Later in the afternoon, Gawain had traded Rhience for Bellicent, who had also fallen asleep in his arms, when Vanora bustled into the tavern, followed by her children—like chicks following their mother hen—and Bors, as well as Elyan and Bors the elder. The racket almost immediately woke the dozing babies, sending Rhience into another round of wails.
"Sorry," Vanora cringed. "I know how fussy that one is."
"It's fine," Cymbeline smiled. "He's been asleep for a little over an hour. I would've had to wake him up soon so he's able to sleep tonight anyways."
"So, these are yours?" Bors boomed, clapping Gawain on the shoulder. Bella stared wide-eyed up at the big knight. "Pretty little thing," Bors grinned down at her. "Too bad she looks so much like her father."
Gawain rolled his eyes, but grinned at the comment.
"Here," Galahad lifted Llamrei, who had also dozed off, up and passed him to Bors. "This one is yours, and I have a patrol to get to, so, if you'll excuse me…"
"Be safe," Cymbeline called after him. "Keep an eye out for Woads."
"Always," Galahad called back over his shoulder as he slipped out the door.
"Here," Bran grinned as she took Lot from Cymbeline. "You handle that one, and I'll take this one."
"Thanks," Cymbeline laughed, turning her full attention to Rhience, who continued to cry.
"What do you think?" Bran grinned at Gawain, balancing Lot on her hip.
"They're amazing," he grinned back.
"Every one of them is," Bors nodded in agreement, glancing proudly at his and Vanora's oldest child.
Cymbeline grinned. "So, I hear you've brought another child back with you?"
"Not so much a child," Bors laughed. "I was with another woman before I was brought here, and she was pregnant when I left. About a year after we got here, I got word that she'd died in childbirth. I didn't think the child survived, but apparently"—he clapped Elyan on the shoulder and hauled him over as the boy tried to slip past—"he did."
"Hello," Cymbeline smiled up at the fair-haired boy. "I'm Cymbeline."
"Elyan," the boy grinned.
"Here, take your brother," Bors passed his youngest son to his oldest. "Oi, where's Dag?" he turned back to Cymbeline.
"Um, I think he was on patrol with Cullwch and Dinadan this morning," Cymbeline replied. "They went out the opposite way from me and Bedivere. I'd think that they should be back soon."
Bors nodded and wandered off, leaving Elyan standing awkwardly with a toddler on his hip.
"That's Llamrei, by the way," Cymbeline grinned. "He's not quite gotten around to being able to pronounce his own name yet, in case you were thinking of asking."
"That's good to know," Elyan grinned at the toddler. "Hello, there. I'm Elyan, your big brother."
Llamrei yawned widely and wrapped his arms around Elyan's neck, resting his head on the older boy's shoulder.
"He likes his sleep," Gawain smiled. "But watch out—he's a drooler."
Elyan's eyes widened and he glanced down at the boy. Bran laughed. "It's not so bad," she reassured him. "It was a lot worse when he was teething."
"That's… good?" Elyan said.
The door to the tavern blew open, a gust of cold wind accompanying Dagonet as he entered the tavern.
"There he is!" Bors cried from the entry to the kitchen, heading for his son.
"Father!" Dag grinned, matching Bors's giant bear hug with his own. "Welcome home!"
"Oi, what's this?" Bors caught the stump of Dagonet's right arm and glowered at it.
"I missed a blow with my blade and caught it with my arm," Dag said simply, pulling the arm away. "It's not so bad; Cym's been working with me to strengthen my left arm, and we rigged a shield for the right."
"He's getting good with both," Cymbeline piped up. "Kei and I are both very happy with his progress."
Bors still seemed unhappy, but let the subject go, settling on enjoying the reunion with his children, and introducing Dag to his older brother and grandfather.
"Here," Cymbeline passed Rhience to Gawain. "I'm going to go check on Vanora; see if she needs any help. Don't worry, you'll be fine." She kissed Gawain on the forehead and brushed a finger over Rhience and Bella's cheeks in turn. She paused to press a kiss to the top of Lot's head, and then was off towards the kitchen.
"Mom's hosting the Sarmatians for dinner tonight," Branwyr said. "There's no kitchen in the barracks, so they can't exactly cook for themselves anyways, but it's also to welcome Arthur and Father and you and everyone home."
Gawain smiled. "It's good to be home."
"It is," Elyan piped up, looking around. "I know I just got here, but this already feels like home—and it feels good."
.*.*.*.*.*.
Morgause was uncomfortable. It wasn't the small room she and Pellinore had taken in the barracks—the room was actually larger than the one they'd shared back in the hut in Sarmatia. It wasn't the pert Woad girl Gawain had introduced them to when they reached the fort, although she could tell that Pellinore absolutely despised the child. It wasn't even the persistant drumming that had been thrumming throughout the fort since they walked through the gates. In fact, Morgause wasn't entirely sure what was making her so uncomfortable; she just knew that she was.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at the bare walls of the room. It was lightly furnished, with only a bed, chest for clothes, and small nightstand with a washbowl on top of it. Another pair of chests and a few bags, containing all of her and Pellinore's possessions—and probably a few of their sons'—had been added to the room, carried in by the boys, but she hadn't unpacked them yet. The shutters of the room were closed, helping to keep out the cold that fell as the sun set, but she still shivered slightly as she sat. She'd have to pull out some extra blankets for the bed.
Morgause jumped slightly as the door flew open and Gareth and Percival clattered into the room. "Grav and Lamorak are back," Gareth said. "They said that Bors's wife is making dinner for everyone to welcome us, and to welcome Arthur back. They're going to take us there."
Morgause stood and smiled, drawing herself in so that she stood straight and tall—proud. She brushed out her skirts, mindful of wrinkles from the way she had been sitting, and followed the youngest two boys back out into the hall. "Where's your brother?" she asked Aggravaine as she joined the cluster of her family in the hall.
"Gawain's back at the tavern," Grav replied. "That's where we're going—Vanora, Bors's wife, is cooking dinner."
"The boys mentioned," Morgause smiled fondly at Gareth and Percival. "Where is Pellinore?"
"He went upstairs to talk to Ban," Dindrane replied.
"Galeschin went to get his family to take them to the tavern; I'm sure he'll bring Pellinore too," Grav said. "But we can go up, if you'd like."
"I'm sure he'll find his way," Morgause shook her head. "Let's get going. Dindrane and I can offer to help… what did you say her name was?"
"Vanora," Grav supplied.
"We can offer to help Vanora with dinner," Morgause nodded, linking her arm through Grav's elbow.
The walked together through the crowded streets of the fort. That was when Morgause understood why she was so uncomfortable: everything was so close here. The buildings were close, crammed together inside a tight wall, and the narrow streets were so packed with people that it was sometimes difficult to move. It was so different from Sarmatia, where the village was open, a loose collection of huts and houses, with few people, surrounded by open plains as far as the eye could see. In Britain, even outside the fort, it felt crowded; the forest had been an entirely new concept to Morgause and the others.
"You'll get used to it," Grav said softly, patting her hand on his arm. "The part of Gaul I served in wasn't much different."
"You were much younger then than I am," Morgause laughed. "It may be a bit more difficult for me to get used to this."
Grav grinned and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, but didn't say anything more.
It didn't take them long to reach the tavern. This was one of the largest buildings they had seen so far, with the exception of the barracks; two stories tall, with the second clearly added on later than the first, a large open pavilion out in the front, and a small, even newer, addition tucked against the side. Grav led them inside, leaving the gloomy twilight behind in exchange for a brightly lit, very warm, almost muggy interior. Despite the size of the room, it was already starting to get crowded, primarily with children.
Morgause found her eyes drawn automatically across the room, towards her oldest son. Gawain was laughing, a bronze-haired baby on his hip. As she watched, he leaned down to wrap his free arm around the torso of a squirming dark-haired child, lifted the boy up, and swung him over the bench at the nearby table, seating him among a collection of similar-looking, slightly older children. Morgause stopped short as a toddler ran across her path, making for the still-open door and laughing evilly; Grav bent down and swooped the boy up before he could escape.
"Thank you!" a pretty girl with a long braid of bright red hair followed the boy over to them. She gave Grav a quick, one-armed hug, then relieved him of the child, tucking the boy under one arm as he kicked his legs wildly. "Hello," she smiled brightly. "I'm Branwyr."
"She's Bors and Vanora's oldest," Grav explained. "Bran, this is my mother, Morgause. This is… the rest of our family."
Branwyr laughed. "There's quite a few of you."
"Not as many as there are of you," Grav teased.
"Yeah, and we've added two since you were last here," Branwyr laughed. "My mum had a baby girl, and my father brought back our older half-brother." She turned her attention to the group behind Grav and Morgause. "I'm sure I'll catch the rest of your names later. Come on in and settle down; my mother's making dinner. Now, I have to get this little one"—she swung the boy around so that he was draped over both of her arms and tickled his side, earning more giggles and kicks—"back to his mother."
Branwyr wound her way through the busy room, stopping when she came to Arthur and a young woman with deep brown hip-length hair. She passed the boy to Arthur before heading towards the back of the tavern.
"Come on," Grav prompted, tugging gently on his mother's arm. "I can introduce you to a few more people."
"Alright," Morgause smiled weakly. She vaguely noticed her other children wander off into the humid tavern, but followed Grav towards Arthur and the woman.
"My lady," Grav smiled and bowed slightly to the woman.
"Welcome back," she smiled broadly, bouncing a baby in her arms. "Hello," she smiled at Morgause. "I am Guinevere, Arthur's wife."
"I am Morgause," Morgause bowed slightly, copying her son.
"My mother," Grav added, grinning.
"Welcome to Camelot," Guinevere bowed in return. "I'm sure that we will be blessed by your presence."
"I for one am very excited to meet you," a new voice said from beside Morgause. She looked up into a pair of kind blue eyes, set to either side of a snubbed nose in a round face sprinkled liberally with dark freckles, and topped off with wild, sand-colored curls. "I'm Bedivere. I'm the chief healer here in Camelot. Gawain and Grav had told me that you were a healer as well; I'd love to learn about your methods."
Morgause broke out in the first really genuine smile she'd had all evening. "I would love to share them with you, and learn some of yours as well!"
"I look forward to it," Bedivere grinned, then nodded to Grav and stepped away.
"Come on," Grav tugged on Morgause's arm again. "If you'll excuse us," he nodded to Guinevere and Arthur.
"Of course," Guinevere smiled. "It was wonderful to meet you."
"You as well," Morgause smiled in return.
This time, Grav led Morgause towards the back of the tavern, heading for the child-filled table that Gawain still stood by, now joined by Elyan and Branwyr.
"Aggravaine!" a boy with short, roughly-shorn dark hair grinned hugely, revealing gaps in his teeth where his left canines should have been. Several of the other teeth looked to be growing in as well, giving his smile an incredibly uneven look.
"What happened to your teeth?" Grav laughed, ruffling the boy's hair vigorously. "And what happened to your hair?"
"My teeth fell out," the boy replied, baring his teeth to show off the gaps and growing teeth. "My mother cut my hair because I didn't comb it when she told me for a really long time, and then it was too messy and I couldn't fix it.
Gawain arched an eyebrow and looked down at the boy. "And what did you learn from that experience?"
"That combing my hair really hurts, especially if I don't do it for a long time, so I should just shave my head like Bors," the boy replied.
Gawain laughed. "That isn't exactly the answer I was looking for, but I guess it's good enough."
The boy turned his attention to Morgause and offered her another toothy grin. "I'm Gilly. I'm ten."
"It's very nice to meet you, Gilly," Morgause smiled. "My name is Morgause. I am Gawain and Aggravaine's mother."
"Really?" Gilly wrinkled up his nose and looked between the three. "You don't look like them."
"They don't look like me," Morgause corrected. "But they look a lot like their father."
"Oh," Gilly nodded, then promptly turned back around and started chatting with one of the other children at the table.
"One of Bors and Vanora's," Gawain explained. "Actually, I think all of these"—he gestured at the collection of children—"belong to Bors and Vanora."
Morgause's eyebrows shot up. "That is…"
"Exactly," Gawain grinned.
"And that is the baby Bors said he was expecting to meet when he came back?" Morgause looked at the child in Gawain's arms.
"No," Gawain flushed slightly. "This one is mine, apparently."
"I never would have guessed," Grav drawled.
"Cymbeline didn't know she was pregnant when I left," Gawain explained.
"He came home to three kids," Grav said.
"This is Bella," Gawain hiked the girl up higher on his hip. "I'm not really sure who has the boys right now."
"So you can't keep track of your own children, but you've been put in charge of keeping track of Bors and Vanora's?" Grav teased, looking around the table full of children.
"So it would seem," Gawain deadpanned.
Morgause remained fixed on the baby girl trying to grab onto Gawain's long hair. She had guessed before he said that the baby was his—with how similar Bella looked to her father, it wasn't at all surprising—but she was still trying to wrap her head around the baby's existence, not to mention that there were two more!
"Would you like to hold her?" Gawain asked, noticing his mother's gaze.
"Yes," Morgause said, her voice faltering as tears sprung to her eyes. "I would very much like to hold her."
.*.*.*.*.*.
The evening passed in a blur. Morgause met Vanora, learned the names of several more of Bors's children (and promptly forgot most of them), and was introduced to Arthur's other knights, Kei, Dinadan, Daniel, and Culhwch, as well as Culhwch's wife Olwyn. She clung tightly to Bella for as long as she could, only relinquishing the girl in exchange for Lot, who she was informed was the oldest of her grandchildren.
The food was delicious, if unfamiliar. Branwyr, Olwyn, and Cymbeline helped Vanora serve everyone, before finding their own seats at the tables. Cymbeline settled down between Grav and Bedivere, across from Morgause and Gawain, letting Lionel, one of Bors's sons, sit on her lap. It wasn't until the girl sat down next to Bedivere that Morgause noticed the similarities between the two; Cymbeline's curls were chestnut to Bedivere's sand, and her eyes were a deep brown to his soft blue, but they both had the same round face, pert nose, and smattering of freckles, although Cymbeline's weren't as dark as Bedivere's.
"Is he your brother?" Morgause asked, looking between Bedivere and Cymbeline.
"Cousin," Cymbeline replied. "Our fathers were brothers."
"You look very much alike," Morgause smiled.
"We get that a lot," Bedivere laughed.
"Your sons look like you too," Morgause looked down at Lot, seated on her lap, and then over at Rhience, cradled in one of Bedivere's arms.
"According to Jorah, Bed's father, Rhience looks just like my own father," Cymbeline smiled fondly at the smallest baby. "I think, though, that he looks a lot like Gareth and Gaheris," she looked at Morgause and smiled, "and you."