Okay, finished this just about twenty minutes shy of actual Christmas Eve, sorry. Anyway. Christmas Eve is my FAVORITE day in December, so this chapter will probably be the longest.

Lots and lots and LOTS of bromance this chapter. Enjoy.

I make no comment as to the finale, because I am still processing and possibly slightly in denial. *wibbles*

The door to the physician's chambers cracked open, allowing a small beam of light to cut through the dark room. Gaius glanced up before turning back to his work. "Oh, there you are, Merlin," he said, still puttering around at his work table in the dim. "I wasn't expecting you. Careful with the door, there; I'm working on a medicine with Percival's new herbs and one of them seems to be rather light-sensitive—"

"Hello, Gaius."

The old man froze at the sound of the withered and decidedly female voice, his eyes widening. He slowly turned around on his stool.

Alice stood in front of the crack in the doorway, framed in light, with Merlin's grinning face poking in behind her.

"…Alice," he breathed before standing. They stepped toward each other, moving slowly as if they dared to believe their own eyes, and embraced in the middle of the room, Gaius chuckling softly around the tears in his eyes. They stepped away and held each other at arm's length.

A small sound echoed through the chambers; the door had squeaked as Merlin edged it closed. "Merlin!" Gaius said, taking his love's hand and pulling her toward the door. "What did you do?"

The warlock stopped, poked his head through the door again, and smiled. "I've had her pardon for a week now, but it took me some time to track her down again. It's your Midwinter gift." Gaius stared, speechless. "…Surprise!" Merlin added with a nervous little laugh.

"Oh, my dear boy—" he said, pulling his ward inside and letting go of Alice to wrap him in a great bear hug. Merlin smiled into Gaius' shoulder. "…Thank yo—"

"Ah," Merlin said, backing off; he still couldn't stand to be thanked. Gaius smiled at him. "Now, I'm just going to make myself scarce. You two have a good time catching up."

Alice frowned. "Oh, Merlin, I wouldn't want to kick you out of your room—"

"Don't worry," the warlock said. "I've got other plans for Eve of Peace. Freya and I do have a wedding to plan."

He slunk out again, leaving the two alone in the dark. Gaius smiled gently and once again took Alice's hands. "Have you ever worked with herbs from Munsalvaesche, my love?"

Ruling an estate that still primarily consisted of sorcerers meant a lot of posturing and tolerance and extra work during the holidays; Garis was exhausted. He hadn't gotten the chance to do much more than see his visiting brothers, he'd been so busy. Not even the Silence of the Light had been peaceful, as the young lord understood exactly what sort of threats his magical citizens were watching out for and the near-universal hush across the land had unnerved and silenced even Gwaine. Now Declaration of Enchantment had ended as well, and Garis had very nearly collapsed in bed out of sheer relief; Peace of Eve was only a small breather before the twelve-day Festival of Light that would begin tomorrow. Instead, he worried a hand through his shaggy red hair—he'd been too busy to get it cut—and slumped in his chair, bone-weary and anxious.

"Wow. You look horrible."

"Go away, Gwaine," he groaned, not looking up at the newcomer, but smiling nonetheless. He listened to his older brother pad his way across the room. He must have dozed off for a second, too, because before he knew it, a hand dropping onto the top of his head was startling him awake.

"Fair way to treat the man likely to keep you sane 'til new year," Gwaine said, his voice soft and fond. He motioned to a servant outside the hall. "Dinner for four, if you don't mind."

Garis swallowed another groan. "Oh, sweet Camelot, Gwin, I forgot about you coming in this evening."

The elder knight chuckled. "Relax, the other two forgot, too. I've called Gravain in from the training grounds—does he sleep there, too? The insolent pup's stolen my hair, too, have you noticed, and he'll be copying my voice next. And I think I've managed to drag G'reth, that idiot, away from the poor Lion woman he's been trailing ever since we got here. If I'm lucky, he won't want to leave."

A weary smirk crossed Garis' face. "Joy. I'm not sure which is more daft, the fact that G'reth's found a girl, or the fact that she seems to like him back."

"They're both in over their heads, if you ask me," Gwaine said. "Daft or not, he'll be here, soon, and Gravain, too. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Just overworked. I swear, Emrys and Vivienne are probably the only two people in all of Albion more tired than I am now." He yawned and rubbed his eyes, cursing winter and snow and changing hours. "I'm sorry I've not been a better host."

Gwaine chuckled somewhere by his ear and squeezed his shoulder. "Your subjects have been more than willing to entertain. Besides, I'm getting to see you at your finest. You may not ever want to be king, but you were born to command something. I should know. You've been bossing me around ever since you were old enough to talk."

Garis laughed, a strong, heady, deep laugh that made Gwaine smile, too, and leaned back, gently butting the back of his head into his brother's chest. "…Oh, I'm glad you're here, Gwin. So glad you're here."

Gwaine smirked and ruffled his brother's hair. "My pleasure. And maybe we can see about a haircut after dinner. I don't need two ginger mini-Gwaines running around Westmorland."

Leon tightened his grip on the reigns and gave Camelot's towers another wistful glance as he lead his horse out of the stables and past the gates of the city proper. A band of about thirty knights and five of Merlin's fighting sorcerers had gathered there, ready to head out on patrol. It was a shorter run, if that was any consolation at all, and he'd only be gone a few days, but it was a few days too late, as far as he was concerned. He straightened up as he drew closer, his mouth set in a firm, threatening line. It was his job. More than that, his duty. It wasn't the end of the world.

He would have kept walking toward the group, too, if another knight hadn't caught his arm. "Oh, Sir Leon, I'd hoped I'd catch you before you were completely ready," he said, sounding a bit disappointed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Leon asked, frowning. A hundred scenarios flittered through his head of things bad enough that people were seeking him, eldest of the Inner Round Table, specifically.

"Nothing's wrong, sir," the young man said. "It's just, we don't need you, after all."

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "What do you mean, you don't need me?"

The man glanced toward the end of the line of armed knights. "We had two volunteers, Senior knights, step forward at the last minute. There's not really much point having three of you along, is there? You're eldest, so you get to go home."

Leon's frown faded as he scanned the line, daring to hope. His eyes caught a sudden unnatural movement close to the end—Percival and Elyan were there, in full armor, waving at him. He left his horse's reigns in the young knight's hands and jogged toward the others, grinning at him like a pair of fools. "What do you two think you're doing?" he asked as he came within hearing distance.

"It's your Midwinter present," Percival said. "Enjoy it, will you?"

"But—but—"

"I don't really have anyone to celebrate with tonight," the big knight went on. "And don't go feeling sorry for me. I'm fine. All the big, happy families cozying up together is a bit nauseating, that's all."

"And we've both been nothing but in pain for the last few days," Elyan chipped in. "Me from all the lights and sounds and Percival from Munsalvaesche telling him what to do. We could both get away from the city. Gwen's with friends I don't know and I'd rather not ride all the way through Old Orkney to celebrate where my uncle has stationed Cameliard this month just to be bombarded by more celebrating magicians. We could both use some time away from the city."

"And a chance to get to tell everyone else what to do," Percival added, looking mischievously at the company of young, eager faces looking up at the senior knights with varying degrees of hero-worship.

Elyan nodded. "And according to Percival here, you'd like some time off, too."

Leon opened his mouth, then closed it, then grinned, his smile wavering a little. "…I…I don't know what to say…"

Elyan rolled his eyes. "Then don't say anything! Go! If you hurry, they may not have started without you!"

He jumped. "Right!" he said, waving them off and yelling for the knight to give his horse to a stable boy as he dashed off. The sun was setting and the streets were mostly empty, leaving him free to run through the lower town into the councilman's district without worrying about running anyone over. Still dressed in full armor, he ran up to the door of North Manor and leaned against the frame for a long moment, catching his breath. Then he stood up straight and knocked. Usually he'd barge right in, but for all intents and purposes he should have been out of Camelot by now—he needed to knock.

Standing there, slowly getting covered in heavy-falling snow, his breath misting before him, he could feel the warmth from the fire through the door and hear the low murmur of voices. A warm feeling rose in his chest—it felt like home, plain and simple. He knocked again, a little harder, and this time the voices settled and he heard a chair scraping on the floor. The voices picked up again. He waited a few moments more and was about to knock again and the door swung open, revealing Andrivete North in a loose, comfortable gown, blinking at him in disbelief. "…Leon?"

"Ann," he whispered, grinning in spite of himself.

She frowned. "…Aren't you supposed to be on your way into the Darkling Woods right now?" Her frown deepened. "Don't tell me you've just come to say goodbye. That's just too cruel."

"No," he said. "Um…do you mind letting me in? It's sort of cold out here."

She blinked again, then swung the door open a bit wider. "Come on, then. Come in. Hold on and I'll get that chainmail off of you. You know how Mother feels about armor and weapons in the house."

He chuckled and stepped inside with a shiver, undoing his sword belt and dropping it on a bench lining the wall. "Yes, sorry. This was all a bit of a rush, really." He undid the clasp and pulled off the shoulder plate.

She harrumphed at him, pushing the heavy door closed with her back. "Arms up," she said briskly, already brushing her hands against his sides. He laughed and lifted his arms, allowing her to pull the chainmail shirt over his head. "Hey, people, come look what the cat dragged in!" she yelled into the other room as he tucked his shirt in and rubbed his arms, still fighting a bit of a chill.

There was a confused sound, and the sound of more scraping chairs. Lady and Lord North came in first—Lady North released an exclamation of joy and came over to pinch his cheeks as always while her husband came forward to clap Leon on the shoulder. Lord Ector came in next ("Son! Why the devil didn't you tell us you'd be able to show up after all!") and Guinevere after him ("What are you still doing here?" though she was clearly thrilled to see him).

"Uh, Percival and Elyan took my place," he said, a little sheepishly as the Queen of all Albion beamed at him and kissed his cheek. He looked up and his blush deepened. Standing in the entryway was Walter de Kay, taller and less muscular than his younger brother, but with the same tawny hair and clear green eyes. His wife, a small, delicate, doll-like noblewoman called Helre stood next to him.

"Hello, little lion," Walter said, his voice deep and resonate.

Leon snurled his nose in distaste. "Hello, great wart."

The two stared at each other, tense and angry, for only a second longer before Walter broke and grinned, crossing the room to grasp his brother by the shoulders and look him up and down before pulling him close. The entire company laughed and slapped the pairs' backs while Ector stepped forward and finished off the family hug. Babbling to each other about conquests and land gains, the brothers led the way back into the dining room.

Loneliness did not become the King of Albion, Arthur told himself, but he was lonely regardless. He had dismissed George for the night several hours before (and he had to get a servant with an actual sense of humor for times like these, or he was going to go mad) and had resigned himself to a long evening of paperwork. A long night that turned into a short evening. Gwen had been taking care of paperwork all week, leaving a lot less for Arthur to drown his sorrows in than he would have liked. He poured himself a goblet of mulled wine and walked over to the window, looking to the twinkling lights of the city and the druid camp outside its walls. He sighed and rocked back on his heels, ignoring the hollow feeling in his stomach that told him not having the heart to eat didn't excuse him from actually eating anything. He sipped from his cup before tearing himself away from the window and wandering back over to his desk, fishing around. There had to be something left unfinished for him to work on.

The door opened. The king tensed, hand going for the dagger on the table. "…Who's there?" he called, gripping the handle tightly.

A rather ridiculous raven-topped face peeked its way around a tapestry. "Only me, Clotpole."

"Merlin," Arthur growled, feeling much warmer now, dropping the dagger. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I don't see why. I never knock." The warlock swaggered in, tray in hands filled with an assortment of meats, fruits, cheeses, and sweets. "I hope you've got mulled wine in here. What am I saying? It's you in winter. Of course there's mulled wine."

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Arthur asked, folding his arms across his chest and Merlin sat down at the breakfast table and crunched into an apple.

He chewed for a bit, but didn't bother swallowing before replying. "Eating. Why, what are you doing?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have some druid-king business to attend to? Or a wedding to plan?"

Merlin shrugged. "Magical weddings don't need all that much planning. Freya and I talked dates and extra spells this afternoon, but she was far more interested in kidnapping Galahad to make sure nothing was disturbed in the Lands of the Dead. And today's Eve of Peace. No one needs me. I figured I may as well come up and give you your present, since I have nothing better to do." The shining-fond look in his eyes as he glanced sideways at his friend belayed the casual tone of the words. He took another huge bite of apple, eyeing the pitcher on Arthur's desk as he chewed. "You could come over here and eat something. George said you skipped dinner tonight. You must be hungry."

"I don't need you and George mothering me," Arthur said.

"I brought your favorite."

"Not pickled eggs?"

Merlin smirked and held up a large bunch of green grapes. That did it. The king broke out into a huge grin and headed over. "Don't forget the pitcher!" Merlin shouted. Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed the wine as he went.

He set the pitcher down on the table. "You're in my chair."

"Tough."

Arthur sighed sharply and pushed Merlin out of the seat with his hip. Merlin hit the floor with a yelp, causing the king to snort. Merlin butted Arthur's leg, and after a bit of arguing and half-hearted wrestling, they ended up sharing the chair. Merlin glared as the king popped a grape into his mouth and smirked, looking for the world like his sister. "I don't know if you've noticed, Merlin, but you've got these huge bags under your eyes. That really can't be healthy."

Merlin grinned, finishing off his apple. "Can't it just? I'm running on energy potions and sheer willpower at the moment, and I shall likely hibernate when the Festival of Light is over. Freya's the same."

"Mmm. Midwinter that brutal?"

"You have no idea. Cake?"

"Don't mind if I do."

"Give up watching your waistline, did you?"

Arthur groaned and Merlin cackled and passed him a slice of cake, taking a piece of ham for himself. He pulled a small cloth sack seemingly out of thin air—Arthur's eyes widened in delight; he'd never get tired of that sort of thing—and slid it in front of the king. "There you go, Prat. I've always touched up the enchantments on your armor and finished the dungeons as well, but Midwinter gifts are supposed to be fun as well as practical."

Arthur gave him a curious look and shook the contents of the sack onto his hand. "…You got me a cloak clasp," he said, running his thumb over the plain silver. "Not even a very interesting clasp either."

The warlock rolled his eyes. "I enchanted you a cloak clasp, you idiot. There's a "don't-notice-me" spell on it."

Arthur bit down his initial feelings of oh-sweet-Camelot-this-thing-is-magical?! and instead raised an eyebrow. "Why would I need a don't-notice-me spell?"

"In case you need to do any sneaking around. Or in case we need to do some sneaking around. I'm tired of covering for you. I've got a neckerchief with the same spell."

"No, I mean why don't-notice-me? Wouldn't an invisibility spell be more practical?"

"Everyone thinks that," Merlin said, and the exasperation in his voice told Arthur he'd had this argument before. "But it's not true. A don't-notice-me gives you the same protection…and an alibi. People who see you will remember seeing you after the fact, but they won't quite remember where."

It was one of the best presents he'd ever gotten, but he wasn't about to tell Merlin that. "That does sound a bit handier. Not sure about the fun part."

Merlin snorted. "Clearly you don't have much of an imagination in the way of pranks. This little beauty can make a person think they're losing their mind, if you use it right."

"Oh really?" The king slowly smiled.

His friend caught on quickly. "…After we finish eating, do you want to try it out?"

"You read my mind."

"Thanks, but I'm not quite that powerful."

Note: That "Lion" girl G'reth was attracted to? In legend, Gareth marries a girl called either Lyonesse or Lyonorr, and Garis marries her sister Lynette/Lyonette. Still debating on what's going on there, in terms of this story, but have fun with that fact anyway. Also, Kay was originally just Arthur's brother, but I've given Leon an older brother because younger brothers are typically the knights of the family. And I've called him Walter as an excuse to call him Wart, thank you T. H. White.

Have a merry Christmas Eve!

ed: reposted because, like a dingbat, I forgot scene breaks.