Summary: Anabelle Abbott is a princess- Through the twists in time and the magic of science, she has been the best friend to now King Arthur Pendragon. When Anabelle unexpectedly comes through the barriers of time, she is seeking help.

The loss of his heart after watching Guinevere walk away under the influence of Morgana has left Arthur a shell of his former self. When his Anabelle returns to him, he must rediscover the man he once was.

To my readers: This story has been in my head and partly on paper (in pieces) for quite some time. Before we start this story, I would apologize for not keeping my "promise" to begin the other three stories in my coming soon bank. I will still write them. Now, onto this new Merlin fic.

This is a bit of a different type of story for me. I will not stick completely to canon, but have split my story into two parts. Part one is an somewhat tame Arthur/OC story that leads into part two-a Mordred/OC story. Happy Reading!

PROLOGUE:

Opening her eyes under the blazing sun, twenty-year old Anabelle Abbott knew that she was dreaming-and yet everything around her felt so real. The bonds holding her wrists tightly stung her skin; the sun above her burned her face. Anabelle was being held captive- that much was clear. It was a hazard of the job, but by whom was she being held? She wondered how she had come to be in what appeared to be a dark forest. Looking around her surroundings, she saw no one keeping guard of her. She wiggled and shifted along the forest floor, attempting to free herself of her bonds. The air soon began to grow hotter the longer she sat held to the broad thick tree at her back. Not long after her short struggle, Anabelle's thoughts wandered more frequently, unable to focus completely. She was losing consciousness. She was losing the fight. Still, no one had returned to her. Those who had managed to capture and fix her to this tree were nothing more than cowards, she thought as her eyes closed again, hearing the distinct sound of voices moving toward her.

"Over here. There is someone over here. It is a woman. She is dressed in the most odd manner." The man's voice called out to those with him. "Help me to untie her. She is hurt." The man untied Anabelle, lifting her into his arms.

"You must move on without me. I will go no further this night. I will find a safe area to build a fire." He said without argument from those he travelled with.

When her eyes opened again, the air was far colder, a crisp chill to run over the skin. A small fire had been built to burn at her right as she turned her head to see. A man sat at the fire, watching her, his very charming eyes staring back at her. He stood to approach her as she turned away, looking up to the brightest stars she had ever seen.

"D not move. You are hurt. Who has done this to you?" He questioned her.

"I do not know." Anabelle responded indignantly. "For all I know it could have been you."

He chuckled for just a second. "I assure I did not harm you. What is your name?'

He was right. When she tried to move, to shift her body, it hurt. Her entire body ached, and her head hurt more than her body.

"Anabelle. My name is Anabelle." She spoke her name to the man, falling into another deep dreamless sleep, praying to wake in her bed.

The chill of the night air woke her a short time later. Sitting straight up, she first felt the sting in her chest. Her lungs were on fire as she coughed, and her head ached more than she liked. Groaning in pain, she felt a gentle pair of hands helping her to lay back down.

"You are still hurt Anabelle. You must be more careful."

Anabelle looked up to see the same captivating eyes. The man smiled weakly down at her, assuring her of her safety. "You must rest tonight. No harm will come to you."

Anabelle's head was jumbled with too many thoughts. "How do you know my name?" She asked, not quite recalling that she had given her name.

The man chuckled again, tending to her bandaged head. "You told me your name. You have been in and out of consciousness. I will stay to watch over you."

"Did you happen to tell me your name?" She felt the heat of his hand on her forehead.

"I did not." His short cavalier response was a frustrating one.

"Are you going to tell me your name?"

Running his fingers from her forehead, down her cheek, he answered. "My name is…"