A/N: Thank you Buckhunter, GuestM, Guest, pallysAramisRios, and SnidgetHex for reviewing! Team Camelot, yes! Saying "Merlin, Arthur, and the knights" does get tedious lol, especially in story summaries.

Chapter 2

The stream was just outside the glade, as the goddess had said. Lancelot followed it out of the woodland and into open fields of yellow grass with red poppies. There was no sun in this realm, only a light grey sky like mist that seemed suffused with pale light. It wasn't anything like the shadowy void of the Veil, but Lancelot still kept his guard up as he walked beside the crystalline water. It stretched as far as he could see, and he wondered just how far he had to go to find his destination.

Light glinted beneath the surface, and suddenly glowing orbs were rising up out of the water. Lancelot pulled up short as a face appeared in the floating bubble.

"Sir Lancelot," the musical voice greeted.

He relaxed, relieved and surprised to come across the Vilia here. "Hello," he replied. "I wasn't sure there were any friendly beings to be found in this place," he admitted.

The face smiled. "There are good and bad, just as in the mortal realm. We are pleased and honored to meet you. We've heard of you from our sisters in your world."

"Oh." He didn't know what to make of spirits talking about him to each other. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you too."

The face in the orb glanced down at the staff in his hand. "We wish you success on your quest, Sir Lancelot. The fate of everything is at stake."

"So I've been told," he murmured. "Thank you."

With reluctance, he bid the Vilia farewell and resumed his trek.

Despite the resemblance to the waking world, this "dreamscape" was definitely other in nature, a strange amalgamation of features, like trees made of stone and knolls of grass like boulders. As Lancelot passed one, it suddenly exploded into hundreds of tiny winged insects. He jolted in surprise and threw an arm up protectively as they flitted over his head and away. He exhaled loudly afterward and gave the other mounds a wide berth.

Despite the startling surprise, there were a lot of wondrous things that tickled his curiosity and desire to explore, but he doggedly resisted the temptation and stuck close to the river. That was supposedly a safe path, since it would lead him to his destination. To stray from it could be dangerous, and Lancelot was already nervous just by the fact that this was a kind of spirit world he now walked in. Again.

He wondered what had happened at the Druid table, if he had simply vanished into thin air, pulled from one realm into the other. Although the goddess Coventina had mentioned this was the realm of dreams, so perhaps his body was still back in the waking world and he was merely asleep. What must the others be thinking, in any case? They'd have no way of knowing what had happened to him, and he doubted the goddess would make a visit to the physical world to inform them.

There wasn't anything Lancelot could do about that, though. The only thing he could do was complete this quest as quickly as possible so he could hopefully wake up and return to his friends.

Following the stream was easy enough, until he came across an obstacle: a bramble of thorny vines completely blocking the area ahead. They weren't any ordinary brambles, either—the stems were moving, rapidly shifting between frozen icicles and sprouting leaves, as though the two seasons were literally chasing each other up and down the tangled ivy. Lancelot considered it for a moment. The brambles were growing right up to the edge of the bank and even further in the opposite direction, almost like a wall hedge. He shifted the staff to his other hand and drew his sword, then hefted it up to swing down in an attempt to simply hack through the plant.

The blade sliced through several shoots, but just as it did, a frozen vine lashed out and snapped itself across the back of Lancelot's hand. The frigid touch burned and he reeled backward with a yelp, dropping his sword. Frost immediately began to spread across his hand, tightening the skin and muscles. Lancelot hissed and tucked the appendage under his armpit, rubbing frantically against the inside of his tunic for warmth.

Several vines slithered out from the bramble to curl over his sword, and Lancelot lunged forward to snatch it up. One of them snapped itself around the blackthorn staff, trying to tug it out of his grip. Lancelot scrambled backward, holding tightly to both weapons until the vines stretched taut and then recoiled once he was out of reach.

He backtracked several more steps and then dropped his sword again when his hand spasmed. It was still chilled to the bone, and he tucked it under his arm again. How serious was frostbite in a dream world? It certainly hurt.

He didn't know what to do now. He had to keep following the river, but it was clear that plant wasn't going to let him pass. He automatically glanced at the staff in his other hand but quickly dismissed the idea of using it. Picking up his sword, he sheathed it in its scabbard and then considered his options. He might be better off crossing the stream.

Frost was spreading from the brambles trailing in the water across the surface, so Lancelot backtracked a bit further upstream just to be safe. He found a calm place and tested the water's temperature. It wasn't too cold, so he waded through it to the other side. When he approached the spot where the brambles were, he moved cautiously, one hand on the hilt of his sword. But they stayed on their side of the stream, much to his relief, and he was able to get past them unmolested.

After rubbing at his hand for a while, the ice burn finally soothed away and it didn't look like there was any permanent damage, thankfully. It made him wonder what other kind of dangers he might come across in this place, though things were quiet for a bit as he continued on his way.

Until a figure appeared up ahead right in his path. Lancelot slowed his pace as he drew closer, eyeing the old woman dressed in shredded black robes warily. Long gray hair trailed in wisps around a wizened face, and deep crow's feet pulled at the flesh around beady eyes.

"I'll take that staff," she said without preamble.

Lancelot shifted slightly, angling the staff behind his body and resting his other hand on the hilt of his sword. "I am on an errand for the goddess Coventina," he replied with more confidence than he was actually feeling.

The old hag scoffed. "She thinks a mere mortal can keep me from the staff? She sent you on a fool's errand." She took a menacing step forward and her voice deepened along with the shadows around her. "Give me the staff."

Lancelot drew his sword and held his ground. The woman laughed and spread her arms wide. The folds of her robes rippled like ink, and in the next instant, multiple shadows burst out from them. They swarmed over Lancelot, twisting and spiraling until they'd swallowed him whole and he couldn't see anything. He swung his sword at them, but the blade merely swished through their amorphous shapes. The cloying brume closed in around him, smothering his face and cutting off all breath. Lancelot fell to his knees, choking and suffocating.

Then a bright light pierced the darkness, followed by another and another, until they had cut several swaths through the shadows. The inky blackness veered up and away to attack the darting orbs swirling around them.

One of the bubbles zinged toward Lancelot, a harried face reflected within its rippling surface. "Run! We will hold off the Morrigan."

Lancelot staggered to his feet, sword and staff clutched tightly in hand, and turned to flee, away from the stream and into the nearby woodland as light and dark fought it out behind him.

.o.0.o.

Arthur leaned against the wall of the alcove, arms crossed and fighting the urge to pace. There wasn't any room for it, and the rest of the knights were fidgety enough. Everyone was waiting impatiently for Lancelot to wake from this entranced sleep. It had been over an hour now.

The curtain swished softly as Rodan slipped inside. He cast a quick look at Lancelot still slumbering before asking, "Do you need anything?"

"I need my knight to wake up," Arthur snapped.

"I'm afraid I have no control over that," the Druid replied regretfully. He canted his gaze toward Lancelot again, mouth pursed ruminatively. "I have been blessed with communing with the goddess twice, but neither occasion lasted this long. I wonder what they have to speak about in such length."

Arthur snorted under his breath.

"Then, this is unusual?" Leon put in, brows knitted together in concern. "Should we be worried?"

Rodan shook his head. "The goddess is benevolent. I assure you, you have no reason to fear for your friend."

Arthur scowled and turned away from the man. His platitudes were empty and meaningless until Lancelot could wake up and tell them all himself that he was fine.

"Thank you," Merlin finally said quietly, and Rodan nodded and left.

Arthur turned in place, agitation making it difficult to remain still any longer. He shouldn't have come to the Druids. He never should have trusted magic users. Time and time again they turned on people. Arthur had tried to make peace with them and this was what he got.

"How is he?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

Merlin shook his head glumly. "The same."

"We should go back to Camelot. Gaius might have something that can counter this."

Merlin jumped to his feet. "What about the treaty?"

"This is a pretty clear indication of what I should do with the treaty," Arthur rejoined, gesturing sharply at their friend.

"Just wait a little longer," Merlin pleaded. "Lancelot isn't in any danger, and the treaty could save countless lives in the future."

"Isn't in any danger that we can see," Gwaine corrected.

"Exactly," Arthur agreed. "We have no idea what's happening to him. Or if he might suddenly take a turn for the worse. You really want to risk that?"

Merlin's expression twisted with anguish. Arthur knew he had a good heart and cared for the good of all people, but he never thought Merlin would put Lancelot in jeopardy.

"Lancelot wouldn't want the treaty abandoned on his account," Percival pointed out. "Especially if he does wake up and everything's fine. Maybe we should see how this plays out."

Arthur sighed. He did understand the necessity of diplomacy, but it had its limits. He cast a questioning gaze around at the others.

Gwaine's jaw was set in firm resolution. "We shouldn't trust someone who wasn't upfront with us about this."

"I agree," Elyan said.

"The treaty does have significant ramifications if we don't go through with it," Leon put in, erring on the side of diplomacy.

Arthur exhaled heavily. So they were divided on what to do.

Lancelot suddenly made a small noise and twitched. The rest of them straightened sharply, expecting him to wake. But he didn't. He made another distressed sound before falling utterly still once more.

They all shared silent looks at that. Arthur's jaw tightened. He only had Rodan's word that this "vision quest" was harmless, but what good was the word of a Druid who had lured them into a false sense of mutual trust and respect? Maybe he didn't intend for ill to befall Lancelot, but that didn't excuse the behavior that had let this situation happen. And even if he did wake up without incident, how could they move forward from here with that trust on shaky ground once more?

Arthur didn't have any answers. All he knew was if Lancelot didn't wake up soon, Arthur would be going on the warpath.