A/N: Thank you GuestM, Buckhunter, PadrePedro, Guest, SnidgetHex, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing!

Chapter 6

The stream left the arid landscape and began to flow fully again. Every staggering step along its bank jarred Lancelot's myriad wounds, and he wanted nothing more than to simply sit down, but at least he was keeping his feet, albeit with Merlin supporting half his weight. Then the water up ahead split abruptly, cascading around the outside of what looked like shimmering bands of light bending and refracting the scenery around it.

"That looks like a fold in space," Lancelot said, relieved to have finally found it but also nervous about having to step through.

"Do you want me to try taking the staff in?" Merlin asked.

Lancelot shook his head. "If the goddesses can't even pass between these pockets, then I doubt a great and powerful warlock can." He drew his shoulders back and shifted his weight onto his own bearing. "It has to be me."

He turned to Merlin, hesitating for a moment before he took the blackthorn staff from him. He tensed, but nothing stabbed him this time. He then turned and began to approach the coruscating waves of air. Merlin followed a few steps behind, ever a supportive presence.

Lancelot faltered again at the threshold. It reminded him too much of the Veil, and while he knew he wasn't supposed to die by walking through, the memory still gave him pause.

He took another fortifying breath, trying to draw up the nerve to take that first step. Yet before he could, a shadow tentacle struck out of nowhere, lashing around his leg and yanking it out from under him. He pitched to the ground hard and couldn't hold back a cry of pain as the impact radiated through his wounded arm. Merlin gave a shout and dove forward, grabbing a hold of him as the tentacle tried to drag him away. Lancelot clung to the staff with the desperate intent of not using it, even as the appendage coiled tighter about his leg and was dragging Merlin across the ground with him.

Merlin thrust a hand out and blasted the thing with magic. It squealed and slithered off Lancelot's leg to retreat, but there were more advancing.

"Go!" Merlin yelled at him.

Lancelot didn't have time to muster his courage anymore; he staggered to his feet and ran for the fold. A gust of wind buffeted him for a split second, and then it was like the air was peeling away from him in a thin film as he stumbled into a center of calm. Everything was still in this narrow space, like the eye of a storm, while shadows and colors swirled and eddied around it.

Lancelot looked around, though there wasn't much to see. A small patch of earth lay beneath his feet, solid in a way the rest of the dreamscape hadn't been, though he couldn't begin to describe how that was.

He looked at the blackthorn staff, then at the ground. Gripping it in both hands, he drove the bottom end into the soil and wedged it in as tight as he could. He then stepped back and waited. The staff remained rooted where it was. Lancelot wasn't sure if something was supposed to happen or whether that was it, his task was finished. It felt a tad anticlimactic, save for the fact that Merlin was outside probably still battling the Morrigan's shadow monsters.

So Lancelot drew his sword and plunged back through the fold.

It was chaos. Merlin was magically blasting several shadow limbs that were attacking him, but for each one he blew to smithereens, another took its place. Lancelot raised his sword with both wounded arms and charged, hacking at the tentacles and amputating the appendages. Shrieking at the arrival of steel, they shifted to amorphous shapes and swarmed Lancelot's head, trying to suffocate him like the first time.

Merlin shouted something, and rays of light cut through the cloying brume like blades of fire. The shadows retreated and took solid form again, then renewed their assault once more.

Lancelot sliced through any that came near him, but then he pivoted and found himself face to face with Morrigan. She was bowed and haggard, half her face melted between crow and human. She shot a hand out and seized his wounded arm, squeezing so tightly the exploding pain brought him to his knees. Her other hand grabbed his throat, half-formed fingers and claws clutching his neck.

"I know where you put it," she hissed. "Go in there and bring it back out."

"No," he gritted out, struggling to lift his sword with his free hand, but the wounds in his palm pulled at the effort and his barely mended muscles lacked the strength.

Her eyes blazed with glacial fury. "Do it, or you will never leave this place. I will snap your spine in two and sever the link to your body. And then I will make sure your soul remains trapped in this realm where my crows will feast upon your flesh for eternity."

Spots burst across his vision as her talons tightened around his throat, cutting off his air or whatever passed for it in this dream world.

Merlin's voice rumbled like thunder, and Lancelot felt an invisible force slam into the Morrigan and throw her backward. He pitched forward as her grip was torn from his throat, catching himself on his arms and gasping.

Morrigan was up on her feet an instant later and throwing magic back at Merlin. He somehow deflected it and threw a fireball at her in response. It crashed against her chest and knocked her down again. Merlin stormed toward her, eyes glowing with fulvous intensity, a veritable tempest of power and righteous rage. He wasn't Merlin in that moment, but Emrys. And Lancelot could only watch in awe as his friend bore down on a goddess.

But he was distracted by something cold and slippery coiling around his ankle, and Lancelot flipped over as a shadow tentacle tried to grab him. He flailed for his sword, ignoring the strain in his arm as he hacked off the head. The appendage squealed and retracted, but more were lumbering across the ground straight for him. Lancelot stumbled upright, prepared to face them.

But Merlin noticed, and of course he turned to come to Lancelot's aid. Maybe that was the Morrigan's intent, for as soon as Merlin had focused his attention on the shadows and blasted them away, the dark goddess hit him with a burst of magic that sent Merlin flying several feet through the air and landing with a loud thud on the ground. The shadows he'd just vanquished swam together into a puddle of ink and washed over Merlin, pinning him where he lay.

"The great and powerful Emrys," Morrigan spat as she stalked toward him. "This is not your realm."

Merlin grunted as the shadows swelled up over his mouth and nose, his eyes blowing wide.

Lancelot, momentarily forgotten, it seemed, gripped his sword in both hands and shuffled toward the goddess. He wasn't exactly being stealthy with his labored breathing, but the Morrigan apparently didn't consider him a threat, for she merely turned casually to face him, perhaps to bat him down like a gnat again. Lancelot didn't give her a chance and plunged his sword into her stomach.

This time it was her expression that went slack in shock, and she glanced down in apparent surprise. Lancelot didn't know whether to be surprised as well that he could wound her, but he gave the blade a sharp twist before yanking it out. The movement upset his balance and he dropped to one knee. Morrigan staggered back as black blood poured out from the wound. Then with a horrendous screech, she morphed back into a giant crow and flew away.

Her Stygian shadows restraining Merlin turned to smoke and vanished. Lancelot crawled toward him, finally collapsing on his side and grasping urgently at his friend's shirt.

Merlin coughed and choked for several moments before falling back against the ground, panting. He lolled his head toward Lancelot and croaked, "Thanks."

Lancelot smiled back weakly. "Can we wake up now?" He'd been hoping completing the quest would mean an automatic waking. Unless the Morrigan had severed them from being able to return to their bodies.

Merlin reached over and clasped Lancelot's hand. "Hold on."

Lancelot suddenly felt himself getting pulled into a current, lights swirling around him like between the folds. But he could still feel Merlin's hand solid in his, and he held tightly as they careened through a kaleidoscope of colors. Just before they passed through the boundary to the waking world, Lancelot heard Coventina's voice echoing behind him.

"Well done, Sir Lancelot."

In the next instant, he felt immeasurably heavy and was lying on his back. Lancelot opened his eyes and blearily blinked at the multiple faces hovering above him looking worried.

"Lancelot?" Leon called. "Can you hear us?"

He tried to nod, throat too dry to speak, but the movement made his aching head worse. His arm and hand were throbbing, and he let out a small sound of pain as he tried to lift his head to look down to see whether his body was intact now that he was back in it. A couple pairs of hands settled on his shoulders to abort the attempt.

"Easy," Percival said.

Lancelot swallowed around a parched throat and rasped, "Merlin?"

Merlin sat up from the floor, Gwaine at his back, and smiled. "We made it."

Lancelot exhaled wheezily in relief.

Arthur stepped closer and gazed down at him. "Are you all right?" he asked tautly.

"I've been better," Lancelot admitted. "But I'll be all right." He flexed his injured hand, which was swathed in bandages, just to be sure.

Arthur turned to the Druid leader, Rodan. "It's fortunate for you that my men are alive, but I cannot excuse this betrayal, be it intentional or simply thoughtless negligence."

"Arthur," Lancelot interjected, struggling to prop himself up but failing with both arms wounded. "The Druids are not to blame for what happened. I was summoned by the goddess Coventina to undertake a quest of great importance. Given the stakes, I could not refuse."

He proceeded to tell them of the Staff of Moirai, the quest to find the fold where it would be safe from all parties, and the goddess that tried to stop him.

"The treaty should not be abandoned because of this," he concluded.

"This wouldn't have happened if they hadn't drugged the wine," Gwaine pointed out.

Arthur nodded seriously. "That is something I cannot ignore."

"Then let this be a lesson for our interactions going forward," Lancelot pressed. "And in the end, a great disaster was averted and our future safe guarded. For both sides."

"Indeed," Rodan spoke up. "We thank you for your great deed, Sir Lancelot. And I am relieved you were returned alive, if not entirely intact. Please, remain as our guests as you recover from the ordeal."

Arthur's jaw tightened at the offer, but after a moment of consideration, he nodded his consent.

"I would really rather not fall asleep again just yet," Lancelot confessed.

"Understandable," Merlin replied and turned to Rodan. "We could use some hot water and healing herbs."

"Everything is already at your disposal," the Druid responded, gesturing to supplies sitting on a small stool in the back.

"Oh, perfect," Merlin said, getting to his feet and going over there.

"I will have food sent in as well, for all of you," Rodan added before leaving.

"Not sure I trust anything he'll give us," Gwaine grumbled.

"It's just the drink we have to be worried about, I think," Leon said.

"I doubt we have to worry," Lancelot said tiredly. "Percival, help me sit up?"

Both Percival and Leon carefully pulled Lancelot upright, and then Percival scooted in behind him so he could lean against his shoulder.

Arthur gave Lancelot a level look. "I don't like my men being used as pawns in someone else's game."

"I understand that, Sire. It was not an arbitrary choice, though. Apparently only I could complete this quest, given that I had once walked between worlds with the Veil." Lancelot looked down at his hands lying limp in his lap. "That changes a person, as we know."

"Meaning that before you, such a quest was impossible," Merlin piped in. "And now a dangerous threat to everyone is out of reach because of you." He brought over a steaming cup of steeped herbs and sat at the foot of the cot. "You're a hero." Merlin flashed him a cheeky grin. "Again."

Lancelot shook his head at the praise and accepted the tea.

"It looks like someone tended these wounds," Merlin went on, changing the subject. "I'd just like to check them."

"The Druids did," Leon explained.

Merlin nodded as he carefully peeled back the bandages. The injuries were the same as they'd been in the dreamscape, though obviously cleaned out and stitched in a few places.

"Wait, your hand," Elyan exclaimed as Merlin revealed those wounds. "It's not…it was practically eviscerated before."

And now it was mostly whole, save for several gashes on both sides. There were no sutures to be found; likely the flesh had been too mangled to even try.

"Was it Emrys?" Arthur asked.

Lancelot and Merlin went rigid as they shot each other stunned looks of alarm.

"Rodan mentioned there was a powerful figure watching over you," Arthur went on.

Lancelot managed to breathe out and smiled. "Yes, there was."

Merlin gave a fluttery, nervous half smile and quickly busied himself with retying the bandages, muttering something about needing to fashion a sling for him as well.

The next day, Lancelot stood next to Merlin and watched Arthur and Rodan sign the treaty. Merlin was beaming.

Lancelot leaned toward him. "One step closer," he whispered. "One day he will be signing a repeal on the magic ban, and you'll be standing at his side."

"I hope you're right," Merlin replied softly.

"We saved destiny, didn't we?" Lancelot said with a conspiratorial smile. "It'll happen."

The future was theirs to forge.