When breakfast had come and gone without Gwaine making an appearance, Leon went up the stairs to the guest wing to check on him. Fira volunteered to accompany him in case Gwaine needed medical help.

Leon knocked on the door. To neither’s surprise, there was no response. The knight looked a Fira.

“I’ll go ahead in, make sure he’s decent.”

He opened the door to find Gwaine passed out beside the bed. A cloth was pressed against his head, though Leon wasn't exactly sure why.

“Come on.” Leon nodded to Fira as he returned to the door.

The warlock made her way inside and knelt by Gwaine’s unconscious body. She took his wrist, checking his pulse. Then she removed the cloth.

“Idiot!” She shook her head angrily as a nasty head wound was revealed under the brown cloth. Fortunately she had brought her medicine bag. “I've got to clean and stitch this.”

“I'll have a servant fetch water,” Leon offered.

Fira shook her head. “Hand me the moonshine over there.” She pointed to the only untouched bottle in the entire room. “It's more sanitary and it’ll sterilize this.”

“Can't you just remove infection?” Leon handed her the bottle and looked at her, puzzled.

Fira shook her head. “I can prevent infection. I can't remove it. I've had to focus my training on fighting spells, not healing.” She tore the sleeve of her dress off for a clean cloth and soaked it in the moonshine. “Let's just hope infection hasn't set in yet.”

Leon wandered around the room trying to see where he hit his head. Fira, busily cleaning the wound, startled as Gwaine opened his eyes.

“Shit,” Gwaine muttered. “Why is it so bright? And why am I in pain?” As he struggled to sit up Fira pushed him angrily back down. He glared at her.

“We hoped you could tell us,” Leon said, standing straight, arms tight across his chest. “Considering we only just found you.”

Gwaine hissed in pain as Fira began stitching the wound. He kept blinking against the light streaming through the windows of his room. Leon sighed, walking over to them and shutting the curtains.

“Once this is done,” Gwaine said, struggling his hardest to be chipper, “we should probably head out! Think, back to our old lives in a month’s time.”

“You sure you want to leave today?” Leon looked at him in surprise. “You're in no condition to ride.”

Gwaine laughed, obviously in pain, but he thanked Fira with a nod when she helped him sit up against the bed. “Of course we should leave. Don't tell me you're going soft on magic, Leon? Do you want to spend your entire life here?” He smirked. “Plus I've slept enough for one day after all.”

Fira looked from Gwaine to Leon. “You said it yourself. He’s in no condition to ride. I've done what I can for the head wound. Perhaps my spell will work, but there's no guarantee if the infection is already in there.” She turned to Gwaine for a moment before addressing the head knight. “But the alcohol’s still in his system I'm sure.”

“Objection!” Gwaine scrambled to his feet. “I’ve never felt better. Come on.”

“Gwaine you can't even look outside.” Fira, voice strained in exasperation, marched over to the curtains and threw them open.

The light fell on Gwaine’s face and he put his hands up to shield his eyes. With a few wobbly steps, the inebriated man went towards the door. Leon blocked his way.

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Sleep the drinks off, Gwaine. But don't get drunk again tonight.” Leon looked at him sternly. “We need to get home.”

“Whatever,” Gwaine barked.

He knew when he was beaten. He watched as Fira and Leon both left the room. He hadn't meant to get so drunk, or maybe he had, he couldn't remember. All he knew was he’d somehow managed to make it back in the rain to the citadel despite being piss drunk. How he got the injury escaped him. Based on the few empty bottles in his room, Gwaine realized he must've continued his drinking after the Morning Star Tavern closed.

He felt marginally better than the night before after Lorie departed for the Otherworld. His emotions numbed, Gwaine crawled under the covers of his bed and drifted off into a restless slumber once more.

Down in the breakfast room, Fira and Leon arrived with frowns across their faces. Each took their seats and tried to enjoy the story Tor told them.

“How's Gwaine?” Galahad asked Fira quietly as Tor continued on.

“Alive,” Fira said with a shrug. “In pain.”

Galahad sent her a lopsided smile. “You're angry at him?”

“Of course I am!” Fira hissed back at him as the others broke into side conversations now that Tor ended his story. “He drank far too much again, and injured himself.”

“It's how he copes.” Galahad shook his head. “That isn't going to change any time soon.”

Their attentions suddenly switched to the main conversation when Leon asked a very simple question.

“Who is returning to Camelot?”

Percival, Elyan, and Galahad all expressed various sentiments about how 'of course they were heading home’. Leon nodded and turned to the others.

“We have no other home than where Gwaine goes,” Gareth said quietly.

Gaheris agreed with him. “Camelot is now our home.”

With a nod, Leon turned to Tor and Morholt. “You would be welcome in Camelot, King Arthur already told you that.”

Tor looked and Morholt. Together they nodded, and Morholt spoke for them. “Somerset means the world to us, but there is nothing for us now. Camelot offers a new challenge.”

“Mordred?” Leon looked at the druid.

The young man sat quietly, face betraying no emotion. Finally he nodded once. “If Camelot will take me back, I will gladly offer my life to her.”

All eyes fell on Fira now. She shuffled in her seat before nodding with a smile. “Destiny has me in Camelot, so there is where I will go.”

Leon sent her a tiny smile. He turned to the whole group. “We leave tomorrow. Eat an early breakfast. We ride with the rising sun.”

And this what they did. Before the sun even began to peep over the horizon, the group assembled for a final time in the breakfast hall. Now-King Lucan thanked them, bidding them farewell and good fortune. He bestowed a sack of gold, food, and honorary patches of Somerset for them to remember the Kingdom by.

When all had eaten, the company left the Citadel once and for all. As they mounted their horses, Fira watched the sunlight begin to speckle the castle walls. Somerset would forever be a part of her. She realized this now. There was no going back. She had gained a confidence in herself and her magic she never wanted to lose.

Gwaine rode up next to her from where she sat on Aland, taking in a final sight of the Citadel. He spoke softly. “Come on.”

She sighed, turning Aland away at last and riding next to Gwaine upon Gringolet. Together the two of them caught up with the group. The Knights of Camelot wore the scarlet cloaks of their kingdom. It was time to go home.

The trip back to Camelot took about a month, as expected. Traveling through the Forest of Avon remained as dangerous as last time, with Cû Sídhe attacking them each night. But no one was seriously injured.

In Oxfordshire, they visiting King Urien once more to bring the glad tidings of the defeat of the Menace. He praised them loudly. There they picked up Sir Yvain, his son. He would spend a year in Camelot doing knightly duties for Arthur, before returning to Laudine his wife.

Yvain quickly captured the company's affections as a storyteller. He had gone on many adventures as Knight of Oxfordshire despite his youth and was known fondly as the Lion Knight for his prowess. Gwaine enjoyed having someone to swap stories with.

They crossed the Perilous Lands swiftly. Wyvern remained an issue, but nothing they couldn't handle. As the days went on, Gwaine drank less and spent more time with his brothers in particular. Finally they crossed from Essetir into Camelot, skipping Ealdor for speed rather than comfort.

The first faces they saw in Camelot belonged to friends.

“Gwaine!”

A cry went up as Gwaine, busy hunting, was spotted. He drew his sword but thought he recognized the voice. A man, tall and brown haired, fair of face, broke through the bushes on horseback. He dismounted.

“Tristan?!” Gwaine grinned. “What the hell are you doing here by yourself?”

“I'm not by myself,” Sir Tristan rolled his eyes. “Bedivere, Philip, and Lamorak are here also. Somewhere.” He stepped back from Gwaine. “God, you reek!”

“We’ve been in the wilderness, bathing in streams for the better part of a month.” Gwaine laughed as Tristan made a face.

Before long, other voices sounded behind them. Sirs Bedivere, Philip, and Lamorak led the entire company towards them. It was a merry meeting between friends. They decided to forget lunch and ride hard to reach the citadel by evening.

“Tristan go with them,” Bedivere ordered. “We can finish the patrol.”

“Bedivere's been in charge since you all left,” Tristan explained with a wink. He leapt back onto his horse. “Come on, I'm as eager to get home as you.”

“I doubt that,” Elyan joked. “I doubt that very much.”