Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

"It's strange, isn't it," Cleva said, "how people who were close to each other all those years ago found each other again in this life. Take Haralda and Percival, for example. They found each other before even getting their memories back."

Eyes still closed, Gwaine mumbled an assent and slid further under the blankets, prompting her to say playfully, "Am I boring you? You do realize it's almost time to get up, right?"

"Aw, don't say that." He rolled around and wrapped his arms around her, dragging her down from her sitting position. "And yeah, it's strange, just like the fact that we're alive again at all. But that's magic for you."

"Hmm." She didn't resist, instead cuddling as close as physically possible. "I wish I knew if my parents were the same people this time around." Born as Charlotte in the late 20th century, Cleva had been given up by her birth mother as a baby and raised by an older couple who'd passed away a couple years before the apocalypse. "I loved my adoptive parents; they were wonderful...but I wish I knew for sure. I would've liked to know my father from before better...You at least had your parents again."

Seeing another five minutes of sleep was not in the cards, Gwaine said, "Yeah, I did. Also got to see the twins grow up, and Hertha as a young child...Me and Elen are closer, too. I'm glad of that."

Spring morning sunlight filtered into the room between the faded yellow curtains found throughout the comfortable, two-story house they now shared with the rest of the Barclayns as well as James and Mary's family. The center of new Anglesey was the coastal village called Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, or Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, or Llanfair Pwllgwyngyll, or Llanfairpwll, or Llanfair PG. Or just "the village," by people who hadn't managed to learn Welsh pronunciation yet. The several larger villages in the area, including Holyhead on the island of the same name, had been hit hard by quakes and plague.

Llanfairpwll, on the other hand, was mostly intact, even if about half of its original population had died in the past year, or left for various reasons. Now the population of the village hovered at about three thousand, close to its past number, with another couple thousand more scattered in smaller groups around the island. Communication and cooperation among groups had been mostly good so far.

In the two weeks since arriving, Gwaine and the others had already settled into a new rhythm of life. Mary had joined the staff of the settlement's part-time school, which Gwen had started; children still needed to be taught, after all. Gaius now lived by and worked at the village health center, along with several other medical professionals. Almost everyone else had been drafted into arguably the most important two jobs in the settlement: structure maintenance and farming.

Everyone needed somewhere to live, and three thousand plus people required a lot of food, and supplies from the past year were very low, given that few people had been able to keep any crops alive. The livestock that remained also required attention; Hayden had quickly become part of that.

Naturally, most of the tension that erupted in Anglesey involved food, which had been rationed by the jokingly-named "Town Council" for a long time now. Somehow, over the past few months, Arthur had managed to find his way into being the most influential person on said council.

I'm not surprised, and I'm not complaining, either.

Despite many mistakes in the early years, Arthur had been an incredible leader for a long time. Him stepping back into a similar role made sense.

A lot of survivors here have valuable skills. But most of them aren't experienced leaders, not like him.

And, oddly enough, a lot of people seemed to know that he at least believed himself to be the King Arthur. Reincarnation had been easier to accept when evidence of magic started becoming more widespread. Wyverns, gigantic wolves, and other once-mythical creatures abounded, and two unrelated people on Anglesey...and not ones with past lives...had started showing signs of magical talent.

Literally the day after Elen had arrived, Arthur had asked her to be their teacher. "There was a time when I never thought I'd say this, but with the world like it is, we'll need anyone with magic to know how to use it constructively." Gaius, despite his magical talent staying more dormant than not in modern times, offered to be an instructor too if either of the new sorcerers...a teenage boy and a twenty-year-old woman...seemed to have a healing talent.

Gwaine, along with Leon, the other former knights, and about three dozen volunteers spent around half their time training for combat and hunting. Over the winter, Arthur had convinced the other leaders of the settlement that a defensive force trained in using both the relatively few firearms the settlement possessed and the larger number of "old fashioned" weapons. Namely, swords, longbows, crossbows, and spears. Somehow, various survivors had amassed quite a lot, and made some, too.

"I've had to be a blacksmith lately more than anything else," Elyan told Gwaine one day. "Fortunately I've got a couple students, and they're ready to learn fast."

He also agreed with Gwaine that sometimes, training with Arthur bellowing at them really brought back the good old days in Camelot, and it was wonderful.

So, in spite of constant concerns over food, medicine, and protection, Gwaine thought life in the settlement wasn't half bad. We'd all feel better if Merlin were here, but for now, I've got family, friends, purpose…

He moaned in complaint as Cleva made another move to get out of bed. "Come on, darling …"

"We all have work to do, Gwaine." She laughed as he scrunched up his face at her. Dropping a kiss on his lips, she pulled out of his grasp and swung herself out of bed. "Haven't you got training this morning?"

"Ugh, yes. Don't want Arthur hollering at me. Now that brings back memories..."

Downstairs, the kitchen was crowded. Ellie and Emma chattered and giggled over breakfast while their parents attempted to clean up the mess that was the aftermath of cooking over a hearth instead of on a modern stove when one still wasn't used to it. Everard stormed around as Elwin tried to eat and rolled his eyes at his twin's behavior. Hertha clambered all over the place as she put up the curtains she'd washed the day before.

Nearly colliding with Elen as she walked in from the next room, Gwaine asked, "What's with Everard today?"

"I have no idea, and I haven't the time for it." Elen picked up an unclaimed plate of food and wrinkled her nose. "You know, I'm not that hungry. I've got to go work with my 'apprentices.'"

"Well, I'm starved." Taking the plate from her, Gwaine asked, "How are they doing, anyway?"

"Isla's progressing nicely; Ash is being stubborn." Making another face at the food, she added, "Hayden's already out with the dogs and sheep and cows and horses...having the time of his life, I'm sure. I'll see you later."

"They'd have to be reptiles for him to be really happy," Gwaine commented, but his sister had already left. Shrugging, he went over to Cleva, standing over by the back door with her own breakfast. "Elen's in a mood."

"She's not the only one."

"True enough." Wincing as Hertha slipped and almost fell off the counter-top under a window, he called, "Hey, wait a minute and I'll help you with those!"

"No, I've got it!" she called back cheerfully.

Hertha always did like doing risky things herself. Damn, some things never change.

He was thinking th e same two hours later, out on the football field that now served as a training field, sparring with Ruby, who had picked up sword-fighting remarkably fast for someone who had never touched a sword until a week ago. She still made all the common mistakes of a novice...giving away her next move, forgetting to keep up her footwork, hesitating before attacking. Gwaine went easy on her for about a minute, letting her practice the moves she knew, then disarmed her with a flick of the wrist. For the fourth time that morning.

"Goddamn it!" she yelled, roughly brushing strands of her black hair from her face. "Is that move even legal? I've never seen anyone else do it!"

"You've never seen my cousins in a sword fight." He stuck his weapon in the dirt and picked up hers, handing it back to her hilt-first. "Well, only Everard really got the hang of it. Elwin and their father...not so much. My father taught me, and I taught some of my students...Everard's son Aldwyn was the best, along with Holly…"

He didn't realize he'd trailed off until Ruby prompted him. "Who's Holly?"

Gwaine took a deep breath. "Holly...she was my daughter. Crazy kid...usually did the opposite of what she was told when she was young. She was an incredible fighter as an adult. Always found the humor in things, too." He had to stop there.

"She sounds…" Ruby looked down at her sword. "She sounds pretty cool."

"Yeah, she was." Clearing his throat, Gwaine retrieved his weapon. "Ready for another round?"

While they cleaned up their equipment after training, Gwaine found himself next to Lancelot. It's so strange to seem him, alive and in his right mind...He died so long before the rest… "How was your trainee?"

"Quite good today. I've been working with him for a month. And yours?"

"Ruby has real potential. Lots of passion, too."

"I noticed you talking for a minute earlier...looked like more than simple instructions," Lancelot said. "It's none of my business, of course…"

"Nah, it's fine." Gwaine hesitated. "I ended up telling her a bit about my daughter."

"Oh. Gwen told me about your children…" Lancelot looked pensive. "I'm so sorry, Gwaine; I can't even imagine…"

"It is what it is. So, what's the deal with you and our favorite royals? I mean, that whole Morgana using you business...most of us didn't find out the truth until years afterward, them included…"

"We've...discussed it." Lancelot smiled wanly. "Gwen and Arthur...They were happy. They are happy together. And I will continue serving my king with honor. That's what matters to me."

"Of course. I'm sorry I bothered you about it."

"It's all right. Truly."

Letting a moment pass, Gwaine commented, "You really haven't changed at all. You weren't some kind of devoted celebrity bodyguard before the apocalypse, were you?"

The other knight laughed out loud. "No, I was an aspiring stage actor. Not sure I could pull it off anymore, though. Let's just say Luca was far better at dissembling that Lancelot."

"Well, I for one hope we get a chance to test that out sometime."

That night, Arthur held a meeting in the living room of the cottage he shared with Gwen, Elyan, Percival, and Haralda. Gwaine didn't know why he, Everard, and Elen were invited until he got there; only other people formerly from the era of Albion were in attendance, including Leon, Gaius, and Lancelot.

"We would've invited your entire family," Gwen said apologetically, "but some of the other people on the settlement council may be keeping tabs on everyone; they're a little uncomfortable with the whole 'Arthur is a resurrected king' thing, and what we need to talk about is Camelot-related."

"Makes sense to me," Gwaine agreed, jabbing Everard with his elbow to stop the teen from sending more death glares at his sister. We've all been a little distant with her so far, but he's been downright unpleasant. "What's the problem?"

"We need to find Merlin," Arthur said bluntly. "We're surviving for now...but what if the earthquakes return? Or the storms...nothing about them was normal."

"And if we've all returned from the dead, who's to say that others won't?" Elyan said. "Old enemies like Morgana, Mordred…"

"Or Morgause, Nimueh, perhaps others with or without magic, but with evil intent." Gaius shifted in his seat. "It is very possible that dark magic caused the apocalypse itself. And that dark forces will attempt to take power by whatever means necessary."

"Or destroy anything that remains." Elen looked faintly sick.

"Merlin was the only sorcerer I ever knew who could command the earth itself, and was also good at heart," Arthur said after a brief silence. "We need him. To make sense of all this, if nothing else."

Everyone nodded and made noises of agreement.

Because imagining Merlin as responsible for this, or deceased, is too much for all of us.

"So how do we track him down?" Everard asked. "It's not like we have his phone number...or any working phones, for that matter."

"I've been thinking," Arthur said, "and Lancelot, Gwen, and I were discussing it earlier. Merlin had a big heart and so much power, but he did have especially strong connections to certain places, to certain things…."

"And not to suggest they're things," Leon interjected, seeming to catch on, "but one of those would be dragons, right? He was a Dragonlord."

"Good example," Arthur replied with a firm nod. "But then we have the issue of finding a dragon. Kilgharrah died even before I did, and we don't know if Aithusa's still alive or where she might be. But as for other things, like actual locations…"

"Gwen and I were thinking the Lake of Avalon," Lancelot said. "Merlin took my body there, for a burial."

"Freya's, too," Gwen said softly, referring to Merlin's first true love, cursed and killed far too soon.

"It's also where he kept Excalibur, until he put it in the stone," Gaius said.

Gwaine and Haralda both snorted audibly at Arthur's expression. "I can't believe I thought I'd pulled that thing out myself…" the former king muttered.

"And that's where he put the sword after Pendragon's death," Elen said. At everyone's looks, she shrugged. "We talked sometimes, mostly about important magical objects. Nothing like trying to murder each other in a warehouse to make two people bond."

"Wait, what?" Lancelot began, but Haralda cut him off.

"All right, we find this special Lake of Avalon and, what? Cast a spell on it or something and hope Merlin senses it?"

Gwaine met Arthur's gaze, and all at once he understood. "No, we retrieve the sword. I mean, even if Merlin doesn't get the message, that thing's good for killing stuff that's already dead, right? And zombies aren't totally out of the question here."

Arthur grinned. " Exactly ."

Pause. "So at least some of us are going to go traipsing across England again to find a lake that might not exist anymore and retrieve a sword that's been at the bottom of said lake for over a thousand years." Everard's face took on the exact expression it had used to whenever one of his several children had done something especially daring and stupid and he didn't understand why. "Wonderful."

Chuckling, Percival spoke up. "What could possibly go wrong?"