Note: So I wrote this a while ago, and I'm looking to see if it's any good.

Vivian became aware of a prickle of heat at her fingertips. As she began to regain consciousness, memories flooded back to her. Swirling images of sorcerers and snippets of incantations floated about her mind. Soon the tingling sensation spread to her entire body. Vivian felt the crystal encasing her crack and fall away. Her eyes, a chocolate brown outlined with a bright shade of green, finally opened. She felt as though she were no more than a day older than when the time spell had been cast upon her. The druid sorcerers that had served her mother, Morgause, had done it; she remembered now. Then, she had been eighteen, and it had only been a day away from her nineteenth birthday. Vivian chuckled to herself. She must be at least a few hundred, if not a few thousand, years old by now. The last bit of crystal fell away as she stepped forward into a shaft of light that came through a hole in in the ceiling of the cave. Vivian rolled out her neck; almost every bone in her body popped as she moved. She extended her hands upward and drew strength from the sun in order to summon her magic. The mountain in which she had been trapped rumbled as she ascended out of the crystal cavern, the birthplace of all magic. Once into fresh air, she breathed a sigh of relief and dropped nimbly to the ground. A warm summer breeze rustled through her dark hair. Vivian looked about for a sign of any sort left by the line of druids that had been assigned to guard and wait for her. Some numbers had been carved into a nearby tree. Not quite sure what to do with them, Vivian scurried up the tree to try to get a better view of her new time period. Some ways away, she spotted a large town swarming with people and these large moving boxes.

Below her, a twig snapped. Vivian looked down to see a pair of men, both with druid symbols tattooed to the back of their necks, looking up at her. One was rather thick and blunt-looking, while the other had a nimble and intelligent air.

"Hey sweetie!" the more muscular one called, "You lost?"

"Do not mock me, druid," Vivian snapped. "You know what my awakening means. It seems that King Arthur's arrival is approaching. The Once and Future King shall rise again."

...

Merlin awoke with a start early that morning. Gasping for air, he fumbled with shaking hands in his bedside table drawer for the reverse aging spell potion. He gulped it down hurriedly and sighed in relief as the spell ended. Old age gave you quite a license, but Merlin had inconveniently stopped aging after Arthur's death. As powerful as he had become since then, Merlin could only hold the spell for so long, and he'd been under it for almost a month now.

For years, Merlin had been waiting for Arthur. Many times he had been on the brink of giving up all hope. He had traveled the world, learned new languages and cultures, adapted to era after era, but he had always returned to where the kingdom of Camelot had once stood. Today, it was called Glastonbury; it wasn't exactly where Camelot used to be, but in was in the general area. Disappointingly, Arthur had always remained dead. Today, however, was different. He had felt a disturbance in the usual flow of magic. Something big had happened, and Merlin was almost certain it had something to do with the druids who had moved into town several months ago. He'd seen them in public a few times, and he'd even tailed them whenever they acted the least bit off or suspicious. Finally his efforts paid off and he overheard a few arguments held in their kitchen about waiting for the coming of someone who sounded like a priestess. It was most likely a cult, though he had been wrong many times before. Merlin had no doubt the original druid practices had been changed and diluted over the years, but it wouldn't do to be sloppy. He remembered vaguely that there was a druid branch that had split off and become loyal to Morgana shortly after Gwen had passed.

Pulling on a fresh pair of jeans, Merlin wrinkled his nose at the slight old person scent that lingered about the old cabin he stayed in. He really hated the aging spell, but people were generally less guarded around old people. Merlin pulled a red and black cap over his messy black hair with the visor flipped backwards, the way the youths of this time liked to wear them. He studied his reflection in the cracked mirror that hung above the tap. A line of ants crawled around the rusty drain. Pale, with black hair and blue eyes, Merlin appeared to be totally normal. He was tall but skinny, and not particularly muscled. He'd blended in for this long; there was no reason it would change now.

The fog had lifted a bit when Merlin reached the main road of Glastonbury. His stomach growled as he walked down the street on his way to his favorite diner to get breakfast. It was a small town, by modern standards, but it was at least as large as Camelot had been back in the day. He glanced sideways at the druid house as he passed. He caught a glimpse of a teenage girl with brown hair in the dining room as he passed. Merlin frowned; there was only one teenage girl in that family, and unless she had just gotten a drastic change of hair color (and an exceptional dye job it would have been too), that one girl was a platinum blond.

Merlin entered the diner and sat down at his usual booth in the far corner. That particular spot gave him a view of the entire room; any potential threats would be noticed immediately. From behind the counter, a chubby waitress walked over to his table.

"Um, sir? I hate to bother you, but an old man normally sits there," the pudgy waitress said as she smacked her gum.

"Oh, haha. He's my granddad; he's getting old, so he asked me to come up to take care of him for a year or so," Merlin replied. "He said this place has the best waffles." Merlin donned his most charming smile, and given the years he'd had to practice, it was more than effective.

"I never knew he had family! And good looking relations at that," the waitress leaned on the table, now in complete flirt mode. Merlin was reminded of a time long ago when he and Arthur had sat together at a tavern and been a greeted by a similar waitress. He also remembered with a touch of nostalgia that that had been the first time he'd met Gwaine.

"Oh do you know him?" Merlin feigned interest. He was fairly sure he had never exchanged a word with this girl in his life.

"Well, n-no," the waitress said, caught in her bluff. "I just always see him here mornings. I figured he seemed kind of a lonely type…" Merlin pulled a sort of blank look that intoned she'd said the wrong thing.

"Um, uh can I take your order?" she said.