Arthur entered Agravaine's bedroom with a quiet knock and considerable apprehension. "Ah, Arthur," the lord said with a broad smile as he stepped in. "…And…your friend," he added, smile drooping a bit as he saw the hooded Englishman skulk in afterward. It was amazing how much this one idea made both kings feel like boys late for lessons. "What brings you here?"

Young Arthur grimaced a little. "It's a bit awkward, actually…There's a matter of some delicacy that's come to my attention, Uncle," he began shooting his counterpart a look. "It's not serious…at the moment, and with a little…discretion, it will stay that way."

Agravaine sat down in the chair at those words, a curious combination of interest and dread flickering through his face. "I'm listening."

"…It involves…" the younger king dropped his voice in a way that made the older one bite back a laugh. "Magic."

The man's eyebrows rose. "Yes?"

Young Arthur shut his eyes and pursed his lips before waving a hand toward the hooded figure. "…Uncle…this is King Arthur Pendragon. Arthur, this is my Uncle Agravaine."

The uncle in question knocked over his wineglass jumping to his feet, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair and his face paling as Old Arthur removed his hood. "But—but—that's—"

"Yes, yes, he looks just like me," Young Arthur said, rolling his eyes as Old Arthur chuckled. "That's because he is me, a bit."

"Do you mind if I speak?" Old Arthur grumbled, and Agravaine relaxed when he realized they didn't sound the same.

The younger king inclined his head at his elder. "Oh, please. You can explain all this so much better than I can, after all."

A wry smile graced the elder's face, making his eyes crinkle, and he suddenly looked much younger than he originally appeared. "To my understanding, there has been a bit of mix up somewhere along the way, but we'll be out of your hair before you know it."

Agravaine's already bugging eyes popped out a bit further. "We?" he wheezed.

"Calm down, Uncle," Young Arthur said, walking over and dropping a hand onto his shoulder. "He's not going to cause trouble, he promised."

"There are three of us," the older one added. "Myself, naturally, my nephew Sir Gawain—" Agravaine wheezed again, but that made sense, because he'd never liked Gwaine. "—and Gawain's squire, Terence were separated from the rest of our troop and sent here from…well, from a different Camelot, through a crossing. When the gate opens again, we'll be on our way."

"…I see," said the uncle, standing up straighter and speaking more clearly now that he was getting over the shock of seeing two Arthurs. "And when will the…the gate open again?"

The Arthurs glanced at each other, the younger one squeezing Agravaine's shoulder before releasing it and moving toward the other. "We don't know," the older said. "But apparently Squire Terence doesn't look like anyone from your Camelot, and he'll be checking every day."

"They'll be staying in Gaius' chambers and well out of the way," the younger picked up. "Everything will be fine, we can handle this. And none of them have magic. We asked before they knew it was illegal. No fear there."

"That was a bit underhanded of you," the older said with a frown. "But clever, very clever. Good job."

"…Thanks, I think."

Agravaine shook his head. "…Is there something I can do to help?"

Young Arthur tilted his head. "There isn't really anything anyone can do to help. You're my closest advisor. I wanted to be sure you knew."

They left not long after that, heading back to the physician's chambers. Alone in his rooms, Agravaine stared at the floor for a long while before grabbing a dark cloak and heading for the stables.

I apologize for the hideous quality of this chapter, but I don't like writing Agravaine and this was overdue and NaNoWriMo has eaten my brain.