Yesterday, March 21, 2018, was my eight-year writing anniversary. I've had this story written for over four years now. I'm honestly surprised I hadn't posted it sooner. Enjoy!

"The Story of the Lady of the Lake"

"Should I give her the red ones or the white ones?" Gwaine asked, shoving wildflowers under Arthur's nose, expectantly waiting for an answer. Arthur suppressed the urge to sneeze and batted Gwaine's hands away.

"Neither! Lady Freya is a guest of the court and you shall treat her with respect, Sir Gwaine." Arthur muttered irritably. Gwaine frowned.

"Oh come on Princess, the Lady traveled here on moment's notice because you finally decided to wear your man trousers and create a peace treaty with the druids. The least I could do is show her a little 'Camelot hospitality,'" Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows and flipped his hair.

"You mean you were about to flirt with her," Arthur snorted. "I'd rather not lose an alliance because of your lecherous advances, Gwaine."

"Me? Lecherous? Never!" Gwaine gasped in shock. Arthur rolled his eyes and gratefully claimed his sword when George finally reappeared with it. He had a sneaking suspicion that the man polished it on the stairs down. At least Merlin would have gotten the sword down faster– polished or not.

Arthur frowned; he kept forgetting Merlin wasn't around. A horrible illness was killing children in the countryside. Gaius left almost three weeks ago to prevent the outbreak from reaching Camelot, but the old physician wasn't quick enough. The illness reached Camelot's walls a week later. Merlin was currently treating children in the lower town.

Gwaine momentarily gave up on wooing Lady Freya and threw himself into a spar against with the King. Said King was currently preoccupied with the mysterious, druid ambassador, the Lady Freya.

She sat in a shaded corner of the corner of the training grounds; half the knights were paying more attention to her then their training. Arthur couldn't blame them; she was beautiful. She was clothed in a shimmery white gown, tightly wound around her narrow waist with her shoulders left bare. There was a coronet of ivy and gold perched on her head and her long, raven-black hair hung freely at her waist. She had a small heart-shaped face and blushing cheeks made more prominent by her pale porcelain skin.

When she first appeared in his court, he wondered if the druids sent the right delegate. After all, Freya was a rather shy, demure lady. As Gwaine had said, the peace treaty with druids was something Arthur had done on a whim. Guinevere, his beautiful wife of three years, mentioned that Elyan was having nightmares. Three years ago around the same time, Elyan unknowingly disturbed a druid shrine and got possessed by a young druid boy drowned during the purge. Both Elyan and Arthur had nearly lost their lives that day.

The druid child only released Elyan from his possession when Arthur promised he'd make peace with the druids. And he kept his promise. For the past three years, no druid tribe had been persecuted or chased out of Camelot's walls. Even Camelot's citizens were used to the presence of druid merchants in the market.

Elyan's nightmares had been the sign that Arthur needed. The druids deserved more than the promise of no longer being hunted; they deserved protection and a King to depend upon. Arthur voiced these thoughts to his wife, and she agreed wholeheartedly. Less than twenty-four hours later, the druids had sent an ambassador: the Lady Freya.

At first, he'd been unsure how to speak to her and could tell she was just as anxious with him. But as they both got more comfortable, Lady Freya's regality and knowledge in diplomacy shone through. He wished Guinevere could have met her, but his wife was checking up on Merlin's progress in the company of Sir Mordred and Sir Leon. In fact, they were due any moment now.

"So what is the Lady doing on the training grounds?" Gwaine grunted, pulling his sword up at the last minute and narrowly avoiding Excalibur skimming his cheek. Arthur slowed his movements (He might have forgotten this was a casual spar).

"She said she wanted to see more of Camelot." Arthur huffed a reply.

"And you decide that 'showing Camelot' is watching a bunch of knights bash each other with blunt swords?" Gwaine snorted in response.

"Careful Gwaine, you're starting to sound like Merlin," Arthur rolled his eyes and Gwaine proceeded to grin in Merlin-like fashion.

"Sounds like someone's missing Merlin," Gwaine grinned widely and winked at the King. Arthur kicked the man's legs from under him and had Gwaine at his mercy in three seconds flat.

"I admit nothing,"

"Right..." Gwaine drew out teasingly. Arthur sighed and stretched his hand out to his exasperating friend. Gwaine was just about rivaling Merlin in his insolence, but then again, the Hibernian knight could only try. Arthur ordered George to retrieve their water skins, but to his surprise, it was Guinevere's delicate hands that delivered them.

"Guinevere," Arthur smiled and leaned in for a kiss. "Welcome back." He whispered quietly. Gwen chuckled lightly and returned the kiss.

"I was only gone for a day, Arthur. You can't have missed me that much," Gwen told him.

"It's because Merlin isn't around." Percival piped from the other end of the training grounds. He jogged over to the Queen and bowed respectfully. Arthur flushed profusely and ignored Gwaine patting Percival's back appreciatively. He cleared his throat and turned to Sir Leon.

"Sir Leon, how's that idiot doing?" Arthur asked indignantly. Leon's lips twitched; his face remained impassive as he gave his report. He was doing well. If Merlin was lucky, he would return sometime tomorrow or the day after. "And where is Sir Mordred?" Arthur could hardly contain the fondness in his voice. Mordred was, after all, the greatest swordsmen next to Arthur and Gwaine. Arthur still remembered being amazed at how quickly Mordred had absorbed all his teachings.

"Fine; he's bringing the crossbows with Elyan." Leon then turned to Guinevere. "My lady, perhaps you should retire inside?"

"I'm fine here, Sir Leon, thank you," she looked to Arthur's eyes. "Would it be alright if I watched for a little?" She asked earnestly. Arthur chuckled and nodded his head. He could tell Guinevere didn't enjoy the idea of being cooped up in the castle.

She beamed at her husband, and then whispered in his ears "Merlin's very proud of you." Arthur blanched and turned red once more.

"Why does everyone assume that I'm missing my manservant?" He groaned in frustration.

"Because you two have never been separated this long." She laughed. Arthur could hear his knights "giggling" and whispering something that sounded suspiciously like "the other wife." Arthur rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Guinevere's head.

"My lord, Guinevere," Elyan, with Mordred in tow, entered the training grounds with their arms full of crossbows and nodded a greeting to Arthur and Gwen.

"Ah Mordred, I heard your patrol was eventful," Arthur reached over to clap the young knight's back.

"Yes my lord, I learned a lot from Sir Leon. I was also able to-" Mordred began amiably, but when his gaze flickered beyond Arthur, he froze, the words still lingering on his tongue. "L-lady Freya..." Mordred breathed, stunned. Arthur raised his eyes questioningly at the young knight. He glanced at the Lady Freya and back at Mordred.

"You know of her?"

Mordred blushed. "I-I met her when I was traveling with the druids many years ago." He replied softly. Gwaine snickered and pulled Mordred into a headlock

"Aw, Sir Mordred, do you have a crush on the Lady Freya?" Gwaine teased, ruffling the young knight's unruly brown hair. Mordred went completely red.

"I'd say he's utterly besotted," Percival chipped in.

"It would seem our Mordred is finally becoming a man," Leon couldn't help but add in. Mordred blushed harder under Gwaine's grip.

"Boys, don't tease Mordred. It isn't every day a man reunites with his first love." Guinevere giggled.

"M-my Lady," Mordred muttered embarrassedly. Arthur chuckled and reached over to ruffle Mordred's hair (A gesture he, now that he thought about it, had never done with anyone but Merlin. No! Stop! You do not miss him!).

"What are you waiting for? Go talk to her." Arthur playfully shoved.

"S-she's completely out of my league!"

"Mordred," Guinevere began in that soft motherly tone she used to reprimand the knights when they needed it. "I was a serving maid, and Arthur the Prince. If we managed then so can you. Now have some faith and go talk to her."

"Be a man Mordred!" Gwaine shoved the boy forward. Mordred stumbled, took a few steps forward and froze. Lady Freya hadn't even noticed him. She was talking to another servant attending on the training grounds. Mordred's eyes sunk sadly, and the teasing atmosphere dissipated.

"I can't," he whispered and turned back around quietly. He kept his eyes on the ground as Arthur, Percival, Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Guinevere shot him questioning looks. "I can't compete with the one who holds the Lady's heart."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Who is he?"

"I don't know." Mordred finally looked up; his eyes revealed remorse and reverence all at once. "No one knows who he is but every druid child has heard their story. The story of how the cursed druid became the Lady of the Lake."

Guinevere pulled away from Arthur and gently cupped Mordred's cheek; she waited for Mordred to look at her. When Mordred finally raised his head, he was smiling, it was small and forced, but it was a smile nonetheless. Arthur knew Mordred was going to be fine.

"Will you tell us the story?" Guinevere asked softly. Mordred nodded and kissed Queen Guinevere's hand.

"It's a rather long story."

"We have time...right Arthur?" Guinevere asked in her no-nonsense tone.

"But training-" Arthur broke off in a grunt and stared remorsefully at the foot Guinevere just stepped on. He tried not to let his pain show but his knights were already snickering at him. Guinevere glanced at Mordred expectantly. Mordred took a deep breath and began his long, long tale.

"Long before she was Lady Freya of the Lake of Avalon, she was just Freya the druid girl. Freya's druid tribe was unique, one of the only druids tribes in Albion to have a village. Her tribe was gifted with healing abilities and many traveled from distant lands to seek out their abilities. And from a young age, the Lady's healing abilities were extraordinary.

"As Freya's fame grew, the secrecy of the village faded and eventually they were discovered by the king. The king dispatched a small army of knights to burn her village down. By the time the druids discovered the king's order, the knights had already reached the village. Lady Freya's father, the chieftain, knew he had to save her no matter what. Being the wise man he was, he predicted she had some greater purpose for her extraordinary gifts. So he threw her into the river and let her be swept away by its currents. The Lady Freya was the only druid to survive the massacre of the greatest healing tribe.

"How Lady Freya survived the current we would never know, it was said that she was blessed by the white goddess herself. She washed up on the shores of a foreign land, alone, cold, and devastated. She was only fifteen summers at the time. Lady Freya blamed herself for her parents' death and the destruction of her village. She swore to never use her healing abilities ever again."

Mordred was cut off by gasps of shock, and he saw sympathetic eyes all around. Arthur was at a loss. It was a terrible story, a horrible fate for a child so young to endure, but the talk of magic made him squirm a bit (He suspected that Lady Freya might have magic). The knights and Arthur snuck glances at the Lady Freya, amazed at her strength for surviving such an ordeal.

"She shouldn't blame herself," Guinevere murmured sympathetically. "It is the capricious King who's at fault." Mordred clenched his fists. He wanted to snap that it had been the same with his people. The druids, not just the Lady Freya's tribe, had all been peaceful people (save for the few that choose the path of darkness). And yet King Uther hunted his people and slaughtered them in cold blood.

He saw Arthur looking at him with shame and guilt-stricken eyes. Mordred managed to respond with a tiny smile, showing he bared no ill will toward the King. No, Mordred didn't blame Arthur for what he'd done in the past. Arthur was only following Uther's orders. He was a far better man now. Sorcerers were no longer hunted unless they were a threat to Camelot, and the druids were no longer persecuted. If the delegations with the Lady Freya were successful, the druids and Camelot would become allies. Mordred took a deep breath and continued his story, a gentle, endearing smile settled on his face. His thoughts drifted to the Lady Freya as he spoke:

"For two years, she managed to survive on her own, wandering from druid tribe to druid tribe. But one day, a sickly sorcerer cornered her and demanded that she heal him. But Freya had sworn to never heal again. The sorcerer, Ivan was his name I believe, was furious. He forced himself on the Lady and tried to coerce her into using her abilities.

"The Lady panicked; her latent mag– abilities exploded out of her and instantly killed the sorcerer. She was free of Ivan's grip, but it wasn't Ivan who she had to fear. His mother was a powerful witch. When she found out about her son's death, the witch hunted Freya down and with her dying breath, she cursed her.

'You enjoying killing so much, don't you dearie, well now you can kill every day! At the stroke of midnight, you will be taken over by a beast and you will be cursed to kill for as long as you live!'"

Guinevere gasped and covered her mouth; her eyes flickered back to the Lady in fright. Arthur glared and drew his sword; he knew he couldn't trust magic!

"Sire wait!" Mordred halted in front of Arthur. "She's not cursed anymore, please just let me finish my story!" He insisted. He looked to Guinevere with pleading eyes, and she seemed to understand his message. Guinevere wrapped her arm around Arthur's biceps.

"Arthur, wait. Let him finish." She pleaded softly. Arthur's eyes flared, an argument ready at the tip of his tongue. But when he saw both Guinevere and Mordred look to him with those expectant expressions, he relented and angrily shoved his sword back into the scabbard. He glared hotly at the Lady Freya.

"Fine." He muttered rather unwillingly. Mordred sighed in relief and looked to the Knights for their permission as well. They were cautious, but Gwaine gave him a small and reluctant nod and Mordred continued the story.

"So Lady Freya had become cursed. She ran to the druids for help, but they couldn't remove the curse. When the moon was at its highest, the Lady transformed into a horrible creature. The beast took over her mind and killed half the druid tribe before she had the sense to run away. She fled from the druids and into the mountains. When the transformation finally wore away, she collapsed and cried for days. The blood of her kin was on her hands; and what was worse, was that the druids didn't blame her for something she had no control over.

"When the news of a cursed druid girl spread around the kingdom, bounty hunters hunted her with a vengeance. She was captured a total of three times, but the hunters who captured her had no idea of her curse and merely tied her up. At midnight she would transform, kill the hunters and wake up covered in their blood.

"So much blood had been shed around the poor druid girl. She'd once been beautiful, kind, and full of life but her curse changed her. Lady Freya lost faith in humanity. She lost faith in the kindness of strangers." Mordred shook his head. He never liked this part of the story.

It was painful to think someone as kind as Lady Freya had once lost faith in people, that she had once been closed, shut-off, and distrusting. His face reddened in anger every time he thought of those twisted bandits who had quite literally taken the light out of her beautiful, beautiful eyes.

Mordred's heart had long since been given to Lady Freya. Their stories were so similar. He'd been happy as a boy, with a mother and father who loved him. Then the king had destroyed his tribe, and finally, Uther had beheaded his father. If it hadn't been for Arthur, Morgana, and Emrys, he might have gone down a path he could never return from. Arthur had saved Mordred from the darkness and now Mordred was forever in debt to the king.

Despite retaining his light, Mordred had been shut off from the world. A bit of recluse. After escaping Camelot, he'd retreated into himself. The only time he'd been happy after that was when he'd seen the Lady Morgana but well...that quest hadn't turned out so well. Even as a child, he'd sensed the darkness in Morgana and been repelled by it. Mordred's magic craved the magic of life, like the magic Emrys possessed. He'd been so lost and confused that he'd nearly made an enemy out of Emrys. It was Lady Freya that saved him from himself.

After his disastrous plan with Alvarr and Lady Morgana, Mordred had stumbled onto Iseldir's tribe. They took him in without question and never once seemed to care about the horrible deeds he'd committed. So he stuck around. That was when he met Lady Freya. She was a priestess-in-training at the time, but she was already a respected leader among the druids. She'd come to Iseldir's tribe to entrust him with safeguarding the Cup of Life. When she wasn't training with the water spirits or healing injured creatures, she would visit Iseldir's tribe. She chatted with the women, helped the men create barriers, and played with the children.

Mordred had been the awkward boy who was no longer a child but not quite a man yet. He kept to himself and he kept his mouth shut. However, Lady Freya had a certain way about her. No one could resist talking to the spirited Lady and Mordred was no exception, he instantly fell for her magic. She would encourage Mordred to play with the other children and teach them magic. She'd sing to the children and squeeze Mordred's hand for comfort. She took care of him, and would always hug him fondly. But he was a child and she was a Lady, Mordred knew Lady Freya had never seen him the way he saw her.

"So...what happened after that? How was she freed from the curse?" Gwaine interrupted Mordred's musings. Percival elbowed the knight in the gut.

"Hush Gwaine, can't you see he's thinking about the Lady Freya," Leon teased and reached over to ruffle Mordred's hair. Gwen frowned.

"Don't tease him, Leon. It's his first love!" She gushed. Arthur groaned next to Guinevere. Mordred just blushed and watched the nobles giggle and chuckle at his expense. But he wasn't ashamed, he truly loved Lady Freya.

"Just finish the story Mordred, my stomach can't handle this lady's gossip." Arthur frowned.

"Don't let Merlin hear you say that, Sire." Percival chuckled.

"Hush, I want to hear the story. The Lady Freya doesn't seem as desolate as you made her out to be Mordred, what changed? What restored her faith?" Elyan asked, pushing the Knights aside. Gwaine and Leon gave Elyan questioning looks. "W-what? Is it a crime to want to hear the end of the story?"

"I've never seen you so completely taken by a story, Elyan," Guinevere murmured, her brother blushed at her comment. "Perhaps you're in love with the Lady Freya as well!" She mused and clapped her hands in delight.

"Guinevere please..." Elyan whined. Arthur frowned and leaned over to whisper into Guinevere's ears.

"Are you trying play matchmaker?"

"Maybe..." she winked in response. Arthur snorted and kissed his wife's forehead.

"A-anyway." Mordred broke in. "One day, she was captured by a bounty hunter who worked for the king. Even though their king despised magic, he allowed the bounty hunter a cage with druid ruins to keep the magic imprisoned. The cage didn't prevent Freya's transformation, it merely kept her beast form sedated.

"I suppose this is where the story really starts. The bounty hunter brought her back to his kingdom. The night before she was to be taken to the king, the bounty hunter stopped at the local tavern and Freya had been left in the cage to starve. She watched the people walk by her, pleading with her eyes, praying for someone to save her. That's when she met him, the servant."

"A servant? Why is he significant to this story?" Gwaine interrupted.

"Because he is the one...the one that made it so that no man could ever win the Lady's hand in marriage. Her only lover." Mordred replied irritably.

"So she fell in love with a servant...where have I heard that story before?" Elyan teased and lightly shoved his sister's shoulder. Guinevere smiled up at her husband, the feeling of falling in love all over again washed over her.

"What happened next, Mordred?" Guinevere asked.

"The moment the servant and Lady Freya met eyes, they'd made a connection. He wanted to talk to her, to reach through the bars and pull her free, but his mentor dragged him away. Lady Freya was crushed when her one hope of salvation seemed to leave her. But later in the night when she'd just about fallen asleep, she heard rattling and woke with a startle. It was the servant who had stared at her.

"'Don't worry, I'm here to help you,' The servant told her. But Freya was hesitant. She couldn't bring herself to trust this man even if she'd felt a sort of connection with him. The servant somehow managed to pick the lock to her cage and offered her his hand.

"'Please, we need to leave now. Give me your hand.' And just like that, the Lady Freya gave him her hand. The servant pulled her out of the cage. They tried to sneak away, but the bounty hunter caught them outside the tavern. So the servant knocked the bounty hunter out, and they ran. They managed to find salvage under the citadel.

"The Lady Freya then asked the servant, 'Why save me? Why would you risk your life for me?' and the servant responded, 'Because no one deserves that fate.' The servant returned to his mentor and his prince's side- he also worked as the Prince's manservant. But he didn't leave Freya alone for long when he had the chance he would sneak whatever food he could from his prince and take it to the Lady. They talked for hours.

"The servant told Freya stories about all the adventures he and his prince shared. They were best friends you see-" Mordred chuckled, and all eyes turned to Arthur.

"What?" Arthur asked flatly.

"Well Sire, it sounds a bit like you and Merlin," Leon said thoughtfully. Arthur glared.

"I see no such relation,"

"You're not fooling anyone Princess."

"Just go on with the story..." Arthur gave up.

"The servant told Freya all about his adventures with his prince, of how they slayed mythical beasts, saved peasants, fought bandits, and survived the worst of lucks. The servant complained and prattled about his prince, but Freya could see that he cared very deeply for him. The deep bond of friendship between the servant and his prince brought a smile to Freya's face. Slowly, little by little, she came to trust the servant and enjoy his stories about his prince. In return, the Lady told the servant of her beloved lake.

"One day, the servant arrived later than usual because his prince was getting angry with his constant disappearance. He found her, unable to sleep, frightened that the servant wouldn't show up. She told him that most people ran away when they got to know her, so he pulled her into his arms and told her:

'Being different is nothing to be afraid of.' And the Lady then told him. 'You wouldn't say that if you knew the truth about me.' The servant still didn't know that she was a cursed druid. Instead, he told her. 'You don't realize how special you are Freya. I've never known another like you.' And then they kissed—" Mordred was cut off by a collective awe-ing. He raised a brow questioningly, at the dreamy sigh from the Knights.

"Mordred, how could you possibly know such...such detail?" Arthur asked, uncomfortably. It was amusing to see the king's vocabulary fail him.

"Yes, I can't imagine Lady Freya spread this tale herself," Guinevere frowned. Mordred shrugged in response.

"I'm not sure my lady. I've heard bits here and there, every version is slightly different. Only that, I think the story was meant to be shared." He paused, unsure if he should continue. Knowing his hesitation only heightened their curiosity, Mordred reluctantly added, "The Old Religion works in mysterious ways." the Knights and Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Wisely, Mordred continued with the story.

"So the, um, servant told her he wanted to run away and find a house by a lake where the two could live in world of their own. But Lady Freya was reluctant. 'You have a life here, a place where you belong, and friend whose side you belong to.' She told the servant. But he didn't care. He wanted to take her away, somewhere safe where he could watch over her and protect her. So he left her, promising to come back with supplies. She lied and promised the servant she would wait for him, in the end, she simply couldn't let him give up his life for her, so she fled the citadel."

"Elyan...are you crying?"

"W-what? No, don't be ridiculous, it's the wind!" Elyan insisted. "What's your excuse Percival?" he snapped at the gentle giant, and Percival's answer was instantaneous.

"Gwaine got too emotional and accidentally smacked my nose."

"Hey! I tripped because Leon was distracting me with his incessant sniffling!"

"It's called allergies, Sir Gwaine,"

"Wait...but what about the prince?" Arthur spoke without meaning too. He flushed when all eyes turned to him; he didn't mean to be so taken by the story. But oh hell, he just wanted to know the answer. "You said the servant and his prince were best friends. The servant would leave his prince just like that?" Arthur frowned. His thoughts were —obviously— on Merlin. How would he react if he found out Merlin had run away with some girl, (who was also allegedly a prisoner) fleeing from Camelot, and fleeing from Arthur's side? He mentally shuddered at the thoughts and banished them from his mind. So maybe he missed Merlin a little bit after all.

Mordred was equally as puzzled as the king. "You might not think so highly of him after I finish the story sire. While it was true that servant and his prince shared a strong bond, the prince had —in some ways— neglected his servant and denied acknowledging that his servant was indeed his best friend." Arthur clamped up, and his face reddened in embarrassment. The whole scenario was eerily similar to Arthur's. It had to be nothing more than a coincidence, right?

"So what happened next?" Leon successfully steered the conversation away from his King's mortification.

"So the servant rushed back to his chambers, blissfully unaware of the dangers in the kingdom. The servant's mentor picked up on the servant's good mood and became suspicious. The servant's mentor worked for his prince as well, and the two had been searching for the missing druid girl and the cause of the attacks of innocent civilians in the lower towns. It took the mentor a while, but he'd made the connection of Lady Freya's curse to the beast that was killing the villagers.

"The mentor had suspicions that his ward —the servant— might have released the druid girl, but I don't think he ever knew that the servant was seeing her or that he'd fallen in love with her. Anyway, the mentor questioned the servant about the girl, and the servant denied knowing anything. The mentor then knew the servant was lying and revealed to him that Freya was the cause behind the death of the villagers and that the mentor had no choice but to reveal this to the prince.

"The servant knew what this meant; it meant that his prince would hunt Freya. So as soon as his mentor left to inform his prince, the servant ran to Freya. But she was already gone."

"No!" Guinevere gasped. "How could the mentor do that to his ward?"

"You have to remember that this is a true story, your Highness," Mordred explained sympathetically, though he understood the mentor's actions, it didn't mean Mordred had to like them. "Back then, Lady Freya was a threat to the villagers. The mentor was only thinking of the servant's well being and the safety of the villagers."

"What about now? Is she still a threat?" Arthur growled through gritted teeth; it earned him a handful of dirty looks. For pity's sake! It was a story! But it was not, Arthur kept reminding himself that this all really happened, and the main character of the story was sitting right behind him.

"No Sire, the curse is broken," Mordred replied patiently; he knew it was hard for Arthur to hear a story of magic where magic was not evil, and he appreciated the King's effort.

"But how did it break? What do the servant and the prince have to do with the Lady's broken curse?" Gwaine asked, raising eyebrows from the others at Gwaine's rather perceptive thought. "What? I'm not as dense as you people think!"

"Everything. They're all connected." Mordred said philosophically, but his eyes were alight with humor.

"The servant was crushed to find that Freya disappeared. He searched for her desperately unable to believe that she would disappear without him. He tried to stall his prince, but his prince snapped at him fiercely and proceeded with the hunt. When the servant tried to confronted his mentor again, the two fought and the servant stormed off angrily.

"Meanwhile, Lady Freya had been sneaking around the village looking for an escape. The moon was dangerously high and she still hadn't made it out. The prince took a group of knights and searched the village for her. He found Freya cornered near the city walls and he raised his sword at her. Freya begged for the knights to stay away from her. She knew that if they got too close, she'd kill them when she transformed. But the knights didn't listen to her, and right before their eyes, the beast took over her body."

Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that heard this story before, or at the very least seen something similar to it. A human transforming into a beast, he'd seen something like it long before, but he couldn't recall from where.

"The servant arrived at the scene just in time to see the Lady Freya in her beast form. She snarled at knights and the prince, but they had her cornered well. The prince was a brilliant swordsman and an excellent hunter. However the cursed beast was strong, had Lady Freya let the beast stay in control she might have defeated the knights and the prince, but when she saw the servant standing behind his prince, eyes full of tears, she regained her senses. For a moment, she could only stare at the servant, begging him to forgive her.

"If only she had known that those were tears of pity, of sympathy, and not of betrayal as Lady Freya had imagined. In the split second that Freya and the servant met each other's eyes, the prince took the beast's distraction as an opportunity to deal her mortal blow."

Unshed tears filled the warriors of Camelot, and although they knew Freya would survive in the end (because she was sitting the training grounds with them) they felt for the cruel fate the lovers endured.

"D-did, ahem." Arthur cleared his throat. "Did the prince realize his servant was in love with the dru- with Lady Freya?"

Mordred shook his head sadly. "No, the prince had no idea. Even the servant's mentor had no idea how truly in love Freya and the servant were."

"How horrible," Guinevere murmured. "To be nearly slain by your lover's best friend. For the servant to know that his best friend nearly killed his love, I can't imagine the pain the servant must have gone through."

"There's no nearly about it your highness. The prince killed his friend's love."

"That's impossible! Even magic cannot bring back the dead!" Arthur roared angrily. He knew that no good would come out of this story; he drew his sword once more and marched toward the unseeing Lady Freya. Before the Lady even noticed the King, Mordred blocked Arthur's path.

"Step aside Mordred. It is clear to me that she is not of the living. Such unnatural creature can only be brought through dark magic. I will slay her before she hurts my people." Arthur growled viciously. Mordred's eyes narrowed dangerously. Even while Arthur had continued pursuing Mordred's kin, the evil ones, Mordred had stood by Arthur's side and slayed his own people on the King's behalf. All because he trusted the Arthur and future that would be brought by Emrys and the Once and Future King. But Lady Freya...no, he wouldn't allow anyone to lay a finger on the precious priestess.

"I will not, Sire. The Lady Freya is purest, kindest soul I have ever met. She is not a creature, she is a living, breathing human being, and if you kill her now...the white goddess herself will rain hell down on Camelot." Mordred's eyes blazed with a fierce bravery that had been hidden away deep within the boy's heart. Mordred was, after all, still a boy bordering on manhood. He was young and naive, and yet Mordred had found the courage to protect Lady Freya and defy Arthur, his King. "I'm begging you, Sire, hear the rest of my tale, and if you decide that it is still necessary to take her life, then I only ask that you take mine as well."

Arthur was both shocked and proud of his young protégé. This was Mordred, the same boyish knight who had ridden his horse backward on the knight's childish prank; who'd been carefully sculpted into the warrior that now stood in front of him by none other than Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and himself. Mordred wasn't merely Arthur's legacy as a warrior, he was the legacy of the Knights of the Round Table...and Arthur couldn't bear to lose Mordred now. So he re-sheathed his sword for the third time that afternoon.

"I'm listening," Arthur hissed. Guinevere took her place by Arthur's side and placed an approving hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him softly, and a part of Arthur's anger melted away. Although Guinevere was wary of Lady Freya, she was trusted Mordred's word about her.

"It's alright Arthur. She hasn't done anything yet. It won't harm us to listen to Mordred's story before we make any decisions." Guinevere soothed. Mordred continued retelling his story before the King could jump to any rash conclusions.

"The blade pierced her shoulder while she was still in her beast form. She tore her eyes away from the servant and the beast in her tried to strike out at the prince. However, since Freya had some control while she was around the servant, she managed to spook the prince enough to make an escape. The servant managed to distract his prince and best friend long enough for Freya to fly away and leave the prince unable to track her.

"The servant knew where she was going. She was flying to the place where they had fallen in love, to the underground of the citadel. When the servant had the chance he took off after her. He found her in the tiny alcove that she had been sleeping in nights before, filled with pain. Freya sobbed into his lap and repeatedly apologized for not telling him the truth. She told him of how she became cursed. She told him how much she regretted and still did, killing that sorcerer.

"'You have to let me go...I'm dying.' Freya tried to tell the servant. But he wouldn't listen to her, he was determined to save her. The servant couldn't bear to lose the only woman his heart ever desired for. So he dressed her in a beautiful gown that he'd stolen from the castle and carried her out of the castle, past the guards without being noticed, and he carried her for hours till he reached the Lake of Avalon.

"'You remembered?' Freya asked him as he carefully set her down on the beach. The servant barely managed a smile at her and told her, 'I promised I'd always protect you, and I've failed…so I wanted to at least give you your lake.' Freya cried in his arms and said to him, 'You haven't failed, you saved me. You made me feel loved…I promise that one day, I will return to you,' and Freya took her last breath and passed from this world in the arms of the man who she held dearest." Mordred paused as the overwhelming emotions from story left him unable to speak. He noted that he wasn't the only glassy-eyed knight in the field. The queen was openly crying silent tears.

A chilled breeze shook the trees and pulled crisp green leaves high into the air. They fell in dancing circles around the Knights. The sky above them turned noticeably darker as the grey-blue clouds covered the shine of the sun. Even the temperature dropped to evenly match the melancholic tone of Mordred's story. the Knights shivered at the strangely thick air around them.

"That cannot be the end of the story." Guinevere murmured and brushed the stray tears out of her eyes. She peeked at Lady Freya, who sat unsuspectingly of the knights who now knew her story. Freya seemed happy enough. She seemed to enjoy talking to the knights who persistently tried to impress Lady Freya with their use of crossbows and javelins. Guinevere could tell Freya didn't really care for the weapons but laughed with knights out of courtesy. Her soft brown eyes met with Guinevere's for a moment and she politely bowed to the queen. Guinevere nodded back, a bit startled by her steadfast gaze.

"No my Lady, it's not," Mordred replied. "When Freya died in the servant's arms, he raged and pleaded for her to be saved. He held Freya close and sobbed for what seemed like an eternity. Then he laid her body in a boat and decorated her final resting place with leaves and garments. And though it broke the servant's heart to do so, he finally pushed the boat out into the middle of the lake and set it alight with fire…

"Unbeknownst to the servant, the White Goddess was listening to the servant's pleas and took pity on the lovers. When the servant returned to his old life, the White Goddess entered the realm Avalon and sought out Freya's spirit. She gathered Freya in her arms and told her, 'You my child have arrived here before your time. Do not cry Freya, your part in this world is not over yet. I grant you my blessing my child. You shall be reborn as Lady Freya, Guardian of the Lake of Avalon, keeper of the gates between life and death. Awaken now my child,' And the White Goddess pooled her powers into her and recreated Freya's body, and the lady was born once more."

"Tha-that's amazing...she was blessed by a goddess?" Elyan swallowed in disbelief, his face mirrored the men around him. Gwaine, however, was frowning.

"I don't get it. What made the servant so special that the goddess brought Freya back for him?"

Mordred smiled at this. "Freya asked her the same thing. The goddess laughed and told her, 'That man you met is no mere servant, he is the past, present, and future of Albion. He has a great destiny before him, and one day, he will need you by his side.'"

Gwaine let out a low whistle. "He's definitely no ordinary servant." The others nodded their heads in response. Mordred grimaced.

"Indeed. Their love was so great that not even death stood in their way. How can I compete with a man like that?" Mordred felt Arthur's arm on his shoulder, a show of compassion the King shared with his most trusted knights. His eyes met with Arthur's look of understanding, and Mordred felt his heart lighten. the Knights as well punched Mordred in a friendly manner, and Gwaine pulled him into a headlock and muzzled his underling's hair.

Guinevere watched the scene with her heart swelling with pride. Camelot had really grown to be such a wonderful, welcoming, homely kingdom since Arthur had taken the crown. Watching her knight's interact without barriers of propriety was all the proof that Guinevere needed to know that Arthur was well on his way to creating the greatest kingdom known to Albion.

A low rumble in the darkened skies reminded Arthur that the weather wouldn't hold for much longer. He needed to get his knight's inside and the Queen and their guest out before the rainfall.

"Men, we're done for today. Make haste to put the weapons away. The sky is not going to hold for much longer!" Arthur quickly shouted out the orders. Just then, he had turned to Lady Freya, only to note that she was standing a few feet from him.

"You're highness, I-" She began.

"SIRE, look out!" A sharp cry cut her off, Arthur could only turn his head in time to see a poorly thrown javelin flying in his direction. No…he couldn't avoid it. It was coming too fast. Guinevere, Guinevere was too close!

"Sire!" A feminine voice cried and Arthur was tackled to the ground. He landed with a loud thud and caught sight of the javelin landing centimeters from the spot that he had just stood. Arthur groaned, disoriented, and was vaguely aware of heaviness on his chest and his knight's pestering him if he was okay.

"I'm fine! Shut up for a moment!" Arthur snapped. He propped himself on his elbows and the weight rose with him. Against his chest, there was a head of dark chestnut colored hair flowing in loose curls with pale arms clutching fearfully at his armor. Lady Freya?

As if sensing his thoughts, Lady Freya slowly raised her head from his chest and blinked dizzily. "Are you alright Sire?" she whispered with eyes shimmering with worry.

"Fine…" He whispered back, stunned. He then realized he had a bit of an audience and cleared his throat loudly and helped Lady Freya to her feet. He quickly spun around in the direction the javelin was thrown from. "Who threw that? You could have injured the queen, you fools!" Arthur shouted hotly, and two knights quickly rushed forward with sheepish expressions on their faces. Arthur knew it was an accident and that these men would never try to hurt their queen on purpose, so he let them off with chores as punishment.

"Sire, you're bleeding." Elyan pointed out. Arthur glanced at his right bicep, no wonder it had been stinging, there was a clear gash cleanly cut through his chain mail. He frowned, wondering if he should rip off a piece of his undershirt to tie it, but then Merlin would probably have fit about having to mend it later. Damn it, this was not the time to be thinking of that idiot!

"I'm fine," Arthur quickly insisted.

"Sire, if I may, please allow me to heal it." Lady Freya had finally spoken up after being fussed over by Guinevere who was making sure the Druid dignitary hadn't been injured while saving her husband. Arthur was startled. Heal him…as in magic? Freya seemed to sense the fear on his face.

"Sire, I have come here as a representative of the druid tribes to share with Camelot our traditions and customs so that we may forge a greater understanding and bond between our two kinsfolk and to honor the peace treaty you have signed with Iseldir. Healing the sick and injured is our way of life, your majesty, so please allow me this small wish." She spoke with fluid, elegant, confidence that Arthur had seen so few nobles pull off with such ease. However, Arthur was no amateur himself.

"I appreciate the thought my Lady, but you must understand my, err, concern with using such…such abilities within these walls," Arthur replied as politely as he could. He felt Gwen place a hand on his shoulder with a worried look in her eyes.

"I understand your concern, King Arthur. But you cannot truly forge a bond with my people until you see and understand our ways. I ask that you allow me to show you who we are King Arthur. We are not the vengeful sorcerers that have ravaged your lands and the heart of this kingdom in the past. We come to you with kind intentions to thank you for the mercy have shown us." She explained with an easy smile on her face, and Arthur found that he couldn't refuse her. She was right. He couldn't expect to form an alliance with the druids and then forbid them from using their magic when it was he who insisted on the alliance.

"You are correct of course my Lady," Arthur answered her and held his arm out with great apprehension. She wouldn't hurt him, there was no way, not while she was surrounded by so many of his knights. Then he found himself thinking about Mordred's story, and the struggles the Lady had faced. It seemed rather doubtful that she had an ill bone in her body.

"Thank you, King Arthur." Freya let out a huge sigh of relief and a cheerful smile blossomed across her face. She extended Arthur's arm and examined it carefully; Sir Gwaine peeled back the chainmail on his arm. Her small hands hovered above the gash and she closed her eyes. What Arthur saw next both fascinated and terrified him. The air around Lady Freya warmed considerably and a golden aura seem to form around her. Her eyes snapped open her pupils became swirling pools of liquid gold. In a soft voice she whispered her incantation:

"Gwella rhwygiadau hyn," The words flowed from her lips effortlessly, it had an almost lyrical tone to it. Arthur felt heat gathering at his bicep. It was a warm hot rather than a burning hot. A foreign sensation invaded his arm, tickled his skin like the brush of a horse's mane. He watched his skin stitched back together like watching a wound being inflicted in reverse. It was over in a flash, but it felt like it lasted much longer. "Sire, are you alright? Do you still feel pain?" The Lady asked nervously.

Arthur blinked, realizing he was being watched by several eyes. He cleared his throat and withdrew his arm. "No. I'm fine. You are…very skilled." Arthur replied for a lack of better words. He was stunned though. There was no pain, no soreness, nothing. Her magic was gentle, not at all malicious like the magic he'd seen in the past. It must be because she was a druid.

"Thank you, Sire." Freya bowed her head slightly.

"No, thank you Lady Freya. We're truly grateful for your presence today." Guinevere quickly added, a genuine appreciation in her voice.

"Your abilities never fail to amaze me, Lady Freya." Mordred quickly added. Freya turned to Mordred, her eyes narrowed with confusion. Mordred took that as a good sign. "Do you recognize me, my Lady?"

"Mordred?" Freya whispered in wonder. Her eyes widened and suddenly she launched her arms around the younger knight's shoulders. Mordred stumbled back in surprise, but quickly returned the Lady's embrace. "Oh, Mordred! You've grown so much!" She exclaimed, pulling back.

Mordred blushed. "You're as beautiful as I remember my Lady."

"Oh such a gentlemen," She teased lightly. Mordred was pushed out of the way before he could respond only to be replaced by Sir Gwaine.

"He only speaks the truth, my Lady." Gwaine cut in smoothly, wiggling his eyebrows. "For you." He whispered huskily, holding out red wildflowers. Arthur groaned and wished he could crawl back into bed. The other knights only chuckled at Gwaine's antics. Freya chuckled and took the flowers.

"I truly love red flowers." She whispered softly, taking a tiny whiff.

"Is there any particular reason?" Guinevere asked quickly. the Knights paused, knowing that the queen wanted to hear about the mystery servant from the Lady herself. the Knights themselves were rather curious about the identity of this servant. Freya looked up, flushing for letting her thoughts drift. She stared at the flowers thoughtfully before answering.

"Someone very special to me once asked me, if I could have anything I wanted in the world, what would I ask for. I asked him for a strawberry." She paused, twirling the flower in her hand fondly. "He came back with the most sheepish expressions I'd ever seen and handed me a red rose and said 'At least it's the same color.'" Freya laughed, her little story also inciting laughter from the Knights.

"You must really care for this man," Guinevere replied. Freya smiled at her, and that was all the answer she needed. Gwen turned to Mordred with a saddened expression. He was right, there was no competing with a man whose mention alone could make a woman glow with happiness.

"We should go." Arthur finally said, when his knights were done clearing up the training grounds. Mordred offered Freya his arm, and she accepted happily. They walked back to the castle making easy conversation. Lady Freya formally introduced herself to Guinevere and from the glint in Gwen's eyes, Arthur could tell she absolutely adored Freya. The two seemed well on their way to become good acquaintances.

Arthur's mind was on the freshly healed tissue on his arm. He couldn't help but think of all the lives that could have been saved with a little bit of druid magic like Freya's. This line of thought settled uncomfortably in his gut. There was truth in the fact, but years of fearing and disregarding magic left a guilty aftertaste in his head. He thought back to the expression on Lady Freya's face when she healed him. She seemed to be completely in her element. That healing of hers seemed as natural as breathing. He remembered Mordred's story and wondered how she was able to give it up for a while.

"And that my lady is where the princess lost a bet to me and paid my tavern tab for three weeks," Gwaine grinned facetiously. Arthur suddenly snapped back into focus.

"Sir Gwaine, I implore that you refrain from spreading such ridiculous stories." Arthur snapped haughtily, feeling his face heat up.

"He's still sore about it," Gwaine whispered loud enough for Arthur to hear. Freya giggled in response. Arthur just groaned and fought the urge to rip his hair out. Gwen put a calming hand on his shoulder, though she too was barely containing laughter. Arthur almost wished Merlin was here to distract them from his mortification.

As they were nearing the citadel, Mordred was leading in front with Freya and the rest of the entourage a few paces behind to "give them space" at Guinevere's insistence. A small peasant girl approached Lady Freya with a bashful look on her face. She was trying to hide a bushel of roses behind her back but they were painfully obvious to see. Freya pretended not to notice her until the girl worked up the courage to tug on her dress. Freya then smiled and knelt beside her.

"Hello there. What's your name sweetheart?" The druid asked kindly. The girl kicked the dirt at her feet shyly and held out the roses.

"M-my name is M-mary, my Lady. Th-these are for you." The little girl reddened nervously. Arthur couldn't help but share a small smile with Guinevere. Never had he been more proud of his people.

"Did you pick these yourself? I don't think I've ever seen so many roses in my life." Freya asked amicably, smoothing out the petals and staring with some distant nostalgia. Arthur suddenly remembered the story she was telling not but a few minutes ago. He wondered if she was thinking of that man; it made him seem even more real.

The little girl shook her head and pointed in the direction of the citadel, "It was that mister over there." She giggled and skipped away to her mother's side. Freya and Arthur both watched the girl leap into her mother's arms, the mother smiled and bowed in Arthur's direction. The mother and daughter left with gentle smiles on their faces. Meanwhile…

Gwaine whistled. "Whoever this lad is, he sure has guts." Gwaine grinned appreciatively.

"I wonder who the young lady was pointing too." Elyan thought aloud. They all glanced towards the courtyard, it was mostly deserted except for a sole rider in the center dismantling his saddle. They could only make out his silhouette from the back. He has short, cropped, blackish brown hair, a long pale neck covered in a red neckerchief and a brown jacket.

"It's Mer-" Arthur began.

"Merlin." Freya breathed finishing for him. The Camelot knights and Guinevere looked at Freya in surprise. They hadn't mentioned the manservant once. Freya looked transfixed.

The roses fell out of her grip and she was sprinting across the courtyard with her dress hoisted in her hands. Merlin turned slowly in her direction as if he had heard her whispered words from across the courtyard. He grinned a light-hearted grin that Arthur hadn't seen on Merlin's face since he'd first started working for him, that naive, young, foolish Merlin. He held his arms open for her and she leaped.

Merlin caught her by the waist and pulled her close, holding her tightly and preciously like she was a fragile doll.

"They know each other?" Leon leaned over to ask Arthur. The King just shrugged, baffled by this display.

"Perhaps they're friends?" Guinevere suggested, then pursed her lips in confusion. "Though I wasn't aware Merlin had any close relations to druid dignitaries."

"Friends?" Gwaine snorted. "Is that what it looks like to you?" The Knights shot Gwaine an exasperated look. Freya pulled out of Merlin's arms and wrapped them again around his neck, her fingers wove into his hair and he kissed her with a passion. He held her carefully and kissed her desperately, lovingly.

"Oh god...it's Merlin. Merlin is the man who captured the Lady of the Lake's heart." Elyan whispered in shock. The other knights were similarly floored.

"I should have known I could never compare with him," Mordred whispered as well, a double meaning in his words as he stared at Merlin and Freya somberly.

"Wait. If Merlin is the servant, then that makes Arthur-"

"The prince who killed his best friend's love." Arthur finished. Thunder boomed in the sky and Camelot was showered by a storm.

This story is very different from what I typically write. It was strange to write a Merlin fic without very much Merlin in it. I especially did not expect Mordred to turn out the way I wrote him.

Follow me on Twitter! I'd love to connect with other Merlin fans!

Kiki1770