Water lapped at Merlin's feet as he sat on the shores of Avalon. This was the thousandth year sine Arthur's death; the thousandth time Merlin had sat on these shores and remembered that day, remembered his friend and his friend's smile. And Arthur wasn't the only one he'd lost, either. He wasn't even the only one in the lake that Merlin wished would come back. He remembered Freya, too. Remembered how he'd lost her. He remembered the finds that he'd lost in that short time, and those he'd watched grow old and die while he lived on.
Immortality is a curse, not a gift.
"Merlin"
Her voice was a whisper. There was no way she was actually speaking to him, surely.
"Merlin"
Freya's voice was louder this time. He looked up to see her stood at the edge of the lake, her feet still in the water. She looked exactly as she had when she died. The only difference was that her hair and dress were dripping with water. She still looked beautiful to him. She always had.
"Freya" He choked.
This can't be real.
"Merlin." She said again, smiling at him. It was real. He stood and kissed her. He couldn't stop himself.