A/N: Thank you Guest, Eris, Buckhunter, GuestM, SnidgetHex, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing! I'm glad you liked the first part. Now for Arthur and Gwaine to arrive...
"Part II"
Freya tells Elyan that Gwaine and Arthur will be arriving shortly. The news fills him with elation, until he remembers what that means, and the revelation that Arthur is dead rocks Elyan to his core.
"What about that great destiny he was supposed to fulfill?"
Freya shrugs sadly. "Fate works in mysterious ways. This is only one end of one story."
Elyan doesn't care for the cryptic answers, though he's learned by now that Freya isn't intentionally being obscure. She's an instrument of fate too, not an agent of it.
She suggests Elyan be the one to greet his friends, a familiar face to help ease the transition. Elyan agrees and heads to the clearing that he awoke in. Gwaine and Arthur are there and already rising to their feet and looking around in confusion. Arthur is dressed in full battle armor, whereas Gwaine is in a dark tunic. They did not die on the same battlefield. Elyan wants to ask what happened but he knows how shocking waking up dead can be so he holds it in.
Arthur and Gwaine seem to already be asking each other those very questions when Elyan calls out and interrupts them.
"Arthur."
They turn toward him, and there's a moment of stunned surprise, followed by wide smiles as they move forward. Elyan heartily embraces Arthur, then Gwaine.
"What are you…" Gwaine starts, then stops. "Ah, right."
"I'm afraid so," Elyan says. "Welcome to Avalon."
"The lake?" Arthur asks dubiously.
"Best I can figure, under it?" Elyan speculates.
Arthur's brows knit together. "Merlin was trying to bring me there. He thought he could save me."
"Is he all right?" Gwaine asks urgently.
Arthur nods slowly. "Yeah, he's fine. He…he was the sorcerer. At the battle."
Gwaine quirks a perplexed brow at that. "Merlin?"
Elyan can't help but smirk at the similar reaction to his finding out. He hesitates, then asks, "Gwen?"
Arthur blinks, expression twisting with grief and then understanding. "She's well," he says softly. "I think. I hope."
Gwaine nods. "She is. So is Percival and Leon. They'll be by her side."
"And Merlin," Elyan puts in, half as a question.
Arthur nods along as well. "Yes."
Silence falls between them, and after a few moments Gwaine scuffs his boot and looks around. "So…what is this place again?"
"A sanctuary for Albion's greatest warriors," Elyan answers. "Supposedly we are to rest here until we are needed again."
"Says who?" Gwaine scans the forest dubiously.
"Freya. She's the guardian of this place. You'll meet her soon. But first…there's something you should know. Lancelot is here."
Both of them look at him dumbly for a moment.
"Lancelot?" Arthur repeats, posture stiffening.
"Well," Gwaine says, equally taut. "That's unexpected."
"What happened with Guinevere wasn't him," Elyan tries to explain. "He told us he didn't die in the veil, that he was found by the nomads and then made his way back to Camelot. It was all a lie. He did die in the veil, and Morgana brought him back. He was under her control when he…when he came between you and Gwen."
Arthur and Gwaine are looking at him skeptically, and he knows how it sounds; he doubted too at first.
"It wasn't really him," Elyan emphasizes. "It was a shade. It looked and sounded like him but it was Morgana all along."
Arthur looks shaken. "Morgana," he breathes, and he turns away.
Gwaine sucks in a sharp breath. "Arthur…I…I'm the reason Morgana found you. I- I gave you up."
Elyan frowns at that, but Arthur turns back, and his expression is full of sadness.
"I know Morgana, and I know you. If you told her where to find me, she must have used methods no mortal man could endure." Arthur reaches a hand out to clasp Gwaine's shoulder. "You're here after all."
Gwaine ducks his gaze. "I'm still sorry."
Arthur squeezes his shoulder. "I was dying before Morgana caught up to us. It didn't change anything. She is finally dead, though."
Gwaine nods. "Good."
Arthur turns to Elyan. "I suppose we should go see Lancelot."
Elyan smiles tentatively but then sobers and says, "There's something else. Lancelot…isn't quite himself."
"Are you saying that shade thing is here?" Gwaine exclaims.
"No! He's just…" Elyan sighs. "You'll see what I mean."
He gestures for them to follow and leads them through the forest to the waterfall where Lancelot is standing by the pool. Freya is there, poised with preemptive protectiveness in case this reunion goes the way Elyan's did.
"This is Freya," Elyan introduces. "The Lady of the Lake."
She nods to them. "Welcome, King Arthur, Sir Gwaine." She reaches out and touches Lancelot's shoulder, drawing his attention away from the water spirits. "Lancelot, more friends are here."
He turns and lights up at the sight of them. With a beaming smile, he strides over and pulls Arthur into a hug. Arthur is momentarily taken aback and doesn't return the embrace. Lancelot doesn't seem to notice and turns to Gwaine next, who at least manages to pat him on the back.
"It's so good to see you," Lancelot says. "How are you?"
Gwaine snorts. "Alright for being dead, I suppose."
Lancelot quirks a confused look at him, and Elyan jumps in.
"They had a long journey to get here," he says hurriedly.
"Oh, of course. I'm afraid we don't have a banquet table for you, but there's plenty of fruit that grows in these woods. I'll gather some for you. You must be hungry." He heads off into the trees without another word, and Freya gives them all a small smile before going after him.
"Uh, what was that?" Gwaine asks.
"That's what I mean," Elyan says sadly. "Freya said after Morgana brought him back and enslaved his soul, it left him…not entirely whole."
"He doesn't know he's dead?" Gwaine hisses next.
"I think he does, on some level," Elyan replies. "He just doesn't fully understand it."
Arthur is staring in the direction Lancelot went, expression pinched. "So, that grave betrayal…Lancelot knows nothing about it."
Elyan grimaces. "He remembers sometimes. Remembers being trapped in his own body unable to stop what was happening. Those are not good moments."
"I thought the worst of him for so long," Arthur murmurs.
"We all did," Elyan says, understanding the regret.
Lancelot and Freya return then with a handful of berries that Lancelot happily offers to Arthur and Gwaine. They accept hesitantly, but Lancelot doesn't notice their reticence.
"Can you stay a while?" he asks.
Arthur and Gwaine share a look at that, and Gwaine nods.
"Yeah, we'll stay a while."
Lancelot smiles brightly and then goes to sit by the pool in his favorite spot.
Freya turns to address Arthur and Gwaine. "This place is safe and you will find rest here."
"For how long?" Arthur asks tightly.
"For however long the respite lasts."
With that, she excuses herself.
Elyan shrugs. "Yeah, she doesn't have a lot of specific answers. You get used to it."
They stand around awkwardly for a few moments before Gwaine goes over to sit on the ground across from Lancelot, crossing his legs. Lancelot is picking flowers and twining the stems together into a wreath.
"Never took you for a flower weaver," Gwaine comments with a light tease.
"It's for Freya."
Gwaine perks up at that. "Yeah? You two have something going on?"
Lancelot shoots his head up, looking scandalized. "No! Freya loves Merlin."
Now that's a revelation that raises everyone's eyebrows.
"But she's taken care of me here," Lancelot goes on, oblivious. "And she deserves beautiful things. She's lonely too."
Elyan furrows his brow in contemplation over that insight. It isn't something he's noticed, but now that he thinks about it, he can see the signs, and he's surprised Lancelot was astute enough to recognize it. But then, the two of them are pretty close. Before Elyan, they were the only company each other had.
Arthur runs a hand through his hair. "This is all too much," he mutters.
"I know," Elyan says in sympathy. "It's a lot to adjust to." He thrusts his chin at Arthur's armor. "You want help out of all that?"
Arthur looks down at himself and pauses. Discarding his armor no doubt feels like giving in to their new reality and accepting it, which he's likely not ready to face just yet. But it will also be uncomfortable trekking around under the bulky weight, so Arthur finally nods and Elyan helps him shuck the protective plating and chainmail. Arthur regards the last piece for a long moment before letting it drop on the ground with a thud.
"So," Arthur says, attempting to shake off his melancholy. "What is there to do around here?"
Elyan scoffs. "Not much. They take 'rest' fairly literally, although you won't get tired or hungry."
Arthur frowns. "Then why the fruit?"
"Because it's enjoyable."
They're interrupted by a change in Gwaine's tone as he calls Lancelot's name. Elyan turns and spots his friend still sitting on the ground, but the wreath he was working on lies in lax hands and his gaze is distant, settled on the pile of armor.
"Hey, Lancelot," Gwaine says a little more tensely, leaning forward to wave a hand in front of his eyes.
Elyan hurries over and kneels in front of him, blocking his view of the armor. He clasps the sides of Lancelot's neck and gives a light squeeze. "Lancelot, come back to me. Listen to my voice and follow it back to the glade."
It takes a few moments for Lancelot's eyes to flick up to his, and then his brows furrow in confusion. "I remember a tournament."
"We had several tournaments," Elyan says casually, purposefully brushing off the one he's pretty sure just came to the forefront of Lancelot's memory. "Why don't you get some rest now. Gwaine and Arthur will still be here later."
"Okay."
Lancelot docilely lets Elyan ease him down onto his side facing the waterfall. Elyan then scoots to the water's edge and stirs the pool, rousing the Vilia within its depths. The glowing orbs rise up from the surface and float in the air, captivating Lancelot's attention and lulling him to sleep.
Elyan breathes a sigh of relief and moves back.
"Let me guess," Gwaine huffs. "One of those bad moments?"
"That was a mild one," Elyan answers. "The more severe episodes cause him physical pain, like he's reliving Morgana's torment."
"I thought this place was supposed to offer peace," Arthur says bitterly.
"He's actually much better than he was when I got here. He barely said a word then."
Arthur just shakes his head and walks away. Elyan leaves him be, knowing he needs space to process everything. Besides, there's nowhere to go.
.o.0.o.
Gwaine sits with his back against a tree, one leg drawn up, and whittles away at the chunk of wood in his hand. He's rusty, but now seems as good a time as any to take up the hobby again, since he apparently has all the time in the world to sit around and otherwise do nothing. He's certainly not going to prowl about the isle like a grumpy lion the way Arthur has been doing.
It's strange, Gwaine feels like he's adjusted to the whole being dead thing rather well. Having the company of friends has helped, even though Arthur is currently unapproachable and Lancelot is half in his own world most of the time. Gwaine doesn't mind that, though. The companionable silence with him is comforting.
"Where did you get a knife?" Elyan asks incredulously as he comes into the glade. "I didn't have my weapons when I woke up here."
"Me neither," he replies. "I asked Freya for it."
Elyan's brows shoot up to his hairline. "You asked Freya for a knife? And she brought you one?"
Gwaine shrugs and twirls the point of the blade up at the surrounding tree tops. "I'm only going to wield it on wood. I guess that doesn't break the sanctity of this place."
Elyan's forehead creases in thought and he comes over. "I've never seen you carve anything before."
Gwaine shrugs one shoulder again and chips away a few more notches on the piece. "Old habit. Wasn't much use for it as a knight. Here, though, seems like a good use of time."
Elyan watches him whittle away more of the wood chips. "That's really good."
"Thanks." He blows on the simple horse carving to disperse the shavings, then twists around and taps Lancelot's shoulder to give the piece to him.
Lancelot lights up as he takes it. "It's beautiful."
It doesn't take much to mesmerize him; he's almost childlike in that way. Gwaine gives his arm a friendly knock and picks up another chunk to start his next piece. After a moment's thought, he turns back to Lancelot.
"You want to learn?"
Lancelot immediately scoots closer, expression open and eager.
Gwaine angles the blade against the grain and begins to outline the process as he goes about it, slow and patient. Lancelot watches with rapt attention, and Gwaine smiles to himself, because as long as his friend is occupied with this, those dark memories can't intrude. So he takes it slowly, one single scrape at a time.
After all, they have all the time in the world.
.o.0.o.
Elyan is honestly amazed at how good Gwaine is with Lancelot. He never would have expected such patient tenderness from the normally cavalier and boisterous man. But Gwaine is nothing but kind and understanding with their affected friend, and he doesn't seem to feel the need to fill the silence like Elyan does, the two of them able to just sit and be.
It's good, because that frees up Elyan to try to corral their wayward king. Arthur is not coping as well as the rest of them in Avalon. It's not surprising; he's behaving much the same as Elyan had when he first arrived, so Elyan knows all the places to track him down at.
He finds Arthur sitting on a rock and staring morosely at the ground.
"Arthur," he speaks to announce himself.
Arthur doesn't look up, but he fidgets slightly so at least Elyan knows he heard him.
"Why don't you come back to the glade?"
"No thanks."
Elyan hesitates, then carefully asks, "Is it Lancelot?"
"No. Of course not."
"So you're avoiding all of us."
Arthur shoots him a dark scowl. "I just want to be alone."
"You've been alone for a while. I get it; I did the same when I first got here. But the sooner you accept it, the easier it will get."
Arthur huffs irritably and shifts on the rock so he's angled away from Elyan.
Elyan sighs, lingers for a few more moments, then turns and leaves. If Arthur isn't ready, pushing him won't help matters.
.o.0.o.
Arthur stands on the shores, gazing out at a horizon that doesn't exist, at an ocean and sky that are one solid sphere of rippling water. Dying was bad enough but being trapped here in this…limbo, is worse. He wants to get back to Guinevere, get back to Camelot and make sure everyone is okay. There has to be a way…
He marches into the shallow waves, the water rising up around his legs, then his waist. The current grows heavy around him, pushing back so that it's like slogging through mire. But Arthur refuses to give up. He lunges forward and tries to swim, thinking that if he can just make it to the edge of this realm, he can break through into the land of the living again.
The waves slosh and churn around him, and then he's abruptly sucked beneath the surface. He flails in an effort to escape, but with no sun he can't tell up from down and he's twisting and contorting as the current tosses him back and forth. His lungs scream, and he suddenly wonders if he can die a second time and what happens then, if he'll be spat back out on the isle or end up somewhere worse.
He is thrown back into the shallows, his head breaking the surface long enough to gasp in a desperate lungful of air. Voices yell his name, and a few moments later, hands roughly grab his arms and start to heave. Arthur's feet scrabble for purchase on the slippery rocks as he's hauled out of the surf and onto the beach. Gwaine and Elyan collapse beside him, soaking wet.
"What were you thinking?" Gwaine snaps.
"I just want to go home!"
Gwaine pivots away from him and shakes out his dripping hair. Elyan just gives him a sad, understanding look. Arthur shrugs away from them both and turns onto his knees, facing the tree line of his prison. Lancelot is standing at the edge, watching with a fearful look on his face. Arthur averts his gaze from him too and staggers to his feet to go lurching down the shoreline.
He walks under a blue kaleidoscope sky until his clothes have dried and his frustration has tempered. It was a foolish move, he knows that. Who is he to cheat death? The great king of Camelot? Merlin is supposedly the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived and even he couldn't prevent Arthur from dying in the first place. He couldn't save Lancelot, Elyan, or Gwaine. It was Arthur's own fault for trusting Mordred.
Resigned, he finally turns and heads back into the heart of the forest. He's not sure if he should return to the glade or not; he's not sure he's ready to face Gwaine and Elyan.
They're not who he comes across first, though. Arthur slows his pace as he catches sight of Lancelot and Freya. Freya is leaning back against the trunk of a willow tree with Lancelot's head pillowed in her lap. His eyes are closed and he appears asleep as she cards her fingers through his hair and sings softly. She trails off with the last note.
"Arthur," she acknowledges.
He takes that as an invitation to approach, though he keeps his voice pitched low. "I thought we couldn't get tired here."
"Sleep can be restful," she replies. "I'm sure you feel some weariness after your tumultuous emotions earlier."
Arthur grimaces. "I am ashamed of my behavior."
Freya drops her gaze back down to Lancelot. "He remembered the veil. But seeing you in the water made him fear that it was you who stepped through instead of him."
Arthur frowns and looks at his old friend. "That never should have been his sacrifice. And to learn he suffered so much for it…" That his memory was unjustly tainted after such a sacrifice. "Is there no way for him to get better?"
Freya continues to gently stroke his hair. "He is. When he first came here, the wounds to his soul were still raw, and he would wake screaming all the time. I had to use magic to calm him. But now I don't need to force it on him anymore."
"He's still not himself," Arthur points out.
Freya shoots him a slightly exasperated look. "Imagine what it might be like to have your very essence ripped apart and to be left with pieces that don't fit together anymore, that no longer make sense because they're all out of order. Healing from that takes time, but I assure you, Lancelot has been getting much better with Elyan, and now Gwaine around."
Arthur ducks his head sheepishly. But not him. "I have been selfish."
"You have been grieving. Your friends understand. It's not easy, losing everything you cared about, all your hopes and dreams for a life that's no longer yours to carry out those hopes and dreams."
Arthur lifts his head at the wistful, nostalgic note in her voice, and he remembers a snippet of information from his first day here. "Were you once…?" He doesn't know quite how to say it.
Freya smiles sadly. "Just a girl? Yes. Until I died. Merlin brought me to the Lake of Avalon to lay me to rest, and for some reason fate decided to make me the Lady of the Lake for it."
Arthur shakes his head, stunned at yet another flummoxing revelation. "I never knew Merlin had fallen in love with someone…or that he lost her." And Arthur regrets not knowing. Merlin was always a friend to Arthur; how could he not have been the same to him?
"Merlin bore a lot on his shoulders alone," Freya says. "But I speak with him sometimes, and you should be relieved to hear that Guinevere is well and Camelot is flourishing under her reign."
Arthur nods numbly. He is relieved to hear that. Perhaps it is time to let go. Looking at Lancelot, sleeping peacefully, Arthur vows to stop forgetting that he still has men he's responsible for here, and it's time he take that responsibility seriously.
He scoots back to recline against another tree himself and closes his eyes, acknowledging that he could use some rest. He doesn't sleep, but he does feel some of that peace begin to seep through his soul.
Freya gently lifts Lancelot's head and slips out from beneath it, then lowers him to the soft grass and quietly leaves. Arthur stays.
Sometime later, Lancelot finally wakes, opening his eyes and gazing up at the canopy for a long while before he sits up. He goes still when he sees Arthur and then looks around warily.
"How are you feeling?" Arthur asks.
"All right. How are you?"
"Finally learning to appreciate the tranquility of this place."
Lancelot still looks uncertain around him, which gives Arthur a pang of guilt. His wariness is obviously a learned response and has nothing to do with recovered memories.
"I'm sorry about earlier," Arthur says. "If I frightened you. I…had a bad moment."
Lancelot flicks a hesitant look around again. "I don't want you to die," he says quietly.
"I won't," Arthur quickly replies. He doesn't know what else to say about the being dead already part. He doesn't know what to say to Lancelot at all in this state, but he needs his friend to understand that Arthur bears him no ill will or grudge for a past that turned out to be nothing but lies and treachery by a third party.
"And I want you to know how much I value your courage and selflessness," he says earnestly. "You are still the most noble man I have ever had the honor of knowing. And of calling friend."
Lancelot fidgets under the praise. "I…I can't remember," he says brokenly.
"That's alright," Arthur says, and he moves closer to grasp his friend's hands. "I remember for both of us."
Lancelot looks both distressed and grateful, and Arthur prompts him to stand, and the two walk back to the glade together.
Elyan gives them a concerned look while Gwaine looks unapologetically suspicious. Arthur supposes he can't blame them; he has been acting like a clotpole.
"I'm sorry," he tells them. "I've been having trouble adjusting."
Elyan grins. "It's okay."
Gwaine smirks at him. "Of course the princess is missing his fluffy feather bed."
Arthur rolls his eyes and takes a swing at him, but it's a half-hearted one that Gwaine easily dodges. Elyan laughs. Lancelot watches them silently but curiously.
It's not quite as easy as that. Arthur is bored out of his mind in Avalon. Elyan mentions they could spar with wooden sticks, which Arthur jumps at, but Elyan quietly says they should do it away from the glade. The covert look he flicks Lancelot's way is clear in its meaning, so Arthur agrees, and they find somewhere else on the isle to work off some pent up energy. It helps. It's normal.
Then one day when they're in the middle of sparring, Elyan nearly pokes Arthur's eye out when he spots Lancelot watching them. Elyan is obviously worried about something, and the truth is Arthur hasn't seen Lancelot at his worst but he doesn't want to trigger anything. Lancelot doesn't seem upset though, and continues to just stand a good distance away and watch. When nothing untoward happens after that, they wordlessly agree to spar a little closer to home. Gwaine starts to participate in the exercises, and Lancelot takes to watching them with apparent enjoyment, though he doesn't ask to join in and they don't push by asking him to.
Gwaine's collection of wooden animals grows, and he even teaches Arthur and Elyan how to whittle. They all need some new hobbies. Lancelot tries his hand at a piece under Gwaine's watchful tutelage, and Arthur is astounded at this soft, nurturing side of Gwaine he never imagined lay beneath the surface.
The more time Arthur spends with Lancelot, the more he sees that Freya was right, he is getting better. He still has his lapses, but more and more he's mentally present with them and even starts acting like his old self. The first time he joins in the friendly banter with a snarky remark, all three of them are stunned silent, but Gwaine recovers quickly and delivers a retort before Lancelot has a chance to feel self-conscious.
And when the darker memories push their way to the surface, they are all there to provide an anchor and a way back, to remind him where and who he is.
It's a strange purpose they find themselves revolving around—simply keeping each other's company. There are no battles to fight, no politics to navigate, no responsibilities to see to except those they have toward each other. Freya tells them one day they will be summoned to serve again, but she doesn't know when, and after a while Arthur gives up waiting for it. When the time comes, he'll be ready. And until then, he'll watch over his friends, his brothers, here on the banks of Avalon.