A/N: Okay, so I wasn't actually expecting so many favorites and follows. I got three reviews as well, so I'm guessing the overall message is that you guys want me to continue this story. So here's the next chapter. Depending on how many reviews I get, I may even continue this further. As of right now, it's complete. Hope you enjoy!
Arthur rode slowly through the woods. The heavy breath of his steed brushed rhythmically against his legs as he guided it softly around the ancient trees. The king felt relaxed in the silence, savoring the feeling of being alone without the constant noise of his manservant and best friend.
"Just a little more," He told his horse, feeling slightly silly he was talking to a horse (a bad habit Merlin had—had that man not infiltrated every part of his life?) before ascending a slight rise and looking down at the lake. It had been three weeks before Arthur had deemed it safe to return and try and talk to the dead lady of the lake. He swing off his horse and tied its reins to a thick branch. He then left it to graze, heading down towards the lake.
"Hello?" He called, feeling foolish. "Freya?"
"King Arthur." A gentle voice whispered, dancing in the wind and swaying with the grass. Arthur saw no one, but his kept his eyes focused on the lake.
"I wish to speak to you," He said. "Will you consent?"
"I do consent." The whispering voice replied and from the center of the lake rose the beautiful head of dark hair followed by the same sweet face. Arthur waited silently at the edge of the lake as Freya drifted closer.
"I followed Merlin here three weeks ago," Arthur said when Freya stood on the water, waiting for him to start. "My knights and I were curious about where Merlin went every month."
"Ah," Freya said. "Merlin mustn't be very happy with you."
"That's the thing," Arthur said. "We haven't told him. This is one thing that we should have left to him, but try as I might I can't forget."
"So why come to me?" Freya asked.
"Did I kill you?" Arthur asked. Her face had struck her as familiar, and he had spent the last three weeks wracking his brain to try and remember where he had seen her before—and where he had killed her. "Did—that winged cat—that was you?"
"Yes, it was me." Freya said and reached out. Arthur tensed slightly, but all Freya did was cup his cheek. "Arthur, you freed me." She whispered. "You gave me peace and happiness. One day I will see Merlin again, and it will be forever. My death gave me peace. Please do not feel bad about that. I want to thank you for helping me when no one else had." Arthur blinked slightly and Freya removed her hand, letting it fall back to her side.
"But you died and Merlin . . . Merlin never even hinted, never told me. I tell him everything, yet I hardly know anything about him."
"Merlin has been keeping secrets his whole life. It was necessary to ensure his survival. Merlin will tell you when he gains the courage and peace of mind. For now, support him in any way that you can. Merlin loves you like a brother, and one day he will tell you. Just trust in him as you have always done."
Arthur stayed silent for a long while, looking at Freya. "What secret could be so terrible that he doesn't trust me with it?" He asked helplessly.
"I cannot say." Freya said. "It is his secret to protect."
"Very well," Arthur said. "I only wish he would tell me."
"I know," Freya said. "Come back if you need someone to talk to; I get lonely out here in the lake sometimes."
"I will," Arthur said. Freya smiled and started to walk back to the center of the lake. "Do I tell Merlin what I've overheard?" He shouted suddenly. Freya paused, chest deep in the lake. Her head turned and looked back.
"Only if you want," She said. "This is your decision, Arthur. Tell him what you will."
"Thank you," Arthur said and watched as Freya finally sank below the waves. He then turned and headed back to his horse. The ride back was as silent as the first and when the welcomed sight of Camelot came into view, Arthur finished the ride by coaxing the horse into a gallop.
Arthur entered his rooms shortly afterwards and found Merlin cleaning.
"Sire!" He exclaimed and tripped over the upturned bucket he had been standing on. Merlin fell, the cloth his had been using falling on his head. "Where have you been?" Arthur's clumsy manservant scrambled to his feet, eyes sparkling with mischief and worry.
"On a ride." Arthur said truthfully. "Merlin, there's something I want to tell you . . ."