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BuBbLeS pArT 3

"Welcome, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur stared up at the woman before him. She was pale and had dark brown-almost black hair. She had high cheekbones and blood red lips. She was beautiful, but she was no Gwen. Her dress was a deep burgundy reddish-purple that flowed down to her feet, which were barefoot. It kind of ruined the princess image.

Arthur tore his gaze from the woman and glanced at his surroundings. He was underwater again, except this time there was no overwhelming darkness. Instead, the water was slightly muted, as if closer to the surface. If he looked up, he could vaguely make out the cresent shape of moon wavering through the currents. Shells and a few plants dotted the endless landscape. He tried to see the end, but all he found was a blurry line in the distance. Maybe it was a way out of here. He took a step in that direction.

"It won't work, you know."

The girl's voice, cold and ringing though the water, broke his thoughts. He jerked back suddenly.

"What?"

She smiled at him humorlessly.

"Getting out. I've tried. It doesn't work."

Her tone was pitying, like she'd gone through this too.

"So am I stuck here forever?"

Arthur glanced around worriedly, though there was nothing there. He had a kingdom depending on him!

She furrowed her brow, deep in thought. "I'm not sure. I'm the only one down here that I know of." She frowned. "Why are you down here?"

Arthur blinked. "You mean you didn't summon me?" How else had he gotten here?

"No. At least not intentionally." She gazed at him curiously.

They stared at each other in silence, not knowing what to say.

"You know my name, what is yours?" Arthur asked tentatively.

"Freya." She said quietly.

"That's very beautiful, Freya."

She got this faraway look in her eyes and smiled, like he'd just reminded her of something pleasant.

"Thank you."

The awkward silence returned with a vengeance. Arthur was looking around for anything else to focus on, when he noticed the strange markings on Freya's arm.

"You're a Druid." He said accusingly. Druids practiced magic! A sorceress was standing right in front of him! She probably did summon him here in hopes of- of what? Arthur blinked. Shouldn't he be dead already? Freya didn't seem like an evil sorceress. She seemed sad and lonely. That's probably her plan! Some sensible part of his brain spoke up.

Unaware of Arthur's inner battle, Freya simply replied "Was."

Was? What was that supposed to mean? That she got kicked out? Was that even possible?

It was about then that Arthur noticed he was still breathing bubbles. And Freya wasn't.

A sickening feeling opened up in the pit of his stomach as the realization hit him.

"You're dead."

Freya had been staring off at the horizon unconcernedly. That had bothered him before. But now, it made perfect sense. Of course she wouldn't be afraid of him! She was already dead.

"Yes."

She answered back evenly and resigned, as if she'd already come to terms with her death.

"How did you die?" Arthur winced; he hadn't meant to sound so blunt and uncaring.

Freya didn't appear to care. She turned toward him and stared straight into his eyes, for the first time.

"I was dealt a mortal blow."

There was something so familiar about her eyes and the dress, as if he'd seen it before. Her dress before was beautiful, -but now it gave the appearance of blood, and he tried to get the image of Freya dying out of his head. It seemed too familiar.

"By who?" Arthur shivered from a sudden cold current. It was the first time the water actually felt like water.

"Why should you concern yourself, milord, with the death of a simple Druid girl?" she ignored his question.

Arthur asked himself this question already in his head, and truthfully? He didn't have an answer. He shouldn't care. If anything, he should be cheering for her death, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to do that.

"I don't know."

She smiled sadly at him. "That's just it, isn't it? Wasn't expecting Druids to be people too?"

Arthur felt like he should have been offended, but instead all he felt was shame. He hadn't expected to deal with the emotional repercussions of the deaths of people he was supposed to hate. His father had killed so many for the sake of Camelot, but how many had mothers and fathers, sons and daughters? He'd had this conversation with himself before, but he had never been faced before with someone like Freya, who didn't seem too different from his very own Gwen, or Morgona. It made him think his whole life. For the first time in forever, Arthur doubted his father.

Freya stared at the conflicting emotions on his face. Her own face softened.

"I died in comfort though,"

Arthur broke from his thought to look at her.

"My love built a pyre and covered me in flowers. He set it adrift on this lake and burned my body."

Her eyes had that faraway look again. Arthur felt terrible; instead of comforting him, he only felt worse. To be left behind; to watch your true love die; he'd heard it was the most horrible feeling in the world. His father attested to that.

Arthur's eyes lit up. If this was real, maybe he'd be able to comfort Freya's love. It might help make up for supporting his father without question on this.

"Who was your love?" He asked softly, as Freya was still reminiscing.

She turned startled, "Oh, No one you'd know." Freya said, avoiding his eyes, hands tucked behind her back.

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Why won't you tell me? I could find him and give him a message."

Freya's eyes turned bright with hope and she debated it for a moment before she answered.

"No," she said shaking her head, "he wouldn't want to relive it again."

Arthur frowned, but silently vowed to find him anyway. Plus he wanted to investigate Freya's death.

"So who dealt you the mortal blow? I could at least bring you to justice."

Freya did the thing he least expected. She threw her head back and laughed a loud, clear, ringing sound.

Arthur was baffled. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," she giggled and glanced at the strains of light coming from the East. "I think it might be time for you to return, I hope you come back; it's very lonely down here at the bottom of a lake."

Arthur glanced at the sunrise in disbelief, he must have spent hours down here, but it only felt like minutes.

He opened his mouth to say good-bye, but he was overcome by a dark cloud that descended on his brain, and the last thing he recalled was a faint voice, muffled by water, calling him to wakefulness.

A/N: I feel really proud of this chapter, I hope you do too. REVIEW!