Note: Thank you all for your lovely reviews, alerts, and favorites! I once again feel empowered to write this story! Special thanks to FireChildSlytherin5 and nycorrall for their constant stream of support :) Please give me a review on what you think about Freya's "return"! I tried to explain it in a fairly believable, logical way-I hope I didn't disappoint anyone!

Chapter 6

"F-Freya," Merlin stuttered, "What? H-how?"

"Take my hand," Freya smiled as she stepped onto the shore.

Her regal-looking purple dress fanned out behind her as she walked hand-in-hand with Merlin. They were walking away from the lake now, and back to the meadow which Merlin had vacated. Once they had neared the middle of the field, with the lake still in view, and the blanket of wildflowers soft beneath them, Freya sat down. Merlin followed her example-otherwise he would've had to let go of her hand.

They stayed sitting in silence holding hands for what felt like hours (or maybe it was merely minutes) when Merlin decided laid his head down upon Freya's lap and closed his eyes. Immediately, she began stroking his hair-it was almost unconsciously done-and began humming.

Eventually, Merlin broke the peacefulness between the two of them. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he said quietly, "You still haven't told me how…why…you came to me, Freya."

She sighed softly. The breath was the final note to her wordless melody.

"It's a long story Merlin. One which I'm not sure you want to hear," she finally said.

"Please, tell me. I want to know. I want to help," Merlin pleaded.

His eyes were no longer closed, and his concerned cobalts bored into her deep brown eyes, as if imploring her to tell him.

"I did die," Freya started after a pause. She could not resist her lover's gaze-his overpowering desire to protect her practically overwhelmed her.

"When I did, I saw the gates of Avalon. The spirits there, they recognized my suffering in life. They believed that I was unjustly cursed, and therefore died an untimely death. So they halted me from fully passing to the Great Unknown. Although they wanted to help me, they could not restore me to life. The Greater Power was the only one who was able to do that. So they took my case to the Power, and they deliberated for a while. Finally, it was agreed upon that I could return to the world of the living. Apparently, my role in that sphere was not yet over. The Greater Power knows all and can see into the future. It claimed that what was written could not be changed-I was needed to help unite Albion. That was why they had found sympathy in their hearts, and stopped my journey On. So in the end, the Power decided to help me, and return me to the living-but not out of sympathy. Instead, it did so because of the power of Destiny, which sometimes trumped its own. However, it was clear to the Power that my role in uniting Albion was not as a mere mortal. Thus, instead of returning as simply Freya, it made me the Lady of the Lake, the guardian of the Lake of Avalon.

"My power was supreme as the Lady. Nothing could triumph over it in my domain except those spirits who had appointed me. However, I could never leave the lake. I was trapped there, and had to wait what Destiny had in store for me. When I became the Lady, I gained the privilege to see into the future as well as a greater general knowledge of magic and healing. I was allowed to know what my part in Albion was. It was to release the great sword forged in the dragon's breath-Excalibur, it will be called-from the lake's depths when the time was right. Once it was completed, however, I was unsure what would happen.

"As you know, that task was completed a few months ago. I gave you the sword to vanquish Morgana's immortal army. Once my job was done, I felt a force expelling me from the water. I did not understand what it was at first. However, now I believe that it was the spirits of Avalon telling me that my time as guardian was over. As I lay gasping upon the shore of my watery prison I felt my consciousness slipping quickly away from me. I stood up, swaying slightly from the fact that I was about to black out, and managed to make my way to a bush on the fringe of the lake's boundary. I hoped to at least make it to the main road, but apparently that was not to be. Then all became black, and I knew nothing once more."

Freya became silent as she finished her tale. Merlin had still remained with his head in her lap, his long legs spread out on the grass. They had not broken the other's gaze throughout all of Freya's tale, but partway through it Merlin's hands reached up to take one of her hands in his as the other continued to stroke his hair.

Merlin sat up slowly, opening his mouth to speak. He wanted to comfort Freya, tell her how strong she was. He wanted to express his undying love for her again. And he wanted to ask more questions. How was this connection between them possible? Where did the scratches come from? Did she know she was unconscious? Was she aware that Merlin was looking for a cure for her? However, as Merlin opened his mouth to speak a voice pierced his serene dream-world.

"Merlin!"

Merlin's eyes opened wide as his mouth remained partially open. He didn't want to leave just yet-and he hadn't even-really-said anything to her! But Freya merely smiled again, although this time it was a small, sad smile. She let go of his hands now, and put one index finger up to his mouth in a shushing motion.

"Hush now Merlin, it's okay," she said soothingly, as if she had read his mind which screamed at his mouth to say everything that he could before the dream was over, as if she had sensed Merlin's distress at her parting, "I love you."

"Merlin!"

Merlin jolted awake. It was morning now-what had happened to his turn to take watch? Arthur was already up and moving about their campsite, smothering the remains of their fire into the earth. Apparently, the prat had decided not to wake him. It would've touched Merlin if their quest was taken under normal circumstances. It meant that Arthur had noticed how restless he had become during the night, and left him to sleep. However, this was not just another normal journey, so Arthur's selfless action was not acknowledged with the normal dosage of gratitude Merlin would've shown the blonde. This was especially true since it was Arthur's fault that Merlin's dream had been interrupted as well.

"Took you long enough. We still have a day's ride ahead of us," Arthur's rough voice pulled his thoughts back to a present which was filled with an aching back due to the uneven ground and a throbbing headache due to his concern and confusion over Freya, "I already took down our camp-which was technically your job."

Of course, the reprimand had to be included at the end. The message had held most of Arthur's usual gruffness to it. Merlin shook his head and stood up. However, as he prepared to mount his horse he realized that there was something to Arthur's tone. Something that, had he not been so distraught over Freya, perhaps he would've figured out.

….

Arthur had indeed stayed up all night on watch. He had seen Merlin muttering in his sleep-something about Freya. So Arthur figured that he could help his friend by not disturbing the little sleep he knew Merlin would get. He knew that his manservant's relationship with the girl was more complex and stronger than he would admit. However, it wasn't this truth that hurt Arthur. It was the fact that Merlin insisted on keeping secrets which cut him the deepest. So Arthur took advantage of his friend's unconsciousness to evaluate his own feelings. It was something which he tried to avoid at all costs on normal days. However, things regarding Merlin never seemed to fall under the "normality" label-except for the fact that Merlin was a normal part of Arthur's life now.

Merlin had not confided in him about his past. This seemed to be a conscious choice made by the young man. Thus, anything to do with Freya was strictly "off-limits" to talk about. These facts stung Arthur to his core. He constantly confided in Merlin, yet why couldn't the young man do the same with him? It was a puzzle which confused Arthur to no end as well. He thought that they were friends-maybe even-although he would have never admitted it out loud-best friends. Men bonded in the kind of brotherhood they had were supposed to sacrifice for each other. They were supposed to protect and help one another to the best of their abilities. Arthur had done this, hadn't he? For crying out loud, he had voluntarily offered to go with Merlin on a quest to save this girl who obviously was very special to him-despite the fact that he had various royal duties to attend in Camelot! 'Examining my feelings really doesn't' help anything,' Arthur concluded as the dawn was just beginning to break.

So he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts from his mind. Instead, he decided to imagine the type of girl Freya was-and how she and Merlin really met. It was more pleasant to think of these sorts of things than the hurt Merlin had caused him. So he settled into his patch of ground, settling in for the long watch ahead, as his brain became engrossed in thoughts of Merlin and Freya's true story.

Soon enough, the dawn had come, and with the morning came Arthur's relief from duty. So he began to disassemble the camp-which was usually Merlin's job-and pack up the horses. It was early morning by the time he had finished. He was tired-he hadn't rested at all last night since he had been on watch. However, that didn't stop him. A warrior-a knight of Camelot-was supposed to be able to survive trivial things like an all-night watch and be ready to go the next morning. Especially if the trivial matters came from protecting loved ones. So Arthur just shook his head, splashed some water from his canteen on his face, and was ready to go once more.

It was then that he couldn't put off waking Merlin any longer. So he walked over to the youth-the imaginary barrier between them temporarily put on hold.

"Merlin!" he called.

The raven-haired man stirred slightly, his brow creasing, but he didn't wake up.

"Merlin!" he called again.

This time Merlin jolted upright. As soon as Arthur saw that he was awake, he walked back to the main part of the campsite, and stamped out the remains of their campfire. He noticed that Merlin was still partially groggy from his slumber, so he decided to help him out with a slight bit of banter.

Took you long enough. We still have a day's ride ahead of us. I already took down our camp-which was technically your job," Arthur offered in a slightly brisk tone. It was partially to retain some sense of normality to their situation and their friendship after a previously rough day. However, it was also there to cover up the hurt that Merlin wouldn't confide in him, which still stung like an open wound to Arthur.

But Merlin merely shrugged it off and began to mount his horse. No witty remark was uttered, and Arthur's conversation starter spectacularly failed. The prince regent sighed heavily. There was still a long journey to go until they reached the general vicinity in which the lake was rumored to be. And it would feel even longer if Merlin's barriers remained up, and the young man's soul locked away from Arthur forever.

….

Gwen had woken up that morning to find Freya smiling. It was a faint smile-barely there-but it was. The smile was serene-as if she had accepted death's invitation to come along willingly. Or perhaps she had just finished having a conversation with her lover. However, the way the corners of her mouth twitched upwards looked more than serene-they looked secretive-as if only she and her companion knew what she was talking about. Either way, Gwen rapidly went to the girl's side to make sure that she still had a pulse.

It was there-but only just. Her body remained as cold as ever despite Gwen's best efforts to keep her warm. The fire had been burning brightly for most of the night, and Freya had taken all of Gwen's (plus some of the castle's) blankets.

'How on earth will she be able to last three more days?' Gwen thought, chewing her bottom lip in worry.