So this was it. Arthur was dead. Merlin skipped the stone in his hand on the water, standing up and turning around. The funeral had been today. He didn't understand why in the world they had to come here instead of just mourning at home. It wasn't like this place held any special significance. Just more pain.

"Merlin".

There was that voice again. The voice he had heard all day. Her voice. Arthur's death was bad enough, why did he have to be reminded of her too?

"Go away," he muttered, turning around and throwing another stone into the Lake of Avalon. He wondered how in the world they all still found him sane.

"Merlin, don't ignore me," the voice said. A poignant warning in it. This was getting ridiculous.

"For goodness sake, I know you're not real. So just stop and leave, Ah—"

He turned around and stumbled over his words for what he saw was unbelievable.

"Freya?" His voice came out in barely a whisper, for their she was in front of him very much alive.

He knew, he always knew she was alive somewhere. After all, she had visited him just briefly enough to give him the sword. He could still feel the pressure as he squeezed the cold moist hand. But that had been it. Although the water had been clear as crystals, he had not seen her face as he had in the pool from the Fisher King's hourglass. Just a hand. Bodiless yet full of life, as though it came from somewhere else. This, was different.

"Freya," he whispered again. This has to be a dream. It had to be for there she was, drenched to the bone in the same dress. he had buried her in. Although, when he had seen the ghost of his father. There had been a sort of luminescent quality of the other world. She was standing in front of him, with no such light except around her waist, as though she were trying to step through a gate.

"You remember me, then," she said with a smile, and to his amazement, she stepped out onto the bank, legs bound in kelp, almost as an adornment. There were water droplets in her hair, and her dark Brown eyes were sparkling.

"No. No, you're not real!" he shouted withdrawing his sword. "Get back! Get back. I'm warning you!"

She raised her hands, still smiling, "Merlin! Listen to me! Hear my voice! There are no echoes, no enchantments! I'm real! See? The light is gone! I am on the side now. This side of the veil."

Merlin steadied his sword, wanting to believe her, but at the same time, he knew the powers of the Sidhe. Perhaps they were trying to get to him.

"I know you think I'm vulnerable, but I'm not! I can still end you, right where you stand!"

Her smile turned into a frown, as she stepped closer. "My poor angel. I see that it will take more than words to convince you." Then slowly, she tore off a piece of the fabric, she was wearing, revealing her shoulder and some of her chest where the wound would've been. Merlin's anger vision began to clear as he realized there was nothing.

"See," she said softly, "if I were a specter, was not the wound still be the same? Bleeding, perhaps? I know you've seen a few, so you tell me. And my real?"

Merlin's mind raced. She was right. But at the same time he felt his heart pounding. There was no possible way…

"A Druid, who was wrongfully killed can pass between the world's until they are avenged, or perhaps whenever they wish. It takes a lot, but I can conjure up a spell to gain a human form for a short while. This is the first time I've done it. Probably not the best time." She looked down, somewhat ashamed, and that is when Merlin knew. It was her. You don't know how long I've wished for this, is what he wanted to say, but what came out was totally different. He stepped closer.

"You can't be… It's impossible."

She smiled. "Obviously you need more convincing." He stepped onto the bank and came toward him. Then, reaching up to his face, she whispered quietly.

"It will be all right, now. I promise." Then she kissed him, letting all the emotion go that she had been holding back for so long. At first he did not respond for he was too surprised, but when he felt the tears on her cheeks, he was sure, and then he kissed her back, more ardently than he ever had when she was, well, alive. He pulled her closer to him, allowing the moment to overcome his grief, as his arm gently moved around her back, while his lips cascaded with hers. When we finally parted he could only say one thing.

"It is you! "

He pulled her to him again, this time into a long embrace, his hand at the back of her head as he held her tightly, afraid of letting go.

"I can't do this anymore, Freya." He said softly, "not without him."

She pushed herself away from him briefly, keeping her hands on his face. "You won't have to. I'm going to look after you, I promise."

She pulled him into another hug, wondering if he realized that in saving him, she had also found her way home.