Unfortunately for the knights, it was a long ride from Camelot to the Isle of the Blessed, and they needed to stop to make camp. Gwaine dismounted, wondering if Krysia was asleep yet, or if she'd decided to have one of her famously late nights without him to coax her to bed.

"Elyan, look after the horses," Arthur said, "they need watering. I need someone to volunteer to get wood."

"I'll do that," Merlin said, going into the forest.

Lancelot hesitated, watching Merlin leave, and then he followed him.

"Where's he gone?" Gwaine said, adjusting his armor where it had been pinching on the ride.

"We'll need a lot of wood," Leon said. "I expect he's gone to help Merlin."

Percival looked at their retreating figures for a long moment before he said, "He's worried about Merlin."

"What's there to worry about?" Gwaine said, grinning. "Merlin's fine."

Percival raised his eyebrows at Gwaine and said, "He's been keeping an eye on Merlin since Samhain, much as you've been worrying over Kryisa."

"You're saying Lancelot's in love with Merlin?" Gwaine said, laughing.

"I'm saying he cares about him," Percival whispered, "and Merlin's not been himself."

"None of us have," Leon said softly. "Percival, help me with setting up a good spot for a fire?"

Gwaine stood, watching them work, and felt a shiver down his spine, wondering why Krysia had become increasingly agitated, even though they had a plan, and they were going to save Camelot. She'd never been one to worry every time he left on patrol, so something about these Dorocha had her spooked like even a dragon hadn't done. For the first time, Gwaine wondered what the plan was, exactly, and why neither Arthur nor Merlin nor Krysia had mentioned the details.

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Krysia watched Drea turn down the bed, and she walked around it to examine the precision of the work. Drea certainly had a knack for precision, which would serve her well under Krysia, although she had proven to do better with larger matters than fine-motor skills.

"Shall I stoke the fire, my lady?" Drea whispered.

"Please," Krysia said, watching Drea work.

This was something that relaxed Drea, Krysia supposed because it was something the girl already knew how to do well before coming to Camelot. The girl then stood, wiped off her hands on her apron, and said, "Would you like some help with your necklace, my lady?"

Krysia smiled and touched the pendant Arthur had given her for her birthday, one that actually had an echo of the Pendragon crest, which she had been wearing since he left as a way to poke back at Agravaine with dignity. The metal was a cool, but heavy familiarity under her hand, and she found it comforting.

"I appreciate the offer," Krysia said softly, "but let's leave something for Enid to do, shall we?"

Drea hesitated, then said softly, "My lady, may I ask you question?"

"Of course."

"It isn't that I'm ungrateful for your generosity," she said, "but I'm…I'm not sure I'm best suited for…for the job you've hired me for."

Krysia smiled, seeing so much of herself at that age in this young girl.

"You're upset because I made the bed again after you made it this morning, aren't you?" Krysia said. "It's alright, ask Enid. I make it over for everyone. There isn't a servant in the castle who's able to meet my standard on that matter. You're very good, Drea. You have all the skills I am looking for."

"But Enid—"

"Enid is a lady's maid," Krysia said, trying not to laugh. "She's a very good one, but that is not my plan for you, Drea. Do you know how long it takes Enid to light a fire?"

Drea shook her head, and Krysia motioned for the girl to sit, which she did, hesitating.

"When I was a little bit younger than you," Krysia said, carefully removing her headdress, "I transitioned from being a companion to the Lady Morgana to working as a maid in Lady Evaine's household."

Drea made a sound of surprise, and Krysia's smile broadened.

"It's true. I've not been as you see me for very long. A couple of years. I worked very hard for Lady Evaine, and within about five years, I was the head of King Uther's servants. That is the role I have planned for you."

"Serving the king?" Drea said, startled.

"If you choose," Krysia said, unpicking her plaits, "although I would prefer you stay with me. I'm a great deal more particular than the Pendragons. Enid has many skills, and at one time I thought she might be a good head servant, but she doesn't have the drive for it. She's contented to do her role extremely well and doesn't have the curiosity to learn how to keep the whole matter functioning. But you, Drea, you have all the skills I require. You're not afraid to get your hands dirty, you learn quickly, and you have a great deal of confidence."

"I do?" Drea said.

"Not many would have had the strength, in your shoes, to come to speak before the king," Krysia said gently. "Now, you've had a long day, and I have a bit of time before tomorrow's council meeting. Why don't we get an early night and start early tomorrow? Let's see if you can't be the first to learn how to make a bed to my standards."

Drea brightened, bowed her head, and thanked Krysia before hurrying out of the room. Krysia smiled to herself until she thought of Gwaine, and then her smile slowly melted while she watched herself in the mirror. She hoped they would be home soon, and she hoped that Gwaine didn't do anything stupid.

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Gwaine frowned as they road through a field the following day littered with corpses. They couldn't have fallen this way, so thick, so the villages must have brought their dead here, perhaps before heading to Camelot as refugees. Gwaine wondered how Krysia was getting on with supporting those refugees, and then Arthur's voice stirred him out of his reverie.

"We need to reach Daelbeth by nightfall," Arthur said.

They all understood the message: they needed to push harder to be safe for the night. The all urged the horses, picking up the pace.

/-/

Krysia sat with Uther for a while in the evening, mostly to avoid the emptiness of her own quarters without Gwaine visiting her or her visiting him. Uther said nothing, staring at the window almost without seeing her, not acknowledging her presence.

"They've let the fire get awfully low," she whispered, more to herself than to Uther.

She knew Gwen was taking a rest after almost not leaving his side since Arthur had ridden out, so instead of calling for someone, she stoked the fire herself. Uther's head turned as she worked, staring at her almost as he had so often done while she was his servant. She stood when the fire was growing again, and as she brushed off her skirts, he held a hand out to her.

Krysia stared at his hand, not sure what he meant by it, but she approached and took it in both of hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

His eyes had gone so big, almost like a child.

"It's alright," Krysia whispered, gently squeezing his hand. "It's really alright."

"Please," he whispered, his hand beginning to tremble. "Can you…?"

He tried to start the question several times, and it took him trailing off after several attempts for Krysia to realize what he was trying to say, although she couldn't be sure precisely what he was thinking of as he said it.

"Of course," she said, raising his hand to her lips. "I forgive you, Uther."

He relaxed into his chair, closing his eyes very tight. Krysia waited until she was fairly sure he was asleep before she slipped her hands out of his and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She was standing to leave when his hand shot out and grabbed her arm with surprising strength.

"Don't leave me," he whispered.

She hesitated, feeling the desperation in his voice, like she hadn't heard since he'd been under the influence of the mandrakes. Krysia sat again, caressing his hand gently with her fingers.

"I'll stay until sunrise," she promised. "Just rest, sire."

Again, he relaxed into his chair and closed his eyes, this time peacefully. He looked like a child, she realized, like a child plagued with nightmares, only his nightmares were memories, a long life of memories that haunted him, all come to roost now that he'd had his heart broken by his daughter. Krysia had no idea how to ease his pain, or even if she should. There was a reason things hurt, and it was to keep one from making the same mistakes over and over. But at this late stage, what mistakes were left for him to make?

/-/

They did make it to the ruins of Daelberth fortress, although it was already dusk when they arrived. Leon unhorsed and considered the layout strategically, based on what they knew about the movement of the creatures.

"Pair off," Arthur said. "Find any wood you can. Get the fires burning."

Leon and Elyan gathered as much as they could carry, each with a torch in hand. As their arms filled, they gathered the wood in a central location to stoke the fires, then went out for more. It was gone well, when there was a scream that sounded like a man in agony, and Leon saw Gwaine drop a whole armful of firewood.

And Gwaine, Leon had learned, did not startle easily.

They gathered closer together as the screams surrounded them in the night, back-to-back in a circle. A Dorocha, the one that had startled Gwaine, hurtled toward them, and Arthur managed to ward it off with his torch.

"Let's go!" Arthur called.

"We haven't got enough," Percival said.

"Go!"

They did as ordered, and Merlin used his flint to start a fire. They stood around it with torches, and Percival again voiced what Leon was thinking.

"It won't get us through the night."

Arthur nodded, and said, "It'll keep the area safe for a while."

They rested, each holding their own torch, occasionally creating new ones off the main fire. Leon kept his back against the ruined stone wall, and he watched each knight show his hesitance to sleep in their own way: Percival kept his eyes on the darkness, Elyan pretended to sleep but kept shifting, Gwaine kept the fire stocked, and Lancelot paced near the flames.

Finally, Gwaine put a log onto the fire and said, "The last one. Maybe we should draw lots, see who gets some more."

"I'll go," Arthur said, standing.

"You'll need help," Lancelot said, echoing Arthur's earlier statement about pairing off.

"I'll go with him," Merlin said.

Arthur gave Merlin a disbelieving look and said, "You sure you're the right person?"

"Well, since when have you known how to collect firewood?"

They all laughed, including the still-pretending Elyan.

Arthur and Merlin left into the darkness, and they continued their anxious dance at the firepit, except now Gwaine was humming tunelessly with nothing else to keep him occupied. Leon silently hoped that Gwaine didn't ever sing to Krysia, because he was sure, based on this humming, that all it would serve was to make her ears bleed.

That was, if they made it home for the wedding, Leon thought bitterly, wishing he'd convinced Gwaine to stay back.

"It's getting colder," Elyan said softly, sitting up, realizing that the fire was getting uncomfortably low.

Leon hummed, but no one else spoke for a long moment. Finally, Lancelot broke the silence.

"They should have been back by now," he said.

"Someone needs to go and look for them," Elyan said.

"We've only got one torch between us," Percival said, nodding to the only torch that hadn't gone out.

They stared at the torch in silence, and Leon was about to volunteer to keep from Gwaine getting himself killed before his wedding, but Lancelot, ever the headstrong, headfirst Lancelot, snatched up the torch and started walking in the direction Arthur and Merlin had gone in.

"Who's coming?" he said, not pausing.

Elyan jumped up and started to follow, and then the other three looked at each other, joining in. Gwaine grabbed his belt and sword, putting them on as he walked.

The night was unseasonably cold, and Leon wondered where Arthur and Merlin could possibly be. There were only so many places to find wood nearby, and even fewer where the light from a torch couldn't be seen. They were just coming around when they heard Arthur's voice crying out, then the screeching of a Dorocha. They hurried toward the sound, Lancelot first with the torch, and he warded it off with the torch, then passed it back to Percival and hurried toward Merlin, with Arthur, who was against the wall.

"What happened?" Lancelot said as they knelt.

They turned Merlin over, and his face was frosting. Leon stared, his chest sinking, sure that Merlin must be dead, or at best, dying.

"We have to get him to Gaius," Arthur said.

"And abandon the quest?" Leon said, surprised.

"He saved my life," Arthur said, "I won't let him die."

Leon could understand that, nor did he want to see Merlin die, but he couldn't stop thinking of Krysia and the refugees back in Camelot, or the corpses they'd passed on the way.

"Sire," he said, "if we don't get to the Isle of the blessed, hundreds more will perish."

Arthur hesitated, obviously seeing the logic in Leon's appeal, but not wanting to abandon Merlin regardless.

And then, the headstrong, headlong Lancelot struck again.

"Let me take him," he said.

All the knights were silent at what Lancelot was suggesting.

"Carrying a wounded man, alone?" Arthur said. "It will take you two or three days to reach Camelot."

"Not if I go through the Valley of the Fallen Kings," Lancelot said. "You cannot give up on the quest."

Arthur hesitated again, and Leon knew that the danger of the path Lancelot was suggesting did not ease the prince's mind, but it was the only way.

"Sire," Leon said, "he's right."

Arthur knew it, and he nodded, helping Lancelot pull Merlin off the ground.

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Gwaine helped Lancelot raise Merlin onto Lancelot's horse, and he steadied Merlin as Lancelot mounted.

"You're going to be fine," Gwaine said, forcing a smile as he squeezed his friend's cold hand. "Tell Krysia I'm still alive, will you?"

Merlin said nothing until Arthur said to him, "This is my fault, I'm sorry.

It seemed to cause Merlin a great deal of pain, but he said, "Take me with you, please."

"You'll die, Merlin," Arthur said.

"You don't understand," Merlin said. "Please, Arthur."

"Do you ever do as you're told?"

"I have to go with you."

"Merlin—"

Lancelot cut in and said, "We need to leave—"

"Go," Arthur said, stepping back, pulling Gwaine back with him, and they watched the two ride off toward the Valley of the Kings.

"He'll be alright," Gwaine said, forcing his smile again. "Nobody's as stubborn as Merlin."

"Krysia is," Arthur said, forcing a smile of his own, although he looked pained. "As long as they make it back, she'll make sure he doesn't die."

"That's the spirit," Gwaine said, and they mounted their horses going back to the forest with the others.

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The knights rode through the woods at a slower pace than they would like, between exhaustion and the morale drop of losing Lancelot and Merlin. The buzzing of bees filled the air, and Gwaine grinned, pausing his horse.

"Can you hear that?" he said.

"Bees?" Leon said.

"Food," Gwaine said, dismounting.

"You trying to get us killed?"

"We're riding to our deaths anyway," Gwaine said.

Leon paused, feeling the hairs on his arms rise. Gwaine had stayed positive the whole ride, had insisted that he was going to make it back, because he'd promised Krysia. If he had reached the stage where he could casually mention their certain death, the sleepless nights were weighing heavily on him indeed.

Leon dismounted, as did the others.

"It's good to give the horses a rest," Leon said. He turned to Arthur, then, who hadn't spoken since Lancelot and Merlin had ridden off. "You're quiet," he said.

Arthur said, "That's what happens after three days of listening to Gwaine."

Leon forced a smile and said, "You did the right thing, you know. Merlin couldn't continue with us."

Arthur shook his head and said, "I should have saved him."

The bees began to buzz louder, and more vigorously, and they began attacking Gwaine, who tried to escape them, shrieking, as he was repeatedly stung. They looked over with mild interest, and Leon cataloged every moment of it. If they did make it back, he wanted to be sure to tell Krysia precisely what happened so she could adequately chastise him.

"If anyone can get Merlin back to Camelot," Leon said, "Lancelot can. He's a good fighter, he's a good rider, and he doesn't believe in defeat."

Arthur nodded, but Leon knew that the prince's tendency to take the world on his shoulders was weighing especially heavy of late, and this blow was a hard one, but harder for how many he'd already endured.

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Gwaine frowned down at the tunnels of Andor as they pulled the horses to a stop at the entrance. The stinging of his wounds from the bees made him admittedly pricklier, but Gwaine had thought Arthur was joking when he suggested using the tunnels.

"By dawn, we'll be on the other side of the mountain," Arthur said.

"You can't be serious," Gwaine said. "The tunnels are crawling with wilddeoren."

"The tunnels will take days off our journey."

"If we make it out alive," Gwaine said.

"We'll cover ourselves in gaia berries," Arthur said, gathering a few of the pungent berries, growing nearby.

"Oh," Gwaine said, sarcastically, "sounds great."

"It's your choice, Gwaine," Arthur said. "Wilddeoren or Dorocha?"

"I know which I'd rather go for," Elyan said.

"Me too," Leon said.

There was a distant screech and Gwaine paused, feeling a squeezing sensation in his chest. There was a ghostly scream, and a Dorocha came out of the woods at Gwaine. Percival launched himself at Gwaine, throwing him out of the way as Arthur waved his torch.

"Never knew you cared!" Gwaine said as Percival pulled him to his feet again.

"Quick!" Arthur said.

They grabbed as many bushes of gaia berries as they could, hurrying into the cave, running away from the screams of the Dorocha.

They hurried to cover themselves in the berries and began through the caves. It was horrible, but Gwaine had to admit, at least they were alive. They made it a decent way in before Percival, who wasn't from nearby, questioned the berries.

"Remind me again why we're wearing this disgusting paste?" he said.

"Wilddeoren are completely blind," Arthur said. "They rely totally on their sense of smell. Gaia berries will mask our scent."

"What are the chances of us getting through here without seeing a wilddeoren?" Gwaine said hopefully.

"None," Arthur said.

They continued on, crunching bones of consumed animals underfoot, and Gwaine tripped over the skull of a surprisingly large creature. An animal grunted in the shadows, and Arthur hissed.

They hid behind a rock as they listened to the squeals and snorts of the massive rodent.

"Keep still," Arthur whispered. "Don't even breathe."

The wilddeoren snuffled and snorted, and it seemed to leave, and Gwaine grinned, relieved, but then it began shuffling again, approaching him. He held his breath, unable to move as it began to crawl on him. The other knights looked at him with pity and disgust as its face got close to his. He turned his head slowly, carefully shifting his sword and driving it through the beast, which roared as it died. He laughed, pleased that he'd pulled it off, but Arthur wasn't nearly as pleased.

"You fool!" Arthur said.

"It's dead," Gwaine said, not understanding the problem.

"That one is, yes," Arthur said. "They hunt in packs."

Grunting and squealing could be heard in the distance, getting closer, and Elyan cried, "Run!"

Not that any of them needed encouragement. They hurried down the tunnels as quickly as they could, chased by the rodents. Gwaine couldn't believe this was how it would all end, eaten by giant rodents, covered in stinking berries and bee stings. What a way to miss a wedding.

A/N:

To the Guest: I'm doing the best I can to lace in as much Lancelot as possible, but unfortunately it's tricky. I want to be as faithful as possible to canon material where I can, and in the few sections where Lancelot exists with the other knights (because they kill him off so quickly), he spends a lot more time with Merlin. I'll try to find other ways to emphasize the bond, in dialogue, reminiscing, etc. I've even got a plan for honoring him at the wedding. (And yes, that means I am killing him off. Everyone who dies in the show dies in the fan fic, although they don't all necessarily stay dead.)

So, as y'all might have noticed, I'm taking more time on this two-part than I initially anticipated. I'm still thinking maybe 5-ish chapters on it, but it might go up to six. I want to give the knights plenty of time, and Krysia is growing into her own as a Lady of the court as well, with Uther basically incapacitated and Morgana absent. When Arthur isn't there, it's between her and Agravaine to "run" the court until Arthur's wedding. One thing Agravaine is right about, she's still finding her feet in this role, but she's a fast learner.

-C