A/N: So, I actually changed where I had decided to split chapters, so this one is a pretty decent length. Also, fun fact: I've been working on this story for three days and it's already a thousand words longer than Reunion. I have no life. I'm going to fail all my classes.
Also, if you've been reading this for the past few days (since I started posting) you may have noticed the content rating change? It went from K+ to T. That starts to come up in chapter 5, and it's nothing super graphic or anything, but I decided to play it safe and just change the rating in case. Also, I plan to get more graphic/violent (that sounds weird... whatever) in this fic than I was in the others, because I actually really enjoy writing fight scenes and can't believe I've hardly had any of those so far!
Disclaimer: see ch. 1; thanks!
.*.*.*.*.*.
A month after Grav, Lamorak, Galeschin, and Ewan had arrived in Britain, they still had not left. They had initially planned to only stay a few days at most, but kept finding excuses to stay, most due to the pleasant community they found in the knights and their families.
One night after more than a few drinks in Vanora's tavern, Grav found himself taking in the busyness around him, and discovered that he did not, in fact, want to leave. Immediately after that realization, he felt guilty. However, over the next few days, the desire to stay continued to grow and the desire to leave diminished accordingly. Gawain found him perched on the wall overlooking the city in the same place they had held their first conversation.
"What's wrong?" Gawain asked.
"Nothing," Grav replied. This was met with silence from Gawain that somehow managed to exude doubt. "How do you do that?"
"What?" Gawain asked.
"Read people," Grav replied.
"I thought nothing was wrong."
"No, nothing's wrong."
"So what's wrong?"
Grav sighed. "I don't want to leave."
"Britain?"
"No, I don't want to leave Britain."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"What's the problem?"
Grav gave Gawain an odd look. "What do you mean 'what's the problem'? I have to go home."
"But why? Why do you feel like returning to Sarmatia is what you have to do? Because you were born there?"
"Because I need to tell my—our family that I survived. I made it through forced service by the Romans."
Gawain was silent. Finally, he shrugged. "So go back? What's keeping you here?"
"Nothing," Grav said immediately. A moment later, he added: "Everything."
"Well, that's contradictory."
"It's just… I like it here. I like the people; Cymbeline, Bedivere, Kei, Vanora and Bors and their children, Galahad, Arthur…"
"Right."
"And I'm afraid that if I go home, I won't like it."
"Then stay."
"But I also feel obligated to go home. I can't just let Mother believe I died while I stay here, alive."
"So go home and tell her you're alive, then come back."
"I can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Because… I don't know. I just can't. How is everything so clear to you?"
Gawain paused. "I don't know. I wrestled with the same things four years ago, when our contract to Rome ended. I guess I've had more time to think them through and decide about them."
Grav sighed. They sat in silence for a moment before Gawain spoke again: "Why couldn't you return to Sarmatia and come back here?"
Grav was quiet. "I'm not sure. I suppose that feels like I would go back to tell Mother that I lived, then abandon her again. And in that case, what would be the point in going?"
Gawain shrugged. "Maybe you'd decide you actually like Sarmatia better than Britain." He glared up at looming storm clouds. "The weather's probably better there, for one."
"Even Gaul has better weather than Britain," Grav laughed. He paused, and then continued: "And I don't know if I want to find that I like Sarmatia best."
Gawain sighed. "I can't tell you what to do; you have to make that decision yourself."
Grav sighed and nodded. "I know. I've talked to Lamorak and Galeschin and Ewan, and they are all at the same place that I am; they can't decide whether to stay or go back."
"What is the main reason you have for going back to Sarmatia?" Gawain asked.
Grav thought for a moment. "To see our family again. To have a family again."
"You could ask them to come here with you. Arthur would give them refuge."
"Right, and how would I convince them to do that?"
"Well, for one, it's safer," Gawain said. "There's no Roman presence, so no conscription." He paused. "That's about it."
Grav laughed. "You won't leave Britain but you can't think of anything else good to say about it?"
"Well, my other reasons to stay are personal: Cymbeline, Arthur, and even Galahad and Bors and Vanora and the children. I mean, mostly Cymbeline. But all of them and more."
"Cymbeline wouldn't come to Sarmatia if you wanted to go home?"
"She would, probably," Gawain shrugged. "She wouldn't be very happy about it, but she probably would. But that's not even relevant, because Sarmatia isn't home to me anymore. It's just the place where I was born and lived for a little while. Britain is where I grew up, and learned just about everything I know, and have spent my entire life. My family is here; sure, my family by birth is in Sarmatia, but my real family are the people I just mentioned. I could leave this island, but I could never leave them."
Grav nodded and was silent for a while. "That doesn't really help me."
"Right," Gawain chuckled. "I think you just have to figure out where your family is, or who you want your family to be. And if you have to go to Sarmatia to make that decision, then go back to Sarmatia. Otherwise, you're welcome to stay."
Grav nodded again. "Where did you get so wise?"
"I think I just spend too much time with Bedivere."
.*.*.*.*.*.
After his conversation with Gawain, Grav told his companions what Gawain had told him and they made their decision. Three days later found them getting ready to leave for Sarmatia. The sun had hardly risen when they stood in the courtyard of the villa, saddled and laden horses behind them, saying goodbye to their new friends.
"You're sure about this?" Cymbeline teased, prodding Grav. "Sarmatia is a long way to travel to just decide to turn around and come back."
"I am," Grav nodded. His companions demonstrated their agreement. "Hopefully we'll see you again."
"I hope so," Cymbeline smiled, "but I also hope you find where you belong."
"Thank you," Grav grinned. He accepted a brief hug from the girl. "I was hoping to say goodbye to Gawain."
"He'll be here," Cymbeline reassured him. "Bors and Galahad as well."
"Why did Arthur want us to come here before we left?" Galeschin appeared beside Grav.
"You'll see," Cymbeline shrugged.
"Thanks," Galeschin rolled his eyes.
"You all have enough food for your journey?" Vanora worried around the four men.
"We have plenty of food," Galeschin reassured her. "Thank you so much."
"Van, they'll be fine," Cymbeline added.
"Thank you, Vanora," Ewan laughed.
"Yes, thank you," Grav grinned. "You've been so kind to us since we got here. We really appreciate it."
Vanora smiled at the men and nodded. "I have to get to work. Stay safe on your travels."
"Thank you," Grav repeated. The other men echoed, and Vanora offered them a final smile before turning and leaving.
Guinevere was next. "You may have only been here for a short time, but we have enjoyed your presence in the fort. Should you decide to return, you will certainly be welcome."
"Thank you," Grav bowed.
Bedivere sidled up beside Cymbeline. He handed them each a small bundle, and then passed a second one to Ewan. "Some emergency herbs, bandages, and so on. But try not to get hurt." Ewan held up the second bundle, and Bedivere nodded. "Ginger. It should help with your sickness. Chew some of the root, or steep a bit of it in hot water. But you probably won't have hot water on the ship. So just stick to chewing it."
"Thank you," Ewan laughed.
"There should be enough for two trips," Bedivere added. "In case you do decide to come back. If not, it will help with any nausea, so it can still come in handy."
Ewan nodded. Grav looked up, checking the sky. He frowned when he saw how much the sun had risen. "We need to go."
"Just another minute," Cymbeline glanced out the gate.
"What are we waiting for?" Ewan asked.
Before Cymbeline could answer, the sharp sound of hooves on flagstones rang out in the courtyard and Arthur rode in, followed closely by Gawain, Galahad, and Bors.
"Where are you all going?" Grav asked, eyeing the extra packhorse following Galahad.
"With you," Gawain replied nonchalantly, dismounting.
"What?"
"I talked to Galahad and Bors after I talked to you, and we decided that we should take word back to Sarmatia of the others who came to Britain with us," Gawain explained. "There were twenty-four others whose families don't know what happened to them. We owe it to them to tell them."
"And I'm going along because they fell under my command," Arthur added. "It is only right."
"Are you sure?" Grav asked, surprised by the revelation.
Gawain glanced at Cymbeline. "Definitely."