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A/N: Thanks for reading!! this is jjust a short one shot inspired by a joke my firnd made...it was very quick so sorry for any errors!! i hope you enhoy!!

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The tears rolled gentley down Merlin's pale cheeks as he stared out at the sky stained bronze in the late summer sunset. The autumnal hues reflected and danced off of the Lake Avalon as Merlin looked across the water to the resting place of his long dead King. He sat on the green grassy verge of the lake, alone, as he had been for so long and thought back to his past life and happier times. In the hundreds of years since Arthur's death, he had travelled the world many times and seen spectactular things, but he was always alone, there was never anyone to share them with, and in the past twenty years the lake had been calling him again, drawing him back with the unshakeable feeling that it would be soon, that Arthur would come home to him, that his wait would be over.

Tomorrow would be the anniversary of the Kings death, and even after the passage of so many years, the hurt was still raw in Melrin's heart and so as he sat gazing across the lake of placid waters, he couldn't help the tears leving his eyes. A stone hit the ground next to him, landing with a soft "putt" on the grass, and behind him he heard the harsh cackle of teen laughter, mocking him ceaselessly, heedless of hi patiecne and misery.

"Smelly old man" On of them called but he ignored them.

"Oi! Grandad! Get a hair cut!" Shouted another, again Merlin did not look around. He knew that his long white hair and glowing beard were out of place in the modern times, but they had been a symbol of age and wisedom for so long during his life that he had kept them, and his old visage out of rememberance for his long years.

"Leave him alone, Randolph" called a teenage female voice. Merlin's motuh quirked in a ghost of a smile. She reminded him of Morgana. After all this time he still felt gutted at the thought of her memory, like his organs had been pulled out of his chest. He closed his eyes agains the on slaught of memories he had. A single ter slipped from his eyes and glistened in the dying sun light. Eventually they got bored and left him alone. He was use to their crual taunts.

He sat, still, staring sadly at the glimmering surface of the lake, tormented by thoughts of his past, and looking into the future saw only endless waiting until the suffering world around him decayed into nothing. The dark fell over he horizon casting the lake into a dark shadow of the night and Merlin sighed sadly into it. He pulled himself up onto his old feet and took the well worn path back to his sparse single bedroomed flat where he lived with a stray cat. He hadn't named it, he knew the cat was a passing visitor in his long and longly life, as were so many others. He made himself beans on toast for his dinner then went to bed. He fell asleep quickly, a skill he had perfected over many long years, and as he slept, he dreamed.

It was a misty day, cold for summer, and Merlin stood alone, like he was so often, at the lake's shore. From across the grey water, he saw a slight figure appear, walking on the lake through the early dawn mists.

"Hello, Merlin," called a long forgetten voice.

"Freya?" he asked the shrouded figure, her dress wafting gracefully above the glassy water, ripples dancing in the breeze. He smiled at her familiar face.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"It is time, Merlin. Tomorrow. Here. He will rise! Albion's time is near. Tomorrow. He will rise!" she therw back her head, and the lake raidiated a purple light that lit her pale skin into a ghostly hue. There was a ringing from around the lake, that grew in volume until it became deafening. Suddenly, there was silence, and Freya was gone from her space in the middle of the lake. Merling looked around, jumping when he noticed she now stood by him.

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