III. The Lady of the Lake

It was the darkest hour of night as they rode through the forest and the moon was obscured by thick black clouds, but Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table found their path illuminated: thousands of tiny lights hung in the air, flickering and twinkling in front of them, as if the stars themselves had come down from the skies to guide their way. Above him Arthur could see the Great Dragon, silhouetted against the purple-black sky. In front of him sat Merlin, silent and unmoving, wrapped tightly in Arthur's red cloak. Arthur could see Merlin's blood on his armor, and he could feel it drying on his hands. Arthur wondered if Merlin woke at all. And he wondered if the blood would ever come off.

They rode for hours, and not one of them spoke. The events of this evening had been altogether too extreme, too strange, too gut-wrenching for words, and so each man shut himself down, his thoughts on one simple mission only: get Merlin to the Lake of Avalon.

Dawn was creeping slowly over the horizon when they arrived.

Arthur and his knights emerged from the wood and into a clearing. There was just enough grey light to make out the expanse of the lake, surrounded by woods, with snow-capped mountains rising up from the opposite shore. The Great Dragon circled silently, high above them. Arthur dismounted, and then pulled Merlin down and lay him gently on the ground. His knights stood behind him as he turned to face the lake.

"Arthur," came a voice, but it was like none Arthur had ever heard. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, and he and his knights all looked around, searching for its source."Arthur…" It was a female voice, or many female voices, Arthur wasn't sure. "Arthur," his name rang out again, more sung than spoken, and he realized that the voices came from the flickering blue lights that danced slowly in the air around him. Then the lake itself seemed to glow, only subtly, so that Arthur wasn't certain whether or not he was imagining it.

To his left and slightly behind him, Leon gave a startled jerk as he looked off into the wood. Arthur followed his gaze and saw dozens of cloaked figures emerging from the dark forest. The sound of gentle footsteps in the brush caused the knights to look to the right, and to see that even more Druids were slowly appearing. Dozens quickly became scores.

"Do not fear, Arthur," sang the gentle lights, "They are here for Emrys." The Druids themselves stopped and stood silently, watching from the edge of the wood, their multicolored cloaks muted and barely visible through the mist in the weak dawn light. Arthur looked back at the lake.

"What do I do?" he asked.

"You must bear him into the lake," came the gentle reply.

Arthur crouched down, and unwrapped the crimson cloak from around Merlin's unconscious form. Then he lifted his friend in his arms and walked forward, stepping from the dirt and grass onto the sand and stones, and then down into the water.

The lake was glowing, he was sure of it now. The surface seemed to glitter with moonlight though there was no moon in the sky. He had expected the water to be cold, but as he walked further out, so that the water met his knees and then his thighs, it felt mild and comfortable. He stopped when the water reached his waist, and Merlin's body, still clasped tightly in his arms, was partially submerged. And Arthur felt…calm. The aches in his tired muscles were easing, the weight of his burden seemed to lessen as he felt newfound strength surge through him.

The glittering lights hovered all around him, and over the entire lake, giving everything a gentle blue illumination. He could see how pure the snow was on the peaks of the surrounding mountains, he could make out purple wildflowers on the shore, the mist glimmered in the air over the lake, and he felt that this was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Then the water in the center of the lake began to gently ripple, and Arthur saw a head appear. The face of a woman emerged from the depths, an ageless face that looked at once very young and very old. Her dark hair billowed out of the water and up into the air, swirling around her head as if she were still floating beneath the surface. She moved slowly towards him. Her bare shoulders now emerging and her skin as white as snow and glistening with pale light. A gown clung to her arms, just below the shoulders and flowing over her chest. It was of a material the likes of which Arthur had never seen; it looked as though liquid silver had swirled itself around her body, shining and ever moving.

She walked slowly forward and came to stand directly before Arthur, Merlin's body pressed in between them.

"Arthur Pendragon," she said, and her voice echoed slightly, almost as if it was coming from far away. She looked him in the eyes and gave a sad smile, her lips closed. Then she looked down at Merlin, and finally she scanned the shores of her lake.

Arthur was shocked when he realized he'd forgotten that they were not alone. He had never lost himself before like he had so many times on this night. He followed her gaze and by the pale dawn light and the glittering blue starlight of magic, he could see over a hundred hooded Druids lining the forest's edge. On the shore he could see his strong and still knights, watching the scene before them with awe.

Finally, he turned back to the woman, "My lady," he said, with a respectful bow of his head.

She smiled her sad, close-lipped smile again and looked down at Merlin. "Oh, Merlin," she sighed, and brought a hand out of the water to caress his pale cheek. As the water dripped from her hand it seemed to wash away more of the blood from Merlin's face than Arthur would have thought possible. "Oh, my love," she said.

"You know him?" asked Arthur, and he could tell by the tenderness with which the Lady looked at his friend that she did.

"Oh yes," she did not take her hand, nor her eyes from Merlin's unconscious face as she answered. "We were in love." She pulled her other hand from the water, and cradled Merlin's head. "We met in Camelot," she said, her eerie voice gentle and soft. "Only a few years ago, but it seems like a lifetime…"

Arthur watched her, almost hypnotized as she caressed his friend's injured features.

"We were going to run away together," she continued, "Run to a place where no one knew us, where we would no longer be hunted like monsters for our magic." There was no anger in her voice, Arthur noticed, only sadness. Still, he felt guilty.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I died," she said. She finally looked up and into Arthur's eyes, and he stared back, still as a grave. "I was mortally wounded by Uther's men," Arthur felt the guilt twist in his stomach like a knife, even though nothing about her tone was accusatory. "Merlin brought me to this lake, and I died on its shores. I died in his arms."

Arthur felt like weeping. Perhaps he was. He was no longer sure.

They were silent for a moment, and then he felt her reach underneath Merlin, as if to take him from his arms. "Don't worry," she said, when he held onto his friend, "My sisters will bear him up." And the glittering lights that hung in the air nearest them swarmed beneath Merlin, holding his body upon the surface as the Lady of the Lake took him from Arthur, backing a few steps away into the dark waters before stopping. Then, a hand on his cheek once more, she bent down and kissed him.

Merlin's eyes opened and he looked into the Lady's face. Something about her had changed, Arthur saw. Her hair had drifted gently down to her shoulders and now hung wetly down her back. The eerie silver glow that emanated from her skin and gown faded. The strange agelessness disappeared from her face. A touch of pink blossomed in her cheeks. She smiled, broadly and genuinely this time, as she looked into Merlin's eyes, and she looked for all the world like a normal girl.

"Freya," Merlin said, smiling up at her. He too, looked changed. He looked very young, like the innocent and gangling boy Arthur had met years ago.

Merlin brought a hand up and cupped Freya's chin. She covered it with her own, and even though he stood away from them, Arthur could see tears in both their eyes. Merlin, it seemed, saw nothing but Freya. They kissed again, more passionately this time. Merlin's hand reaching round to the back of Freya's neck and holding her gently but tightly, as if to be sure she was really there.

They held each other like that for moments or hours, Arthur wasn't sure which. The lights of magic drifted in the air around them, and they both seemed to glow, ever so fainty, like the surface of the lake. Not Arthur, nor the knights, nor the Druids made a sound.

After a long while, Merlin spoke again. "Am I dead?" he asked.

"No," said Freya gently, "This world still needs you."

The smile faded from his lips. "But I want to be dead," he stated matter-of-factly, "This world hurts too much." Arthur thought he felt his heart break

"I know it does, my Merlin," said Freya, his face in her hands and her face in his, "but you are strong, and you can bear it. For when your work here is done, you and I will be together again." She stroked his cheek, "I promise you." Tears streamed from her eyes as she spoke, but she was smiling.

"Freya," said Merlin once more, but she brought a finger gently to his lips.

"It is time for you to sleep now, my love." She leant forward and kissed him once more, her tears splashing onto his face. His eyes fell closed and his hands dropped gently back into the water. She kept her lips pressed to his, and Arthur could see the eerie glow return to her, her hair billowed up again, water trickled gently off her body and onto Merlin's, washing away his blood and closing up his wounds. The bruises began to fade, and when she finally pulled away it was as if a week's healing had happened in just those few moments.

She looked up at Arthur, and her voice again had that strange, otherworldly quality, "He will recover," she said, and began to walk towards Arthur again, Merlin half in her arms, half borne up by the magic light. When she reached him she placed Merlin into his arms, and the lights that had held him aloft drifted away and twinkled out. Under the water, Arthur could feel the Lady's hands gently grasping his arms where he held onto Merlin, under his back and beneath his knees. "It will take time," she said, giving his arms a gentle squeeze, "but he is no longer in danger."

It took a moment for Arthur to find his voice, but finally he said, "Thank you."

Then the Lady leant towards him, kissed him gently on the cheek, and whispered, "I forgive you, Arthur." And she turned, and walked back into the water. Before he knew it she was gone.

Arthur just stood there for a while, Merlin sleeping peacefully in his arms, the lake's waters cooling around him. He realized the magical lights had all disappeared, and that the light of day was filtering through a blanket of clouds and mist and onto the earth. He looked back towards the surrounding forest, and watched as the last of the Druids disappeared silently, back from whence they came. Then he looked at his faithful knights, waiting on the shore. Waiting for their king, and for their friend.

As he walked slowly out of the lake, he realized that his armor gleamed. The blood had all been washed from it, and from his hands.