The ripples on my surface lapped at the dirt shore, the trees around me swaying in the morning breeze. There, under the largest tree's canopy, sat a man. He was young in appearance, adorned with jeans, a hoodie, and an unusual neckerchief. He gazed into my depths with the eyes of one older, troubled with grief and regret from all he had witnessed. We spoke, recalling the times of old when knights and castles and magic were at their peak.
I first saw the man, though he was more of a boy then, shortly after two Sidhe had left from Avalon. While that place may lay in my depths, it's dimension is apart from mine, it's true location beyond my sight and jurisdiction. The Sidhe returned with someone to drown in my depths. What an awful thing to use me for!
Arthur, for I later learned that was his name, was a prince. They planned on killing him in order to gain passage back to the immortal realm of their birth, an archaic way of redemption in my opinion. That's when the young man, Merlin, had destroyed the Sidhe with their own staff. He jumped into my waters, and I changed my tide to lead him to his steadily sinking friend. I didn't want to become a graveyard. How ironic.
The next time Merlin visited my shore was brief, but vastly important. In his hands, he carried an artifact of great power and magic. I could feel it's presence when it was made, and as it grew closer, I grew excited. Destiny whispered into my waters, Fate's shrill voice echoing in the breeze that blew above. When Merlin stood just beyond my lapping, I was swirling with delight. The sword in his hand would change many things, and I had the task of hiding it, however brief. When he tossed it, it's power cut through me, a whirring of magic and metal could be heard even by the likes of man. My presence shielded it from the outside world, and it's power pulled even Avalon closer. The sacred magic of the dragons sunk deeper in my waters, and I settled in a state of bliss.
When I saw him again, I realized how much I hated the immortal forces. In his arms, he carried a dying girl, her long dark hair caked with dirt. She wore a purple dress, blood slowly staining it red. Merlin's emotions were unbearable, violent waves of pain and love roaring through the magic of the earth. She was beautiful, but Death had his hands on her, easing her soul for departure. Fate, however, intervened, for Destiny had other ideas for her. She was to burn in my waters, her soul becoming the pathway between this world and Avalon. As the girl burned, Freya became the Lady of my Lake. We briefly shared emotions of sadness before she took her place in the gateway. Merlin left, and I wished that I wasn't water. My friend needed comforting and I could only be a spectator.
When a pixie spoke into Avalon from my shore, I thought nothing of it, until the creature mentioned of a changeling marrying a prince. Ancient knowledge stirred within me, and I realized that the prince was the same one that almost drowned. It's not like the information would do me any good; a being like me can do very little to change the world of man. It gets boring sometimes, just sitting and swaying. Fate's gossip and Destiny's plans can be better entertainment, if one has the patience to follow them as they progress. When the pixie did not return, I assumed that Merlin had taken care of it.
It was nearly a year before I saw him again. Freya had suddenly stirred from her place, her soul leaping with joy. She told me how she could see her lover again, how he carried a small vial of my water. Reconnecting my being, I was able to shine a image of her into the lost water. I watched the encounter, the bittersweet reunion short lived. On a boat, the young man sailed out into my waters, where Freya took form once again and Excalibur left my protection.
Over time, I became the resting place for two knights who were friends with Merlin. Though important in life, they would not play a role in death like Freya's. Death had already taken them, their bodies merely burning upon me as the number of graves I held increased. But nothing could've prepared me for his next visit.
The Great Dragon, as he was named by men, landed by me. I could sense Destiny's glee, but also her cruelty. Merlin dragged Arthur, a faint glimmer of hope shone in his eyes. After exchanging words with Kilgharrah, he sobbed. Arthur was dead, his soul, through Freya's pathway, could venture to Avalon. There was no burning, his body simply drifted in a boat. Using the little power I had to influence the world, I urged the boat to the deeper water, where the mist his it's existence and Freya could take him. Merlin threw the powerful sword once more towards my depths. Taking form as Freya had, Arthur caught Excalibur, before leaving for Avalon.
Merlin hadn't left my shore for years after Arthur's death, wallowing in self loathing and sorrow. We spoke occasionally, now that he was able to listen, but I always initiated and led the conversation. He would never smile, but sometimes his grief would lessen a bit for just a moment, and that made it worth the effort. I could finally be a friend that wouldn't leave him. I told him what I knew, and, when he could, he told me about Arthur. With some persuasion, I got him to leave me and rejoin the mortal world. He always came back within the year, but soon, he was happier. He didn't make long term friends, for they would die while he remained immortal, but at least he was talking to others. I had wondered why he was unaging, constant in appearance and youth. I soon got my answer.
Destiny ran her mouth one day, saying how Arthur would come back one day and would need Merlin, but not yet. I told her she was a bitch to make someone as selfless as him wait. We don't talk anymore, and Merlin still waits.