Chapter 8: The Turning of the Tide

We were having a picnic on the wide, grassy meadow near Camelot where Uncle Merlin had told me he used to meet with the Great Dragon Kilgharrah. He had just gotten back from his second trip, this time to King Bayard of Mercia, with a promise of alliance, but everyone in the citadel had become so on edge in the last few weeks from the Saxon threat that Uncle Leon had taken it upon himself to attempt to convince Mother that it was a good idea to take one afternoon off and relax. He had been decidedly unsuccessful until Gaius, who I knew was worried about everyone's health under the strain, had told Mother that it was very bad for the health to stay holed up in council rooms, and that for the sake of one so young as I, at least, she should consider an afternoon out of doors. Mother capitulated at that.

The Saxons, according to Gaius when I asked him about them in Uncle Merlin's absence, had been soundly beaten the last time they had advanced on us, the time when Father died. Uncle Merlin had had a lot to do with their sound beating. They had, however, apparently not given up on their dreams of domination, though it had taken them years to gather an army formidable enough to be a threat again. I had the feeling we were more worried about how many sorcerers they had and what they could do than the numbers of their army, for we didn't have that many magic users in the ranks of our knights, and we were one of the few kingdoms who even went that far, even though the Great Purge had been officially ended everywhere for the last decade at least.

Even on this afternoon of relaxation, Mother was tense and on edge, and Merlin, Lancelot, and Leon were discussing the best order in which to approach the various kingdoms with requests for military alliance, with Percival putting in a word every now and then. Aithusa, who had joined us, was the only one completely enjoying herself; she was running around begging for tidbits of food like the oversized dog she acted like once in a while. She has an obsession with human food when she can get it.

I was on the verge of asking Uncle Merlin to take me flying on her, mostly because all the tension was wearing on me and I wanted to get away from it for half an hour, when the trees at the far end of the clearing suddenly parted and a strange dark man in chain mail stood there staring at us.

Half the knights instantly leapt to their feet and drew their swords, but I noted that none of the original Round Table knights did, even though they had been the jumpiest all day. Even Uncle Merlin was only sitting up with a wide smile spreading on his face.

But Mother! Mother leapt to her feet, her face radiant with the truest smile I'd seen since the Saxon threat began. With a cry, she raced across the clearing toward the man, utterly disregarding queenly dignity, and he broke from the trees and began running toward her. I suddenly made out what she was saying – Elyan.

Elyan! I scrambled to my feet, suddenly excited and nervous. My one real uncle, dead before I knew him, had come back.

Mother and Elyan met each other and enveloped one another in a massive hug. Even from my distance I could tell they were both smiling and crying at the same time.

The Round Table knights were on their feet now, all smiling broadly. "Elyan has come back," Uncle Merlin commented, quite unnecessarily. They began hurrying toward their comrade. Merlin put his hand on my shoulder, and we followed them.

When we reached Mother and Uncle Elyan, they were still clinging to each other's arms, saying a litany of apologies though they were smiling all over their faces and still crying.

"I can't believe you're here!" Mother breathed.

"I can't believe I'm back," he replied tenderly. "Freya said it was finally time for me to return. I couldn't wait."

He gave her a quick, final squeeze and turned to the knights. "Leon!" he exclaimed, swiftly hugging the man nearest him. He went through the round of hugs with Percival, Merlin, and Lancelot, who were all smiling giddily, before he turned to me.

"Amhar," he said cheerfully, clasping my forearm like a knight before pulling me into a quick hug. "You do our family credit."

I smiled up at him, glad to meet my only uncle by blood at last. "I'm glad of that," was all I could think to say.

"We have a picnic," Mother suggested at last.

"My first meal in years," Elyan said, grinning. He gave Mother another quick hug. "How could I pass that up?"

As we walked back toward the other picnickers, Mother and Uncle Elyan walking side by side and all the knights around us, I felt as though another missing puzzle piece had slotted into place, that something both I and Camelot had been missing all these years had come home.

The picnic became an impromptu celebration.

"We don't have time to ride to all the kingdoms," Uncle Merlin commented before a Round Table meeting. He was troubled and pacing. "If we're going to ally with all the kingdoms in time to mobilize armies, we need to move faster."

Uncle Lancelot and I were the only other ones in the room, and it was clear he was talking to Lancelot, who had been his faithful partner in all the alliance travel. "What are you suggesting?" he asked now.

Merlin stopped pacing to look at him. "You're not going to like it," he said warningly.

Lancelot gave him a firm look, and Uncle Merlin sighed and spun away to pace again. "We could fly," he suggested. "On Aithusa."

"That's a great idea!" I jumped in. "Uncle Lancelot, you don't know how wonderful it is to fly."

For a moment, Lancelot looked torn between saying no, this was a terrible idea and a certain enthusiasm. In the end, he settled for, "What kingdom do you think we could take her to that wouldn't see that as an act of war?"

Uncle Merlin's whole posture relaxed suddenly with Lancelot's acceptance, and he dropped into his seat at the table. "Nemeth," he suggested. "They've been the most open to magic; they have magic users in their armies. We need to go there next anyway."

Uncle Lancelot was smiling just a bit. "The dragon it is then," he said. "Let's hope flying is as wonderful as Amhar says it is."

"We leave at dawn?" Merlin asked. He opened his palm and let a flame flicker there; doing simple magic like this was a way he had of relaxing if he trusted those around him not to care, which mostly meant me and Uncle Lancelot, and in these tense days he was doing it far more often than I had ever known him to before.

"We leave at dawn," Lancelot said firmly. He leaned back in his chair and laughed. "On a dragon," he muttered. "I declare, Merlin, life with you around is never dull."

"You'll love it," I predicted confidently. "The ground falling away beneath you – the wind in your face – the world lying before you – there's nothing else like it."

Uncle Lancelot smiled at me, though he didn't look entirely sure that he liked my descriptions, but at that moment the doors opened and the others came in. Uncle Merlin snapped his hand shut, closing off the flame, and the magical planning session was over.

There came a quiet night when neither Mother nor Uncle Merlin had anything pressing going on, and Mother, Uncle Merlin, and I took advantage of it and ate supper together in Mother's small parlor. We often ate meals together there since it was spacious enough for a table and private. Uncle Merlin had just gotten back from his trip to Gawant, returning with a promise of alliance and much in the way of army numbers and logistics for the council to chew on, but the days since had been so busy that the three of us had hardly seen each other. We knew, too, that with the menacing threat, we'd probably not have much time to simply relax together in future, so after supper we sat quietly before the crackling fire and talked together quietly. I was exhausted, for that day Uncle Leon had driven all of us in training from those nearly knights to the newest squires harder and longer than ever before, and eventually I began to nod off. As I started drifting off, Mother and Uncle Merlin began talking to each other, and since they were talking of Father I made myself listen.

"For all your talk about Arthur being the Once and Future King, I didn't think it would happen in my lifetime," Mother said softly.

"Neither did I," Uncle Merlin said frankly. "Kilgharrah said, 'When Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will return.' I certainly didn't think it would be this soon."

"Do you really think this Saxon threat is the worst we'll ever face?" Mother asked, sounding a bit troubled.

"It could be more than that," Merlin said, haltingly. "Arthur died without fulfilling the prophecy. He was supposed to be king of Albion and bring back magic; Albion isn't formed even now. I failed to keep him safe until he could do those things; perhaps he's being sent back because of that."

"Don't blame yourself, Merlin," Mother told him, as if she'd said it a hundred times over the years but was still sincere about it. "Even Arthur told you not to do that." Then she added with a hint of a smile in her voice, "I'm almost glad he didn't accomplish those things – sometimes I'm even almost glad of the threat – if it will bring Arthur back."

Merlin hummed softly in agreement, and there was silence for a while. I was almost completely asleep when he said very quietly, "But what if Arthur rejects me when he comes back?"

I almost showed I was awake in my surprise, but given that I thought he would drop the topic if he knew I was listening, I stayed still.

"Rejects you?" Mother exclaimed, clearly as surprised as I was. "Merlin! He –"

"He was wary of magic, even if he didn't hate it outright," Uncle Merlin cut her off. "What if he comes back and doesn't like the changes magic has made to Camelot?"

"They won't be a surprise to him," Mother protested indignantly. "He's watched us like Lancelot and Elyan did."

"Yes, and he's probably seen me telling stories to Amhar and talking to you and realized just how much of a liar I was," Merlin retorted. "If he blames me for all I kept hidden . . ."

"You said he accepted you having magic by the end," Mother said gently. "He accepted that you'd kept that hidden. He won't blame you."

"He pushed me away to begin with," he replied in a pained voice. "He was dying, Gwen, and completely dependent on me. He didn't have much of a choice but to realize that I was still dedicated to him."

"He won't have forgotten that," Mother reassured him. "He won't go back on accepting you. He will have seen how much good magic has done for Camelot since it came back, and he'll accept it."

"And yet when he comes back we're facing an army whose greatest threat is their sorcerers, again," Merlin said tiredly. "Gwen, for once in his lifetime, couldn't Arthur see the beauty of magic without suspicion?"

His voice broke a little over the last sentence, and I could tell Mother had shifted to put her arm around him.

"He will," she said gently. "You've used it in the most magnificent and gentle ways since I knew you had it. He'll see that too."

Merlin was silent for a long time before he said quietly, "I've changed, though."

"Of course," Mother said distantly. "We all have."

There was no reply for some time; then into the sleepy fog in my brain Mother's voice penetrated very softly.

"There are days when I worry Arthur won't love me as much."

"Gwen," Merlin protested after a shocked moment of silence, "if he's seen anything from Avalon, he'll have seen what a wonderful queen you've been. He'll have fallen in love with you more than ever – didn't he send those very words by Lancelot?"

"I know," Mother said. "I know it's silly. But I'm afraid, Merlin. I've been grieving his loss for so long that I'm afraid he won't be able to fill it when he comes – that I've built him up so much in my head, trying not to forget anything, that the reality might be – less."

There was no response except the shifting of material that told me Merlin had probably given Mother a hug. I couldn't think of a response to that question.

It did, however, touch on my deepest fears about Father's return. Mother and Uncle Merlin weren't the only ones with perhaps irrational fears about him; I had been harboring quiet doubts deep within me almost since Uncle Lancelot said Father was coming back. The morning after overhearing this, less afraid, somehow, now that I knew I was not alone in my doubts, I went to talk to Uncle Merlin about them.

He was walking rapidly down a hallway, turning over notes on armies, when I caught up to him; these days he rarely spent time in his chambers where he had trained all his magical apprentices, done multiple magical experiments, spent countless hours with me. I would have preferred to have this conversation there, but since Uncle Merlin had begun setting up the alliances, I had scarcely seen him between his travels at all, and I would take what I could get.

"Dragon," he acknowledged me, almost absently, as I caught up to him. He hadn't called me that in some time, and for some reason my breath caught. Would Father ever have nicknamed me like that?

I had never been good at beating around the bush, so without forewarning I blurted out, "What if Father doesn't like me?"

Uncle Merlin stopped walking at once and looked up. "What do you mean?" he asked, frowning. "Your father is inordinately proud of you if he could get over his dislike of ever saying what he meant long enough to tell Lancelot to carry that message to you ten times."

His voice was teasing, but he looked troubled, and I wasn't satisfied either. "But Father has never been here," I protested. "What if he doesn't like the way I've grown up? Uncle Lancelot said there was a lot more those who were coming had to say – what if Father wishes I was different but he's waiting to say that till he comes? What if –" I swallowed hard before I could bring the words out. "What if he wishes I had never been born?"

Merlin's eyes widened; then he glanced around us at the servants hurrying along the hallways to their tasks. Putting his hand on my shoulder in the old familiar gesture, he led me along until we were in a much more deserted area of the castle – also utterly off his route to go anywhere he could be taking the papers he absently dropped to the ground before he turned to me. I swallowed again; only now that I knew my real father would be coming back soon did I notice all the fatherly things Uncle Merlin did with me, the way he had continually put me first. I didn't want to lose him even if I did gain my father back.

"Listen, Amhar," he said steadily, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking me in the eyes, "Your father would have wanted you, and not just as his heir. He told me once that he longed for a son. I used to picture him sometimes as a father, holding a little child in his arms, his eyes tender, when – when it started to become too much, always hiding in the shadows." He became lost in the memory for a moment; since he had realized Father would be coming back soon, he had become freer about remembering details of his past, not just the events relating to Father that he had always told me stories of, as if he was remembering both the good and the bad about the days when Father was here to prepare himself. The result was that sometimes I caught him in unguarded moments like this and had begun to realize just how difficult the dual life he had been forced to live had been for him.

"He would be in the light," he went on softly, remembering, "he and his family. And I would stay forever in the shadows, content if he lived and was happy."

I could hear the words he didn't add, that he had failed even at that. There were days when I felt he still lived in the shadows; he didn't often interact with anyone out of the small circle we had made a surrogate family; he rarely used his magic in front of anyone who hadn't already accepted it; and even I scarcely knew the full extent of what he had done to support Mother's reign and keep us safe over my life. Yet he had always put us first, always had time for me to tell me stories and be there for me like a father. Trying not to cry, I reached up and shook one of his arms, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"I don't want to lose you either, Uncle Merlin," I whispered. "I don't want – this – to change when Father comes back."

He stared at me, startled, for a moment, as though he hadn't expected that at all, and although I was rather old for it, I couldn't help reaching out to hug him in that moment. He hugged me back at once.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised me, his chest rumbling with his voice under my head; I could only cling tighter.

When we drew back, I felt as though a silent pact had passed between us that we would still be close. We both grinned a bit at each other; then Uncle Merlin drew a deep breath and returned to addressing my concerns.

"Arthur would never send a message to you he didn't mean every word of," he said firmly. "He is proud of you; he wouldn't want you to be different or be disappointed in you. He won't want you to change." He hesitated, then added more slowly, "If you still don't believe that, you could ask Lancelot or Elyan; they'd know better than me these days."

I could tell the pain the admission cost him, that others knew Arthur better than he could now, and I shook my head quickly. I liked Uncle Lancelot and Uncle Elyan very much, and I shared a mutual love of flying on dragons with Uncle Lancelot by now, but there wasn't anyone in the world I would talk to about my fears about my father besides Uncle Merlin.

He nodded at me. "It's natural to be nervous about this," he said after a moment, turning to look out the small window near us. "Your mother is afraid she and your father won't have the same relationship; but since they both love each other still, they'll be alright. Arthur loves you too, and both you and he will want a relationship; you'll work through it and be fine."

"And you?" I asked softly, though I did feel comforted by his assurance.

He hesitated for a very long moment before he answered; when he did, it struck me that this was the first time he had ever confided in me as he did in Mother. "I've always told you about the relationship between Arthur and me as though it were near perfect," he said softly, "but there were lies, so many lies. I kept so many things secret – I was too much of a coward to tell him. And when he could have known – he was dying, and we had a matter of hours. I don't know how it will work when – when he knows so much more. If he'll hate me for the lies. If, once he sees that I am a different person than the man he thought he knew, he'll even want to know me."

"You're not a coward!" I protested the moment he finished speaking, because cowardly was the last thing Uncle Merlin could be called. His lips twisted sardonically when I said it, though, as if he was still thinking the exact opposite.

"Arthur would disagree," he murmured.

I stared at him, stunned, for a moment, and then realizing I had no idea what he was referring to and not about to ask right then, I pressed on. "If Father was half the man you've always told me he was, he'll forgive you," I stated firmly. "You saved his life – how many times? He'd be an idiot not to realize that you're his best friend when he realizes that."

Uncle Merlin smiled just a bit and bent to pick up his papers. "You may be right," he admitted, straightening them. "I imagine we're all worrying about nothing, and when Arthur comes we'll realize how ridiculous we've been."

From the depths of my being, I hoped that was true. And when Uncle Merlin and I left our secluded hallway side by side, I felt much more hopeful and less afraid than I had before, and by Uncle Merlin's face, he did too.

"Where are you going?" I asked curiously.

"To meet with Leon and discuss the best place to meet up with Nemeth and Mercia's armies," he answered. As he often did, he caught my intent before I had to word it, and added, "You can come if you like, though it won't be very interesting."

"You forget how many boring council meetings I've suffered through," I told him.

"How could I forget?" he retorted, smiling a bit. "I had to be at every one of them too!"

It wasn't the meeting I wanted to go to, though; I was feeling very close to Uncle Merlin at the moment, and I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could before he left on another alliance trip. Whatever we might say to each other, I knew our relationship would change when Father came back, and the more I realized what he had given me, the more I wanted to relish the last of our time together.

So, side by side, we walked to Leon's quarters in the castle together.

Uncle Merlin was walking with me to my training one morning near the end of the second month since the Saxon threat began; we were discussing the precise words in the old magical language he had taught me that one would use to transform a crow into a peacock for an hour. We were very engaged in the discussion when a man's voice suddenly called out in the distance, "Merlin! Merlin – oi, Merlin!"

It was not a voice I recognized at all, and its owner was clearly getting closer and calling Merlin's name in a sort of sing-song way, as if he had been calling it for a while. I promptly put my hand on my sword hilt, but when I looked at him, Uncle Merlin had a wide, almost incredulous smile on his face.

Then a man in chain mail with long brown hair appeared at the bottom of the staircase we were on, looking up and still calling, "Merlin!"

"Gwaine!" Merlin shouted back joyfully, and fairly flew down the stairs, nearly tripping on them in his haste. Gwaine, grinning widely, came up to meet him, and they hugged each other tightly for a moment.

"You look good," Gwaine said cheerfully when they pulled apart. "Being Court Sorcerer suits you, apparently."

It was still strange for me to hear these men who had just appeared from the dead talking like they knew the details of our lives, but clearly that wasn't the first thing on Uncle Merlin's mind. "You're – okay with it?" he asked hesitantly, and I realized instantly that he was talking about his magic.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Gwaine asked, still light-hearted. "You're Merlin. You couldn't be evil if you tried. It's not as if magic changes that. Besides," he added, more seriously, "you're still my best friend, even if you're not the only one anymore."

Uncle Merlin's eyes shone bright for a moment; clearly Gwaine had realized how sensitive he was about his magic and chosen words that would put his fears to rest. He reached out and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Besides, I used to wonder," he said lightly. "You were a strange one, Merlin. No wonder, having to keep all that hidden." He glanced down at the ground and added seriously, "I wish we'd both been able to trust each other more freely and talk about it. You could have used another friend who knew."

Uncle Merlin laughed rather thickly, but he looked relieved. "Thanks, Gwaine," he said sincerely, and then, since both of them seemed ready to be done with this moment, he added lightly, "How on earth did you get this far into the palace? Someone should have stopped you."

"Oh, you know, they're just used to dead knights returning by this time," Gwaine retorted cheerily. "I'm just par for the course at the moment – which is painful, you know? I'll have to make my mark on Camelot again, though that may be difficult when most of the girls look at me like I'm a ghost."

"You're not making sense, Gwaine," Uncle Merlin replied, grinning. "Either you're par for the course or a ghost; you can't be both."

Gwaine looked ready to challenge that statement, but Uncle Merlin suddenly seemed to remember me and turned in my direction. "Amhar!" he called up, smiling at me. "This is Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot and the friendliest vagabond you'll ever meet. Gwaine, this is Amhar, Arthur's son."

We clasped hands rather awkwardly, Gwaine scanning me with his eyes. "Nice to finally see you in person," he said, smiling. "Look, this is strange. I know a lot about you, kid, and I can bet Merlin here has told you far more than he should have about me. So let's just pretend we've been good friends for the last years instead of strangely separated, all right?"

I decided in that moment as I agreed that I liked Gwaine very much.

Mother suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs; for a moment she looked stunned, before she suddenly grinned and gathered her skirts to hurry down them. "Gwaine!" she called brightly.

"Gwen!" he replied, spinning to meet her. "As lovely as the day I thought you were a lady to be impressed and you were already stolen by Arthur."

There was less hurt than there would once have been in Mother's eyes at the reference to her marriage, with the hopes for Father's return bright in her heart. She simply smiled at Gwaine and gave him a quick hug. "I'm glad you're back," she said.

"I've just been making friends with your son here," he commented. "He's a good kid, but I'm beginning to wonder how much adventure he's had growing up without me here to liven his life up a bit."

"Gwaine," Mother replied with complete, queenly seriousness, "you are not taking my son to a tavern."

Gwaine laughed, a bright, hearty laugh. "I wouldn't dare get him drunk and face your wrath, my lady," he replied. "So until he's old enough to be introduced to the delights of taverns, I shall have to find some other way to open his eyes to the world. I wish you'd have left us some bandits so we could take him on a typical patrol and have it go all south."

"Only you would find that fun, Gwaine," Uncle Merlin said rather dryly.

"Or hunting!" Gwaine exclaimed with the air of a man making a great discovery. "Has he been introduced to the delights of hunting yet? I could show him –"

"I was already subjected to Arthur's love of hunting," Merlin cut in quickly. "I'd rather his son didn't drag me into woods to unnecessarily kill animals."

"I have been flying on a dragon," I informed Gwaine, smiling broadly; I couldn't remember the last time Uncle Merlin had been so carefree. "I think that's quite adventurous."

"Right, the dragon!" Gwaine exclaimed eagerly, spinning to face Uncle Merlin. "How soon do I get to fly her?"

"I should go announce that we have another returned knight in our midst," Mother said, laughing and preparing to take her leave. "I'll leave you to try keeping Gwaine from breaking his neck, Merlin."

To avoid panic when Lancelot, well-known to be dead, had suddenly appeared in our midst, Mother had made an announcement saying that owing to strange and wonderful magic, a few knights from the past were being allowed to return. Those who were wary of magic shunned Uncle Lancelot for a while until everyone realized that he was still just a man, and that the magic that sent him back hadn't had an evil design in returning him. By the time Uncle Elyan appeared, everyone had taken it in stride, but Mother would still be wise to announce that Uncle Gwaine had arrived before anyone took it in their heads to arrest him, either for returning from the dead illegally or for usurping the garb of the knights when he wasn't known to be one.

Gwaine came with Uncle Merlin and me as we headed toward the training grounds and fell in step with Merlin.

"I'm sorry I failed and told Morgana where you were going," he said quietly, eyes downcast.

"That wasn't your fault," Merlin said quickly. "Morgana's snakes –" He paused and shook his head. Gwaine looked at him in horror.

"She did that to you?" he asked.

"Not that specifically," Uncle Merlin said quickly. "But you couldn't have resisted." When Gwaine looked unconvinced, he added, "Besides, I'm not the one you should apologize to."

"I've had years to apologize to Arthur and realize that he doesn't blame me for it," Gwaine retorted. "You were nearly as broken by it all as he was, though, so I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven then, if there was anything to forgive," Uncle Merlin said, half-smiling, and he and Gwaine clasped hands.

I understood nothing of what they were saying, except that they were referring to Father's last days and that one more person felt guilty for what had happened. I knew better than to try asking Merlin what had happened in this case, though, for he had never been willing to tell me much of that tale, and I respected the pain that kept him silent.

But the soberness of the moment didn't last long; Gwaine was too lighthearted for that. He stepped over to me and slung an arm around my shoulders.

"Gwen seems to be getting a lot of brothers lately," he said cheerfully. "So how soon do I get to be called Uncle?"

That afternoon we held a council of war, with only the Original Round Table present, expanded to include Gwaine. Caerleon, Mercia, Gawant, and Nemeth were all in alliance with us, and we were in the middle of negotiations to ally with Essetir. Uncle Merlin still had plans to make alliances with several of the other, much smaller kingdoms we were less friendly with, using the pressure of the fact that we had already formed a strong alliance against the Saxons and thus had a chance of winning. We were only a matter of days away from the end of the second month, with only one left before our time was up and war would come.

"It's not going to be an easy battle, no matter how many allies we have," Mother said quietly as we rose from the round table after the discussion came to an end.

"Then it's a good thing you've got one more superb swordsman back," Gwaine said cheerfully beside me.

Uncle Leon smiled just a bit. "No offence, Gwaine," he commented, "we're glad you're back, but some days it feels like we need Arthur to turn the tide."

"He'll be back soon too," Gwaine said carelessly, not in the least hurt. "Freya as good as told us that he was going to come back for this crisis. Not to mention, with him the only one in our corner of limbo, he'll drive Freya and the Sidhe crazy until they let him come. Though the princess may prefer being alone to having only had me for company for the last while."

Even though I knew of Gwaine's nickname for Father, it made me smile and feel a bit strange to hear it. Uncle Elyan groaned and muttered something about getting very tired of playing mediator all the time. "I don't think I want to know what you did to Arthur without me there," he said to Gwaine.

"Nope," Gwaine agreed cheerfully. "You certainly don't." He glanced around at us and suddenly became more serious; putting an arm around me and letting his other hand rest on Uncle Merlin's shoulder, he said steadily, "Don't you worry. Arthur will come back soon."

A/N: And this was why, when I first began drafting ideas for this story in my head, I decided the knights had to come back - I really wanted Gwaine to be here. I debated messing with 5x13 to keep him from dying before I got the idea of bringing all the knights back instead, which I liked much better. I'm really glad everyone who's reviewed likes that idea too! Don't get me wrong, I like the other knights a lot too; but in this group there needs to be someone who can say the most random things and yet be serious too - in other words, I really wanted Gwaine to be here.

Just as a side note, I am horribly confused as to how many countries and kings there are around Camelot; there certainly seem to be more than five. That makes this whole alliance/Albion thing more difficult than I thought it would be. If anyone has a nicely mapped out list of all these other kingdoms and kings, I'd appreciate it; otherwise, I'll just keep flying with it as best I can.

Next chapter comes out on Sunday, as I'm going to shift to updating every other day for now. It will be called (drumroll, please) "The Coming of Arthur."