The Labyrinth Through Camelot | {COMPLETED}

Prologue

"I have decided something!" Was the announcement the lady dressed in sea blue made as she entered the room. She had a basket rested neatly over one of her arms, filled to the handle with a blanket and food. "We are having a picnic." Her husband, settled behind a desk swamped in papers, glanced up at her, laughing slightly. He didn't necessarily roll his eyes but his attitude seemed to imply that he had. He wasn't annoyed, not in the slightest. In fact, he seemed more amused than anything.

"Oh, Love, you know how much I love you and all. But I thought I told you already. I've got too much work to do today to have our picnic," He replied, a small chuckle escaping despite how much he didn't want to. That didn't seem to stop his wife, however. She just shrugged her shoulders and shot him a smile that let him know that no matter what he said, her mind wouldn't be changed. Then, she set the basket down on the corner of the desk and removed the blanket, opening it up and shaking it out before speaking again.

"I know. Frankly, I don't care. The kingdom can wait thirty minutes while you eat lunch with me," She said, throwing the blanket out on the floor. She walked around, straightening it out, looking as though she had just won some big argument. In a sense, she had. After all, Freya had a way of getting whatever she wanted if she just set her mind on it.

With less than practiced ease and more muscle memory, the Lady of the Lake laid her picnic blanket out on the floor. Her umber brown skin glowed softly under the rays of sunlight that poured into the room from the large, open windows in the study that they were currently occupying. Her black, curly hair that went well down her back and to the edge of her rib cage was tied back with a simple blue ribbon that matched her water blue dress, finished off with a white corset that looked as though it was only fit for a servant. However, she hummed as she worked, setting out sandwiches and fruits on the blanket, with the energy and charm of a queen.

"Alright, you know what? You win, my dear. If it's a picnic in this room you want, a picnic you shall have." With nothing more than a glance, Freya watched her husband's eyes glow and the blanket on the floor straighten itself out on the floor. Freya giggled and picked up the picnic basket. Before she could turn back around again, she was hugged from behind by the warlock she was so proud to call her husband.

At first glance, Freya knew that Merlin didn't look like much. He looked like any other commoner out there, oftentimes passing for nothing more than a serving boy when they had company over. His calloused hands that wrapped around her own on the basket handle were a testament to that. People would find it surprising to learn that the greatest warlock of all time was the man who holed himself up in the study most days. No one would ever suspect it was Merlin. No one would ever guess how much of a sap he really could be. And yet, hidden away in the little study he called his own, he rested his chin gently on his wife's shoulder and let his hands cup hers carefully.

"You can have anything you want. Any food you could ever imagine, love. What will it be?" Merlin whispered in her ear. Freya giggled softly and leaned back against his chest. She knew what he was doing. The inside joke didn't seem to get hold, no matter how many decades they shared it.

"Strawberries," She decided, although the small smile on her lips revealed she had been planning on saying that all along. Merlin smiled and stayed silent for a second before something appeared between their hands. For a second, she was in the past, a century ago to be exact, and in a dark tunnel rather than the bright study they currently occupied. For a second she was a fugitive and not the caretaker of the castle they cared for in the absence of its six leaders.

But this memory happened to be her favorite.

When Merlin pulled his hands away, he took a red rose with him, resting gently in each of his hands. The joke had gone on for years, almost a common occurrence when she had been trapped at the lake, but it never seemed to lose its humor. The action pulled a laugh from Freya just like it always did and she leaned her head against his shoulder calmly.