Part of the reason the wait for this has been so long is because this chapter is so long. Thanks goes to Elfpen for shouting at me. It was very motivating. Also thanks for checking through the first half.

Hope is a waking dream. –Aristotle

It had become a habit of the royal family of Avalon to lunch in the west garden. Less by the volition of the adults of the family and more because Bridgette and Lottie ate half an hour before their mother and grandfather and therefore were full of energy and likely to tear apart the palace brick by brick if left indoors. Ganscotter didn't mind the new routine at all, but still made sure to wait until his girls were well outside before joining them. Sometimes wrangling the twins was as dangerous as letting them alone.

He smiled, and heard his valet behind him chuckling, as they exited the castle to see the two strawberry-blonde whirlwinds already shrieking and sprinting down the main path through bushes of lavender and mint-weeds. It was becoming easier to tell them apart, as they were already developing distinctive fashion senses. Lottie preferred long and flouncy dresses while Bridgette was more reserved and often badgered her mother into letting her wear trousers or hose. As they circled around and rushed by, nearly knocking into the tray-laden valet, Ganscotter could see Lottie had a toy sword and was chasing her sister with her skirts hiked up to her knees. He clicked his tongue and shook his head with a longsuffering snort as he made his way toward the table.

Lorie was reading what appeared to be an imports and exports review while eating. She peered at him over the top of the parchment as he drew closer and moved her plate further away from his chair. Ganscotter sat and took the tray from his servant. "Thank you, Wes, that is all I needed," he said with a nod. "I can take my dishes back in myself."

The valet bowed. "Remember you have an appointment with King Oberon this afternoon, my lord."

"Yes, yes, I'll remember," he said, waving his hand. "Go on and have your own lunch."

Wes bowed again and departed, weaving his way between the laughing twins as they made another circuit around the main path. Lorie glanced sideways at her father. "What is your meeting with the King of Shadows about?"

"Oh, unusual Unseelie activity at one of his borders, mostly," he replied, picking up his knife. "So what are we playing today? Questing Ladies? Recreants?"

"River pirates, actually."

Ganscotter sighed. "I wish they wouldn't. Those pirates are the cause of most of my headaches the last few weeks, and I'd rather not have anyone idolizing them."

She hummed. "I'll see if I can convince them to play something else tonight. Lottie has been enjoying her sword, by the way."

"I could tell. Are we going to start her on lessons in the page's court soon?"

"As soon as I get the chance to talk to Gawain about them. He won't like it."

"The girl's a natural."

"He'll like that even less." The twins had inherited Gawain's stocky shoulders and wild Scottish features, and he'd been afraid they'd grow to look more like him as they grew older. They hadn't so far, but Lottie had picked up his ability and comfort with a weapon. "Bridgette was talking about learning to play the harp."

"If she still wants to in a few days I'll send for a tutor. And you may want to do some schedule shuffling next time their uncle's here. I heard them whispering about badgering Terence for archery lessons, and your rapscallions cause enough chaos without learning how to aim a slingshot."

Lorie laughed and dropped her reading into her lap. She sliced her apple and took a drink of tea. A scream from the other side of the garden drew alarmed looks from both of them, but they relaxed when they saw Bridgette pinning Lottie to the ground and tickling her. "Speaking of their uncle, have you seen Terence lately?"

Ganscotter frowned, his finger pausing on the handle of his teacup. "No, but he's not due in for another two weeks, maybe three."

She shook her head. "No, not like that. I mean…" She glanced at the girls again. "I usually have dreams about him. And Bridgette asked when he was coming back into their dreams. I didn't even know they had them about him, too."

The uneasy feeling left behind from his forgotten nightmare days before swept over Ganscotter again. "…Are you certain you're having dreams about him?"

"What do you mean, Father?"

"Mightn't you just be having dreams he happens to be in?"

Lorie pursed her lips. "I'm not sure—Bridgette! Bridgette, don't pull your sister's hair. Ladies don't pull hair."

"But I'm being a pirate, Mother!" the girl shouted back, and Lottie took advantage of the distraction by squirming out of her twin's reach and kicking out at her shoulder. "Ouch! Mother, Lottie kicked me!"

Lorie took a deep breath and looked up at the sky for a long moment. Ganscotter, frowning, gestured at them. "Girls, come here a moment. I want to speak with you."

The twins deflated and glanced at each other in fear before separating and slinking over to the table. Bridgette tugged her lengthened tunic further down her leg while Lottie ineffectively brushed dirt off the skirt of her play dress. "…Yes, Grandy?" they asked in unison.

"You can stop pouting. You're not in trouble. I want to ask you about Uncle Terence."

They brightened immediately. Bridgette did a little half-hop in excitement. "Is he coming soon?" she asked.

He smiled. "No, not yet. Do you see him in your dreams?" They nodded.

"Every night?"

They nodded again, but slower than before. Lottie nibbled her lip. "He hasn't been in them at all lately," she said. "And the last time he got sent away."

Ganscotter tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"It looked like this," Lottie said, and moved to stand behind Bridgette. They moved as one unit, and it was obvious they were talking to each other in their heads. That telepathic connection seemed to be the only magic they'd inherited from either parent, though Lorie feared it would grow stronger. Bridgette smiled at the adults, then twisted her face into a look of panic. She held out a hand to them at the same time Lottie grabbed her and yanked her backwards, and they both tumbled to the ground.

"Like that," Bridgette said as they stood up again and brushed each other off. "Only he was gone. Poof." She made a flourishing motion with her hands.

Ganscotter leaned back, that niggling feeling of worry growing stronger. He rubbed his chin, ignoring the look Lorie was giving him from the side. "Thank you. That's all. Go and play. Oh," he added as they started to scamper off, "five additional minutes of naptime today sounds like a suitable punishment for kicking and hair pulling, does it not, Lorie?"

"Indeed," she said as they groaned. "And don't do it anymore." The girls walked away, dragging their feet through the dirt. Lorie sighed again, then turned to Ganscotter. "Father? You're worried about something. Is it Terence?"

He shook his head. "…I wouldn't concern yourself too much, my dear. Terence or Gawain one would come if something was wrong. And Morgan said just the other day that he was fine, right? A few odd bad dreams are nothing out of the ordinary."

The thing Gawain had not anticipated when he'd told Terence he could stay up one night was the boredom. It had been barely an hour since Parsifal had left for Avalon, Terence hadn't said another word to him, and there wasn't anything pressing needing done. The knight had never just sat up before, not without there being some great peril or cause needing lots of thought.

"Are you sure you're not cursed or spelled or something?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Terence sighed and ducked his head. "I don't have any other signs of being cursed other than sleeplessness. I've searched my room for some sign of an intruder or a spell being worked and I didn't find anything."

"What about the not-sleep you were talking about?"

Terence sighed sharply and snapped. "I don't know, Gawain, I told you."

"I'm just trying to help," he replied, irritation stirring within him.

"You can't."

"You think I don't know that?"

They stared at each other in stony silence for a moment before Terenc e dropped his gaze, and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"Tired?" Gawain offered him a hollow smile. "Shame on me for snapping back."

His squire snorted and shook his head. "Go to bed."

"You first."

"It won't do any good."

"Then I'll stay up with you."

Frustrated, Terence stood and paced across the room, running a hand through his hair. "I'm touched, Milord, really, but there's no point in it. I'm not injured, I'm not in pain. It's not benefiting either of us. We're more than likely just going to start fighting again and I hate it when we fight."

"So do I."

"Then go to bed," the squire growled.

Gawain shook his head and tossed his feet up into Terence's empty chair. "Do you know how guilty I'd feel, snug in my bed, while you paced around here like a caged bear and swept the ceiling? I wouldn't get any sleep at all anyway."

Terence raised an eyebrow. "Swept the ceiling?"

"…For cobwebs? I've never had to clean a house before."

Terence sat back down in his chair, picking up Gawain's feet and replacing them in his lap. "If you doze off, I'm not waking you up."

He toed Terence's ribcage. "Why would I doze off?"

"Boredom. It isn't pleasant." Gawain scoffed and repositioned his feet on Terence's thigh. "Fine, don't believe me, then."

The knight shrugged and dug his heels into his squire's leg. Terence swatted at his ankles and he chuckled. He hated fighting with Terence as much as he'd always despised it when he quarreled with Gaheris. Perhaps even more, since he didn't have to share close quarters with Gaheris anymore.

"Fire's dying," the knight said with a cheeky grin.

Terence rolled his eyes and held up a hand. It was shaking violently. "Do you really want me near fire at the moment?"

The smile slid off Gawain's face as Terence dropped his hand. He pulled his feet off the squire's lap and stood, putting another log on the fire. Terence watched him as he sat down again, his hands clasped together. "That was meant to be a joke," he said quietly.

"Wasn't funny."

They sat in shifty silence, Gawain frantically searching for topics of conversation that didn't involve their current predicament, and Terence fighting not to turn his head at every shadow the fire was throwing against the dark wall behind him. The knight cleared his throat and sniffed once in a while, and both yawned periodically, but neither said a word. It was one of the most comfortable uncomfortable silences either had ever endured.

Eileen pressed her ear to the door of Gawain's chambers. A gentle snoring sound issued from within the room, and that was all she heard. Frowning, she edged the door open and tiptoed inside. The room had been rearranged, tables shifted into different corners and banners hanging on opposite walls. The only thing that hadn't moved where the two chairs beside the crackling fire, in one of which Gawain slumbered with his chin tucked into his chest and a blanket draped over him. Terence was stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace, his eyes closed peacefully. She frowned deeper. "Terence?"

The squire's eyes opened slowly and he smiled. " 'ftroon, love. What brings you here?"

"Neither of you came down for breakfast," she whispered, carefully closing the door and glancing to the window where sunshine splashed on the floor of the room. "Or lunch. I overheard Sophy say you hadn't been down yet. Gawain didn't show up for training. I was worried one of you was ill."

He sighed and stretched, bending his legs to pop his toes on the flagstones. "Yes 'n no," he said with a yawn.

"What do you mean? And why is he," she nodded at Gawain, "sleeping in here? His neck will ache for days if he stays there much longer."

"Will, won't i'," Terence said thoughtfully, an amused and affectionate smile playing across his face. He shifted around and sat up to sit cross-legged in front of the fire, then grabbed and shook Gawain's ankle.

The knight startled, snorting in the middle of his last snore and going tense. He looked around, then blinked and looked around again. "…You moved things," he grumbled, voice thick with sleep. "How deep was I out last night?"

"More morning tha-last night, m'lord. An' less you sleeping deep and m-more me m-movin' quietly. I didn't get your breakfast, sorry."

Gawain scoffed and waved the last comment away, then noticed the visitor. "Oh, hello, Eileen. What time is it?"

"Past noon," she answered, glancing between them. "What's wrong with you, Terence? Aren't you getting any sleep at all?"

"Nail on the head," Gawain muttered. He stood and stretched, then popped his neck with a heavy groan. "Next time, lad, keeping me up would be kinder."

"N-not my fault you're getting old," Terence quipped, leaning toward the fire. "H'w'd you tell?"

Eileen crossed her arms. "You're talking funny, your eyes are red and streamy, and the dark circles from the other day are just darker. How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?"

"Four days, now," he admitted. He rubbed self-consciously at his eyes. " 'm I that bad?"

She came over and took his hands, pulling them away from his face to peer into his eyes. "Don't rub at them, you'll make them worse. Now. Are you sleeping at all?"

"No, he's not," Gawain answered as Terence opened his mouth. "And he's had trouble for a month and neglected to tell anyone until last night."

Terence sighed. "There wasn't anathin to b'done."

"Is that why Morgan's here?"

The men paused and looked at her. "Already?" Gawain asked.

Eileen shrugged and wrapped her fingers around her husband's. ""I was shopping in the market and saw Kai talking to Morgan at the gates."

Gawain popped his neck again. "Well, ordinarily I'd say a visit from Auntie means we should tidy up a bit, but you did that again last night, didn't you?"

"Your room, and…and moved things in here. I'll m-move it back later."

"Eh, a little change won't hurt. Don't we have some smoked meat and bread and fruit in the cupboard over…there?" he said, pointing after locating where it had been moved to.

Terence studied the embroidery on Eileen's skirt. "I may've eaten it all."

"What, all of it?"

"I'm starving."

Gawain scowled and opened the cupboard door to look anyway while Eileen giggled and squeezed Terence's hand. "I'll go down to the kitchens when she goes. Funny, you are slurring words more than usual. Although we've never done four days awake on the road before."

Terence yawned again. Eileen sighed and settled down next to him, running a gentle hand through his loose curls. "You need a haircut, dear."

"n'need n'nap."

"You need," the knight butted in, "to move back into your room, in case Morgan wants to charm you into sleep right off, or if Arthur comes in with her."

"May not be a good idea," Terence said. "Standing up, I mean. M'kind of dizzy."

Gawain drew a deep breath and slowly released it. "If I do find out you've been cursed-"

"Stupidest curse," the squire mumbled. " f'they can get this close, why not just kill me?"

"You're going to kill yourself the way you're going now. You can't work like this. I'm surprised you didn't faint or knock yourself out moving furniture."

"Lie down, Terence," Eileen said, her voice soft and just in his ear. He complied, letting her pull his head into her lap and stroke his hair.

Gawain watched them a moment, then grumbled under his breath. "If you two get too adorable, I'm going to bed, Aunt coming up or not."

Eileen stuck her tongue out at him. "Is there anything that happened recently that may be stopping you from sleeping? Bad news from Avalon? Dark feelings from anywhere?"

He frowned. Eileen's hand brushing his scalp was almost hypnotizing, but he still didn't feel sleepy. "No?"

"You're disgusting, the both of you. I hope Arthur's not worried enough to come."

"Oh, pipe down, Gawain. Go trim your beard, you look more like a wild man than usual."

Gawain opened his mouth to retort, but not before the door burst open and Morgan sauntered into the room, the door closing on its own behind her. He closed his mouth and blinked. "Well. I'm glad no one's getting dressed."

Morgan smirked. "You couldn't dress yourself if I charmed your clothes to help you. Where's the duke?"

"I take it Arthur's not behind you."

"No, but he wanted to be. Where—"

Terence raised his hand, levering himself to sit upright with the nearby chair. "He's right here." He straightened up further, taking visible effort to struggle his way to his feet and bow in greeting, one hand still clutching Eileen's and one hand on the back of the chair. "Have you come to put me down, Lady Morgan?"

"Unfortunate word choice, Terence," Eileen said, squeezing his fingers.

The enchantress scoffed, her eyes stern and more than a little angry. "One doesn't just cast a sleeping spell on the son of the Enchanter. It would take every ounce of magic in me to put you under more than a few minutes. I'm going to break whatever curse you imbeciles managed to let slip past all none of your defenses and then hang you for not letting me know about this when I was here three days ago."

"Morgan—" Gawain started.

"I n-never found evidence of being c-cursed."

She turned away from the trio and began rummaging through cabinets and inspecting the undersides of tables. "Well of course you didn't. You don't have a lick of magic in you. And how much contact with curses do you get on a regular basis? Honestly, it's like dealing with an infant. Drink this and sit down." She crossed the room and handed him a small vial.

He released Eileen's hand and took the bottle, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Fast-and-dirty quick-cure for whatever happens to ail you," Morgan answered. "Or the flashy surface curses, anyway. Just drink it, and never mind the taste."

Terence glanced at the other two, then removed the lid from the vial and downed the contents in a single gulp. He then proceeded to double over, reeling almost back into the fireplace, clutching his nose and making choking sounds. Eileen wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him safely out of the way before he burned himself, and Gawain darted forward to steady his other side. "Morgan!" the knight scolded, taking Terence's arm.

Morgan had stopped in the middle of rifling through a basket and her hand was still inside it as she stared at Terence with a look of pure disgust. "You just took that. I handed it to you and you just took it, no suspicion, no second guessing, no double checking to make sure it wasn't poison. I just handed it to you and down the hatch it goes." She growled softly to herself and picked through the basket while Terence gagged and coughed. "It's no bleeding wonder this happened. I'm surprised you're not dead three times over, irresponsible idiots, the lot of you."

"You're generally trustworthy," Eileen said, rubbing her husband's back as she glared at the enchantress.

"I was in a war council with an Unseelie Lord when Parsifal stumbled upon me, and he's lucky he didn't get himself roasted alive," Morgan spat. "Being undecided means I have obligations on both sides, even if I have unofficially allied with the royal family of Avalon. And for the record, that's not poison, and the burning you're currently feeling in your nostrils is what's supposed to happen. Never take strange things from strange people."

"That's unpleasant," Terence muttered, straightening and massaging the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm more awake than before."

Gawain pushed him into the chair he'd been leaning on. "Where is Parsifal, anyway?"

"I sent him back to Camelot the long way, and I'm telling Cuchulain the next time you're in Avalon that you're all Merlin's until further notice," Morgan said. She pulled an enchanter's kit out of seemingly nowhere, and knowing her it might well have been. "Are you feeling an uncomfortable tingling anywhere near your stomach or head?"

"…No?" Terence said, finally moving his hand from his nose to wipe his watery eyes.

She pursed her lips and opened the bag in front of her, pulling out all manner of powders, salves, and bizarre-looking ingredients. "It must be a stronger curse than what it can pick up, then. Hold on, I'll have something else for you."

"Are you absolutely certain he's been cursed?" Eileen asked. "He seems sure he hasn't."

"And what would he know? He just swallowed a potion from an enchantress without testing it or asking what was in it or what it would do. And he didn't think to mention that he might be cursed even when he had a capable magic-worker within easy reach a few days back. Besides, sleeplessness is a common trait of curses. We need water."

Eileen sighed and, with a quick squeeze to Terence's shoulder, left the room. Morgan turned around to face the men, holding another bottle. She uncapped it and shook a bead of lotion onto her hand. "I'm ashamed of you, Terence," she said as she approached him.

"I didn' think it was dangerous," he said wearily.

"I don't care. You know how important you are to Avalon, and to England. You ought to have said something, no matter what you thought. You have to be careful." She took both of his hands and began rubbing lotion into his skin.

Gawain frowned. "We never thought we'd need to be that careful, though, Morgan. One of the reasons Terence stays here is that it's safer. Not very many people at all know who he is."

"The Unseelie Realm's been braver of late. Whether or not Camelot is safer, you should be on guard."

"We can't be on guard every second of every day."

"That's hot," Terence said, blinking blearily at Morgan's hands over his, his eyes slowly widening.

"What?" both asked absently.

"The lotion. It's hot."

Morgan looked at him, her face sharp. "It's not supposed to be."

"It's not, it's very hot—" He yanked his hands away from hers and began rubbing them on his tunic, frantic to get the lotion off.

Morgan backed away, looking around the room. "Rags?"

"Here," Gawain said, darting to corner cabinet fixed onto the wall. He opened it and grabbed a cloth, tossing it to his aunt in an easy motion. Morgan caught it and tugged at one of Terence's wrists, rubbing the lotion off his hands and seeing now where his skin was beginning to redden. He took the rag from her and finished cleaning the other hand while she stepped back and studied him, frowning. She was quiet as he tossed the cloth to the floor and flexed his fingers. The knight looked at them both. "…Aunt Morgan?"

She drew a breath and turned to him, shaking her head. She looked at Terence. "I'm sorry, your grace. That wasn't supposed to happen."

"What's it mean?" Terence asked.

"Nothing. It was…nothing."

The door opened, and Eileen came in with a pitcher of water and a clean mug. She paused when she saw three of them, tension dripping from Gawain's shoulders, Terence massaging his hands, Morgan looking a little rattled. "…Did I miss something?"

"Nothing important. Gawain, fetch another cloth." The knight tossed her another rag and she dipped it into the pitcher Eileen placed on the table before handing it to Terence. He washed the last traces of lotion off his hands as she poured water into the cup.

Gawain took another cloth just in case and moved back toward the rest of the group. "What exactly was that supposed to do?"

Morgan tore open a small package and tipped the powder inside into the mug. "It was supposed to aid in clearing extra magic from his body." She opened another powder.

"But it—"

"I know," she snapped, stirring the contents of the mug. She muttered a few indistinguishable words over it and brought it to Terence. "Drink this."

He took the cup and looked at her. " 'm I goin' t'get yelled at if I do?"

"No, I think you've learned that lesson. Just drink it."

Terence gulped, then downed the water in a few gulps, grimacing at the grainy texture and taste. "Don't you have something that tastes good?"

"Do I look like that sort of healer? Nephew mine, you may want to grab that bucket."

"Why—" Gawain began, then shook his head and darted for the bucket by the fireplace. He managed to shove it into his squire's hands just in time for Terence to lose his breakfast into it. Eileen tutted sympathetically, rubbing his back, while Gawain cursed. "You could warn him, Morgan."

She shrugged. "I could. But he could have warned me before, too." She waited while Terence spat and gagged. After a minute, he recovered and put the bucket down between his feet, rubbing his forehead. Morgan frowned. "…Is that it? That's all you're going to do?"

"Were you expecting more?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, rather." She wrinkled her nose and stepped forward to peek into the bucket. "…Well. That's…not right."

"What's not right this time?" Gawain asked.

"He should be…ah…expelling the dark magic. Perhaps he needs an Avalonian healer, if it's going to be this difficult to be rid of. What other symptoms are you feeling?"

Terence leaned back, wincing. "I don' know. 'M just…tired. There wasn't ever anathin' else."

Morgan frowned. "No anything? No irrational behavior, no blanks in your memory, no pain, no fever, no clumsiness not related to exhaustion? No bad dreams? Back when you could sleep, I mean."

"I don' have dreams."

"What, never?" He shook his head and she shrugged. "All right."

Eileen frowned. "I didn't know that. You really don't dream?"

He shook his head. "Never have. What now?"

"I'm going to try something else," Morgan said. She moved behind Terence's chair and placed a hand across his forehead, cupping the other around the back of his neck. He frowned, his eyes crossing as he tried to look at the hand on his forehead. She half-closed her eyes, her lips forming words that couldn't be heard by the decidedly human ears in the room. Gawain and Eileen watched, Gawain's arms crossed and Eileen's behind her back. Terence sighed impatiently and attempted to shrug at the other two without moving his neck.

After a minute or so she released him. Her eyes opened all the way, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Taking a deep breath, she moved in front of Terence and knelt down to his eye level. "…You're not cursed," she said quietly. "You never were."

He sighed again. "I told you."

"You couldn't know, not for sure."

Eileen cocked her head. "Then what's wrong with him?"

Morgan looked at her, standing up again. "Honestly? I don't know. This is…completely beyond me."

"Well obviously something's wrong," Gawain said. "People don't just stop sleeping."

"I know, but the problem isn't in a curse. It doesn't feel magical in nature at all. I don't know what's wrong. I don't know what to do."

Terence leaned back in his chair. "So…what now?"

She shrugged. "I'll stay here for a while, for one thing. See if anything changes or gets worse. See if I can help in anyway at all. When Parsifal comes back, I'll send him after Ganscotter. I should have done that to begin with, but I was hoping we could take care of this problem quietly. Your father's been having some issues with pirates lately, and it's been wearing on him."

"Isn't there something else we can do right now?" Eileen asked.

"Not if he can't sleep at all. The most we can do is wait and hope it clears itself up on its own."