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The dead whisper, and they are often never heard.

He can feel the approach of Samhain's Eve wearing the veil thin—the one set down between the living and the dead. Merlin catches reflections as he fetches well-water or pours Arthur's goblet at supper, of translucent-cloth mauve and a colour like the blossoms of river thistles.

Merlin hears the stirring of magic in the ground beneath his feet. It's a buzzing—he knows the sound of angry beehives. This buzzing is softer, less defined and purposeful. It vibrates with a growing intensity and echoes into Merlin's ribcage.

The rays of light glowing through the treeline, it fades off, wheat-coloured. A perfect thought for the end of the harvest.

A dark, wet head emerges from Avalon's waters.

Morgana's dress clings to every inch of lily-pale skin, to every curve, and he moves on instinct. Merlin barely sense the frigid temperature of the water. Freya grins and grins, dark-eyed and lovely, as he drags his heavy legs forward and grabs painfully onto her shoulders with both of his hands.

It's undeniable. Merlin's long fingers spread against the damp, mauve cloth. His nose picks up the odour of sweet-bitter mildrew.

"You're real…" he says, breathy as his adrenaline subsides.

It's undeniable to him and it's real.

"Merlin," she whispers, because Freya is dead and this vision has her face and speech. Merlin's heart aches. "I have missed you."

"I couldn't save you." Merlin cups the side of her face, a hot flush of moisture threatening to push out of the corners of his eyes. Her skin is cold enough for her to be shiver, and she doesn't. "I wanted to save you—I'm sorry," he whispers back, voice breaking.

"This was… meant to be."

Freya's cheek nudges to his palm. She tells him with a rueful expression, "We were not. My power cannot hold this form for long. This is all the time we have, and it is very little."

The knowledge feel burning; it's burning a hole in him.

But he smiles, tearfully, gazing over her in plain admiration—her tangled, drippy, brown hair and the way she looks at him in the same admiration.

"You are exactly…" The same. You are the same girl to me.

Freya sweeps her lake-wet fingertips over his stubbled jaw. "I loved you, truly… I will love you always until Avalon's magic leaves this world."

"Then I swear, it never will," Merlin vows, bravely.

She shushes him in gentle nature, drawing in closer. Deeper into the water, they go, where the surface hits her naked thighs. She's bare, looking divine and unearthly surrounded by jewel-black waters. Merlin tastes a hint of blood on her mouth, when he kisses her, when Freya's mouth naturally accepts it, but releases no warm breath.

He wishes neither of them were crying.

Freya pulls Merlin's hands flat against her tiny, round breasts, holding them there. She pushes into those hands when Merlin fondles their weight, sliding his thumbs up over her nipples. Her own fingers unknot the rope to his breeches, carefully reaching in to pet Merlin's cock until he shudders and groans needy to her lips.

He's slowly becoming warm all-over, despite the seasonal cold of the lake.

Merlin doesn't think he minds the loss of control, as she pulls one of his trembling hands down between her legs, furiously rubbing him onto the folds of her cunt and softly sighing when he does it himself. Her body should be rosy and hot with blood. But against Merlin's lips sucking and nipping her throat, she remains cool, smooth and unbruised flesh.

Head already full of desire, Merlin encircles an arm to her waist, parting Freya's legs and easing inside her with a push of his fingers. Her loud gasp to Merlin's face indicates shock and lust, a joyous combination. Freya ruts sharply down on him and lifts her slim leg to his hip.

He realises he wants her brimming of warmth and snug around him, clamping down on his prick, living. Merlin has to settle for teasing her open, pumping in and bidding his time until they come down together, his cock spurting to Freya's hip, and her cunt lessening its tightening spasms.

When Merlin slips out his fingers, he turns red as a knight's cape as she pecks them.

Her mouth loses its orchid pink colour.

"Take care," she murmurs, her edges vanishing into glossy transparency. "You mean so much more than you believe you are."

Merlin stares, wide-eyed in clamouring horror, mouth hanging open.

"Freya, whats happening—?"

"It's time for me to return," she explains, crystalline as the water around them. Freya leans in, and her kiss is solid and firm as anything. Merlin's lips buzz pleasantly where she has touched. "You have never forgotten me, and because of that, you are forever with me."

Merlin bows his head, wiping quickly under his eyes and smiling.

"I'll come back," he says. "I will see you again."

"I look forward to that, Merlin."

The wheat-coloured light of day vanishes, and so does she, melting back into the lake.

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Requested/won by purr-merthur-purr on Tumblr! :) Thank you very much for reading and any comments/questions are deeply appreciated!