Prologue: The Lady of the Lake

The Lay of the Lake went by many names. The Lady of Avalon. Viviane. Nivian. Nyneve. Evienne. Elaine.

But she preferred Freya. It was what her beloved knew her as. It was her name. Before.

Her eyes followed the body of the mighty, fallen warrior as he floated upon the waters, having been sent on his way just moments before by Merlin. Merlin. She sighed slightly, a soft, sad smile lifting the corners of her mouth at the thought of him. She missed him, his gentle, comforting touch, his smile, his warm embrace. She missed his dark, mused hair and she longed to run her fingers through it once again. Just once.

But they were separated now, and her longing just grew.

The cool water rippled slightly as she trailed her fingers of the smooth surface. She was to bear Arthur to Avalon. Her face drew tight in a somber, pinched expression, her previous wistfulness a fleeting moment upon her mind, erased with her current task. The warrior's fate troubled her beloved, and for that reason only, she set her mind to purpose.

This was not how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be with him. Arthur's passing had saddened Merlin greatly, for she knew they held a close bond, and his passing weighed on him. She could see in his eyes, the looming recluse he would become on his current path. The blame he held deep in his chest. The pain. The guilt. She could see he was tired. Burdened by it.

She wished she could comfort him, the way he had done for her. She wished she could reach out to him and smooth the lines on his forehead, the pucker between his eyebrows, and tell him it would all be okay. But she couldn't, and she felt as though she could not save him from his fate. She feared it. Feared she would never be able to reach him through the cloud of his burden.

And she loved him too much to let that happen.

If only there was a way to stop it. To change his fate, his path. So they could be together.

But to change the future, she had to go to the past.

Then she had an idea.

Perhaps, what Arthur needed was…well, she wasn't entirely sure what he needed. Further protection, perchance? Non-magical protection? Something to reset the balance and shift the future. Or, maybe…just maybe…someone. But who could she entrust such an important task with? She knew of none, and certainly none she trusted to get close to Merlin and potentially discover his secret. She had to go back, she had to search further abroad.

She had to find someone worthy, someone good, someone who could generate change. Merlin deserved that. Arthur deserved that. Almost automatically, she decided this new person had to be a 'she'. Women were far more creative.

And by extension, her Merlin would be fine. They could be together.

Spurred by her forming plans, she began moving her arms about her body, spinning in the water. Shifting the waters of time and going back…going back…going back. To before. And further. She slowed her movements, closed her eyes and waited. A small tingling in her stomach told her that this was the right time to be at.

She pushed herself up, floating almost, and broke through the surface in a spray of droplets shining in the sun, glittering like jewels. She blinked the water out of her wide eyes, glancing around. The lake looked exactly the same. Slowly, she swiped at the water surface, as if wiping it clean. The water settled, becoming still and unmoving; no ripples, no current flow, just still water. Then, the water began swirling around her, getting faster and faster until, an image appeared in front of her, fragments and colours swirling in the water's depths before coming together. It appeared as if the water surface had crystallized in front of her, like one round, smooth diamond.

In front of her, she saw a woman, in elegant clothing, the fabrics intricately sewn together. Clothing befitting her obvious status. The girl was smiling at her reflection, twisting her hair around a finger. Freya felt nothing, and with a flick of her wrist, another image appeared. Another woman, more beautiful dresses. This woman was a brunette. Nothing. She flicked her wrist and another woman appeared. Nothing. More flicks, more nothing.

None of these women were right. She felt nothing at their images, no stirrings of…rightness. Slowly, the women she saw were further and further away from Camelot. Hours passed and she sighed, flicking her wrist almost before their images formed properly.

And then she saw something that made her pause, her hand hovering over the image.

A young woman trudged through a dense forest, not following any path but seeming to know where she was going, a content expression on her face. There was something about this girl…something she couldn't quite put her finger on. In an effort to discover what it was, she watched closer, leaning forward.

The girl easily jumped up onto a fallen tree trunk, half her height, before balancing along it, and jumping back down on the other side. The forest became denser still, fern fronds scraping along her clothes. Only then, did Freya actually notice the game in her hand; small, furry animals tethered together with some string in one hand, the other hand gripping what appeared to be a homemade bow. A quiver of arrows was strung across her back. Her clothes were worn. There were no light fabrics, no gold embroidery, no jewels, no silky garments. Grey fur pelts covered her shoulders, brown trousers encased her legs, and an oversized, long sleeved shirt made of rough wool was pinned at her tiny waist by a leather belt that held two small daggers and a sword. The blades of those weapons were chipped and of poor quality. But they were well sharpened. Holed boots silently meet damp, moist black soil.

Callouses covered her fingers. Her arms and legs were well muscled despite her petite frame. Her skin was a silvery, ivory colour; unused to the sun's rays. For a moment, Freya wondered if she lived in that dense forest. But surely not…? Aside from her pale skin, her features were raven dark. Her hair was long, unusually long, and wildly curling. Untamable. It was slightly mused, as if she had woken up and neglected to brush it, however, the sides were pinned back loosely to keep the shorter strands from falling in her face. It tumbled over her shoulders and down her back to the small of her back in glossy, midnight black tresses. Her eyes were a dark, deep green; like true emeralds – the purer the stone, the darker the colour, and her eyes were so dark they bordered on a black-green. Those round eyes were framed by delicate, long, dark lashes. Her lips, slightly chapped, were a crimson not dissimilar to the colour of blood.

As Freya contemplated her, the girl paused, and glanced around. Her lips pulled up into a smile, and she crouched in her spot, shuffling close to a nearby towering fern. Just on the other side of that fern, there was movement as branches were pushed aside. Two men, with youthful faces, perhaps a few years older than the girl, pushed past. Their lips were moving in good natured conversation.

The girl's eyes followed them a moment, scanning them, analyzing them, before she burst forth, her pert mouth opened in a yell of attack that Freya could not hear. She pounced on the taller of the men, attaching to his back and wrapping her small hands around his eyes. The man lost his balance and stumbled, and the girl flew to the other man, tackling him. They rolled about in a heap, their mouths smiling, their bodies quaking in laughter. The taller man said something, and the girl laughed a reply.

Freya realized she was watching the exchange in silence, and with a single click of her fingers, sound suddenly popped around her, filling the wide space with laughter.

The taller man had waves of chestnut hair, his shoulders broad as if used to heavy lifting and manual labour. His nose was crooked slightly to the left, and his eyes were the same hue as his hair. A scar marred his face, running along his right cheekbone in a smooth slash. He reached down and pulled the girl to her feet in one swoop, his large hand encompassing her much smaller one.

The other man lay for a second longer on the grass, looking up at the girl as a stray ray of sunshine filtered through the overhead canopy and landed on the top of her hair, throwing a rainbow sheen over it. A small smile tugged at his lips in a lopsided grin. His brown hair was a few shads darker than his companion's, and his eyes were a dazzling blue. His frame, when he pulled himself to his feet, was slightly lanky. He was not as muscled, however, his hands, back and thighs all bore the markers of hard work.

"Next time, you shouldn't sound your attack, Evie," the taller man smiled at her.

The girl – Evie, rolled her eyes, "I still surprised you."

"And all the birds," the lanky man said. His grin was lopsided. The trio continued along. "Though I suppose you didn't need to hunt anymore – you've already caught your share!" He didn't sound surprised, in fact, he sounded resigned, holding up his own catch. He handed over a small coin to the other man, who laughed heartily.

"Why do you bet against her?" He shook his head, "She is the best hunter we have."

"No," she disagreed, "I just have more patience than you two twits."

As they loped along at a steady pace, they continued their teasing banter, falling into the easy familiarity of their friendship.

And then Freya felt it; the certainty in her bones. This was the girl. This was the girl for the task.

But…

She had not considered a woman of lower status. She had just been concerned with women to catch Arthur's attention, to integrate into Camelot, and thus his life far easier. Through a simple twist of fate, this girl had come into view, a peasant, who she knew with all faith, was who she needed.

She needed someone strong. Someone good. Someone with a light heart, open and playful. Someone just and truthful, fierce and powerful in her own right.

And perhaps…perhaps, it would not be terrible for her to be pretty. At first, she was unsure, for what if she caught Merlin's eye? But then a different thought occurred to her. She was pretty, beautiful really, enough to attract a little attention. Lancelot's attention. For Guinevere's heart could never entirely belong to Arthur. A small space would always be reserved for Lancelot. And to diffuse any such attentions between Guinevere and Lancelot would certainly cause change.

Change enough to give her her Merlin.

For the rest of the day, Freya watched the girl, learning about her. She discovered that her tall friend was called Bradyn, while the other was named Garret. They continued through the forest and came to the edge where a small village laid. She lived with Bradyn and his mother, for her own parents had passed many years before. The elder, wise woman of the village who hobbled slightly, called her by her full name, Evelyn, however, she did not like it, preferring instead her shortened name of affection. They hunted in the forests and the members of the village all helped each other out.

That night, when she lay down on her straw mattress beside Bradyn, and drifted to sleep, Freya visited her dreams.

Much like water travelling through time, dream visiting was something she'd never tried. But they were among her powers she'd been granted upon her acceptance of her role of Lady of the Lake, rather than passing through the veil. Perhaps, her decision had been made in haste; too anxious was she, to remain with Merlin that she had not considered the consequences. She would never age; instead, she was bound to that lake for all eternity. She ferried souls to Avalon. She watched, never meddling.

But this, she had to be involved in. It was her Merlin, after all. She chose this for him.

A pearly white mist surrounded her in a shroud so that she could not see anything, could not tell if there was anything in front of her, or not, or if she was alone.

Slowly, the mist went away. In front of her stood Evie, glancing around in slight confusion, but accepting it easily. She knew she was dreaming. When she spotted her, she frowned.

"I am Freya," she said, by introduction. "Lady of the Lake."

For a moment, Evie just looked at her. "This is an odd sort of dream."

"This is not a dream. I am real."

"You're real?"

"Very."

"Am I real?" she asked, suddenly less sure than a moment ago.

"Do you feel real?" Freya frowned.

She glanced down at herself, finding everything in its right place. She punched her arm, pursed her lips as she registered the pain, before rubbing over that spot, "Yes."

"Then you are real."

They looked at each other. Silence elapsed. Freya did not know where to start.

"Why are you in my dreams?"

"This isn't a dream," Freya reminded her, but nevertheless, glossed over her misunderstanding. "I have…a very important task. I need…well, it's all very complicated."

"Right," Evie nodded slowly, "But what does this have to do with me?"

"I have need of your help."

"Help?" the girl quizzed.

Freya sighed. "Yes, yes, your assistance, your aid, your service," she fluttered her fingers about in gesture. Freya was beginning to doubt the intelligence of this girl. Perhaps, fate had been wrong.

Evie scowled at her, folding her arms over her chest and pursing her lips. "I know what it means," she snapped, baring her teeth. Strong and fierce. Maybe fate had been right. "I meant, why do you need my help? I don't even know you."

"I have watched you this day, and come to the conclusion that you are best suited for my purpose," Freya said grandly, smiling in encouragement.

Evie raised her eyebrows when she said she'd watched her today, but didn't bring it up, instead landing on the more important point, "And what purpose is that?"

"I need you to change the future. More specifically, the future of Camelot."

"Why?" she frowned incredulously.

"Because my love is counting on me."

Evie stared at Freya, "This must be a dream."

"This is not a dream!" Freya said, exasperated.

"I'm sorry," Evie said, holding out her hands and backing up, despite the fact that there was nothing but white expanse behind her. "But none of this is making much sense."

Freya ran a hand through her hair, before catching sight of the simple bracelet hanging around her slim wrist. She took it off and handed it to Evie. "Listen to what I have to say. And when you wake in the morning and find this bracelet around your wrist, know it was real."

Evie thought about it. "Alright." Freya clasped the bracelet around her wrist and began.

She told her about Camelot, and the prince there, and about the man who served him, the man she loved. She spoke about how the prince was to be a great ruler, but he died too soon. How it weighs on Merlin, causing him to seek solitude and ignore others. How it was distancing him from her. And then about how it was up to her, Evie, to change what was to come in any way she could so that Arthur would not meet his end. She told her about Lancelot, and how she needed to in his heart for Arthur's sake. She told her a lot, and Evie listened patiently, nodding every now and then. When she finished, she was still nodding to herself, almost in thought.

"So…" she started, "You want me to go to Camelot…and cause a whole lot of change?"

Freya nodded emphatically.

"You're insane," Evie replied simply. "Totally and utterly." Freya frowned, and began to ask what the problem was when Evie cut her off. "I can't just leave! I have friends, I have a life here. They need me."

"Camelot needs you."

"This is…I mean, this can't be…why me?"

"You are…right for this task."

"What if I fail?"

"You won't," she replied confidently.

"But what if I do? What if I can't cause the change you need?"

"I believe you are right for this."

"What makes you think I'll do this for you?" Evie asked her, and for a moment, she was thrown. She had not considered her saying no.

"You will be saving a man, a great ruler, and giving him a chance to make all the lands a better place. He is fair and just, and he will see to it that the world is peaceful. You will be changing the course of an entire kingdom for the better. And you will be giving me my Merlin back. You can not understand how I have longed for it."

Freya gazed at her heavily, willing her to understand the importance of her answer. Her actions. Evie sighed. Then nodded, "I will try."

"Thank you. And fear not; you will not go alone. I have someone in mind to accompany you, to stay with you through this task."

"Who?"

"Greta, your village's elder woman," Freya smiled brilliantly.

Evie groaned. The fog was quickly rising up again, covering them, before making them disappear from view.

"If you need me, just think about me before you go to sleep, and I will come to you…" Freya told her, her voice drifting off as they were surrounded by white mist.

Freya went back to watching through the crystallised waters.

When Evie woke in the morning and found the bracelet, she pursed her lips. Freya could tell she did not want to leave her friends. They were close and would miss each other terribly.

The very next day, she set out for Camelot.

So, thanks so much for reading! Please, let me know what you think!

Truthfully, I'm not too sure where I'm heading with this, but I thought it'd be fun :D

Thanks again.