Note: I know, I'm a terrible person for not updating sooner. However, the past few weeks have been super hectic for me, and most likely the next two coming up will be as well. But don't worry Merlin fans (said in Bradley James' voice ;) ), I haven't forgotten about my story! Ending feels a little rushed to me, but review so I know what you think?

Chapter 8

Arthur liked to be in control of things. It was in his nature, and he had learned to expect to be the one in charge of the situation. If he was, then he would naturally be able to fix whatever problem arose. However, the few moments when he was not in charge, Arthur was at a loss. This situation with Merlin was something that Arthur, albeit begrudgingly, would have to concede that he was not in control of.

The young man had not woken up despite Arthur's best efforts to rouse him. He had stopped screaming the name Freya a few hours ago, but he was still shivering like mad. The sweat on his brow had soaked his clammy skin quite thoroughly, and he was still very much unconscious. Arthur had maintained a silent vigil over Merlin that night, watching his friend like a hawk for any sign of a change in his condition. Yet nothing changed until dawn.

The third day was rising with the sun, and it was still almost half a day's ride to the area where the Sea was rumored to be located. 'We would've been within a few minutes of the bloody place if not for my foolishness in forcing Merlin to stop by the stupid river,' Arthur thought dismally.

He continued to brood over his darkening thoughts when, as the sun hit their camping spot with a brilliant array of light, Merlin shot upright into a rigid sitting position. He was awake.

….

Merlin found himself in the field of wildflowers again. The sky was once again shinning, and the lake was still there at the end of the meadow. It was exactly the same as before, but this time Merlin knew precisely where he wanted to go. So he wasted no time in moving quickly to the shores of the lake to await the appearance of his Love.

He waited impatiently on the slightly rocky beach, tapping his foot up and down with anxiety. He still didn't understand why they could communicate now through their dreams. Freya had said that she laid by the bushes for months. If she had been out of the water for that long, why hadn't she contacted him before? Or was she not able to before now? And why? Furthermore, how did she get those hideous gashes on her arms?

All of these things Merlin wanted to ask before he had to wake-up again. However, as he was neatly arranging the queue of his questions in his head he realized that something was wrong. He was unsure exactly how much time had passed since he arrived in the meadow, but something was different now. The wind was starting to pick up, and the blue sky was in danger of approaching storm clouds on the horizon. The weather was taking a turn for the worse, and the lake didn't show a single sign that Freya might dwell beneath it.

An unsettling feeling began to settle itself down in the pit of Merlin's stomach. Something was not right. He looked around uneasily from his position on the shore until he could bear it no longer. He began to rush forward towards the water. He had to know if Freya was alright. However as soon as he tried to get to the lake he was repelled back by some invisible, unknown power. He was flung against the ground, landing painfully on his back. He stood up, though, despite the pain and ran again at the lake. This time he used his magic to protect himself as he went full force into the force field. Yet once again the lake flung him back onto the shores. The storm which had previously been off in the distance was now beginning to take action. The wind was starting to pick up, and the blue sky was completely covered by dark, thundering clouds.

Merlin was in even more pain now than he was before as he hit the rocks again. He could tell that the impact threw his back slightly out of alignment, and that he had serious whiplash. 'It is unnatural to be in so much pain in a mere dream,' Merlin thought. However, at the same time the notion ran its course in his mind he knew this was no ordinary dream. And since it was too real to simply be his imagination, Merlin knew how important it was to fight his pain and find Freya.

The storm was starting to pick up now, but the intensity of it merely pushed Merlin onward. He wasn't afraid of a few thunderclouds. After all, he was the master of the weather, and all storms obeyed him.

So he rose once again to his feet and attempted to approach the lake, although this time a little shakily. Yet there was a fiery determination in his eye that proclaimed he was going to find Freya no matter what the price he had to pay.

As he reached the water's edge this time there was no power holding him back. Merlin started to head towards the center of the lake as fast as he could, but suddenly he stopped. For as soon as he entered a few feet into the water the surface of the lake became smooth as glass. In fact, Merlin might've mistaken it for glass if it wasn't for the fact that it didn't feel hard around his calves. He tried to move forward, but his legs were trapped. He was stuck in his uncomfortable half-standing, half-sprinting position when he saw it. Her. Freya.

The storm was in full force now, framing the lake with its terrible power when the lightening began. It served to illuminate briefly every few minutes the horrible sight the unnaturally still waters contained. For underneath its surface was Freya, trapped underneath the terrible glass-like structure.

Merlin was sure that he heart broke at the sight of her. The panicked, scared look in her eyes as her mouth moved to form his name over and over again while she pounded on the surface of the water shattered his entire being. She was trapped beneath the lake, and only the lightening served to show Merlin the steady stream of bubbles which were streaming from her mouth.

"Freya! FREYA!" Merlin shouted as loud as he could, frantically motioning to her whilst trying to move at the same time. But the water held him firm, and his struggling was for naught despite his attempts to escape using magic.

His voice was drowned out by the sounds of the thunder, but Freya somehow seemed to hear him, for as soon as he began to shout her name they made eye contact. Blue met brown, and an unspoken conversation seemed to pass between them. "I will find a way to save you. I promise." "I love you, Merlin."

And then before he could say anything do anything-

Merlin jolted awake. The sun had disturbed his slumber, and now he was unsure about which way was up and which was down. It was disorienting to come out of a dream in which Freya's life depended on him only to find that he was actually camping out in the woods with Arthur-

Arthur! Speaking of the prat, Merlin realized that he was looming over his own body, peering at him with a bit of uncertainty.

"Um, Merlin?" Arthur coughed quietly. He was afraid of startling Merlin even more so. He looked like a deer caught in a hunter's trap when he woke-up, wide-eyed and slightly on edge.

Merlin shook his head, willing himself to focus on Arthur's voice. It was about the only thing which didn't make him want to throw-up right now.

"Ugghhh, Arthur? What-where are we?" Merlin asked shakily, he didn't exactly trust himself to speak at this moment.

He saw the blonde man's forehead crinkle with concern before he answered, "We're camping by a small stream which you insisted was a safe location. We're a little less than half a day's ride to the Tree of Grace which serves as a landmark for the location the Sea is rumored to be around. You-you were having a nightmare Merlin. And I couldn't wake you up."

"Oh," was all the young man could say in response to Arthur. He didn't realize they were so far from where he wanted to be. On top of that, he still felt slightly dizzy.

Merlin had rested his head in his hands, his palms were pressed against his eyelids

Meanwhile, Arthur just sat by him watching him silently. He wanted to confess to Merlin that he had been scared for a while about the young man's well-being. He had been worried sick, and frightened that he would never be able to confess to Merlin his biggest fears, his largest doubts that he'd had on their journey. While he had sat by his friend throughout the night, Arthur had come to terms with the fact that he needed to confide in Merlin once he woke up before it was too late. It also meant a lot of courage and squashed pride on his part, if he was to do it. But Merlin was more important than a slightly deflated ego, Arthur finally decided.

Except now that the man was awake, it was harder to find the courage that Arthur had been nurturing while he had been unconscious.

However, he steeled himself and summoned up his courage to do the one thing he avoided at all cost-talking about his feelings with Merlin. Because if he didn't, Arthur knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he never got the chance again. Furthermore, he noticed, Merlin wasn't exactly in the best shape to poke fun at him if he told him his concerns. Not that that always squashed the endless supply of cheek his black-haired companion seemed to have, but Arthur decided it was do or die time-now or never.

"Hey, Merlin?" Arthur asked hesitantly. This was harder than he thought.

Merlin looked up at the address. Truth be told, he felt in no mood to humor Arthur. He had much larger problems to face. Like Freya and her survival both consciously and unconsciously. But the tone of his master's voice, and the look in his eye stopped Merlin's retort. Arthur looked severely uncomfortable and nervous. He only got that look when he had a serious issue to talk about.

"What is it Arthur?" Merlin asked in a softer tone than he had originally planned on using.

"Look, I-I just wanted to ask what the heck is going on with you lately. Despite the fact that I am, as you rightfully call me on some occasions, an idiot and oblivious to my surroundings, I'm not with how you've been acting lately. I'm not so much of a fool that you don't want to talk with me about what's going on in that funny little mind of yours. But I don't get it-why? I tell you practically everything about my life, and you tell me nothing about yours! Why do you put up with me and my problems if I never help you sometimes? I don't know if it's something I've done or what to put you in this foul mood, but I'm sorry. For whatever it is. I just want us to go back to the way we were. I know that I was an arrogant downright mean bully before you got here and I don't deserve a friend like you! But I really am trying Merlin, my goodness I am, but you've got to help me understand….something." Arthur's confession tumbled out of his mouth, the words pouring out and over each other one after another.

It was like the floodgates were open, and he couldn't stop it even if he tried. However, due to this his words came out in a single breath, and were garbled together. He hoped that Merlin understood what he said, though. Because he would rather die than have to repeat such a pathetic, un-masculine like speech ever again in his entire life.

Arthur was lucky, though, and Merlin had heard every word perfectly. He didn't realize that Arthur had been so concerned about him, or that his behavior had bothered the royal so much. In all honestly, Merlin had been so focused on rescuing Freya that he hadn't noticed his callous behavior towards his best friend. He knew it was probably an unconscious off-shoot of the fact that Arthur had been the one to originally kill Freya, and that it was because of this everything else had happened. But he had never told the king the true events of that fateful night, so it wasn't fair to treat Arthur in such a manner. On top of this, Merlin blamed himself more than anything else, and Arthur's slightly annoying behavior hadn't done anything to raise his spirits. But when his master laid his soul out like this-in a fashion that almost never happened-Merlin couldn't ignore it. Besides, he had even blatantly apologized for being a prat! That never happened. Ever. So Merlin decided that he owed Arthur somewhat of an explanation.

"Arthur," Merlin began quietly, his head still hurt slightly but at least he wasn't nauseous or dizzy anymore, "You're a great man. You will be-you are-the best king that Camelot has ever-and will ever-know. Sure you were a prat at the beginning, but I didn't make you to be a better man. You changed on your own into that great warrior that's always resided in your heart. And I'm sorry that I've been acting a bit strangely lately-I guess I sort of owe you an explanation for that, eh?"

Merlin inserted a weak smile here before continuing on, "It's not your fault. I promise I forgave you a long time ago, but the stress of this quest has been wearing me thin. I really don't want to go into much detail about everything. But just know that Freya's a very special person to me. Very special. I've just been so worried about her that I guess I kind of channeled my frustration into a colder exterior. So I'm sorry too."

The tone of Merlin's voice sounded like he was done with what he had to say, and he fell silent again.

The apology and clarification of Merlin's attitude was a good start for Arthur, but it wasn't enough. The part about something not being his fault-forgiveness-there had to be more to it. Although he wanted to accept Merlin's wish to let the matter drop, he just couldn't. He had to know.

"Merlin, I know that you don't want to talk about what happened, but that's the root of all this-this frustration for me. I don't know how to fix our friendship without knowing what I've done to ruin it in the first place," Arthur said.

His tone was pleading, a rare sound for Merlin, and although he really didn't feel like going into the details of Freya's murder, he realized that Arthur needed it. Heck, maybe even he needed it to move on and make the rest of their journey a smoother one than it had been so far. After all, he never exactly confided in anyone what happened that night. And although he would leave out his details about magic, the emotions behind it might be satisfactory enough to heal both their wounds.

"Okay, here it goes…" Merlin started, and he began to tell Arthur a tale about a beautiful druid girl who was rescued by a big-eared manservant to the then-prince.

….

She was back in the stupid lake. She may've been the Lady over the waters, but that didn't mean she enjoyed her power. She had been granted the privilege of being guardian over The Lake which guarded the gates to Avalon. Yet she could feel no pride, no joy in her occupation because it was also her prison. She was unable to leave the lake. Forbidden from seeing her true love, Merlin, forevermore. How could someone take pleasure in being separated from their heart? Their other half which makes them whole? But she tolerated it. She knew that if she was still in the land of the living, however fragile that connection was, she had a chance of seeing him again. So she waited. And waited. Until finally her wish had come true, albeit in an unusual way. They had chatted through their dreams, but in a more realistic way than she ever imagined. 'Perhaps it is because I'm dying,' Freya thought ruefully.

The unnaturally strong feeling of realism was there for a reason. It was because it was real. They were communicating through the land of the unconscious. However, while Merlin disappeared from the meadow when he woke up, she remained. She was incapable of leaving because she was never conscious.

The past few months had passed by in a dull blur. The lake in this unconscious realm had been her home since she had been cast out of The Lake in the real world. And nothing changed in the land she occupied now. She realized that she had only remained alive by those bushes that Arthur and Gwen had found her by due to her lingering magic from being the Lady of the Lake. 'Well, ex-Lady,' she corrected herself again, since the sidhe had threw her out of the lake once her task of delivering Arthur's sword had been completed.

However, she knew that she would have to die sooner or later. A life for a life was the rule the old religion declared if she was to keep on breathing. That meant that a life of equal value had to die in her place, and Freya was not one for living with that on her conscious forever-she was too compassionate.

Yet-and here was where she always seemed to break down-if she died without seeing Merlin one last time she thought that she would go insane. She would die a second death of simple heartbreak. Perhaps it was this deep seeded wish, created out of love, which enabled him to visit her. Of course, it wasn't until she knew in her heart that her time was fast approaching-the magic wouldn't sustain her for much longer-when he showed up.

He had looked utterly shocked to see her the first time, and she joyfully ran to him. She relished the feeling of being in his arms one last time before he vanished. 'Woke up,' Freya bitterly corrected herself. She wished that she could do the same, to be with Merlin for real with the living, support him through all of his problems in life, without making someone else die in her place.

However, after his visit she soon realized that she was unable to wander about where she pleased. Before he had came, she had been stuck in the lake, but she hadn't minded. She could laze about underneath the surface, or on it as she pleased, and felt no strong desire to go anywhere else. After all, despite her resentment for the lake there was no denying that it was her home at the same time.

But now, after he vanished she felt an inexplicable pull to the water, and she couldn't fight it try as she might. Soon, she was a prisoner once more. She tried desperately to go to the meadow so she could wait for Merlin there, but it was to no avail. Gloomily, she resigned herself back to her confines, and sunk below the surface to stew in her thoughts.

As the time drew closer to when she thought Merlin might appear again, however, Freya noticed that there was something different. She rose to the surface of the lake, but it wouldn't budge. She pushed against the water with all of her might, but instead it transformed into a clear, unbreakable wall. She looked around in horror as she took in the change in the weather, and then the lanky figure she would recognize anywhere-Merlin.

He stood on the shore, confused for a few moments before running towards the lake-towards her. But he was thrown back by an unknown force twice before he was admitted. Then, he was rooted to the spot. She could feel it, feel his touch on the outskirts of her waters, but she couldn't speak to him, get him to understand that she was there.

That was when, suddenly, a strong force, the same power Freya suspected had initially repelled Merlin away, gripped her from behind and attempted to drag her to the watery depths of the lake.

A type of panic gripped her entire essence as she realized this. She couldn't get Merlin to notice her, and here she was, going down, down, down towards who-knows-what and she wasn't able to fight it.

"MERLIN!" she shouted, struggling with all of her might against both the surface of the lake and the powerful, strong pull.

She shouted his name frantically, over and over again in hopes that he would understand when finally, suddenly, he did. As their eyes met, she tried to convey her last, most important sentiment that she loved him. And as she sent this message to her, he seemed to respond back with a promise of rescue.

But she could never be sure that was what truly happened, because it was at that moment he vanished, and so did she as her strength finally gave-in against the relentless pull.

….

Arthur finally understood once Merlin had reached the end of his tale. He finally got why Merlin had avoided answering his questions so much as well. He had killed his true love. Arthur felt sick to his stomach that he was the one responsible for so much pain. He couldn't even imagine forgiving Merlin if he had killed Guinevere. Yet here Merlin was, fully ready to forgive, and had forgiven, a man who had inflicted pain in the worst possible way.

As he told his story, Arthur noticed Merlin perk up ever so slightly. It sounded like Merlin had never told a single soul about this pain he had felt, experienced, and it was eating him up inside. So Arthur was happy to be the first one to listen.

It had been hard for both of them at parts, but by the end of the saga, Arthur knew it had been good for both of them. It was a first step each of them had taken to heal their wounds.

…

Guinevere had monitored Freya well into the night. After her initial outbursts she had gone deathly quiet. However, she hadn't stopped twitching, ever so subtly since then. Gwen was beginning to feel ragged with exhaustion, but she felt a strong duty to watch over the girl. She had begun to unconsciously root for her, for her victory over death.

….

After they had both re-established their relationship, the terms by which each man stood, Arthur and Merlin set off again.

They had reached the point where the sea was rumored to be located soon enough. It was a fairly uneventful journey, and things had settled back to normal-whatever that may be for the two of them. When they had found the tell-tale tree which served as a landmark for the location, Merlin decided that they should split up to cover more ground. Arthur couldn't help but agree. Since they had confronted each other about their problems, their easy friendship seemed to be restored, and he was eager to keep it that way.

Arthur couldn't believe how lucky he was to have a friend like Merlin. He honestly didn't believe that he deserved his forgiveness, his acceptance of his "prattish behavior", as the raven-haired man appropriately dubbed it. It was like this sense of relief had washed over him while simultaneously he promised himself to do better, be a better friend. Merlin deserved one.

While he contemplated these things in his heart, Arthur failed to notice the faint sound of waves in the background. It sounded like they gently hit a shoreline not too far away. In fact, he was so wrapped up in this sense of forgiveness, this undeserved favor that Merlin bestowed upon him that he didn't realize he had stumbled upon it until he already had.

There, right before his eyes, he knew he had done it. He had found the Sea of Grace.