Summary: Dyllan Pennington is an 18-year-old girl who can see visions of the future and hears the voice of a long-dead king. With her mother hospitalized and unable to recognize her, and being a social outcast at school, she doesn't know how much more she can cope. It's in the midst of her troubles that she finds an unexpected friend: Lance. Dyllan is drawn to him; it's as if they've known each other for centuries. Her intuition tells her there's a reason they met: he may know why she's having the visions, and why they're getting worse...

༶•┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈┈•༶

"Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not.
Someone else always has to carry on the story."
–Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring

༶•┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈┈•༶

[Lancelot]

The whisper of the breeze drew me gently into wakefulness. A soft rustle and the gentle creak of a branch was just enough to stir me. I was outside. That much was evident, though it didn't seem right somehow. I thought back, desperately trying to pinpoint my last memory. Where had I been? What had I been doing?

It was hazy, as though it had happened to another person. I remembered the room in Joyous Gard and the face of my squire. Then the memory hit me, slamming into me with the force of a charging warhorse.

I'd been dying.

Death came to everyone, and it had finally come for me. There was no escaping it. And I hadn't wanted to. After all, my life was over. My king was gone and the kingdom I had served was failing. I had looked forward to death as a welcome relief. I saw it as a chance to put down the grief and guilt I'd been carrying for so many years.

But, what had happened?

I wasn't dead; of that I was certain. Even though I believed in some kind of life after death, I knew this wasn't it.

Finally, with some effort, I forced my eyes to open. Puffy white clouds raced ahead of the westerly wind in a periwinkle blue sky. I lay on my back in thick, prickly grass with the clean smell of water nearby.

I lifted one hand to brush back my hair and stare dat it in wonder. I flexed young, strong fingers untouched by age; they were the hands of a young man. They certainly weren't mine. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I realized my hands were not the only thing that changed. My entire body was young and whole again, as I had been in my prime; fit and strong. I was also naked; the thought didn't bother me, I seemed to be alone, and there were more pressing matters to concern me.

I knew exactly where I was. The Lake of Avalon lay unchanged, still reflecting a sky that didn't exist in this world, stars blossoming in its smooth surface when the sky overhead was clear and bright.

I was alone, but I didn't think I would be for long. I struggled to my feet. My body may have been young again, but I felt painfully stiff, as though I had been laying in the grass for years. I cracked my joints and stretched, still waiting for some sign of life.

Gazing around, I took in the lake, feeling as though I had not seen it in a lifetime. Nothing had changed, but then nothing ever did at the lake. The Lady made sure of that. Then I noticed one small thing out of place. A pile of clothing lay neatly folded at the edge of the water.

I could only assume it was for me, but when I picked up the bundle I frowned. Instead of the breeches I was accustomed to these were made of a strange blue material. They would be useless in a fight; too tight and constricting. The top was a thin, white buttonless shirt. Odd.

I hesitated for a moment, uncertain. Something about the whole world felt off-kilter. It was the only way I could describe it.

A cool breeze rippling across the lake brought goosebumps to my skin, and I hurriedly shrugged into the clothes. They would certainly take some getting used to, but they were the only ones I had.

Movement out across the water caught my eye. An owl swooped over the lake, winging its way toward me. Palpable relief surged through me.

Merlin!

He would explain.

A nimbus of bright light grew around the bird until I had to close my eyes and, when I opened them again, Merlin stood beside me.

"Lancelot!" He drew me into a rough embrace, shocking me with the thick emotion in his voice. I couldn't understand when I had last seen him only a month prior.

I stepped back and held him at arm's length, my hands clasped firmly on his lanky shoulders. "Merlin? Why am I here?" I was not foolish enough to ask how. Merlin's magic was something I could never understand. But I was curious. How had I come hundred of miles from Joyous Gard, and in a body that might have been mine fifteen years ago, but not any longer?

"I know you must have a million questions, Lancelot, but I don't really want to explain this more than once."

I raised an eyebrow. "You are expecting more company?"

Merlin smiled, his blue eyes twinkling, while jerking his head, signaling that I should look behind me. The bank was empty when I first woke, but now two figures were stepping out of the tree line. Like me they looked dazed and confused, even more so because the lake was unfamiliar to them.

For a long moment I could only stare. I never expected to see them again. It had been so many years since our last meeting, but they were are far younger than last I saw them.

Percival's boyish grin appeared the moment he saw me, but Gwaine's expression was dark, his eyes wary.

"How—?"

Merlin laughed softly behind me. "The 'how' is a little complicated. But the 'why' will come plain enough."

Percival and Gwaine reached us, and the former swept me into a rough embrace, laughing with disbelief. Gwaine stood behind him, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He looked as though he wasn't sure whether to greet me or hit me.

"I'd like to hear some of the 'how,'" I said, turning back to Merlin. I turned my hands over, looking at the smooth, tanned skin not yet damaged by age. "It's a little disconcerting. How—How old am I?"

Merlin laughed again and lead us over to a slight hollow on the bank where a fire appeared, burning merrily. "Again, a complicated question. And even I am not entirely sure of the answer. Looking at you, I'd say twenty at most. How many years has it been since the moment of your birth? Far more than a thousand."

My head snapped up, my hands dropping back to my sides. "A thousand?"

Gwaine and Percival appeared to be just as shocked as I was.

"Many more than a thousand, in fact. Though it's hard to know the exact number. We were not as...diligent in our record keeping back then, as they are now."

I tried to think, try to focus, but my mind felt like it was spinning. Ever since I had awoken it seemed as though my mind was shifting. The memories of my life already seemed hazy in parts, as though they were a dream, or had happened to someone else—someone else who wore my face and bore my name. Other things were taking their place, a changed language and the sense of a world very different from my own.

Merlin took my shoulder and smiled gently. "Try not to fight it, Lancelot. It's the magic at work. I had to ensure that you could fit into this time and this place. It was necessary to combine your memories with those of people from this time."

The feeling subsided and I managed to focus back on Merlin. "Magic is the answer for 'how'—but why? Why bring me—us—to this strange time? Why did you bring us back?"

For a moment, something like guilt flashed across Merlin's face, but he hid it just as quickly. "You were there, Lancelot. You too, Gwaine. The day that Arthur fell—"

My gaze met Gwaine's and I shuddered. I could never forget that day. The day I had arrived at the battle too late to save my king, reaching him as he already lay dying in Merlin's arms.

"You know of Arthur's destiny," Merlin continued, seeing our pain reflected in his own eyes was gut wrenching. "That he was the Once and Future King, the rightful king of all Albion. And that if ever Albion needed him, he would return."

I almost looked around at the sorcerer's words, expecting Arthur to emerge from the trees. But, in my heart, I knew he wouldn't.

Merlin touched my arm and smiled sadly, knowingly. "I'm afraid not, Lancelot. Though, you are right, the time has come for Arthur. Albion has need of him. But the wound Arthur received at Camlann was fatal. In Avalon he cannot die, but should he return to this world his wound will kill him."

"But, Merlin, if Arthur—"

"There are other ways. Out there in the world today is the last of Arthur's line. The last Pendragon, though they no longer carry that name. In them, the magic of the Old Religion has been born anew, in their veins still runs the blessing of the Fair Folk." For a moment Merlin fell silent, then shook off his melancholy enough to continue. "When the time comes, when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur's soul will join with his heir to defeat the evil that threatens."

I shot a glance at Gwaine and Percival, but they seemed content to let me take the lead. "And us? What is our purpose?"

"I knew that should all of this come to pass, the last Pendragon would have need of strength, wisdom, and chivalry of Arthur's knights. I picked the best; the three knights I knew were the most loyal, the most honor bound, and the bravest. The magic was complex and dangerous, and verging on a darkness that only necessity could have driven me to, but here you are. And I have only one question—will you serve Arthur one last time?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation; there was no other answer I could give. This was my chance, my moment to redeem myself, to right the wrongs I had once committed.

I had betrayed Arthur once, I would not do it again.

Percival and Gwaine answered the same, but Gwaine's eyes bored into me from across the fire. We had been closer than brothers once, I would have laid down my life for him, but I betrayed him, too. Betrayed the bonds of brotherhood we had once shared. Percival was a simpler man, quick to forgive, willing to forget, but Gwaine would not forgive me readily. If he ever would at all. Even after all this time, he still doubted me, still feared that I would betray him yet again.

Merlin was speaking, and I forced myself to pay attention.

"...the town lies north of here, and you must travel there soon. Even now I can feel Morgana's power moving around the country. She seeks Arthur's heir as much as we do."

"Morgana?"

Merlin glowerd at me. "Were you not listening, Lancelot?"

I grimaced. "I—"

"At least some things don't change," Gwaine muttered.

I glanced up and meet Gwaine's wry smirk with one of my own. "Some things will never change."

"Enough!" Merlin cut across, glaring at the both of us. "Morgana is back, Lancelot. Without my knowledge, she found a pathway into Avalon all those years ago. Mordred was dead, her hopes for the throne of Camelot dashed, but she was never one to give up easily. She also had the gift of prophecy. She could see how the world would one day change, and how it might work in her favor. And so she passed into Avalon where, like Arthur, she wouldn't die, and she waited until Albion was ripe for her to take."

"She plans to take the throne from Arthur's heir?"

Merlin smiled crookedly. "Arthur's heir is not the ruler of Albion. Far from it, actually. They are a regular person. No power, no fortune. But Morgana will kill them because she knows C they are the only person with any hope of defeating her. And we cannot allow that to happen. And so you must travel. You must find Arthur's heir. You must protect her, watch over her, until she comes into her birthright."

"She?" I blinked at Merlin in surprise.

"A girl, yes. She is young, barely eighteen. And she will need you. All of you."

༶•┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈┈•༶

A/N: I've been watching the show Merlin for the umpteenth time and I just couldn't help myself... I've always wanted to write a story that's based off the show, and I'm so glad to finally see it come to fruition!

I've taken some creative liberties, mostly with the plot. This will be AU, though certain plot lines I will use from the show. So, if anything confuses you, please don't hesitate to ask questions! I'd be happy to answer them :)

Until the next chapter,
Dev