Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Location: Unknown Year: 2017 C.E.

Constantine stands under the lone streetlamp lit on the street. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his trench coat pocket and smacks it against his hand a few times before he pulls one free. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he breathes out against it and the end lights up and burns.

"Constantine!"

Constantine turns and sees Sara, Ray, and Mick walking toward him. "'Bout time you lot got here." He pulls a homing device from his pocket. "I've been pressing this damn thing for the last hour. 's not exactly summertime in the Sahara here, you know."

Sara huffs, her breath exhaling like smoke. "Well, we're here, what's the big rush?"

Constantine inhales and then exhales actual smoke. "Someone wants to talk to you, even asked for the 'Legends,' by name."

Ray and Sara stiffen, trying to hide their surprise. Mick simply holds out a hand. "Spare a smoke, Englishman?"

As Constantine fishes out another cigarette from his pocket, Sara spreads herself into a fighting stance and crosses her arms over her chest. "How can anyone know what we're doing?" Sara asks.

"I mean," says Ray, tossing his head to one side. "WE barely know what we're doing."

Constantine holds out the cigarette to Mick, the white end already lit. "Madame Xanadu: She sees things. She said that she had some information for you."

Sara rolls her eyes, uncrosses her arms and stuffs her hands in her pockets. "Well, last time you told us that, you took us on a goose chase. Why should we believe you now?"

Constantine takes a drag of the cigarette, burning away all the white paper until he's only left with the butt. He drops it on the ground and snuffs it underneath his shoe. "She said something about you having a spear, and she knows where you can get more information."

"How does she know about the Spear?" Ray asks his mouth falling agape.

Sara, too, does not contain her shock, wide eyes studying Constantine, her body tensing again.

Mick's the only one who leaves himself unguarded. "Let me guess," he says, watching his own cigarette burn down to the end. "She sees things?"

"Indeed she does, my Irish friend," says Constantine with a bright grin.

"Fine," says Sara, her green eyes blazing. "Where is this Madame Xanadu?"

Constantine jerks a thumb over his shoulder and in an instant, the lights above a shop sign cut on. The sign is ancient, paint peeling, wood warmed, and reads in a curling script, "Madame Xanadu: Magic, Potions, Divination."

"Seems... cheerful," says Ray as they study the shop.

"About as cheerful as a faerie mound," says Mick, tossing down his cigarette, stamping it out before it burns his fingers.

Sara only shakes her head and stalks forward, the men following after her. The door to the shop is unlocked, and a bell chimes above them as they enter. The boards squeak under their feet as they enter the dark shop.

"Madame Xanadu!" Constantine calls out. "Are you here, Madame?"

"In the back, John," speaks a low, quiet voice.

"Mind if I light some candles?" Constantine asks, not waiting for permission before he takes a few white candles from behind the shop counter and lights them up with a snap of his fingers.

"Be my guest. You know I don't think much of light."

Constantine hands them each a thick white candle, before he leads the way into the back of the shop, Mick behind him, then Sara, then Ray. At a round table in the back room sits a woman wearing dark glasses, a white cane draped over her lap. She has hair of pure white, and her skin is quite wrinkled and even dotted with spots of age in places. Nonetheless, she has her hair neatly pulled back, a scarf woven into it, and her skirt and blouse are perfectly pressed and flatter her form. She lays out tarot cards in front of her, tracing the raised images. "What do you see, John?" asks the woman.

"The six of wands, reversed," says Constantine as he steps behind her to look at the cards from her perspective. "The three of swords, reversed, and Judgement upright."

The woman chuckles. "I wonder who is who?"

"Are you Madame Xanadu?" Sara asks, attempting to look the woman in the eye.

Madame Xanadu nods, but does not meet Sara's eye. "I have seen you through time and space — your legends. You've found the Spear. But you don't know how to assemble it."

Ray, Sara and Mick share a look. "Do you know how to assemble it?" Ray asks.

Madame Xanadu shakes her head. "The last person who made it whole has long since left this plane."

Mick snorts, "Yeah, well, time ain't exactly an object for us, lady. Who is it?"

"The great magician, Merlin," says Madame Xanadu. She presses her hands flat on the table for a moment, as she breathes harshly for a moment. The moment passes. She sags a little against the table and breathes deeply. "You must try for 510; that is where it is best to find Merlin."

"510?" Ray asks. "But... that's right before the Saxons invade. It's at the end of King Arthur's reign."

"And it is after Merlin took the Spear apart for the first time," says Madame Xanadu. She waves a finger at them. "Bad enough the pieces should exist twice over — but two completed Spears? It would be a great undoing. 510 is when you must go. You can take my advice or not. It is up to you what you do from here, but I have nothing further to say."

Constantine jerks his head back toward the door at Madame Xanadu's dismissal. "Thank you, Madame," he says. "We'll take our leave then."

The four of them file out of the shop, candles still in hand, back onto the street.

"Sara?" says Ray, his brow furrowed.

"Yeah?" says Sara.

"You know how sometimes when we walk into a situation you'll instantly say it's a trap?" Ray asks.

"Yeah?" says Sara, now drawing her own brow in with a frown.

"That's what this feels like to me, right now," says Ray.

Sara huffs and then nods. "That's what it feels like to me, too."

"We need to put the Spear back together again, don't we?" says Mick, eyes narrowing in on them. "To stop the dorks of darkness from even starting out on their stupid quest to begin with?"

Sara huffs again. "Yeah, we do. And it's the only lead we've got."

"Well, I suggest you show up a little sooner for Merlin," says Constantine, pulling another cigarette from his pocket. Around the stick he says, "Before he gets turned into a tree. Meantime, I've got to be off."

They watch for a moment as Constantine walks into the fog. Sara frowns, at the image of his back. "Merlin gets turned into a tree?"

"Yeah," says Ray. "He makes his apprentice mad enough and she just turns him —" He inflates his cheeks and let them out in a “kaboom” sound effect.

"Well, then, Constantine's right," says Sara. "We'd better hurry."

They walk off into the night, back to the Waverider.

Opening Sequence

Mick, narrating, "All of time and space and I get stuck with this bunch of losers. We've found the pieces of the Spear and now we're racing to get them together before the Legion of Stupid can catch up to us. We may not be heroes, but we're the best you've got, so you might as well call us Legends."

Location: North England Year: 510 C.E.

The crew comes together on the bridge fixing the last bits of their clothes.

Ray fiddles with a string on his sleeve. "Are we sure we should be reusing the clothes from when we were Vikings?"

"It's around the same time right?" asks Jax with a shrug. "Fashion can't have changed much from 510 to when we met the Vikings."

"Okay." Sara strides into the bridge with Rip at her side. "Gideon's done a scan of the area, and Camelot appears to be about a two mile walk west of us. This has to be quick. If we're there too long, the Legion locks onto us and we need to get the Spear put together before they can do that."

"These appear to be dark times," says Rip when Sara is finished, "so our goal will be to appear as least threatening as possible." He scans over the group before he spies Mick wearing his operatic Viking helmet. Pointing, says Rip, "Mr. Rory, maybe lose the helmet."

Mick rumbles. "I like it."

"I understand, it just is a little out of place," says Rip.

Mick grumbles but leaves his helmet on one of the deck chairs.

The crew disembarks swiftly and begins to wander through the woods toward a westerly direction.

"I can't believe we get to meet King Arthur," says Ray with a giant grin. "And Galahad and Gawaine and Bors and I wonder if Lancelot will still be there?"

Amaya smiles at Ray and looks at him as they walk. "You know a great deal about these people, it seems."

"I love the legend of King Arthur and his knights," says Ray. He grins fondly as his look grows a little distant. "I was alone a lot as a kid, you know? And so I read stories to entertain myself, and well, King Arthur was always my favorite — stories of doing good, that right makes right, not just being the strongest. It was something to aspire to."

Mick comes up alongside him and claps Ray on the shoulder. "Sounds just like you, Haircut."

Ray beams at him. "D'aww, thanks, Mick!"

Sara stops and holds up a hand. Everyone stops behind her.

"Something wrong, Miss Lance?" Martin asks.

"Thought I heard something," says Sara, making a swirling motion with her raised hand.

The team observes all around themselves, and slowly all of them realize the woods are deathly quiet.

After a moment, Sara says, "Keep moving for now. Hopefully we can find shelter in Camelot.”

Everyone nods and they move forward. Before they can go another fifty feet, knights wearing leather armor under their decorated tunics, swords drawn, step out from behind the trees. The team, as one, stiffens and goes into fighting stances. Ray, Mick, and Rip all draw their swords as well, as Jax inches closer to Martin, the two of them ready to take hands in an instant.

"Who are you that travel to Camelot in Saxon dress?" asks an austere, middle aged man with a white tunic that has four red, diagonal stripes across it.

"We are refugees," says Rip, speaking up after Sara glances at him. "We were stolen by the Saxons and have only recently escaped. We were making our way to Camelot to seek sanctuary there. You are Sir Lancelot, are you not?"

Lancelot studies him for a moment, then nods, though he leaves his sword drawn. "I am. And if you know who I am, you know that no harm will come to you while you are under the care of Knights of Camelot. We can escort you there, and Merlin may be the judge of whether you mean well or ill, for he sees into the hearts of all men and women. Until then, we will ask that you relinquish your weapons to us."

Sara touches Rip's shoulder softly, imitating the touch of a lover. "That seems fair, doesn't it?"

Rip turns to her and nods. "It seems very fair, Sir Lancelot. We will agree." He sheathes his sword and unbuckles his sword belt, after he gestures to Mick and Ray to do the same. Both of them do so, slowly, offering the weapons out to the knights, who come and take them.

"Our thanks," says Sir Lancelot, nodding to them. "Sir Jason, come forward with me, Sir Galahad and Ystina follow behind for any surprises."

The three knights nod to Lancelot and comply with his orders. The group — now larger — continues the walk westward toward Camelot.

Ystina, or so Lancelot has called her, falls in beside Sara and Amaya, and takes the rear of the group.

Sara studies her for a moment. "I didn't know there were women knights in Camelot."

Ystina looks up at them, her expression between perplexed and smiling. "There are a few — the Queen, Sir Safir, and Sir Elyan.”

“You’re a bunch of regular Eowyns,” says Ray, leaning over to join their conversation.

Ystina scrunches up her nose. “I don’t know what that means. Though, I am still a squire, not yet a knight. I hope, soon, my mettle will prove true enough for the king to anoint me to his order on my own merit."

“Is there any reason he wouldn’t?” asks Sara.

“Well, he’s always more difficult on members of his own house. Gawaine, his nephew, strove for knighthood longer than anyone I know. I’m hoping as the king’s ward things won’t take as long, since there’s no blood between us.”

"We wish you luck, then," says Amaya, offering out a smile.

Jax, meanwhile, who falls in step next to Sir Jason can't keep his eyes off of the man.

Martin tugs on his sleeve. "It's rude to stare, Jefferson, even for someone as handsome as Sir Jason."

"Grey!" Jax hisses at his mentor as he feels his face grow hot.

Jason and Lancelot laugh — not so as to embarrass Jax, but as if they are hearing a well beloved joke. "Don't let your father embarrass you, young Jefferson — aside from Squire Ystina, everyone in all Camelot, and maybe even England, finds Jason Blood the most handsome man they have ever met. Well, second to me, of course."

Everyone chuckles at Lancelot's joke as Jason playfully punches him in the arm.

"It's not that," says Jax, still protesting. He glares slightly at Martin, but Martin only beams back at him.

"So, you don't find me handsome?" Sir Jason asks, falling into step next to Jax with a wide grin.

"I mean, you are," says Jax, feeling his face grow even hotter. "But, have we met before? I swear I've seen you somewhere."

Jason shrugs. "In addition to being nearly as handsome, I am nearly as well traveled as Sir Lancelot and have served nearly as long under our king. Perhaps you saw me on the battlefield as you made your way here?"

"Maybe," says Jax with a nod, letting the idea drop from the conversation. Still, as they walk, Jax can't stop himself from glancing up at Jason Blood.

As they crest the hill, their guides go ahead of them while all of the Legends stop and stare for a moment at the sprawling citadel that stands about a mile in the distance.

“Camelot!” says Ray, cheerfully.

“Camelot,” says Jax.

“Camelot,” says Sara.

“It’s only a model,” Mick murmurs, almost so soft that the rest cannot hear.

Everyone still bursts out laughing.

Location: Camelot Year: 510 C.E.

The walk to Camelot takes no more than another twenty minutes, even as they have to climb a hill to reach the great citadel. Sentinels high on the castle walls spot them and begin to shout orders to open the gates — as they reach the gates, though, Lancelot holds up a hand to stop them. Ystina, Galahad, and Jason pass before them, and as they cross the threshold of the gate, the air seems to ripple — almost like they pass through water.

Lancelot grins at their wonder-filled expressions and says, "These are Camelot's real gates. Now, I, Lancelot, right hand of the king and gatekeeper of Camelot bid you welcome. Come, cross over."

Sara walks forward first, reaching out a hand and pressing it through before allowing her whole body to step through. Mick follows after her and then the rest of the team, nearly in tandem. Lancelot comes through last, calling for the sentinels to lower the gates. "Come," he says gesturing. "We must take you to Merlin. Though, he will almost certainly be with the king — make of that what you will."

As they walk behind Lancelot into the castle and through the winding halls, Amaya mutters to Sara, "I've just had a thought. What if Merlin refuses to help us, and thinks we’re the bad guys?"

"Then we bust out of here," says Sara, looking straight ahead. "And then we find another way to put the Spear together."

"Right," says Amaya softly. "Sara, these may just be my own doubts speaking, but what if we don't find another way. Sometimes, there isn't one."

Now, Sara turns to her. She does not miss a step, but instead takes Amaya’s hand with a soft squeeze. "We will find a way, Amaya."

"If you say so, Captain," says Amaya, with a nod, squeezing her hand in return.

After some twists and turns within the castle, they at last come to a large hall with a large, round table in the center. The table looks like it can seat more than fifty, and somewhere near the middle of the hall sits a man in a blue tunic with a simple crown around his head. Grey streaks through his trimmed, brown hair, and freckles dot his ruddy skin from many years in the sun, but a smile colors his face more so than the freckles as he speaks. Next to him sits another man of middle age, black curls also streaked with grey, a green tunic and cloak complementing his warm, brown skin and vibrant brown eyes. A staff rests on the lap of the second man, and he looks up as Lancelot approaches. The two of them look over the group with perplexed eyes, but the man in green's eyes sparkle almost with mischief.

Lancelot bows before the man in blue, prompting the others to do the same. "Sire," he says. "I come with some people who say they are refugees of the Saxons. They have given up themselves and their weapons willingly, but I bring them before you and Master Merlin for true judgement."

"Thank you, Lancelot," says Arthur warmly; he turns back to the man in green. "Merlin."

Merlin smiles, full of warmth as well. But instead of looking them over more closely, he turns to a young woman next to a window. "Apprentice, come, tell me what you see."

The young woman, blonde hair neatly bound against her head and woven through with a scarf, steps forward and looks them over one at a time. "They're not Saxon," she says after a moment, looking to Merlin.

Merlin nods in return and says, "And what else?"

The young woman returns her attention to them and nibbles her lip as she does. "They are not English — or Scottish, from Cornwall, or Wales. They've... traveled..." The young woman squeezes her eyes shut, her face drawing inward in pain. "Oh, I see so much."

"Allow yourself to make sense of it, Nimue," says Merlin, gently. He stands, walking behind her and places his hands on her shoulders. "Take each image one at a time. They are yours to control, they do not control you."

"A ship with no mast flying through the sky," says Nimue, her eyes still closed. "A strange green sky all around them. They've come so far, and there is so much blood. So much pain — fire and ice."

"Focus on only one, Nimue," Merlin says, pressing his hands down on her shoulders to ground her.

"Which one? Which one?"

"Which is the biggest?"

"The green sky."

"Why is it green?" Merlin asks, all but whispering in her ear.

"It's not a sky." Nimue begins to breathe hard, almost like she is hyperventilating. "Not a sky, not a sky, but time." She gasps, opening her eyes, and nearly pitches forward. Merlin catches her, pulling her back. Nimue takes several deep breaths to regain her composure. She looks to Merlin and then back to the team. "You haven't traveled by land or sea, but through time itself."

"Is this so, Merlin?" Arthur asks, from where he sits.

"It is indeed," says Merlin a smile playing on his lips. "Well done, Nimue."

The knights present begin to clap for her; surely this must be a great feat. The team might have clapped too, but instead they stand stunned by her pronouncement.

Merlin simply smiles at them. "Do not worry; I know you mean us no harm. But it would seem something I worked very hard scatter to the four winds of time and space."

Arthur purses his lips. "Shall I know of this conversation, Merlin? Or is it better held away from my ears?"

"I think, perhaps, you should know, my king," says Merlin, as he focuses in on each one of the team in turn. "They have returned to Camelot the Spear of Destiny — in pieces naturally, for I did not make it easy to fasten it together again."

Sara takes a step forward, holding out her hands in supplication. "That's why we've come to you. We need to know how to put the Spear back together again. There are bad people looking to use it to mold time to their wishes."

"A great evil has already sought to do that." Merlin raises an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with her plea. "Why do you think I took it apart in the first place?"

"Well, scattering didn't work!" says Sara. "We wouldn't be here if it had."

Merlin trains his dark eyes on her. "How do I know that you are not the great evil who seeks to use the Spear for your own gain?"

Sara huffs. "Well, then, help us destroy it for good. You must have found a way to do that? If it gets destroyed, nobody can use it for anything."

Merlin considers this, his mouth drawn together in a tight line.

"The woman speaks wisdom, Merlin," says Arthur, placing a hand on his mentor's shoulder.

Merlin glances over his shoulder to Arthur, then, slowly, nods. "Yes. At the time I broke the Spear apart it was all I could do. Since then, I have found a way to destroy it. Still, it's destruction will require that the Spear be made whole again, for if only one part is lost, the Spear will find a way to make it anew. It must be cast out of existence all at once." Merlin looks them over again. Every member of the team goes stiff, feeling the hair raise on their skin as he looks into the deepest parts of the minds and souls. "Still, I am not sure if I can trust you with the means to destroy the Spear or with how to make it whole again. For you may cast its destruction out of existence, and then steal the Spear away when it is whole."

"So you won't help us and now you're just stringing us along," says Mick, glaring at him. "If you don't know how to kill it, magic man, just say so."

All eyes turn to Merlin, even those of Arthur. "Do you know how to destroy it, Merlin?"

"I believe I do," says Merlin, looking back at the King. "But I cannot be sure until I succeed. And then if I cannot, it would be very easy to steal the completed Spear away."

Arthur sighs at this. "Well, you have said they are no threat, and so for now, we will treat them as such.” Arthur opens his arms to them. “You will be guests of Camelot until we can reach resolution. For now, the hall will begin filling for supper, and so we cannot continue this conversation at present. Deliberate on a solution, and we shall do the same. Squire Ystina."

Ystina steps forward with a bow. "Sire?"

"Take the women to the queen's quarters and ask there for clothing. Lancelot, I ask that you do the same for the men — anything of yours or mine, or perhaps Galehaut for our large friend, here," says Arthur gesturing to Mick.

Mick only shrugs in reply.

Lancelot bows as well. "I'll see it done, sire."

Sara opens her mouth to object to being separated, but Arthur holds up a hand. "Only for an hour or less, my lady. Some time to let you all bathe and rest. We can hardly be seen entertaining guests in Saxon clothing. I swear to you on Excalibur, no harm shall come to you or yours while you are apart."

Sara sighs as well, imitating the king's actions of before. "Alright," she agrees. "I guess we're staying for dinner."

Location: Some miles north of Camelot Year: 510 C.E.

The Vesper lands on a grassy knoll from whence they can see Camelot a few miles away. As Eobard, Darhk, Queen Bee, and Legion!Len disembark from their ship they find a woman of dark hair and eyes standing before them, a large group of well-armed, hooded figures standing behind her.

"Well," says Eobard with a snort. "No one said there would be a welcoming committee."

"I am Morgan le Fey," says the woman, her proud posture and face undiminished. "And you have traveled across time and space seeking the Spear of Destiny. I have seen it. And I can help you get it."

Eobard looks to Damien Darhk, who is the most knowledgeable of magic. Damien steps forward with no other prompting. "We've heard tell of you, Lady Morgan, of your skill in magic, and even more so of your betrayals. You will want something in return for helping us gain the Spear."

"Indeed," says Morgan. "I want Camelot, and I believe you can help me get it."

"And how would you have us help you in this regard?" Darhk asks, as his eyes narrow.

Morgan tilts her head to one side and smiles. "I require little from you, for I already have an army and even informants inside the castle. What I require is Arthur's scabbard."

Legion!Len rolls his eyes at this. "And here I thought Excalibur is what most people want."

Eobard resists the urge to kick him and instead settles on shooting Snart a glare.

"It is true, Excalibur holds great power," says Morgan turning a fearsome grin in Snart's direction. "But it is little known that as long as he wears the scabbard, Arthur cannot die. The scabbard heals him and prolongs his life, making it infinitely more valuable than the most powerful of weapons. I see in your heart you are a thief. Will you rise to the challenge and bring me the scabbard?”

“Challenge isn’t the word I would use,” says Legion!Len. He keeps his eyes on Morgan for a moment before he turns back to Eobard. “You’re running this whole con. What do you say?”

Eobard grins at Legion!Len, pleased the man has finally learned to defer to him. He assesses the situation before him. Likely, Damien is a match for her magic, and his speed can avoid anything Damien cannot conquer. Bee can enchant any of their soldiers, and Legion!Len can play loose cannon with his little cold gun if it comes to a fire fight. And Eobard does have to admit — he is a truly wonderful thief. “Very well, we accept. I’m sure Snart can sneak into Camelot and steal whatever you require, Lady Morgan.”

“Not alone,” says Morgan, as she waves her hand. One of her men steps forward. “The castle is guarded by a set of powerful magic boundaries. You must be invited in by someone who has been made a gatekeeper. While they are inviting in many refugees, each one must pass before Merlin. My man will ensure that you need not encounter the old wizard as you go about your duty.

The man bows to her, drawing back his hood to kiss Morgan’s hand. Jason Blood looks up at her, adoration pooling in his eyes. “It is an honor to serve you, my lady.”

Chapter Text

Location: The Queen’s Boudoir

Amaya stares at herself in the copper mirror as a lady of the court helps her tie off and pin a dress in the right places. The overdress is made of a sunny saffron, which the lady of the court says complements her complexion very well. Amaya agrees, but the dress also reminds her of her JSA Uniform.

“What are you thinking about?” Sara asks as she finishes off her own dress, a seafoam green color that brings out her eyes.

“Where I’ve been.” Amaya touches her totem. She wishes there were any animal that could banish the sudden out-of-place feeling and anxiety that bubbles up from her stomach. “Do you think I’ve done the right thing, Sara? Coming on this journey I mean?”

“I think out of all the things you could have done, you followed your best judgment,” Sara says with a small shrug. “Sometimes, that’s all we can do, Amaya.”

“I worry that I’ve somehow made things worse.” Amaya stares back at her reflection and shakes her head. “I have this feeling that something I’ve done needs to be set right.”

Sara leans over and places a hand on Amaya’s shoulder. “Hey, whatever you feel like you need to do, we’ll be right there to support you, you know that right? We’re a team — and that means we stick together.”

“Thank you,” says Amaya as she leans over to hug Sara.

They pull apart as a blonde woman enters the room, pulling at the buckles on her leather armor. “Come and help, please!”

“Is everything alright, your Majesty?” Ystina asks, rising from where she had sat previously, sharpening a dagger. She and another one of the ladies of the court begin to help with the buckles on the leather armor.

“Aside from being dreadfully late, everything is perfectly well,” says the woman, who Amaya realizes is the queen. “Galehaut, Kay, and I ran into some of our own men looting a village. That had to be set to rights as soon as possible, and, well, we were very overdue.” When the queen stands before them in a simple set of trousers and a linen shirt she at last looks up and spies the two of them. “Oh! You must be our guests. Lancelot told me of you on our way into the gates. As queen I bid you welcome here.”

Sara curtsies and Amaya mimics her movement. “Thank you, Queen Gwenhwyfar,” says Sara. “You’re very generous with your hospitality.” Sara proceeds to smile in a way that Amaya has learned means she is greatly attracted to someone.

Amaya resists rolling her eyes.

Location: The Men’s Dormitories

Ray helps Mick get dressed in the clothes they were given — which more resemble Roman clothes, he finds, than Viking ones — because he fears for the fingers of the pages who have been assigned to them.

“The hell’s wrong with clothes that go over your head or up your legs?” Mick asks, as he pulls away from even Ray. Ray counts his blessings that he got the garments looking mostly right.

“The industrial revolution hasn’t been started yet,” says Rip, with a smirk in Mick’s direction.

Mick flips him off.

“I don’t know that gesture,” says Galahad as he fixes his cloak. “But I don’t imagine it to be a nice one. I’ll have to remember for when Gawaine decides to be a pig-headed brat again.”

“Gawaine — he’s one of the king’s nephews, right?” asks Ray.

“Yes, likely going to be high king himself one day — certainly has the mettle for it.” Galahad wrinkles his nose. “Goes to his head sometimes.”

“And you, Galahad,” says a tall, broad man as he enters the room with Lancelot behind him, “should not be one to complain about things going to someone’s head. Or need I remind you of your adventures with Percival that nearly got you killed?”

“No, Father, you needn’t remind me of that.” Galahad smiles warmly at this new man, who the pages are quick to attend to. “Guests, this is my second Father, Lord Galehaut of the Distant Islands. Father, these are the esteemed guests of the king and of Merlin.”

“So I’ve heard.” Galehaut makes no expression to them, merely assessing each one in turn. At last he nods at Mick. “I see we had to loan you some of my own clothes, sir.”

Mick nods back a simple, “thanks,” escaping him.

“You’re most welcome,” says Galehaut, a small smile coming to his face. He too, brushes the pages away and finishes assembling his garments with only the help of Lancelot. “My husband tells me that you travel through time.”

“Husband?” several of them ask in chorus, only to duck their heads or avert their eyes in embarrassment.

“Yes,” says Lancelot, kissing Galehaut’s cheek. “We’ve been married nearly twenty years — nearly as long as the king and queen, and nearly as long as Galahad’s been alive.”

“Are such unions strange when you come from?” asks Galehaut, raising an eyebrow. It was a dare if Ray had ever heard one.

“For a long time there were...laws against such unions,” says Martin, slowly, looking toward Rip for some guidance. Rip only waves a hand to continue. “But there were also laws against two people of different ethnicities marrying. A great many things that are now, in our time, recognized as unjust.”

“Strange to think that by going forward in time, laws become backwards and uncivilized,” says Galehaut.

“It’s strange to us, too, your Lordship,” says Jax. “We’ve visited times before now when no one thought twice of the color of my skin. We come here, and I see black men and women sitting at King Arthur’s round table! But when my country was founded, my ancestors were taken from their homelands as slaves.”

“Backwards indeed,” says Galahad with a frown. “Indenture may still be allowed for the repayment of a debt, but outright slavery is outlawed under our king. You should stay with us Jax! You would make a fine knight given some training.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, but no thanks,” says Jax, with a small shrug. “Grey and I can’t be apart for long, and we have family to go back to.”

“And one always ought to be close to their family,” says Lancelot as he leans over and kisses Galehaut on the mouth. When he finishes helping his husband dress, he leans over and ruffles Galahad’s hair, only for Galahad to brush his hand away. “Shall we?” asks Lancelot, linking arms with Galehaut and leading them from the room. Galahad tugs Jax up from his seat and the others follow in suit.

----

Outside of the castle, Jason Blood approaches with Legion!Len at his side, dressed as a monk. “Never played this part before,” Legion!Len mutters.

As earlier, the guards call out above them as Jason goes toward the gate. Since it is dark now, he must call up his name. When the portcullis lifts, a brawny man with red hair stands before them.

“Late hour, isn’t it, Jason?”

“Had to clear my head,” says Jason with a smile. “Found the wayward Father here on my way back. Would you grant him passage, please, Kay?”

Kay nods with a grin. “Such a bleeding heart you have, lately, Jason Blood. Alright, you in first. Father, wait there a moment.”

Kay and Jason switch places.

Kay clears his voice and says, “I, Kay, seneschal and brother of the king and gatekeeper of Camelot bid you welcome. Come, cross over.” He waves a hand before him so that Leonard does so, and then follows after him. “I’ll show you to the kitchens, Father. Jason, you had best change and get to the feast.”

Jason salutes Kay. “Many thanks.”

Legion!Len follows after Kay as he parts ways with Jason.

Location: The Great Hall, where sits the Round Table

"What's our play, Sara?" Jax asks in a low voice as they reunite.

"Stay low for now," says Sara, as she takes Rip's arm when he offers it to her. "Eat, drink, be merry — make friends. Rip and I will work on Merlin; get him to make up his mind a little faster."

"Lady Sara!" Gwenhwyfar calls out to her, with a small wave. She and King Arthur sit next to one another, though Merlin is nowhere in sight.

Sara and Rip both walk toward her, smiles in place, and are seated to Gwenhwyfar's right. Jax and Martin go forward together, seeking out seats next to Galahad and Ystina at Jax's suggestion. Mick offers his arm out to Amaya, in an imitation of Rip's gesture to Sara, and Amaya smiles, accepting his arm. Ray follows after them, a smile also crossing over his features. At a prompt from Sir Lancelot, they sit next to him and Galehaut.

Servers pour into the halls, bringing food and setting it onto every available surface of the table. Others bring pitchers of wine and ale that flows freely into goblets. Mick downs his in the first go.

"Mick!" Amaya hisses at him, trying to contain the smile on her face.

"'Eat, drink, and be merry,' she said," says Mick, as the awed page stands by to refill his cup.

"What an excellent turn of phrase," says Galehaut. "Are you a poet, sir?"

All three of them snort with laughter. "No," says Mick in a low voice. "Words and I don't get along."

"What do you get along with, Master Mick?" says Lancelot, as he serves himself roasted deer.

"Fire," says Mick. "And food."

"And he's a good mechanic," says Ray, patting Mick's shoulder. Mick glances at him from the corner of his eye, so Ray lets his hand fall away. "And a good teammate. He's had our backs a lot, when we really needed it."

"And what are you good at Raymond?" asks Galehaut. "Aside from being this man's friend."

Amaya outright groans, though she tries to cover it. Pointing over at a band of minstrels, she says, "Mick, come and dance with me."

"I don't dance," says Mick, as he picks up a leg of meat and takes a large bite out of it. He stands, taking the leg with him. "But I'll watch."

Lancelot laughs at this apparent compromise and stands. He unbuckles his sword belt and drapes it over the back of the chair. "I'll dance with you, Lady Amaya." He bends over, kissing Galehaut, before stepping over to Amaya and taking her hand. Mick follows after, finding a place across the room where the servers are coming in and out, but still out of the way enough not to block them.

"Sorry about that," says Ray, with a shrug. "I think I've been annoying them lately."

Galehaut's eyes fix across the table to where Gwenhwyfar sits chatting to Sara. Ray follows Galehaut's stare, and then Gwenhwyfar's as the queen's eyes travel upon Lancelot's form.

"Oh," says Ray.

Galehaut's eyes flick to him in an instant, a hawk fixing on its prey. "I'll thank you not to insinuate anything, sir."

"Oh, I wasn't." Ray stares down at his plate, to which he has added a single slice of pie. He had thought it might be full of berries, but it was full of meat.

After a moment, Galehaut says, "You're from the future. You knew who Merlin was — and Arthur, too. Do you know how this thing ends between us?"

Ray looks up at Galehaut, the man's golden eyes looking sad and wet. He shakes his head — it's mostly the truth because he's only heard a little about Galehaut before today. Most books just said that Galehaut had admired Lancelot, like a best friend or something, but none had hinted the two might have been married and brought up a son together. "Is... is that okay?" he asks, nodding to where Gwenhwyfar has taken Sara in hand, and led her over to where Amaya and Lancelot are taking a turn with some others who have joined them dancing.

"I do not..." Galehaut fades out for a moment as he turns to Ray. "I do not fault Gwenhwyfar for loving him. And I do not fault Lancelot for loving someone else. We've both had lovers before we came together and even after. But we've always been honest with one another about the people we have wanted outside of each other. And Lancelot has not told me a thing of Gwenhwyfar. I simply fear that one day he will not be honest with me — and when that day comes, my heart will break. I know this fear to be false, perhaps stirred with jealousy, and it does not make me a good husband to think such things."

"Yeah, but you can't help worrying about such things," says Ray. "I mean I think all couples worry about that kind of stuff. My fiancée, Anna, thought I was cheating on her for a little bit when she started having trouble getting a hold of me. It turns out it was a faulty SIM card." Galehaut wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar term. "Right, not the point. The point is, maybe you should just tell Lancelot you're afraid. He's a good guy, I'm sure he'll understand."

Galehaut smiles at Ray and nods. "You are very wise, Raymond. I wonder then, what could trouble such a man of wisdom?"

Ray gives a little shrug. "Well, I suppose it's always easier to observe other people's problems and figure them out than work on your own."

"Then let me be your ears, for a moment, and return the favor given me," says Galehaut, leaning forward a little.

"Okay." Ray takes a deep breath. "I have a sort of weapon — it's like to me what Excalibur is to King Arthur, I guess you could say. And for a while it was destroyed. I started to feel..." Ray chuckles, darkly. "Well, I still feel like I'm not me without it. And there's a part of me that knows that I am worth more than my creation, but ..."

"But the other part of you doubts," says Galehaut, finishing the thought for him.

"Yeah," says Ray with a nod. He feels himself pulled closer to Galehaut. "And the doubts —"

"Ring louder than the most thunderous truths," says Galehaut.

Ray leans back in his chair. "Yeah. That's it. And I guess I just feel so indecisive about who I am, and what I'm meant to be doing. I haven't been able to figure it out yet. I guess that's why I started reading the Legends of King Arthur and his Knights."

"Stories are not all they are made out to be," says Galehaut with a fond smile.

"I know that," says Ray waving his hands around. "But still, they're inspiring — the stories of chivalry, right makes right, of the steadfast nobility."

"Do you know what nobility is, Raymond?" asks Galehaut. "It is the ability to endure, even when the struggle threatens to break you apart. So, I challenge you, my friend, to endure, despite all of the odds and the roaring doubts." Galehaut raises his glass, and at his prompting, so does Ray. They toast and drink down the ale in their cups.

Ray grins at Galehaut, his heart feeling a little lighter. "Would you like to dance, Lord Galehaut?"

Galehaut laughs so loudly, he draws the attention of others sitting nearby. He stands removing his sword belt and hanging it on the back of his chair. "I would greatly enjoy a dance with you, Raymond."

Ray’s grin widens as Galehaut offers out a hand. He takes hold, and together they walk onto the dance floor.

----

Mick watches the festivities as they get into full swing. His team dances with each other and other people from the past. He wonders for a moment if he should have accepted Amaya's invitation to dance with her.

"You should have," says a little voice in his ear.

Mick looks over his left shoulder to see the image of Oculus!Len as Mick remembers him. "She's a nice girl, you should have danced with her," says Oculus!Len.

Mick only shakes his head.

"You can't blame yourself forever, Mick," says Oculus!Len.

"I don't get nice things, Snart," says Mick.

"No, not really your scene, is it, Mick?"

Mick feels like the blood just froze in his veins, and he turns over his right shoulder to see Legion!Len standing before him, wearing some kind of thick cloak. Mick reaches out and takes the fabric between his fingers, rubbing the rough texture between his fingers. "You're real," he whispers.

"Real as can be, Mick," says Legion!Len with a grin as he tosses the cloak aside to reveal a well-fitted black outfit. “Is it getting a little hard to tell? I should hope not.”

Mick turns back to his left shoulder where Oculus!Len, still stands wearing his favorite leather jacket. “No, not so much.”

Legion!Len waves a finger at him. "But you Mick, you seem a little fake. Almost like, you're trying too hard. So, tell me, partner, what's the play?"

"There's no con, Snart," Mick says looking between the two of them for a moment

"There's ALWAYS a con, Mick," Legion!Len says, yanking Mick around to face him, his voice like the hiss of a snake. "Last time we met you were eager to switch sides, but now you’re hesitating? You can't expect me to believe that you are actually one of them now — the good guys."

"You should," says Mick. "You're the one that dragged me here to begin with."

"That's right, buddy," says the Oculus!Len. "And you've changed, you really have."

Legion!Len just clicks his tongue. He takes the cold gun from a holster on his leg. "Let me remind you of who you really are."

Before Mick can react, Legion!Len charges the cold gun and races out into the middle of the room, leaping onto the round table before anyone really understands what's even happening. He crosses it in three great strides, leaping off of the other end. Just as people begin to get their bearings, the others shouting, "Snart!" Legion!Len points his cold gun into the air and fires. "Everyone!" he cries. "This is a stick up!"

It would be simpler to take what he’s after, but simple isn't Snart. He vaults off the table and plucks a sword belt off of a chair — Mick watched the knights take them off when they went dancing . That one, he thinks, that is King Arthur's, the fancy sword, Excalibur.

The redheaded man from earlier races after Legion!Len, and shouts, "Draw it if you think you have the strength to wield the great Excalibur, you coward." Redhead — Blood, Mick thinks he's called — lifts his own sword to Legion!Len 's neck.

Legion!Len grins. He draws out the sword slowly, so slowly, while everyone in the room holds their breath. The knights are used to chivalry and duels. But Legion!Len is used to deception — he tosses the sword at the castle wall where it imbeds itself in the stone. "It's all yours, buddy." Legion!Len fires his gun at the ground, spreading a sheet of ice across it. He runs and slides on the ice, using the momentum to jump and propel himself through an open window.

“He’ll shatter his legs!” Ray shouts, racing to an open window.

At the same time Blood shouts, “After him!” and runs out of the hall, many of the knights on his tail.

Mick follows after, at a slower pace. Legion!Len does not do shattered legs, and he does not disappoint. Mid-air, he uses his cold gun to create an ice ramp down to the ground. It probably isn’t the world's softest landing, but Snart survives, intact, and all they can do is watch him run toward the gates and escape.

Amaya appears at Mick’s elbow taking him by the hand and trying to draw his attention. “Mick, are you okay?”

He looks the other way, where he still Oculus!Len standing there in his leather jacket. Leonard shakes his head. “You have to understand, Mick, that wasn’t me.”

Mick turns back to Amaya. “I don’t know what I am, right now,” is all he can manage to say.

Location: Morgan’s Camp

Legion!Len storms into the tent Morgan occupies in the middle of her camp. He slams the scabbard down on a table covered by a map where she has laid out her forces like chess pieces.

“Snart, do we need to have a talk about anger management?” asks Eobard, putting his hand on Snart’s shoulder.

Legion!Len shrugs him off. “She set me up.” He jabs a finger in Morgan’s direction. “Her boy was leading the charge after me. Now I can’t decide if you’re just trusting the wrong guy — or if maybe Damien was right, and you like to pick off your allies one by one until there’s no one left.”

“Lady Morgan?” Eobard asks turning his gaze to her.

Morgan sighs, dramatically. “Jason Blood has been my spy in Camelot for years. You made a spectacle of yourself, so naturally he had to be seen performing the duty Arthur has assigned to him. Besides, what does it matter, you got the scabbard, you escaped with your life. You have proven your mettle, Leonard Snart. You ought to be proud.”

Legion!Len curls his fingers into a fist, and Queen Bee appears at his side, digging her own fingers into Legion!Len tunic. “Leonard, come on, you need to cool off.”

“Funny,” says Legion!Len, but allows Bee to pull him away.

The Legion leaves the tent together.

As soon as they are out of a hearing distance, Legion!Len says, “She’s not going to get us the Spear.”

“That remains to be seen,” says Eobard. He hums, the noise almost like a vibration. “But, she has not put on an excellent first impression.”

“You think?” Darhk asks. He leans forward to the group. “I wasn’t wasting my breath when I said that Morgan le Fey likes to kill whoever she deems disposable. I might be a trained assassin, but I can’t fight an army, Eobard, and you don’t do well against magic.”

“I agree,” says Queen Bee. “And she knows more than we do. She saw us coming and knows we want the Spear. If she knows what it is, there’s no one stopping her from taking it for herself.”

Eobard rubs his chin. “Then, we need to create a contingency.”

“Oh,” says Legion!Len. He exhales all the rage which had overtaken him, and inhales again, letting the cold, British air calm him. “I think I have just the one.”

Location: The Great Hall Again

Arthur summons Merlin after Legion!Len escapes, and Sara trains her eyes on the wizard when he enters the room. Most of the mess is easily repaired — Merlin waves his staff and clears away the ice and any cracks it has formed in the stone floors and wood furnishings. Arthur pulls Excalibur from the wall, and a page brings him a new sword belt to sheath it in.

Merlin frowns at the belt. "That," he proclaims, "is quite troubling."

"I agree," says Arthur miserably as he plops down in his chair.

"'Twas only a belt, brother," says a newcomer, Sir Kay. He hands Arthur a mug of something steaming and spicy.

Arthur shakes his head and accepts the drink. "It was more than that."

"That scabbard, plain though it may have been, was capable of great magic," says Merlin. "And great healing. Arthur, she gave it to you and she's one of the only people who knew of its abilities."

"Morgan?" asks Gwenhwyfar as she takes her place at her husband's side.

"Yes," says Arthur morosely. "She created that scabbard with the Lady of the Lake when she still claimed to be my sister and not my greatest enemy. This attack surely was only the first, and what a powerful move it was." His knights look to Arthur, quiet, waiting for their king to speak again. "Morgan means to draw us into war — so soon after the Saxons would lower morale and it would not be an easy fight. Or else, since she knows her forces cannot cross the magic boundaries of the citadel, she means to starve us with siege. Either way, she has made it perfectly clear she intends to see me and mine are not safe."

Gwenhwyfar takes him by the hand and catches his eye. "She won't succeed, Arthur. We will find a way. We always do."

Arthur smiles at her, some brightness returning to his ruddy complexion. He leans over and kisses Gwenhwyfar softly on the mouth. When he pulls away he turns his attention to Sara, "You recognized this man, Lady Sara."

Sara nods, feeling a frown overtake her normally blank exterior. "He was a comrade of ours once — a friend even."

"Then you, too, have felt the sting of betrayal," says Arthur with a nod. "Merlin," he says looking to his friend and mentor. "If the enemies of our guests and Morgan are working together then we must help them so that they may help us. Our intruder's magic was beyond anything we have ever faced before and if there were others like him, I do not like them to side with Morgan in this."

Merlin nods at this. He plants his staff and rests against it. "You must understand that I could not even trust myself with the Spear made whole. To be worthy of such power... is not an easy thing."

"Then let us prove our worthiness, Merlin." Sara steps forward, training her eyes on the wizard. "I know we can do this. The Spear calls to us for a reason — maybe it is just to destroy it. But we can't let it fall into the hands of our enemy; the devastation they would wreak would be untold."

Merlin smiles at her. "You understand, Captain Lance, that if anyone were to undergo tests, it would not be you?"

Sara blinks at the prospect — she had been so ready to offer herself up for a sacrifice.

"You are perhaps a touch too steadfast," says Merlin. He pats her shoulder and steps around her, "And a little difficult for me to read, if I'm honest. Three tests, I think, for three members of your crew." He points to each of them in turn. "Amaya, Mick and..." he stops at Jax and then points to Martin as well. "The two of you are one, it would seem, so you will be tested together. Do you agree to this?"

Amaya, Jax, and Martin step forward at once, nodding all together. After a moment, Mick joins them.

"Come to my workshop tomorrow morning," says Merlin. "I will have the tests prepared then."

Arthur rises from his seat, causing everyone in the room to go to attention. "Very well, there is no sense in ending the festivities now — for there is food to be eaten and beer to be drunk. And, I think, there is honor to be given to one who has earned it. Jason Blood, come before me."

Sara watches Sir Jason as he stiffens at the mention of his name. With that same stiffness he walks across the floor from where he had been hovering in the doorway after returning from his chase. He kneels before the king. "Sire."

"Jason, you have shown me many years of faithful service, and tonight you showed unparalleled loyalty and bravery," says Arthur. "What may I grant you to show my gratitude for this demonstration?"

Jason shakes his head. "Sire, I only did my duty unto you."

"Jason," says the King. "Answer the question."

For the first time since Snart charged through the room, laughter leaps from the mouths of all present, Jason Blood included.

"Sire," says Jason when he has composed himself. "I have long admired the position of Sir Lancelot and Sir Kay as the gatekeepers of Camelot. Give unto me this office? I will show it all the honor and diligence it deserves."

"Then it is yours," says Arthur with a smile. He gestures to Merlin who holds out a silver key on a chain. "The key is only a symbol. You are the key that keeps us locked safely within our home, Sir Jason." Arthur drapes the key around Jason's neck and a glow encompasses him. “Arise, Sir Jason, gatekeeper of Camelot.”

The glow is the only thing to indicate a change. As everyone claps, Sara gets a sinking feeling in her stomach, as if something has just gone horribly wrong.

----

Sara is not the only one, for as Ystina looks on and claps with the rest, a frown mars her face. She feels her whole body go stiff as she watches the ceremony of the key. Galahad cheers with the crowd -- why wouldn't he? They have both known Sir Jason since infancy. Everyone except Ystina seems pleased to have such a man protecting their realm. As she looks around the room to see if she has a single ally, Ystina's eyes land on Sara. Sara looks more perplexed than angry, but even if she understood the magnitude of Ystina's feelings, a stranger's word would be no support against one of Camelot's oldest, dearest knights.

Sara catches Ystina's gaze. Though Ystina looks away, Sara still makes her way over to Galahad and Ystina, her crew trailing behind her. "Is something wrong, Ystina?" Sara asks.

"It's nothing, Lady Sara," says Ystina, forcing a smile.

"It doesn't look like nothing," says Sara, crossing her arms.

Amaya presses forward as Sara's right arm. "Look, is there something we did wrong? I know we're kind of new here and all."

Ystina flushes. "Oh no!" She waves a hand trying to banish their doubts. "It's nothing you've done, I assure you. My eyes just wandered with my mind. I'm sorry for staring."

When Ystina turns to escape the situation, Galahad takes her by the hand, holding her firm. "Ystina? Is there something wrong?"

"It's nothing, my love," says Ystina, looking him the eye, trying to seem less flighty.

"It doesn't sound like nothing."

Ystina looks up from Galahad to find Arthur and Gwenhwyfar standing in front of her, Kay, Merlin, Lancelot, and Galehaut with them. Ystina bows with everyone as they break apart to give more room to the newcomers, but Arthur shakes his head.

"Ystina," says Arthur, drawing close to her. He holds her face in his hands, the warmth of them spreading out to her very core. "I have raised you since you were a babe. Do you think I know not the sound of your fear? What is the matter, my girl?"

At last, Ystina allows the words to escape her. "I like not the look of Sir Jason."

A note of severity must color her voice, for no one jokes that Ystina has never liked Sir Jason's looks. Instead, their faces go hard. Arthur seems lost for words, so Gwenhwyfar steps forward. "And what reason have you to feel this way, Ystina?"

Ystina frowns, attempting not to shrug at the Queen. "Little reason, my lady, more feeling. But... as of late, I notice that Sir Jason will not remain long in Merlin's presence."

"Many people do not," says Merlin as he leans on his staff.

"But, sir, if he does not keep your company, why then does he smell of magic?" asks Ystina.

Merlin straightens at this, and all lean in, paying closer attention. "Magic, my girl?"

"It's like you or your workshop -- the smell of copper and the way the air smells after lightning strikes in the rain. It's so strong on him now, as if he's been around someone with a lot of magic."

Merlin nods to her. "Or tampering with magic. What else?"

Ystina swallows hard. "I don't know what it means, but he goes out of the gates alone."

"You think he's evil because he goes for walks?"Jax asks.

"It's not that," says Ystina, shaking her head. "But a knight of Sir Jason's experience would never be outside the walls alone. Even for something as well fought and well traveled, it is dangerous. Everyone, and I mean everyone," Ystina's eyes flick over to the king, queen, and elder knights, "goes in pairs."

"She's right," says Sir Kay with a frown. "And there is more -- tonight Jason brought a monk our gates. He said that he found the man wandering, but given the events here tonight, I am given cause to wonder."

"But that could be anything," says Lancelot, but even his face is drawn in contemplation. "Even if he asked for our attacker to be brought into the gates, he may have been deceived himself."

Ray nods. "That's true, Snart was always kind of tricky."

Arthur shakes his head. "Lancelot is right," he says. "It is not enough to convict him of anything really."

There is a pause where Ystina's breath catches in her throat and she fears she may choke on it.

Then Galahad asks, "Is it enough to warrant an investigation, sire? There is reasonable doubt that, Sir Jason may be involved, willingly or nay, in something untoward."

Ystina looks to her love and takes his hand with a tight squeeze. He squeezes her hand in return with a smile.

"I think you are right, Galahad," says Arthur, with his own gentle smile. "However, a squire cannot investigate a knight."

Ystina feels her breath catch again, and it seems like several people want to speak up at once, even the Legends, when Gwenhwyfar says, "But another knight may."

"What?" Ystina asks as she forces herself to exhale.

Lancelot breaks out in a grin and nods in agreement. "Well, I certainly think it's time."

"It is," says Arthur. He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I hate to see you so grown up, but the time has come." He pulls back and draws out Excalibur, holding the blade of the sword under his arm and offering out the handle to Gwenhwyfar. "Will you do the honors, my love?"

Gwenhwyfar accepts Excalibur, which glows faintly at her touch. "I would be delighted, my love." She turns back to Ystina, whispering, "You need to kneel, my girl."

Ystina, feeling stiff again, somehow gets to her knees.

"Will you, Ystina, ward of Arthur and Gwenhwyfar, accept the duties of the office of Knight? To uphold the peace, to serve with honor, and administer justice where there is cause?" Gwenhwyfar asks.

"I will," says Ystina, thinking it a miracle she can speak at all.

Gwenhwyfar raises Excalibur, and taps each of Ystina's shoulders with the flat of the blade. "By the power vested in me by the divine and by the righteous people of Briton, I create thee Sir Ystina, Knight of the Round Table. Arise."

Ystina rises, shaking a little. Galahad puts an arm around her waist to support her, as their small company claps at the award of her honors.

"It is well done, Ystina," says Arthur as he sheaths Excalibur. He offers her a hand up. “But, Ystina, you do understand that if you are wrong, you will have to apologize to Sir Jason publically? This may dishonor you?"

Ystina nods. The anxiety of being disbelieved eases from her stomach as she meets her King's eye. "Sire, I would rather be wrong and apologize, than have been right and done nothing."

Arthur and Gwenhwyfar both grant her a smile. "Then you may investigate," says Arthur. He holds up a hand to her. "But discreetly, Ystina. Report what you find or what you do not find to Sir Lancelot daily."

"I fear the hour grows late and the mood miserable," says Gwenhwyfar, taking Arthur by the arm. "We should all retire, since we go into the morning unawares."

Galahad and Ystina bow again and watch their majesties’ procession out of the hall. Sir Lancelot and Lord Galehaut take their time-traveling guests in hand to escort them to quarters. Ystina almost follows after them to help Lady Sara and Lady Amaya to the women's dormitories, when Galahad takes her by the hand again. She turns back to him.

"Stay with me tonight?" he asks.

"We shouldn't," says Ystina even as she draws closer to Galahad.

Galahad laces their fingers together and rests his forehead on hers. "When this is over, soon we can be married. No one will think twice of us together, Ystina. They all know I will do right by you."

The hall clear of people, Ystina leans forward and kisses him. "As do I, Galahad. And I will stay with you, this night."

Together, hand in hand, they walk forward from the hall.

Chapter Text

Location: The Men’s Dormitories

There is a little window in their dormitory room, and when Martin wakes, it reveals a dreary, grey day. He wipes his glasses on the hem of his shirt — a habit Clarissa is forever getting after him about, as it ruins the glass. Martin doesn't have a cleaning cloth at present, though, so Clarissa will have to forgive him. Martin rises, feeling joints creak and pop as they relieve pressure put there, and takes stock of everyone. Jefferson still lays asleep, which Martin already knows without looking as he can feel the phantom beat of the young man's heart. A cursory glance around the room reveals that Rip and Ray still sleep, but Mick is absent from his cot.

Martin pulls on his boots, and shrugs on a jacket (or was it called a tunic? he couldn't remember) and then a cloak.

"Grey?" Jefferson's voice emits as a sleepy croak.

"Just getting some fresh air," says Martin. "Go back to sleep, Jefferson."

Jefferson rolls over with little fanfare, closing his eyes.

Martin exits the dormitory room and finds a page in the hall. "Excuse me, did you see a tall, baldheaded man through here earlier?"

The page points down the hall. "Went to the tower. Said he wanted some air."

"Thank you," says Martin. Finding the tower is of relative ease — he simply follows the corridor to stairs and goes up. At the top there is a simple platform, perhaps twelve feet in diameter that allows one to look over the lands. Martin can see how it would be excellent for defensive and offensive maneuvers for the castle.

He also sees Mick, sitting alone against the edge of the wall. Mick's head turns to the left, and he's talking to someone. Not talking to himself, but to someone else.

"Do you still see him?" The words are out of Martin's mouth before he can think them through.

Mick looks up, his eyes dull and glassy eyed. "Yeah, I still see him. Think I'm crazy, Professor?"

"I think you are many things, Mr. Rory, but you are not crazy." Martin frowns as he steps out onto the tower platform. He gestures next to Mick and says, "I would join you, but I'm afraid my joints won't allow it."

"S'okay," says Mick.

"I am given to wonder, Mr. Rory, why you can see Mr. Snart and no one else can," says Martin.

Mick shifts against the stone, looking between Martin and the empty space where he assumes Mick sees Oculus!Len. "We've known each other over thirty years."

Martin nods to this and wonders for a moment if Clarissa perished in such a manner if he would remember her in this way. They had known each other for nearly forty years, and they had been married much of that time. Would he see her as a phantom that waxed and waned faster than the moon? The thought makes Martin shudder.

Jefferson peaks through the tower door way. "It's time. Ystina's showing us the way down to Merlin's lab.”

Location: The Lab

Merlin’s lab is on the main floor of the castle and is far from the dank basement Amaya had been imagining. He has large windows which are open at present to allow in fresh air. Amaya’s gratitude for the open windows swells the farther she goes into the room. Ystina was right — the whole place has the smell of lightning not long after it’s struck the ground and burnt copper. Against instinct, she walks to stand closer by the team, and when she passes a large trunk, it rumbles as though someone is trying to break free.

Merlin simply kicks the trunk a few times until it settles down. “Apologies,” he says. “The old demon is giving me trouble again. You’d think after twenty-five years, he’d learn to be locked up.”

Ystina’s wide eyes narrow in on the trunk. “Does the king know you have a demon in here?”

“Know? My dear, he helped me lock it up.” Merlin smiles at them personably. “Now then, the tests will be quite simple.” He holds out his hands in which he has three, wooden medallions. “Each of you will take one of these. Your goal is to simply go on as you normally would on any given day, and your test will appear when it is ready.”

Mick, Amaya, and Jax all pluck a medallion from Merlin’s hand.

“How will we know when we’re being tested?” Amaya asks, slipping her medallion in her pocket.

“That’s the beauty of it — you won’t.” Merlin smiles at them. “I find the true nature of a person is better tested when they are acting normally. I shall find you all again at midday and we shall see if you have passed. Off you go now, all of you.”

“Probably for the best, ‘cause I don’t have any idea how to measure the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow,” says Jax.

“African or European?” asks Martin, making everyone snicker.

Merlin tilts his head to one side. “I have no idea what that means.”

As the group walks from the laboratory Sara remarks, “Well, that was anticlimactic. Ystina, is there any place where I could practice fighting? I feel like I need to punch something after that.”

Ystina chuckles and jerks her head in one direction. “Yes, this way.”

Amaya turns to Jax and Mick. “What do you think it will be?” she asks.

Jax shrugs. “No clue. Hopefully nothing like that game show, though.”

Amaya laughs as she follows after the rest. “One game show is enough for a lifetime.”

Location: The Practice Yards

When they make it to the practice yard, Jax holds the pieces to a puzzle in his hands. As Sara challenges Ystina to a fight, Jax sits down on one of the benches that line the practice yard, pieces dropped into his lap, and begins to put it together. Martin, who has been trying to dissuade Ray from playing with the swords, washes his hands of the matter and comes over to sit next to him.

Martin takes a moment to watch as Sara dances around Ystina with a grin before he looks down at Jax's lap. "Where did you find that?"

"On the way here. They were on the ground," says Jax. He tries to fit two pieces together but they don't stick so he takes them apart.

"Why did you take those two apart?" Martin asks. "They went together." He plucks the pieces from Jax's hands — and Jax has always admired how light-fingered Martin is for an old guy — and fits them back together. "Here, let me."

Jax turns away, trying to prevent the pieces from falling out of his lap by squeezing his knees together. "I want to solve it, Grey."

"So, I can't at least show you how?" asks Martin, rolling his eyes. "You'll never learn anything if you don't allow anyone to teach you, Jefferson."

"That'd be fine, if you could teach," says Jax, rolling his eyes right back. "But you don't teach, Grey, you just do."

Martin frowns. "I do not."

"You do so," says Jax. "You do it to everyone, but it's worse with me. You still think of me as a kid."

"This song and dance again?" Martin shakes his head. "You are so pigheaded, Jefferson, it's a wonder."

"Mmmhmm," says Jax. "And if I wasn't so pigheaded, I'd never get to say when you did anything wrong."

"And what have I done wrong lately?" Martin frowns while Jax remains silent. "Oh, for goodness sake, let me help you, Jefferson."

Jax pulls the pieces away from his grasp and holds up a single piece. "Where does this one go?"

"Jefferson!"

"You can help without touching."

Martin glares at him.

After a beat, Jax says, "It was yesterday, you know. I go through all of that back in the '90s, and you still embarrassed me like a little kid in front of the team and the knights."

Martin's eyes go distant for a moment, and then return to the present. "Oh." He frowns. "Jefferson, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Well you did," says Jax.

"Then, I'm... sorry," says Martin. He reaches for a puzzle piece and hesitates looking up at Jax. When Jax nods at him, he takes the piece and adds it to the two pieces that he's already put together. "I don't think of you as a child, Jefferson. You're a young man with a sound mind, and good instinct. I value our friendship greatly. But I am someone older than you — it will take time for me to change old habits."

"Grey," says Jax, meeting the older man's eye. "Thank you for your apology. But you went a little fast at that."

"A little fast?"

Jax looks down at the bench between them where Martin has assembled the puzzle while he spoke. "I couldn't see how you did it."

"Oh dear," says Martin. "I hadn't even realized."

Jax laughs a little. "You never do. But you know the great thing about puzzles is, they come apart too." He shifts the wood around, and the pieces come tumbling apart, onto the bench and even onto the ground.

"And don't you have anything to say, Jefferson?" Martin asks.

"Well, I'll apologize for being stingy, but I'm not sorry I'm stubborn."

Martin laughs as well. "Fair enough, I guess."

Unbeknownst to them, a nimble shadow hovering by their bench plucks a piece from the ground and stuffs it away.

"Not a bad retrieval," says Oculus!Len as he appears next to Mick.

"You gotta stop doing that," says Mick.

"I get bored," says Oculus!Len.

The shadow, in the light of the courtyard, reveals a little boy, of about ten, with blond hair and a sour frown. He walks past the racks of weapons stiffly, like he doesn't want to be noticed. When he walks past Mick, Mick can't help but say, "When you act like that, it only makes you stand out more."

The sour-faced boy turns to Mick and says, "Act like what? You don't know anything!"

"I know you stole something," says Mick, leaning back against the wall. He sits near the stone threshold that leads back to the castle, and motions for the kid to come closer. "If you wanna get really good at stealing things, you gotta act like you didn't just steal something."

The boy's frown deepens. "You're not going to tell me to give it back? Everybody else does — my stupid tutors and the knights."

"I ain't your tutors," says Mick. His hands itch and he wishes he had a beer or a light. "Or a knight."

The boy studies him for a moment, then some, but not all, of his frown ebbs away. "I like you," he declares plopping himself down in the dirt next to Mick. He looks up, squints and then moves to Mick's right side. "My name's Medrawt, but the English can't say it right."

"The English can't say a lot of things right," says Mick. He watches the boy nod, and says, "My name's Mick."

"Hey, look," says Oculus!Len with a cheesy grin. "You made a friend!"

Mick rolls his eyes at Oculus!Len, resisting the urge to tell him to stuff it. This kid probably has enough to worry about if he’s so desperate for company that he’s befriending Mick. Mick doesn't need to traumatize the kid by talking to people no one else can see. He listens and grunts in all the right places when Medrawt points out the knights who are practicing against one another. As his eyes settle on Sara, watching her now spar with Sir Lancelot, he says, "I wonder if Father would let her be my tutor."

"She's a little too brutal to tutor you, kid," says Oculus!Len. He points over to the part of the training yard where Lord Galehaut has been handing Ray his ass for the better part of a half hour. Sir Kay has taken over working Ray through his mistakes, and appears to be much more patient. "He seems like he'd have more to teach you."

"No," says Medrawt. "My uncle doesn't like me very much. Nobody in Camelot does — they all think I'm wicked."

Oculus!Len has nothing to say to this, he just looks at Medrawt kind of funny, so Mick chimes it. "People don't know everything, kid."

Medrawt only shrugs. "Gawaine thinks I'm alright because we're cousins — my father's sister is his mother. He says he'll make me his squire if Father will let him."

"Well, a good deed never hurts," says Oculus!Len, his eyes focused on the young boy. "Kid, they're looking for it. Why don't you go give back that puzzle piece? It'll make you look good."

"Really?" Medrawt asks, looking at Oculus!Len. "Well, alright." He stands and scampers over to where Jax and the Professor are looking around for their last piece. He proudly holds it out to them, and grins as they cheerfully thank him for his help.

The Queen steps out into the practice yard looking around, as Oculus!Len hisses in Mick’s ear, "Mick! That kid can see me."

"Mordred!" the Queen calls out. The little boy looks up. He looks down, suddenly bashful in her presence, as she extends a finger and then motions toward herself.

Medrawt, or was he really Mordred?, runs forward, stopping just short of the Queen. He bows to her. "Good day, your majesty."

"We've discussed this, my dear," says the Queen. "You need to stay with your tutors. What would happen if you actually became lost or we couldn't find you? We might think you were joking, and then we wouldn't know you'd need our help."

Medrawt, for that's what he had told Mick he wanted to be called, shrugs with a sigh. He says something in another language to which the Queen replies with ease. They argue for a moment, Medrawt stamping his foot and the Queen squatting down to take the boy, gently in hand.

Mick, meanwhile, cannot stop staring.

After they have worked out their argument, the Queen catches Mick staring. "Was he bothering you, Master Mick?"

Mick shakes his head, and then turns to Medrawt. "Who's standing here?" he asks.

"You, me, Gwenhwyfar and him," says Medrawt as he points at Oculus!Len. "Only, he didn't give his name, so I don't know how he's called."

Now the Queen stares. "Mordred, there's no one there, my dear."

Medrawt furrows his brow. "Yes, there is." He turns to Mick. "You can see him, can't you? He's your friend."

Mick nods, again unable to speak.

"Is it a spirit, Master Mick?" the Queen asks. "Merlin could banish him if you desire."

"No," says Mick, swiftly, his voice a hoarse croak. "No, it's fine."

The King steps through to the practice yard in the next moment and grins at their small company. "There you are, son. I thought you had promised not to run away from your tutors anymore?"

Medrawt looks at his feet. "I'm sorry, Father."

"Are you really?" asks the King. "You shouldn't say things you don't mean." He offers out his hand, which Medrawt takes. The King nods genially to Mick, and Medrawt waves with his free hand.

Mick listens to him go as they banter about Medrawt having to learn in a classroom and the King getting to learn in the woods.

Oculus!Len, meanwhile, flops down beside Mick. "Well, that was unexpected."

They spend all morning in the practice yard — most of the legends do some fighting at one point or another. Galahad works with Jax so that he might fight around his injury, Sara spars with anyone who will take her (after Sara's third fight, there are not many who dare), and Sir Kay gives Ray a crash course in sword play. Rip, surprisingly, only needs a refresher course before he's sparring with some of the knights, though loses soundly to Sir Lancelot. They even convince Mick to come out of his corner and wrestle with one of the knights. Mick wins, and Amaya offers him a towel to wipe away the mud and sweat. The faraway look in Mick's eye does not slip by her. "Mick? Are you alright?"

Mick looks down to meet her eye. "Fine." He then looks up to the sky and says, "It's past midday. Wasn't the magic man supposed to meet us by now?"

"Mick's right," says Sara. She makes a small motion to the rest of the team and they huddle up in one corner of the yard. "I'm starting to think that maybe we should try to find another course of action."

"Leave Camelot?" Rip asks.

"This is starting to feel more and more like a setup," says Sara.

"It was kind of strange that Madame Xanadu knew to ask for us by name," says Ray with a nod. "And so far it kind of seems like we might be captives here."

Jax shrugs in agreement. "Merlin was supposed to meet us here by now..."

Amaya frowns as one by one they all seem to agree to leave. "But, if the Legion is here, shouldn't we stay and help fight them off? Camelot's never encountered anything like them before. It's not fair."

Sara looks over to her. "It's not fair that they're keeping us here, dangling how to put the Spear together in front of us. Ray's right — we don't know that the lead Madame Xanadu gave us is the only one there is."

"But we can't just leave." Amaya feels her heart beat faster. "I want to stay." Then after a beat she says, "I'll stay even if you go."

Everyone stares at her, faces full of confusion.

“Amaya,” says Ray. “This is a period that’s really fraught with confrontation after...” He looks around and lowers his voice. “After Camelot there’s a power vacuum in Britain. It’ll be war all the time, with no end in sight.”

Rip looks sad as he chimes in, “And there really is no telling when, if at all, we would be able to return to retrieve you.”

Amaya nods to both of them. “I know that. But — there are forces here that are conspiring against the kingdom right now because we are here and because the Legion is chasing us. Maybe we didn’t cause the problem, but we still have a responsibility. So, no matter what you say, or where you go — I’m staying. I want to help.

"Well," says Merlin. The Legends' eyes all flick to him as all of them, even Sara, jump out of their skin. He stands in their circle, leaning with both hands on his staff. He props his chin on top of his hands. "Sorry for the delay — I wasn't sure if that last test would actually happen or if I might have to force something. But you did beautifully, Amaya."

Amaya feels her mouth fall open. The words struggle to form in her mouth, but at last she lets out, "That was a test?"

Merlin shrugs and nods. "It could have easily been something else, but your test revealed in you a sense of duty, and in the right measure it would seem, for you bow not to duty for duty's sake, but for righteousness."

"Right makes right," says Ray with a bright smile.

Merlin points to him with a grin. "I have a feeling you're quoting something."

"But, what about Jefferson and I?" asks Martin. "Was it the puzzle?"

"More the talking, than the puzzle," says Merlin, waving a hand. "I don't know what you said, but it showed a cooperation."

"And Mick?" Sara asks, looking toward the big man.

Merlin flicks his eyes toward Mick as well. "Mick has shown a great deal of kindness, toward someone in great need of it."

"I don't understand," says Rip. "What has all this to do with wielding the Spear?"

"The Spear ought only to be wielded by people who will do right with it." Merlin straightens out and takes his staff in hand. "Who better than people who have a duty toward what is right, who cooperate with others, who show kindness in the face of wrong?"

Amaya looks toward Sara. Sara looks remarkably calm — not like when she pretends for others, but actually relaxed. She nods at Merlin, her eyes far away with memory. "I see what you mean," says Sara.

"I'm glad." Merlin gestures back toward the castle. "Come, come! Down to my workshop, we have a Spear to make whole again."

As they walk behind him, Amaya feels bright and lighter than air. For the first time in a long time, she allows herself to feel unadulterated hope.

Location: The Lab

It's strange, thinks Ray, but they all present their Spear pieces without asking and lay them out on Merlin's workbench. "I spent all morning clearing it," he says, waving a hand over it.

"Do you require assistance, Master?” asks Nimue from where she sits reading in the windowsill.

"No, no," says Merlin, waving her off. "This is not something you can help with, apprentice. I used a great deal of power from all over the earth when I broke the Spear into pieces. You see, in its natural state the Spear wants to stay together, so I had to enchant it to keep it in pieces. It nearly killed me. Thankfully, I shall need no great powers now, for I made it so the undoing would be a thing of ease." Merlin draws a pin from his robe and pricks his thumb. Blood wells up on the end of his thumb, and Merlin lets three drops fall onto the stone table.

A beat.

Ray looks around the room. "Nothing's happening."

Sara frowns, and Ray can see her faith from the courtyard somewhat stripped away.

Merlin, too, looks somewhat perplexed. "I was certain it was three drops...was it more or some other fluid...ah there it is!"

They turn back toward the Spear where it has begun emitting a faint glow.

Merlin, for good measure, leaves a few more drops of blood, but the glow neither increases or diminishes. He sighs. "Oh, time, the enemy of us all. I suppose we shall simply have to wait."

"How long?" Sara asks, in her I'm-the-leader-now voice.

"Hmm, a few hours perhaps." He looks Sara in the eye. "I know you are worried, Captain Lance, but I promise you in this room, no one may enter unless I am here, or..." he snaps his fingers and pulls a key from his pocket. "Or if they have the key. So, until the Spear is complete, you shall hold the key."

Sara accepts the key, her fingers curling around it. She pauses for a moment, more intentional than hesitation, glancing up at Mick, before she slips the key into her pocket. "Thank you," she says to Merlin.

"You are most welcome," says Merlin. "And I don't think it should be terribly long."

Ray looks at the Spear, they all do, watching it glow as the magic holding it in pieces slowly begins to fade away.

Location: Morgan’s Camp

Jason Blood enters Morgan's camp shortly after midday. Ystina follows after him from a distance as she has done since he left the grounds of Camelot. She wonders if her testimony of him riding into the camp will be enough, and she knows it is not. There will have to be something more damning to convict one of the most beloved Knights of the Round Table.

Ystina spots a hooded figure walking toward the camp and pulls her sword from the scabbard. Following after him, as quietly as she can, Ystina knocks the man over the head with the pommel and watches him crumple. She drags the man behind a tree before she strips off his robe. Slipping the robe over herself, Ystina pulls up the hood and walks toward the camp.

She's lost Jason now, but soon she spots him waiting outside of a tent. As Ystina lays eyes on him, the two hooded figures standing guard pull back the tent flaps and allow him entry.

Ystina steels herself, then walks up to the two hooded figures. "Relief," she says, deepening her voice. "Who's first?"

One of them grunts, stepping out of place before the other can, and lets Ystina take his place.

"This is well done, Jason Blood," says a voice that sends shivers down her spine. Ystina presumes this to be Morgan le Fey. "And what of the Spear?"

"The reason for my delay, my queen — Merlin has deemed our guests from the future worthy of the Spear's power, and even now pieces it back together. I have been told the task will finish near nightfall."

"And who told you this?" asks an unfamiliar voice. "I can't imagine you're pals with Merlin, or else he would’ve noticed you're coated with Lady Morgan's magic."

"Did you think Jason Blood was my only spy in Camelot, Master Darhk?" says Morgan. "Leave it to her, Jason. She will bring me the Spear when it is complete. In the while between then and now, we shall marshal the troops and make ready for battle."

"There is more, my queen," says Jason Blood.

"Oh?" asks Morgan le Fey.

"Yes," says Jason. "I believe Arthur has set a spy on me."

Before Ystina can move, someone grabs the back of her cloak, pulling her and spinning her around. When Ystina collects herself, Jason Blood has a tight arm around her waist and a knife to her throat. "Isn't that so, Ystina?" he asks. "Though why Arthur chose you — his own ward — escapes me."

"It's because I've always been able to see you for the traitor you are," says Ystina, ignoring how Jason presses the knife into her skin even further. She hisses at the pressure on her neck and tries not to startle as Morgan le Fey comes closer.

Morgan takes Ystina's chin in hand and bores her gaze into the younger woman. Ystina holds her breath. Morgan mutters something in Cornish, something Ystina can only catch part of. "It isn't possible," says Morgan. She releases Ystina and looks up Jason Blood, speaking in English this time. "Take her prisoner — see she is secured but not harmed. We may have a use for her later.”

Ystina tries to fight, but Jason holds her down just long enough for Morgan to press her fingers into Ystina's forehead. The world around her goes dark.

----

When Jason Blood has secured Ystina he makes his way back toward Camelot. He does not notice Legion!Len following him.

Location: Camelot

When the army appears — not marches up but literally appears — on the hill outside of Camelot Mick watches everyone lose their minds. Since they're stuck there, Sara insists that they stand in on the proceedings. Mick thinks it's a waste of time trying to decide whether to have a siege or to fight — seems like it's always gonna come to a fight.

Mick pushes off the wall where he has been leaning.

"Where are you going?" Sara asks as he passes by her.

"Walk," says Mick. "Can't stay still anymore."

Sara nods to him. "Stay close."

Mick nods in return.

Mick meanders around the castle halls, letting his mind wander as he does. He stops cold when he sees Len leaning against a wall. "You gotta stop doing this," says Mick.

"If you're talking about sneaking into castles," Legion!Len drawls, "then I'm afraid I can't stop."

Mick blinks and realizes Legion!Len wears the black outfit from last night's feast, not in the clothes from the Oculus. Mick looks all around but Oculus!Len, who has haunted him for months now, is nowhere to be found. "What do you want, Snart?"

"I want you to tell me the play, Mick." Legion!Len shrugs as he begins to walk toward Mick. "I gotta admit, we've known each other a long time, and I never pegged you for a man who could run a long con."

"It ain't a con, Snart." Mick frowns at him. "I know what I said in Rome, but you dragged me on this stupid time ship and made me care. It made me... better."

Snart raises an eyebrow. "Better? Better because you take orders now? Better because they say that you're friends even though you're little more than a pet? Better because they look over their shoulders every time something goes wrong to blame you, the arsonist, the thief?"

"They don't..." Mick trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. Do they? His memories are all jumbled. Something about this place, something about the Spear being so close by, he can't think straight. "They don't. They care about me – they think I’m their friend.” He tries to focus on Amaya and Jax when they let him burn down that theater, when Ray complements him with bright smiles. But the way Sara looked at him as her hand curls around Merlin’s key, the team’s faces cast with doubt force their way to the forefront of his mind. He opens his eyes and stares Legion!Len down.“I'm not conning them."

Legion!Len only shakes his head. "You've run such a good con, Mick, you don't just have them convinced. You've talked yourself into being someone that's not you."

"Mick." A cold presence settles on his shoulder, and Mick knows without looking, he knows Oculus!Len has appeared to him again. "Mick, he's lying. He's trying to trick you, and it's not true. You know what I'm like; you know I'll say anything to get what I want."

"You'll say anything to get what you want," says Mick to Legion!Len.

Legion!Len shrugs. "True. But the best way to convince someone of something is to show them the truth. And here's the truth, Mick: the Legion is going to get what they want. When they do your little group of Legends are going to suffer. Now you ask yourself — which side are you going to be on. The side that will welcome your skills and expertise with open arms? Or the side that thinks you're a scumbag and are sure to be annihilated in any case?" Snart finally moves toward him. "I'm your friend, Mick. And with me, each score has been bigger than the last. You think about that, buddy. And when you choose our side, come to Morgan's camp outside the castle walls. She's going to attack when the Spear's complete, so you don't have long. But don't worry; I know you'll make the best choice." Snart pats him on the arm and walks away through the castle, at a slow and easy pace, like a stable tom-cat unafraid of the horses that might trample him.

"Mick, you need to tell the others that Morgan's going to attack soon. They have to get ready." Oculus!Len's cold ghost-like form tugs at him.

But Mick's head is swimming. He feels old, and tired, and, worst of all, stupid. "Leave me alone, Snart."

"It's a trick, you know it's a trick," Oculus!Len says.

Mick squeezes his eyes shut again, the lighting of the castle, the feel of Oculus!Len’s cold against him, the whirring of his mind, suddenly all too much. He staggers to the wall, feeling until he presses his back against it, sliding down to the floor. "Leave me alone, Snart," he says again.

When Mick opens his eyes, he is alone.

Chapter Text

The assassin does not watch her pockets closely, Morgan's spy finds, as she slips her hand inside and pulls out the key to Merlin's lab. She treks the familiar passageways, arriving at the door in no time at all, unlocking it and pulling the door open. The Spear sits on the workbench, its pulsating glow only highlighting its completion. She moves forward to take the Spear.

"So," a voice rings out before she can reach her target. "Many years you've been my apprentice, Nimue."

Nimue turns and smiles at him. "And many years, Merlin, you've been blind. Morgan is the superior master in every way — you should have known that."

Merlin shakes his head, pityingly. "Only your ruin will come from serving her."

"No," says Nimue, with a vicious smile. "But I think yours will." She grasps the Spear and holds it out jabbing it in Merlin’s direction. The Spear’s glows intensifies, but the light then punches her in the stomach, back against the stone bench, making Nimue fall to her knees.

Merlin sighs. “I did try to tell you, only the worthy can wield that Spear. There are ways around worthiness, surely, but without an incantation or —”

“MY EYES!” Nimue screams. “I CANNOT SEE!”

Merlin shakes his head. “And no more shall you cast.” He holds out his hand and beckons, as a soft blue light flows from Nimue to him. “You will retain your second sight, though, but no more shall magic leave you.”

Nimue goes still, slumping slightly against the stone bench. Like lightning, just before the blue light of her magic fades, she shoots up and fires a spell at him. "I hope you like that, Merlin. Morgan taught me a nasty curse, just for you." Laughter tumbles out of her and does not stop.

Merlin waves his staff. "Begone, wretch!"

Nimue disappears, and when she does, Merlin feels part of his arm stiffen. He pulls back the sleeve of his tunic to find the bark of wood crawling up his arm. He frowns at it. "My end so soon?" he asks, sighing. "Oh, Time, you fickle thing."

The chest against the wall rumbles. Merlin looks up at it and sees for the first time in twenty-five years why he'd kept the demon in the first place. The Spear and his staff under one arm, he picks up the chest under the other and sets out. There are things yet to do before the end.

----

Mick opens his eyes to someone calling his name. He expects it to be one of his teammates, and to tell them to leave him alone when he opens his eyes and sees that it’s the magic man.

“Mick,” says Merlin. “I have need of you.”

Merlin holds out the completed Spear to him.

Mick reaches up to take it, but then pulls back, hesitating. “Are you sure you want me?”

“I have seen into your soul Mick Rory,” says Merlin with a bright smile. “I know you — the things you have done — some things which you have yet to do. I have seen the person you are underneath, Mick, and that has led me here.” Merlin sighs. “I wish it were not so, but I must give you this. Time itself demands it.”

Mick feels his heart plummet into his stomach in a way he hasn’t felt since he was sixteen. Time, the ever-present bitch, has screwed him over before. He wraps his hand around the Spear. “We’re all just puppets, aren’t we?” he asks.

Merlin smiles at him. “Have heart. You’ll make the right choice.” He readjusts himself, a small chest under one arm and his staff in his other hand, before he scuttles off down the hall.

Mick turns the Spear over in his hands. “No,” he says. “I really won’t.”

Location: Morgan’s Camp

Nimue stumbles into Morgan's camp. She cannot see but she can feel the heat of Morgan's magic and collapses at Morgan's feet. "Mistress, help me."

Nimue feels Morgan's hands on her shoulders and Morgan's breath on her face. "Nimue, where is the Spear?"

The hot tears streak her face. "Merlin stole it from me. Please Mistress, help me, I cannot see."

Morgan laughs at her. "That's the least of your worries, Nimue." Morgan tosses her to the side, and stands. Nimue tries to hold on, but all she gets is a strip of leather that comes off as Morgan walks away. "Prepare our forces for battle," Morgan shouts — Nimue thinks it must be to one of her generals, for she cannot see. "It looks like we do this the hard way."

People move around her, but Nimue stays crumpled on the ground. The leather in her hand feels... magical.

----

Eobard looks on with a frown of pity. "Didn't know what she was getting into, did she?"

Darhk shakes his head with a frown. "No one ever does. I think it might be time we back out of our agreement."

"To be so cruel to her own apprentice," says Queen Bee, shaking her head. "What will she do to us, who are strangers to her? I have to agree with Damien."

"Leaving already?" Legion!Len asks as he saunters up to them.

"And where have you been?" asks Eobard.

"Setting up a contingency," says Legion!Len with a smile. "When the time is right, let's get back to the ship. I've got a feeling he'll meet us there."

Location: Camelot

Ray watches the people of Camelot racing around them for preparations. Any non-combatants are rushing to get out of the Citadel, for it looks like it will be a battle. Any combatants are dressing in their armor, preparing their weapons. All except Galahad, who races up to them. "Have any of you seen Ystina?"

They all shake their heads. "The last time we saw her was this morning at the practice yards," says Jax.

Lancelot places a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezes. "Galahad, Ystina is very clever and she can take care of herself. She will be fine — but you have to make sure you are here for her to come back to, my son. So, go, make ready."

Galahad's eyes grow very wet, like he's about to cry, but he nods. "Yes," is all he says before he disappears back into the crowd.

Ray shakes his head at the sight and then turns to Sara. "We're staying, aren't we?"

"We would welcome you if you did," says Lancelot, nodding to them. "You are all warriors of great skill." Someone calls Lancelot's name through the crowd. "It seems I'm needed." He nods them and walks away.

"Ray, we can't stay and fight this," says Sara. "We've probably caused enough damage as it is. We need to get the Spear and get out."

"Sara, we can't just go," says Ray. "Besides, King Arthur is a legend, not history — there's no records of him besides stories and poems written hundreds or over a thousand years later. No one knows what actually happened. That's got to count for something."

Sara sighs. "You're going to do this anyway, aren't you?"

Ray nods. He looks a little sheepish as he says, "Sorry, I know you're the captain and we're supposed to listen to you."

Sara thumps Ray on the shoulder. "Why start now? Besides, my duty as Captain is to assess the best decision for our team. So, what does everyone else think?"

Jax nods. "I'm in."

"We're in," says Martin, sharing a look with Jax.

"I think you know my answer," says Amaya, with a bright smile.

Rip turns to her. "I'm with you, Sara."

Sara shakes her head at her team but nevertheless a small smile creeps onto her face. “Let’s suit up then.” She turns away, and as they scatter to prepare for their fight Sara finds Arthur and Gwenhwyfar. “Your majesties, if I could have just a moment.”

“Lady Sara,” says Gwenhwyfar, her brows drawn together.

“It seems to me with how fast Morgan’s army is approaching the only place there would be to stand and fight is in the citadel yard,” says Sara, pointing it out on the map of Camelot they had laid out. “But that’ll put us on the defensive and make it hard to drive them back. I’d like to propose a different tactic.”

Everyone looks to Arthur. Arthur looks back to Sara and nods. “Go on,” he says.

Location: With Ystina

Ystina huffs as she throws her weight against the post they tied her to. She knows she is probably wasting energy — it will take some more time for the post to break, if ever she breaks it. But no matter what, Ystina cannot stop. Camelot must be warned. She has tested it, and the pole is too high for her to get her bindings over, and since Jason blindfolded her after he removed her weapons and tied her up, she doesn't know if there are any other resources in the tent to help. So, with nothing left for it, she throws her shoulder into the post, again and again. The camp around her has gone silent giving her far too much time to think. She allowed Jason to catch her — Ystina knows she dropped her guard, believing herself to be smarter than someone twenty years her senior. It was foolish of her. The hot shame of it all courses through her and she begins to kick at the base of the post, again and again.

Finally, Ystina hears something crack. She runs her foot along the post until she finds the uneven portion. Ystina kicks it again. Her harsh breath is the only thing ringing in her ears as she musters up her strength to kick it one final time.

The post snaps.

Ystina balances her weight counter to the block, which threatens to drag her down with the force of its snap. She lets it slide over the rope and away from her back until she is free of it. Then, slowly, nearly tripping herself a few times, Ystina slides her hands under her feet until she can hold them in front of her. She rips off the blindfold.

A figure stands unmoving in front of her, pale and lifeless.

Ystina, despite herself, shrieks.

The figure raises a finger to her lips, slowly exhaling, "Shhhh..."

Even the whisper of the voice brings a sense of familiarity to Ystina's mind. "Nimue?" The person before her looks nothing like Nimue — her hair is pale, almost gone white, her skin gaunt and sallow, and her eyes — her eyes are blank as moonlight. They do not focus, only stare ahead. If not for the voice, Ystina might never have guessed it was she.

"You shouldn't go back," says Nimue, as she holds up a long strip of leather.

After a moment, Ystina recognizes it as King Arthur's scabbard. She wraps her hands firmly around the leather and tugs it from Nimue's grip. "I have to go back," says Ystina. "I need to warn them."

"They know," says Nimue. "Even now, they know. But you, Ystina — if you leave this camp before dawn, your fate is sealed. You will never see Camelot again."

Ystina shakes her head. Then, remembering Nimue is blind, she says, "No, I have to try. I have to help." She races to the entrance of the tent, and then turns back. "Wait here, Nimue. I'll be back for you."

There are no horses left anywhere in the camp, Ystina finds, as she searches the grounds. All she finds remaining are her sword and knife in Morgan's tent with the witch's belongings. She buckles Arthur’s sword belt around her waist and slips the sword into the scabbard and her knife into its sheath in her boot. Then, since there are no horses to be found, Ystina makes off on foot toward Camelot.

After she leaves, Nimue stands alone in the empty tent. She shakes her head at no one and says, "You don't understand. You're not coming back at all." Nimue raises her hands out in front of her to feel around, and walks forward. She can feel a fog roll in over her skin as she walks into the forest.

The fog blankets her until nothing of Nimue remains.

Location: Outside of Camelot

Eobard feels jittery in the way he does when he's gone too long without going for a run. "Your boy better be here," he hisses to Legion!Len.

"Relax," says Legion!Len, with his feral grin. "He'll be here. Have a little faith 'Bard."

Eobard controls his expression at the nickname, but still his gaze lingers on Legion!Len for a moment. He hadn’t used that stupid name since before... Eobard turns back to the battle at hand. He will need to get Queen Bee to reinforce Legion!Len’s treatment.

They stand before the gates of Camelot with Morgan's vanguard ready to charge. Morgan stands with Jason Blood in hand, smiling at him. To anyone else, it might look like adoration. To Eobard, she looks like a python.

"Are you ready, my love?" asks Morgan.

"I'm ready my queen." Jason Blood smiles back at her, only more genuine, as if his little heart might burst from his love.

Eobard wants to gag.

Jason walks to the front of the vanguard and holds out his arms. "I, Jason, knight and gatekeeper of Camelot bid you welcome. Come, cross over."

The vanguard races forward, Morgan sauntering in afterward — Jason Blood remains.

"Coward," Darhk says under his breath.

"No," says Legion!Len. "It's how the magic works. He has to cross over last. Probably waiting to send in more troops."

Queen Bee shakes her head. "No. It's too quiet — they must have surrendered."

Morgan stalks out a moment later. By the look on her face — red, twisted with anger — no one had surrendered. "You!" she raises a finger to Jason Blood, jabbing it in the air.

"My Queen?" says Jason, stepping back as her wrath begins to tower above her.

"There is no one in the whole of Camelot. You have led us into a trap!"

Jason's eyes grow wide and he begins to shake. "No, my queen — I swear — I am loyal only to you! Arthur could never hold my affection! He and his knights must have run scared from your power and might." He kneels before her. "Camelot is yours, my queen."

"Camelot," Morgan spits, "means NOTHING if Arthur yet lives."

Eobard realizes Morgan's rage has grown into a very real sensation. She does not glow or levitate, but the air feels stiff, like much of the oxygen has left — static electricity runs between bodies and metal plates of armor — there has been noise present, the sounds of birds, the forest, and the rush of wind over trees, and now all goes silent.

Jason kneels in place, almost frozen, as Morgan raises her hand above her. Eobard expects some chanting or some terrible curse. He does not expect Morgan to slap Jason across the face, leaving marks from his temple to his jaw. Jason chokes, the scratches swelling and turning red almost immediately. Morgan takes her hand again and holds him in place. "A quick death is too good for you, you failure of a mongrel, Jason Blood." Morgan says nothing more before pushing him to the ground. Blood lays still.

"Poison," says Darhk, both eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Ouch," says Legion!Len.

They are all so transfixed that the only thing which breaks Morgan's spell over them are the screams from behind the gates of Camelot. A giant man as risen to a height greater than the walls, and now scoops up soldiers and throws them as far as he can.

"That's what's his face — Sir Kay," says Legion!Len. His face draws in, confused. He turns to Eobard. "You didn't say that Camelot had metahumans."

"I didn't KNOW Camelot had metahumans," says Eobard, his eyes caught by a movement.

Like a bolt of lightning, a streak of red and white tears through the crowd of soldiers.

"This is a trap!" Morgan declares.

The bolt stops, and a young man wearing a tunic of a red cross on a white background stands before Morgan. "Yes, your ladyship, it is."

A mighty roar rises up as, suddenly, an army appears out of thin air and charges Morgan's own.

"Might be time for us to beat a hasty retreat, 'Bard," says Legion!Len.

Eobard rolls his eyes — just for the nickname, he picks up Queen Bee first and carries her back to the ship. He returns for Darhk, and takes Snart last.

"Nothing to do but wait, then," says Queen Bee as they turn to watch the carnage. "Do you really think it will all work in our favor, Leonard?"

"Oh, he'll be here," says Legion!Len.

"He had better be," Eobard mutters under his breath.

----

Amaya races into battle with Arthur's army — knights and soldiers alike — her totem fueling her spirit while she keeps pace with an actual lion as he launches himself on person after person. "Has no one here any fight?" the lion cries out.

"Just when I thought I'd seen everything," says Sara, as she knocks down a soldier and stands back to back with Amaya.

"You see a talking lion?" Amaya asks, grinning.

"Something like that," says Sara.

They can't talk for long as they are both drawn into different battles.

Sir Bedivere, who had aided them by using Morgan's own spell of disguise, joins Firestorm and Atom in the air, throwing down lightning bolts. Galahad speeds throughout the battle, none, not even his father able to keep up with them. Lancelot fends off ten men at once. Galehaut and Gwenhwyfar fight back to back, each without powers, but no less fierce than the others.

But Amaya watches as Arthur draws his sword and heads for Morgan. Excalibur takes her breath away as she watches it begin to glow and pulse — others must feel it too for they part the way for the king.

Arthur stands before Morgan le Fey, sword drawn. "It comes to this, then, Morgan. The Saxons failed you, magic has failed you, rape has failed you, too."

"Where is my son?" Morgan snarls like a beast of the wild, raising up a hand.

"MY son is safe, away from you — who knows what dark purpose you would have for him," says Arthur. He stills, his face going slack, but holds his ground against her. "I didn't have to be this way, Morgan, we were family once."

"We were NEVER family!" Morgan raises up her hands, a beam of energy shooting out of them toward Arthur.

Arthur holds Excalibur forward and the sword takes the energy from the blast in stride, then swings to attack. Morgan blocks with magic alone, matching strike for strike against Arthur. Arthur does not let up, but continues to fight, despite the fact he cannot see the weapon which he arms himself against.

Amaya is so enthralled, so enraptured by this that she does not see Mick walk out of the gates of Camelot. She doesn't see him until the buzz of energy from Morgan and Arthur's battle is rivaled by another. That's when Amaya looks and sees Mick — and he's holding the Spear. Amaya fights toward him, kicking and punching anyone who gets in her way. "Mick!" she cries, a smile lighting up her face. "You did it! You got the Spear."

"Yeah." Mick looks a little confused to her, almost as if he's in a daze. "I got it. Amaya...?"

"What's the matter, Mick?" she asks, looking up at him.

"Amaya, what do I do?" he asks.

She thinks he means with the Spear. Amaya grasps it as well her hand right under his and says, "We should use it to stop the battle. No one else needs to get hurt."

The others look over to them. Sara looks at Amaya and shouts, “Use the Spear to stop the fighting."

"Knock'em on their asses?" Mick asks.

Amaya nods. "Let's do it."

Mick raises the Spear, and then brings it back down, no more than tapping it on the ground. A shock wave emits from the Spear — everyone goes flying onto their backs, bowled over by the sheer force, which even knocks Atom, Firestorm, and Sir Bedivere from the sky. The force of the Spear makes the bricks of the walls of Camelot tremble and begin to fall off of one another. Dirt and dust fill the air and when it clears, with some magical help, the only one left standing is Mick.

Amaya looks up at him, up at the Spear, in awe of its power. "Mick," she whispers.

Mick looks all around the battlefield. His eyes glaze over at the sight of them all, sprawled out, moaning and groaning. "He was right," he says in the softest voice Amaya has ever heard him use. "He was right. I'm nothing but trouble."

Amaya wants to get to her feet but can't quite manage. She still forces her way to Mick and grabs onto him. "Mick, who told you that? What's going on?"

Mick looks at her, his face completely blank. "You're all afraid of me," is all he says.

The wind whistles past them and Amaya thinks she hears someone say, "It's the Spear, Mick! The Spear!"

Mick only reaches forward and kisses her cheek. When he pulls back he says, "I'm sorry." He takes a step back, out of Amaya's reach before he looks at the Spear and says, "Take me to him."

Amaya doesn’t have time to reach out before Mick disappears.

----

Mick watches Legion!Len grin as he approaches them holding the Spear. "Well done, partner," says Legion!Len.

"Snart was right," says the speedster guy, grinning too. "We never should have doubted you."

The other two, the one who killed Sara's sister and the Queen congratulate him too before they load up onto a timeship.

“Mick, please,” says Oculus!Len, trying to grab him but his fingers ghost right through. “Mick, please, you don’t need to do —”

The doors of the time ship shut, cutting him off.

Mick remains blank, though — he feels blank. He hasn't felt like this since the last time he got onto a timeship with a bunch of people he didn't know, right before they scrubbed him clean of everything he was.

----

There is no time to figure out what has happened for a commotion on the battlefield draws their attention to where Morgan and Arthur lay. Morgan straddles Arthur holding a knife in her hands. Arthur holds her back, but the blow of the Spear has disoriented everyone – no one can help. Amaya tries to rise, and though she manages, her legs wobble beneath her. There are others recovering as well, but Morgan begins to chant, and Arthur's arms shake as he tries to hold her back.

A lone figure makes it to them, his sword in hand. Arthur looks up at him, saying, "Do it, Galahad."

Galahad raises his sword and plunges it through Morgan's back. Morgan and Arthur are too close, and the sword plunges through him as well.

Morgan only laughs when Galahad withdraws the sword. "You would kill yourself just to kill me?" she asks Arthur, blood dribbling from her mouth. "Perhaps we are more alike than I thought."

"I would do anything to stop you," says Arthur.

"Would you order him to kill our son?" Morgan asks.

"What?" says Arthur. He looks to his side, and there stands a little boy who was not there a moment before.

"I'm here, Mother," he says with a bright smile.

Galahad tries to reach out to the boy, crying, "Mordred, no," but a single look from the boy sends him to his knees.

"Take my hand, my darling," says Morgan, reaching out to him.

Mordred takes his mother's hand, the wind rises, taking the dirt with it again. When everything settles the two of them are gone.

Arthur lies, bleeding out on the battlefield, for nothing.

----

Jason has crawled but a hundred feet from Camelot's gates when he's met with a pair of boots.

"You certainly didn't make it far," says Merlin.

Jason Blood looks up and sees the wizard standing over him. "Have you come to mock me, Merlin?"

"Yes, a little," says Merlin. "For because of your weak will, Camelot may have fallen this day. If you had but resisted her, Jason, or told someone, let them help you, it all would have been different."

Jason Blood scowls at him. "I will pay for my crimes with my life, Merlin. Is that not enough?"

Merlin shakes his head. "No, I think not." He sets down a chest he has been carrying under his arm. When it rests on the ground, Merlin unlatches it. "Jason Blood, until the day you atone for your grievous sin, you will be bound to a demon of the pit. Look now Jason, upon the one you will become." Merlin then begins to mutter, and at first Jason cannot make out what the old man is saying.

Then Merlin goes on, the chanting becomes hypnotic, and Jason cannot help but chant with him. "Gone, gone, the form of man, arise the demon Etrigan!"

It is a long time before Merlin groans and begins to claw at his arm and his leg. He straightens himself out in a moment, and Jason is still in no position to stop him. "Leave this place, Jason Blood, leave Camelot forever."

At Merlin's words, Jason, or perhaps a beast, rises up and scrambles away into the shadows of the night.

----

Merlin, meanwhile, limps to where Arthur lays.

Everyone has gathered around their king as he bleeds out in the yard. The Legends huddle together, somber at the death of someone so well beloved.

Gwenhwyfar looks up from where she holds Arthur in her lap as she sees Merlin approach. "Please, Merlin, please help him."

Merlin places a hand on Gwenhwyfar's shoulder as he struggles to kneel and take Arthur into his own lap.

"I think I'm a bit too far gone," says Arthur, his words no more than a rasping whisper.

"No." Merlin shakes his head, "not yet, my boy. You'll live a while longer. But you will have to do it without me, I'm afraid. Know this would have happened to me no matter what I did in this moment. And know that I love you, Arthur. I always have, my boy." Merlin leans down and presses a kiss to Arthur's forehead. As he does they both begin to glow and two things start as one. Arthur's wounds begin to seal up, the lines on his skin knitting together without so much as a scar. At the same time, Merlin closes his eyes, letting bark overtake his skin, the lines of an ancient tree forming there. The tree takes him over and grows tall and strong, roots digging deep, budding and sprouting many leaves.

Arthur takes a deep breath and opens his eyes wide as he sits up. He looks around at everyone present and then up at the tree. Tears in his eyes, he says, "It's the wrong time of year for a tree to bud. He always was a bit dramatic." He tries to hold together his composure, but fails as the tears stream down his face. Kay pulls him to his feet, unashamedly embracing his brother before releasing him so that Gwenhwyfar might do the same.

"He really does become a tree," says Sara while they watch from a distance.

"And Arthur lives," says Ray, with a shrug. "I guess there really is no way of knowing what can happen — or what should."

Rip nods along. "We should go. If the Legion has the Spear then we haven't got much time on our hands."

Ray looks to where Galehaut is refusing to let Galahad out of his sight, even as Lancelot must persuade the young man to stay within the castle walls for now. "I'll catch up," he says as he surges forward toward Galehaut.

Galehaut sees him running forward and greets him with a sad smile. "Are you leaving then, Raymond?”

"We've got to," says Ray. "One of our companions made off with the Spear, and that's our responsibility. But I wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye, Raymond." Galehaut holds out his hand and they clasp forearms. "May time be kind to you, my friend."

"And to you," says Ray. He goes to walk away but then turns back. He leans in close so that he can drop his voice. "And, uh, for what it's worth, I still think you should talk to Lancelot."

"RAY!" calls Sara from the gate. "LET'S GO."

"Goodbye, Raymond," says Galehaut once more, now a little more at ease.

Ray runs off toward the rest of the Legends.

Location: Unknown Year: 2017 C.E.

Madame Xanadu sits alone in the dark of her shop. She hears a commotion, like someone has tripped over something, knocking it to the ground. “Ow! Why are there no lights in this place?”

“She’s blind, ‘Bard, she doesn’t need them.”

Madame Xanadu snorts, letting them find here where she sits at her reading table. She has a set of braille tarot cards in front of her now, which she likes better; no one can read them but her. She lays out five cards — no six, two of them have stuck together: Seven of Pentacles, reversed; Hierophant, upright; King of Cups, reversed; Seven of Swords, upright stuck together with the Fool, upright; and lastly, the Six of Wands reversed. “Ahh,” says Madame Xanadu. “You’ve returned.”

“Indeed we have,” says the speedster, even if he was not the one she had addressed.

“And were you successful?” She does not need to ask for she can feel the power of the Spear.

“Your information was spot on,” says the wizard who has lost his power. “I didn’t understand how you had such accurate information until the end, though. It must have hurt, losing your sight and your magic. I can sympathize, Nimue.”

“You’ve been alive longer than I have,” says Xanadu, a small smile on her lips. “So I suppose you know exactly how I feel.”

“What is it, then, you want from us, Madame?” asks the Queen. “To return your magic?”

Xanadu waves her off. “Magic I can get.” Immortality she already has, but they don’t need to know that. “I want my sight and my youth.”

“Go ahead Mick,” says the thief to the Six of Wands.

The Six of Wands holds the Spear. He reaches out and taps her on the head with the point.

It happens all at once. Madame Xanadu can feel her body metamorphose into something new at the same time she feels her eyes clear and her vision return. She is grateful for the dark, for her vision is sensitive. The Six of Wands stands before her, tall and proud, if somewhat dazed. She leans up and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you, dear one.” She turns to the others in turn. “I pray you remember me in this new world of yours.”

“Madame, I don’t think that will be a problem,” says the speedster with a smile. “But for now, we must say good-bye. We still have that brave new world to create.”

Location: Miles West of Camelot Year: 510 C.E.

They’re nearly back to The Waverider when a figure comes barreling through the woods. Sara recognizes her calling out, “Ystina!”

Ystina sees them and veers off toward the group. “What news?” she asks, breathless, as she gets closer. “What has happened in Camelot?”

“Everything’s fine,” says Sara, taking Ystina by the hand. “The King, Galahad — everything’s okay.”

“And Morgan? Jason Blood?” asks Ystina, still panting.

“Morgan escaped with Mordred,” says Ray with a frown. “And after Jason Blood went down, I didn’t see what happened to him.”

“But the important thing,” says Sara, resting her hand on Ystina’s shoulder. “Is that everyone will live to fight another day.”

Ystina nods, her body relaxing and a smile drawing on her face. “I should go then. They’ll be wondering where I’ve gone.” As she turns she has to shield her eyes from the dawning sun. “It seems Nimue was wrong.”

“What was that?” Jax asks.

Ystina turns back to them. “Nimue told me that if I tried to go back to Camelot before dawn, all would be lost for me. It seems she was wrong.” Ystina grins and turns back toward Camelot.

As she takes a step forward the ground begins to rock and tremble. They all struggle to keep their balance. The ground shakes again.

Rip points toward the sky. “We’re too late.”

Everyone follows his finger to where a green wave rushes across the sky for them. Time itself has come at the summons of the Spear of Destiny. The green wave encircles them, ensnaring Ystina as well. Everyone reaches for each other, trying to hold on as they get pulled into the temporal zone.

“What is happening?” Ystina cries.

“Timequaaaake,” says Rip, or he tries to over the roar of the Temporal Zone.

Something latches onto Ystina’s leg, pulling her away from the group and flinging her into time and space. Her scream penetrates the loudest roar of time.

“Ystina!” Jax cries.

“Hold onto each other,” says Sara, as she tries to grasp tightly to Rip and Amaya.

They hold, and they hold, but it is not enough.

Time takes hold of Ray first, wrenching him away and pushing him into the time stream. Then Martin, then Jax, Rip. Amaya and Sara are left, holding onto each other, Time pulling at them, trying to break them apart.

“Don’t let go,” says Sara.

Amaya looks her in the eye. “You said it yourself, Sara.” She manages to smile. “We’ll find another way. We always do.”

They can’t hold on and slip through each other’s fingers.

Satisfied with its completion of orders, the Time Stream goes quiet.

To be continued.

Fade Out

Chapter Text

see on tumblr here

Kickingshoes' tarot card for Episode 19 - they've created a full set of Major Arcana based on the episodes! See more of their art here!