A/N: So, there are several notes I have to make on this chapter. First off, you AL buffs out there may notice that I've switched Elaine of Benoic and Elaine/Helaine of Corbenic, sort of, in that legends-wise, it's Elaine/Helaine who marries Lancelot and mothers Galahad, while Elaine of Benoic is Lancelot's mother (and the sister of Evaine, who is mother of Bors the Younger). Nentres was married to Elaine of Garlot, Arthur's half sister and Morgana and Morgause's sister. Persides, on the other hand, was married to yet another Elaine-Elaine the Peerless. There are literally at least 6 Elaines in Arthurian Legend, no kidding (for those keeping count, the one I haven't mentioned is Elaine of Astolat, AKA the Lady of Shalott).
Another note is that I got a little confused about the location of Roman provinces, and misplaced Gaul/Gallia a tad. I thought it was a bit more north, but that's more into Germania, according to the maps I pulled up via Bing this time around. So let's just say that Galeschin, Grav, and co. spent at least the last portion of their service term in Germania Inferior, which is the northernmost part of Gaul. According to these maps.
Also, the first three sections of this chapter were somehow never published on FFN? I'm not really sure how that happened, exactly, but here they are, for the first time ever!
Disclaimer: See ch. 1.
.*.*.*.*.*.
Supper had been tense and awkward after Gawain had admitted his intentions to return to Britain. He remained quiet for most of the meal, leaving the talking to his brothers, stepbrothers, and Dindrane. Morgause was silent as well, seemingly despairing at the idea of getting her oldest child back just to lose him again. Pellinore seemed to be silently seething at the idea of anyone actually wanting to return to Britain.
That night, Gawain had crawled into the little alcove he had once shared with both of his brothers. Now, he and Gaheris could just barely fit inside, and their feet stuck out into the common room of the hut.
"You're really going to leave us again?" Gaheris said softly long after Gawain had thought he had fallen asleep.
"I am," Gawain murmured. "But it doesn't have to be that way. You could come with me."
"Why?" Gaheris asked. "We're fine here."
"Britain isn't really so bad," Gawain replied. "I mean, it seems like it's always raining for most of the year, and the Woads and Roman criminals still attack us sometimes, but the people there aren't so bad. There's no Roman power any more, and no-one gets conscripted. You could become one of Arthur's knights if you wanted, or do whatever else you wanted. You wouldn't be stuck probably dying for the Romans someday or farming the plains if you survived. It's like… the best of both worlds. You can be a warrior and fight and defend others, but you're still free. You can get married and have children without having to wait until your term is over. And Arthur is good and kind. He's worth following, which I can't say for any other Roman I've met."
Gaheris stayed quiet, and Gawain thought that his brother might have actually fallen asleep this time. He was just starting to nod off himself when Gaheris spoke again: "I guess it really doesn't sound so bad after all."
.*.*.*.*.*.
In the morning, Gawain woke to the smell of meat sizzling over a fire. A glance to his side told him that Gaheris was still asleep, so he slipped back out into the common room, moving carefully to avoid waking his brother. He saw the figure of his mother bent over the cooking fire, familiar yet unfamiliar, just like everything else here.
"Good morning," Morgause said over her shoulder, not turning.
"Good morning," Gawain replied, pulling his tunic over his head.
"Are you leaving already?" Morgause said bitterly, and Gawain froze.
"No," he said, reaching for his boots. "Not just yet."
"But you are leaving?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Gawain paused. "Because I have to."
"Why do you have to."
"There's more for me in Britain than there is here," he sighed.
"What? A Roman lord and a wild bitch?" Morgause spun around, her eyes red as tears ran down her cheeks.
"Arthur is no Roman lord," Gawain sighed, kneeling in front of her and resting his hands on her shoulders. "And Cymbeline is no wild bitch. I'm going back because I love them both, and others there."
"And you don't love your brothers?" Morgause demanded. "You don't love your mother?"
"I do," Gawain murmured, drawing her close. "But… I don't know how to explain it. I belong there. Britain is more my home than Sarmatia ever was."
Morgause pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I never thought I'd have my firstborn back again. And now… you come back, but just to tell me that you're leaving again."
"You could come back with me," Gawain said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder again. "All of you. You'd be welcome. Arthur has promised asylum from the Romans to anyone who wants to return with us. There will be no more conscriptions, no more raiders—we've seen their work on our way here; an entire village ransacked, everyone in it killed, and the entire thing burned to the ground. There is peace in Britain."
Morgause smiled slightly. "Pellinore would never agree to it."
"We could convince him," Gawain pursued. "Grav and Lamorak have seen it too; they both want to go back as well, but I doubt they will without the rest of you. Between the three of us… and if you said you wanted to go, don't you think we could bring him around?"
"I don't know," Morgause turned back to her cooking. "And I don't know if I want to go either."
"Arthur is here with me," Gawain said after a pause. "He and two other knights camped out on the plains last night, but they're going to come here before they continue on. I'd like you all to meet him."
"Alright," Morgause nodded, back still to her son. They were silent for a moment, then: "You should go and get him. Tell him to come for breakfast."
Gawain smiled slightly. "I will."
.*.*.*.*.*.
Gawain rode out and fetched Arthur, Galahad, and Galeschin from the plains outside the village. They ate breakfast outside the small hut with the rest of the family. Arthur spoke as much as possible in his very broken Sarmatian—bits and pieces he'd picked up from his knights over the years, as well as on their journey through the grasslands. They, in turn and through their laughter, responded in unpracticed Latin. The breakfast was, somehow, genuinely enjoyable, despite the fact that Pellinore spent the entire time glaring at Arthur—not that the king noticed—and Morgause looked ready to break down into tears at a moment's notice.
"Thank you greatly for your kindness, but we should be going now," Arthur said finally, eyeing how far the sun had risen.
"Where are you going?" Pellinore asked shortly.
"We're heading for Galeschin's village," Arthur gestured to the boy. "We'll take him home first, and then Galahad and I will continue on, looking for the homes of the other boys that came to Britain at the same time as him and Gawain."
"And once you find them, you'll come back and take Gawain back to Britain with you?" Morgause asked, her voice thick.
"Yes," Arthur nodded, then stared meaningfully at Gawain. "Assuming that he still wants to leave by then." He turned back to Morgause and Pellinore. "You would all be welcome to come with us," he said, looking around the circle. "Britain will welcome you."
"Bah," Pellinore grumbled. "What would we want to go to that dismal place for?"
"I'll let you think about it," Arthur stood, bowing slightly to Pellinore before turning to Gawain. "I'm not sure when we'll be back, but we will be. If, by then, you've decided to stay, we will understand."
Gawain nodded wordlessly, standing and following Arthur and the knights over to their horses. "I'll be here when you return."
Arthur nodded and mounted his horse; Galahad and Galeschin followed suit. "Good luck," Gawain smiled up at Galeschin. "And to you two as well. None of us knew where the other knights came from, beyond that they were from two villages out past Lancelot's. Don't get lost out there."
Arthur grinned down at the bronze-haired knight. "We'll manage. We're following the Roman route, so they should be easy enough to find. I'm just hoping that they don't only speak Greek, like Palomides and his brothers did when they came to Britain."
.*.*.*.*.*.
The final three members of the small party rode for only a few more days before they found Galeschin's village. Similar to Gawain's village, this one was comprised of small, roundish huts clustered by a small stream, although the huts here were much closer together.
Arthur and Galahad followed Galeschin towards the village, very much aware of the wary glances the villagers were sending their way. "I'm looking for Ban," Galeschin paused to ask a boy collecting water from the stream.
"That way," the boy pointed, staring shyly up at the horsemen.
"Thank you," Galeschin smiled down at him.
As before, Arthur and Galahad hung back as Galeschin dismounted by the hut identified as his family's. There was an older woman with long, dark hair, greying at the roots, along with two younger women with the same soft brown hair as Galeschin. There was a great deal of screaming and sobbing as all three women leapt to their feet and all-but tackled the knight. At the racket, a man with greying hair ran up from the stream and was pulled into the group.
A few minutes later, Galeschin waved Arthur and Galahad over, grinning widely. "This is my mother, Helaine, and my sisters, Elaine and Evaine. And this is my father, Ban."
"It is good to meet you all," Arthur dismounted and bowed deeply. "I am Arthur Castus, and this is Galahad."
"Galeschin says that you are a Roman commander," Ban eyed Arthur stiffly.
"Yes, in Britain," Arthur paused. "In fact, I was the commander to your older son, Lancelot."
"But he is not with you," Helaine observed.
"No, he is not," Arthur paused again. "He should be. He…" the commander's voice trailed off, and his eyes drifted to stare down at the ground.
"Lancelot was one of the best of us," Galahad spoke up. "He survived fifteen years in Britain—only six of us managed that. He received his papers of freedom, and even started to leave Britain, but, at the last second, he—all of us, actually—turned back. We went back to fight a battle that seemed doomed to failure, because we knew it was the right thing to do. He fell in that battle… saving someone else."
Helaine nodded, smiling proudly through the tears welling in her eyes. "He was always a brave boy."
"He was," Arthur nodded, smiling fondly.
"Come on, then," Helaine stepped forward and hooked her arms through Arthur and Galahad's. "You have a lot to tell me about my oldest child. And you"—she looked pointedly at Galahad—"have a lot to tell me about my youngest."
.*.*.*.*.*.
They ate dinner outside of the family's hut, seated around a low-burning fire. Arthur, Galahad, and Galeschin were introduced to Nentres and Persides, Evaine and Elaine's husbands. Both of the young men had served the Romans in Thracia, but were extremely interested in the other knights' tales of Britain and Gaul.
"We should go back with them," Galeschin said, turning to his parents.
"Go back… to Britain?" Helaine gaped.
"Why not?" Galeschin asked. "Arthur has promised asylum for anyone who returns with him, and protection from the Romans. There will be no more conscriptions—Evaine and Elaine won't ever have to worry about their sons being taken away from them, like you did. Well, that is if Evaine and Elaine and Nentres and Persides wanted to come with us."
Helaine and Ban traded glances. "I think we'll have to talk that over," Helaine laughed.
"But it's admittedly not an altogether bad proposition," Ban admitted. "I spent my fifteen years in Britain, and I hated it the entire time. But, thinking back, I think that was really just because I was missing my wife." He wrapped an arm around Helaine's shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, eliciting a smile from her.
"I'd go," Nentres shrugged, trading a glance with Evaine. "To avoid conscription for our sons? And if the rest of your family decided to go as well?"
"I would too," Persides traded a similar look with Elaine. "But I'd have to bring my own family along."
"They would be welcome," Arthur nodded.
"Do we have to decide tonight?" Helaine asked.
"No," Arthur shook his head. "Galahad and I are going to travel further on, looking for the villages some of the other knights who served with us came from. We'll come back in a few weeks, whether or not we find them—the Roman route I was told of wasn't very clear, and we've had guides to get us to the other villages in the form of knights who'd come from them. But those families deserve to know what happened to their sons just as much as the others we've visited."
Ban nodded. "A noble goal."
"But you'll stay with us tonight, of course," Helaine said, standing and beginning to bustle around the fire, collecting dishes.
"Thank you, lady," Arthur stood as well and took the dishes from her. "We would appreciate the roof. But we'll wash the dishes; it's the least we can do."
"Well, if you insist," Helaine laughed. "I certainly wouldn't mind!"
.*.*.*.*.*.
Almost two months after Arthur and Galahad had left, Gawain was returning from a hunting trip with Pellinore, Lamorak, and Gaheris when he saw a small caravan heading towards the village. He passed his catch over to Lamorak and spurred his horse towards the caravan. He pulled Gringolet up next to Galahad and grinned lopsidedly at his best friend.
"Welcome back," Gawain said. "I see a few people decided to take Arthur up on his offer?"
"Lancelot and Galeschin's family, which is their parents and sisters," Galahad said. "Plus, both girls are married, so their husbands came, obviously, and brought their parents, as well as Persides's two sisters and the older one's husband—that's Enid and Igraine and Gorlois."
"Wow," Gawain grinned, glancing back at the caravan.
"What about your family?" Galahad asked. "Will they come with us?"
"I think so," Gawain glanced towards his family's home. "I know that Ewan and his family have decided to stay, but I think that I've convinced my family to come with us. It helps that none of the boys—or Dindrane—are married, and there aren't a lot of options for them here."
Arthur rode up beside Galahad, two men behind him. "Gawain, hello. This is Ban, Lancelot and Galeschin's father, and this is Persides."
"Hello," Gawain greeted the men, then turned his attention back to Arthur. "Where will you all camp tonight?"
"Outside the village," Arthur replied. "We don't want to get in the way. I'd like to leave again tomorrow morning, although if your family will be joining us, we can wait another day or two."
Gawain nodded. "I'll go back and speak to Pellinore. Hopefully I can have an answer for you by tonight."
"Pellinore?" Ban leaned forward. "That old goat is still alive out here?" he laughed loudly. "Let me come with you. I'll talk some sense into him. Is Lot around anywhere? I bet we could talk him into coming as well."
"Lot is dead," Gawain said, confused. "He was my father—how did you know him, and Pellinore?"
"I served with them in Britain… a long time ago," Ban chuckled. "The two of them, a grumpy old chap named Bors… There were a few others who survived and came back with us too."
Gawain, Galahad, and Arthur exchanged bewildered glances and couldn't help but laugh. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," Gawain grinned. "Pellinore keeps complaining about a big, grumpy man who was in Britain with him—hearing that, I'd bet it's Bors the Elder he's fussing over."
"I'll take that bet," Galahad laughed.
"Come up with me and talk to Pellinore," Gawain turned back to Ban. "We'll get his answer back to you tonight or tomorrow morning, Arthur."
.*.*.*.*.*.
In the end, Morgause, Pellinore, and Ban stayed up almost the entire night, debating whether or not the family would make the trip to Britain—much to Grav's frustration: "It's not like the two of you have had the better part of two months to decide this or anything."
When the sun rose, Pellinore walked stiffly to the small camp with Ban, Gawain, and Grav to inform Arthur that his family would be joining them on the return trip to Britain. Arthur received the information happily, and promised that the caravan would wait a few extra days for Pellinore, Morgause, and the rest of the family to tie up their affairs and prepare for the journey.
Three days later, a fourth cart joined Arthur's caravan, laden with the possessions of the large family, as well as Morgause and Dindrane. Gawain took turns riding Gringolet with Gareth, who didn't have his own horse, walking beside one or other of the carts or riders whenever Gareth rode.
There was some debate about whether or not they should even visit Iseult's village again on their way back. Finally, Arthur decided against doing so, as the summer was already beginning to fade into autumn and he was worried about making it back to the port before the ships stopped for the winter. They also gave the burned village a wide berth as they headed back for Bors and his family.
.*.*.*.*.*.
Bors the Younger was beginning to wonder if his king and friends were ever coming back—and how exactly to explain their probable deaths to Cymbeline and Guinevere—when Gawain and Galahad rode into the village.
"Good afternoon!" the call distracted Bors enough for Elyan to deliver a hard blow with the butt of a staff to the small of his father's back.
"Oops," Elyan winced.
"Good job, boy!" Bors the Elder cheered from the fence of the practice arena. "Use your opponent's distraction to your advantage!"
Bors glowered at his father before turning towards the source of the voice. Galahad was grinning from where he perched on the fence, and, next to him, Gawain's expression wasn't much different.
"We're back," the bronze-haired knight added unnecessarily, then dodged the wooden staff that came flying towards his head.
"Like I couldn't see that," Bors huffed, stomping over to them. "I was just starting to think that you'd… gone back without me."
"You thought we were dead!" Galahad faked indignation, drawing himself up—and losing his balance so that he nearly fell off the fence in the process.
"I did not," Bors growled. "But if I had, I'd've been right to do so." He looked around behind his friends. "Where's Arthur?"
"He's outside the village with the others," Gawain replied.
"Others?" Bors repeated.
"My and Grav's family, Lamorak's family"—
"Which is also technically Gawain and Aggravaine's family," Galahad interrupted, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Gawain.
"Galeschin's entire family, and his sisters' husbands' families came as well," Gawain finished. "Ewan decided to stay behind, though."
"What about yours?" Bors looked up—that was an odd sensation—at Galahad, who was doing a rather good job of blocking out the low afternoon sun.
"Dead," Galahad grew sober. "The whole village was burned to the ground."
"What about you?" Gawain asked. "Will your father and Elyan come with us?"
"Yes," Bors nodded. "But just them. No-one else in the village is interested. Not that there are many other people in the village."
"Arthur will want to know how long it'll take you to be ready," Gawain said.
"We could leave tonight, if he wanted," Bors grinned. "We've been packed almost since you left."
"Well, I think he plans to camp here for the night, but I think he'll be glad to know we can leave first thing in the morning," Gawain grinned. "He's worried about losing the weather for sailing home."
"I was starting to as well," Bors nodded soberly. "We were about ready to leave without you."
"We're glad you didn't," Gawain grinned. "We'll go back and talk to Arthur, and see you in the morning."
Bors nodded and grinned. "See you then."