Quick thanks for all the reviews and the continued interest in favoriting and following this series! Nope, it's definitely not abandoned or dead...I've just been a bit of a zombie about writing. I love my job and family, but OY! they sure know how to drain the energy out of a person. One more month until it's back-to-school (All the parents out there, let's bow our heads in a moment of gratitude. The end of summer vacation is in sight!)

I have been messing with a lot of the upcoming chapters and have at least 5 written...if I can get them in working order. It's one of those things where I have all the pieces, but the directions on assembly were in a foreign language. Anyhoo! Thanks ever so much to Nance for proofreading, as well as to IcarusLSU and Matthew1972 for helping with some flow, and to many others at theheartofcamelot chatroom for various encouragement and assistance.


"Any luck?"

The muttered reply was nearly unintelligible, though Arthur was sure he'd heard the word 'clotpole' at least once.

He'd paced the floor, flipped through stacks of parchment, cleaned his sword, and was contemplating polishing his own boots...he was that bored. Merlin's nose was buried so far into a book that Arthur doubted he could get his cousin to do it for him.

Bran had rejoined the evening before, after Vivienne had followed Tristan out, and informed them of what Taliesin knew. There had been nothing of great importance for them to have been thrust back into the past. No rare alignment of the stars, or great cosmic event; no massive outbursts of magic...even the dragons had been quiet.

Vivienne had returned just as it began to grow dark outside with a scowl on her face. Arthur had questioned her about Tristan, but she only grumbled about how stubborn and asinine he was being.

By the next morning Tristan still hadn't returned to the cottage, and the others began to grow concerned. They needed to find out where Aylass was being kept, and now where her father had wandered off to, as well.

Concerns turned to tempers as they were all sick of being trapped and not having any idea on how to get back home. Gwaine finally had enough and decided he needed some space.

Taliesin had left to take care of some business that morning, and despite the bard's warnings that they should stay put, Arthur decided to send the others out to do recon in the city while they waited.

Vivienne and Enmyria headed off toward the meadow where Vivienne had left her friend to see if they could track him from there. Meanwhile Bran and Leon went to scout out the town with Morgana. She wanted to find out about any magic in the area they could use.

Arthur wanted desperately to be with them in their search, but his knights and Merlin forced him to stay put.

"Just in case this isn't some weird time travel, Sire," Leon had implored, "Then we need you to stay safely hidden. Just think of what would happen to Camelot if you were captured again and they found out who you are."

Reluctantly, he had agreed. Merlin was so wrapped up in the contents of the cellar that he'd begun flipping through scrolls and books the moment the first rays of light had come streaming through the single, small window of the room.

Barely large enough for a child to fit through, it served as the only view of the outside world, which seemed to be in an unkempt area on the outskirts of the city.

Standing around watching Merlin sift through Taliesin's hidden library was even more boring than sitting through countless meeting about taxes. He was antsy and needed to do something. Sadly, picking on Merlin seemed to be his only option.

"Your wife is right, you do look much younger." He said, reaching for something that would break the silence that had fallen between him and his best friend.

"Thanks."

He resisted the urge to throw a book at Merlin for the one-word reply."Why do you look younger?"

"Arthur, if I knew that I might be closer to figuring out what's going on."

"You don't have that stick of yours. Maybe that has something to do with it?"

"Maybe, but I doubt it."

"Why don't you have your stick?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. He'd already explained to Arthur that he'd hidden it before confronting Cernunnos to get Duran back.

"If I had a stick, I could whack you over the head with it for being so utterly dull."

For a brief moment, Merlin paused and stared at his cousin. He contemplated conjuring a rash or something to keep Arthur occupied, but then realized he'd have to listen to the constant complaints that followed.

He was more than just a little relieved to hear the door upstairs open. It hopefully meant someone had come back with news. Even if they didn't, it would provide a much needed distraction for Arthur, at least for a little while.

They were not expecting Tristan to come stumbling down the stairs into the hidden library. He reeked of alcohol and piss, and if the stains on his shirt were anything to go by, the man had obviously slept in the alley behind some wretched tavern.

Dull blue eyes barely glanced at the two men, as he made his way to the far wall and slumped down against it.

"Nice of you to rejoin us," Arthur deadpanned.

"Piss off."

Glancing at Merlin, he and Arthur shared in an eye roll. It was quite obvious Tristan was still drunk.

"My daughter seems to have made herself quite at home, wherever this is. At least she is now with someone more respectable than a pisspour knight who is nothing but trouble."

"Gwaine is a fine man, and one of my most trusted knights. He loves your daughter and will do anything for her. I will not hear you say otherwise."

Tristan merely shrugged, not even having the energy to argue.

"You were nearly dead before this all happened. Let me take a look at you." Merlin closed his book and stood up. He took shallow breaths through his mouth to try and keep from smelling the foul odors that surrounded Tristan. The former smuggler didn't protest as Merlin began evaluating him.

"You're still awfully thin, and I'm sure it didn't take much ale to reach the state you're in."

Bleary eyes focused into a icy glare. "What good is coming back from the dead to see my daughter first with a scoundrel, and then laughing it up with a man who appears to be a king. No thought of me, or anyone else on her mind. I thought I'd lost everything when Isolde was killed, everything but her. Now, even she is like a stranger to me."

Merlin pouched his cheeks before exhaling slowly. He couldn't seem to find any explanation for Tristan's recovery, though there was a lingering air of magic around him.

The warlock wished he had access to some of Gaius' library, or even just his mentor's mind. Although the aging physician's body had been failing him of late, Gaius' mind was still as sharp as ever...or it had been weeks before, when Merlin last saw him.

It pained him to realize how long it had been since he had been home. His eyes flitted toward Arthur. They both had family back in Camelot and he knew the king was just as anxious to get home and see Gwen and their son. But, for now, Arthur was doing a superb job at being patient. It amazed Merlin to see how much Arthur had changed over the years.

He looked up, startled, as Gwaine suddenly came bounding down the stairs.

"You'll never guess who I ran across!"

"Who, Gwaine?" Arthur was hungering for any news outside the cellar.

"Well, it wasn't Aylass. But, I now see why she may have been herded off away from us." He paused when he saw Tristan staring viciously at him.

Arthur waved his hands impatiently, encouraging Gwaine to continue.

"There's a reason Cernunnos thought she looked like his daughter. Hell, even I was fooled for a few moments by Queen Florie...Bruta's wife." He proceeded to explain what had happened in the marketplace.

"So, that wasn't my daughter I saw?" Tristan suddenly asked. When the other three men looked at him questioningly, Tristan reluctantly broke out of his shell and told them of the woman he'd been spying on the night before.

"There was nothing ever mentioned in the history books, or none that I saw, that suggested Bruta was married to a Fae women." Arthur knew he wasn't well versed on the ancient history of his family or Camelot. He'd already learned more in the past few years than he had ever imagined possible.

Merlin chuckled, "Well, even if there had been, do you honestly think your father would have allowed that information to survive? It would have been too close to magic for his liking."

"I thought we were related to Bran, though... How can it be that we are related to both?"

Shrugging, Merlin held out a waterskin to Tristan before rising and moving over to Arthur. He was happy to see the old smuggler finally sobering up. The news that what he saw was a case of mistaken identity seemed to breath new life back into the man. "Maybe one of Bran's descendants married one of Bruta's a few generations out?, Geoffrey would be able to figure. We'll have to look into it more when we get back home."

"What about my descendants?" Bran and Leon climbed down the stairs into the cellar.

"Oh, just trying to work on a family tree to pass the time." Merlin offered cheekily. "You know, instead of figuring out how to get us home. I thought I'd take time to work on a personal project."

He glanced at the opening where the men had come from and was about to question the whereabouts of his wife when Arthur jumped in. "Actually, we just found out that the woman who Cernunnos thought Aylass was is here."

"Yes, we saw her in the streets earlier and for a moment thought she was Aylass. We were about to approach her when someone else beat us to it." Leon smiled jokingly at Gwaine. "Ah, when your love hears how you offered someone else a flower..."

Gwaine flipped his hair back and was about to respond when Tristan made a sound of disapproval. The roguish knight reached for a bottle of wine left on the table instead, pointedly ignoring both of them.

"Aside from that, I did see something that concerns me. There was a man with a rather unique looking, black cape. He kept closer to the castle, but there was something off about him... something familiar. I just can't place where I'd seen him before. Morgana wanted to follow him a bit, she should return shortly."

"Interesting. Hopefully, she can learn a bit more about him. If there is someone else here from our time, he might be the key this mess." Merlin's eyes narrowed in thought. He worried about his wife being out there on her own, but knew that her magic was strong should she run into any trouble. "Is there anything else you can tell me about this man?"

"He was older - long beard, white hair. Made my skin crawl. There was power about it, and a complete arrogance in the way he moved. His cloak, from what I could tell, appeared to be made out of black feathers."

"Like a raven?" Arthur held his breath.

"Yes. Actually, that is a very good description of the man."

"Merlin?" Arthur looked over at his friend, deep concern filling his eyes. Morgana's recent vision had shown her a raven. Also, as a coincidence, Arthur's encounter with the bird following them through the forest came to mind. But, the thing that sent shivers down his spine was an attack on Camelot years ago, when he was still just a prince.

Merlin had warned Arthur that his new servant, Cedric, had been possessed after the tomb of an evil sorcerer had been found underneath Camelot. It was dark and foggy. The gargoyles meant to serve as immobile, silent stone guardians around the city had come to life.

Despite the desperate situation, a smile of remembrance lifted the corners of his mouth when he recalled how Guinevere had shoved him to the ground and saved him. That was the night he believed he truly fell in love with her.

He'd ordered Geraint to retreat, and as he glanced around him towards the rooftops, Arthur had seen Cedric. But, it wasn't Cedric. "Merlin, when exactly are we?"