The teleportation light faded, revealing a cavern arching over their heads, darkness all around. As if sensing their presence, the faint glow of torches and ethereal Ancient power sources illuminated the farthest corners. The room was furnished not lavishly, but not spartanly - it was a practical room, with a bit of styled flair. Hands all around gripped immediately wary on the bodies of their guns. Vala was the first to speak.
"Okay, what just happened?"
"I think we were transported to another chamber," Carter responded, stepping cautiously from her position and shining her flashlight around.
"Where's Adria," Daniel asked in mild alarm, looking around for the Orici, but she was nowhere to be found. He met Carter's eyes, and she gave a facial shrug.
"I guess she didn't make it."
"It must be some sort of a security measure."
"I dunno," Mitchell said, pointing his flashlight in their other companion's eyes, smirking as the Goa'uld shied from the glare. "It let him in."
"I don't think Morgan was too concerned about the Goa'uld," Daniel pointed out. "It was the Ori she was worried about."
Spreading out to search the cave, Mitchell let out a sharp sigh. "You know, I'm not seeing anything around here that looks like a Sangreal. Which begets the question, what was she protecting?"
"I think I know."
All eyes turned to look at Sam, who was staring at a chamber set into the rock itself. The light from her scope played over an inscribed plaque next to the chamber, covered in Ancient writing, but it was what was in the chamber that caught their attention. Encased in what appeared to be a solid slab of ice, but for certain an Ancient stasis chamber, a young man was held, suspended in time. His eyes were closed, the mop of jet-black hair falling over his forehead. He wore a robe of red leather and cloth around his shoulders, clasped at the neck with a two-disk connector that bore twin seals of a dragon on a sun. Beneath that, a worn blue tunic and beaten brown jacket, and a red scarf was looped around his neck.
Mitchell pointed an uncertain finger at the chamber and looked to their resident expert for answers. "Alright, that's not a hologram. He's the real McCoy, right?"
"Here lies Myrddin, Archmage of the Round," Daniel translated softly, studying the text.
"Really?" Vala said, wrinkling her nose in slight disbelief. "That's him? I assumed he'd be-"
"Taller?" Mitchell supplied.
"Older," she sniped back. "Whoever he is, he's just a kid."
"Some legends surrounding Merlin suggested he was Immortal, or that he aged backwards. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, to keep the Ancient knowledge from deteriorating to time and age." Daniel stepped closer, looking through the stasis 'ice' to the peaceful face within. "He must've been in here for well over thousands of years."
"We have encountered Ancient stasis technology such as this before. General O'Neill was kept in a similar pod in Antarctica," Teal'c remarked.
Mitchell walked over to Daniel, studying the ice-locked magician, and leaning on his weapon. "So...how do we get him out?"
"I have no idea."
"Hey guys! Look at this!"
Daniel turned to see what she was doing, and his eyes grew wide with alarm as she stepped towards a very familiar cylindrical device embedded on the wall. "Vala, be careful!"
The woman ducked hurriedly as the device pushed outwards, gawping as she turned to look at Daniel, but whatever she had been about to say died on her lips and she pointed behind the linguist.
"Hey, Jackson!" Mitchell said, almost at the same time. Daniel turned again, getting somewhat dizzy to be honest, and stepped back slightly as the stasis chamber began to defrost. As the holding material shrank back from the young man's body, Merlin's eyes fluttered, and he gave a soft, disoriented groan.
Mitchell and Daniel moved forward immediately as the ice retreated completely and the young man pitched forward, catching him by the arms. Slender fingers curled into the fabric of Daniel's jacket as they maneuvered the body over to a couch nearby, easing him back onto the pillowed surface.
For a moment, Merlin's eyes fluttered open, and eyes the color of storm clouds stared up at Mitchell's face.
"Arthur..." he mumbled with confusion, almost inaudibly, then a whispered, "Who are you?" Then they slipped closed again, and he sagged against the pillows, completely unconscious.
This was just a quick bunny - I won't in all likelyhood continue it in any way. If it gives you ideas, though, feel free to run with it. Squint and you can find the Arthur/Merlin subtext.