A/N: This section was written by LilyAyl.

In which Arthur decides to find answers.

Saturday, December 17 2011

Arthur stared down the line of his sword. The day with all its distractions, the tournament, Gwen, his father's expectations, they all faded, leaving only him, the sword, and the man crouched across from him. The man's torso twitched, and Arthur raised his shield, blocking the blow, and then struck low and fast with his dull blade. The man fell to his knees. Arthur stepped in, pressing his advantage, and—

Arthur awoke, breathing so hard his chest ached. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and blinked at the large numbers on it. Four am. He'd only managed about forty-five minutes of sleep from his last dream. He fell back on his pillow, closing his eyes. Unlike a normal dream that fled within the seconds after waking, this one lingered, every detail sharp and strong. He could taste sweat on his lips, could hear the sound of his sword and heavy breaths of the other man.

Arthur breathed in and out deeply. He and Vivian had done couples yoga together once—her idea. Merlin had teased him for weeks afterward when he found out. His heartbeat calmed. Arthur twisted over to put his phone back on his nightstand, when he realized he had just called Ambrose 'Merlin.' He imagined Ambrose in a tall cap and robes acting all wise and important, and then started to laugh at the absurd image. If anything would be a cure for these strange nightmares, it was that. Ambrose as Merlin, as if that would ever—Arthur stopped. The candle. That damned candle at Ambrose's birthday.

Instead of putting his phone down, Arthur leveraged himself against the nightstand and sat up. The floor was cool against his bare feet. Rubbing at his neck with one hand, Arthur called Ambrose. He didn't care what time it was in the morning. He wanted answers.

"I am going to kill you," Ambrose said, his voice a low croak.

"You did magic," Arthur said. "At your birthday."

"Oh, god."

"Dreams, Ambrose. Dreams where I'm—"

"King Arthur," Ambrose interrupted.

"So you do know about this."

"You're not alone. Me, David—"

"Gavin," Arthur added, remembering his odd question after the game the day before.

He could hear the frown in Ambrose's voice. "Gavin, too?"

"All right, we need to figure out what this is. What time does the library open?"

"Nine, I think. Wh—No. No, Arthur. I am spending my day with David. I am not doing research."

"Bring David," Arthur said. "I'll call Gavin." He glanced at his still-dark window. "In a couple hours. Bring your laptop. Nine AM. Library. Meet in the lobby by that one tree statue." He hung up before Ambrose could protest. Arthur looked down at his phone, wondering if he should attempt sleep again. He didn't want another dream. He stood up, tossing his phone on his bed as he started searching for a shirt. He was going for a run.

*-&EL&-*

Arthur reached the library in time to watch one of the security guards unlock the doors. He'd brought his laptop and a notebook in which he'd started to write out the details of his dreams before he'd decided he remembered them well enough to not. He sat on the bench next to the tree statue and checked his phone. It was five after nine; Ambrose was late. Arthur smirked and called him.

"What?" Ambrose asked, his voice sharp with impatience.

"You're late." Arthur leaned back against the wall, pillowing one hand behind his head.

"It's barely five after."

"Precisely. As you have often told me, five minutes is late."

"I hate you."

"So you'll be here soon?"

"Good-bye, Arthur." Ambrose hung up.

Arthur switched his phone to vibrate and then slipped it back into his coat pocket. He wasn't waiting long when Gavin and Elle showed up. Elle was yawning and looking as though she'd prefer to still be in bed, but Gavin looked intent.

"So dreams?" Gavin said when he reached the bench. Elle sat beside Arthur, pulling her feet up onto the edge and resting her forehead against her knees.

"Yeah. You too."

Gavin nodded. "Did you call Gwen?"

"Not really the impression I want to make, you know?"

Elle snorted. "I'll call her."

"Wait, you knew?" Gavin asked.

Elle looked up at him, unimpressed. "I am Gwen's best friend," she said. "I've known since before Ambrose's party."

"You never said anything."

"Best friend," Elle repeated, her words muffled as she put her forehead back to her knees. "I can keep secrets."

Gavin smiled. "Well at least you're a matched pair."

"Oh yes, we both have crazy dreams. That's a great foundation for a relationship," Arthur said.

"So you want a relationship with her?"

"What are we talking about?" Ambrose asked, walking up with David.

Gavin grinned. "Arthur wants a relationship with fair Gwen."

"Arthur and Gwen sitting in a tree," Ambrose started to sing.

"Do you want to start digitizing all our old files?"

"That's blackmail."

"Stop singing."

"So what are we doing here anyway?" Elle asked.

"Research," Arthur said with more confidence than he felt. "I want to know what is happening and why."

"So do we wait for Gwen or get started?" Gavin asked.

"Let's get started," Arthur said. "Ambrose. You have this place memorized. Arthurian mythology and shared dream-memories. Where do we go?"

"I do not have this place memorized," Ambrose protested. He turned to David and repeated in a softer voice. "I don't."

"Ambrose." Arthur rolled his eyes.

Ambrose glared back at him. "Upstairs," he said, grudgingly. "New age stuff and psychology on the third floor. Folklore's on the seventh. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate you?"

Arthur grinned. "You and David get the dream books. Rest of us will meet you on the seventh. Elle, can you text Gwen?"

Elle held up her phone. "Already done."

"Fantastic," Arthur said. "Let's get started."

Twenty minutes later, Arthur was regretting his early morning enthusiasm. The library had an entire aisle filled, both sides, with books on King Arthur and Camelot. He, Gavin, and Elle had staked out the aisle. Elle was on one end, reading through a dramatic adaptation, and Gavin was on the other, one arm resting on a pulled-up knee, and flipping through a German translation. Arthur sat in the middle with a stack of books and was looking through the T.H. White version. If Ambrose ever tried turning him into a squirrel, he decided after reading through a few paragraphs, Arthur would send singing telegrams to all of his classes his first full week of teaching.

"Move your legs." Ambrose kicked at Gavin's ankle. He and David both carried a small stack of books.

"Look who we found on the way up." David said, walking into the aisle. He nodded behind himself to where Gwen stood, biting her lip and playing with her purse strap.

"Hey."

"Gwen." Arthur stood up. "You came. Look, about yesterday—"

"Arthur," she interrupted. "It's all right. Unexpected and a little early, but—" she blushed "—not unwelcome."

Gavin whistled. "Well, Arthur, I think you just might have a chance."

"Hush," Gwen said, kicking him. "So, how are we doing this?" She walked down the aisle, sitting across from Elle.

"Pick a book," Arthur said, waving at the shelves and sitting back down. "Don't really have much more of a plan than that. Ambrose will make sure we're not disturbed."

"Ambrose will do what now?" Ambrose asked, dropping his books across from Arthur.

"You can do magic, can't you?" Arthur asked. "So magic us up, make sure no one listens in or bothers us."

"I can't just wave my hand and make things happen," Ambrose protested. "Lighting candles, turning lights off and on, and moving things around—that's as far as I've gotten."

"Can I see?" Gwen asked.

"He showed me the moving things around one last night," David said slyly. "I was impressed."

Ambrose reddened.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "God save me from lovebirds. Ambrose, please show Gwen your magic. I would also be interested in seeing it. Then, please—" he waggled his fingers "—keep us from being disturbed."

Ambrose gave him a dirty look, but then muttered something under his breath, causing his pile of books to rise up in the air and neatly stack themselves beside him.

"Well," Gavin said, breaking the silence. "If we'd any doubts."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gwen asked.

Ambrose shrugged. "You seemed stressed. I didn't want to bother you."

"This is why I was stressed," Gwen said. "Until Gavin, I thought I was the only one."

"I thought the same until David," Ambrose said. They shared a companionable smile. Then Ambrose, switching into science mode, asked, "When did you start dreaming?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Arthur asked, waggling his fingers.

"When did this—" Ambrose mimicked the gesture impatiently "—become the code for 'Ambrose do magic'?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Since now, I guess?"

"Well stop it," Ambrose said, standing up. "Uh, Gwen—" he scratched at the back of his neck "—Harry Potter spells work best. Um, do you remember any that might…?"

Gwen pursed her lips. "There's the one Harry learns from the potions book," she said. "Muffli-something."

"Right. Good. And the 'don't bother' bit?"

Gwen tilted her head in thought, but then shook it apologetically. "I can't think of anything."

"So I have to make something up," Ambrose said. "Perfect. Thank goodness for high school Latin." He closed his eyes and spread his fingers out before him. "Muffliato. Dissimulo." A haze spread from his outstretched hand like heat in summer. It covered the aisle and then dissipated. Arthur felt itchy at a level deeper than he could scratch. "Right," Ambrose said, sitting back down. He looked familiarly pale.

"You did magic at my father's Christmas party," Arthur accused. Then, realizing, added, "The lights and the candles—that was you?"

"It was an accident," Ambrose said. "Can we please get back on topic? The dreams. Are we all having them?"

Elle raised her hand. "I'm not."

"Probably just a matter of time," Arthur said. "I just started yesterday."

"Maybe Gwen should try giving her something," Ambrose suggested. He then explained the connection between his and David's dreams. Gavin added something about a toy necklace, and Arthur remembered the handkerchief.

"That's just coincidence," Gwen protested.

"Well," Arthur said. "Worth a try, isn't it?"

Gwen sighed and dug through her purse. "Here, Elle," she said. "Have this chapstick."

"Thanks," Elle said taking it. Arthur and the rest watched her expectantly.

"Anything?" Gavin asked.

Elle looked around as though waiting for something like an anvil to fall upon her. "Nope," she declared after a moment. "Though thanks for the chapstick, Gwen. I lost mine yesterday."

She popped off the cap and ran it over her lips.

"You're welcome," Gwen said. "Sorry it didn't work."

"That's all right," Elle said. "I don't have time for dreams anyway. The Carol is still a mess after all. I'll just stick around for moral support. This is all like past lives, right?"

"I guess?" Arthur said.

Gwen shook her head. "But how? Queen Guinevere never really existed. She was made up."

"That's what I was going to say," Arthur said without meaning to. "At the game yesterday. Guinevere, not Gwendolyn."

"I thought that might have been the case. And you're King Arthur, of course." Her cheeks were dark with a blush.

"Arthur and Guinevere," Ambrose said. "How romantic."

Arthur glared. "Digitizing," he warned. "With the old scanner, not the new one."

Ambrose held up his hands in surrender. "Just making an observation."

"But they aren't, are they?" Gavin asked, brandishing his book. "In this Guinevere's great love is Lancelot."

"And I suppose you're Lancelot," Arthur said, irritated.

"No," David said. "That'd be me."

Arthur felt like a huge stone just ripped through his stomach. "What?" he asked, barely registering Ambrose asking the same. He tried to imagine David and Gwen together—kissing, holding hands—and wanted to be sick.

"I dreamed of Lainie," David said, looking uncomfortable. "She called me Lancelot. I think I called her Elaine."

"The Lady Elaine," Elle said. She hummed a couple bars of some song. "She was always the runner-up for Lancelot's love."

"Fantastic," Ambrose said. "Just great. Where does that put me then?"

Gwen reached over, touching Ambrose on the wrist. "You aren't Merlin," she said. "David isn't Lancelot. Even if they are memories, that's who we were, not who we are."

"What about you and Arthur then?" Ambrose asked.

"Hey," Arthur protested. "I liked her before I remembered anything."

Gwen's lips curled into a satisfied and happy smile. "You like me?" she asked.

"More than that," Gavin said. "He wants a relationship with you. After just a week too." He tsked.

"Is that true?" Gwen asked. Her stare speared Arthur to the shelves.

"Yes," he said.

Her smile broadened. "Let's talk about this later," she said. "Back to research. So, Ambrose is Merlin, David is Lancelot. Gavin, you are?"

"Gawain. Also, according to Wikipedia, called Gwaine or, interestingly, Gavin. Have you noticed that pattern with our names? Even David. Lancelot of the Lake, David Lake."

"Mine too," Ambrose said. When Arthur looked at him, he rolled his eyes. "You weren't the first to think of doing research, Arthur. One of Merlin's many names is Emrys and there are two versions of Emrys, one of which is Emrys Ambrosius." He opened up his laptop and started typing. "Here, I'll find the site I was on."

"Do you think Percy could be Percival?" David asked. The cover of his book read Parzival.

"No," Elle said before anyone else could answer. "No memories for Percy until after The Carol. I've seen how distracted you lot got."

"He doesn't even have any lines," Arthur said.

"No small parts," she quipped. She tossed one book toward a space at her feet. "That one's useless. Oh, but this looks interesting." She held up the book so that everyone could see the title. Gawain. "Well, Gavin, shall we find out your destiny?"

"It's not destiny," Gavin, David, and Ambrose protested at once.

"Besides," Gavin added. "Everyone already knows about Gawain anyway."

"Oh, yes," Ambrose said. "Gawain and the Green Knight. Fantastic bit of gay literature."

"Did we read the same book?" Arthur asked.

"He and the Green Knight make out." Ambrose started typing at his computer. "Here. Bertilak tells Gawain he must give back anything Bertilak's wife gives him. This leads to kissing. That aside, did you not pay attention to how Bertilak and the Green Knight was described? Very sensual." Ambrose began to read aloud:

Gawain felt that fortress had a fine lord:

a man in his prime, massively made;

his beard all beaver-brown, glossy and broad;

stern, stalwart in stance on his sturdy thighs,

his face bold as fire, a fair-spoken man -

who certainly seemed well-suited, he judged,

to rule there as master of excellent men.

"That's well and good," Gavin said. "But I'm not about to leave Elle for a green knight. So, can we set that aside perhaps and focus on something else? Like, say, Elle's role in this weird world?"

"Well," Gwen said, closing a thick book. "There are a lot of Elaines."

"I don't know if I feel like an Elaine," Elle said. "Besides, who I am doesn't matter. What matters is figuring out why this is happening to you guys." She shifted to her knees and reached over for one of the new age books beside Ambrose. She braced herself against a book as she leaned forward further and fell to her stomach.

"You okay?" David asked. He passed her a couple books while she pushed back onto her knees.

"I'm fine." She took the books and scooted back to where she'd been sitting.

"Oh, this should be interesting," Ambrose said. "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle."

"We're off the Gawain topic," Arthur said. "Elle has a point. Knowing the legends is only going to get us so far. Why is this happening?" He closed the book he'd been trying to read, even after Gwen's insistence that they weren't their past, he hadn't been able to get the image of her and David out of his head.

"Maybe we just live with it," Gwen said, closing her own book.

"But why us?" David asked.

"And why now?" Gavin added.

Arthur eyed Ambrose across the aisle. "I bet it was Merlin's fault," he said.

"Of course," Ambrose said, rolling his eyes. "Blame the sorcerer."

"He has a point," Gwen said. "In what I read, Merlin said that one day England would need Arthur again. There's a whole myth around the sleeping king."

"Not exactly England," Ambrose said.

"Hence, you screwed something up."

"Not that it matters," David said, "since that doesn't answer what we do next."

Gavin broke the silence. "As entertaining as this reflection on our inability to do anything with what's happening with us, do you mind if we go back to figuring out who people are? I enjoyed that more. Gwen, you said there are many Elaines?"

Gwen nodded, re-opening her book. "Elaine of Corbenic, mother of Galahad, by Lancelot. Um, Elaine, the Lady of Shallot, who died of unrequited love for, um—" she looked up nervously at David "—Lancelot."

"Are there any options that don't match my girlfriend with David? Wait, Ambrose, what did you say a moment ago before Arthur switched topics?"

"The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle?" Ambrose asked.

"Yes," Gavin said. "That. Ragnelle. Elle. Fits, don't you think?"

Elle laughed. "You think I'm your wife?" she asked.

"I hope so," Gavin said.

Elle stopped mid-laugh. "You're serious."

Arthur looked from one end of the aisle to the other, from Gavin's chagrined, but intent stare to Elle's pale surprise.

"You don't think it's a good idea?" Gavin asked.

"For Gawain and Ragnelle, or us?"

"Us."

"Did he just propose?" Ambrose asked, gesturing between the two.

Silence, then Gavin said, "Yes. I want you to be my Ragnelle."

"I don't suppose," Ambrose said, "this would be the time to mention how hideous Ragnelle was…"

Arthur kicked Ambrose while Gwen told him to "hush."

A smile broke through Elle's shock. She stood up, stepped over Gwen's legs, and ran to Gavin. She tripped over David, but Gavin was ready. He caught her. "Is that a yes, then?" he asked.

Elle laughed. "Yes." She reached up, catching Gavin in a kiss.

"Congratulations," Gwen said, but the happy pair barely paid her any attention.

"What do you say we call this a day?" David asked. He was already stacking up their books. "I doubt we'll get much more done."

"Yeah," Arthur agreed. "Not really sure what we're looking for anyway." He stacked up his own books, taking Gwen's as well. "I'm glad we did this though."

"Yes," Gwen said, handing him Elle's discarded books. "It is good to know we're not alone." She smiled.

"Come on," Arthur said. "Let's take these over to be re-shelved." Arthur didn't have all the answers he had hoped to find, but he no longer felt as strong a need to find any. They'd figure it out as it came.