so I hope no one is offending by my doing so. As the story goes on, I will point out what those concepts are.
Chapter 1
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. The Lady's eyes painstakingly flickered open. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust, but it was dark as the back of her eyelids. Confused and dazed, she propped herself onto her elbows. Something wet and crunchy dripped down her cheek. She wrinkled her nose as the vile smell tickled her senses. Mandrake roots, the Lady was easily able to deduce. The smell indicated the mandrakes had been made nearly a week ago; they were at their ripest in power.
She mused that it might have been a dream, but the smell of the dark concoctions and spicy herbs were too vivid; perhaps she was inside a vision? The wretched mandrakes hanging from the ceiling began screeching, shrill like nails against black chalk, shattering her theory. It was no vision or dream. Her heart plunged like it was being ripped from her chest. She hastily covered her ears and began maneuvering around the room. Tears filled her eyes, obscuring what little she could see in the dark room.
"Leoht," She whispered. The round globe of light grew to life and lazily floated in palm of her hand. The grotesque mandrakes, drenched and coated in a dark potions, hung all around her. The room was spacious, dark, and nearly empty, and there were pillars of moss covered stone all around her.
She realized then that she was not in vision. The Lady, herself, was in the prison surrounded by the darkest of enchantments created by a powerful sorcerer or sorceress; that much was obvious to the Lady. But if the mandrakes were not meant for her, then who?
In the darkest corner of the prison she found the silhouette of a woman, lying limp with her hands covering both ears; her body trembled and shook. The Lady gasped and rushed to the woman's side. Her sphere of light revealed the regal looking gown, and the woman's curly coffee colored hair. Whoever this prisoner was, she was no ordinary prisoner. She must be a princess or courtier, the lady deduced. She felt a rush of pity for the woman for she wasn't magic and couldn't protect herself from the mandrake's shrill cries. She could only imagine how long the woman must have been trapped in her. Perhaps she was not beyond saving.
"Who are you?"The Lady asked, gently placing an arm on the woman. The woman flinched into awareness, and scampered away from the lady. The Lady could finally make out the woman's features as she curled herself into a ball and breathed raggedly as though she had been chocked. The woman's once fair coco butter complexion was covered in dirt, and her warm brown eyes were red and puffy. Those same eyes flickered between the ball of light and back to the Lady.
The Lady gasped in realization. "You are Guinevere Pendragon. The Once and Future Queen of Camelot," She whispered, and mentally berated herself for not realizing earlier. Guinevere's eyes widened in fear and she pulled away as far as she could from the Lady.
"You're not real. You are another one of those spirits. You're not real," Guinevere chanted like a mantra trying to console her fears. A soft smile settled on the Lady's face—only the Once and Future Queen could resist the mandrake's spell for so long. The Lady's respect for the queen grew tenfold.
"I assure you, my Queen, I am as real as you are." She replied in soft soothing tones. Guinevere's roaming eyes finally settled on the Lady, there was mistrust in those eyes but also a slight wariness as though she wanted to give the Lady a chance.
"W-what do you want from me?" Guinevere quivered, frightened of what demands the Lady might make. The Lady stared long and hard at the Once and Future Queen, her face contemplative. Whoever had put Guinevere in this dungeon was obviously trying to enchant her with powerful black magic; her captor couldn't have been a mere hegdewitch, she would have to be sorcerer or sorceress on par with the High Priest and Priestess. And as the Queen of Camelot –a kingdom which once hunted Magic like livestock– she was bound to have powerful enemies. Her captor could be anyone.
But the Lady knew that she couldn't dawn on such details at the moment. She could tell that Queen Guinevere had about another day or so before the enchantment took hold. Was this the purpose the Lady's transporting here? Was she supposed to save the queen?
The Lady closed her eyes and allowed the flickers of hesitant memories to creep back into her mind.
M.M.M
It had been such a normal day. She'd fulfilled her duties as High Priestess-in-training and had been practicing with her mentor when a sudden chill of forlorn had washed over her. She went to sleep, uneasy; the Vilia had been at her side. Her perturbed nightmare shifted into a vision of great darkness. She tossed and turned, shivering and shaking, the vision completely took over her senses.
She dreamt the death of the Once and Future King at the hands of his wife. The Lady Morgana sat upon the throne of Camelot lashing out at the people, magical and non-magical alike. She heard their screams and cries for help. But it was no use, the King was dead, and his warlock had been reduced to a former shell of himself. Camelot had been savaged and torn apart by civil war.
She saw the Once and Future Queen waste away in a prison, the King's fine knights being tortured into submission and lastly, she saw the face of her beloved warlock, his eyes devoid of all life, wasting away in a hovel.
She woke up screaming in a cold sweat.
I have to do something. I have to help him. She hastily rushed to Elders of Avalon–Dryads from the mystical forest of Essetir – who had been training her in the magical arts since she had become bound to the lake. The tree spirits circled the stone altar, engraved in the Old Tongue, covered in ivy and grape wines, the ancient altar served as a sort of oracle for the dryads. The dryads kept watch over the human realm through the millennia. They oversaw the safety of Emrys's domain; the Crystal Cave, the Isle of the Blessed, the ruins of Ashankar's tomb and now the Treacherous Lands. They were under Emrys's protection and were looked after by the Druids.
"My Lady, we have been expecting you," The soprano-tenor voices rang out in a majestic boom. The sound flooded the altar and tickled the Lady's senses. No matter how many times she had their regal, sage-like voices, she always felt the trembles of euphoria gushing like a river under her skin.
"Then you know what I've come to ask for," The Lady stated, finally finding her voice.
"Indeed, young sorceress…" An azure glow evolved from the altar, slowly growing and stretching, until the giant sphere of light nearly towered over the Lady. The azure glow turned red, then gold, then blue, then black. The mist cleared and revealed…the Once and Future Queen was dead. In her place was a pawn of the High Priestess Morgana.
"No! This cannot be. The Queen cannot die," The Lady had exclaimed.
"Indeed my Lady, she cannot. For if the Queen should perish, so does the Once and Future King, and Emrys with him."
"Please, I beg you. Let me save her…" The Lady sincerely pleaded, clasping her hands together like in a prayer. The Dryads simultaneously laughed, causing tremors and vibrations to shake the stone altar.
"Of course my Lady, it is your destiny."
"But…my destiny is to be the Lady of the Lake…"
"That is but a part of your destiny, young sorceress. Your place is at the Once and Future Queen's side and the side of Emrys…"
"But…"
"The Prophecies are changing young sorceress, nothing is as you knew it before."
The Lady chocked a started gasp. The prophecies of the Old were changing…a feat unheard of in the history of the Old Religion. The very prophecies that had been prophesized by Taliesin the Great, the most powerful seer of all time, were changing. The prophecies that foretold the savior of the Old Religion, the beacon of hope, the stories passed from mother to child for many generations….were changing. How could this happen?
"What must I do?"
"It has fallen upon you, young child, to protect the Queen, to save Emrys and the King from themselves…go now child…fulfill your destiny,"
M.M.M
The Lady opened her eyes with a sharp intake of air. The Queen's curious eyes silently watched her, waiting, judging, deciding if the Lady was trust worthy or not. The Lady watched her back with equally judging and calculating eyes—my destiny, the Lady thought.
"My name is the Freya, your highness. It is my sworn duty to protect the Once and Future Queen of Camelot. I give you my word Guinevere; I will save you from this prison."
Concept 1: I simply love the idea of Merlin being the protector of the Once and Future King, and Freya being the protector of the Once and Future Queen. This is a a concept that I will no doubt re-use in the future.
Review, review, review!
Kiki1770