Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin wriggled his way out from under Arthur’s bed and popped up, dusting himself off. Arthur made a face at him and went to sit at his desk. HIs face was creased into a brooding, irritated pout, and he picked up a knife and began fiddling with it. Merlin leaned up against the dining table facing Arthur. If he quavered every time Arthur started menacingly playing with a weapon, he would never get anything done. Arthur had a lot of weapons. Every time Merlin thought he’d polished the last one, Arthur managed to conjure new one out of somewhere. It was madness.

“So…” Merlin said, trying not to smile, “your stepmother is a troll, then.”

Arthur scowled and pointed the tip of the knife threateningly at Merlin, “If you say "I told you so"...”

“I wasn't going to. I wouldn't.” Merlin swore, holding his hands up in surrender. Arthur relaxed and went back to aimlessly twisting the hilt of the knife between his fingers. Unable to resist giving Arthur a hard time even in a situation like this, Merlin added, “But it's true that if you had listened to me earlier, then…” he trailed off as Arthur made a face at him, “Sorry. Gaius and I believe your father's been enchanted.”

“Well that much is obvious, Merlin. I could have worked that out for myself. Do you have any way of fixing it?”

“Gaius is looking into it, but I don’t think he’s found anything yet.”

Arthur sighed heavily and set his knife down in favor of leaning back in his chair, “You should leave Camelot for real, Merlin. If Catrina or my father catches you back here, there will be hell to pay for the missing seal.”

“Don’t worry about that. Gaius worked with Gwen to forge a new seal, and Morgana is going to ‘discover’ it tomorrow morning. My name will be cleared.”

“How exactly is Morgana going to ‘discover’ it somewhere that doesn’t implicate it was taken out of Catrina’s room?”

“I already snuck in and put it back.” Merlin explained and shifted his weight so he was sitting on the edge of Arthur’s dining table, “Morgana is going to go into Catrina’s chambers asking if she could borrow a bracelet she saw Catrina wear, and in the process find the seal where I hid it.”

“If Morgana gets caught out for doing this…” Arthur said threateningly.

“When has Morgana been caught at anything?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, considering, and pursed his lips, “Fair point. Light a torch, would you? I’m not sitting around with you in the dark.”

Merlin hopped down from the table and dug the flints out of the usual place in the drawer of Arthur’s wardrobe. As he struck up the first one, Arthur set his knife down for good and got up from the table. He also moved to the wardrobe, but rather than dig out flints he pulled out clothes. Instinctively, Merlin finished lighting the few torches that Arthur had in his room and moved to help Arthur dress. After several days of sneaking around the castle, hiding in barrels, and generally avoiding being spotted by anyone including Arthur, it was strange to help him dress again. It was as much a part of their daily routine as breakfast was, and going without it the last few days made Merlin’s brain itch. He constantly felt like he was forgetting something, and every time he remembered he got annoyed that Arthur had somehow become his best friend and had taken over his life. He didn’t regret it, but he also thought that Arthur had a big head about it. Arthur shrugged into his jacket and Merlin reached up to straighten the collar.

“So what do we do about Catrina and my father?” Arthur asked as he sat on the end of his bed and started pulling on boots.

Merlin shrugged helplessly, “I don’t know. Once Gaius figures out what we need to do, then we can fix it, but until then we’re stuck.”

“And you have no idea when that would be?”

“No.”

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and buried his face in one of his hands. After a moment to compose himself, he looked at Merlin with big, sad eyes. It was rare to see Arthur vulnerable like this. Merlin was sure that it only really came out around him, possibly Gwen.

“Did you hear what happened?” Arthur asked miserably.

“Your father making Catrina his heir?”

Arthur nodded.

“Once we break the enchantment, he’ll put you back.” Merlin promised, “You’ll see.”

“And in the meantime? What do I do while the two of them try to erode the people’s trust in me? What happens if you never find a way to break the enchantment? Do I go on living like an exile in my own home?”

“Arthur, we always figure it out. You and I, Gaius and I; we always figure it out.”

Arthur’s arms remained crossed over his chest and he glanced away, “I don’t understand why I can't just break it. Does my father really think so little of me that an enchantment can override every memory he has of me?”

Merlin kept his mouth shut on that one. He had his own issues with Uther. The whole magic ban was the biggest of said issues, but his treatment of Arthur was more infuriating. Arthur twisted himself in knots to try to prove himself, and as soon as he did, Uther moved the expectations again. No one else seemed to realize it. Not even Morgana who clearly saw more and more fault with Uther every time he so much as breathed.

“I think all you can do is lay low and hope neither of them do something else horrible, while Gaius and I work.” Merlin said gently.

“Thank you, Merlin. Your advice has really been invaluable in this trying time.”

“Always happy to help, Sire.”

To Merlin’s relief, Arthur snorted at that and flashed a little smile. As long as Arthur found Merlin snarking at him amusing, all hope was not lost. There was still life left in him.

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder affectionately and said, “I don’t want you trying to sneak back to Gaius’s before we clear your name. Sleep in the antechamber for tonight at least. It’s where you’re meant to be sleeping anyway.”

Merlin ignored the jab, stole one of Arthur’s cushions, and made his way into the antechamber.

The next morning they were both woken by Morgana bursting into the room. Merlin was only able to spot her from the gap between the door and the frame since Arthur had ordered him to stay hidden until it was safe, but she was in fine form. Gwen had done her hair immaculately and Morgana was practically radiating with righteous fury, exclaiming loudly so that even the guards at the opposite end of the hall could hear, “That utter cow had the seal in her room the whole time! They banished poor Merlin for stealing something that never even left her room!”

There was some perfunctory attempts from Arthur to calm her down, but she continued on like she hadn’t heard him and Arthur didn’t do much to stop her. They were both aware of the fact that as many people as possible needed to hear that Morgana had found the missing seal. It would make it harder for Catrina and Uther to dismiss. She waved a hand emphatically, and Merlin caught a glimpse of the falsified seal that Gwen had made still clutched in Morgana’s hand. Even better. She could present it to everyone at court. It would go a long way to undermining Catrina’s position with everyone. At this point, the entire court knew she was a troll but no one had found a way to make Uther push back against her. A weakened position on the throne might be the only thing that could make him stand up to her troll magic.

Merlin heard Arthur sigh loudly and say, “I’ll speak to father about it. Hold onto that and go outside while I get dressed.”

Morgana swept out of the room like a hurricane and slammed the door behind her. Arthur hopped out of bed, still fully dressed except for his boots. As he sat to pull them on, Merlin opened the door and came out of the antechamber. Arthur looked up and fixed Merlin with a mildly impressed expression, “I have to hand it to you, Merlin, that plan worked better than I thought it would.”

“You’re always doubting me.” Merlin said as he watched Arthur struggle with sliding his heel into his boot, “Just once, it would be nice if you believed me first time through.”

“Tell you what,” Arthur said as he hopped up, “I’ll consider your ramblings more closely than I have in the past. Happy?”

“Deliriously. Truly, I did not know peace until now.”

Arthur shook his head, made his ‘shut up, Merlin’ face, and then left the room. Merlin waited until he heard the changing of the guard, and used the distraction to slip out and make his way back to Gaius. There was still plenty of research to do. He could hide away in there until it had been long enough for the news of his name being cleared to reach him where he was supposed to be. He made it back to Gaius unseen, and without looking up Gaius handed him one of the thick tomes to read on creatures of the old religion.

Arthur came in a few hours later, announced that Catrina had been forced to back down regarding Merlin’s guilt, and also picked up a book to start reading.

*

After two weeks of research they hadn’t gotten any further. Gwen and Morgana had also joined in the research about a week in and came to read a few chapters in between duties. Gaius burned through more candles in that two week period than Merlin had ever seen used. Arthur was still expected to do his duties as first knight. Apparently being removed as heir didn’t mean he got to stop training his men. He was still expected to arrive down at the training green bright and early every day. He also researched when he could, finding time in between training and endless tasks assigned by Uther to prove Arthur’s respect for him. Not even Merlin, who had to both look after Arthur and look after destiny, worked as hard as Arthur did those two weeks. At the end of those weeks, Merlin returned to Arthur’s service. They had given it a week to reach him, figuring it would take that long to cross over Camelot’s borders and a week for Merlin to travel back. The first time he was spotted in the courtyard with Arthur after his ‘return’, he caught eyes with Catrina. Or the troll who was still going by the name Catrina. She glared at him like she was planning to rip his throat out with her tusks.

Merlin raised his eyebrows at her challengingly. Let her come. She and Jonas had already failed to kill him once. Now that he was wise to her tricks, she wouldn’t succeed.

When Arthur saw, he smacked Merlin on the back of the head and hissed, “What happened to lying low? Don’t taunt her you great idiot.”

Merlin rubbed the back of his head and narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. Arthur made an apologetic face and then shuffled Merlin along into the castle, like getting him out of Catrina’s line of sight would protect him from her wrath. It didn’t matter. Merlin could feel her eyes burning into the back of his head. She was planning something. Luckily, Merlin was there for whatever she tried. Merlin had kept Arthur safe this long, and he would do so until he died. He wasn’t exaggerating when he’d said he would be happy to be Arthur’s servant for the rest of his life. It wasn’t just that he thought Arthur would be a good king one day, it was that Arthur was a good man now. He was the best friend he'd ever had, including Will. He would protect Arthur the way he couldn’t protect Will.

*

Night descended over Camelot. Deep indigo crept into every corner, banished only by the bright orange of the torches illuminating Arthur’s room. Arthur sat at his desk, brooding silently. Merlin was in front of the fire, polishing Arthur’s favorite sword. A truce and tentative peace had formed between them and the troll. Catrina couldn’t make a move against Arthur so soon after stripping him of his princehood, and she couldn’t make a move against Merlin after he’d cleared his own name. Doing so would have forced her into calling Morgana’s intentions into question, and that simply wouldn’t do. Uther trusted Morgana implicitly, even if he shouldn’t. He was still unaware of her recent attempt to kill him. Point being, Merlin and Arthur couldn’t move against Catrina without angering Uther, and Catrina couldn’t move against them for the same reason. As it was they all glared at each other as they passed in the hallways, and Arthur continued to try to run interference for the people where he could. Mostly that meant going to the lower town the day before another round of collections and telling people to be conveniently absent from their homes before the guards could call on them. Gaius had hit a wall with the texts he had in his library and had started drafting a petition for Geoffrey to allow him access to the tomes in the vaults below Camelot. Both parties were in a holding pattern.

The door to Arthur’s room crashed open, shattering the fragile silence. Merlin startled badly enough that he nearly sliced his thumb off on Arthur’s sword. He brought the base of his thumb to his lips and nursed it to try to ease the sting of the cut. Arthur was on his feet, brandishing a dinner knife. Catrina stood in the door way. Her short, squat body took up the entirety of the doorframe and her stench of dung pressed its way into Merlin’s nose even when he held his breath to avoid it. Her gray skin was clouded over with substances better left unknown.

“What are you doing here, Catrina?” Arthur asked, clutching his dinner knife like it would provide any protection against a creature of the old religion.

Catrina smiled, a disturbing sight with the combination of thick, gummy lips and pointed tusks, and she waddled a few steps closer to Arthur, “I’ve come with a new announcement from your father.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Tell me what you enchanted him to say and get out.”

“We’ve decided that if you’re no longer heir, then there should be no reason for you to continue with any of your duties. You’re not royal anymore. You can’t be a knight, and you can't stay in the castle.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’ve decided to be generous.” Catrina the troll continued, “You have been given permission to reside in the lower town and you can visit your father once a month. That’s more than fair for a man who has no title.”

Arthur ground his teeth together and stepped around his desk. Without taking his eyes off her, he picked up his sword from where it had tumbled haphazardly to Merlin’s lap when he’d cut himself. “Lift the enchantment on my father, or I’ll kill you.”

“That won’t fix anything. He’s been under my spell for too long, Arthur boy, he’s still going to be in love with me when I’m dead.”

“But at least you won’t continue whispering in his ear. Lift the enchantment.”

Catrina tilted her head like she was considering it, then shrugged and said, “So be it.”

Arthur was suddenly slammed back across the room. Catrina stood where Arthur once had, and Merlin was left recovering from the shock. He’d never expected her to move that fast. He jumped to his feet and stretched out his hand, prepared to hurl a spell at her. She whipped round with a growl. One moment Merlin was standing next to the chair, the next he was on his back several feet away with his chest aching like a mace had slammed into it. With a groan he staggered to his feet. Across the room, Arthur did the same. Catrina turned on Arthur again, reaching out with her massive hands. He slashed at her with his sword but it barely broke the surface of her skin. She tossed his sword away like it was a child’s toy and got her hands around his throat. He made a horrible gasping noise as he tried to get air into his lungs.

“Guards!” Merlin shouted once he got his breath back, “Guards!”

As he shouted it, he knew they wouldn't get there in time. Even if they did, there would be nothing they could do to stop a troll. It was down to Merlin. He once more extended his hand and shouted the first spell he could think of. It struck Catrina square in the back. She was ripped away from Arthur, her claws scratching into his cheek as she flew, and she impacted the wall with a sickly thud and a snap. Arthur was gasping and heaving, braced against the corner of his desk. Merlin ignored him for the moment and ran to look at the troll’s body. He neck was bent at an unnatural angle and there was no light in her eyes. Merlin pressed a hand over his mouth to keep from hurling, and went to check on Arthur.

Arthur’s hand shot out as he approached and Merlin stumbled to a halt a few steps away. Arthur glared at him suspiciously and gasped out hoarsely, “Magic.”

Merlin’s heart sunk, “I’m… It’s… Please, Arthur, I only wanted to help…”

His stumbling explanation was cut off by the arrival of the guards and Uther. Uther took one look at the troll lying dead on the ground and rounded on Arthur, growling, “What happened to her?”

“She… came…” Arthur’s voice was painfully hoarse and he had to take long breaks between words. He was lucky Catrina hadn’t crushed his throat altogether. “To… give me... Your… message… Sorcerer… attacked... fled… down the… hall.”

The rage of an escaped sorcerer overpowered Uther’s anger about the death of his wife, and he sent the guards running to go find the sorcerer who killed her. All the while, the sorcerer responsible was hovering anxiously nearby. Uther didn’t pause to see if Arthur was alright. He charged out of the room right behind the guards, intent on killing the sorcerer himself.

Silence fell as they waited for someone to come take care of the body.

“Thank you.” Merlin said softly, “For not turning me in.”

“Still furious.” Arthur rasped out, “You lied to me.”

“I know.”

Chapter Text

The revelation of Merlin’s magic was overshadowed. Three days after the fight against Catrina, Uther called a meeting. Merlin entered the throne room before Arthur did. Arthur had been avoiding Merlin for the last few days. It made him nervous, but he wasn’t overly worried. If Arthur truly hated him, he would have turned him in the day it happened. It wasn’t the first time that the two of them had a conflict and Arthur needed some time to collect his thoughts. Arthur was the last one to enter the throne room. Uther was already waiting, sitting on his throne. Arthur came to a stop a few paces from the dais. His hands rested on his hips, and he met his father’s gaze evenly.

Uther got to his feet and stared down at Arthur, “I wished to speak with you about what happened three days ago.”

“You mean when I was attacked by a sorcerer who broke into my room?” Somehow his eyes never strayed to look at Merlin.

“When you let that sorcerer escape.”

“I hardly think I let the sorcerer do anything.” Arthur protested, “He strangled me.”

“Are you not the first knight of Camelot?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Is it not your duty to train others to fight well and be able to defend themselves against all threats?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“So tell me, Arthur, if you could not protect yourself from a man trying to strangle you, then what use are you as first knight? If you could not protect your stepmother, our queen, then why should I consider you still the finest knight in Camelot?”

Arthur stiffened, “He was using magic.”

“That is neither here, nor there. You should have died to protect your stepmother, and yet you still stand here alive and well except for some bruises.”

“My stepmother was a troll!”

“How dare you speak of such a fine woman that way! She was nothing but honorable and beautiful!”

“How can a troll be any of those things!”

“That is enough!” Uther shouted and only Arthur didn’t flinch, “Clearly the attack has addled your brain. It was your duty to protect Camelot. You failed to complete that duty. You are no longer my heir, but you are still my son and I still love you. So I will be lenient in my punishment for you. You will not be held in the dungeons or given a home in the lower town. You will remain here, in the castle, in your room.

“I’m being held prisoner?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“Keep questioning my orders, and I will cease to be lenient. You will stay in your room unless you are being escorted by protective guard. If you can’t defend yourself, then guards will be required to be posted at your door, and you will give up your swords. You will be allowed no visitors except for your manservant.”

“Father, please, you’ve been enchanted.”

Uther’s face hardened and he stepped threateningly towards the edge of the dais, “This is your final warning. It is your room, or the dungeons.”

Arthur looked back at him, standing as dumb struck as the rest of the crowd. Merlin knew Uther could be harsh. He’d been on the receiving end of Uther’s mild irritation more than once, and now couldn’t stand even the sight of tomatoes let alone the taste or smell. He was intimately acquainted with the stocks. Uther’s rage was a wildfire. It burned through anyone and anything that got in his way. His rage had sparked the Great Purge. But this was the first time Merlin had seen Arthur on the receiving end of Uther’s rage. Morgana had begun to relish in it, and was straying further and further from him every day. As such his threats against her had long since stopped working. Arthur, however, tried every day to try to make Uther proud. Merlin had never seen Arthur on the receiving end of Uther’s rage until Catrina’s arrival. Disdain, yes. Disapproval as well. Rage was new, and Merlin was amazed that Arthur wasn’t buckling under the force of it.

“Am I to be escorted now?” Arthur asked in a clipped voice.

Uther didn’t bother to answer verbally. He gestured for the guards. They approached Arthur hesitantly, like they weren’t sure that they should be escorting the Prince of Camelot to his chambers. As soon as one of them grabbed Arthur’s arm, Arthur shook him off and turned on his heel. He strode out of the throne room like he was leading the guards rather than being escorted.

Gaius nudged Merlin and said in a low voice, “You better go after him.”

Merlin nodded and slipped out of the double doors as they were still closing. The rest of the assembled crowd was still murmuring among themselves as he left. He kept a few paces behind Arthur and the guards as they walked. The guards seemed even less certain now that they were out of sight of Uther. They stayed several steps back from Arthur as he marched to his room. Once they arrived, Arthur turned, unbuckled his belt, and handed over sword. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard. One of the guards hesitantly accepted it and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, Prince Arthur.” one of the guards said, “We all know something strange is afoot.”

Arthur’s expression softened a little, “I understand. Inserting yourself on my behalf would put you in danger. You’re doing your job.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

The guards stepped back and Merlin poked his head around the door. He offered Arthur a questioning look, and Arthur rolled his eyes and gestured for Merlin to come inside. Merlin stepped in and the guards closed the door behind them. A moment later there was the sound of a key scraping in the lock. Arthur was being locked in.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” Merlin asked.

Arthur blew out a long, heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over his face, “I hoped that once Catrina was dead, he’d be free. Or that he would start to remember me and it would break the enchantment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing you could do.” Arthur paused and then glanced up at Merlin, “There was nothing you could do, right? No... Special trick?”

Merlin shook his head apologetically, “Without knowing the counter enchantment, there’s nothing I could do. I thought revealing her as a troll would do the trick, but it didn’t.”

A small smile quirked the corner of Arthur’s lips, “That was your fault?”

“I replaced the potion she was using with a non-magical one Gaius made.”

Arthur snorted a laugh and shook his head affectionately.

Everything was okay between them again.

*

Arthur spent the first week of his imprisonment relaxing. Whenever Merlin entered or left Arthur’s room, Arthur was lounging in bed or in the chair in front of his fireplace. The nights were too warm for Merlin to light a fire, but that didn’t seem to matter. He still brought Arthur baths, but it was much easier now that he could use magic in front of him without risking his life. Arthur made no effort to do anything but simply enjoy the break he’d been given.

By week two his serene attitude had faded. He paced his room like an animal caught in a cage. With his door locked, it was safe for Merlin to use his magic freely, and Arthur demanded Merlin use his magic for entertainment. Merlin lit a fire in the fire place and used the sparks to illustrate the stories he was told as a child. When the room grew too hot, Merlin practiced using the flames of candles to do the same thing. It was much harder. Arthur often stared broodily out the window, the side of his thumb pressed against his lips so that the metal of his ring pressed into it. In those moods, there was nothing Merlin could do to draw him out of himself. He left Arthur to it. There were constant complaints about boredom. Merlin suspected Arthur had not held still for longer than it took to sleep or recover from an injury since he was old enough to hold a sword.

At the end of the second week, Merlin had run out of chores to do. With no armor to polish, swords to sharpen, or horses to muck out, Merlin was left nearly as bored as Arthur. Geoffrey still hadn’t approved Gaius’ petition to access the tomes kept in the vaults. It likely wouldn’t be approved. Not with Uther on the tear. Merlin heard the rumors in drips and drabs when he fetched Arthur’s meals. Uther was enacting higher taxes. He’d never stopped people from taking justice into their own hands when it came to magic, but Catrina’s death sparked his hatred anew. He had enacted a law that let anyone execute someone suspected of sorcery. People didn’t leave their houses if they didn’t have to. They were concerned about being jumped. Either by someone who decided to settle a grudge with accusations of magic, or by the debt collectors Uther had hired to enforce the tax laws. Merlin brought none of this news to Arthur. It would only hurt him. He loved Camelot; possibly more than himself.

Eventually, Arthur grew bored of Merlin’s magic. Something that Merlin had only dreamed of happening. The joy of finally being known by his best friend was soured by the return of the whining. Books of poetry that Merlin brought from the library didn’t hold Arthur’s attention. Nor did the histories or the great epics. What Arthur wanted was a sword and to join his men for training. That wasn’t going to happen. In a fit of desperation, Merlin brought Arthur dice.

Arthur raised his eyebrow disbelievingly, “You want to play dice?”

“Not for real money. Neither of us have any.”

“I still have a stash of coin in my wardrobe. We’ll use those symbolically.”

Merlin went to Arthur’s wardrobe and retrieved the coin pouch. He used his magic to clean and dry a couple of tin cups that hadn’t yet been sent back down to the kitchen, and he and Arthur set up in front of the fireplace. The fire remained unlit. This late in summer it only would have made the room hot.

Arthur rolled his dice first and said, “I don’t know why you’re challenging me. I’m a better liar than you are.”

“Are you?” Merlin teased.

“Oh shut up. Keeping your magic a secret doesn’t count when I always knew there was something odd about you.”

“If you say so, Sire.”

“Two fours.”

“Liar.”

It went on like that for some time. Merlin cheated on Arthur’s behalf. If Arthur guessed he was lying, then he dropped his head and used his magic to shift the dice to different numbers. He did the same in reverse if Arthur thought he was telling the truth. He let Arthur get it wrong just often enough to keep him from growing suspicious. By the time Merlin had finally lost all of his coin, it was late at night.

Arthur flopped onto his back on the floor and said in the direction of the ceiling, “I keep thinking I should go to sleep. It’s been almost a month, and I still think I should be getting up in time for training.”

“It will get better, Arthur.” Merlin promised solemnly, “Gaius and I haven’t given up. Neither should you.”

“What am I supposed to do now? I’ve been stripped of title, my honor, and my personhood. Tell me, Merlin, how I’m meant to remain hopeful in the face of all of this.”

“I don’t know.”

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows with a curious frown, “You don’t know.”

“I wish I did.” Merlin said with a small shrug, “But I don’t. Any other time there has been a magic threat to Camelot, I’ve been able to fix it within a week or two. It’s been almost two months since Catrina arrived, and I still haven’t solved it.”

“How many other threats have you fixed?”

“I lost count after the first six months.”

“All the things you’ve done for Camelot, and only Gaius and I know.”

“I don’t do it for credit.” Merlin said sharply, “I do it for you because you’re my friend.”

“I know.” Arthur said and sat up again. He squeezed Merlin’s upper arm bracingly, “You’ve been a steadfast and loyal friend. I’m sorry it took me being locked up before I recognized it.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Just accept the apology.”

Merlin snorted, “Apology accepted.”

*

Uther left Camelot. It was only a short trip out to a nearby estate to check on a report from a lord. Merlin seized his opportunity while he had it. He tracked Gwen down bright and early the first morning. She was just leaving Morgana’s room with a basket of Laundry.

“I need your help.” he said in a breathless rush.

“What now?” she asked with an amused smile.

“How do you feel about defying the spirit of Uther’s decree?”

“If it’s for Arthur, I’ll do it.” she said earnestly, “The way he’s been treated lately is just awful.”

“I need you to get a message to Leon to meet me at the door to Arthur’s room. Tell him to bring an extra sword, and tell him that if the guards question why he’s there to say that he’s been ordered to check on Arthur in Uther’s absence.”

“Do you think he’ll agree to lie? He was Uther’s man before he was Arthur’s.”

“I heard from one of the kitchen maids that he’s been getting into arguments with the other knights at the Rising Sun on Arthur’s behalf.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“Can you smuggle up some of those honey cakes he likes? Cook won’t let me anywhere in the kitchen except for the wash for clothes, and the prepared tray for Arthur. He’s been on weak broth and one piece of bread a day since he was imprisoned.”

“I’ll say they’re for Morgana.”

“Thank you, Gwen.”

After the conversation with Gwen, life got a little better for Arthur. Leon kept the secret and provided Arthur with a sword and an opportunity for training against a proper opponent. Gwen got ahold of a whole tray of honey cakes that Merlin wrapped up to keep fresh. When Morgana found out that people were defying Uther, she took it in stride. She terrified the guards into letting her into Arthur’s room. The two of them managed to get into a row within a few minutes of seeing each other, but Arthur was smiling when she left. Even though Leon was not willing to risk returning for another training session, Arthur was much happier with a sword back in his hand. He returned to all the exercises he used to do with his knights. They weren’t as effective without a training dummy or an opponent, but it was better than nothing. Arthur took it upon himself to teach Merlin how to fight with a sword, claiming, “What happens if you lose your magic? You should be able to defend yourself with sword and sinew as well.”

The happy bubble created by Morgana’s bullying and Gwen’s cleverness deflated when Uther returned home. They had to be more careful or risk being caught. Merlin hadn’t seen either woman in five days. Another five days after that, the bubble popped. He finally ran into Gwen by accident. She happened to be at the water pump at the same time he needed to use it. When she saw him, relief flooded her face.

“Is Arthur okay?” she asked, clenching his wrist tightly.

“Still annoyed by being locked away but other than that, yeah he is fine.”

“Oh thank god. Morgana and I were so worried.”

“Why?”

“Uther has been telling everyone for the last few days that Arthur has been taken seriously ill.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.”

Merlin frowned and set his empty bucket down, “I think I should let Arthur know.”

Gwen nodded, “Morgana said Uther wouldn’t even let her check on him. He claimed Arthur was too contagious.”

“I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I found out.” Merlin swore.

He abandoned his bucket at the water pump and raced back inside. His brain flipped through the possibilities as he jogged. There were only so many reasons Uther might claim Arthur was ill. It might be something innocuous like a noble was planning to visit, and Uther didn’t want to admit he’d had to lock up his own son. Or it might be something much worse. He burst into Arthur’s room without knocking. Arthur looked up from the book he was reading, took in the lack of bucket and rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, I think you can manage a bucket.”

Merlin closed the door behind himself and pressed his back against it. The guards never breached the door, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances. “You father has been telling everyone you’ve taken ill.”

“I don’t understand.” Arthur frowned, “I’m fighting fit.”

“I just ran into Gwen at the water pump. She said that he even told Morgana that you were ill, and said she couldn’t check on you because you were too contagious.”

Arthur fell silent and leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his desk. Eventually he lowered his hands and fiddled with his ring. He was still lost deep in thought. It took several moments, but then he looked directly at Merlin.

“Am I mad,” he said slowly, “or does it sound like my father is getting ready to have me killed?”

Merlin sunk back against Arthur’s dining table. He’d been avoiding that particular thought, but now there was no getting around it. No rumors had gone around about a noble visiting, or any other rumor that might provide an alternate explanation. Uther would only need Arthur to fall conveniently ill if he needed an excuse to be rid of Arthur.

“Do you really want to stay and find out?”

Chapter Text

“I need a horse.” Arthur said as he paced the room, “It’s my best chance of putting distance between myself and Camelot.

“If you ride a horse out of the citadel, you’ll be noticed.” Merlin pointed out, “Someone will alert Uther to the fact you took a horse and fled. Besides, neither of us is allowed in the stables any longer. How would we even saddle a horse?”

“Can’t you.” Arthur paused and made a strange gesture next to his head with his fingers, “Knock them out.”

It took a second for Merlin to process what Arthur was asking. “You want me to use my magic to put everyone to sleep?”

“The sorceress did it that time at the feast.”

“Arthur, I’d have to knock out the entire Citadel to keep you from being spotted. I’m not sure--”

“What if we asked Morgana to take a horse for us? She could saddle it up, ride it out, and then walk back.”

“And say what?”

“That it was spooked by a snake, threw her, and ran off.”

“Not the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Merlin agreed. “Especially if you don’t leave straight after she was thrown. If you wait a couple days, then that would work. Uther wouldn’t suspect her involvement.”

“But that leaves my horse in the woods for several days. Anything could happen to it in that time.”

“So maybe we stop thinking of the horse idea.”

“What if I stayed in the darkling woods for a day and Morgana brings my horse to me?”

Merlin didn’t say a word. He would let Arthur come to the ridiculous nature of that plan on his own. If the plan was to put as much distance between himself and Camelot as possible, then hanging around in the woods waiting defeated the entire purpose. It was stupid. In deference to the fact that Arthur was going through it, Merlin just looked at him. It was a testament to the dire straits that he didn’t take the opportunity to mock. Arthur was coming from a place of desperation, and that was useless for planning an escape. He wouldn’t stay in that panic for long. Merlin had seen Arthur with a sword to his neck and still icily in control of the situation. It was the threat of Uther hanging over them. That had to be what was upsetting Arthur this much.

“I know.” Arthur said tiredly, “Defeats the purpose.”

“Think of it this way.” Merlin said bracingly, “You can climb through terrain a horse can’t. That will make you harder to track if Uther sends men after you.”

Arthur nodded and finally stopped pacing. He sunk into his seat at the table and collapsed forward onto the top. He cushioned his chins on his folded arms. “He won’t want me free. It doesn’t matter if I never return to Camelot, he’ll see me as a threat to his rule as soon as I escape. That means he’ll come for me.”

“Then you have to be sneaky.”

“I also need supplies. I can take my gold with me, but I shouldn’t spend it if I don’t have to. That will only attract attention and get me attacked by bandits.”

“I can sneak you a pack, I think.” Merlin said, wracking his brain for solutions to Arthur’s problems, “I’m on good enough terms with the knights and the armorer that they won’t think twice about me sneaking into the armory. They’ll think I was sent there to make up for my reduced duties.”

“Well that solves the issue with how to carry supplies but not how to get them.”

“I’ll steal provisions.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said gently, “you’re a loyal friend and I admit more adept with magic than I thought, but I can't ask you to put yourself at risk for me.”

“You would do the same for me, if I was the one who needed to run away. You already have, the day you left Camelot to get the flower, or the time you drank what you thought was poisoned so that I wouldn’t.” Merlin said and leaned forward, “I’m not doing this out of a sense of servant duty, I’m doing this because you’re my friend and I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur’s answering smile was crooked and fond, full of wonder. Merlin smiled back.

“The real trick,” Merlin continued, “is making sure I can smuggle out supplies for myself too.”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“But--”

“No, Merlin.” Arthur sat up and pointed fiercely in Merlin’s face, “It’s bad enough that you’re sneaking around putting yourself in danger to get these supplies for me. If you come with me, my father would know that you helped me escape and you’ll be a target just as much as I am.”

“I don’t want to stay in Camelot without you. I’ve followed you everywhere before, I’m not going to stop now.”

“Stop being an idiot for a few seconds and think. If my father thinks you helped me escape, that is also going to implicate Gaius and Gwen because he knows they’re fond of you. In the state he’s in, do you think he’ll politely ask them what they know, or do you think he’ll resort to extreme measures.”

Merlin deflated at the thought of his friends in trouble. He’d never wanted to put his friends in danger, but Arthur had a point. Uther wasn’t level headed at the best of times. Under the troll’s influence, he was mad. His cruelty and vindictiveness had been amplified by whatever magic the troll had used. Most of the lower town still resembled a ghost town. Just yesterday, Merlin had heard that a debt collector had dragged a pregnant woman out of her home while her young children watched on. No. He couldn’t put Gwen or Gaius in the crossfire. This was one time he would have to hang back. As much as he hated it.

“Let’s pick a meeting point.” Merlin suggested, “In a few months, once everything has calmed down and no one suspects any of us of helping you, I’ll come meet you.”

“I’ll pass through Ealdor.” Arthur said, “My father still doesn’t know that we went there, and your mother seemed to like me.”

“She takes in strays.”

“Regardless, the faster I get over the border into another kingdom, the harder it will be for my father to drag me back. Essetir is closest, and I can properly stock my supplies when I stop in Ealdor. I’ll also decided where my final stopping point is, and I’ll let Hunith know. That way if my father does suspect you, you can genuinely say you don’t know where I’m headed.”

“Then in a few months, I’ll leave to visit my mother, and she’ll be able to tell me where you were going.”

“Exactly.”

Merlin nodded. If he only needed to get Arthur supplies to last him until Ealdor, then that was much easier. He could just skip a few dinners and turn that into the food Arthur needed. He wouldn’t have to sneak into the kitchen to steal. The only trick now was to figure out how to get Arthur out of the tower when the door was heavily guarded. The guards that brought Arthur there might have been inclined to look the other way, but Uther had since stationed older guards outside. The king that were loyal to their king before they were loyal to anyone else. Walking out Arthur’s door wasn’t an option.

His eyes flicked around the room as he tried to come up with a reasonable solution to their problem. He spotted the window. He’d used it to spy on Catrina. He knew he could fit his shoulders out of it at the very least. Maybe, if they were lucky... He stood and crossed the room.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, face scrunched in confusion.

Merlin ignored him. He unlatched the window and leaned out of it. It was a long drop to the ground, but if they opened both panes, Arthur could squeeze through. Surely getting a rope couldn’t be that hard. All it would take would be lowering Arthur to the ground. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur, “How do you feel about climbing out your window?”

Arthur stood and crossed the room as well. He leaned out the opening, keeping a hand firmly braced on the frame so he wouldn’t fall. Like Merlin would ever let him. He’d magic Arthur to safety. “I think you’ve been holding out on me.” Arthur said with admiration, “Who knew you had such a keen mind.”

“It was easier to hide in plain sight if I looked like an idiot.” Merlin said, “I’m only an idiot about five percent of the time.”

“How do I get to the ground?”

“I think Gaius has rope in his chambers. If not, I can take it from the armory when I steal a pack for you.”

“Then we have our plan. Let’s just hope it works.”

*

Merlin approached the armory and found it unlocked, but with the armorer still inside. He looked up as Merlin entered and straightened up from the ledger he’d been bent over.

“Haven’t seen you in here in some time, Merlin.” he said, sounding friendly enough, “I’m afraid I can't give you the prince’s sword back.”

That was fine. Arthur’s sword was safely in Arthur’s chambers. Leon hadn’t asked for it back after the day he came to help Arthur with training, and Merlin had snuck in to replace it with a sword that Gwen’s father had made and was going to discard because the weight was off. Apparently, no one was the wiser.

“I’m not after his sword.” Merlin said, “I’ve been temporarily assigned to Sir Geraint while his squire visits home.”

“I wasn’t aware that Geraint had asked for a replacement.”

“It was a last minute thing. He might decide tomorrow that he doesn’t need my help at all.”

Merlin had been planning on no one being inside when he arrived. Now he was going to have to smuggle out Arthur’s chainmail, and polish Geraint’s to sell the lie. If it got back to Uther that Merlin had been there, he would be the first person he tracked down to gain information on Arthur’s whereabouts. He needed to be above suspicion. If he gave Geraint his mail, then at least Geraint and the armorer would write it off as a misunderstanding brought on by an absent minded servant. Arthur calling him an idiot for all these years paid off.

To his immense relief, the armorer waved his hand. Merlin crossed the room and lifted out Sir Geraint’s chainmail. He waited until the armorer’s back was turned, and grabbed Arthur’s as well, tucking it under Geraint’s and using magic to make it look like he was only carrying one. His plan to steal a pack from the armory was also not going to happen. No excuses he could come up with explained why the pack was not returned after being used. He’d have to give Arthur his own pack and steal one when he left Camelot in a few months. At least by then, a servant stealing a pack would be the least of Uther’s concerns. Merlin waved goodnight to the armorer and left.

He used his magic to polish Sir Geraint’s chainmail while he retrieved his own pack from under his bed and started cramming things into it for Arthur. He’d forgone bread, cheese, and apple any time Gaius served them. Instead he’d squirreled them away for this purpose. He grabbed anything he thought Arthur might need; a needle and thread, a small jar of wax, a flint. His pack was bulging by the time he got all the food in with the chainmail, but seeing as he planned to help Arthur into the chainmail before he snuck out, the bulge would vanish and not slow Arthur down. He finished polishing the chainmail, grabbed a length of rope Gaius had coiled away for future use, and slipped into the hallway. He stayed as close to the walls as he could, traveling using the shadows so that he wasn’t as obvious.

Upon reaching Sire Geraint's room, he ditched the pack in an alcove and knocked on Geraint’s door. After a moment, Geraint opened and peered bleary eyed down at Merlin. “What’s this?”

“I was asked to step in for Almeir while he was away. I polished your chainmail.” Merlin said brightly and handed it over.

Geraint accepted it, then asked slowly, “Who told you to step in for Almeir?”

“I heard it from another servant.”

“While I appreciate the effort you put in, I have no need of replacement for Almeir. There must have been some confusion.”

“Oh.” Merlin said with a shrug, “Well, enjoy clean chainmail anyway.”

With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. As soon as Geraint closed the door, Merlin doubled back and retrieved the pack. If anyone asked, he was going to say Gaius’s usual medicine bag was out for repair, and Merlin borrowed a pack to delivery nightly remedies. If anyone asked why it was so bulky, he planned to say that he stuffed it with rags to protect the glass bottles. The rope was coiled around his middle underneath his shirt.

Thankfully, he made it to Arthur’s chambers without incident. The guards were the only problem. They weren’t going to move, and Merlin would be too obvious going in with a pack like that. He stayed back, hugged close to the wall, and extended his hand. The shadows moved together in a big blob and rushed down the opposite corridor. It didn’t matter that it didn’t look like a person. The guards only saw movement at the edge of their vision. As expected, they ran after it to try to catch the intruder. Merlin emerged from his hiding spot, used a spell to unlock the door, and slipped inside.

Arthur stopped pacing, grabbed Merlin by the shoulder and wrangled him inside, and locked the door behind him. “Did you get everything?”

Merlin handed over the pack and began unwinding the rope from his middle. Arthur crammed an extra tunic, a blanket, and a water skin into the pack and strapped everything in place. Merlin helped him don his chainmail. Arthur helped him anchor the rope around the bed post. Then they stood frozen next to the open window. If all went well, this would be the last time they saw each other for quite some time.

In an uncharacteristic show of affection, Arthur pulled Merlin into a hug. Merlin wrapped his arms tight around Arthur’s shoulders and held on. He was doing the right thing by helping Arthur escape, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to miss the bastard while he was gone.

“I’ll see you in a few months.” Arthur said as he pulled away, “Don’t be late.”

“Am I ever?”

Arthur snorted, wrapped the rope around his hands so he wouldn’t slip, and lowered himself out of the window. In the morning, all that would be discovered would be the rope and the open window. Prince Arthur had run away.

*

It took less than a day for the story to reach the rest of Camelot. Morgana, as planned, showed up the next morning, demanding to see Arthur. When the guards wouldn’t let her in, she stole their keys and let herself in. The guards didn’t dare touch her to stop her. She was still Uther’s favorite even in his state. Merlin watched in amusement as she gasped dramatically, and started throwing accusations involving rope and missing princes. If she ever decided to run away herself, she might make a killing as a traveling performer.

Gwen took her role in the plan just as seriously. Whenever Merlin spotted her out of the corner of his eye, she was wearing a stricken, worried expression. She would nervously babble, to anyone who would listen, about how she hoped Arthur was okay. And wasn’t it just awful that he might not be safe? The servants gossiped more than anyone else in the castle. They told each other what happened, and they told their masters and mistresses what happened as well. Everyone knew that Prince Arthur was missing. A few servants asked Merlin about it, but all he would say was that Arthur thought he was an idiot and wouldn’t trust him with delicate plans even if he had been trying to escape.

The unexpected consequence to this was a sharp drop in Uther’s popularity. Thanks to Morgana’s vague accusations involving rope, and Gwen’s constant hand wringing, a new rumor got started. Everyone had been well aware that Uther and his son no longer saw eye to eye on important matters, and that Uther’s cruelty had suddenly taken a sharp turn. More than once, Merlin heard rumblings that accused Uther of killing Arthur. The detail of the rope got blown out of proportion. Suddenly, everyone in the lower town was convince that Uther had had Arthur hanged. On his rounds with Gaius, Merlin heard more and more people convinced that the escape had been staged to cover up for Arthur’s disappearance. Even the people who had been in support of their king were turning against him. They could excuse Uther’s high demands and strict rule as their King’s will, but to them there was no reason to have Arthur killed. He was already locked up, had already been stripped of titles and privileges, and had not actually committed a crime. Killing his own son under those circumstances was a bridge too far. Other than the council members, and everyone Merlin had clued in, no one was aware that Catrina was actually a troll.

The plan had worked differently than they intended, but it worked infinitely better. It didn’t even occur to the knights to send out a search party for Arthur. Despite being above the gossip of their servants, even the knights were at least partially convinced that Uther had something to do with the sudden disappearance. Although most of them thought Arthur had just been banished, and Uther was using the escape to further prove Arthur’s cowardice.

Merlin just prayed that, wherever he was now, Arthur was safe.

Chapter Text

Merlin was woken by the sound of bells. He awoke with a start and raised his head from his pillow. The world around him was barely light out. In the past, he would have already been up and dressed, but with Arthur gone, Merlin was left to sleep until Gaius decided Merlin needed to get up and go about his day. He had not been awake this early in a while.

He swung out of bed, and stumbled half asleep through getting dressed. He slid on his jacket and staggered down the steps into the workshop. Gaius was also awake, looking equally confused as Merlin felt. The bells continued to ring, and Merlin’s first thought was that someone was attacking Camelot again. There were no screams of terror or the shouts of knights reacting to a crisis. Whatever the bells were for, it wasn’t for an emergency.

“I suppose we should see what that’s about.” Gaius said and pushed himself to his feet.

The two of them left Gaius’s chambers. Servants, courtiers, and knights alike were wandering the halls of the castle in various states of dishevelment. Most hadn’t had time yet to brush their hair, and many of them were still in their nightclothes, Merlin spotted Morgana and Gwen just down the hall and went to join them. Morgana was still in her nightdress with her hair loose around her shoulders. To make up for the lack of modesty, she’d thrown a fur wrap over the top. Gwen was dressed in one of her day dresses. She likely had changed just as quickly as Merlin had. As casually as he could, he slotted himself alongside Gwen and continued to shuffle on in silence next to her. Once he was sure no one around them was paying any attention to them, he turned to his friends.

In a low voice, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“We’re not sure.” Gwen answered, keeping her voice equally as soft, “I heard the bells and came to check on Morgana, and when I got there, Uther was leaving.”

Without turning her head, Morgana said, “All I know is that Uther said he had an announcement to make. I don’t know on what subject.”

Merlin nodded, and slowed his steps. It gave Gaius time to catch up with him. He passed on the information Morgana had given him. Gaius’s mouth pinched with worry and his frown was ominous. “Let’s just hope that whatever he has to say isn’t about Arthur.”

Merlin’s heart sunk. He hadn’t even considered that Uther might be following up on Arthur after all this time. It had been over a month. Surely by now, with no search parties sent out, Uther had let it go. It’s not as though he wanted Arthur in the castle. He’d made that clear enough. If Uther had heard the rumors about murdering Arthur however…. Merlin sent a quick prayer to the Triple Goddess that that was not the case. The two of them might not be on speaking terms, but he figured she owed him for all this destiny nonsense. She didn’t exactly make it easy for Merlin to look after Arthur.

The crowd exited the castle and gathered loosely together in the courtyard. The sun was just beginning to creep over the top of the castle. Grey-blue light faded at the edges and gave way to the orange-pink glow of first proper sunlight. The balcony was illuminated by a brilliant patch of orange light that glanced off the pale stone. Uther was not standing there yet, but if he had an announcement to make, then he would be there soon. The air was chilly. Merlin’s breath steamed in front of his face while he waited and the air nipped through his jacket and shirt. Ahead of him, he could see Gwen and Morgana pressing close together to keep themselves warm. It was funny. If he’d tried to do that with Arthur, Arthur probably would have made a face, called Merlin a girl, and told him to budge over. Merlin would have fired back an insult and held his ground until Arthur begrudgingly acquiesced because he was secretly cold as well. He didn’t think that he would miss the bickering and insults when he’d helped Arthur escape, but he did. Turned out Merlin had too many thoughts to keep to himself, but if he aid them to anyone other than Arthur they came out as rude. He and Arthur liked poking fun at each other.

Finally the double doors to the balcony swung open and Uther stepped out. It reminded Merlin of the very first time he set foot in the castle courtyard. Just like that first day, Uther was in full royal regalia. He had his red cape, fluttering just faintly in the chill breeze, and his crown was polished to a high shine. Even his expression was similar. Bizarrely, there was no madness in his eyes. Ever since Catrina enchanted him, there had been a haze over his expression. It made it obvious that he wasn’t in his right mind. Now, that was gone. He appeared clear eyed and conscious. Somehow, that didn’t sit right with Merlin.

“People of Camelot,” Uther called, “as many of you may know, my son Arthur has been missing for these last six weeks. Search parties were sent out, but to no avail.” Merlin frowned at that. According to Morgana, Uther hadn’t even told the knights that Arthur had vanished. Uther continued with his speech, “We have heard the concern from the people about his whereabouts, and I have good news to share.”

Merlin’s heart was pounding in his throat. His mind was filled with a litany of ‘please don’t say you found him’, ‘please don’t say you found him’, ‘please don't--’

Uther waved his hand and the doors opened again. Another man stepped out. He was about a head shorter than Uther, and a few years older. Where Uther’s hair was steel grey, this man’s hair was as white as Gaius’s. He was skinny with a sharp face, and he reminded Merlin of a bird of prey. HIs gaze too aware and too quick.

“I wish to introduce you all to Aredian.” Uther said and clapped Aredian on the shoulder, “he has been a fierce ally against magic in the past. He is better known by his profession; Witch Hunter. Given that no sign of Arthur can be found, I can only assume that he was taken by magic. Aredian has agreed to help me locate my son. If anyone can ferret out the magic hold Arthur captive, it would be him.”

A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. This was the first that they had heard anything about magic. It was the first Merlin had heard of it. Gwen and Morgana glanced at him over their shoulders. He was willing to guess that they hadn’t heard about magic’s involvement either.

Aredian stepped forward, his dark coat billowing behind him, and said, “I am honored to help in the search of our King’s missing son.” he said. His voice had a strange, slightly nasal quality, but it was still deep. Something about it sent chills up Merlin's spine. “I will begin my search this afternoon. Please, do not be afraid of my arrival at your homes. If you have no involvement in this disappearance, then you have nothing to hide. With any luck, I will be able to find Arthur within a week. I will do whatever it takes.”

There was a long pause. Up until that moment, most of the people listening had heard the rumors that Gwen, Morgana, and Merlin had spread. How many of them actually believed Uther killed his own son was hard to say, but this was enough to make a few people whisper to each other in hushed tones. More than one person had a wrinkled brow. It became clear that Uther and Aredian were waiting for something.

Merlin clapped. It was the only thing he could think to do. For as long as Merlin had served Arthur, Uther had cared deeply about his image and pride. After an announcement like this, it made sense that he would expect his subjects to rejoice and praise his action. Morgana shot a dark glare over her shoulder, but upon seeing that it was Merlin, faced front and started applauding as well. Gwen took the cue and began applauding as well. Gaius also started, and the rest of the crowd took it up. The hesitation would likely be noticed. Merlin just hoped that there were no repercussions for it. If Uther pushed on the people much harder, there would be no Camelot for Arthur to return to.

Uther and Aredian both said some parting remarks that were swallowed by the crowd, and then they turned and went back inside the castle. Slowly, the crowd started to disperse. He could hear a few snatches of conversation as people passed him. Most of it was confusion, remarking on the fact they hadn’t heard about magical involvement. AS Gwen and Morgana shuffled by, Merlin caught Gwen’s attention and tilted his head in the direction of Gaius’s chambers. She nodded silently and moved on. Once they were out of sight, Gwen would likely pass the message onto Morgana. Meet Merlin at Gaius’s chambers. When the crowd had thinned enough, Gaius and Merlin made their way back home. In silence, Gaius prepared some tea for everyone.

It wasn’t long after the water boiled that Gwen and Morgana ducked inside. Gwen shut the door behind the two of them and leaned her ear against the crack, listening for followers. She stepped away from the door and said, “We weren't followed.”

“Good.” Morgana said fiercely, “Then we can get right to business. Who is this Aredian, Gaius?”

“No one we want to tangle with, I fear.” Gaius said as he passed out cups of tea to everyone. It warmed the last of the chill from Merlin's fingers, “I’ve seen the aftermath of his interrogations in the days of the Great Purge. He is ruthless. He will stop at nothing to root out magic wherever it may be. The worst part is that his accusations are usually accurate. I still don’t know how he does it.”

“By aftermath, do you mean he tortures people?” Gwen asked.

Gaius nodded solemnly, “Keeps them awake for days at a time, gives them no food or water, and if the person he’s interrogating is particularly stubborn, he will escalate to threatening their loved ones with the pyre, and beating. If he is n Arthur’s trail, we can expect a trail of pain and destruction in his wake.”

“Then how do we stop him?” Morgana asked. She was the only one still standing, like being on her feet would get things done, “Uther won’t see sense. That much is clear. So how do we stop Aredian from finding Arthur?”

“We can't.” Merlin said.

“Why not?”

“If we interfere with him, he’ll tell Uther. Then we’ll all be forced to deal with Aredian’s methods. We can’t stop Aredian from finding Arthur. Our only chance would be to get to Arthur first and warn him that Aredian is coming.”

“If one of us leaves right after Uther and Aredian made this announcement, it will look just as suspicious as if we interfered with Aredian.” Gwen pointed out, “Even if one of us managed to escape unnoticed, Aredian might start interrogating the people left behind. I’m sure Aredian will think Morgana was involved. She was the one to discover Arthur missing, and the one who has pushed back against Uther the most. If he’s as good as Gaius says, he’ll think I’m involved, and if he asks around and discovers you and I are friends,” she turned to Merlin, “that would implicate you and Gaius.”

A knock at the door startled them. They all sat frozen. No one dare dot open the door or say a single word. If Aredian was on the other side, then he might have already heard what they had said. The knock came again, followed by an exasperated huff.

A voice came muffled through the wood, “It’s Sir Leon. Please open the door.”

Merlin got to his feet, crossed the room, and opened the door to Leon. He offered his sunniest grin and said, “Sir Leon, how can I help you? Has that rash come back?”

Leon looked pained for a moment, and then said, “I would rather not discuss this out in the hall. If I could come in?”

Reluctantly, Merlin stepped aside to admit Leon. He swung the door shut behind him. He bowed his head respectfully to Morgana, greeted Gwen and Gaius, and then took a seat on the edge of the unoccupied patient cot. “I want to be very clear, that I have no idea where Arthur is.”

Merlin exchanged a glance with Gwen, and then turned back to Leon with an amused frown, “Alright? I don’t know why you came all the way here just to tell us that.”

“I also want it to be clear that I have no idea why you’re gathering here.” Leon continued, “Nor do I have any interest in finding out.”

“Clear as mud.” Gaius said.

“Isn’t it interesting that there is a new face at the Rising Sun?”

Merlin couldn’t say that it was terribly surprising. There were always new faces in the lower town. Leon wasn’t making any sense.

“He’s already been payed his weigh tin beer for tracking down a lost cart horse, and a couple of lost pigs. Strange that a man with that particular set of skill should come here when the prince is missing.”

It all slid into place. Leon was trying to tell them that they could hire someone to go find Arthur for them. This was the first time Merlin had ever witnessed Leon stand up against one of Uther’s orders. He was sort of proud. Maybe Leon wasn’t such a boot licker after all.

“Well,” Gwen remarked, “we wouldn’t be any worse off if we sent him in our place.”

“He could tell the king and turn us in for a bigger reward.”

“I have no idea what you mean by sending him in your place, or why turning you in would bring him a reward.” Leon said, face straining as he tried to make his double meaning clear, “I’ve heard that this man is disliked by the guards in the lower town. He has a thing about royalty, and won’t stop insulting King Uther.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know what he looks like, would you?” Morgana asked, “Just, if we wanted to meet him at the tavern and tell him to stop the insults.”

“I do, my lady. I don’t know his name, but I could pick him out of a crowd.”

“Leon, any interested in getting a drink at the Rising Sun tonight?” Merlin asked, “Gaius doesn’t have enough work to keep me busy, and I would love to convince you to take me on as your manservant over a cup of ale.”

“I’ll meet you there a little after sundown.” Leon said and shoved himself to his feet. He grabbed a bottle off the workbench at random and headed for the door, “Thank you for this draught Gaius.”

“Of course, Sir Leon.” Gaius said with a solemn nod, “If there are any unusual side effects, please feel free to come back so I can sort it for you.”

Leon bowed his head one last time to Morgana, and then slipped out into the hall.

“Merlin, you’ve already put yourself at great risk by helping Arthur escape. You shouldn’t risk yourself again. Let me or Gwen do it.” Morgana insisted.

“Uther would notice if you went to the Rising Sun, my lady, and people would notice if Gwen was suddenly meeting knights after dark. Besides, most of Camelot already thinks I’m an alcoholic. Gaius has used the tavern excuse for me enough that it won’t be unusual at all for me to be seen there. And everyone will assume I’m after a job with Leon.”

Morgana relented, “I just wish there was more I could do.”

“You’ve done plenty.” Gaius said firmly, “Your rumors have bought Arthur plenty of time to get far away from Camelot. I’m sure that Uther’s work with Aredian only happened because he realized Arthur was already over the border. We’ll need you to keep an ear to Uther and keep track of his dealings with Aredian whenever you can. No one else is in the position to do that. Don’t jeopardize it by searching for glory.”

Morgana took what Gaius said, and said nothing in return. Merlin suspected that she didn’t like to hear that she’d been searching for glory. That was usually an accusation that she laid at Arthur’s feet. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, she clearly wasn’t fond of it. Even less fond of it for Gaius being right.

“We’d better go before you’re late to breakfast with the king.” Gwen reminded Morgana.

Gaius passed Morgana a bottle off her sleeping draught to hide the true nature of the visit, and the four of them exchanged goodbyes. Morgana and Gwen left. Merlin slipped into his room. His mother would need to know that she could give information to this fellow. Arthur had probably told her not to tell anyone but Merlin, and that had made sense when no one was searching for him. With Aredian thrown in, the plan needed to change. Merlin needed to write his other a letter, but he needed her to be the only one who could read it. If the man Leon recommended turned out to be untrustworthy, or if the letter somehow found its way into Aredian or Uther’s hands, Merlin didn’t want the letter to give away his mother or Arthur. Best way to do that would be an enchantment. He wasn’t even sure if such a spell existed, but if it did, he would likely need the whole afternoon to get it to work right.

There was a lot of work to do.

Chapter Text

Out of the corner of his eye, Gwaine spotted the red haired knight from a couple of nights ago. The knight gestured to the room, clearly speaking to someone behind him in a low voice. Gwaine ignored him and went back to his game of dice. Across from him was a man with a squashed nose and hard, flinty eyes. He didn’t like that Gwaine kept winning. It wasn’t Gwaine’s fault. The man guessed wildly whenever he through his dice. It may be a game of chance, but there was still strategy to it. He wouldn't have had a better chance at beating Gwaine at lying, though. Gwaine was inscrutable when it came to dice games and lying.

The tavern was in full swing. Gwaine and his opponents were hardly the only ones playing games. There were several tables where card games were being played. Others, deeper into their cups, were singing drinking songs. It was loud enough that Gwaine could barely hear himself think. Maybe that was why his opponent was having such trouble, he couldn’t think in this environment. Gwaine picked up his cup and rattled the dice around in it. When he was satisfied, he stopped shaking them and tilted the cup towards the table.

“Ten.” Gwaine guessed, and rolled the dice.

The dice clattered out of the cup and hit the table with dull clacks. The tumbled across the rough wood and one stopped just shy of the edge. The die nearest Gwaine came up six. He held his breath and lifted his gaze to the dice that had almost fallen off in front of his opponent. A four. He’d won. Again. Gwaine grinned and tossed his hair back out of his face.

“Seems I win again, my friend.” Gwaine said.

The man’s scowl deepened and his hands clenched on the edge of the table, knuckles turned white. Gwaine knew when to beat a hasty retreat. There were slim odds, and there were impossible odds. Taking this man on would have been a challenging but fun fight, taking on the man plus all his friends lurking at the edges of the room, impossible.

“Tell you what,” Gwaine said, leaning in, “why don’t you buy me an ale and then we call it even.”

The man glanced down at the stack of coins gathered in front of Gwaine, contemplated it (and presumably Gwaine's offer), and then nodded, “Alright. An ale it is.”

“Good man.”

Gwaine separated out the coin that they had each started with and slid the man’s stack back across the table to him. The man tucked his coin back into his purse, but left a couple out to buy Gwaine an ale. They crossed the room together, and the man flagged down the barman. He got Gwaine some ale, the man passed over the coin, and the barman passed over the cup. Gwaine leaned his elbows and sipped at his ale. This was why he’d stayed in Camelot this long. Their ale was top notch. Rather than return to the tables, Gwaine stayed where he was. He’d let some of the crowd disperse before returning to gamble people into buying him another drink.

“Are you Gwaine?” a voice asked.

The voice belonged to a young man. He was half a head taller than Gwaine and on the thinner side. His face was all angles, and an untidy mop of short, black hair made him a bit gawky. Something about the way he carried himself, though, made it work for him. He was adorable, and Gwaine suspected in a few years he would grow into all those angles and turn them into an unearthly style of handsome. Next to him was a young woman. She was only a little shorter than Gwaine, and her tightly waved brown hair was pulled back in a clip to keep it out of her face. Unlike her friend, she was already pretty. She had shining brown eyes, and cool medium brown skin. Whereas the young man’s expression was set with determination, the young woman kept glancing anxiously around the room, like she was waiting for something to go wrong.

Gwaine left one elbow resting on the bar and lounged against it, grinning his most charming smile, “Not every day someone who look like the two of you ask after me.”

The young woman stopped glancing around the room and looked at Gwaine. Her eyes were lit with disbelief and amusement. Gwaine’s flirtation went right over the young man’s head. His expression grew earnest and a tinge desperate, “So you are Gwaine?”

“That’s me.” Gwaine agreed.

“We need your help.” the young man said imploringly.

“Missing pig?” Gwaine asked. If they were farmers that might explain the slightly shabby state of their clothes. The make was too fine to work fields in, but if they came to Camelot to sell their livestock, then they might have worn their very best clothes to give themselves an air of status.

“Something like that. Can we do this at a table?”

Gwaine gestured for the young man to lead the way. The young woman tugged on the young man’s sleeve and pointed out an empty table wedged into a corner at the back of the room. Gwaine followed behind as they weaved their way through the patrons gathered around too small tables. When they finally all three managed to wedge themselves into the table at the back, it was cramped.

The young woman scanned the room, and said to her friend, “Leon hasn’t put up the signal.”

Gwaine followed the direction of her gaze to the redheaded knight he’d noticed earlier. Said knight was sat with other knights, but slightly separated from them. He was clearly only half paying attention to what is companions were saying, and was instead focusing mostly on the door to the tavern. Gwaine was beginning to suspect that there was more to this than just a missing farm animal.

“Leon said you were able to track down a missing cart horse, is that true?” the young man asked.

“True enough.” Gwaine answered, “It wasn’t all that difficult. Animals behave in pretty standard ways once you know them.”

“Can you track down a person?” the young woman asked.

Gwaine blinked and sat back in his seat. It would depend entirely on who they wanted him to track down. He might be a drunken fool, but he was no idiot. He wasn’t going to get involved in tracking down someone who didn’t want to be found. He shrugged, offering them an easy smile, “Depends on who it is, I guess.”

Neither answered right away. The young man glanced around the room with a frown, and then ducked his head. He muttered something Gwaine couldn’t hear. When he lifted his head, he met Gwaine’s eyes again, and his expression was pleading and hopeful, “If you’ve been in Camelot as long as Leon says, then you’ve heard of Prince Arthur.”

“Heard of him.” Gwaine agreed, “Rumor has it that King Uther had him killed off.”

“He’s still alive.” the young woman said, “We helped him escape.”

Now that? That was unexpected. Gwaine sat forward, keeping his voice down, “What do you mean you helped him escape?”

“A few months ago, Uther was placed under an enchantment by a troll.” the young woman explained.

“There was a fight. Arthur killed the troll, but it didn’t end the magic on his father. Arthur blamed the troll’s death on an intruder.”

“Why would he need to cover for a troll’s death?”

Here both the young man and the young woman failed to hide their amused smiles.

“She came to Camelot in disguise.” the young woman said, “We all thought she was Catrina of Tregor.”

“Didn’t that entire house fall nearly five years ago now? Invaders from up north?’

“The troll somehow got ahold of the Tregor seal.” the young man explained, “She told Uther that she and her servant had barely escaped and had been fleeing towards Camelot ever since. She looked enough like the Catrina Uther remembered that he believed her, and by the time the rest of us realized she was a troll, he’d gone and married her.”

Gwaine couldn’t stop the laughter as it flew from his lips. The mental image of mighty King Uther married to a troll was just too good. He would have paid money to be at that wedding. The young man nudged his friend to get her to stop giggling.

“Point is, the troll’s enchantment continued. That’s why there’s so many guards and tax collectors, Uther is determined to squeeze any last drop of money out of the people. Arthur was opposing all the measures that Uther was implementing. Then my friend told me that Uther spread the rumor that Arthur was incredibly ill.” the young man explained.

“We were worried Uther was positioning himself to kill Arthur. So we helped Arthur escape.” the young woman added, “Only the rumors we spread about it took on a life of their own, and now everyone in Camelot is convinced Uther killed Arthur. Uther is determined to prove that he didn’t.”

“He’s hired Aredian to go after him.”

“Aredian as in the Witch Hunter?” Gwaine asked, “The one who has been terrorizing the five kingdoms with his searches since the purge?”

He was met with identical nods.

That was bad. Gwaine had never had the displeasure of meeting Aredian himself, but the tales of his methods had reached him even all the way in Caerleon where magic was tentatively legal. Say what you will about royals, but at least Annis and Caerleon had never brought Aredian in to deal with their court.

“Your friend has no chance on his own unless he’s invisible. If anyone has seen him, Aredian will track them down.”

“I know.” the young man said, “That’s why we want you to find Arthur first.”

“I don’t know if I can help. Your friend will have gone out of his way to hide his tracks, and if he’s already been gone a few weeks, there won’t be much of a trail to follow.”

“I already know the first stop he made, I was the one who sent him there.”

“Then why don’t you go after him?”

“I’m his manservant. If Uther or Aredian saw me leave after waiting this long, they would know I was going straight for Arthur. We’re trying to keep them off his trail for as long as possible.”

Gwaine blew out a sigh. He didn’t really want to help this royal. In Gwaine’s experience, royals were all entitled and good for nothing. They liked to sit back in their grand houses and castles and tell the world what to do. None of them knew how the real world worked, and they always got their people killed to protect their own vanity. He had yet to meet a royal he wasn’t deeply disappointed in. And yet… here was Prince Arthur’s manservant, begging Gwaine to warn his prince in time. It didn’t sound like the devotion of a servant to master either. It sounded like someone worried for a friend. Not one, but two servants had helped Arthur escape. One of his knights was breaking his oath of loyalty to the king, to make sure he was warned in time. There were probably other people involved in this plan that Gwaine would never meet. Arthur’s manservant had also said that Arthur had been pushing back against Uther’s harsh laws, hard enough that it had put his life at risk. For the two people in front of him, and the people who were probably saved by Arthur’s actions, Gwaine would put aside his notions of royalty.

“Where did he go first?”

Arthur’s manservant grinned and dug two folded up pieces of parchment from his pocket. They were sealed with red wax, but there was no house sigil stamped into it. One had a bit of twine used to tie it shut, the other was sealed only with the wax. He passed them over to Gwaine. “Give the one without twine to Hunith in Ealdor. She won’t tell you anything without permission from me, and that letter will explain it all to her so she knows she can trust you. Give the second one to Arthur. Just in case he tries to kill you thinking his father sent you.”

“And this Hunith will now where he went?”

“He was supposed to tell her his ultimate destination. Hopefully he listened to me this once.”

“If he was trying to disappear, why tell her at all?”

“I was supposed to go join him once everything had cooled down.”

“You have a lot of loyalty to him for a servant?”

Arthur’s manservant shrugged, “Arthur is different. He’s not just my lord or my prince, he’s my friend. It’s hard to explain, but destiny isn’t done with the two of us yet.”

Gwaine decided to accept that oddness at face value. It wasn’t any of his business why they were so loyal to each other. That was their business, and possibly the business of the young woman who joined them. He looked at the two of them and the hope shining out of their faces, and felt his heart go out to them. They really cared about Arthur, and because Gwaine was apparently a tender-hearted fool, he now cared about them.

“I’ll do my best to find him.” he swore.

“Thank you.” “Thank you so much.”

The young woman brushed the front of her dress nervously, “Leon said you accepted payment in the form of ale, but if it costs more, we can give you actual payment.”

Gwaine waved his hand in the air dismissively, “Keep your money. You can buy me a drink if I find him in time.”

Arthur’s manservant and the young woman got their feet and squeezed themselves back out of the corner. There was a reason the table had been empty. It was by far the most cramped and uncomfortable one in the entire tavern. Arthur’s manservant caught the toe of his boot on the table leg on his way out and almost tipped over into another patron. He righted himself at the very last minute, and misled sheepishly at his friend who was shaking her head. Gwaine stood with them, and held his hand out. He hadn’t had a chance to learn much from his father, but he had learned that it was important to show you would keep your word. For him, that proof was a handshake. He shook hands with both the young woman and Arthur’s manservant.

“You know, I never did get your names.”

“If it turns out we can trust you, then maybe you’ll learn them.” Arthur’s manservant said.

Gwaine didn't point out that by identifying himself as Arthur’s manservant, he as good as told Gwaine his name. He had no intention of turning either of them in to King Uther and, gods willing, they would never have to sneak the crown prince out of Camelot again.

As the two of them walked away, Gwaine swore that suddenly a fuzziness lifted from his ears. He could hear the common room again. Funny. He couldn’t remember it having been dulled.

Gwaine spent the rest of the night gambling. He hadn’t collected enough coin to pay for a room, but the barman didn’t care if Gwaine sat in the common room all night. The more people who tried to gamble against Gwaine, the longer they stayed, and the more money they spent on drinks. When the first rays of light dawned, most everyone trudged off to sleep. Gwaine took up his usual spot on the floor under the stairs and slept as well. When he woke in the morning, he pleased to find that he didn’t have a headache. Scheming last night meant that he hadn’t had as much to drink as he normally did. He’d get a good start on tracking down Arthur.

He paused long enough to rinse out his mouth and then slung his pack over his back. He reeked of stale beer and ale, but he’d have a quick wash in a river on the road while tracking Arthur down. The first order of business was to get a map. He knew vaguely that Ealdor was over the border in Essetir, but he didn’t know where along the border it was. The map would also come in handy if Arthur had chosen an obscure place to hide out. It would allow Gwaine to follow the landmarks.

The mapmaker charged an arm and a leg for the map. Gwaine had enough coin to cover it, but barely. He was beginning to wish that he’d accepted the payment, just to cover his expenses. If he found Arthur, he might ask for payment, just to make up for the map. Surely he’d taken his money with him when he’d left. It would only make sense.

Gwaine decided against borrowing a horse. If Arthur had been sneaking out of Camelot, he wouldn't have ridden his horse to do it. Especially if he’d been locked in his room before that. Trying to smuggle a small animal anywhere was difficult, let alone a full grown horse. Gwaine having a horse would have been nice, to gain the ground that they had lost by letting Arthur get a head start, but it could cause problems if they had to cross rocky terrain or narrow paths. Better to go on foot.

After the mapmaker, he loaded up his pack with supplies, spending the last of the money he had left. He was stocked for several days. Hopefully, the people of Ealdor would be generous enough to provide him some supplies. Gwaine couldn’t afford to pay them for it. Now fully prepared to leave, he took a few minutes to contemplate the map he’d bought. He traced the route to Ealdor, memorized it as bet he could, and tucked the map away. Then he slung his pack over his shoulders and got to his feet.

It was time for him to go find a prince.

Chapter Text

The road to Ealdor was mostly through the woods. There were no traders or other travelers out that Gwaine could see so he journeyed alone to the ridge of Essetir. It was a low range of rocky hills, still dotted with trees. It wasn’t particularly difficult terrain. He stuck to the trade road. The leaves and dirt were compacted enough that it made walking easy. Gwaine didn’t need to follow Arthur’s trail to Ealdor. He already knew that Arthur had stopped there. It didn’t matter that Gwaine follow in his exact footsteps to get there himself.

Trees provided enough shade that he didn’t burn under the afternoon sun. He was cool beneath their branches, and was glad that he hadn’t lost his vest to pay for gambling debts. He still remembered the time he literally lost the shirt off his back. Traveling like that had been unpleasant.

Perhaps an hour or so before sunset, the peace of the woods was broken by the rumble of a cart. Gwaine didn’t notice it at first, but then he heard the snort of a horse and turned to look. The man driving the cart was older. His white hair was wiry but tidy underneath a wide brimmed black hat. Upon seeing Gwaine, the man directed his cart to come to a stop alongside.

“You seem to be coming from Camelot.” the man said, piercing eyes fixed on Gwaine’s face.

“I was there for a time, but decided it was time to head home and visit my family.” Gwaine explained.

The man patted the seat next to him and said, “Please. Allow me to give you a ride. Where are you headed?”

“Better tell me where you’re headed first. I don’t want to put you out because you feel obligated to drive me now.”

“I am headed in the direction of Mercia.”

“Ah. Well, I’m headed to Essetir. We split off from here.”

The man retracted his hand and eyed Gwaine with consideration, “Have you seen a young man in chainmail? He should have blonde hair and blue eyes, carrying a fine sword?”

“Can't say that I have.” Gwaine said, rocking back on his heels, “At least none since I left Camelot. They’re lousy with knights there.”

“The young man I’m looking for would not be a wearing a cape with any sigil of a noble house. He is going to attempt to disguise himself.” the man said, and his considering frown drew his features together into an expression like a bird of prey, “Never mind all that. If you come across someone matching the description I gave you, report it to the head guard or city watchman you come across. All of them know how to get in touch with me.”

“Who should I tell them to send word to?” Gwaine had a suspicion that he knew who this man was, but he wanted the confirmation.

“Aredian.”

There it was. Just as Gwaine suspected. The description Aredian had given was almost word for word the same description that Arthur’s manservant had given. Gwaine understood why Aredian had such a fearsome reputation. It wasn’t just that he was good at what he did. It was the way he carried himself. If Gwaine hadn’t resolved not to tell anyone anything he didn’t have to, he could have been suckered into telling Aredian everything. He had the type of charisma that could swing easily between intimidation and persuasion. It was no wonder that Aredian was able to get his prey.

“If I see who you’re looking for, I’ll send word.” Gwaine lied.

Aredian nodded, looking pleased, and adjusted his seat in the cart. He tipped his hat to Gwaine and said, “See that you do. Good day.”

Gwaine waved his hand in parting as Aredian urged his cart horse on. Once Aredian was around the bend in the path, Gwaine dug the map out of his bag and spread it out on the nearest rock. He considered it carefully. As of now, Aredian was headed in the wrong direction. Or at least, Gwaine was assuming that Aredian was headed in the wrong direction. There was every chance that Aredian had a lead that Gwaine didn’t. Maybe Prince Arthur had gone to Mercia after leaving Ealdor. Gwaine shook his head to clear it. He couldn’t waste time by sitting around worrying that Aredian had more information than him. What he needed to do was get the information he needed faster.

He traced the path he was currently on. At that distance, maintaining the pace he was already using, he would reach Ealdor in half a day’s time. There was a short cut he could take. He’d avoided it because shortcuts tended to be infested by bandits, wild animals, or both, but Aredian had him spooked. If Aredian had already left Camelot, then he had a lead and was using it.

He rolled the map back up and slipped it back into his pack. Then he turned off the main road and dove deep into the woods.

Evening was just beginning to set as he left the trees. He’d made it in about a quarter of the day and wouldn’t need to spend the night in the woods. Miraculously, he arrived in Ealdor relatively unscathed. He had a few nicks here and there, and scraped palms from when his foot slipped and he slid halfway down an embankment before he could stop himself. However, his blundering had likely scared off any animals and there was not a bandit in sight.

Ealdor was tiny. The entire town consisted of ten houses, a few paddocks for animals, and lots of fields. Most of the houses were in various states of repair. Nothing was broken. No door was hanging off its hinges and no glass was broken, but the wood was old and worn. The glass was caked with a fine layer of dust that seemed like the kind no one could get up no matter how much scrubbing was done. Clothes were just as shabby as houses. It was clear that the garments were well tended to and well patched, but eventually, all clothes became more patch than clothing. Despite the scruffy appearance, the people looked happy. They walked with their heads up, and called out in greeting to each other. They gathered in groups to do their chores, and appeared perfectly content to chatter away while darning socks or shoveling up mounds of hay and dung.

A few heads turned Gwaine’s direction as he wandered into town. It didn’t seem like Ealdor got a lot of visitors.

“Excuse me!” Gwaine called to a man who had just finished shutting the gate behind his pigs, “Do you have a moment?”

The man latched the gate and turned to Gwaine, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a woman by the name of Hunith. I have a letter for her from her son.”

“At this time of night, you should find her in her house getting supper started. Two houses down on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Gwaine turned and strode off in the direction he was pointed. When he reached the second house on the right, he stepped up to the creaky wooden door and knocked. After a moment, the door swung open. It was easy enough to spot the family resemblance between her and her son. She had the same high cheek bones and the same intelligent blue eyes. Her hair was greying at the temples, but the rest of it was tucked neatly into a headscarf to keep it out of her face as she worked.

“Are you Hunith?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes.” Hunith answered, “Can I help you?”

Gwaine slipped the pack off his shoulders and dug around until he could pull out the letter. He handed it over to Hunith, “Your son sent me with a letter for you. I’m helping him, but he knew you wouldn’t trust me if you didn’t have proof of who I am.”

Hunith accepted the letter and gestured for Gwaine to come inside. She set the letter on a shelf, and retrieved two wooden bowls. She scooped up some of the stew in the pot hanging over the fire in her fireplace, and passed a bowl to Gwaine. He ate it politely. It wasn’t all that bad. Especially when he considered the limited ingredients she had access to. As he ate, she broke the wax seal on the letter and began reading. When Gwaine caught a look at the page, it just looked like a bunch of squiggles to him, but Hunith must know her son’s handwriting. She had no issues reading it.

Once she had read the whole thing twice, she set it aside and met Gwaine’s eyes, “He said that if you made it this far, then you were likely trustworthy, and to tell you where our friends went.”

“They hired me to warn him.” Gwaine explained, setting aside his empty bowl, “The Witch Hunter, Aredian, is after our friend.”

“He’s headed to Tintagel. There was a property there for him that was left abandoned. It did not pass to his father, and therefore is not in Camelot or bound by its rules. I hope you find him before Aredian does, he’s a good man.”

“I’ll do my best.”

It was the same promise he’d given her son.

After supper, Gwaine helped Hunith clear the table and went to the well to fetch water to wash the bowls. They worked side by side in companionable silence. Neither one of them wanted to ask too many questions in case it could get tracked back to Arthur or the others helping him. Hunith turned in early with the promise that she would load Gwaine with whatever supplies she could manage in the morning. Gwaine stayed up later than her, pouring over the map by the weak light from the one candle she had.

If he were Arthur, he would stick to the less traveled roads. It might take much longer to reach Tintagel that way, but from the sounds of things Arthur was clever. He would know that the less people who spotted him, the safer he was. Besides, he was a knight. He’d be no stranger to roughing it. Keeping that in mind, Gwaine plotted the most likely course Arthur could have taken to reach Tintagel. He factored in things like the availability of water, and the likelihood of game trails as well. It was late at night by the time he finished plotting the course. He stretched out on Hunith’s stone floor in front of the fire, and slept hard.

In the morning, Hunith gave him what supplies she could and sent Gwaine on his way. Before she did, she told him to pass her love and good wishes on to Arthur. With that promise, Gwaine left. He stuck to the path that he’d charted, consulting his map often to make sure he hadn’t deviated.

He walked for several days without coming across any evidence of Arthur. Granted, he wasn’t sure what kind of evidence he was expecting to find. It wasn’t like Arthur was going to leave a bright red banner waving in the wind so that everyone and their grandmother could track him down. Gwaine spotted tracks, but they were all muddled up together. If they were Arthur’s tracks, then he’d doubled back on them to confuse anyone following him. Normally, taking even the long route to Tintagel should only take a couple of weeks at most, but if Arthur were circling back again and again to throw people off his trail, then he might not yet have reached Tintagel. That would go double if he was attempting to avoid bandits. Gwaine had had his own trouble coming this way. Moving through bandit territory required stealth and precision. Two things that slowed a traveler down immensely. At least Aredian was headed towards Mercia. That was quite a ways away from Tintagel. There was hope for Arthur yet.

*

Gwaine slowed to a stop. Up ahead, he could hear the clang of swords and the shouting of men. He approached cautiously, his curiosity getting the better of him. He pressed his back against a tree and poked his head around the edge of the trunk.

The fight was four against one. The four were dressed similarly in worn out leather armor that didn’t fit as well as it could, and clothes that had seen better days. Their weapons were better cared for than their clothes or armor, although Gwaine suspected that had to do with their ability to steal well cared for weapons rather than maintain their own. The man they were fighting was a blur of movement. He moved with a sword like it was an extension of himself. His skill was the only thing keeping him from being overwhelmed by the men he was fighting, but even as Gwaine watched it was clear he was beginning to flag and struggle under the onslaught. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat. If he didn’t gain an ally soon, he’d lose. Good thing Gwaine thrived on impossible odds.

He waited, poised for the right moment. One of the four was forced to fall back to stay out of the way of blow from the blonde man. The momentum of that step brought him close to Gwaine’s tree. Gwaine took the opportunity presented. He hopped out from behind the tree, grabbed the man around his chest, and brought the hilt of the sword down on the man’s head. The man let out a startled cry and crumpled to the ground. The sound alerted his remaining three companions, and they all turned to look at Gwaine.

Gwaine smiled winningly and sketched a bow, “Gentlemen.”

The blonde man charged forward and brought the hilt of his own sword down on the nearest man’s head. That man crumpled as well. That evened the odds nicely. The remaining two men split off. One went after the blonde man, the other came after Gwaine. Gwaine lost track of the blonde man’s movements in the fray, but trusted he could take care of himself. He’d done a good enough job so far. The man Gwaine was fighting darted forward with his sword outstretched. Gwaine parried the blow and tried to lock their swords together. The man wrenched himself free of the tangle and took a step back to force Gwaine to come after him. Gwaine did, fully knowing that chasing put the other fighter at an advantage. He’d gain the upper hand again somehow. His opportunity came a moment later. The man he was fighting swung at him again, but he’d grown over confident as Gwaine struggled to land a blow. Gwaine ducked, slid the blade of his sword down and around, locked their hilts, and sent the other man’s sword flying. Gwaine caught it in his empty hand and grinned at the flabbergasted bandit in front of him.

“Ready to give up now?” he asked, “Seems like your companions are all out of the fight now, too.”

The bandit glanced behind him at his companions. Two of them were on the ground, groaning as they tried to sit up despite the pain in their head. The third was a crumpled heap that was clearly not moving.

“I’m done fighting.” the bandit said turning back to Gwaine, “You can even keep the sword. Think of it as a gift to make up for the trouble we caused.”

“Thank you. Now run along.”

The bandit turn on his heel and fled back into the woods. The blonde man wiped his sword on the tunic of one of the dead bandit in front of him and slid it back into its sheath. He glanced up at Gwaine, and Gwaine had a chance to observe him properly for the first time. Blond hair, blue eyes, wearing chainmail, carrying a fine sword. No way had Gwaine gotten this lucky.

“Are you Arthur, by any chance?” he asked.

The blonde man stiffened and his hand rested dangerously on the hilt of the sword, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hey, it’s not me you have to worry about.” Gwaine said, “I was sent to warn you. Before you pull that and run me through, I have a letter from your manservant.”

“Merlin sent you with a letter?” the blonde man asked, and that was as good as confirming that was indeed Arthur.

“His name might be Merlin. He didn’t want to tell it to me in case I turned out to be spying for Uther.”

Gwaine dug around in his pack until he found the letter he was looking for and handed it over. Arthur accepted it, cracked the seal, and read it. His jaw clenched a little, but other than that he showed no outward reaction. Gwaine was impressed. He’d be scared shitless if he found out Aredian was tracking him down.

Arthur rolled up the letter once more and stuck it into his own pack, “How long ago did he send you?”

“Maybe five days.” Gwaine answered, “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. I met Aredian when I left Camelot. He was already tracking down a lead that took him to Mercia.”

Arthur cursed under his breath and blew out an irritated sigh, “I’ve been zigzagging so no one knew where to find me. I ran out of supplies a couple of weeks ago and had to enter a village in Mercia to resupply. That must be where the lead came from.”

“Well I wish you luck. Aredian is a determined and terrifying old bastard. I’d get to Tintagel as soon as you can. It will be more defensible than running around in the woods.”

Arthur nodded, face solemn, “How are my friends? My father hasn’t come after them has he?”

“Your friends are alright.” Gwaine swore, “No one suspects them of helping you escape. Merlin still plans to meet you at the agreed upon date.”

“Thank you for bringing this to me. You risked angering both my father and Aredian to warn me, and I will never forget that. I’m in your debt.”

“That’s alright. I should head back to Camelot. I was promised an ale in repayment for my services.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes?”

“Look,” Arthur said stiffly, “as much as I hate to admit it, I can probably make it to Tintagel just fine on my own, but I’ve already been outnumbered once, and I still have to cross two more kingdoms with of bandit infested territory before I reach it. There is safety in numbers.”

“Are you asking me to travel with you?”

“Yes. I can’t defend Tintagel on my own, as much as I may want to. And if Aredian is already tacking leads, then it won’t be long until he finds out that is where I’m going. So, what do you say?”

Gwaine tilted his head to the side and considered. Technically, if Arthur had been disowned, he wasn’t a royal anymore. He was just a man. And a handsome man at that. “There are worse things than traveling with a handsome knight. I’ll stick with you at least until Merlin shows up.”

Chapter Text

“Could you make any more noise?’ Arthur asked through gritted teeth.

Gwaine stopped eating his apple and raised an eyebrow at Arthur, “What are you talking about?”

“The crunching and chewing.” Arthur said and gestured with his left hand at Gwaine’s apple, “It can be heard miles away.”

“No one’s tracking us.”

“Aredian is tracking us. These woods are crawling with bandits. Bounty hunters other than Aredian are probably tracking us, hoping they can poach the reward meant for Aredian. Neither of us have been more tracked in our entire lives.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched and he turned back to his pack. Gwaine was grateful for the good weather. Arthur hadn’t allowed a fire to be lit last night. He was a bossy ass, but Gwaine was willing to let it slide given the circumstances. Aredian had made the back of Gwaine’s neck prickle even when he wasn’t the one being tracked. He couldn’t imagine how Arthur felt being the primary target. He suspected that Arthur was used to being in the role of hunter. Being in the role of prey fit him ill.

Arthur packed his bag with efficient, harsh movements, slung it over his shoulders and hopped to his feet. His sword was already in its sheath at his waist. He stood hands on hips, looking down at Gwaine. Gwaine rolled his eyes and heaved himself to his feet as well. He shoved his bedroll back into the pack haphazardly and pocketed his half eaten apple. He could pick off the lint as they traveled.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Ecstatic.” Arthur said sarcastically and set off at a brisk pace.

Gwaine took a few jogging steps to catch up with him and fell in step. Arthur was lost deep in thought. There was a pinch between his brows and a pout to his already full lips. His gaze was on the path ahead, but he didn’t seem to actually see it. He moved automatically, like his legs knew nothing but how to keep moving. Gwaine left him be. He didn’t know Arthur well enough to be of a comfort to him at this time. Maybe once they were safely at Tintagel, Arthur would relax. If he didn’t relax by Tintagel, he better relax when Merlin showed up, otherwise Gwaine was going to do Uther a favor and kill Arthur himself.

They continued the zigzag trail that Arthur had been following before Gwaine joined him. When it became clear all the work Arthur was doing to keep himself from being tracked, Gwaine came to realize just how lucky he was to have found Arthur. Merlin and Hunith had provided him with an excellent lead, but Arthur had neglected to inform Hunith that he would be taking the most indirect approach to travel possible. Gwaine would have had a difficult time tracking Arthur across kingdoms. He wasn’t much of one to believe in fate or destiny. He preferred to think that a man made his own way in the world, but there was a small voice at the back of his mind every day he traveled with Arthur that wondered if there was more to this fate thing than he once thought. How else would his luck lead him directly to the person he’d been asked to help?

At about midday, the silence got under Gwaine’s skin. Arthur moved silently and efficiently through the woods, and had likely been traveling that way for all the weeks since he’d left Camelot. He didn’t think to try to engage Gwaine in conversation. The first few days they’d traveled together, that had suited Gwaine just fine. He hadn’t wanted to put up with the complaints of a royal. Now that he knew how stubborn and determined Arthur was, the silence was beginning to get irritating. Gwaine made friends wherever he went. Not being able to charm someone was a challenge he would gladly accept. It couldn’t be that hard. Arthur had already said he was in Gwaine’s debt.

Gwaine dug the apple out of his pocket, picked off the lint, and took a noisy bite out of it. Arthur’s head snapped around, his face wide-eyed with nerves. When his gaze landed on the apple, he scowled.

“Really?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine grinned, “Can’t blame a man for needing a snack. We’ve been walking all day for the last few days.”

“You didn’t pack any quieter food?”

“Ate all my bread already. Otherwise it would have gone stale.”

Arthur shook his head, turned around and kept walking.

With the silence now broken between them, Gwaine asked, “Where does your mind go when we’re walking?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I think of all the ale I’m missing out on by escorting his highness to Tintagel. Where does your mind go?”

There was a long pause. It was long enough that Gwaine thought Arthur was done with this game before it even started. Then Arthur answered.

He glanced over his shoulder at Gwaine with a surprisingly soft expression and said, “My friends, whether my father and Aredian have put it together that I could never have escaped on my own, whether they’re still safe.” Arthur turned his gaze back to the path ahead and continued, “I worry about Camelot. I worry what my father has done to the people since I left and whether I did the right thing by leaving them without anyone to protect them.”

Gwaine fell silent at that. The way Merlin had talked about Arthur, Gwaine assumed the devotion was ninety percent friendship and ten percent hero worship. He was starting to see the shape of Arthur now.

His life was on the line. He was being hunted by the most terrifying men in existence. By all rights he should be worrying about his own survival. Yet he found the capacity to worry about his friends, and just as importantly the kingdom he’d left behind to save himself.

“You care a lot about them, don’t you?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur ducked under a tree branch, “Camelot or my friends?”

“Both. Either.”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t expecting that.” Gwaine admitted.

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve met royals.” Gwaine said, ducking under the same tree branch that Arthur had, “Every one of them has been arrogant fools who sit back on their thrones and let their people take the fall for them. When merlin said you were different, I assumed he was exaggerating to get me to go with you. I didn’t think his devotion would be returned.”

At the mention of Merlin, Arthur’s mouth ticked up, “Merlin is a shabby idiot with appalling manners.”

“But you kept him around and trusted him enough to help him formulate his escape.”

“When it comes to my life, there is no one I trust with it more than Merlin.”

“Really?”

“He’s saved my life as much as I’ve saved his.”

“Merlin?” Gwaine asked disbelievingly, “Gawky Merlin who looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over?”

“He pulled me out of the way of a knife after having met me twice, and having me throw him in the dungeons for mouthing off.”

“Merlin being mouthy I can believe.”

Arthur snorted fondly, “He only calls me sire when other people are in earshot. Uses my first name like we’re peers instead of master and servant.”

“But you kept him around.”

“What can I say? A good servant is hard to come by.”

Gwaine took that to mean that Merlin was the closest thing Arthur had ever had to a friend. It couldn’t have been easy growing up under Uther’s thumb. He’d probably been surrounded by cronies. It was something of a miracle that he’d turned out to be as good of a man as he was. Even if he could be bossy and demanding.

The silence they fell into after that was comfortable. Something between them had shifted. They knew where the other one stood much better now.

Babbling of a river caught Gwaine’s attention and he grabbed Arthur’s elbow, “Hang on.”

Arthur let out a noise of irritation at the back of his throat and turned to face Gwaine, “We’re meant to reach the border of Gawant by nightfall.”

“Scrap that. We need to get to Tintagel. You said yourself it was the most defensible position.”

Arthur gestured for Gwaine to continue.

“If we use the river, there will be no tracks for anyone to follow. We’re headed downstream as it is, if we use it, we’ll be carried more directly to Tintagel without being tracked.”

“Only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“We don’t have a boat.”

Gwaine rocked back on his heels with a smirk, “Are you saying you’re too good to get your feet wet, Princess?”

Arthur’s shoulders and his jaw stiffened, he kept pointed eye contact with Gwaine and bent over to slip off his boots. Playing to Arthur’s competitive streak was effective.

Gwaine sat on a tree root and slipped off his own boots. They both rolled up the hems of their trousers to their knees and strapped their swords to their backs underneath their packs so that the metal wouldn’t rust from the water. Their boots were slung over their shoulders.

The river itself turned out to not be the idyllic crystal clear water that Gwaine had pictured when he’d heard it. The water was muddy. It was thick with run off from the surrounding banks, and loads of insects buzzed close to the surface. Gwaine wrinkled his nose at it, suddenly reconsidering his plan. The water looked like if you even set a toe into it, you’d come down with a nasty and life threatening illness.

Arthur charged stubbornly onward. He waded into the water and it reached his shins just below his knees. He looked up and caught Gwaine still hovering on the bank of the river. It was his turn to smirk challengingly.

“Afraid of a little dirt, Gwaine?” he called.

“Not on your life!” Gwaine called back.

He waded into the water. Immediately he could tell that the mud was not just from the banks. The floor of the river bed was loose and silty. With every step Gwaine took, mud squidged up between his toes. The worst part was that the silt was somehow also slimy.

Determined not to let Arthur have the last laugh about anything, he schooled his expression and sloshed his way to Arthur’s position.

The pressure of the river at the backs of their legs made it easier to walk in than if they had been headed upstream. Even so, slogging through the river was exhausting. It was a slow going process. For every step they took, they had to dislodge enough water to get their legs to move. Walking quickly created a harsher surface tension, so moving slowly was the only way to go about it. Words were scarce between them again. Too much of their focus was taken up with trying not to slip in the silt. It was worse for Arthur, weighed down by all his chainmail.

They trudged on like that for a while before Arthur finally called them to a halt.

“This isn’t working.”

“Have any better ideas?” Gwaine asked, voice breathy with exertion.

“We’ll make better time if we swim.”

“We can't get our packs wet. It has our maps and all of our supplies.”

Arthur glanced around at the bank and then sloshed his way to shore. He almost slipped in the grass on his way out, but he caught himself on a low hanging branch and levered himself free. Flecks of dirt and other matter clung to the skin of his legs. Even paled with chill, Gwaine could tell that Arthur’s legs were well formed.

“We can make a raft for the packs,” Arthur called over his shoulder, “help me gather sticks.”

Gwaine followed Arthur’s path to shore.

As they worked, they were careful to use the tree roots as stepping stones. If they left footprints, then that would defeat the whole purpose of using the river to disguise themselves. It made the process more complicated and slow going than it would have been otherwise, but eventually they gathered enough sticks to make a raft just big and sturdy enough to support two packs.

Arthur produced a spool of thread from his pack and at Gwaine’s questioning look, he said, “Merlin probably thought I’d need to darn something while I was waiting for him.”

“Do you know how to darn anything?”

“Do you?”

Gwaine chuckled and held up his hands. He knew when he’d been defeated.

He held the sticks in place as Arthur bound them together with the red thread he’d produced from his pack. The raft took shape. It was a bit lopsided, but when they tested it in the water, it floated even with the added weight of the packs and the swords.

“Not bad.” Arthur said, but his grin gave away how proud of himself he was.

It was a nice smile. It was crooked and warm, and it exposed the crooked set to his front teeth. Gwaine was oddly fascinated by the juxtaposition. Arthur was arrogant, straight laced, and stubborn. He was the image of a perfect prince, but these little imperfections made him endearingly human.

Arthur didn’t notice Gwaine staring. He pulled the raft back out of the water and left it resting on the bank. He straightened up, unbuckled his sword, and set that to the side as well. He turned to Gwaine.

“Any chance you’re willing to help with my chainmail?”

“Are you asking me to undress you, Sire?” Gwaine asked flirtatiously.

Arthur was handsome. Gwaine wasn’t going to apologize for taking his chance.

Arthur stood frozen for a second, like his brain had to catch up with what just happened. “It will make it easier to swim.”

“That’s a shame.” Gwaine said as he stood up and approached, “I was hoping to use this excuse for something more nefarious.”

Arthur muttered something that Gwaine didn’t catch, but still bowed his head and held out his arms. The chainmail slid off over his head with ease. It was heavy and cold in Gwaine’s hands. Arthur took it back and folded it as much as he could and stuffed it into his pack. Next came his gambeson. Gwaine was sure Arthur would stop there, but he didn’t. He stripped off his tunic and trousers as well, leaving him in only his small clothes.

It was Gwaine’s turn to stand frozen. He was getting the full force of Arthur’s bared form. His well-muscled chest and middle with enough padding around it that he didn’t look half starved.

“What?” Arthur snapped.

“Nothing.” Gwaine said, shaking himself, “Just enjoying the view. You’re a handsome fellow.”

Arthur preened a little under the attention and said, “Well you wouldn’t be the first to say it.”

The arrogance didn’t play quite as sincerely as Arthur was probably hoping. Gwaine was good at people. He could still see the flicker of surprise at the edges of Arthur’s arrogant smile.

Gwaine followed suit. He could see the wisdom of swimming in just small clothes. It would reduce the drag of the water, and while the weather was still fine, the nights could get chilly. Having dry clothes to slip into upon making camp would be a lot more comfortable than shivering in wet things hoping that their fire would dry them off. Especially if they planned to follow the river for some time.

He caught Arthur looking.

Gwaine flashed him a smile.

They’d lost a lot of daylight in the process of making the raft, but they still climbed back into the river. Now that they weren’t trying to slosh their way down stream, life was much easier. Swimming meant the current was doing most of the work for them. They were pushed along easily, and other than a few close calls with their raft, they managed to keep their packs dry.

When the sun began to sink below the horizon, they finally sloshed their way to shore. The trees were scarce, and what trees there were didn’t have big enough roots to poke out of the soil. There was nothing to be done about leaving tracks unless they wanted to spend the night in the river. Even if the water had been beautifully clear, they needed to dry off. Soaking in water too long could lead to all sorts of illnesses.

Arthur still stepped lightly in an attempt to obscure their prints.

Gwaine insisted on a fire over Arthur’s protests. They were both chilled from the water. A fire was a necessary risk to keep them both from suffering hypothermia caused by their own stupidity.

They redressed even though Gwaine was sorry to lose the view of Arthur’s bare chest.

After consulting their map and estimating the amount of miles they traveled that day, and estimating how much longer they would need to use the river, they sat back and dug into their food supplies. There wasn’t much in the way of food. They’d need to risk going into a town to resupply soon.

“Were you a knight?” Arthur asked, breaking the silence brought on by inhaling food at a ravenous pace.

Gwaine leaned back on his elbows, “My father was. Why?”

“You said you’d met royals, but you don’t speak like nobility. I thought perhaps you’d been a knight. I know not everyone follows the noble blood rule like Camelot does.”

“I met them growing up in Caerleon.”

“And found them lacking?”

“My father was Caerleon’s best knight.” Gwaine said, “He did fighting, and Caerleon left my family high and dry. Never saw a single coin of the pay we were promised if he died in the line of duty. I told you. They’re arrogant fools who let their people take the fall.”

Arthur was silent for a time, then he met Gwaine’s eyes across the fire and said, “Can’t say I’m particularly fond of royals right now either.”

“Something we agree on.” Gwaine said with a half-smile, “I’ll take first watch. Get some rest.”

For once, Arthur didn’t argue.

Chapter Text

“I don’t like the look of that sky.” Gwaine said.

Arthur looked up and made a face, “that looks like rain.” he agreed.

“We should stop and check the map, see if there’s anywhere we can go that might offer shelter.”

“While you do that, I’ll take a look around for firewood. We don’t want to wait until after the rain breaks or the wood will be too wet to light.”

Gwaine nodded in agreement and unfolded the map. They had followed the river as far as they could, but at a certain point they had no choice but to cut across land. Hopefully the river disguised enough of their tracks that no one would be able to track them. Of course, it could turn out to be an exercise in futility if Aredian had somehow discovered Arthur’s ultimate destination. Gwaine tried not to let that worry sink into his head. They would cross that bridge if they came to it. For now, they just needed to focus on reaching Tintagel.

He slipped the map out of his pack and spread it out on the grass. Miraculously, the miniature raft he and Arthur had built had worked well. None of their supplies got the slightest bit damp. The map was still in perfect condition. He used a couple of nearby stones to weigh down the corners, and traced his finger down the length of the river he and Arthur had ridden until the day before yesterday. Then he traced their route away from the river. After locating Tintagel again, Gwaine scanned the map for a route that would take them in the direction of Tintagel, but would offer them a potential for shelter. They were avoiding towns wherever possible. After it was clear that Aredian had heard from someone in Mercia, it was for the best. If they needed to go into town for resupply, Gwaine would go in while Arthur hid. That meant they couldn’t just make for a town and wait out the rain in the common room of a tavern. They’d have to find a way to rough it in the wild.

Arthur came back with a stack of wood in his arms and peered down at the map, “Any luck?”

Gwaine shrugged, “Plenty of towns near here, but we can’t risk going there.”

Arthur dumped his pile of firewood on the ground next to their packs and came to crouch next to Gwaine. Much like Gwaine had done, he located their rough position on the map and then left one finger on Tintagel as he searched. Gwaine could feel the heat of Arthur’s leg pressing against him. It was a shame that Arthur wore all that chainmail, Gwaine would have liked to feel Arthur’s shoulder against his too.

He was pulled out of his reverie by Arthur tapping definitively on a section of the map, “There. It’s a low ridge in the White Mountains. There’s bound to be at least one cave there.”

“It’s in the opposite direction from Tintagel. We’d have to cross back over the land we already crossed in order to get to it.”

“But it’s only a couple of hours from our current position. It’s that, or we risk either freezing to death in the rain or occupying a room in a tavern.”

“I don’t know, risking a room in a tavern sound like the best plan so far.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at Gwaine.

As if to emphasize his point, there was a loud rumble of thunder that shook the trees. A few icy raindrops splattered onto the back of Gwaine’s neck and hands.

“Fine.” Gwaine sighed, “You’re the Prince. We’ll do as you see fit, My Lord.”

“Finally, you give me my due.” Arthur joked, and that soft, crooked smile bloomed on his face, “Come on. Help me track down some more firewood. The flap on the pack should keep it dry enough to use once we reach a cave.”

Gwaine rolled up the map and tucked it away. Then he got to his feet and started scouring the ground for any materials that would be suitable to start a fire. He picked up handfuls of dead leaves, twigs, anything that was dry enough and could be crammed into a pack.

He rejoined Arthur at their packs and started loading them with the kindling and firewood. Once that was finished, they stood and slung their packs over their shoulders. Instantly, there was another thunderclap and the skies opened up.

Water poured down. Within seconds, Gwaine’s hair was flattened to his head and dripping down the back of his shirt. Arthur suffered the same fate. In Gwaine’s fantasies about getting to see Arthur dripping wet, he usually never looked so miserable about it. Arthur brushed his bangs out of his face, and made a disgruntled face at Gwaine. Like he was offended that it would dare rain on them while they were in the middle of a quest.

“Come on!” Arthur shouted over the rain, “We should be able to reach the ridge by midday!”

“Lead the way!” Gwaine shouted back, “You know the way better than I do!”

Arthur gestured for Gwaine to follow him, and set off in a seemingly random direction. Gwaine trudged along behind him.

The storm picked up in ferocity. Wind drove the water into the front of their shirts and tried to send them off course. Thunder rolled overhead, and lightning flashed in the distance, but still too close for Gwaine’s comfort. The grass was slippery beneath their boots and they were forced to lean into one another to keep from falling. By the time they reached the base of the ridge, Gwaine had so much water in his eyes he couldn’t see. Any attempt to wipe at his eyes only succeeded in making his vision blurrier as the water from his hands and sleeves was added to the mess. He didn’t know how Arthur expected to climb rocks in this weather.

Arthur stopped at the base of the ridge and squinted up at it. The surface was rock formation with grass growing in places where enough dirt had gathered. Boulders were scattered about in clumps, making examining the ridge difficult to observe in fair weather, let alone in the downpour they were currently facing. Arthur must have spotted something through the haze. He made for a section of the ridge to the south. It was all Gwaine could do to catch up.

By some blessing, the section of the ridge Arthur began to climb wasn’t steep. It had more grass than the other parts of the ridge. Though it wasn’t steep, it was still difficult to climb. The grass was more slippery on the rocky surface than in the valley below. They slowed. Better to soak through and live, than scurry to get out of the rain and break their necks. Arthur would mount one part of the ridge with Gwaine steadying him from behind, and then would turn and hold out his hand. Then he hauled Gwaine up. It was the best they could do given the circumstances. The process continued until they reached an outcropping that didn’t have any grass growing on it. Arthur turned and pressed his back to the wall, and shuffled sideways along the outcropping. Gwaine still hadn’t seen what Arthur had, but he trusted Arthur to get them where they needed to go.

Abruptly Arthur disappeared.

Panic spiked in Gwaine’s throat. For a moment he thought Arthur had slipped down the side of the mountain. He shuffled as quickly as he dared across the outcropping and came to the entrance to a cave. Arthur was standing just inside the entrance. Gwaine released a breath. Arthur was okay. He grinned and helped Gwaine hop down from the entrance into the cave proper.

The sounds of the storm were muted inside the cave. Wind whistled sharply passed the entrance. Thunder still rolled, and rain still fell. All of it seemed far away, though. It was hidden by the layers of rock protecting them from the elements.

“How did you spot this?” Gwaine asked incredulously.

“There was depression in the ridge and I tracked it to the opening.” Arthur answered. For once his voice carried no hint of cockiness to it. It was like he was taking credit for tying hi shoes, and not finding a nearly invisible entrance to a cave in the middle of storm.

A gust of wind whipped by the entrance, and gooseflesh broke out all along Gwaine’s arms and back. He rubbed his arms through the layers of fabric and nodded at Arthur’s pack. “Let’s see if there’s any still useable firewood in there.”

Arthur crouched down out of the wind still wending it’s way into the entrance, and dumped his pack onto the ground. Gwaine joined him, and they sorted through all they had collected. There wasn't much. They might be able to build a fire, but it wouldn’t be very big. They would have to dry what they collected and hope that they wouldn’t freeze.

They chose to make the fire near the entrance to the cave. It was damper there, but neither of them fancied dying from the fumes filling the cave. The smoke might give away their position, but it was doubtful anyone would be able to spot them in the storm. Arthur set the kindling and struck the flints together to get a fire going while Gwaine took out their map and stretched it out to keep it from retaining too much water and ruining the parchment. He managed to lay out their bedrolls as well without Arthur managing to light the fire.

“I wish Merlin was here.” Arthur said out of nowhere.

“Why’s that?” Gwaine asked, and slid the flints from Arthur’s numb fingers.

“He never has trouble starting a fire. It doesn’t matter how waterlogged the wood is, he can get it going in just a couple of minutes.”

“He go with you on quests often?”

“It’s either bring him along so I can keep an eye on him, or wait for him to catch up with me a few hours after I’ve left.”

“You two care about each other a great deal.” Gwaine said casually and let out a huff of triumph as he got their small fire going, “Anyone would think he was warming your bed when the servants weren’t looking.”

Arthur shook his head, “It isn’t like that between us. He’s… God help me, but I think Merlin is my best friend.”

Gwaine snorted out a laugh, “Don’t sound so horrified by it.”

“I’m not horrified by him, I’m horrified by how smug he would be if he ever knew I said it aloud.”

“Fair enough.” Gwaine said “For what it’s worth, I’m glad that it isn’t like that between you.”

“Why is that?”

“Then I couldn’t get you out of those wet clothes.”

Arthur blinked owlishly at Gwaine from across the fire. In the handful of weeks they’d been traveling together, it wasn’t often that Gwaine saw Arthur at a loss. He handled himself with an air of certainty that not many men possessed. Something about flirting, however, always made him stop short and look like someone was explaining the movements of the stars to him for the first time.

“You... want… to get me out of my wet clothes?” Arthur asked haltingly.

Gwaine stood and crossed to the other side of the fire, “And you’ll help me out of mine. So we don’t freeze while we wait for the storm to pass.”

Giving Arthur plenty of time to pull away if he didn’t want Gwaine’s help, Gwaine undid the belt at Arthur’s waist. The chainmail came next. In his hands, Arthur was pliant. He raised his arms reflexively without Gwaine having to tell him to. As Gwaine undid the laces of Arthur’s gambeson, Arthur watched him with a mystified smile on his face. Gwaine helped Arthur out of his tunic next, and rubbed his hands up and down Arthur’s arms, using the excuse of trying to rub some warmth back into Arthur’s limbs. Arthur dropped his eyes, looking a bit shy. Gwaine never thought Arthur Pendragon could be shy.

“You can take off mine in return you know.”

“Sorry.” Arthur mumbled and raised chilly fingers to Gwaine’s belt.

He helped Gwaine out of his jacket and shirt as well, his fingered clumsy and cold on Gwaine’s skin. Gwaine didn’t mind. He caught one of Arthur’s hands between his own, and blew some warm air across it. Then did the same to the other side.

“Boots and trousers too.” Gwaine prompted gently.

Arthur kicked his boots off and left them standing by the fire. Next came his trousers, revealing the firm muscles and pale skin of his thighs. Gwaine leaned back on his elbows just to watch. Arthur in movement was gorgeous.

“Do you take your own trousers off, or do I help?” Arthur asked, looking at a loss.

“I can do that.” Gwaine teased. He kicked off his own boots and stood to slip out of his trousers. He made a bit of a show of it, flexing and stretching unnecessarily for Arthur’s benefit.

Their clothes were stretched out by the fire next to their bed rolls, and they stood looking at each other in their small clothes. Arthur swallowed and glanced away. He didn’t hunch his shoulders like someone who was self-conscious might. Gwaine took that to mean Arthur simply felt awkward, not ashamed. Easy way to fix that.

Again making sure to give Arthur enough time to pull away if he didn’t want this, Gwaine stepped up to him and slid a hand into Arthur’s hair, “What do you say?” Gwaine asked softly, “Let me kiss you?”

“I suppose you have to prove all those tall tales true.” Arthur said, relying on his arrogance to see him through.

“Trust me. They are.” Gwaine promised and drew Arthur down into a kiss.

Arthur let out a soft gasp of surprise, like he hadn’t expected Gwaine to actually go through with it. Gwaine took the opportunity granted and tested how Arthur might react to another’s tongue. There was a little huff of sound from deep within his chest, not quite loud enough to be a groan. Then Arthur’s hand slid up Gwaine’s back and came to rest on the back of Gwaine’s neck, pulling him in.

Gwaine pulled back for air and nosed along the chilly skin of Arthur’s jaw, “Come to my bed roll. You need to warm up.”

They stumbled over to the fire and sunk to Gwaine’s bedroll less than gracefully. Gwaine slid his hand underneath Arthur’s thigh and guided it up so that Arthur’s leg wrapped around Gwaine’s hip. Arthur looked at him with wonder. It was a heady experience that left Gwaine breathless. None of his lovers in the past had ever looked at him like that. With some gentle coaching, he brought Arthur’s hand to join his between their bodies.

With the storm still raging outside, they rocked together until they were warm and sated.

Gwaine collapsed next to Arthur on the bedroll and grinned at him. Arthur flashed a sot, slightly dazed smile in return. Gwaine sat up and retrieved a blanket that was only slightly damp and draped it over the two of them, then he tugged on Arthur’s arm until Arthur took the hint and curled around so his head came to rest on Gwaine’s chest. They fell asleep just like that.

The fire kept them warm through the night. Arthur only had to toss some extra wood on once.

*

“Up, Gwaine.” a voice said and something landed on Gwaine’s face.

He startled awake, battled with the fabric covering his face, and sat up. Arthur was already dressed in his chainmail once more, and was bent over the fire warming something.

“You’re up early.” Gwaine said, voice still hoarse from sleep, “Thought we had at least another hour together.”

“Storm stopped.”

The fabric turned out to be Gwaine’s shirt and trousers. He slid the trousers on first and joined Arthur by the fire. He was heating some water with some herbs in. The cave was still chilly. Gwaine assumed it was a tea or broth to warm them up. Arthur still hadn’t looked at him.

“Arthur?” Gwaine asked.

“What?” Arthur snapped back.

“Is everything alright?” Only it’s just that I went to sleep cuddling you and now you’re more interested in tea than a good morning kiss.”

Arthur’s shoulders hunched up and without taking his eyes off the pot, he said, “I assumed you had gotten your fill last night.”

“What made you think that?”

“I don’t know.” Arthur said sarcastically, turning to face Gwaine, “The stories about your endless string of lovers?”

“Fair, but it’s not like you don’t have a list just as long.”

Arthur didn’t respond to that.

“Do you not?” Gwaine asked uncertainly, “Was last night--”

“Last night was not my first time, don’t be so melodramatic.”

“Alright, then tell me what’s going on. We have to have each other’s backs out here, and we can’t do that if we’re angry with each other.”

With a pained expression, Arthur said, “I don’t have a long list. Sex isn’t all that appealing to me. So when it is appealing, it’s because I've already grown to... care... about the other person. Given that until recently I was a prince, and then I was being held prisoner, you can safely assume that the number of people I’ve had the chance to care about is small. I don’t do casual.”

“Hey.” Gwaine said, squeezing Arthur’s shoulder bracingly, “I like you, Arthur. Didn’t think I would, given that you’re a royal and a royal pain in the ass, but you’re gorgeous and clever and a million other things besides. And I like your friends. I’m not going anywhere once we reach Tintagel.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to make room for you, then.”

“Suppose you will.”

Chapter Text

It took them an extra day to get back to where the storm drove them off course, just as Gwaine suspected it would. Though given what happened the night they spent in the cave, he couldn’t call it a waste of time. Not when Arthur spent most nights pressed close to Gwaine. It didn’t matter who was on shift to keep watch, Arthur always kept at least one limb brushing against Gwaine. Something about it melted Gwaine’s heart.

Arthur cared. That’s what it kept coming back to. Every time Gwaine couldn’t figure out why he felt so wrapped up in Arthur, he would remember that simple fact. Arthur wasn’t like most royals Gwaine had met. Hell, he wasn’t like most people he’d met. Caring that deeply was a trait not found in many. Try as he might, now that Gwaine knew Arthur and was friends with him, there was no way for Arthur to hide it under layers of arrogance. Arthur wanted Gwaine to be safe. He wanted Camelot to flourish and be at peace, and he wanted Merlin (and the others he left back in Camelot) to be happy. He must get it from his mother. Uther was not known for his tenderness.

Gwaine wondered if he had Merlin to thank for keeping Arthur in touch with his kind heart.

The sun dawned over the woods and Gwaine leaned down and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple, murmuring, “It’s morning, lazy bones, up you get.”

Arthur’s eyes cracked open and he squinted at Gwaine while still half asleep, “M’not lazy. I was up half the night making sure no attackers came along and ruined your good looks.”

“Take it from me, never bet your hair when you gamble.” Gwaine said wisely, “The winner will take far too much pleasure in shaving you bald.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I find time to go gambling.”

“Should be able to find it soon.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked and propped himself on his elbow.

Gwaine gestured to the map, “Between here and Tintagel, we have no choice but to pass through villages. We can resupply at any point along here, which we desperately need to do because I don’t trust your mushroom foraging skills--”

“Says the man who stuck his hand in active beehive.” Arthur grumbled.

“But,” Gwaine continued, “there is no way to get to Tintagel without going through at least one village. Curse of it being a castle.”

Arthur sat up properly and Gwaine smiled at Arthur’s bedhead. It was endearing. Arthur squinted down at the map, taking a moment to comprehend their route in his groggy state.

“Damn it.” Arthur said and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Being spotted in a village near Tintagel will tell Aredian and my father exactly where we’re going.”

“Assuming they don’t already know. How well does your father know your mind?”

“If this was before the troll’s magic, I would say he already knows. Now, it depends on how well Aredian can steer him while he’s battling the enchantment.”

“Then let’s assume they’re planning to check Tintagel just in case.”

“So you’re saying we’re screwed.”

“I’m saying that we should eat the end of the cheese while we walk.” Gwaine said, rolling up the map, “Better to get to Tintagel before them. At least we stand a shot in hell of defending ourselves there.”

Arthur rolled to his feet and started packing. He paused with his bedroll pressed against his chest and looked at Gwaine, “I know you said you weren’t going to leave, but you don’t have to come to Tintagel with me. I asked for your help, but you don’t owe me your loyalty.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m staying.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, I’m not likely to find someone like you anywhere else.” Gwaine said with an intentionally corny look at Arthur’s body, “Secondly, your odds look between slim and none. I like the look of those odds.”

“I’m surrounded by madmen.” Arthur said despairingly, “Between you and Merlin, I’ll never get any rest.”

Gwaine snorted and dragged Arthur in for a rough kiss, “You say that like you’re not a madman yourself.”

“In comparison to you two, I’m a lump of wood.”

“A pretty lump of wood.”

That made Arthur smile. It felt like a victory.

They finished packing and walked with a piece of cheese each to nibble on. It was the last of what was in their packs. They’d been putting off entering villages for obvious reasons, but even if Tintagel hadn’t been surrounded by villages, they would have been forced to go in. If it was just a supply run, then Arthur could have stayed in the woods outside, but as it was Arthur would have no choice but to go in too.

“We could disguise you.” Gwaine suggested as they walked.

“How do you suggest we do that?”

“Got a cloak in there?”

“You’ve seen the contents of my bag, Gwaine. Have you seen a cloak?”

“So a cloak is out. We could rub mud in your hair to make it look black?”

“Does that actually work outside of tales?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I am not letting you rub mud in my hair.” Arthur said haughtily, “I’ll take my chainmail off, alright? Without my chainmail and not traveling alone, no one will look twice at me.”

“Still think we should hide your face.”

Arthur muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘I think we should hide your face’ and surged ahead. Gwaine took a few jogging steps to catch up.

They agreed to enter the first village, furthest from the border. Hopefully, as long as Aredian wasn’t aware of what they planned to do, the story of two young men entering a village on their way to somewhere else would go overlooked by him. They also agreed to let Gwaine do all the talking. Or rather, Gwaine suggested he do all the talking since Arthur’s accent would give him away as being wealthy, and Arthur didn’t have a good come back for that and agreed to get Gwaine to shut up.

The village wasn’t much bigger than Ealdor. There were a handful more houses, and slightly less livestock this close to the sea, they could rely more easily on fish than on farming. The biggest difference was the addition of a proper tavern. The sign had long faded. Gwaine suspected that they didn’t get many visitors and didn’t see the point in repainting for the locals.

Arthur kept his head down as they walked, pretending to be absorbed with the map.

A few curious glances came their way, but they didn’t linger long. Arthur’s chainmail had been stashed away in his pack. There was nothing else that would have made them stand out.

Gwaine led the way directly to the tavern. He pushed the door open and swung inside with a bright grin that hopefully made him look like he was willing to drink. Arthur stayed lurking in the shadows by the door to remain obscured. Gwaine proceeded directly to the barmaid wiping down cups.

“Any chance you have a room available?” Gwaine asked, leaning against the countertop.

The barmaid looked up from the glasses and smiled politely, “Just one, I’m afraid. I don’t know if that’s a problem for you two.”

“Not in the least. We’re newlyweds, you see. On our way to a little farm my family left me.”

“That’s sweet!” She set aside her cups and slid open a drawer underneath the bar. She pulled out a weathered brass key, “We take three silver up front, and the last two when you leave.”

Gwaine winced a bit at the price, but dug into his pack to retrieve his coin purse.

Suddenly a warm body was pressed against his back, and Arthur whispered, “He’s here.”

Gwaine’s head snapped up and he scanned the tavern. The common room was decently filled for the time of day, and sitting in the corner was Aredian. He didn’t seem to have noticed them yet. If he had, he probably would have been calling for Arthur’s immediate capture. His attention was held by the piece of parchment he was reading.

Arthur snatched the key out of the barmaid’s hand and moved quickly but calmly to the stairs. The barmaid blinked, and opened her mouth to call after him. Gwaine beat her to the punch.

“We’re eager for some time alone.” he explained, “Wasn’t much privacy before we were married, and then we traveled in the woods. Not the most romantic place with the bears and wolves.” He pressed all five coins of their total payment into her hands, “Five for the night, right?”

“Right.” she agreed, “I understand being eager. My husband and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other after we first got married.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

Gwaine offered her one last charming smile and made for the stairs.

When he reached the landing, a door at the end of the hall creaked open just enough for him to see the edge of Arthur’s profile. He jogged up to the door and Arthur swung it open at the last possible moment. As soon as Gwaine was inside Arthur slammed the door shut and locked it.

“Did Aredian spot you?” he asked.

“Not that I could see.” Gwaine said.

Arthur breathed out a small sigh of relief and sagged onto the end of the bed. Gwaine winced. He knew better than to trust a bed at a tavern. He’d had enough fleas to last him a lifetime. He chose to tell Arthur about it later. Right now, Arthur needed a moment to collect himself.

Gwaine took the opportunity to look around the room. It was small and rather shabby. There was a window, which was a surprise given how much they paid. In the other inns and taverns that Gwaine had stayed in over the years, a window was an extra charge. The bed currently occupied by Arthur had a wool blanket over the top. It was worn thin, and might have once been green but now was a sickly shade of grey. All the more reason not to trust it. There was no table in the room. It was probably meant to encourage people to dine downstairs in the common room. The closer they were to the mead, the more likely they would be to spend their coin on it. There was a fine layer of dust on every surface. All in all, it wasn’t the best room Gwaine had stayed in, but it also wasn’t the worst.

“We’re out of luck, aren’t we?” Arthur asked at last, without meetings Gwaine’s eyes.

“To be fair, we might have been out of luck from the moment Aredian arrived in Camelot. Man can sniff out sorcerers who haven’t even used their magic. Not all that surprising that he could track down on runaway prince.”

“What do we do? We can’t sneak by him while he’s in the common room.”

“You’re the strategy expert, not me.”

“Gwaine,” Arthur said tiredly, and finally lifted his head, “I can tell you a hundred different ways to fight battles or stage rescues in a castle, but neither of those skills are suited for this. I’ve been hiding my tracks, but clearly that hasn’t been enough. You, however, have been getting into scrapes and misadventures for most of your life and are still here. Any advice you have, I want to hear.”

Gwaine sat on the floor with his back pressed up against the wall and thought about it. He wasn’t inclined to leave the tavern. Arthur was right when he said Gwaine had many misadventures in the past, but even he was growing sick of camping out in the woods. They needed proper rest. Besides, Aredian hadn’t spotted them. For now they were safe inside their room. Unless Aredian had the ability to see through walls. Which, given his uncanny ability to dig up information, Gwaine wouldn’t put past him.

“We should spend the night here.” Gwaine said at last, “I’ll leave in a few minutes when the common room is empty and stock up on supplies. We’ll sneak out at first light.”

“I need to avoid the common room as much as possible.” Arthur said, “If there is even the slightest chance that Aredian may spot me, then I can’t risk it.”

“How do you propose you get out of here?”

Arthur inclined his head towards the window.

“And you said Merlin and I were madmen.”

“You are. Merlin was the one who helped me sneak out a window in the first place.”

“Tricky, that Merlin.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Arthur agreed.

“I’ll cause a distraction downstairs if it looks like we need one. Can you make it safely from the window to the ground?”

Arthur stood up and walked over to the window and looked out. His eyes were sharp and assessing as scanned the surroundings.

“I can reach the roof of the stables from here. Then I can jump from there to the pile of hay.”

“Just remember that you if break your neck, Merlin and your other friend won’t buy me the drink they promised.”

“Your concern is touching.”

“I am concerned, you know.” Gwaine said and Arthur turned to face him, “I’m fond of you now, princess.”

Arthur’s face wrinkled up in annoyance at the nickname, but he came to join Gwaine on the floor, “I’m fond of you too.”

Neither of them moved. They stayed where they were, exhaustion pressing on their eyelids and dragging their limbs. Gwaine was never going to complain about being tired again. This journey had been unexpectedly grueling. It was worth it, to stick with Arthur, but he’d never walked so many miles in a day every day. He’d never spent this much time camping out in the woods or wading through difficult terrain. Arthur forded the river with relative ease and climbed rocks in the rain with complete confidence that he would get there. Gwaine had only been certain because Arthur was certain. It was just as much the physical toll as the mental. He could say with absolute certainty that he hated being hunted.

By the time Gwaine opened his eyes again. Night had fallen. His neck was cramping from falling asleep sitting against the wall. Arthur was still sound asleep. His face was pressed into Gwaine’s shoulder and it squished up the skin of his cheek comically. Gwaine was struck dumb by it. He’d never had a good chance to see Arthur dead asleep like this. When they had been out in the woods, Arthur was still aware while he slept. But here, behind a locked door, he finally relaxed. Dark shadows had built under his eyes, and Gwaine wondered why he never noticed them before. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and smoothed a thumb over the dark smudges. Arthur let out a soft sigh and rolled his head so that it was tucked close to Gwaine’s neck. Gwaine blinked, clearing unexpected tears from his eyes, and threaded his fingers through Arthur’s hair. It didn’t matter that it was greasy. Gwaine just didn’t want to let go.

Eventually he had to drag himself away. Supplies were still on the list of tasks to complete before they left. He slid his fingers from Arthur’s hair and knocked his knuckles gently against Arthur’s bicep.

“Arthur, time for you to move.”

Arthur groaned and cracked his eyes open. He pulled back from Gwaine, and squinted at him hazily, “Where are you going?”

“Have to resupply. I’ll be back.”

Arthur nodded and waved Gwaine away. Gwaine stood and cracked his back. Then fished his coin purse out of his pack. He left Arthur’s alone. He may not mind Gwaine using it, but Gwaine wanted to be sure that Arthur could trust him. They’d grown close fast, and that meant there would be room for doubt for a while yet. Arthur was already stretched out on the floor asleep when Gwaine reached the door. Another swell of affection squeezed his heart in his chest, and he couldn’t help a small smile in Arthur’s direction.

Gwaine locked the door behind him and pocketed the key. He approached the stairs with caution and leaned his head over the banister to scan the common room. No Aredian.

He jogged down the stairs, waved hello to the barmaid, and left via the front door.

The last clouds from the storm had finally vanished off the horizon, but this early in the evening there were no stars visible yet. It was just the streaks of deep blue and dusky orange. The wind was fresh and slightly salty from the sea. It tingled on Gwaine’s skin.

It took some asking around, but he tracked down a few of the locals who were willing to sell him some of the supplies they had in their cupboards. A bit of cheese here, the end of a loaf of bread there. He got some dried meat from the farmer at the edge of the village, and his wife threw in some apples free of charge because she liked “the look of Gwaine’s smile”. The farmer had rolled his eyes at his wife’s antics, and shuffled Gwaine along.

Gwaine approached the tavern, and ducked back behind a barrel. Aredian was back. He was hovering on the tavern steps and looking out across the village. When his eyes swept towards the barrel Gwaine was hidden behind, he caught himself holding his breath.

Aredian turned and reentered the tavern.

Gwaine changed tactics. He snuck over to the stable Arthur had pointed out, and used the cart full of hay to boost himself up. He grabbed hold of the edge of the overhang, swung his leg up, and hauled himself onto the roof. From there he moved to the opposite end. It would be a jump but there was enough of a roof to the tavern steps that he could use it to crawl through the window of their room. He tossed the pack first so the extra weight wouldn’t throw him off, and then backed up a couple of steps. With a running leap, he launched himself off the roof of the stable and tumbled to a stop on the wooden overhand that protected the steps. His shins would have bruises, but he wouldn’t attract Aredian’s attention.

He leaned the foot to knock on the window.

A moment later, Arthur’s face appeared in the glass. His lips pursed, his brow furrowed, and his nose wrinkled. He struggled to get the window open, and then helped pull Gwaine inside with that same expression of consternation and confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Aredian was in the common room. Didn’t want to give away your position.”

Arthur snorted and shook his head, “Well, at least we know that my escape plan works.”

Chapter Text

Arthur hit the ground with a soft thump and straightened up. Gwaine hopped down after him and brushed away the hay clinging to his trousers. Most of the village was still asleep this early. Only the farmer and his rooster seemed to be awake and getting work done. Otherwise, windows remained dark, and there was no one else puttering about the village.

They had no idea where Aredian was. He could still be asleep in his room in the tavern, or he could already be on his way to Tintagel. Gwaine hadn’t bothered to check the common room. He realized that if he recognized Aredian after seeing him once, then there was every chance that Aredian would remember him too. As such, he’d followed Arthur out the window. They’d already paid for the night anyway.

The key to the room was sitting neatly on the end of the bed. When the barmaid, or whoever took over for her in the wee hours. Came to see if they would be staying another night, they would simply assume Arthur and Gwaine left when they weren’t looking.

Silent as shadows, they slipped away from the stable. No one saw them as they exited the village and headed south towards Tintagel.

The pace they kept was quicker today. If they moved at the brisk pace then they had a shot of making Tintagel by the time night fell. If they took a break to eat or rest, then they would reach Tintagel after dark. The best option was to push on and hope that they wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark for very long.

Each of them chewed on a small piece of bread as they walked. Hopefully they would reach Tintagel by the end of the day. From there it would be much easier for Gwaine to go into the surrounding villages to collect supplies. He hadn’t asked what Arthur had originally planned to do when he reached Tintagel. Unless Uther had wanted Arthur to get hands on experiences before taking over the role of king, Gwaine doubted that Arthur knew how to farm. Even maintaining a small garden to feed only himself would be difficult. Then again, the original plan had been for Merlin to meet Arthur at Tintagel. Perhaps Merlin knew something about farming from growing up in Ealdor. For both their sake’s Gwaine hoped so. It would be a shame for them to starve to death.

“What’s Tintagel like?” Gwaine asked as they walked.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur admitted with a thoughtful frown. “I haven’t been there since I was a child. I think it was too painful for my father to revisit after my mother’s death. Then there were border squabbles with Essetir and Mercia, and suddenly we could barely ride to our borders, let alone cross them.”

“But cross them you have.”

“Now. I haven’t crossed them since I was twelve, the last time we rode out to make a peace treaty with Caerleon.”

“Strange to think that we could have met as children.” Gwaine mused, “I was still living there at the time.”

“We never met.” Arthur said.

Gwaine huffed a laugh and slung his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, “Way to spoil the whimsy of youth.”

“I know we didn’t meet. If we had, I would have remembered you.”

“Oh yeah?”

Arthur shot Gwaine a look from the corner of his eye, “You’re a couple years older than me, handsome, and good with a sword. I would have been in awe of you. I wasn’t in awe of anyone in Caerleon.”

Gwaine opened his mouth to retort but anything clever he had to say stuck in his throat. That was the most roundabout romantic declaration he’d ever heard, but it felt like something straight out of a ballad. Arthur kept himself closed off to most. The way Merlin had spoken about him and the experience Gwaine had had with him, he suspected that Arthur kept a very tight circle of people he trusted unconditionally. Admitting that Gwaine was handsome and that a young Arthur would have developed a fascination was as good as Arthur confessing his undying love.

“I probably would have hated you.” Gwaine said without removing his arm, “Jumped up little princeling who thought he could hold his own against someone like my father. Glad I met you when I’m no longer an idiot. Yes, I know that was a set up to make fun of me, don’t take it.”

There was a soft snort from Arthur and he elbowed Gwaine off of him. There was a beat where Gwaine was worried that Arthur had missed the point of the confession, but Arthur was smiling. It was small, tucked into one corner of his mouth, the one that always tugged back furthest to give him that classic crooked smile Gwaine had grown fond of over the last few weeks.

Silence descended again. There wasn’t much to discuss any longer. They were in the end stages of their journey, and they couldn’t afford to deviate from their plan. They needed to reach Tintagel before Aredian did, and considering how close they’d come to being caught already there was no room for error. At midday, Gwaine suggested they stop and rest. Arthur waved away the suggestion, and they paused just long enough to drink from their water skins and take an apple each from their packs. They ate as they walked.

Gwaine was looking forward to Tintagel if for no other reason than he wouldn’t have to keep walking.

“Why the long face?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur’s vacant expression snapped back to attention and he looked over at Gwaine, “I don’t think Aredian will stop at the border.”

“I don’t think he will either. He has free reign in all of the five kingdoms except for Gawant.”

“Why is he not given free rein in Gawant?”

“Lord Godwin is freer with the laws regarding magic than the other four kingdoms. As long as no one uses it to hurt anyone, then he lets people be. Even so, Aredian is given free passage through the kingdom as long as he doesn’t bother anyone either.”

“Surprisingly progressive for the five kingdoms.” Arthur said bitterly.

“That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?”

“Says who?”

Gwaine shrugged. It was just a hunch. For Arthur to be so lost in his own thoughts, then there was more to this than just Aredian. Aredian had been a concern for this entire journey, but it wasn’t until today that Arthur was so silent and lost. Not even when they didn’t know each other yet and were struggling to make conversation with one another.

“If Aredian isn’t going to respect the borders, then I don’t think my father will either.” Arthur said finally.

“Might be the case.” Gwaine agreed, “If he sent the Witch Hunter after you, then I don’t think he’s going to let treaties stop him.”

Arthur stopped walking and turned to face Gwaine. Arthur was frowning, and he didn’t quite meet Gwaine’s eyes as he said, “Last chance to drop out before we cross over the border and reach Tintagel.”

“Last chance for what?”

“Last chance to save your own skin. Go back to Caerleon or travel on to the kingdoms in the far south. I can’t guarantee your safety if we face down Aredian and anyone else my father send after me.”

“I’ve already been to the kingdoms in the far south.” Gwaine said, rocking back on his heels, “I haven’t faced down an enchanted king and his ghouls. And you know what they say.”

“No. What do they say?”

“Variety is the spice of life.”

Arthur snorted and punched Gwaine lightly on eh shoulder, “Just promise me you’ll come out of this unharmed, alright? I’ve had enough of people getting hurt because of me.”

“Who knew the son of Uther Pendragon could be so sentimental.”

“Ah, that’s where my father’s reputation is wrong.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that my father is above all a sentimentalist.” Arthur said, “He started a purge in my mother’s memory. He’s tried to marry me off to anyone who might give him an advantageous match for Camelot so that he can maintain Pendragon control of it for generations to come. He sent a Witch Hunter after me in the name of his late second wife who he doesn’t know was a troll. He can just get away with not being called a sentimental fool because he’s a king.”

Gwaine had never thought of it in those terms. He supposed that kingdoms themselves were one large monument for the generations who ruled before. Funny that. Funnier still that it took a deposed prince to spell it out.

“Guess you came by your sentimentality honest, then.”

“Yeah.” Arthur said with an amused smile. He tugged Gwaine in and brushed a quick kiss against the corner of Gwaine’s mouth. The smile was still there when he pulled back, “I do.”

Gwaine rather liked being the thing Arthur was sentimental about.

They reached the border in the early hours of dusk. They would be left to walk to Tintagel in the dark, but they would make it there before a new day dawned. That was all that really mattered. Organizing defenses could be done in the light of day after a good rest.

As long as their luck held, Aredian would not reach them in the next couple of days. We was still traveling with a cart, and that made him slow. He had to stick to roads worn smooth by other carts. Unlike Gwaine and Arthur who could cut the gaps between villages in half by cutting through overgrown sections of the woods. Aredian wouldn’t dare ditch his cart either, especially if he knew that Arthur was waiting for him in Tintagel. How else was he meant to drag Arthur back to Camelot? Much easier to keep him tied up and thrown in the back of the cart like a sack than try to lash him to a horse. Getting Arthur to walk back would require leaving his feet untied, and a warrior like Arthur having any part of his body free was asking for disaster. So Aredian would have no choice but to keep his cart, and that bought them time. Hopefully enough time to prepare.

The border itself wasn’t marked by anything special. Essetir had been separated from Camelot by the ridge, and Mercia and Caerleon were separated from the rest of the five kingdoms by the White Mountains. Tintagel simply opened up. The number of trees reduced and what trees there were, were different than the ones they had been living in the last few weeks. Stepping into Tintagel was emerging from the darkness.

“Almost there.” Arthur said.

It was difficult to read his tone, and Gwaine didn’t try to read deeper into it. Arthur was expressive. If his voice was unreadable, then he was doing it intentionally. Better to leave him to his privacy.

Gwaine hitched his pack higher on his shoulders and patted Arthur on the back, “We better keep moving, then.”

They walked for a few minutes, letting the light of the moon guide them. It was a peaceful night. There was nothing much to be heard other than the chittering of night creatures and the whisper of wind in grass.

The flicker of a campfire caught Gwaine’s attention and he caught Arthur’s sleeve, then nodded in its direction. Arthur nodded in understanding, and they diverted their path. No saying who was around the fire. Could be another traveler just minding their business, or it could be Aredian’s fire. Gwaine doubted that he would have beaten them across the border, but he didn’t think they would see Aredian back at the tavern. It could be anyone. It could be--

“Halt!” a voice called, “Show yourselves!”

It could be knights on border patrol.

Arthur cursed under his breath. Gwaine did the same. Knights. Always had to be knights.

“How can I help you fine gentlemen?” Gwaine asked and turned to face them.

This far from the campfire, it was impossible to discern any details from the knight’s face. All Gwaine could tell was that he was carrying a sword, and the sigil sewn into his cape was one Gwaine didn’t recognize. He assumed it the sigil of Tintagel.

“The border has been closed by order of King Uther. Declare your intentions for crossing.”

“Uther has no claim over Tintagel.” Arthur said sharply, “It belongs to Prince Arthur.”

“Where have you been?” the knight asked, “Living under a rock? Prince Arthur is dead. King Uther is his next closest relative, so Tintagel passes to him.”

“Then the estate should be managed by Lord Agravaine DuBois, not Uther. Agravaine was Queen Ygraine’s brother.”

“Lord Agravaine signed over management of the estate shortly after Prince Arthur went missing.”

“I thought you said he was dead.”

“May as well be.” the knight said with a casual shrug, “Rumor has it they have the Witch hunter out after him, but if the Witch Hunter still hasn’t found him, the Prince is probably dead.”

Gwaine stepped in before Arthur could start ranting and raving about how he wasn’t dead, and asked, “When did Lord Agravaine sign over the management?”

“Few weeks ago.”

Right around the same time Uther brought Aredian in. Gwaine suppressed a shiver. He didn’t want to think about what Aredian has done to convince a lord to sign over an entire estate. Even one he hadn't been living in.

“Anyway, you aren’t here to question me.” the knight said, “I’m here to find out what you’re doing. Why are you trying to cross into Tintagel?”

“Visiting family.” Arthur answered bluntly.

“What family?”

“My mother.”

“Why are you sneaking across the border in the middle of the night to visit your mother?”

“Eager to get some decent cooking.” Gwaine answered, “Neither of us can cook if our lives depend on it. We know enough to keep ourselves from getting sick, and sometimes not even that.”

The knight shook his head, “I don’t like this. Come with me back to the campfire so we can sort out what’s going on here.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“My mother will be worried about us.” Arthur chimed in.

“No. No, you’re going to come with me. Come on.”

The knight reached out, and Gwaine reacted on instinct. He hadn’t yet drawn his sword, so his arm struck out blindly. He punched the knight in the nose. There was a crack and a moment of silence as the shock wore off.

“I’m under attack!” the knight bellowed, “I’m under attack!”

The reaction was instantaneous. Knights poured in from surrounding trees, they left the safety of the fire, and all of them were carrying swords.

Arthur drew his own sword and hissed to Gwaine, “You couldn’t have just stabbed him?”

“Wasn’t thinking.” Gwaine said and drew his own sword, “Think we should probably run.”

Arthur’s eyes flicked across their opponents, likely working out the odd. An entire patrol of armed knights against two men. There was no way they could win. It didn’t matter that Gwaine and Arthur were some of the best fighters out there. Numbers always won.

“Run.” Arthur agreed, and set off at a sprint.

Gwaine set off after him. The knights were forced to move to the side or be knocked over. A few took the opportunity to attack, and the tip of one sword ripped the sleeve of Gwaine’s shirt. When the adrenaline faded, he would be able to tell whether it had cut his arm, but there was no way of telling when his heart was pounding in his chest and his vision had narrowed to the sight of Arthur’s back.

Knights charged after them, gaining with every step they took. Gwaine and Arthur were exhausted from weeks of walking on not enough food. Neither of them wanted to fight their way out of it, but if they were caught they would have no choice but to try. They would probably lose.

They used the dark to their advantage. There weren’t as many trees as there were in Essetir or Camelot, but there were enough. The trees became their defense.

Out of nowhere, Arthur’s hand darted out. He caught Gwaine around the bicep and yanked. Gwaine was pulled off his feet, and he stumbled forward to keep from hitting the ground. Strong arms circled Gwaine’s chest and drew him close. It was only the familiarity of Arthur’s arms that kept Gwaine from lashing out.

“Just stay quiet, let them go by.” Arthur whispered.

Gwaine nodded and adjusted his grip on his sword so he could swing it without hitting Arthur. He could hear footsteps muffled by the grass.

“See them?” someone called, standing far too close to their tree for comfort.

This strategy would have worked so much better in the woods that stretched through Essetir.

“No!” someone called back.

“Search the trees!” a third voice ordered, “They’re hiding here somewhere!”

Arthur unwound his arms from Gwaine’s chest. Even in the dark, they made eye contact. Gwaine nodded. Sneaking by these people was spectacularly stupid, but it was their best choice. Good thing Gwaine liked stupid.

Staying close to the ground, Arthur led the way.

It was slow going. They were forced to stop behind every tree as they went, and then poke their heads around the trunks to check the location of the other knights.

Slowly but surely, the campfire faded from sight. The voices became distant whispers until they too were lost in the distance. At that point, they mad a break for it. They ran until their chests heard with exertion and they couldn’t run any further. As far as Gwaine could tell, no one had followed them.

He and Arthur stumbled to a stop and bent double trying to catch their breath. Arthur let out a barking laugh, breathless from running. It was a bright sound, joyful in the face of it all.

They had made it into Tintagel.

Chapter Text

Tintagel castle was small by the standards of a castle. It didn’t have the towering turrets of Camelot castle, the thick defensive walls like Essetir, or the confusing switchbacks leading to it like Caerleon. It felt more like an oversized stone cottage than an actual castle. But even in the moonlight, it was beautiful. Carefully pruned vines climbed the walls, and elaborate stone work formed patterns in the structure itself. A few of the windows were cracked with age and neglect, but even so the stained glass was still visible.

Arthur stood in the courtyard, contemplating it closely. Gwaine wanted to get inside. He was ready to drop from exhaustion and all he wanted was a good night’s sleep where he didn’t have to worry about someone keeping watch. It didn’t seem like a moment to interrupt Arthur, though. He hadn’t been here since he was a small child, and it had been tended to be his uncle until a few weeks ago. (Gwaine thought Agravaine should have done a better job of maintaining it for his nephew, but that was beside the point.) It must be strange for Arthur to come back. One part homecoming, one part the very symbol of his unofficial exile. A connection to his mother and a disconnection from his father all wrapped up in stone and glass.

“We should go inside.” Arthur said at last.

“Lead the way, Princess.”

Arthur ignored the nickname in favor of entering the castle.

The interior of Tintagel Castle was dusty. They hadn’t lit torches before entering, but Gwaine could smell the best of decades lingering on the stone. It made his nose itch. Without torches, they were forced to move slowly through the entryway. There were great stone steps at one side of the entry, visible even in the gloom of night. There was a piece of furniture in the entryway as well. Maybe a table, but there was no way to tell. It was covered with a sheet.

“Chambers will be upstairs.” Arthur said, and walked across to the stairs.

Climbing stairs in the dark proved to be difficult. Gwaine stubbed his toe twice on the way up. Infuriatingly, Arthur didn’t have any trouble. Ass probably climbed stairs in the dark all the time in Camelot.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they froze.

One of the chambers was already occupied. The door was wide open, and firelight was pouring out into the hall. Voices could be heard just faintly from their position. Gwaine was certain that Aredian couldn’t have reached them yet. He had to be stuck on the roads, and the roads added at least another day onto his journey. Bandits? An abandoned castle would make a good hiding place. Especially if Lord Agravaine only paid to maintain the gardens outside and didn’t bother with the interior.

Arthur’s shoulders slumped with defeat, and he drew his sword. They’d avoided coming to blows with the knights at the border, but the only way to avoid this fight would be to turn around and leave. That was not something they could do unless they wanted to tangle with Aredian.

Gwaine drew his sword as well.

“Wait,” a voice inside the room said, “did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Sounded like a sword being drawn.”

“I think you’re just paranoid. Go to sleep.”

“I’m just going to check.” the first voice said.

The pronouncement was followed by the sound of feet on stone. A shadow formed on the wall in the corridor, and Arthur and Gwaine shifted instinctively into a fighting stance. Arthur rolled his wrist around to loosen the stiffness there.

A figure poked its head around the edge of the door. It was backlit by the firelight, and it was impossible to see who it was. The figure was looking right at them, but hadn’t moved. Perhaps they were still shrouded in shadow. It would give them the upper hand in the ensuing fight.

“Arthur?” the figure asked.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“You’re alive!” the figure exclaimed and rushed forward. As it approached it became easier to make out its features. Sure enough, it was Merlin.

Merlin pulled Arthur into a hug, not caring that Arthur’s sword had come within a finger of stabbing him. Arthur dropped his sword to the ground and wrapped his arms tight around Merlin. His hands fisted in the back of Merlin’s worn out jacket and the last of the tension bled from his shoulders.

“What took you so long to get here? Had me terrified you were bleeding out somewhere.” Merlin’s voice was muffled against Arthur’s chainmail.

“I am shaken by the faith you have in me.” Arthur said dryly and stepped back, “There was some trouble at the border.”

“We had trouble too.” Merlin said, “I didn’t know Tintagel even had its own knights.”

“Whose we?” Arthur asked.

“Come on. You should see for yourself.” Merlin’s eyes landed on Gwaine and he blinked in surprise, “I didn’t think you’d stick with him the whole way.”

“Turns out that he gets under your skin when you’re not looking.” Gwaine joked.

Merlin huffed a laugh and stepped forward. He extended his arm. Gwaine grinned in return and gripped Merlin’s forearm.

“Thank you for getting him here safe.” Merlin said.

He let go of Gwaine’s arm and gave Arthur a shove towards the occupied chambers. Arthur grumbled insults at him, Merlin grumbled insult back and continued prodding until Arthur gave in and walked towards the room under his own power.

Sleeping rolls were laid out wherever there was room. The bed was covered in a sheet similar to the article of furniture in the entryway. The fire in the grate was burning away easily, and provided enough illumination to see by. In front of the fire was a group of four. Two men, two women.

“Arthur!” one of the women gasped and surged to her feet.

Like Merlin, she wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life. Unlike with his hug from Merlin. Arthur seemed at a loss. He patted the woman awkwardly on the back and looked down at the crown of her head like he expected to see something growing out of it that would offer an explanation. When it became clear she wasn’t going to let go, Arthur abruptly relaxed and hugged her back just as tightly.

“I know things are bad if you’re admitting to caring about me.” he joked softly.

“Nonsense.” the woman said with an attempt at a sneer. It was undercut. Her eyes sparkled with tears. “I’m just relieved that Uther didn’t win, is all.”

“Of course.” Arthur said with a teasing grin, “I was worried about you too, Morgana.”

The name explained it. Morgana had been Uther’s ward. When Gwaine was in Camelot, there was more than one drinking song about her beauty. Although the second verse tended to be about how easily she could gut a man who looked at her askance. The sharpness of her gaze on him made him understand the reason for the second verse.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Gwaine, my lady.” Gwaine answered.

“He’s the one Leon told us to hire.” another woman said and got to her feet.

Gwaine recognized her and offered her his best flirtatious grin even though she’d already turned him down, “Nice to see you again, your highness.”

She snorted and shook her head, “Still not a princess, but I will accept the compliment. Thank you.”

“Do I get to know your name now that I’ve proven myself trustworthy?”

“Guinevere, but my friends call me Gwen.”

“Good to see you Gwen.”

Gwen turned to Arthur and dipped in a brief curtsey, “I’m very glad you’re alright, my lord.”

“I’m not a prince anymore, Gwen.” Arthur reminded her, “It’s alright to just call me Arthur.”

“Is it alright for me to hug you too, then?”

Arthur’s face creased with confusion, but he said, “I suppose if you want to.”

Gwen picked her way neatly through the bed rolls and tossed her arms around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur rested one hand on her back with a soft sigh. This hug was briefest of all, and both of them awkwardly avoided each other’s gaze when it finished.

“Sorry,” Arthur said to the two men who hadn’t said a word during the reunions, “I don’t seem to know you.”

“This is my brother Elyan.” Gwen said and the shorter of the two men got up, “He was working in one of the villages we stayed in and decided to tag along.”

“She was only with Lady Morgana. I was worried she wouldn’t be able to protect herself.” Elyan said, “Of course, that was before I saw Lady Morgana use a sword.”

Arthur shook Elyan’s hand, “She’s as competent as any knight and at least twice as unhinged.”

“That’s Lancelot.” Merlin said, “You remember him right?”

“Right. Of course. I would never forget you.” Arthur said and stepped towards Lancelot with a grin, “I didn’t recognize you with the facial hair and the dark.”

“No harm done, Sire.” Lancelot said and shook Arthur’s hand, “You look very different to the last time I saw you too.”

“I’m dying for a haircut. Merlin can do it in the morning.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and muttered something that was probably insulting, but he was grinning. Gwaine figured that was just how the two of them expressed affection. Lots of annoying each other just because they could.

Arthur gestured to Gwaine, “This is Gwaine. Merlin and Gwen already met him when they hired him, but I asked him to stick around to watch my back. Has come in handy more than once.”

“What he means is that I saved his royal arse at least twice.” Gwaine joked.

“Please,” Merlin snorted, “Brag when you’ve lost count.”

“Speaking of your special talents, Merlin, can we have a little light?”

Merlin’s shoulders hunched uncertainly, “I wasn’t sure if the others…”

“Just do it. I’m tired of being in the dark.”

Merlin sighed heavily and tilted his head in a way that made him look like he was considering helping Aredian. Then he relaxed, brought his hand up, palm facing outwards the ceiling and whispered, “Lehot.”

Light burst from his empty palm It was brighter than any torch, nearly as bright as if they were standing in the room in late afternoon.

“You have magic.” Gwaine said, suddenly putting all the pieces together, “It was you, that night, wasn’t it? When you and Gwen hired me, I realized that everything I heard went fuzzy until after we parted.”

“I was worried someone would turn us in to Uther or Aredian.” Merlin said sheepishly, “I also enchanted the letters.”

“You did?” Gwen, Morgana, and Arthur asked at once.

“I was worried that if Gwaine handed them over, they would go after my mother to get to Arthur. I enchanted them so no one but the recipient could read them.”

“I wouldn’t normally say this, but that was exceedingly clever.” Arthur said.

“I told you, I only pretend to be an idiot.”

Arthur made a disbelieving face, “I’ve seen you trip over air.”

“I’ve seen you miss a deer when it was standing still.” Merlin retorted, “What’s your point?”

“Okay. Enough.” Morgana interrupted, “Gwaine, I can’t thank you enough for bringing Arthur safely to us. We’ve been worried sick since he escaped.”

“Wouldn’t have stuck with it if he hadn’t turned out to be pretty alright.”

There were a few more exchanges of pleasantry, and then Gwaine and Arthur were finally allowed to shed their packs. They spread out their bedrolls along with the others, and Gwaine didn’t care that it meant he and Arthur would likely have to sleep apart for the first time since the cave. He was just relieved to be among friends. There would be plenty of time to ravish Arthur later. He did allow himself a private smile when Arthur set up his own bedroll as close as he could to Gwaine’s.

They were offered stew. It would have been a tasty stew on its own, but after weeks of surviving on nothing filling, it was the best stew Gwaine had ever eaten.

“Not that I’m not happy to see everyone,” Arthur said after he’d eaten his fill, “but I was expecting it just to be Merlin.”

“Things got worse after Uther hired Aredian.” Morgana answered the unspoken question, “Aredian was tracking down anyone who could have had any involvement in your escape. He questioned the knights, all three of us, a laundress who was sweet on you.”

“Gaius.” Merlin said darkly.

“That was the worst.” Gwen said solemnly, “He was bed ridden for a week after. Then Uther banished him from the castle.”

“Where is he now?” Arthur demanded.

“With my mother in Ealdor.” Merlin said reassuringly, “He said he was too old to make it all the way to Tintagel and decided to stay with her. Ealdor now has the best medicine in all of Essetir.”

“I tried my best to stop him.” Morgana said, “But he’s mad. He won’t listen to a word of reason. He threw me in the dungeons.”

“Twice.” Gwen tacked on, “He threw her in the dungeons twice.”

“I’m sorry.” Arthur said solemnly, “I wasn’t thinking of what might happen to you when I left. I was scared and I fled like a coward. I should have stayed put.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Morgana said sharply, “Not a single one of us would trade your life for our safety. It’s more clear than ever now that Uther would have killed you, and I would much rather be sitting here with you than sitting in Camelot.”

“I’m always going to be by your side.” Merlin said solemnly.

Gwen twisted her hands anxiously in her apron, “He left me mostly alone, but even if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t regret it. You worked to save me from your father that time mine magically healed.” here her attention landed on Merlin, “That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Merlin answered, “I couldn’t just watch him die.”

“Then we both owe you more than you know, Merlin.” Elyan said, “And if that means fighting by you to keep a man who saved my sister, safe, then I am more than happy to be a friend to both of you.”

“You had my loyalty even before I was made a knight. And though I am not a Knight of Camelot, I am a knight of yours.” Lancelot swore.

All attention shifted to Gwaine. He tossed his hair back, falling back on his usual charm to buy him a moment. He didn’t realize that he was meant to pledge an oath to Arthur. He’d never pledged an oath to anyone. Commitment had never been his strong suit.

“I already told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” Gwaine said, “I want to see this through.”

“See it through?” Gwen asked.

Arthur sighed and he squared his shoulders, “We ran into Aredian at a village not far from the border. As far as I know, he didn’t see us, but if he was that close to Tintagel, then I’m willing to bet he knows I’m here.”

“We won’t let him take you.” Merlin said, “He’ll have to go through all of us to get to you.”

“In that case, we’ll need to set defenses. I don’t think he’ll be content with coming in just himself. My bet is that he’s hiring mercenaries as of now, or bringing the Tintagel knights on his side by using his employment with my father.”

“We’ve faced worse.”

“Have we?”

Merlin was silent for a beat, then said, “I’ve faced worse.”

“In that case, I say we all get some rest. Arthur and I have been walking since first light. Not sure about you, but my mind works best on sleep.”

There were general murmurs of agreement, and everyone moved to get ready. Stew was taken off the flames and set aside so it wouldn’t boil over in the night. Bowls were stacked up near the fireplace to be cleaned in the morning. With a wave of his hand, Merlin dismissed the light he’d conjured, leaving the room lit only by the fire. Gwen and Lady Morgana moved their bedrolls off to the wall opposite the door, and Elyan and Lancelot moved their bedrolls closer. It left Merlin, Arthur, and Gwaine with their bedrolls in the middle of the room. Arthur gave Merlin a hard time until Morgana complained about them acting like children, then he settled in. HIs back was to Gwaine.

Despite the tiredness dogging at Gwaine’s mind, he couldn’t rest. He didn’t feel like he fit here. Here Arthur wasn’t just his, he was everyone’s. Gwaine didn’t complete a piece of the puzzle. He was just a sell sword with a talent for tracking. He wasn't a sorcerer, a sister, or someone who’d earned his place with the group by fighting alongside them.

Arthur rolled over and smiled when he saw Gwaine was still awake, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Was thinking about how I fit in here.” Gwaine admitted. He was too tired to lie.

“None of us fit here.” Arthur said, “Morgana and I belong back in Camelot. Merlin belongs to the great destiny he’s always yammering about, and Gwen belongs where her skills are appreciated. I haven’t the faintest where Lancelot and Elyan belong, but it probably isn’t a rundown castle on an estate near the sea.”

“Is that meant to make me feel better?”

“If none of us belong here, then you’re in good company. And you belong with me, in whatever way you want that to mean.”

With that, Arthur leaned across the gap between their bedrolls and pulled Gwaine in for a kiss. It was confident in a way that none of the other kisses they’d shared had been. It was as though now that Arthur was amongst friends, he was sure of his role once more.

And he was sure of Gwaine’s place in it.

Chapter Text

The next day began at first light. Gwaine wasn’t surprised. With the threat of Aredian looming on the horizon, it was expected that they get an early start to setting up their traps and defenses. What was a surprise, was the way Arthur reacted to the morning.

In the weeks they had been traveling together, Arthur had often been the first one up. When they inevitably fell asleep at the same time despite their best intentions to keep watch, Arthur as usually the one who was up and redressed in his chainmail while Gwaine was still stumbling around. One night in the presence of Merlin, and Arthur reverted back to what must be the sleeping patterns he kept in Camelot. The sun rose and the rest of the party stumbled about their morning, stepping carefully over his prone form. Arthur buried his face underneath a blanket and did his best to ignore the rest of the world around him. It took Merlin repeatedly prodding Arthur with his toe and threatening to let Morgana wake him before Arthur finally emerged into the waking world.

He sent Merlin a mutinous glare as he did so.

Merlin’s response was to smile brightly, shove a bowl of oatmeal in Arthur’s hands, and then dart off to take care of his other mysterious duties.

Gwaine watched it with unconcealed amusement. The begrudging fondness between the two of them made for great entertainment.

When Arthur caught him smiling, he narrowed his eyes at Gwaine and said, “What’s so funny?”

“Just never seen the spoiled princess before.” Gwaine teased.

“Keep that up, I dare you.”

“My deepest apologies, my lord.”

“It’s almost impressive how both you and Merlin manage to make that sound like an insult.” Morgana said from the doorway, “Arthur, if you could finish eating so we’re not all waiting on you.”

“I’ll be along in a moment.” Arthur grumbled.

Morgana fixed him with a look, and Arthur shoved a massive spoonful of porridge into his mouth to prove his point. Morgana swept as regally from the room as she had swept into it.

“I should head down.” Gwaine said, “Add one more person to the planning.” He shoved himself to his feet, dusted off his trousers and made for the doorway.

Before he could leave through it, Arthur called out, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Gwaine paused, frowning, and then turned back to Arthur, “Don’t think so. Why?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, set aside his half eaten bowl of porridge, and got to his feet. He approached Gwaine with a long suffering expression, threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of Gwaine’s head, and tugged him close, murmuring, “I was trying to flirt”. Then he pulled Gwaine into a kiss.

They hadn’t kissed sine fleeing the tavern. Gwaine hadn’t even been sure that Arthur was still going to be interested in that sort of thing now that he was back with friends, but apparently he’d meant what he said the night before. Gwaine belonged with him, in whatever way Gwaine wanted that to mean. And Gwaine rather liked belonging in the way he was now.

He leaned in, resting one hand at Arthur’s waist. For a while, the outside world faded from their thoughts. There was no Aredian to bust down their door, no collection of misfits waiting for them to join the planning of defenses. It was just the two of them, there, in the safety of their little bubble in the old, dusty bedroom in a castle.

Gwaine pulled back for air and nosed along Arthur’s jaw, “Your flirting needs work.”

“I’ll leave flirting to you.” Arthur said, “I’ll continue to be charming in my own way.”

“That’s how I like it anyway.”

Gwaine gave Arthur’s hip a squeeze and then stepped back. Arthur pouted. It was a small pout that anyone who didn’t know his face well would have totally missed, but Gwaine had spent more time looking at that face than he cared to admit. He couldn’t help and amused chuckle, and he ducked back to give Arthur another kiss. It made Arthur huffs and roll his eyes, pretending it was an inconvenience. Then he shooed at Gwaine to make him leave. Gwaine left the room with a spring in his step.

It took some poking around before he found the kitchens. On the same level as the bedroom, were four other chambers in equally good repair. He couldn’t figure out why everyone chose to clump together in one if that were the case. Surely it would have been more comfortable to spread out. Maybe they lacked firewood. The old place was certainly drafty. There were likely big gaps in the mortar. That tended to happen when things weren’t maintained, especially this close to the sea. The salt air just seemed to wear through things quicker. He finally discovered the stairs down into the kitchen hidden behind an old tapestry. Given that the castle had probably hadn’t been inhabited since before Arthur was born, it was in good shape. There were no loose threads, and other than some fading from sunlight, it was intact. The stairs were in similar shape to the main stairs; worn smooth in some places but not yet shiny from age.

When he entered the kitchen, Lady Morgana was perched on the edge of a wooden chair and was working through her own bowl of porridge. Merlin was wrangling a bucket of water as he tried to fill the basin, Lancelot and Elyan were helping Gwen sweep, or attempt to sweep, the kitchen floor free of dust. The layers of dust were so thick that the brooms weren’t doing much.

Morgana noticed him first and asked, “Is Arthur coming down?”

“When I left he had maybe half a bowl of porridge.” Gwaine answered, “Should be down soon.”

“If you want more, there’s plenty.” Gwen said, “It was the only thing we found in the larder that was still in good shape.”

Gwaine shrugged and helped himself to a second bowl of porridge. As he stood in the corner, not quite daring to join Morgana at the table in case she took offense and turned him to stone with a look, he watched as Merlin upended the bucket into the basin and scrubbed the back of his hand over his forehead.

“Merlin,” Gwaine asked, “why aren’t you using your magic to do that?”

Merlin paused, seeming to consider, and his back hunched a bit as he said, “I forget I’m allowed to.”

“Please, don’t stop on our account.” Morgana said, “Other than Morgause you’re the first other sorcerer I’ve ever met. Though, I can’t say I’m pleased you tried to foist me off on the druids when you could have just helped me yourself.”

Merlin’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t say a word in his own defense.

Realizing he’d stepped in something, Gwaine changed the subject, “Any plans on how to defend this place?”

Lancelot stopped sweeping and turned to face Gwaine, “We thought barricading ourselves in might be useful, but if Aredian is determined, then we might be facing a siege.”

“Which we are in no way prepared for.” Gwen added, “We only brought enough food for a few days, and the larder doesn’t have much. It would be worse if Uther decided to get involved.”

“But how would he get here?” Gwaine asked, “He’d have to cross multiple kingdoms whose alliance with him is tentative.”

“He’d have to hire a ship. But the lands of Gedref border the sea.” Morgana explained, “He could sail down the coast, land in Tintagel, and then march right to our doorstep.”

“Then we need to make sure that my father never considers coming to get us.” Arthur said, coming into the kitchen.

“What do you propose, then?” Morgana asked.

“We send him a message.”

“You want to scare Aredian enough that even he tells your father it’s not worth hounding you.” Merlin said, leaning against the basin.

“Precisely.” Arthur agreed, “Aredian himself isn’t so scary. It’s the power he wields. If we can take that power from him, he’ll run back to my father and do our work for us.”

Gwaine swallowed the last bite of his porridge and set the bowl aside, “This is a bad idea.”

Arthur raised his eyebrow.

“I didn’t say I was going anywhere.” Gwaine said with a grin, “I like bad ideas. Just wanted to be sure everyone was aware of how bad it was.”

“From the sound of things, it’s your only choice.” Elyan said mildly, “Unless we all want to spend the rest of our lives searching for a place that Uther can’t reach.”

“We could do something like we did in Ealdor.” Gwen suggested, “When we set up all the traps so that we had a better chance of striking back against our attackers.”

“When were you in a battle?” Elyan asked indignantly.

Gwen ignored him. As was typical of sisters.

“Gwen’s right.” Arthur said and something about that acknowledgement made Gwaine smile. He doubted that any other prince would have given a serving girl credit for her ideas, “We should take the morning, search the castle for weak points, and place traps.”

“Sire, we don’t know how many attackers there will be.” Lancelot pointed out.

“I could set up magical alarms that would sound when someone stumbled into our traps.” Merlin offered.

Arthur nodded, “Merlin, you look into spells or whatever it is you do, and the rest of us will go check for the weak points.”

It wasn’t a command, but everyone instinctively treated it as such. This was where Arthur thrived. He was a leader by nature. He wasn’t prideful. He didn’t need to take credit for others’ ideas to make himself seem in charge, but nor was he weak willed or uncertain. Ideas came to him, he parsed them and put them into motion without needing to be sure that the people he was leading liked him. It was an art form to find the balance between being receptive and confident. Arthur seemed to walk that line with ease. Much of it had to be born of years of practice on the field and leading the knights under his father’s banner, but Gwaine was sure much of it had to be Arthur too. After all, he couldn’t see Uther listening to ideas from servants no matter how much merit there was.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and separated into groups. Merlin went upstairs to look through his spells, Morgana and Gwen paired off to explore one wing of the castle, Elyan and Lancelot split off to observe the other, and that left Arthur and Gwaine alone to do their own investigation.

Arthur nodded his head invitingly, and Gwaine joined him. The two of them exited into the section of courtyard outside the door to the kitchen. There was an old water pump, presumably where Merlin had gotten the water from that morning. Old wash tubs were lined up neatly against one wall, but were in various states of disrepair. At least twenty years of exposure to the weather and sea air meant that they didn’t stand a chance.

They poked around the exterior wall. The mortar had worn thin in many places, and in some places, bricks were missing entirely. But unless Aredian had brought a battering ram with him, Gwaine didn’t think it was likely to matter whether the wall was weak. It was still sturdy enough that no man could break it down with body weight alone. They also came across an old stable with lots of moldy hay. Thankfully the horses must have been sold off or relocated when Arthur’s mother passed away and was no longer in a position to maintain the property. However, some of the tack had been left behind, and big coils of rope. Arthur and Gwaine collected those and swung them over their shoulders. There were many uses for rope in traps.

Arthur was silent as they worked. Gwaine recognized the look on his face as brooding. Arthur got like that, sometimes. It had happened enough times on their journey to Tintagel. He’d get so lost in is thoughts and worries that he’d lose track of what he was doing. Gwaine left it for the time being, waiting for Arthur to come back on his own. When it started creeping up on the hour mark since the last time Arthur spoke, Gwaine broke the silence.

“You’re brooding again.” he said.

“No I’m not.” Arthur said reflexively.

“Just tell me what’s on your mind so we can move passed it.”

“Same thing that’s always on my mind.” Arthur said as he examined the path from the front gate to the front door, “I’m worried that this isn’t worth it. That my freedom will cost my friends their lives.”

Gwaine clapped Arthur on the shoulder and squeezed, “Between you, me, and Merlin we have a good shot. From the sounds of things, Elyan and Lancelot are good fighters too.”

“I can vouch for Lancelot.” Arthur agreed.

“Well there we go.” Gwaine continued, “And I’m betting Elyan has to be damn good with a sword if he’s been wandering on his own all these years. Between the five of us, and whatever traps Morgana and Gwen can think up, one little old man doesn’t stand a chance.”

Arthur stopped his intense study of the dimensions of the path and turned to Gwaine, “And my father? What if sending Aredian packing isn’t enough? I can’t expect anyone to live their life on the run from him.”

“That’s up to you.” Gwaine said, “You know him best. Will he give up after this failure?”

“I don’t know. Normally, he would have stopped the hunt by now and claimed it a waste of resources, but with the troll magic, I can’t say for sure.”

“Then you have to decide. Do you let him come after you, or do you defeat Aredian and build your own army to usurp your father? Depending on how powerful Merlin is, you might already have the man power to do it.”

“I can’t think about that now.” Arthur said, jaw clenching, “I have to focus on this.”

“Bring it up tonight. If you’re making your plans based on your support, then ask your support their opinion.”

Arthur nodded, and the subject was dropped. They spent the rest of the day examining the most defensible positions of the castle. In addition to the rope that they found, they also found an old forge with nails for horse shoes and a solid anvil that they would need help to move, but could come in handy. There were barrels of oil. They couldn’t tell what type it was, and it had long since gone bad. Gwaine nearly threw up at the smell of it, but it was flammable. That was the most important part for creating a trap to squeeze Aredian and whatever forces he brought with him.

Around early evening, everyone met back up in the kitchen and reported their findings to Arthur. Merlin had spent the day practicing and now could create the enchanted alarms with no trouble. Elyan and Lancelot had discovered an attic with a window that opened out over the courtyard. Gwen and Morgana reported mixed news. They had discovered a massive pile of rocks, perfect for chucking out the attic window. The downside was that the rocks turned out to be chunks or brick from the exterior wall. A storm had taken a chunk out of the wall, and that left one side of the house completely exposed. On the other hand, it did provide them a convenient means of escape if it came to it.

Merlin volunteered to look up illusion spells to see if he could hide the hole.

Slowly, a plan started to form. Gwen had the least chance of defending herself, so she would positioned in the attic. From there, she would drop rocks into the courtyard. Morgana would provide her protection in case Aredian and his goons made it through the other defenses. It didn’t matter if she struck anyone or not. The goal was to force the attackers into a bottle neck that would be created by using the oil to create walls of flame. Lancelot and Merlin would position themselves to draw ropes taut, hopefully tripping people up and injuring them enough that Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur had an easier time fighting anyone who broke through. It was as solid a plan as they were going to get when they didn’t know the enemy’s position or numbers.

Merlin got up to start casting the alarm spells around the perimeter, but Arthur called for him to stop.

He turned back with a concerned frown, “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted your opinion.” Arthur said, “And Gwen and Morgana’s too.”

The girls had been preparing to go upstairs, but at the sound of their names, they stopped and doubled back. Gwen’s expression was just as concerned as Merlin’s. Morgana’s was concerned, but she was clearly trying to hide it.

“I can’t guarantee that my father will stop just because we defeated Aredian.”

“We knew that already,” Merlin said gently, “we’re prepared for that.”

“I wanted to give you all a say, since defending me means siding against my father. If Aredian’s defeat is not enough to send our message, the only way to stop him would be for me to retake Camelot.”

“And usurp your father?” Morgana asked.

Arthur nodded.

“I don’t think you should.” Gwen said after a moment’s silence. Arthur turned to her with a questioning look, and she continued, “I know your father isn’t the man he used to be. But even so, killing your father would break your heart, and I think you’ve had enough of that.”

“You are destined to be the greatest king Camelot has ever known,” Merlin said solemnly, “But I don’t believe you are destined to take your throne by force. You cannot untie the lands of Albion through violence.”

Arthur nodded again and said, “Thank you old friend.”

Lastly, he turned to Morgana. She reached out and squeezed his hand, saying, “As much as I want Uther dead, I think that should be our last resort and you should not be the one to do it. You’re a good man, Arthur Pendragon.”

And just like that, his council had spoken.

Chapter Text

Ringing. Loud, persistent ringing. It echoed inside Gwaine’s head, rattled his teeth.

He jerked awake, clapping his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise. Around him, the rest of his newly acquired friends were doing the same. He could see the outline of Arthur in the dying fire, and his jaw was clenched with irritation.

“Merlin!” he hissed, “Can you do something about this?”

Gwaine followed the direction of Arthur’s gaze to Merlin. He was crouched in front of the flames and flipping desperately through the spell book, “Sorry! I’m working on it!”

“Is this the magical alarm you talked about?” Gwaine asked.

“It was meant to wake us up from a dead sleep!”

“That’s not what we have issue with.” Morgana said archly, “It’s the never ending noise.”

Merlin glared at her and snapped, “I said I was working on it!”

He hunkered back down over his book.

Lancelot and Elyan both had dragged pillows over their heads to try to block the ringing. Gwen had given up. She was sitting with her elbows on her knees, face creased in resigned misery.

Merlin flicked through the pages of his book so fast that Gwaine could barely hear the rustle of pages. He was developing a headache. He could only hope that whoever the intruder was, they were also suffering from Merlin’s overenthusiastic alarm.

Thinking of that, Gwaine stumbled to his feet and staggered over to the window. The latch had rusted shut, and no one had dared to break it open in case they couldn’t shut it again. He pressed his face into the glass and peered out into the dark. Either the intruder was well cloaked by the night, or Gwaine was at the wrong angle to see anything. AS far as he could see, there were no other souls. Maybe an unfortunate fox or rabbit had set off the alarm. He didn’t know if Merlin’s spell could differentiate between the two.

Finally the ringing stopped, and a collective sigh of relief echoed through the room.

For a moment they all sat in silence, then Arthur got to his feet and crossed the room to Merlin, “What alarm was that?”

“Front gate.” Merlin said, “Looks like the illusion for the wall held.”

Arthur clapped him bracingly on the shoulder and turned to the rest of the party, “You know the plan. Let’s move.”

Like everyone else, Gwaine had slept in his boots just in case something like this happened. They had all expected Aredian to attack at night. It only made sense that he would try to give himself the advantage of cover. It was a matter of moments for Gwaine and the rest to get to their feet and buckle on swords. Morgana and Gwen still had their hair tied back so that it didn’t impede their aim form the attic. Merlin shoved his book back into his pack.

As a group, they exited the chambers. The paused in the corridor just long enough that Morgana and Arthur could exchange a goodbye, and Elyan and Gwen did the same. None of them knew how many mercenaries Aredian would have hired to take them down. It was best to get one last word in, just in case.

The rest of them jogged down the stairs, and crept into the courtyard outside. The path from the front gate took five minutes to walk at a normal pace. Given Aredian was trying for a sneak attack, they would probably be going much slower and sticking tightly to the trees. That gave Gwaine, Merlin, Arthur, Elyan, and Lancelot plenty of time to get into position. Merlin had to break of from the larger party to lie in wait. His job would be to light the oil they’d spread. He was their only guarantee of the fire igniting instantly and not giving away their position with the clack and spark of flints. Arthur squeezed Merlin’s shoulder silently. Merlin offered him one last bright, cheeky grin, and vanished into the night.

Lancelot was the next to peel off. His job was to wait for Merlin and draw the rope taut. On the other side of the rope, Gwaine, Arthur, and Elyan would be waiting to join the fray. None of them knew Lancelot particularly well, though Arthur probably knew him best after Lancelot’s journey to Camelot. Still, it was nerve wracking to watch their friend fade from view into the decorative bushes that lined the drive. Somehow, Merlin disappearing wasn't as unnerving. Sneaking around seemed to be second nature to him. Gwaine was sure that Merlin would never be caught unless he’d let his guard down completely. Lancelot on the other hand, was noble and honorable. He probably hadn’t snuck around a day in his life. (The story of identity fraud excluded. Merlin had explained the whole thing to Gwaine two nights ago, and it sounded like Merlin had talked Lancelot into it.)

Gwaine, Elyan, and Arthur settled into position. The plan was that when Aredian and his men were forced down their tunnel of fire, their backs would be positioned against the exterior wall. In order to do that, the three of men positioned themselves around the corner of the building. When Aredian and his reinforcements dead ended against the wall, the three would jump out and keep them pinned there.

Waiting was achingly slow. Gwaine hardly dared to breathe. They wouldn’t know when the intruders reached them until the first stones hit the courtyard below. He found himself holding his breath. His muscles were poised for the fight. Next him, Arthur rolled his wrist once or twice to loosen the muscles there. Elyan was rolling his shoulders for the same reason. Any moment now, and the fight would begin.

Thud.

Gwaine strained his ears, listening to see if he could hear it again.

Crash, crash, crash.

“That would be Gwen and Morgana.” Elyan said.

“Any moment now.” Arthur agreed.

Right on cue, a brilliant wall of light flared to life. Even from several feet away, Gwaine could feel the heat of the flames against his cheeks.

Terrified cries broke the tense silence of the night. Above it all was a familiar voice. Gwaine was sure that it was Aredian. He was trying to command them to be calm and keep their composure. By the sound of things, it wasn’t working. The cries of alarm only got louder.

He risked a peek around the corner of the building. Silhouetted against the flames were five men. If you didn’t count Aredian, which Gwaine didn’t, that meant they were up against four fighters. Aredian was a factor they should consider, but his abilities lied in his skill with manipulation and power. He wasn’t a combatant. If he brought four fighters, he’d probably figured out that Gwaine was with Arthur. He hadn’t counted on their friends.

He could hear footsteps rushing through the grass, and he caught a glimpse of Merlin taking up his second position to help Lancelot draw the rope.

Gwaine ducked back around the corner and said softly, “Merlin is in position.”

“Good.” Arthur said, “I want both of you to stay behind me when we step out.”

“Arthur, Gwaine and I are fighters in our own right.” Elyan reminded him.

“It’s a poor leader who won’t take the risk he asks his men to take.”

Fondness and irritation swelled in Gwaine’s chest. That was just so Arthur. He was never going to be willing to let people give up their lives for him if he could do anything to save them. Even when that person was willing to risk it. Gwaine might not have magic, but he understood what merlin saw in Arthur. He would one day make a great king.

“Now!” Merlin shouted.

Aredian tried to call out a warning, but it was too late. They heard the thump of bodies hitting stone. There were a few groans of pain. Then shouts of alarm as Lancelot stepped out and started driving them back against the wall. Merlin was meant to be right behind him, closing off the wall of fire so that the attackers wouldn’t try to run. Gwaine prayed that their plan continued to go as smoothly as it seemed to be.

The group of four fighters shuffled by, trying to get away. Just the edge of Lancelot’s silhouette appeared at the edge of the corner, next to him was Merlin. He must have closed off the fire behind them. The fighters who weren’t going up against Lancelot were staring at merlin with wide, terrified eyes. Aredian was at the back of them all, still bellowing for them to hold their ground.

“On me!” Arthur bellowed.

Gwaine and Elyan snapped to attention. Arthur charged out towards the mercenaries, and Gwaine and Elyan charged out half a step behind him. They fell in line with Lancelot.

It was clear that the men Aredian had hired were indeed hindered from the trick with the rope. Two of them were limping, trying not to put too much weight on their ankles. A third was cradling his wrist close to his chest like it pained him. The last one might have avoided going down when the rope tripped everyone else, but he was locked in a fight with Lancelot. Aredian was watching the scene unfold with bulging eyes.

“Don't just stand there!’” he ordered, “I didn’t hire you to whine like children!”

The mercenary with the injured wrist, stepped forward and took a swing at Gwaine. It was laughably easy to disarm him. Gwaine met the blow with a counter attack, twisted his wrist, got his hilt under the hilt of the other sword, and yanked. The sword went flying, and on instinct Gwaine reached up and caught it. The mercenary stood, struck dumb by the display. Then turned heel and ran, heading for the shadows at the side of the castle.

“Stay and help Arthur.” Merlin said to Gwaine, “I’ve got him.”

“Try not to get yourself killed. Arthur would be annoyed.”

“Haven’t been killed yet.” Merlin said cheerfully, and then disappeared after the escaped mercenary.

Gwaine threw himself back into the fight. The man fighting Lancelot was not yet close to winning, but he was doing too well for Gwaine’s liking. He stopped up behind the man, and knocked him on the temple with the hilt of the sword. The man staggered, collapsed to one knee, and Gwaine kicked him over onto his side. It didn’t feel like a fair fight to kill him now that he was down and near unconscious from a blow to the head.

“Ideas?” he asked Lancelot.

“Just one.” Lancelot said, “Cover me.”

Gwaine took up a defensive stance, waiting for anyone to come after Lancelot. It wasn’t likely. Everyone except Aredian was engaged in a fight. Gwaine glanced over his shoulder to see what Lancelot was doing. He’d removed the man’s belt and had used it to bind his hands together.

Merlin chose that moment to come back with a prisoner of his own. He was wrapped in fine, shining chains that tightened every time he struggled.

Magic was so cool.

That mercenary went down next the one that Lancelot had bound.

“Someone get Aredian!” Elyan shouted.

Gwaine turned in time to see Aredian slinking off in the direction of the shadows. He must have decided to cut his losses and make a run for it. Before Lancelot or Gwaine could charge after him, Merlin extended a hand. His eyes flared gold, and the wall of fire arced. It curved around the side and licked up against the wall, trapping Aredian inside unless he wanted to risk being burned. Aredian stumbled away from the flames, flapping his hands to ward off the heat.

Arthur’s mercenary hit the ground and didn’t move. Arthur himself strode across the gap between himself and Aredian, sword pointed straight for Aredian’s chest.

Gwaine’s breath caught. He’d never seen Arthur that angry.

A few feet away, Elyan’s mercenary hit the ground as well.

The sword came to rest right over Aredian’s heart, but Arthur didn’t deliver the final blow. He stayed in control. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were curled back, but all he did was lean closer to Aredian.

“What do you want?” Aredian asked, “I can offer you a great many favors, Sire. There’s no reason this has to end in blood.”

“Give me one good reason it shouldn’t.”

“Because I can tell your father that you died!” Aredian babbled, “I’m his most trusted advisor now. He would never know to come look for you.”

“No.” Arthur said, “I want you to deliver another message to him.”

Footsteps on stone. Gwaine whipped around, sword drawn.

It was only Gwen and Morgana, drawn by the sudden quiet. Gwaine lowered his sword, and Merlin parted the wall of fire to let them enter.

“What message?” Aredian asked, “Tell me and I will deliver it to him.”

“Tell him that if he comes for me or anyone I care about again, I will return the favor.”

“Yes. Of course, Arthur. I will tell him that as soon as I reach Camelot.”

Arthur lowered his sword and took half a step back, “You’re going to leave now and take those two with you.” He nodded to the two mercenaries that were still alive.

“I don’t… I can’t carry them, myself.” Aredian said.

Merlin stepped up, and Gwaine suppressed a shudder. In the little time he’d known Merlin, he’d found a like soul. Someone who threw themselves into things with their whole hearts, and came out looking cheeky and just slightly mad. The Merlin that stepped up then was none of the above. His shoulders were squared, his brows were drawn together, and he loomed over Aredian. In that moment, he looked more dangerous than Arthur.

“Where's your cart?”

“Outside the front gate.” Aredian answered, shrinking back from Merlin, “A quarter of a mile east in the woods.”

Merlin turned to the mercenaries struggling against their bonds. His eyes glowed, and with a flick of his hand they vanished. Presumably arriving in the cart or near it at least.

Arthur stepped the rest of the way back and gestured for Aredian to go, “That warning applies to you too, Aredian.”

Aredian paused and looked back over his shoulder at Arthur.

“Retire.” Arthur said flatly, “Or you won’t like what comes to you the next time you help someone execute an innocent sorcerer.”

Aredian didn’t say another word. He had enough dignity not to run, but he walked as quickly as he could to the front gate. As he exited, a wall of flame appeared behind him. He let out a startled grunt and took off running.

Arthur turned to Merlin with a flat, exasperated expression, “Really, Merlin?”

Merlin shrugged, smiling cheekily once more, “I thought I should make your lesson stick.”

“Idiot.” Arthur said fondly.

Merlin went to check the rest of the group over for injuries, and Gwaine sidled up to Arthur.

“I think you just declared war.” Gwaine said.

Arthur shrugged, tossed an arm around Gwaine’s shoulders, and leaned heavily on him, “It’s his choice. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Guess we will.” Gwaine agreed, and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple.