"Guinevere!" Lancelot rushed forward as she fell, failing to catch her before she hit the ground. He skidded down beside her, reaching out a hand to scrape her hair back gently from her face. Her eyes were closed.

"What have you done to her!" he demanded, staring up at the dragon with anger on his face.

"Only what she asked," the dragon answered calmly. "She is now in a position to help – if Merlin is willing to hear her."

"And if he isn't?" Gwaine asked, coming up as well.

The dragon moved in the semblance of a shrug. "Then there is a chance that she will remain trapped with him in his nightmare for all time. This is the cost of friendship."

"Deceiver!" Lancelot rose swiftly to his feet, drawing his sword. "You didn't say any of that to her before!"

"Did I not," the dragon said malevolently. "And would it have affected her decision? Or simply your desire for her not to go?"

"Bring her back!" he demanded, gesturing his sword with purpose.

"What is done can not be undone," the dragon insisted. "The lady Guinevere is set upon a course of her own choosing. What the result will be, even I can not say."

Lancelot bristled in front of the dragon for a few moments longer, then seemed to realise how ridiculous he looked, and collapsed down beside Gwen again, wrapping his hand around hers.

The dragon's eyes narrowed. "Now I must leave you," he said.

"Leave us?" Gwaine wondered.

"My existence here is known to very few," the dragon explained. "I must leave before I am seen."

As he made to stretch his wings, Gwaine called to him once more. "Wait!" he said. "You told us that you knew about us, about what we did? About our part in the story of Camelot?"

"Indeed sir knight," the dragon commented, folding his wings down again temporarily, and turning to address Gwaine. "And your deeds will be truly remembered by all peoples in rhyme and song until the end of days."

Gwaine seemed to glow a little at that, folding his arms, a huge smile settling on his handsome face. Then the dragon looked down at Lancelot, still cradling Guinevere.

"You will also be remembered," he said shortly. "But for different reasons."

And with that, as Lancelot looked up in shock, and Gwaine shielded his face to protect his eyes from the dust, the great dragon flexed its powerful muscles, unfurled its bat-like wings, and thrust away into the blue sky, beating strongly until it was soon nothing but a speck on the horizon.

Gwaine looked at Lancelot sideways, unsure what to say.

"What do you think he meant by that?" he wondered.

"I don't know," Lancelot said, though in truth his mind was focussed on one thing only, and she was before him lying prone on the grass in the summer sunshine.

She felt odd, there was no other way to describe it. The darkness all around made her disorientated, bereft of senses to tell her anything of her surroundings. She was also disconcertingly aware that although she was there, she wasn't actually there: her body was not actually a body, but her own mind's projection. But she quickly wiped that thought away, deciding it was just too odd.

Instead she decided to focus on her purpose. Somehow, Gwen hoped that wherever she was, Merlin was there too. It stood to reason after all. Where else would the dragon have sent her but somewhere she could communicate with her friend, talk him round, bring him back. Why then was she in a black hole with no one but herself for company, her voice the only sound to be heard? Oh well then. Might as well make it heard.

"Merlin!"

Bu no sooner had she started shouting, then she silenced herself. She'd heard something. Carefully, she began to turn her head, trying to catch the sound again. It was like – like a voice, like someone calling. She was concentrating on it so much that she didn't even notice the darkness begin to fade, dissolving into a sort of grey fog that began to swirl around her feet then rise inexorably upwards.

She finally saw it, and stumbled backwards, before realising that the ground beneath her feet had changed as well. It had been solid, for all that she hadn't been able to actually see it. Now it was spongy somehow, springy, and she saw grass, smelt it suddenly, her senses bombarded with new sensations as the world sprung into being around her in a rush.

She was outside, but the mist meant that she could see hardly anything. The ground was definitely grassy and wet, soaking the bottom of her skirt quickly. All around her she could hear sounds as well, cries of men, clashing of metal on metal, the call of frightened horses.

Gasping, she turned quickly, trying to get her bearings. But it was impossible. The fog was just too thick and unyielding.

Suddenly behind her, there was a great cry, and she whipped round, just in time to see a man in armour with a cold, bloodied face fixed into a snarl, charging her full tilt, a spear aimed straight at her breast.

She started, crying out in shock, and shut her eyes on instinct as the man closed the distance between them, and the fatal blow seemed assured.

Then.

Nothing.

There was no pain, no impact.

She opened her eyes quickly, and was amazed to see that she hadn't been injured. The man must have stopped before he reached her; changed his mind perhaps. But then her eyes tracked down to the floor, and it wasn't grass anymore. Flagstones. Grey flagstones. In fact, she was fairly certain that she recognised those…

She looked up. She was in the great hall.

Gwen's hands flew to her mouth as she caught sight of Leon and King Uther close in conversation by the throne. Then her brow furrowed in confusion. What was Uther doing out of bed? How had he recovered so quickly?

She was amazed they hadn't seen her either, though grateful for that as well, given that such a sudden appearance would have roused suspicions of magic from a man like Uther. But it was as if she wasn't in the room. She was used to being invisible (she was a servant after all) but it was strange that neither of the men even vaguely glanced in her direction.

The door suddenly was thrown wide, and there was Arthur. Gwen's spirits rose instantly at the sight of the man she loved. But there was something wrong. He was angry, his face was livid, and Gwen frowned as she tried to understand what was happening.

"Arthur, where have you been? I've had search parties out looking for you" Uther said to him, looking relieved. "Arthur?"

"I know what you did to my mother."

"What are you doing here?"

"Leave us, no one is to enter."

"Gwen, I said what are you doing here?"

The use of her name drew her attention finally, and she turned to see Merlin standing beside her. He was looking just the same as always did, the same clothes, the same hair, the same face. Though, it was a face that was marred by an expression of annoyance.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, and ignoring his expression, rushed forwards to give him a hug, which he allowed briefly, before pushing her back.

"Why are you here?" he asked again, looking at her intensely.

"I – I came to help," she said, hurt by his reaction, or rather his lack of reaction. She'd expected relief, happiness, something. Not this.

"I don't need your help," he said plainly, then he stepped back slightly and seemed to be looking around up at the ceiling of the hall. "I told you I didn't need her help!" he shouted, angry now as he looked around at nothing.

Gwen followed his gaze, confused and slightly unnerved. "Who are you talking to?" she wondered quietly.

"Hm?" he looked back at her. "Oh, the dragon." Merlin shrugged. "He's gone now anyway."

"The dragon? You can talk to the dragon?"

He nodded quickly. "I was talking to him as soon as he came close enough."

"How?"

He fixed her with a look, and ignored the question. "How did you get him to come?"

She blushed slightly under his scrutiny, still unsure of herself. "We went to the druids. They gave me something called a dragon stone and they said it would call the dragon if I placed it on your chest. And it did," she smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. "He came to help you, Merlin. He sent me here to help you. I need to take you back with me."

"Gwen," his face softened, and he took a step towards her, reaching down to catch both her hands in his, holding them up affectionately. "I told you, I don't need your help. And in any case, I don't want to go back."

"But…" Gwen started to protest, then broke off as a huge roar reverberated off the walls behind her, and she turned quickly, to see Arthur lunging at his father with a sword, Uther parrying with a skill learned from 20 years of such battles.

Gwen gasped, genuinely shocked by what she was seeing. In her excitement at finding Merlin, she'd forgotten all about being in the great hall with Uther and Arthur. Now here they were knocking into each other.

She shrank back. "Shouldn't we try and stop them?" she hissed to Merlin, as he stood beside her, an impassionate expression on his face.

His dark eyes watched the two royals thrust, dodge and block. "There's no point," he said quietly. "The outcome is as certain as the morning."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this moment has already happened," he explained. "This is the day Arthur found out he was born of magic; that it was Uther's fault."

"What?" she turned to him, shocked. "Arthur was born of magic?"

He nodded determinedly. "He was pretty angry about it. But anyway, this was all – " he waved his hand vaguely: "- two years ago now." He was watching the scene play out before them carefully, as the two men battled up and down the great hall.

"So, this the past, and not the future?" Gwen wondered.

That drew Merlin's attention. "Why did you think it was the future?"

"Oh, it's just…"

The door bust open and in ran Merlin, a younger Merlin, who shouted at Arthur to stop as he threatened his father with certain death at the point of his sword.

"You stopped him!" Gwen said, aghast. "You stopped Arthur from killing Uther."

Merlin shrugged. "One of many things I may live long enough to regret," he said. "Anyway, I've seen enough."

He walked away towards the wall, and Gwen, with one final look at the tableaux of Merlin, Arthur and Uther, hurried after him. He reached the wall, and put his hand out to a door handle (for a door she was fairly certain had never been there) and pulled it firmly open, stepping through into bright sunshine, Gwen crowding his heels.

"But that's just it," she was saying to him. "You won't live long enough to regret it, Merlin, not if you stay here. The dragon said you've only got – " she broke off in awe at the sight of the sea before her. It was a blazing hot day, and the waves were breaking gently on the stony shore, the sunlight reflecting dazzlingly into their faces.

Merlin was standing with his eyes shut now, seemingly basking in the sunshine. Trying not to be distracted, she walked determinedly up to him.

"The dragon said you had to wake before sunset," she said. "Or Albion would fall."

Merlin let out a soft snort that might have been laughter. "He's always saying stuff like that," he said. "I wouldn't worry about it Gwen."

"But he's right," she insisted. "Since Arthur brought you back from the Crystal Cave, you've been getting weaker and weaker every day. Now we can't even get you to wake up. You're dying Merlin. You have to come back with me."

He didn't answer for a few seconds, and then calmly asked: "How do you know about the Crystal Cave?"

Again she became slightly flustered. "I – um – I heard it called that, that's where you were, wasn't it, it's where Alvarr put you?"

He didn't answer again, still standing with his eyes shut in the sun's rays.

"Merlin I know that you can hear me."

"Of course I can hear you," he sighed. "I'm ignoring you. I'm not deaf."

She raised her eyebrows at that one, and let out a small gasp of incredulity at his language and his tone. This wasn't the Merlin she knew.

She glanced along the beach, then narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of something. "What's that?"

He sighed, and opened his eyes finally, his gaze following hers. "Arthur about to lay down his life to save me," he said, seeing himself and Arthur sitting at a low table, two goblets laid out before them, glinting hazily in the sunshine. "Funny how destiny works out." And he turned away.

"Arthur laid down his life for you?"

"It was his own fault," Merlin shrugged, uninterested. "He killed the unicorn after all."

"But he laid down his life for you," she turned to him, reaching for his arm. "It's for Arthur you have to come back, in for nothing else. You mean everything to him. He'd never be the same without you."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face, but he hid it quickly "He'll learn to live without me."

"No," Gwen insisted. "This – whatever it is you're doing, you've got to stop it and wake up. We all need you."

At that he became angry, with a suddenness that was like a wave breaking on a rock. "I'm sick of being needed!" he exclaimed. "I'm sick of having the destiny of the kingdom on my head, Gwen."

"And this is better?" she demanded, determined not to be put off. "You're just watching life here, you're not taking part. These are just images. It's not real."

"I have things to do here," he corrected her bitterly. "I can't come back."

"Things like what?" she asked. "Things that are more important than us? Than the kingdom? Than Arthur?"

At the mention of Arthur, emotion filled his face again, and this time he couldn't hide it at easily. He stepped towards her, grasping her arms. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Neither of them seemed to notice that a rain had begun to fall, slowly drenching them, making innumerable ripples on the sea beside them, a sea that became a lake.

"Then tell me!" she demanded. "Explain to me what's happening, and I'll try to help you."

"You can't," he insisted. "I have to find a way to deal with this myself." He waved his hand vaguely, but then he stopped when he saw where they were.

Gwen also suddenly realised that the scenery had changed so dramatically. Trees around them dripped, their sad leaves fluttering and twirling in the onslaught of rain. Merlin still had hold of her arm and suddenly she was aware that he was trembling.

Then she saw them, two figures by the lake, one clearly Merlin holding a young women wearing what Gwen thought looked suspiciously like one of Morgana's dresses. He was leaning over her tenderly. She watched for a few seconds, seeing him lift the women to his chest, hugging her, sobs of anguish rolling towards them across the muddy landscape.

"Who is she?" Gwen wondered, her heart melting at the sight, but also suddenly painfully aware that she was intruding on an extremely private moment in his life. So private he'd shared it with none of them.

She looked up into his face, but he turned away sharply, and the scene vanished. Gwen heard a scream, and whipped round as fog surrounded her once more. She could smell blood, and hear swords clashing on swords. Then a man charged at her out of the darkness, spear aimed at her chest, and she screamed…

But again the blow never came, and she found herself back in darkness. Alone. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she collapsed onto the hard ground, and silently began to weep.

TBC