(Untitled)

[mother_lost]

*The evening wears on, until Guinevere, Owen, and Bran are left at her table near the door. Sometimes they talk quietly.

Guinevere is sober.*

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[theravenboy]

"My lord," Bran says clearly. "My lord, I want you to meet Owen Davies, who raised me from a child. My father. Da, this is Arthur Pendragon, once king of Britain, now king of the land beyond the North Wind."

[owendavies]

Owen nods jerkily and holds out his arms for it. No musician, he looks apprehensive as he takes the instrument into his work-roughened hands. He cradles it as gently as once he cradled the infant Bran.

[theravenboy]

Bran, his face still filled with that dazzling joy, takes the hilt of Caliburn in his hands. He lifts it so that it points straight upward; the lights of two worlds are reflected on the steel crosspiece and the end of the scabbard.

[mother_lost]

*Guinevere draws in a quiet breath, and lets it out.

A tear, finally, overflows -- for what mother wouldn't find tears on her cheeks, when so much pride and joy and love fill her heart -- and she brushes it away absently.*

[most_generous]

Arthur watches the passing

(the old order changeth, yielding place to new)

in silence. Perhaps he stands a little differently now, conscious as he is of the weight no longer at his side.

From the single tear that falls upon Guinevere's cheek, his gaze turns to Will Stanton, who holds the door open like a sentinel on guard. And before Merlion can turn to relieve his young colleague from the post, the king speaks directly to Will.

'Will Stanton, Sign-Seeker,' he says. 'Will you see to the sword, when its purpose has been fulfilled?'

[sign_seeker]

Will meets the king's clear blue eyes, and then bows. The gesture is reverent, and entirely natural.

"I will, my lord."

[most_generous]

With the gift given, and all proper arrangements made, Arthur is free to turn his thoughts and his eyes toward Guinevere once more.

'My lady Guinevere.' He holds out a hand, palm upturned in a manner that is half-invitation, half-supplication. 'Will you come home?'

[theravenboy]

Bran draws close to Owen. They do not touch; at the moment, they cannot. Bran has set the king's sword, scabbard and belt across his outstretched forearms, and Owen is holding Bran's harp in both his arms, almost embracing it. But the two men stand together, silent, shoulders almost meeting, as Arthur Pendragon calls Guinevere of Britain home.

[mother_lost]

*Guinevere smiles, first at Owen and Bran, and then at Arthur.*

My lord Arthur.

*Stepping to the threshold, she lays her hand in his.*

I will.

[most_generous]

The first time he had taken her hand, it had felt small and cold and dry, a definite contrast to his own. He had been nervous then, and thus over cautious, for fear that a too-sudden move on his part would crush her fingers or bruise her soft skin.

There is no such nervousness now. And as he steps backwards, and she steps forward across the threshold, the sun is warm on his back and the air is rich with the heady scent of summer grass. They are far, far away from the cold and draughty great hall that had been the site of their first meeting -- as far away as they could possibly be, in truth.

Once she is across the threshold, out of Milliways and into the sunlit courtyard, he takes her hand in both of his own.

No words, not yet. Just the feel of her hand in his, and the sun shining on her dark hair.

[mother_lost]

*Guinevere covers his hand with her own, and looks through the door at her son and his father.*

Be well. Be well.

*Then, though she's aware of the sun, the scents of flowers around her, the new world, she looks back at Arthur.

The rest can wait another minute or two.*

[merrimanlyon]

Merlion's robes make barely a whisper as he moves, silent and discrete, and as Will steps back he takes hold of the door once again -- and closes it.

(to where beyond these voices there is peace)

He lets go of the doorknob, but leaves his other hand against the solid surface of the door. And then his posture changes as he leans into the door, supporting himself against it. His eyes are closed, head slightly bowed.

A moment later, he lets out a quiet breath, and turns back to face the others. His expression is solemn and thoughtful...but calm. Untroubled.

For the first time in quite a while, he looks content.

[owendavies]

Owen watches the door shut. With the sunlight of Arthur's kingdom no longer streaming into the entryway, Milliways looks suddenly dim. But when Owen turns and smiles at his son, his smile is real, full, firm, a smile such as has not been seen on his face in seventeen years.

"A good world we have, boy. And a good God over it, watching us. Time to go back to it."

[theravenboy]

Bran's answering smile blazes on his face. "Yes. Yes, it is. Good night then, Will." Quieter, he adds, "Merlion. Thank you."

Balancing the sword and belt in his right hand, Bran opens the door again with his left, and leads his father Owen Davies back home to Clwyd.

[most_generous]

He is barely aware of the door vanishing, though he dimly registers the knowledge that the hum of talk and chatter that had been Milliways is gone. Only the sound of the fountain remains, bright bubbling water that seems to chuckle with undisguised pleasure as it rises and falls.

He brings her hand to his lips -- a courtly, chaste kiss -- as he had done all those years ago.

'Will you walk with me, my lady? Your rooms are waiting for you, and there is the chapel as well.'

[mother_lost]

I -- yes, I . . .

*She breaks off, touching her cheek, finding that her tears are finally spilling over her smile.*

I beg your pardon -- yes, please. I should like to see more of this place.