It took every ounce of self-control that Arthur had, not to start off for Lyonesse immediately. He wanted so desperately to see Gwen, to feel her in his arms, to know for himself that she was one thing that hadn't been taken from him. And he needed action: anything to stop his mind from replaying each heartbreaking detail. Anything to remove himself from the ruins of Camelot.

He couldn't get the image of his lost daughter out of his head. His heart ached for the child he was now never going to get to hold.

He needed Guinevere.

But wisdom had had to prevail. It was already crawling towards late afternoon. Gaius needed to pack provisions for him and he also needed to draw a map, to show the safe paths to reach Lyonesse, avoiding areas where armies might be expected to be encountered.

Arthur could tell, even after everything Gaius had already told him, that the man was keeping something back. But though he pressed once or twice, Gaius always avoided giving an answer, saying simply that there were some things it was best that Gwen tell him herself. Arthur might have pushed harder. But he wasn't sure how much more he himself could take, and he could see the strain in Gaius's eyes. And so he let it lie. Whatever it was: Gwen could tell him, and the two would deal with it together.

Arthur stayed the night and the next morning Gaius handed him a bag of food and the map and took him round back. There was a small fence and shed which enclosed an old and rather the worse for wear horse.

"Take her," said Gaius. "She'll get you there faster."

"You'll need her yourself."

"No. No," said Gaius, patting the horse fondly. "I don't think I will."

Arthur looked round at the hut, at Gaius, and back toward the ruined city. "I can't leave you here Gaius. Come with me."

Gaius smiled fondly at Arthur but shook his head. "No. I'm afraid not. I was an old man when you left Arthur, and now I am a very old man. I have spent my years with Camelot…I think I would like to end them here as well. I can offer no more help anymore to anyone. But even though times seem blacker then they ever have before…I think I am beginning to share a little of Merlin's faith. You might yet bring peace Arthur. And it has made me very happy to be able to see you once more. Now go." He reached out and hugged Arthur.

The journey took over two weeks. Following Gaius's map, Arthur found himself often going miles out of his way. But Gaius had impressed on him the danger of the areas he was avoiding. It wasn't only war, bandits, and people desperate enough to do anything that had made many areas so treacherous. With so many wizards and sorcerers using such violent magic, headless of the consequences, many places had become overrun: magic creatures created but never vanquished, or spells which had been left as traps over swaths of land.

With Gaius' warnings fresh in his memory, Arthur forced himself to reign in his impatience and follow the instructions on the map to the letter.

The map also had him avoiding most villages. Gaius had doubted whether anyone might recognize Arthur at this point, but he warned there were spies and informants everywhere and it was best Arthur stayed away from populated areas until he reached his destination.

He pushed himself and the horse each day, traveling as late into the night as he dared by any light there was. As he lay down to sleep, he would think of Gwen, and try to use the image of her to drive out the horrors Gaius had told him. He still struggled to accept everything that had been lost and destroyed. It came back to him in his nightmares.

As the days wore on and he neared Lyonesse, his impatience changed to dread. He wasn't sure what he was afraid off, but he could not deny that he was afraid. Perhaps it was so much of the ravaged countryside, or the restless nights haunted by bad dreams; but he could not deny to himself that as much as he wished to reach Gwen, he dreaded his journey's end.

On the sixteenth day, as he reached the top of a hill, he looked out and saw it. A large plane of grass and farms, and beyond that: Lyonesse. It was a very unattractive city. The walls were high and formidable and the castle a dark grey, with five towers, each appearing to frown down at anyone who might approach. This was a town built for one purpose and one purpose only: defense, living was secondary.

Arthur urged his horse onward.

It took two hours after Lyonesse appeared, for him to reach the front gates. Close up, Arthur could see the many soldiers lining the wall, all armed to the teeth.

He was stopped as he rode into town and he sword demanded off of him, as he was informed the only people allowed weapons in Lyonesse were the guards, soldiers, and knights. He surrendered it without protest.

As he rode up the streets, he watched the people. Everyone appeared strained and worried. You could feel the fear in the air, see it in the whispered conversations and anxious glances.

Arthur left his horse at a stable a few streets away from the castle, and then walked up the streets the rest of the distance.

As he reached the entrance gate to the castle courtyard he was halted by a guard.

"What is your business?" the guard demanded, placing a hand threateningly on his sword hilt.

Arthur hesitated. This was not a man to try to explain the truth to, but somehow he must be let into the castle.

"I request an audience with the Lady Guinevere. I have important information."

The guard snorted. "You expect me to let you just go up and talk to her majesty? Just like that?"

"She will want to see me," said Arthur, trying to throw as much authority and assurance into his voice.

The guard snorted. "I don't care. You don't have the proper papers and I've never seen you before, so I don't let you in."

"I bring the information from Merlin himself," Arthur lied.

The guard hesitated. "Well, I suppose I could summon one of the knights to see you. Mind: if you're up to no good and I do that, it will be the worse for you."

Arthur hesitated and glanced past the guard at what he could see of the courtyard. It was full of soldier and men. He wasn't going to be able to force his way through all this. So he'd have to jump through the hoops. A knight would be just one more person to try to persuade to let him see Guinevere, but more likely to give in than a castle guard. He nodded. "Very well. I'll speak to a knight."

The guard leaned over and gave instructions to a small boy, who in turn ran off quickly. Arthur was then shown to a seat on a wooden bench.

As the minutes ticked by, he tapped his foot impatiently, feeling his nerves strained. Now that he had a better view of it, he looked around the courtyard again, and frowned. The soldiers were training. Everyone was heavily armored. It didn't take en experienced eye, to tell at a glance that these men were preparing for battle.

The courtyard itself was very old: the cobblestones worn and smooth. But, what caught Arthur's eye, what would have caught anyone's, was that almost in the exact middle stood a large stone, and imbedded up to its hilt in the stone was a sword.

Arthur just had time to consider how odd it was when he heard a voice that sounded dimly familiar.

"The boy said there was someone here with information?"

Arthur's head snapped up and towards the voice. Sir Leon was striding towards the guard. The knight looked old and battle worn, a deep scar ran across his forehead, but there was no mistaking him.

The guard opened his mouth to reply but Arthur had already risen to his feet.

"Leon!" And then he fell silent, too aware of the guard nearby and many others within earshot, and knowing that caution was advisable.

Leon froze, staring at him. His expression was a war of emotion: shock, elation, disbelief, suspicion. It was all there. He reached out a hand to grasp Arthur and then let if fall again.

"He said he wanted to see Her Majesty," muttered the guard, eying Arthur with suspicion. "Of course I told him it was out of the question. Whatever he has to say he can say to you."

Leon still stood there, stunned.

"Said he was sent by Master Merlin," continued the guard, in the tone of one who clearly thought such a claim barely worth mentioning it was so ludicrous.

"Leon?" said Arthur again.

"Follow me," the man said abruptly.

And so Arthur followed, as Leon led him through the courtyard, past the sword in the stone, up the steps, and into the castle.

As they at last reached an empty hallway, Arthur spoke again: "Gaius sent me."

Leon stopped and turned back to him. He gripped Arthur's arm, in a grip so tight it was as if his life depended on it. "Is it really you?"

"Yes. Leon, it's me."

Leon seemed to search his face desperately, looking for something. Arthur wasn't sure what.

Arthur gave a small grin. "Do I really have to remind you all about that small incident in the tavern near Camlann with the barmaid and the apples? I mean you made me swear to never speak of it again but if it's the only way to convince you-"

"My Prince…" Leon whispered. "I-" His voice shook and he stopped himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then gave his head a shake. "Come." And he started walking briskly down the hall.

The pair continued down several more hallways and up two flights of stairs, before they reached a large wooden door. Leon knocked on it. After a few seconds Arthur heard a woman's voice call: "Come in."

Sir Leon glanced for one long moment at Arthur and then opened the door and led the way inside.

Arthur found himself in a large study. There were rows of shelves, a couch, a table, and a desk. Everything was utilitarian and practical. There was none of the elegance of Camelot's castle. What furniture was here, was used and used often.

Standing behind the desk, looking thoughtfully out the window was Guinevere

She was older now, in her forties. Grey streaked her dark hair, and her face was strained and tired, lined more than one might expect after only twenty years. But to Arthur she had never looked more beautiful.

"Gwen."

She looked round, and her eyes winded in shock.