A/N: Thank you Hodophile-Sandhiller, emrysmorgan, Buckhunter, GuestM, Guest, pallysAramisRios, SnidgetHex, and 29Pieces for reviewing!

No Mordred here. I have not watched season 5 (therefore it does not exist for me). But that does mean I can't ever write any characters exclusive to it since I wouldn't be able to properly capture them.
Yes to the Airbender and the hand gestures from Dr. Strange (which were also used in Shadow and Bone). The shadow magic turning people into monsters is also from Shadow and Bone (which is actually the only recent show I have borrowed from. The others are several years old...I'm with you, Guest, I am not impressed with the current trends in television). More nuggets to come. XD

Chapter 2

Lancelot threw his staff up to block a blow, but his opponent slid hers away from his and twirled it around, ducking low to knock his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard for the umpteenth time that day. Or hour. It was impossible to mark the passage of time when there was no sun in the sky. But then, time probably didn't matter to the dead.

Lancelot wearily pushed himself up with a grunt yet again. He'd learned early on that his mentor, Evaine, didn't take lying down during training very well. She had been pushing him hard since the moment he arrived, training nearly nonstop. Again, the dead didn't really need to stop for sleep. Lancelot idly wondered if one day he'd be able to tell people the old saying "I'll sleep when I'm dead" was wrong.

He was also feeling incredibly disheartened. He'd been a skilled knight back when he was alive, but here he was like a brand new novice who couldn't keep his feet about him.

"You're thinking like a mortal," Evaine said, adopting a ready stance again.

"I am one," he pointed out.

"Not anymore. You are unbound by the limits of the flesh. Should you choose to, you can reach out and connect with every living essence around you, feel the shift in the air before an enemy strikes, see time as the drops suspended in motion and move between them."

"Won't I be bound by the flesh again when I'm sent back?" he couldn't help but ask somewhat petulantly.

"But your mind will not be."

She attacked again without warning, and Lancelot struggled to fend off her strikes as she drove him backward, until her staff caught his and she forced his down to the ground. With his body left wide open, she spun with a roundhouse kick to his chest that sent him crashing to the dirt once more.

Evaine stood over him. "Again."

Hours after the battle had been won, when the wounded had been treated and those still on their feet could finally take some rest, Merlin and the other knights of Arthur's inner circle stood in the king's tent, discussing the miraculous return of their friend. The knight in question wasn't among them.

"Can we be certain it's really him?" Gwaine asked.

"Who else would it be?" Elyan responded.

"I don't know, but people don't usually just come back from the dead."

"They do if it's magic," Percival piped in.

"What if it's a ruse of Morgana's?" Leon said. "To get close to Arthur."

"Lancelot decimated her army," Merlin pointed out. "Not to mention that anyone who wanted to get close to Arthur wouldn't use magic so openly."

But Merlin didn't know what to think either. Lancelot was so…different. The magic was one thing, but the way he single-handedly defeated Morgana's forces…it was a little frightening. Merlin wanted to believe his friend was back, more than anything, but one could never be too cautious when sorcery was involved.

"His story is also…something," Arthur said. "Are we to believe his warning about these final battles and the fate of the world?"

"It does sound a bit out there," Gwaine echoed.

"Isn't it a good thing, though," Percival added, "if the gods wanted us to have a champion?"

"A champion with magic," Leon pointed out.

Merlin internally huffed. If only they knew that Camelot already had a champion who'd been using magic to protect them, for years. Kilgharrah had always told Merlin it was his destiny to protect Arthur and Camelot so that Arthur could bring about the great age of a reunited Albion; so who had sent Lancelot back and what was coming? Merlin needed to speak with the Great Dragon.

"I'll talk to Lancelot," he volunteered. "I knew him best. I can try to get a sense if it's really him or not."

Arthur nodded. "I want to believe it's him. But…be careful."

Merlin just nodded in return and slipped out of the tent. Before he talked to Lancelot, though, he needed more information, so he snuck away from the camp and toward the cover of the White Mountains where he summoned Kilgharrah with the command of a dragonlord. It was dark enough, hopefully no one on watch back at the camp would see a great shadow swooping down on the mountains.

But Kilgharrah came in from the other direction and landed on a rock outcropping out of sight. "Merlin," he greeted. "I see you were once again victorious against the witch."

"We had a lot of help. Lancelot has been sent back from the dead. He defeated Morgana's army."

The dragon's eye ridges furrowed.

"You didn't know about that?" Merlin went on. "He says he was sent back to fight for Arthur and Camelot, that a series of battles are coming that will decide the fate of the world, not just Albion."

Kilgharrah reeled back, looking surprised for once. "I felt a disturbance in the fabric of the world," he said, almost to himself. "But I never imagined it was this. It's not time."

"Time for what?"

"The end of days, the breaking of the Seals of Fate. This is grave indeed, Merlin."

"So, Lancelot is telling the truth?"

"I cannot say. Destiny has been unraveled. I cannot see the path ahead." Kilgharrah gave himself a small shake. "If this is indeed happening, Merlin, then there is no guidance I can give you. Only that your power will be tested sooner than you think. Take care, young warlock."

With that, the Great Dragon flapped his wings and ascended into the sky. Merlin sputtered soundlessly, wanting to call him back, but if Kilgharrah didn't have answers for him, then it wouldn't do any good. So on that ominous note, Merlin turned and headed back to the camp. If Lancelot's story was true, then that meant it was truly him, back from the dead.

Merlin hurried off to find him.

Lancelot stood under a lone tree several yards from the edge of camp. It gave him a decent vantage point from which to keep watch while not drawing attention to himself. The enemy soldiers that had survived had quickly fled the area, retreating to their homeland. There was no sign of Morgana. Lancelot didn't expect her to launch another attack so quickly after her recent defeat, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

He flicked his gaze over the encampment, aware of the looks those on the outskirts were giving him. They were unnerved by his presence, and not just because of his return from the dead or that he'd used magic. Lancelot knew there was an otherness about him now, a result of his time in the hidden valley. Time had passed differently there. He wasn't sure how long it had been for everyone here in Camelot, though it certainly didn't look as though they had aged much, but for Lancelot it had been one hundred years. One hundred years preparing him for this, preparing him to be a knight again. But one that stood apart.

He turned away from the stares and cast his gaze out at the night. He should have been concentrating on the sounds in the darkness: the heartbeats of small animals in their burrows, the pulse of water through the veins of plants, the whisper of the wind. But other thoughts were intruding upon the tranquility of his mind.

He had almost forgotten them, his friends. Arthur, Percival, Elyan, Leon, Gwaine…Merlin. Lancelot had kept them in his heart and mind all throughout his training, holding onto them because they were his cause, the reason he was doing all this.

But they had become an abstract cause, an end goal. And now that Lancelot was back and had seen them in the flesh, solid and real before him…it had awoken feelings from that past life before the Veil. Lancelot had missed them for a long time in the beginning, before the substance of those memories had faded over time. To be near them again yet still removed…Lancelot somehow missed them more now than when he'd been away.

He heard the slight crinkle of grass under soft footfalls approaching from behind, and his heart warmed as he recognized the essence.

"Lancelot?" Merlin called.

He turned around and smiled. "Merlin, it's so good to see you."

"You too." Merlin drew to a stop and shifted his weight uncertainly.

Lancelot didn't blame him for his reticence, though it did make his heart ache with sadness. "How have you been?" he asked.

"Fine." He shrugged one shoulder casually. "Still saving Camelot every other week."

Lancelot's mouth quirked. "Still under Arthur's nose? I'm only guessing given his reception of my little magic display."

Merlin visibly relaxed, as though Lancelot had passed some sort of test. "That was hardly little," he said with a grin. "So…you die and come back with magic."

"My teachers were adamant it was an important tool to have. Even though I tried to tell them Camelot already had a capable sorcerer."

"For some big battles that are coming."

"Yes."

"Well, can you give us any details? What exactly is coming?"

Lancelot grimaced apologetically. "Unfortunately, I don't know anything specific. All I know is that for me to be sent back now, the first seal must have been broken."

"Kilgharrah mentioned Seals of Fate. What are they?"

Lancelot shrugged. "I don't know that either. I'm sorry, Merlin, my task isn't to prepare you for what's coming, but to fight for Arthur and Albion when it does."

Merlin canted a dubious look at him. "And you just went along with that?"

"To protect Arthur and you? Yes."

Merlin huffed in apparent exasperation, but then his expression softened. "I'm really glad you're back. After you…" His voice broke off and his eyes glistened with emotion.

"I'm sorry I left you like that," Lancelot said. "But I'm not sorry I died for you."

Merlin shook his head, trying to swallow back tears. "Just don't do it again."

Lancelot smiled. "Don't worry, we have a lot of work to do."

A beat of silence passed between them, and then Merlin gestured back toward the camp. "Well, come on, then. Let's not keep the others waiting."

Lancelot faltered at that. "It's probably best I stay on the perimeter for now."

"What? Why? Arthur's accepted you back, even with the magic. I mean, yes, we were still a little unsure whether it was really you, but obviously you are. You. So come on."

Lancelot still hesitated, but that part of him that had yearned for his friends for so long prodded him into following Merlin.

The four knights of Arthur's inner circle were gathered around a campfire outside Arthur's tent. Their conversation ceased as soon as they spotted Lancelot approaching, and he could see the guardedness in their eyes.

Merlin greeted them all with a cheerful smile. "Lancelot is back from the dead; the least you could do is offer him some food."

That seemed to break the tension, as though they had just been waiting for Merlin's confirmation that Lancelot was who he claimed to be. Elyan scooted over on the log he was sitting on to make room, and Lancelot carefully took a seat.

"Nice outfit," Gwaine remarked.

Lancelot's face flushed warm. By the time he'd been ready to be sent back, it hadn't even occurred to him that his clothes would stand out. "I'm afraid I didn't choose the wardrobe for my return."

"So where exactly have you been?" Elyan asked. "We thought you were dead."

"I was, up until a few hours ago. My soul was taken to a haven for fallen warriors within the spirit realms where they spend their entire afterlife training. Since I was dead, there was no need for food or rest. My teachers pushed me hard, so that I would be ready when it was time to return."

Gwaine snorted. "Sounds worse than Arthur's training sessions."

"It sounds like Lancelot could teach us all a thing or two when we get back to Camelot," Arthur said, stepping out of his tent to come join them.

Lancelot's chest twinged oddly at the thought of seeing home again—and was it really his home anymore? He'd spent so much time training, preparing for battle, that he'd had no time to think about the other things he would face when he rejoined the land of the living. Not the least of which was that he wasn't exactly mortal anymore, though he didn't want to drop that revelation on everyone just yet. They already had a lot to process.

Leon handed him a plate of food and Lancelot picked up a small piece of meat. He hadn't tasted food in so long. He tentatively placed it in his mouth and chewed. It tasted strange, but perhaps he just needed to get used to it again. Or perhaps it was because his body had been infused with magic for the resurrection, and physical needs like sleep and nourishment wouldn't be needed as frequently as when he'd last been alive.

He picked at the food and changed the subject. "How have you all been?"

The knights shared minor shrugs.

"Not much has changed," Percival said.

"Except that Arthur and Gwen finally married," Elyan put in.

Lancelot looked over at Arthur with a smile. "That's wonderful. I'm happy for you both."

He remembered when he'd once had feelings for Guinevere, but that was a lifetime ago now, and the pain of that past was nothing more than a distant memory.

Arthur nodded his appreciation of the sentiment, and then his expression turned serious. "Lancelot, you mentioned some great battles with the fate of the world? What can you tell us about them?"

"Nothing, unfortunately," he replied, setting his plate on the ground. "I was not given any information about the individual Seals of Fate that will be broken or what they will unleash, only that I would be sent back once the first one had." He gave the knights a sober look. "Which means the end of days has already been set in motion. But the world is not doomed, or else I would not be here to fight by your side to save it. I don't know what's coming, only that I would have not been sent back if there was not a chance that mankind, that Camelot and Albion, will endure."

There was a round of silence at his heavy pronouncement.

Elyan cleared his throat. "I don't suppose you could teach us all magic?"

The other knights shot him a variety of sharp looks at that, but Elyan just shrugged.

"What? If things are going to be as bad as Lancelot says, we might need it."

Lancelot shook his head ruefully. "If there was time, I would, but it took me decades to master the wielding of the elements."

Now all of them were throwing furrowed looks of confusion at him.

"Decades," Leon repeated. "It's only been a few years."

Lancelot nodded. "I gathered as much. But time passed differently in the afterlife."

"How long were you there?" Percival asked, looking as though he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

"A hundred years," Lancelot replied.

Everyone gaped at him for several long moments. Merlin looked contemplatively pained at the idea.

"Well," Gwaine finally broke the taut silence. "You look good for your age."

Lancelot stared at him for a moment before cracking a smile. The rest of the tension eased and Lancelot was bombarded with more questions about what the afterlife was like. His heart ached at the warm familiarity as he was reminded once again of just how much he'd missed these dear friends.