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Twilight had fallen over the Wall, the untrustworthy time of day which was both night and day at once, that was tricky and often bothersome. At least, that was how it seemed to Gawain, standing above the gate and watching the deep blue evening warily. But in a strange way, it was a comforting bother. It was highly difficult to get used to, this new notion of peace. A welcome difficulty, of course, yet Gawain hoped he was at least still kept on his toes. And he knew the twilight would always grant him that, especially on this night. Something strange was on the air, something that felt old, earthy, and entirely unsettling.

No one else seemed particularly bothered, however. Arthur was back and forth between long talks with Merlin and time spent with his soon-to-be bride. Bors and even Galahad were making merry with their drinks and their songs, along with all the other Britains who'd either lived there as long as the post existed, or had come to see the famed man whom Merlin the Druid was proclaiming as their king. Only Gawain wasn't in a celebratory mood, though he was happy enough for sure. All seemed well, and that was something to be happy about. He was just restless; he told himself, and still keenly feeling the loss of his friends. A part of him knew that Lancelot would have understood, he'd been sensitive to things in much the same manner. But Gawain was robbed of his friend...

And so he'd retreated to watch on the Wall, though there wasn't much to watch out for. The Woads were allies (causing only slight discomfort and awkwardness below, as the peoples mixed in Arthur's plan for unity) and the Saxons had been dealt a heavy blow, it was unlikely they would attack again until after a few years, if ever. But Gawain knew something was out there, out there in that shifting, all too beautiful twilight, and it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him, refusing to believe that the land was at peace. A strange itch that kept touching his spine, or an odd sound in his ear that could either be heard as the wind or some thin, feminine voice's whisper...

Sure enough, he had not been standing long watching the evening, when he could pick out a figure, running over grass and to the wall. Even in the twilight, it was obvious to see it was a Woad, a young boy. Gawain made no move for a weapon, simply leaned forward and called down to the boy when he'd reached the gate, catching his breath.

"You've come here alone, boy?"

"I've come as a herald," The boy called back up, still short of breath, obviously reciting what he'd been told to say, as his Druidic accent was halting and unsure, and the wording far too precise for a child's nature. "To tell Merlin that the future King's sister will be here within the hour."

Gawain had no idea how to respond to such an announcement, and stood staring for a moment. He thought he knew everything about Arthur, who'd never once mentioned family beyond his father and his mother. At that moment, the sound was on the air again, this time most distinctly a voice, faint and whispering on the wind that blew up from the grass and the trees, a woman's voice speaking in a language he'd never heard. Wordlessly, Gawain turned, and motioned for the two men who stood by the gate to open it...

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Arthur stood in the square, which was lit by the flickering torches and graced with music flowing from the tavern, Gawain and Guenevere at his side. Gawain hadn't felt the need to spoil Bors and Galahad's fun, over something as simple as meeting guests, and besides, they were finding they did indeed share something other then land with the Woads, and that was love of music and a good drink.

He noted that his commander looked rather troubled, and understandably so. Arthur had insisted to Merlin that he'd not had a sister, but the Druid would only say that he must meet this woman, The Lady of Avalon. Then Merlin was silent, seated within and sending Arthur to meet The Lady without him. Guenevere now noted his uneasy manner, and took his hand, as if to lend him calm, even as she herself were nervous. She knew the Lady of Avalon, had seen her once or twice, and had of course heard the rumors among the tribes, that the famed Arthur was kin to the Lady of The Lake. She'd not taken it seriously, though she had always wondered...but she kept silent. It was best not to assume anything about the magic that lurked in the north; Guenevere would just have to see the events unfold for herself. Gawain, for his part, would have been the picture of calm, were it not for that strange tingle on his spine, returning just as the gates opened for a very old, very simple cart, painted with unknown symbols, in strange patterns, and driven by a female Woad.

"You're sure you could not have a sister?" Gawain asked Arthur softly, as the cart came near, knowing his friend was uneasy. Arthur shook his head.

"I don't know anymore, though it seems quite impossible." He breathed, looking as composed as ever as he all but clung to Guenevere's hand. "My mother wed my father at a very young age, and my father hardly seemed the sort of man to take or even have time for a mistress...he certainly never had a former wife." He sighed, "But anything is possible, how can I know anything for sure?"

He was silent then, for the cart had stopped, and one of the heavily tattooed and painted guards, who looked to have been running alongside the cart on it's journey, hurried to open the door, dropping to his knee as he did so. Guenevere immediately followed suit, her dress pooling out on the smooth stones, and motioned for Arthur and Gawain to do the same. Not wanting to pay disrespect to any Druidic or Woad customs, they did as she said.

There were three women within the cart, the first descending with a hand from her guard, and Arthur saw, out of the corner of his eye, Guenevere's bright smile at seeing her. The woman looked fairly young, perhaps only a little younger then he, with long black hair tied in many thick braids, and blue eyes that seemed familiar to him. She was not beautiful, yet she had a kind, warm look to her, dressed in a shapeless, brightly dyed cloak over a simple fitted, earth-colored dress.

The second to descend was a much younger woman; this one very pretty to look at with bright brown eyes and braided hair that rare color of Vanora's, Gawain found himself noting, as that voice he could not understand whirled by his ear for a moment. She was dressed much the same as the first, and both women had tattoos upon their brows in blue woad, of the crescent moon. They stood on either side of the cart, watching as the last woman stepped down to the square, and when Arthur saw her, he felt an immediate presence of great power.

The Lady of The Lake looked straight at him, with eyes so brightly blue, so like his own, that he was startled. Both Gawain and Guenevere also saw the striking resemblance, the latter wondering why she'd not noticed it before. The same dark hair, the same eyes, the same lips, only where Arthur had his father's tall, strong build, The Lady of Avalon was slim and rather short of stature, though her presence certainly made up for the fact. She could well have been as tall as the high walls....

"Arthur," She spoke after a moment of look at him, smiling, motioning with both hands for all to rise, "I am so glad to finally see you again."

"My Lady," Arthur stepped forward, almost tentatively, it did not seem that such a being should be so tangible. "It is an honor to have you here, I know that you are figure of great importance on this island..."

"And yet you still don't know what to make of me." The Lady said, smiling softly, "Call me Morgaine. Avalon would not miss your crowning as Britain's king, nor your wedding to Guenevere." At this, Morgaine smiled to the girl, "And there is much to discuss, Arthur, both of Avalon..." She added in a softer tone, suddenly seeming less otherworldly, "And between you and I, as I'm sure Merlin has not told you a thing."

"I am discovering that to be his way," Arthur released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, then remembered himself, and his manners, and stepped back, holding Guenevere's hand, "Lady Morgaine, this is Guenevere, who will soon be my bride."

"Yes, we have met." Morgaine smiled, and Guenevere dipped her head.

"I did not think The Lady would remember me," She murmured, and Arthur realized again just how important this woman was, to have his strong-willed Guenevere so reverent.

"I remember all children who ignited the sight in my as strongly as you." Morgaine replied, an undercurrent of power flowing over her words. "I saw great things in your future."

All the while, Gawain had been watching the exchange, still fascinated by the family resemblance, and the first person to make him as uncomfortable as Merlin did, yet now he felt his eyes drawn to where Morgaine's attendants stood. The younger one caught his eye for a moment, and smiled, and he almost didn't realize that Arthur was speaking his name.

"And now Lady Morgaine," He was saying, and Gawain's eyes snapped back to The Lady, who smiled almost knowingly, "I give you one of my loyal knights and most trusted friends, Gawain."

"It is an honor, Lady." Gawain dipped his head, and Morgaine smiled fully.

"For I as well," She replied seriously, "I have heard wonderful things of you and your friends, Sir Gawain." She turned, motioning for her attendants to step forward. "I have brought my two chief priestesses with me, Eiluned," The dark-haired woman bowed, "And Branwen." The younger followed suit, and when her eyes rose they met Gawain's again, for only a moment.

"You are all most welcome." Arthur spoke, Guenevere taking his arm, "And must be tired from your journey. Come inside and refresh, and take dinner with us, Merlin will want to speak with you as well, I'm sure."

"I would love to, we have been on the road for far to long." Morgaine agreed heartily, and Arthur turned, Guenevere at his left side, his esteemed guest to his right, to lead them into what were now his very own halls. The priestesses moved to follow Morgaine, Branwen lingering only a step behind Eiluned, glanced at Gawain once more, then hurried after her Lady. Gawain hesitated outside for only a moment, debating between joining Bors and Galahad, or standing by Arthur...it was a choice quickly made. He followed the priestess inside, while the twilight faded behind him, melting into the dark of starlight...

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Author's Notes: Well, I seem to have a plot in my head, hehe. This chapter kept giving me issues, ah well. I am very much enjoying writing this, yes indeed.

To my lone reviewer, I say thank you XD You like hummus. You are cool.