It's been bang on a year, so Merry Chirstmas everyone.

Chapter 14 - The Lady of the Lake

"Freya?" he asked, stupefied.

"Ah, Miss Bastet, could you stay behind for a moment please?"

Freya nodded, afterall, she had been expecting this conversation as soon as she saw Nimueh at the head table.

She waved off Gwaine, and smiled as she watched him all but tackle Merlin in a hug on their way out, gushing about how impressive his magic had been.

Then she and Nimueh lingered for a moment in the echoes of her classmates rushing off, waiting to be sure there was no one left to overhear. The other woman smiled at her sharply, before executing a perfect curtsy, though one rather out of fashion.

"It is an honour, My Lady," Nimueh said, eyes gleaming.

Freya smiled regally, returning her greeting with a shallow nod. "The honour is mine, Priestess. I am glad to see you making the most of your second chance."

"Were you behind it then? The hand wielding the will of Mother Magic?" Her tone was casual, conversational even, but Freya saw the burning curiosity behind those eyes.

"There is only one among us with the power to wield the magic of the Triple Goddess herself, and we both know that is not me," Freya reminded her.

"And yet I can feel you carrying the power of the Old Religion. How is it that you retain your power when none else but Emrys managed to keep theirs?"

"Do not go seeking power, Nimueh," she warned. "It was that which doomed us all to Uther's purge."

"Do not blame me for that madman's actions!" she hissed. "I had no way of knowing what he'd do! The entire future was clouded! I thought without an heir Camelot would be doomed to civil war once Uther passed. How was I to know that Uther's revenge would be so much worse for our people?"

"Your actions were not for the benefit of Camelot, do not lie to me, Priestess!" Freya scolded her. "Your only wish was for more power - status - in Camelot's court."

"I wanted to help my friends," she snapped, glaring angrily at the 'young' girl. "Ygraine was my friend." She sighed, tiredly. "I care not for your accusations. I am here, paying my penance. I am guiding Emrys, as I should have the first time around. Tell me, is that the Goddess's wish?"

"I cannot speak on the will of the Goddess," Freya said plainly. "What of your own wishes? Do you seek to help Emrys or to use him? You would not be the first to try and manipulate under the guise of guidance, and I will not let Merlin be hurt like that again."

Nimueh laughed then, suddenly. It was jarring, seeing what should be such a joyful act twisted into something bitter. But it suited her. "You love him," she said, shaking her head. "Oh you poor, foolish child."

Freya scoffed. "I'm hardly a child, no matter my appearance."

"And yet you wear the face of a love-sick girl," Nimueh mocked.

"I liked you more when you were pretending to respect me."

"And I respected you more when I thought you were capable of answering my questions."

Frey rolled her eyes. "You were a High Priestess of the Old Religion, you know that the kind of answers you're looking for don't come that easily."

Nimueh hummed, and Freya decided to take that for her agreement. "You should be careful around him," Nimueh said. "Emrys, that is. I don't think you should get too close. You're different from the rest of us, you chose to be here. You can't afford to get in the way of destiny," she warned.

A sad smile formed on Freya's face. "Don't worry, I've already learned that lesson," She acknowledged. She knew now, she never should have agreed to Merlin's plan to run away together. She was a distraction from destiny, and she paid the price.

"I'd stay away from Morgana too," Nimueh added. "She remembers who she is, and soon she'll become better and better at sensing the Old Magic, even if she cannot wield it. If she senses it within you you'll have to explain yourself to her."

Freya shook her head. "Morgana barely knows I exist. She never knew me. And my name, unlike yours, is not one of legend. They even confuse you for me sometimes, naming you as the Lady of the Lake," she huffed. "No, Morgana won't notice anything about me. The only Old Magic I wield is enough to keep me alive outside of Avalon, hardly enough to draw her attention, especially when standing next to Emrys himself."

"Oh, no need to be so impersonal," she smirked. "Please tell me all about your Merlin."

Freya sighed. "I loved him and he might have loved me, once. And then I died. There's nothing more to say."

"Freya?" he asked, stupefied.

Merlin turned around wildly, expecting to see Arthur continuing his descent, but no. Everyone else was still frozen. Everyone except Merlin and . . . Freya. "I don't understand, how -?"

She smiled softly, taking his hand in hers. "This is impressive even for you, you know?" she said kindly, looking around with a small smile on her face. "Hmm, I don't think you were this young the first time when you started to play with time."

"The first time?" he repeated, confused. "No, nevermind! Freya, you have to help me with Arthur, I don't know how long until this stops working! What if everyone's unfreezing one at a time?!" What if Freya was just the start, what if Arthur was next?

But his friend just giggled, completely at ease despite the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, I should have known," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Of course you would start achieving impossible things far sooner having met Arthur so much younger than you did last time. And you don't need to worry about him falling, none of this will restart until you want it to, Merlin."

"Freya, I don't understand what's going on." Even the Headmaster couldn't get through Merlin's magic, so how was Freya immune to it? And why did she seem to know so much more about what was going on than he did. Don't get him wrong, he was comforted by the fact that Arthur apparently wouldn't be going anywhere until Merlin had a sure-fire way to save him, but he didn't understand how Freya could be so certain of it. "How are you awake when no one else is?"

"Oh, Merlin," she said sympathetically, squeezing his hands gently. "I don't think I can tell you just yet, not without making everything far more complicated than it should be."

. . . what did that mean? "Are you special like me?" he asked, confused. "Do you have magic of the Old Religion too?"

"Sort of," she said, smiling awkwardly, the sort of smile an adult gives a small child when they're trying to avoid telling them Father Christmas isn't real. It was the sort of smile that was a lie or a half-truth made from a place of kindness. But Merlin didn't want any lies. He wanted the truth, and he wanted help in saving Arthur.

"I am made of the Old Religion, but I cannot wield it in this form," she replied cryptically. "It has given me the power to be here today, but I no longer have the power to draw on it for spells or incantations like you do."

"What does that mean?"

"If I tell you any more, it means that you're going to have to forget this, Merlin," she said seriously. "You're so young still, you aren't ready to remember. It almost destroyed Morgana to have learnt so soon," she warned him.

"You're behind what made Morgana so distant for all those weeks?" he asked accusatorially, snatching his hands away from her. That seemed so unlike the Freya he thought he knew. And yet, here she was threatening to take his memory away. Perhaps he had never known her at all?

"No, of course not," she cried. "Morgana has just been coming to terms with some very difficult things. Things I am trying to spare you from right now."

He looked at her warily, not quite sure he could believe her. She sounded so reasonable, so convincing. But Merlin had to remind himself that she was clearly keeping things from him. She was powerful enough to break through his magic, and she seemed to think she was powerful enough to take his memories away from him. A normal second year couldn't do that. He couldn't trust her.

She started shaking her head, looking dismayed. "I fear I've already said too much - Nimueh warned me to be careful around you." She was involved too? "Oh, Merlin, I am sorry." . . . And she sounded sorry too, maybe that was the worst part. She still seemed so genuine and sincere. She still seemed like his Freya. But he had never thought the friend he made would have betrayed him like this. He had thought he had found good people at Hogwarts, people he could trust. "I think I'm going to have to erase this," she said regretfully.

He jerked away from her, already pulling his magic up to defend himself. But for whatever reason, it felt like attempting to grab fistfulls of sand, it just kept slipping through his fingers. Perhaps he was using so much magic to maintain the time spell that he didn't have enough spare to protect himself?

"Stay away from me!" he warned anyway, his hands raised as if about to perform a spell, hoping that the threat of his magic would be enough to dissuade her. He started pushing himself through the stands of frozen people, moving backwards away from Freya.

She simply looked back at him as though he were breaking her heart.

Once upon a time, Freya had had nightmares about a kind hearted boy learning the truth about her and being terrified of her. She had never imagined it quite like this though.

It had always been because she was a beast, a monster who could not help but to kill. A penance that only her death had been able to take away, to free her from.

It was painful now, watching the man she once loved, however much of a boy he currently was, fleeing from her in fear.

"Merlin, please, please, believe me when I say that I am your friend, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to help you avoid the hurt," she pleaded with him as he backed away from her, never turning his back towards her, just pushing backwards through the throngs of unmoving people.

"No!" he shouted, shaking his head wildly. "You're a liar, I don't trust you."

She sighed, accepting defeat. No matter how painful it was for her, she was only making things worse for Merlin. She'd make sure he forgot this for now, tucking it away with his other memories from their life Before, but she wouldn't traumatise him more than she needed to.

"Just let me help you with Arthur," she offered, knowing Merlin, as she had for so many years, that this was his weak point. If anyone, no matter who they were or what they had done, offered to help Arthur Pendragon, then Merlin would hear them out.

She was proven right as he froze, just before he reached the stairs leading down from the stands.

"We both know you can save him but you don't know how, do you?" she prodded. "I can help you. I can help you get him to safety, and then unfreeze everything. You don't have to do this on your own."

She could still see the hesitance on his face.

"I'll explain everything, I promise," she told him, knowing that anything she told him here would be wiped away when time began again. She didn't like this. It felt like manipulation, and she hated doing that to someone who had only ever shown her kindness, who had taught her what it felt like to be loved.

"Give me your wand first," he demanded, and she couldn't help but smile sadly. She was glad he was wary, it would serve him well for the threats to come, she just wished it wasn't against her.

"Here," she said, moving slowly. "I'll put it on the floor, and you can summon it." He watched her carefully as she pulled her wand from the sleeve of her robes and placed it at her feet. She even kicked it slightly to roll in his direction."

Merlin's eyes flashed gold and her wand was in his hands. It really was just as easy as breathing for him. He was remarkable. She had missed him so much.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked, almost panicked.

"What?" she said, confused. She wasn't doing anything, she couldn't, she had given him her wand.

"You're crying."

Oh.

Her hand reached up, and sure enough, her cheek was damp. "Sorry," she told him, not quite embarrassed, but regretful. He didn't need to see her grief for her first and only love. He was just a little boy, he wasn't her Merlin. Not yet.

"Tell me how you're here," he said. He had lost the urgency and fear from before. He always had been compassionate. But she supposed she could understand how it might be hard to stay mad at the sight of a crying twelve year old, even if she really wasn't at all.

"Don't you want to help Arthur first?" she asked hopefully.

He smiled ruefully. "You're just trying to stall me."

"I am," she agreed, before sighing and trying to come up with the best way to explain immortality to a little boy. "Beings like you and I, we exist outside of the confines of time," she said carefully. "You stopped time in place, but we live beyond it. Or, at least we're meant to," she added slightly bitterly.

"What does that mean?" he asked incredulously.

"It means you left me," she said, unable to contain herself. She had been pushing aside her grief and anger for centuries. And here was Merlin, the source of it all, asking her about how she was here, when they were once meant to live together forever.

"You made me into this, Merlin. I was just a druid girl, but you made me what I am now. And I was fine to wait for you to finish your destiny. I wanted nothing but the best for you and Arthur, but when his time came you couldn't move on. You wouldn't. And so you found a way to follow him. And you didn't even think twice about the fact that it meant leaving me behind!" she cried.

And then she looked at the shell-shocked face of a little boy who didn't know what on earth she was talking about. Because this was not her Merlin. Her Merlin had abandoned her because he couldn't bear to live a life without Arthur Pendragon in it.

"I loved you," she said softly, knowing she had lost her chance to say it to her own Merlin. "I loved you, and I thought you loved me, but you didn't. You loved him. And so when you came back I used what little power I had left to be here. I made myself into this, so that I could help you. Because more than anything I just want you to be happy, Merlin. In all the years I knew you, you were so very rarely happy. But whenever you were, it was with him. I never understood until it was too late, but he has always been what made you the happiest. So, let me help you save Arthur Pendragon."

Now it was his turn to cry, fat, silent tears running down his cheeks. Poor boy probably didn't even understand why. There was a whole host of memories locked away in his head, making him cry right now, but that wasn't what Freya wanted. She wanted Merlin to be happy.

"I'm sorry," he told her. And it was so genuine that it made her heart ache. "I still don't really understand, but I know I hurt you and I'm sorry, Freya."

She smiled sadly at him. "Let me help you forget this, Merlin. Don't you see this is the tip of the iceberg." He shook his head, but she pressed on. "If we keep pushing then you'll force the memories through, and you're not ready yet, surely you can see that now."

"I don't even know what memories you're talking about!" he said frantically.

'You watched him die," she said, as gently as she could. "Look at how afraid you are that something will happen to him. Do you really want the memories of him dying in your arms?"

He took a few moments, but eventually he shook his head, tears streaming as he did so. "You won't let it happen this time? You'll help me save him."

"I'll help you save them all this time, I promise."

Merlin nodded, swiping at his eyes, trying to pull himself together. "What do we do?" he asked, determination coming back full force.

He was so strong. He was still so young, but already so strong. He was going to survive it this time, Freya swore to herself. She would make sure he was strong enough to see his destiny to its fruition and he would not need to leave her behind again.

She moved towards him slowly, silently relieved that he was no longer trying to move away from her, no longer looking at her with fear and mistrust. Freya took his hands gently. "It's simple, I promise," she said reassuringly.

He nodded, gripping her hands tighter, determination sinking into his features. "I can do this," he said firmly.

"You just need to lower him gently. Like a levitation spell."

He flushed red, "It's that easy?" he asked, embarrassed. "Just Wingardium Leviosa?"

"Not quite," she told him. "Magic that weak won't get through your first spell. You remember what it was like when the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall tried to counteract your magic - modern magic just isn't strong enough to break through that of the Old Religion. Your spell freezing everything in time will overpower it, the spell would only fly from your wand after everything restarted."

"But . . . Professor Nimueh has only taught me the shield spell. I don't know anything that will break through this," he said, panic starting to rise in his voice once more.

She just shook her head fondly. "That's what I'm here for, silly." Merlin had always been terrible at accepting help. "I know the spell you need. It's similar to what I saw you practising on the train, remember? You were floating Aithusa around." He nodded. "Just imagine the same thing, but with Arthur, just lower him slowly to the ground. Using the incantation should be enough to break through the original spell."

"How? Surely a spell to stop time is stronger than a levitation spell?"

"It doesn't quite work like that. Sometimes it's about the stronger spell, sometimes it's about the strength of the caster, but this time it's about intention. You did this through instinct. Your sheer will is what's holding this together. Using an incantation will guide your magic. It wants to help you, you just need to let it know how. This is all your magic, so it's not about overpowering anything, it's about letting both spells work together."

"Okay," he said, nodding nervously. "What's the spell?"

"Astyrung slúpan," she said slowly, feeling the power radiate from the words. She put no magic behind them, but still, there was something ancient and resonant about them that comforted her. She didn't have any power to spare to wield such magic anymore. All the power she had remaining was fueling the spell that kept her here, alive, as a twelve year old girl. She returned to Avalon throughout the summer, and whenever she could over the shorter school breaks, to replenish her power and see to her duties and the Lady of the Lake, but she had no magic to spare to aid him - only her words.

"Astyrung slúpan," he repeated, feeling out the words. The foreign sounds came easily to him in a way they never would for anyone truly born of this time. A mix of old instinct and destiny twining together, allowing the words to flow from Merlin as naturally as breathing. He was, after all, born for this.

He exhaled slowly, an attempt at releasing his nerves, she was sure. "You can do this," she whispered to him.

"Arthur will land safely?" he asked.

"I promise," she told him.

"And then what? How do I get everyone to unfreeze?" She could hear his nerves in the shake of his voice, and was reminded, once again, of how painfully young he was.

"You just have to let it go," she reassured him, squeezing his hand. "Knowing you, it will happen naturally. Once you see Arthur is safe, your magic will relax, and it will let everything go."

". . . and you make me forget?" Frey couldn't tell if he sounded hopeful or disappointed. Perhaps a little of both.

She shook her head. "You'll make yourself forget," she told him. "It's your own magic holding your memories back, trying to protect you. I think if time was moving we'd have to obliviate you, but instead your magic can take over, you won't feel like you're missing any time because time has been stood still."

"So I won't remember that I saved him?" he asked.

Freya laughed. "Merlin, to everyone else it will look like something impossible happened. Arthur teleporting to the ground in an instant, and you moving to here from where you stood next to Morgana and Harry. I think everyone will know that Merlin Emrys is always the one behind impossible things."

He nodded. "Okay, I think I'm ready."

Freya smiled, "Of course you are." It was a bitter sweet smile.

She started walking back to her place in the stands, watching from afar, as she always had done, as Merlin performed the impossible. Seeing him, standing there alone, maintaining incredible magic without breaking a sweat, saddened her. He should not have to bear this burden alone - and he wasn't, not truly. But Merlin could never know that.

"Astyrung slúpan," she heard. She closed her eyes, and prepared herself for chaos.