Chapter Twenty-Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

Roughly two and a half weeks had passed since the leaders of Anglesey had been left with the information necessary to defeat Nimueh and her allies. However, according to Merlin, the opportune moment was not upon them yet, so life continued on more or less as normal.

It rained every so often, while frost coated the ground after any clear nights. What harvest there was had to be brought it; even knights helped with that between training sessions. The animal keepers began selecting animals for the slaughter and preserving the meat.

It wouldn't be easy, but with gathering, hunting, and fishing on the side, it looked like nobody would starve this winter.

Then it'll be spring again...and the two-year anniversary of the apocalypse.

Gwaine considered that as he headed for the training field one misty morning. Two years. Somehow I feel like the person I was when it started doesn't exist anymore...like he was erased by the old me.

Then again, Garth's life before the world went to shit had been relatively short compared to Gwaine's. Maybe the people we were born again as were just placeholders for who we were always meant to be. That's bizarre to think about, really.

He made it to the already-bustling training field in time to see Haralda tackle Percival to the ground; they promptly began wrestling on the damp grass, laughing all the while. Shaking his head, he went over to join Arthur, Lancelot, Elyan, and Leon. "What's with them?"

"Don't know, don't want to know," Arthur said brusquely as he gave Excalibur a rather unnecessary polish. "We need to work on formations today. A lot of people still don't get it."

While Elyan and Leon began to discuss that with the king, Lancelot moved closer to Gwaine and said quietly, "On a scale of one to ten?"

Lowering his own voice, Gwaine replied, "Three and a half."

"Hmm. Better than yesterday."

"Yeah. Pretty good considering I don't think I'll ever get above a five again."

"We'll see. Plenty of life left to live, right?" Lancelot gave him an encouraging smile and went to collect his training sword.

Ever since that darkest night, this sort of exchange had become a once or twice a day routine. The plan was that if Gwaine ever answered with "one", Lancelot would refuse to leave him alone until he improved. So far, this hadn't happened, although it had been close a couple times. Guess that's just the way it's going to be.

As expected, Lancelot had kept the whole business to himself, just as Gwaine wanted. No need to worry anyone else. Pretty sure Merlin got the gist...he was definitely listening to me and Caldwell...but he's been busy plotting how to kill Nimueh. Plenty on his mind already.

Hayden probably suspected something, too; he'd been given Gwaine way too many searching looks lately. Distracting him was fairly easy, though. Just ask him about Amber. It seemed like progress was being made there, and it was a general assumption that within a few years, he would have another herd of wyverns under his command. Well, they can be pretty useful. Even after Nimueh and her cronies were defeated, who was to say that Anglesey wouldn't have other enemies in the future?

That's the whole thing about post-apocalyptic life, right? Nothing is certain.

Except, evidently, the fact that Ruby was going to learn Gwaine's signature maneuver if it killed her. Today's one-on-one session after group formation training proved that, not for the first time.

"Damn it!" she snapped after another attempt which ended in her dropping her own sword. Gwaine hadn't even been trying to block her. "Why can't I just do it?"

Laughing a little, Gwaine picked up her sword and handed it back. "It took me a while, too. And I started learning how to handle a sword when I was a small child...you're, what, seventeen?"

"Almost eighteen," she said, grabbing her sword with one hand as she brushed wild strands of hair out of her face.

"And you didn't pick up a sword until a few months ago. The learning curve's bound to be different." He sheathed his own weapon. "Why don't we take a quick break?"

A minute later, they were sat on the old bleachers at the edge of the field, sipping water as they watched Arthur spar with three Anglesey recruits at once. "My father used to do that," Gwaine mentioned. "Except it was generally against five people, not just three. I think his record for a successful one-against-many fight was seven. On the training field, at least."

"Huh." Ruby eyed him. "Did you learn to fight from him?"

"Sure did. He was the best swordsman Bernicia ever knew, taught me and my cousin Aldwyn from the time we were boys. I got to pass on that knowledge to Everard's children, and my own. Well, Holly, at least. Caldwell had magic; he didn't need a sword."

"Which cousin was Aldwyn?"

Gwaine sighed. "The oldest. Died too soon in his last life, and too soon in this one. He was meant to be king of Bernicia…Everard had to step into his place afterward."

He paused, lost in memories that didn't physically hurt, for once. The melancholy he felt was manageable. "He was my best friend, Aldwyn was. When we were kids, both times we were kids, actually…We drifted apart the first time around...mostly because I ran away from home for a decade, long story...but he was one of the best crossbow marksmen I knew, could hold his ale like few could, could be pigheaded but had a sense of humor…He and I took a joyride on a couple motorcycles when we were still way too young to be doing it...it was great, though."

Lapsing into silence again, he realized that he was almost smiling. Of course I miss him, but we had some good times, didn't we? Lots of them. "Everard's oldest was named after him. Now, he was a brilliant swordsman. When Holly finally got tall enough...damn, she was a tiny child...they would spar all the time. Bored during a feast? Why not spar in a hallway? Tired of lessons? The top of a tower has enough room, right? Middle of the night and neither one could sleep? Let's go fight in the courtyard and scare the devil out of everyone in their beds! One of the few times I heard Everard shout as much and as loud as his father used to."

Grinning, Ruby said, "Sounds like a lovely time."

"Oh, don't even get me started on the time Elen's kids brought a baby wyvern to the castle and Everard's daughter Alura let it loose...while Ev was hosting a diplomatic summit...Only the fact that she was about five and incredibly adorable at the time got her out of serious trouble…"

Out on the field, Percival and Haralda both tossed their weapons and started wrestling again, only this time it was the hulking knight who tackled the princess. Ruby snorted and asked, "What's their deal? I've heard some things, seems like a lot of drama…"

"Less than you'd expect, actually. After Bernicia and Camelot became allies, Percival got married and had a son. Then his wife died...Few years later, Haralda went to visit Camelot, got close with dear old Percy, and never left. It was a bit of a scandal back then...They never got married, see. But Haralda was always striving to be the opposite of what a princess was expected to be and Percival was born a commoner, so he wasn't so big on tradition. Kind of nice that they found each other sooner this time, actually."

"The PDA's a bit much, though. If you can even call it that."

"Oh, it's a public display of affection, all right. And yes, it's getting to be a bit much. Let's get back to practicing, yeah?"

It took him a while to realize that he'd had an entire conversation about his old life, including his children, without feeling like he was about to drown in sorrow. So when Lancelot asked him after training, "Scale of one to ten?" he responded with, "Four." He got another smile and a clap on the shoulder in response.

Four's still less than five, but I'll take it. Today was a good day.

The next day was not as good, but more due to a day-long deluge than anything else. The most interesting thing to happen was a council meeting, during which Arthur convinced everyone that autumnal community hunt and feast would do wonders for moral. Apparently his argument had been, "Look, we've survived almost two years of an apocalypse, and we should be set to survive this winter. Can we not take a day or two to celebrate? Oh, potential invasion while we happen to be relaxing for once? It's fine; we have a warlock to keep an eye out for us."

A couple days later, the weather cleared up enough and the festivities commenced. Over the past several months...mostly due to the threat of enemies...almost anyone surviving on the entire island of Anglesey had relocated Llanfair PG or what was left of the neighboring village of Menai Bridge. That made it easier to include as many Anglesey residents as were interested, which was a lot.

Much of the island had turned wild in the past year, giving the multiple hunting parties plenty of landscape to roam through and just enough deer, rabbit, and boar to hunt. Gwaine joined one of these parties to help guide those who weren't experienced hunters, but didn't get too involved in the following feasting.

It was nice, however, to see the selected field just outside the main village full of loud, happy people milling around several massive bonfires, eating and drinking and singing like there was not a care in the world. Just before sunset, Aithusa took a short break from scouting and stopped by to light aforementioned bonfires in a grand spectacle; Merlin didn't stay long either but did spell some of the flames into vibrant blues, greens, and purples, much to everyone's delight. Arthur seemed happiest of all, as if he were again presiding over a Golden Age banquet in his own castle.

Hanging back in the shadows, Gwaine mostly watched his family. The twins and Hertha were acting the ages of their bodies for once, Haralda and Percival looked deliriously happy, Elen was still "taking it easy" but seemed happy to enjoy the festivities with Hayden by her side.

Everyone seems happy. As happy as possible given the tenuous world we're in.

When Lancelot took a moment to check in, Gwaine said, "Four and a half," before the other knight even asked.

He left early nonetheless, his way home lit by a bright moon. Arthur and Gwen's house was on the way, and he noticed light in as he went past. Very blue, obviously-magic light. Huh.

Inside, he found Merlin bent over about a hundred maps and manuscripts scattered across the dining room table. A glowing ball of light hovered above him. "Hello, Gwaine. Tired of partying already?"

"I had some fabulous roasted boar, but I wasn't much in the mood for drink and socializing."

"How times have changed." Merlin looked up with a brief grin. His expression sobered as he looked back down.

Gwaine leaned on the table across from the warlock. "You know, if these days I drank like I used to... before Camelot, I mean...I would be considered an alcoholic."

"You were an alcoholic. We just didn't have a word for it yet." Snapping his figures, Merlin summoned another light-ball; it joined the other above his head, further brightening the room. "Not surprising, though, given the things you'd gone through. You did rein it in eventually."

"Yeah, 'cause I suddenly had magic and was afraid of blowing someone up by accident."

"Heh. I take it you didn't get into drinking in this life?"

"Not much. Experimented in my teens a bit, realized what a slippery slope it was for me...After losing my parents, I couldn't really risk it. Elen and I even talked about the stuff we had to avoid. The kids needed us."

"I see. You did a good job with them, you know." Merlin sighed and straightened, flexing his back. "Ugh. What a time to be alive."

"Haven't you been alive for the past fifteen-hundred years or so? Quite a few wild times to live through…"

Merlin laughed. "Don't remind me." Then, "I don't think you were there when I told the others...Nimueh got her hands on the Cup of Life again. I'd sealed it under Camelot like Sigan's tomb...she got to it, too, plus some other magical artifacts I really should've check on sooner…Anyway, Sshe's using the Cup to keep herself...and only herself...immortal. Her powers aren't quite what they used to be, I guess, and she wanted assurance, no matter the cost. Kept the whole thing secret from most of her cronies...can't imagine Morgause would've been too pleased…"

"Yeah, think I might've heard something from Lancelot…" He racked his brains. "Sorry, mate, I've been pretty out of it lately."

"Hmm." Merlin looked at him with those piercing blue eyes. "Gwaine, if you're struggling, you know I…"

"You've got enough to worry about," Gwaine interrupted. "I'm managing. I know when to ask for help."

The warlock stared at him for a few moments longer. "If you say so. But I'll sic Aithusa on you if you try anything too stupid. Like running after a High Priestess with no backup again."

"Okay. Good to know. I will refrain from stupidity insofar that is possible." He hesitated. "Merlin...when do you think we'll be able to end this war?" Even today, while we celebrate our gains so far, it's still hanging over our heads...

"Hopefully soon. Probably in the middle of winter, knowing our luck." Merlin huffed, sounding very much like an old man as he grumbled, "I hate battles in winter, so damn cold…"

The first light snow came to Anglesey a week later, along with the first attack.