Archive of Our Own

Work Text

“You’re an odd one, you know that?”Merlin huffs, amused as ever by Gwaine’s antics, but his attention doesn’t stray long from his charge. His concentration is far more difficult to break than his countenance, especially where a patient’s life is at stake. An unusual patient, maybe, but still one in need of his help — a declaration which had left Gwaine speechless at first, and then breathless from laughter, to Merlin’s great ire.It’s little more than a sprout, leaves small and stubby like a young child’s hands. Its petals could rival the sun itself, though, which makes it all the more shameful that he found it squashed to the cold, hard ground.…Perhaps “patient” was a bit of an overstatement. Merlin’s shoddy attempts to cover for himself — “It’s idiomatic, come off it, Gwaine!” — had done nothing but spur him on. Not that Merlin couldn’t take a bit of teasing, but humiliating himself in front of Gwaine of all people left him feeling a bit ill.Truth be told, he’d always admired the roguish knight: he was smart, strong, self-assured, and, well, handsome — everything Merlin wasn’t. He wanted Gwaine to see something in him, too. Something worth protecting, beyond just chivalry and pity… beyond friendship, even.…Anyway, it wasn’t entirely unjustified. Merlin had tried to walk away, honest, but he couldn’t just leave the poor thing to die! Certainly not once he’d felt its loss cloying the air, sick and heavy and loud. It wasn’t hard to sniff out the source after that. He feels it even now, as strong as a punch to the gut.Everything here, from the frail shoots of grass to the ancient oaks, sings with life. So near to the citadel, the land is rarely, if ever, this awake and thriving. It feels sacred, though he knows of no temple in this place, not even ruins. The little plant had been so desperate to stay a part of it…A twig snaps under Gwaine’s boot, and Merlin startles back to the present. He hopes his magic didn’t escape him while he was lost in thought, but he doesn’t hear the sound of a sword being drawn, so it’s a safe bet that Gwaine is still in the dark. The fear fades, but something shifts in his gut, heavy like a stone.Even if he was brave enough to ask, to tell, to hope, his throat would rather close around the words than speak them, and choke the meager life out of him. He’s not sure he could take it if Gwaine, of all people, was to abandon him. Just because he’s foregone the cloak today doesn’t make him any less Camelot’s knight — Arthur’s knight.He can’t think about it for long. He’ll develop a headache, and he still has a task to tend to.With a careful hand, he holds the fragile stem flush to its support — a sturdy twig Gwaine found at Merlin’s askance, despite his bemusement — and then unravels the tie from his herb pouch to bind it. He feels the relief radiating from the flower as surely as he can feel the ground beneath his knees.“No need to thank me,” he whispers back, smoothing a finger down its stem. “It’s the least I could do.”Behind him, Gwaine does a poor job smothering a snort. “I’m not sure it knows the language.”Merlin hopes Gwaine can’t see the way his face heats at that. Maybe Gwaine’s the odd one, standing there like he isn’t submerged in the buzzing of the plants and bugs just as much as Merlin is — especially here, where everything seems its liveliest self.But then again, in Merlin’s experience, people have a tendency to ignore such sensations, no matter how overbearing they can be. So, yes, Merlin is an odd one. But he’s not one to give in so easily.“You’re one to talk of oddities,” he says, the beginnings of a smirk on his face. “How often do you just stand there staring at people before they notice?”“What? I don’t do that!” Gwaine’s voice is pitched high in offense, and Merlin has to stifle a laugh.“Oh really? How come I always catch you staring at me, then? Don’t tell me I’m the only one.”“I don’t stare at you.”“Yes, you do! All the time.”Gwaine makes as if to refute the point, but his mouth snaps back shut again as he fails to come up with anything of substance, a blush coloring his cheeks.Smirk firmly in place, Merlin finishes up with the makeshift splint. “I’m just saying, I’m not going to disappear into thin air the second you look away.”The knight’s arms cross over the swell of his chest, a bandage to his wounded pride. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s my job to watch over you. King’s orders.” He states it with an arched brow, inviting challenge, but the cocky display belies nothing to Merlin.Ever since the incident in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, his friends have more than doubled down on his safety during these outings. Only, this isn’t the Valley of the Fallen Kings. The herbs Merlin needs can be found without entering the neighboring woods, and the clearing they’re in is hardly known for anything more dangerous than the occasional badger. Merlin’s in no need of his protection this time around, only his company.But this is important to Gwaine. It’s clear as day, the giddy honor that he feels at the trust Arthur’s placed in him. It’s in the downward push of his brow, eyes more serious than his words, back straight and shoulders squared. It’s in the sincere self-doubt that hides behind his playful pride. Evidently, Gwaine doesn’t take for granted what a privilege it is to have Arthur’s trust — not that Merlin can relate.There’s something there, he decides, that needs a helping hand more than a humbling word. After all, it’s no small task: to be charged with protecting anyone, whether a king like Arthur or a simple servant like himself, can be as daunting as it is rewarding. Merlin knows it better than most. If Gwaine doesn’t feel adept in his ability to protect, then of course he’s going to be on edge.Perhaps a calm, uneventful stroll outside the citadel is just what he needs to soothe his mind.“Yes, of course,” Merlin replies after some careful consideration. “And as my guard, you should be watching the forest for any sign of bandits, not me.”It’s praise, really, a kindness cushioned in his usual teasing, and it has the desired effect. Gwaine’s shoulders visibly relax, as though he’s just taken his first breath in minutes. He has nothing to prove here, not to him.“Well, whatever it is you’re doing is much more interesting,” Gwaine comes back with, crouching down beside him to observe his work up close.“‘Whatever I’m doing? I’m collecting herbs!”“You’re playing physician to a flower, Merlin.”“No, I’m ensuring that it will yield its share of… vital herbs… this season. Medicinal herbs. For Gaius.”“Right. We’ve other herbs to find, haven’t we? I’d have thought you would want to get back to the castle after a long day in this heat. Or are you just biding your time to avoid your work? Seeing what it is you do, I can’t say I blame you.”Perhaps if Merlin was still listening, he would have had some witty reply to that, but his attention is drawn away from Gwaine’s playful banter to the new song playing on the wind, growing gradually in strength like the steady hum of a beehive. A wave of bird calls comes close behind, too harmonious a sound for a flock to follow. It rises and wanes like the tide in full togetherness, merging into one solid voice before dissipating and rejoining again — a breath in, a breath out. It’s unlike anything he’s ever heard before, beckoning him like death in old age.He feels distantly as it pulls him to his feet, as though leagues away from his own body and mind. It’s only then that he realizes he’s lost his grip on the herb pouch. The edge of the Darkling Woods draws nearer, and the song fills his senses like water.“Do you hear that?” he whispers, the sound of his own voice drowned out by the song.“Hear what?” Gwaine asks, coming up to his side. “Here, you dropped this.” He offers out the fallen pouch, but Merlin doesn’t take it.He can’t take it.The forest wall drifts closer, and Merlin feels belatedly as his feet pick themselves up off the ground. “Gwaine…”Gwaine trails behind him, once again offering him the bag. “And where do you think you’re going?” he says, teasingly and blissfully unaware.“I don’t know.” His voice shakes as he’s taken forward again. “I’m not doing this.”The mirth briefly disappears from Gwaine’s eyes. “What do you mean?”One more step and he’ll breach the treeline. “I can’t stop it.”“Stop what, speaking in riddles?” He pulls Merlin back by his left shoulder — or tries to, anyway. Merlin’s feet stay planted like stone, even as he moves forward again. “Merlin, these woods are dangerous. Come back.”“I’m trying. It won’t let me.”At last, Gwaine seems to pick up on his growing panic. “What won’t let you? What’s happening?”“I don’t know!” Merlin steps with inhuman grace over a protruding root, and the sun at his back dims into a pale green light. “Gwaine, help me.”At his plea, Gwaine springs into action, wrapping his arms about Merlin and digging his heels into the ground. Despite his strength, Merlin can only drag him further into the forest, groaning as his body slips free of Gwaine’s grasp. He can already feel the bruises forming from his tight hold.“Let- ugh,” Gwaine grunts, pulling him back by the hand hard enough to dislocate it, were he a little less careful. “Let him go!”Gwaine winds his arms tight about Merlin’s waist, pulling him back against his chest, but then the ground wavers beneath his feet and he’s being pulled from the knight’s grasp once more.“Come on, Merlin, you have to fight it!”The sound is louder here, wrapping around him like a net. Against his will, his free hand brushes through a web, unspun from its perch on the tree at his side. Its maker crashes down to the dirt, left to remake the trap from scratch. The song is as crisp and clear now as the spider’s silk, and Merlin knows more than he fears that he is the butterfly caught in its web.Gwaine, for his part, doesn’t stop trying to pull Merlin back to the safety of the clearing. But whatever is controlling him, it’s far stronger than Gwaine — stronger than Percival, even, for all his brute strength. Gwaine’s chin digs into the hollow of Merlin’s shoulder and neck, a half-swallowed sob the only sound he makes. It’s the last thing Merlin knows as his conscious mind begins to slip away, left in the dust his feet kick up with each unwilling step.He strains to bring his body back, but the lure works him over like a drug, and his struggles weaken to a mere twitch — a rat in the mouth of a snake. His very senses scream for him to wake up, to fight back, or perhaps that’s just Gwaine’s desperate, fading voice in his ear.Gwaine. The thought of his friend’s frantic worry saddens him. He was always so kind to him… Merlin hopes he’s safe.The song ignores his plea, dragging him down into a bottomless pit. Untethered from himself, Merlin sinks. __________________________________________  “Merlin! Stay with me!”It’s no use. Though his eyes remain open, there’s no awareness in them, no sign that he’s even heard Gwaine’s shout in his ear. It’s eerie, the way his body moves with no mind of its own, dragging the rest of him along like a dog on a leash. His limbs move in perfect, even strides, so unlike his usual self — unlike any human, perhaps. He walks as if he’s trapped in a dream, though with the glaze over his unblinking eyes, he looks more like the dead Gwaine sees when his own eyes close.He mutters a filthy string of curses for the failure that meets each attempt to bring Merlin back. The canopy above their heads grows more dense the deeper they traverse, the trees closing in around them like a thick fog, ‘til he can hardly see a fathom before him.He grasps tight to Merlin’s stiff and lifeless wrist, more fearful of losing him than whatever end they might meet. Though Merlin’s eyes are wide and unseeing, his stolen body takes effortlessly to this path that only he knows. And, like so many times before, Gwaine follows after him with a gnawing need.“Where is it taking you?” he asks, more to himself than to the unconscious form of his friend. He gets the distinct feeling that their destination is off the edge of a cliff, or perhaps straight into some miscreant’s cage. Whatever this is, he’s not letting Merlin go through it alone.A sound soft like a growl hits his ears, and the breath in his lungs goes still. He forgoes his grip on Merlin’s arm only to draw his sword, pacing a few strides ahead of his friend in a protective stance. Whatever this creature is, for he’s sure now that no human is behind this, Gwaine isn’t going to give it a chance to get to him. He points the sharp end of his sword aimlessly into the wilderness, ready to launch his attack at the first sign of trouble.The forest goes quiet around him, just as a splash of rain hits him in the center of his forehead, trickling through the thick canopy above. He can hardly see an arm’s length in front of him, shadowed as he is by the towering trees. He squints up, expecting to find grey skies rolling in, and sees only dark. In it, two large eyes blink back at him.He inhales sharply and takes a step back, colliding with something solid behind him. Merlin, he remembers, too late. The unseeing body at his back stands solid as a statue, knocking Gwaine off his feet. He flails for something to catch himself on as he falls forward into the thick foliage, eyes forced away from the beast looming over them.It’s not any foliage that he lands in. Instead, his fingers latch onto something smooth and coarse like the hair on his chin, and the rest of his body follows. An angry warmth breathes down his neck, and the hard surface under him shifts. The hair on the nape of his neck stands on end. Another wet drop hits his head, thicker than any rain. Slowly, he cranes his neck back to find two jagged rows of ivory needlepoints, patiently poised an arm’s length above his head. Strings of saliva drip down onto him, seeping through the fabric of his tunic. He imagines its teeth can do much the same.He stumbles back from the wall of flesh and fur, back to Merlin’s side — Merlin, who stands motionless at the creature’s feet, swaying slightly as his knees begin to buckle beneath him. Without a second thought, Gwaine drops his sword to catch him before his head can hit the ground, gently lowering him the rest of the way down. Another breath blows over them, challenging in the way of a bull, and Gwaine barely has time to react before the great behemoth is upon them.He wraps his arms around Merlin and rolls them out of the beast’s path, with no time to spare. Mouth sharp and agape, it barrels through the spot where Merlin collapsed and skewers the very ground they’d only just laid upon. A sharp pain hits Gwaine, but he only strengthens his grip on Merlin, dragging him away from the open ground. The creature stumbles to a halt, disoriented at their narrow escape. It turns itself in the cramped wood with a huff fit for a boar — and the grace of one, too.Taking advantage of the distraction, Gwaine checks Merlin over, sitting him back against the trunk of an ancient tree. He’s pleased to see the muscles of Merlin’s jaw working to unclench themselves, and a pair of blue eyes tracking the movement around him — without much success, but it’s a comforting sight. He smooths his fingers over Merlin’s cheek, heart wrenching open when he leans into the touch.If the creature should prove stronger than Gwaine, if this is to be the last time he sees Merlin’s face, then he does not want to waste it. Softly, he presses a kiss into the hair atop Merlin’s head and breathes him in one last time. It has to be enough.He has to be enough. For Merlin.He takes up his sword, keeping a safe distance from his fallen friend. His heart bleeds at the sight of Merlin’s twitching hand reaching out for him, before falling weakly back to his thigh, already spent. Gwaine swallows roughly and turns his attention back to the beast that did this to him, sword at the ready.The light is dim this deep in the forest, but it’s enough to see by. What Gwaine had earlier mistaken for trees, he sees now are two pairs of legs, each one as wide as the trunk of an age-old oak. Its head and body are swathed in a swirl of rich brown fur. Where the hair thins, its skin is splotched with green, like tufts of moss grown into wet bark. He’s not surprised that he failed to see it before he ran headlong into it.With Gwaine back in its sights, the beast lowers its head to take him on again. Its bottom jaw scrapes the ground, baring its teeth ahead of a heavy lunge. He dives out of the way, careful to keep his grip on his sword, and rolls underneath, slashing at its vulnerable underbelly. It’s a quick and shallow swipe, but his aim rings true. The beast rears back as the blade pierces its thick hide, and Gwaine has only seconds to get his feet beneath him if he doesn’t want to be crushed by its gigantic… hooves?Gwaine has no desire to meet his end at the hooves of some prickly, overgrown cow.Lucky for him, it seems he’ll get his wish. The beast backs into the trees, cowed — oh, cow, hah, Gwaine laughs deliriously to himself. A cow with razor-sharp teeth and the special ability to mind-control people into walking to their deaths. Brilliant. He’s never needed a drink more than this.With the danger gone, Gwaine’s panting breaths begin to calm, and he comes to notice the toll the fight has taken on him. He’d opted for his old leather armor over the heavy mail coat — a hasty gamble on his time and comfort — and now, he’s beset with the even greater weight of his regret.Everything below the neck is either scraped or bruised, or feels like it is. The leather piece over his abdomen is in ribbons, hanging on by no more than a few spare threads. He must have slashed himself on his own sword, or perhaps the creature caught him in the gut on one of its attacks. He hopes it’s from his sword. He doesn’t fancy finding out if this thing is venomous on top of everything else. If so, he’ll be feeling it soon. He hunches in on himself, one hand pressed to his wound, the other holding him up against the nearest tree. He’s pretty sure it’s going to need stitches.The sound of a choking breath breaks him from his winding thoughts. He looks up just in time to see Merlin’s back arch off from the tree he’s leant against, clawing his way back into his own body. Pain and confusion show in his eyes, tears rolling hot down his cheeks.Gwaine stumbles back over to wipe his Merlin’s tears with a gentle, blood-streaked thumb, nothing to offer but hushed reassurances. A breathy whine forces its way up Merlin’s throat, a rough attempt at speech. Gwaine sits back on his haunches, giving him the time he needs to gain his voice back.“Wh- what was that?” he chokes out, leaning his cheek into the palm of Gwaine’s proffered hand. Gwaine frowns down at the sight of him. His body is wracked with shivers, and his teeth chatter with every wisp of a word. It’s as though he’s caught a bad chill, but the forest is humid, and the day is hotter yet. Gwaine himself is swamped with sweat, though he did just single-handedly fight off a massive, bloodthirsty cow.“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” he says in lieu of a real answer.“Did you kill it?”“I’m not sure, but I’m not going to wait around and find out. Can you stand?”“I c-can try.” His voice is small, frail like he’s barely holding onto life. He needs Gaius.Clenching his jaw against the stinging wound on his flank, Gwaine helps Merlin to his feet, abandoning all self-preservation when his charge begins to sway. “Easy, easy!” He catches Merlin, and then bites hard into his bottom lip at the sudden burning sensation across his abdomen. The taste of copper fills his mouth, but he swallows it down, along with the rest of the pain.“There you go,” he says, settling Merlin against his less injured side, but the tremor in his voice gives him away.“Gwaine, wait, did it…” Merlin pushes back from Gwaine’s chest, looking him over with wide, fearful eyes. “Are you hurt?”“Got me right below the ribs, I think.” He winds his arm tighter around Merlin’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. “It can wait. We need to get you out of here.”“Right,” Merlin allows, gesturing with the hand not clutching Gwaine. “Lead the way.”Oh, right.Gwaine has no idea where they are.“You have no idea where we are, do you?”“Um. No.”“Great.” Merlin’s voice is edged with a cynicism that Gwaine hates to see in him, but seems to weigh heavier on him by the day. “We could be leagues away from the citadel. What now?”“Good question. Any ideas?”Merlin can only shrug. “Pick a direction and walk in it?”Gwaine hums, mulling it over. “Any good ideas?”“It’s not funny! We need to get your injuries seen to.”“And getting lost in the woods is going to help?”“Look, even if we do take the wrong direction, we can’t be too far from the next town, right?”Gwaine’s glad for the return of Merlin’s hope; it’s an endearing trait, and a sight better than he was before. But for now, it only serves to remind Gwaine of his own failure. If Merlin doesn’t make it out of this, he will never forgive himself. Then again, Gwaine can’t see a path where anything gets to Merlin without getting through him first. If Merlin is to take that final journey, he won’t be going alone.To Gwaine’s trained eye, it seems a likely fate. The canopy is far too thick and the sky too grey for the sun to guide them here. Even if they do manage to find their way, they still have to contend with whatever else might be lurking in these parts. Their options are desperately few.“Better than waiting for that overgrown cow to come back, I suppose.”“Overgrown cow?”“You’d understand if you weren’t so busy getting your beauty sleep while I braved the beast,” he reasons, pulling Merlin along in the opposite direction of where it disappeared to.“Are you telling me you got beat up by a cow?” A soft laugh brushes Gwaine’s ear, and his face heats more than the embarrassment can explain.“Fearsome animals, they are. You should know that well enough, farm boy.”“Just accept that you lost a fight to a cow.”“Alright, you win! Just, don’t tell Elyan. Or Percival. Or Arthur. Or anyone, for that matter. I’ll never hear the end of it.”“Ah, we wouldn’t want to risk your precious reputation, now, would we?”“Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”Merlin begins to slip down a little, so Gwaine hefts him up higher. A mistake, as it turns out. A spike of pain travels up Gwaine’s spine, and he cries out before he can catch himself. On his arm, Merlin’s body stiffens, forcing them to a standstill.“Gwaine, stop. You need help, and I doubt that thing’s coming back any time soon. It couldn’- but it-” He clicks his mouth shut and breathes out harshly through his nose, frustration clear as glass, and just as sharp. “It couldn’t hurt to stop and make sure.”A warm, wet rivulet of blood runs down Gwaine’s hip, but he staunchly ignores it. Merlin won’t make it out of here without him. He can’t let his body slow them down.“Fine, you got me. It’s pretty bad, but it can wait.”“But Gwaine-”“If that thing catches up to us, I won’t be able to fight it off in this state. We’re better off if we keep going. Don’t know about you, but I’d like to be out of these woods before nightfall.”Merlin sags against him, and a sudden guilt flares in Gwaine’s gut. What if it’s not Gwaine’s well-being that Merlin is asking for?“Why, do you need to stop? Because we can, or- well…” Gwaine starts, unsure how to wipe the bitter taste from his mouth. “If it’s too much, I can carry you.”“No! No, I’ll be fine,” Merlin grits out from between clenched teeth. “Let’s keep going. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can patch you up.”Gwaine nods, although Merlin is in no position to see it. It had been foolish to think that Merlin’s concern was really for him. He’d done nothing but cause his friend more pain. It would be best for them both if he just learned to keep his mouth shut.They make their way through the thinning trees, quiet as the forest around them, and then quieter than that as the birds’ songs come to life again. The smaller animals can be heard scampering through the undergrowth for their meals of bugs and plants, and Gwaine is able to breathe a little deeper for it. He’s taken to the path of the first river he came across — too dirty to drink from, but at least they won’t get any more lost than they already are.Hours pass, and the sparse light filtering through the leaves begins to fade. Gwaine’s certain by now that they’ve been walking in the near opposite direction of Camelot. He can only hope that they’ll find a decent place to set up camp for the night, but with Merlin just a stone’s throw from falling into a faint, he’s not sure he has the time to be picky about it. They didn’t pack for more than a few hours on the road, and their resident physician is currently half-slumped in Gwaine’s arms. Neither of them will be receiving proper care any time soon.But there are more pressing matters on his mind — and his stomach. Their water is scarce, and Gwaine’s not sure he’ll be able to hunt with the state he’s in. Set a few traps, maybe, for a meager meal. Not enough to fill both their stomachs. Enough for Merlin, he hopes.The forest settles calmly into night. Though they’ve been headed away from the sun, the light in the distance only grows. He’s beginning to think they got turned around again when he sees it: a line of torches lighting a worn, crooked gate, and the sound of a boisterous crowd just within.Gwaine lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Look,” he says, drawing Merlin’s gaze up. He sees the beginnings of a smile on his friend’s face, and his heart soars. “It’s not Camelot, but it’s still a roof over our heads, yeah?”“Yeah… ‘s nice…”Worry pierces Gwaine’s chest like a lance. “Merlin?” He shakes him gently, but Merlin doesn’t stir back to wakefulness. Mouth pressed into a thin line, he adjusts his grip around Merlin’s shoulders, and then stoops to bring an arm under his knees. He groans as he lifts Merlin, the movement pulling at his wound. He adjusts the weight in his arms, but the feel of Merlin’s head laying limp against his shoulder serves only to worry him.“It’s alright, Merlin. I’ve got you. We’re almost there.” He’s not certain which of them he’s trying to reassure.A sluggish murmur, and then Merlin is tucking his nose into Gwaine’s neck, breath evening out in sleep. He looks almost peaceful, but there’s no denying the pain he’s in.“He’s only sleeping,” Gwaine tells himself, while no one is close enough to hear. “It’s fine. He’ll be fine. He has to be.”The gate isn’t much — a rickety old thing that’s seen one too many storms, hardly strong enough to withstand a light breeze, nevermind a beast the size of a house. But where there’s fire, there’s people. It’s a damn sight better than the woods, at any rate.Gwaine is pleased to see that the place looks just like any other of the hundreds of towns he’s stayed in. He follows the sound of drunken cheer to the nearest tavern, The Sitting Duck if the sign points him right, and hopes they have a room open. He wouldn’t mind the stables, even, as long as it meant a roof over their heads and some soft hay for Merlin’s.He shoves the door open with the shoulder on his injured side, away from Merlin’s head. A sea of curious faces turn to take in the newcomers, but most ignore the interruption, and the crowd is swept back up in drunken camaraderie. Gwaine makes for the back of the room, where a bartender — innkeeper, too, he hopes — stands, examining an old bottle of wine.He doesn’t look up at Gwaine’s approach, despite the earlier ruckus. Well, that doesn’t bother him any. Gwaine knows how to make himself heard.He opens his mouth to ask for a room but, before he can get a word out, his prospective host slams the bottle onto the table, making him wince.“You look like you could use a strong one,” the man quips.Gwaine barely holds back a growl at the levity in his voice. “My friend, he’s hurt. He needs help. Please, if you have a room to spare for the night…”He looks over Gwaine and the unconscious form in his arms, seeming to weigh his options, before shaking his head. “The place is packed, I’m afraid.”“We’ll take the stables, anything. We just need a place to rest for the night.”Gwaine’s plea is met with a scoff. “I haven’t got any stables.”“And have you a heart?”The stranger takes another withering look Merlin’s way — Merlin, who’s gone completely slack in Gwaine’s arms, cracking open the smear of dried blood on his cheek.It’s a pitiable sight, and the man seems to think so, too.“Look, I’ve one room open. I’d be willin’ to hand it to ya for five silvers.”“I don’t have any coin.”“A right shame, that is.”“Maybe you could stand to show some! It’s not likely you’ll have anyone else come this way tonight. It won’t cost you a thing. One night, that’s all we ask. Please.”The man steals one last glance at Merlin, eyes growing pinched around the edges.“…One night. You’ll pay for anything more.”And just like that, Gwaine is able to breathe again.“Good man! You won’t regret this.”“You’d best make sure of it.” He hands Gwaine a key numbered 24. “Top floor, second door on the left. Can’t miss it.”If he wasn’t so intent on holding Merlin steady, he’d have shaken the man’s hand ‘til it came loose. As things stood, it was going to be entirely up to him to get an unconscious Merlin up a flight of stairs with the stabbing pain in his side.It’s upon reaching the stairwell that he realizes the impossibility of his task. The wound in his side has mostly crusted over, but he’s certain the first step will tear it right back open. He can’t carry Merlin up like this. Dropping him right now could be a nightmare for them both. He needs Merlin to wake up.As gently as he can, he shakes the motionless form in his arms. “Mornin’, Merls. You done getting your beauty sleep yet?”Merlin doesn’t so much as twitch.“Merlin?” he tries, cold desperation crawling up his throat. “You need to wake up. Please wake up.”He shakes him again, ignoring the irritation to his own wounds, but Merlin’s eyes lay loosely shut, head lolling limply on his neck. Gwaine’s not even sure he’s breathing.
He’s fine. He’s not dead. Just sleeping. He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine. He’s fine.

…He has to be fine.
Gwaine watches Merlin closely until he’s sure of the steady rise and fall of his chest. Reluctantly, he eyes the stairs once more, as he would an enemy in an ambush.There’s nothing for it. He grits his teeth, hikes Merlin up higher, and takes the first step.Fiery hot pain tears across his middle, forcing him to stifle a gasp into Merlin’s hair. It hurts. But it’s bearable. He breathes in Merlin’s scent one last time and takes the next step up, and then another, holding Merlin steady all the while.The rest of his walk up is much the same, though Gwaine’s tunic and the band of his breeches have grown increasingly wet. He’ll be able to deal with the damage himself once he gets to their room. He pulls himself up the final step, falling back against the wall to catch his breath.“We’re almost there,” he whispers, even knowing that Merlin can’t hear it. “Almost there.”Gwaine rolls the key between his thumb and palm, over the marks in his skin where he clenched it too hard on the way up. Room 24. The door is in sight, and just within, a couple of beds to rest for the night. Nothing special, he’s sure, but it’ll be a mite cozier than the wall at his back.With a groan, he pushes himself off again and drags himself down the hall, his gait a near limp. He manages to shove the key into the lock on only the second try.The door swings open with a jarring creak, as rickety as the rest of this town. As his eyes adjust to the dark, he takes in the layout of the room. It’s sparsely furnished, ornamented only by a small side table and a chair. It’s clearly not fit for more than one guest. He takes a cautious step inside, and stops short.There’s only one bed. And not a very big one, at that.He scoffs. What else did he expect?Well, he’ll just have to take the floor. He’s slept in far worse quarters, and it’s an upgrade from the ground outside, at any rate. Shouldn’t have got his hopes up, anyway.He deposits Merlin onto the bed, and then takes up the flint and steel by the hearth. They’ve got a fire for the night, and Gwaine couldn’t be more grateful to see it. Merlin had been colder than death in his arms — cold like he was from the Dorocha. He never did really warm up again after that, his skin always a mite too cool to the touch, arms prickling even under the summer sun. It worries Gwaine — enough that, on more than one occasion, he’s had to tamp down the urge to offer out his own bedroll, to share in his body’s heat. Merlin would have only looked at him like it was the start of some joke. Gwaine would’ve made a joke of himself, really. It’s all too easy, sometimes, to keep his mouth shut where it counts — contrary to popular belief.With the hearth now lit, and a few candles to boot, he moves on to check what supplies they have at their disposal, if any.If any is about right. The room doesn’t have much — only the barest of necessities — but Gwaine can make do with that. He pours the water into the pot over the fire, pulls the lone chair up to the bed, and gets to work, leaning in to place two fingers to the pulse in Merlin’s throat. Weak, but still there. Perhaps even steadier than Gwaine’s.It’s unmistakable, this familiar, protective surge. Merlin seems almost delicate now, his face soft and vulnerable in his unconscious state. It would seem a welcome break from the stress that usually lines his face, if Gwaine could just convince himself that he’s only sleeping.He watches Merlin’s chest rise and fall one more time, and then gets on to untying the ratty neckerchief from around his neck. He tries not to stare too long at the sweat in the hollow of Merlin’s throat, glistening gold in the firelight. He takes the pot off the fire and wets Merlin’s scarf in it, mopping up the blood and grime from his face. For now, Merlin is peacefully unaware, but Gwaine knows he’ll be wanting a full wash and a clean set of clothes come morning… and possibly a hug. He reckons he’d need one, in Merlin’s place.It’s as he’s wiping down his throat that Gwaine sees it: a spotting of red through his tunic, a continuous line drawn straight down his ribs. He starts from his half-dazed state, nearly toppling the chair behind him in his haste to stand. How could he have missed this? Was he really so preoccupied with himself that he’d managed to completely overlook his best friend’s pain?Distantly, he recognizes the folly of this thought, but he can hardly explain the sinking feeling in his stomach elsewise. With shaking hands, he strips Merlin of his jacket, belt, and shirts, hoping against hope that it’s not as bad as it looks.The first thing to greet Gwaine’s eyes is the blood. Smeared across his chest, clumping over cuts and scrapes, sticky and wet and wrong. But there is something more— dirt, bruises, he can’t be entirely sure in the dim light. He holds the candle up close to Merlin’s skin, and takes a shuddering step back.It’s worse than he thought.Not all the marks on Merlin’s body are from today. They range in age as they do in size, and Gwaine can’t imagine what could have happened to cause them. An idea strikes him, and his jaw clenches hard enough to crack.Arthur is going to pay for this. He’d thought him a better man, but… Gwaine supposes he should have known. The way Merlin always seems so tired, so overworked. Hell, he’s seen Arthur throw objects and smack Merlin on the back of his head before, but he’d taken it as some sort of horseplay between friends. Come to think of it, though, he’s never seen Merlin do any of it back.Gwaine sits back onto the chair — falls into it, really — and thinks, back to the very day they met. He wonders if any of the hurts Merlin’s taken are from the trouble Gwaine got him into. He looks to the weeping gash on Merlin’s ribs. The creature never got close enough to touch him.Were Gwaine a praying man, he’d pray that it did not come to be there by his own hand. But the line is neat, almost surgically straight. It’s a near match for the one stinging his own skin.There’ll be time enough later for pride. He takes Merlin’s hand in his own and prays.He prays, to no one in particular, that it’s not the mark of a sword. He prays that it’s not of the beast’s making, either. He touches the split in Merlin’s flesh and prays it’s not there at all, even as he washes the wound, tearing strips from the collar of his own tunic to bandage it.Satisfied that Merlin is all taken care of, he lays his friend’s head onto the pillow and tucks the blanket over him. Merlin mumbles some nonsense words, and Gwaine can’t help but smile. Merlin is on the road to recovery. Gwaine’s helped ensure that. He’ll be fine.Gwaine might not be, though. His body reminds him of this with a sharp pain in his side as he makes to clear the side table. He’d all but forgotten his own wound in his urgency to help Merlin… not that he regrets it, but it’s still a pain in the ass.Gingerly, he removes the last scraps of leather and slips the tunic down past his waist, unhindered by the fit of the collar — or what’s left of it, anyway. Merlin needed the bandages more. Gwaine can always get a new one.He collapses back into the chair. He can’t get a good look at the cut, but he knows enough to say it needs stitches he can’t give. And, of course, more bandages he doesn’t have.He decides to tear from the bottom portion of his tunic this time. They still have to make the journey home from here, and he doesn’t plan to walk it naked from the waist up. He can apologize to the masses later if he must.Once he’s sufficiently patched up, given their measly means, he relaxes into the chair and takes Merlin’s hand into his own, rubbing the warmth back into it. The back of his hand is soft, a tangible contrast to the calluses that line his fingers, formed from years of hard, thankless labor. It’s a comforting reminder of Merlin’s strength, even at his most vulnerable. He’ll get through this. Gwaine knows it.He won’t fail him again. __________________________________________  The first thing Merlin feels is, in short, heavy. He’s stuck under something, warm and thick and familiar. It smells like dried sweat. He’s half-convinced that he’s grown a coat of fur like some wild beast, like he’s wearing someone else’s skin. It’s a disturbing thought.It’s a comfort, though, oddly enough. The presence molds itself around him, warm and soft as his mother’s hearth back home. Setting his reservations aside, he curls into it, clenching his fingers into the thick folds as though it’ll stretch the moment any longer. For a time, he’s no more — and no less — than another living thing, his only concern in life to keep warm and fed.It’s not half bad, whatever it is.A few minutes pass before he remembers the invention of blankets. It’s a relief, to say the least. Only, it’s not his blanket he’s under.He’s not as worried as he should be. His own blanket is scratchy, thin, and worn. This one is a luxury by comparison. He snuggles deeper into it, rolling onto his side to hide his face in the accompanying pillow. It’s a cool, comforting dark, and he intends to bask in it for as long as he can get away with.And he does, until the screech of unoiled hinges makes his eyes spring wide open — and immediately clench back shut again. It’s bright. Painfully bright. Was he actually at the tavern for once?Reluctantly, Merlin opens his eyes.Gwaine stands in the doorway with a steaming tray of breakfast. His face breaks into a wide grin when his eyes finally land on Merlin, who is laying in his bed. Naked.Merlin is laying naked in Gwaine’s bed.“Merlin, you’re awake!”“Gwaine!” He sits up quickly, bashing his head into the wall, as if it wasn’t spinning enough already. The blanket, he pulls up to cover his scars, only for a sharp pain to make itself known across his ribs.Gwaine winces in sympathy, setting the tray down neatly on the bedside table. “Are you alright?”“No!” he yelps, but it’s about all the exertion his body can take. “Agh, my head…” Just how much did he have to drink? Is this what Gwaine has to put up with every morning? He groans, dropping back down onto the mattress. “What on earth happened last night?”“Not what you’re thinking, you dirty bird,” Gwaine says with an even filthier smile.On second thought, he is only half-naked. He should know better than to jump to conclusions, especially where Gwaine is involved. He flushes a deep scarlet, wracking his mind for any excuse — or prayer — that will let this conversation be forgotten.“I wasn’t- I wouldn’t- I-”“Merlin. I’m joking.”“Oh. Um… sorry.”Gwaine laughs good-naturedly at him. It helps loosen the knot in Merlin’s chest, but it doesn’t do much for his confusion.“How much do you remember?” Gwaine asks, sensing Merlin’s upset. He steals a bite of a sausage, making himself at home on the edge of the bed by Merlin’s feet.“I remember being rudely awoken from the best sleep of my life,” Merlin grouses back. Those sausages smell grand, and he’d appreciate it greatly if Gwaine would actually save some for him.“Before that.” He inches the tray closer to Merlin, gesturing for him to eat.Oh. What was he so worried about? Of course Gwaine wouldn’t let him go hungry. Still, he chooses to steal the rest of the sausage Gwaine already claimed for himself, making the knight sputter. With a satisfied grin, he settles back against the wall, wracking his memory for any hints of the night before.“We were… collecting herbs? Erm, we were talking about that flower. And then-” And then what? His forehead wrinkles in concentration, and he begins to sit himself up, albeit slower this time. “It was loud. So loud. It felt like I’d been swept out to sea.”He looks to Gwaine, then, something in him pleading. “I couldn’t get back to you.”The dread is echoed from friend to friend. Gwaine’s not sure either of them will truly be able to shake it off until they’re either back in Camelot, or the beast is slain.He drops heavily into the chair, running his fingers through his unkempt hair, before settling his hand over Merlin’s. “It’s alright. It’s over now.”But Merlin’s eyes won’t meet his. “I’m sorry.”“What for?”“I couldn’t fight it. I tried…”Before he can finish his thought, Gwaine’s hand is reaching out to cup Merlin’s jaw. He only returns to his senses in time to pause the motion and lay it on his shoulder instead.“It’s not your fault,” he whispers, gentle as can be. “Whatever it was, I’ve no doubt it was a creature of magic. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”Merlin shifts a bit, slinking down further into the bed. He doesn’t refuse the comfort, nor does he accept it.“Are you alright?” he deflects, and Gwaine lets him. “It got to you, didn’t it?”“Ah, I did it to myself, actually. Rolled onto my own sword if you’ll believe it. I got lucky, though. Barely broke the skin,” he lies. “The bruising is the worst of it.”It was worth it, though, he thinks, to get you out of the creature’s path.Merlin’s relief is palpable. “Well, let me see to it.”“Don’t worry, I took care of it while you were out.”Merlin needs to be resting, not worrying himself sick over him. There’s nothing he can do, anyway. They don’t have any supplies, aside from his herb pouch.“You’re no physician, Gwaine. Come on, I promise I won’t give you anything that tastes too bad.”“I’m fine, I’m feeling better already. But you need to let yourself heal. You were out for a while there, you know. I was worried you weren’t going to wake up.”Merlin squints. “As long as you’re sure…”“I am. Now eat up. The food here doesn’t come cheap.” Another lie. He stole it fresh off the countertop.“Right. And where exactly is here?” Merlin asks, taking up the bowl of gruel.“Little place called The Sitting Duck, I think. Bit south of Camelot.”“And, I take it, a bit south of the woods?”“Don’t worry, Merlin. We’ll find ourselves some horses and take the long way ‘round, maybe have some fun with our surprise time off.”Merlin softens into a smile at that, and Gwaine finally starts to relax, too.“I always knew your ability to sniff out the nearest tavern would come in handy one day,” he quips, pulling a deep laugh out of Gwaine.Everything is going to be fine, he tells himself. And when we’re back in Camelot, the rest of the knights can take care of that wretched beast for good.______________________________________ “Come now, open up,” Merlin prods, lining up his fist — or rather, the treat therein — with Gwaine’s mouth.How can Gwaine say no to that smile? He does as Merlin bids, eager for some fun after the night they had……Only for Merlin to draw back. “Come on, Gwaine, wider.”The snort that escapes him is not an attractive one. “Please, it’s not that big.”“Wh- It’s big enough! It’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”“Eh, I’ve had bigger.”“I hope you choke on it,” he deadpans, getting back into position.The grape he throws ends up hitting Gwaine square on the nose.Gwaine only laughs. “Did you do that on purpose, or are you just that bad at aiming?”“No! Come on, you’ll catch the next one.”The next one — at no fault of Gwaine’s own — goes sailing well past his ear, right into the chest of the very last person Gwaine was hoping to see today.It’s the innkeeper’s fault, really. He should know well enough to knock. They could’ve been doing something slightly less decent in here, after all.Not that he and Merlin were- well, any patron could-Can the man just say something already?“Glad to see you’re doing better,” the man says, with no small hint of annoyance.That would be Gwaine’s cue. He strides confidently on up to the man and wraps an arm around his shoulders, as if the two of them go years back. Or, more to the point, as if Gwaine is not in any way indebted to their host.“All thanks to you! Say, how much is this room for another night? We’ve not got any horses, or we’d be out of your hair a mite sooner. Say, have you got any horses?”Unfortunately, ass-kissing doesn’t work on everyone. He shoves off Gwaine’s arm and puts a few extra inches between them.“I haven’t got any stables, and I haven’t got any horses. I only came to bring you some breakfast, but it seems you’ve already helped yourself.”Merlin looks between the two of them in unmasked confusion. “Gwaine, who is this?”That, at last, gets some positive attention from the man. “The name’s Cassian. I’m the one who keeps this place running.”“Well, thank you. For sparing us the room, that is. If there’s anything we can do-”Merlin, stop talking! Gwaine mouths, flailing his arms behind Cassian’s back, but his addle-minded friend doesn’t seem to get the message.“-just say the word and we’ll have it done.”“Ah! I’m afraid we have no money to give to the good man,” Gwaine interrupts, adamantly shaking his head no.“Oh… Well, there must be some way we can repay you,” Merlin says, casting those wet doe-eyes up at their soon-to-be debt collector.Gwaine sighs. He’s fairly certain that Merlin’s good heart has gotten them into a lot more trouble than his own bad streak ever could.“Well, there is one thing…” Cassian turns back to Gwaine, looking him over like a jewel in appraisal. “Why, yes, I think you’ll do just fine.”Mark his word, Gwaine is never saving Merlin from those damned chores ever again.______________________________________ Merlin sleeps most of that first day away. There’s not much else to do until the wound on his ribs decides to heal. The pain’s not too bad, at least. He’ll be walking around fine again tomorrow. Well, probably. Hopefully.…But a light trip downstairs won’t do much harm.He begins to sit up, more delicately than he tried this morning, and finds it bearable. In stark relief, he gets both his feet beneath him — and then tumbles straight to the floor, only just catching himself on the nearest bedpost.Whatever that beast did to him, it apparently also sapped even the slightest strength from his bones. He growls with every last bit of dragon in his blood. He can do this. He knows he can.He’s just not entirely sure why he’s doing it.He can think of a few reasons, of course. To keep his mind and body from laying idle, perhaps, or to get himself some food and drink. To make sure Gwaine hasn’t started a tavern brawl with no one there to supervise. But it’s the sound of a deep, teasing drawl, the gleam of a sharp smile and even sharper eyes, the thought of those strong, gentle arms and a scruffy jaw that gets him out the door.It’s just Gwaine.Well, who doesn’t like to see their friends? He’ll take anything to stall the boredom. As such, he makes it down the stairs with no further incident, and is greeted to an unusual, though not at all unexpected, sight.Gwaine is behind the counter, not in front of it, serving up a tankard of mead to a fine young lady — a lady who seems to want something decidedly off the menu. That part, Merlin is at least familiar with. And he can’t blame her, either. It wasn’t hard to figure out where Gwaine got the bandages from. As a result, his chest is more than halfway exposed by what’s left of his tunic, with only the shreds of his leather vest and belt there to preserve his dignity.Lucky for Gwaine, he’s not as thick in the head as most knights. He pulls a rag from the band of his breeches, wiping down the freshly cleaned countertop — to show off his forearms, no doubt. They’re a striking sight with the sleeves rolled up like that, especially in the candle light. As Gwaine tucks his rag back into place, he takes the woman’s invitation to look her somewhere below the eyes, for more than a few seconds. Soon enough, though, he sends her on her merry way. Merlin decides it’s as good a time as any to catch him up.“You realize you’re on the wrong side of the counter, don’t you?”Before he can even look up at the disruption, Gwaine’s face brightens, just at the sound of his voice. He supposes it must be a great relief to Gwaine to get this break from his duties, brief as it ought to be.“Thought I’d try it out for a change, see how the other side lives.”He overflows a pint and slides it across the counter. Merlin just barely stops it before it can tumble over the edge, but Gwaine carries on as if he hasn’t noticed the fumble.“It’s not all bad, this job. Get these good folks their ale, fix a failing marriage or two, pocket some silver along the way. Might quit the knighthood altogether,” he says, taking a swig from a pint of his own.“Ah. Raiding from our host, are you?” Merlin teases, sipping at his own drink. “Or just too drunk to care who fetches your ale?” It’s not a bad brew. He takes a real mouthful now.The knight-come-bartender leans in close, conspiratorial. “I’ll have you know, I’m as sober as they come.”That last mouthful sprays across the bar, into Gwaine’s face, chest, and hair, and somehow manages to fizzle out one oddly placed candle — not to mention, every last voice in the tavern.Merlin wipes his mouth with his cleanest sleeve. “Sorry.”“Go on then, be plain with me,” Gwaine says, patting off his face with the rag. “Is it something I said?”Merlin’s face heats like an oven. He’d blame the drink if it had actually made it to his stomach, but at least the tavern-goers have gone back to chatting each other’s ears off. A bad dice roll, apparently, is enough to steal their attention back. He’s not sure why, but he feels a bit insulted at coming second to a game.Gwaine, however, is still patiently awaiting an explanation as to why he now has as much ale in his hair as in his stomach.“Sorry, it’s just… I’ve never seen you sober in a tavern before. I’m not sure I’ve seen you sober at all since the day we met.”“And, good friend that you are, you thought you’d take it upon yourself to end my newfound sobriety?”“Well, I didn’t realize you’d already tended to the problem yourself. I suppose I’ll never get to see you sober now.”This man’s smile could turn night to day if he held it a little longer. He always did like Merlin’s jokes, even the bad ones — which he’s pretty sure this one is.“One day that dream may come true — the next time Arthur makes us train, that is.”“Are you not drunk for that? Why do you even go, then?”Gwaine shrugs. “Someone needs to be there to put the king in his place.”“Yes, the queen.”At that, they both break into laughter. Gwaine hunches over a little, in fact — only to spring back upright like a plucked bowstring. He sucks in a breath, letting it out slowly between his clenched teeth.Merlin’s smile freezes in place. “Are you alright?”“What? Of course.”“No. It’s the wound, isn’t it?”Even if Merlin wasn’t a physician, he couldn’t possibly miss the pained pinch of Gwaine’s brows, the way that brick-and-mortared smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.He certainly doesn’t miss the way Gwaine’s knees begin to buckle. Merlin rounds the counter, pulling Gwaine’s arm from where he just managed to catch himself, and then up over his shoulders. It’s the same carry he uses on Gwaine’s worse nights at the tavern.He glances back up to locate the stairs, only to find every eye in the place on them, again.Lucky for Merlin, he’s quite practiced at lying — better than Gaius, even.“Sorry, don’t mind us. My friend here doesn’t know how to stay out of his own supply!”Alright, not that much better than Gaius, but it gets the job done. The patrons meet him with a chorus of laughter and go back to minding their own business. Even better, a barmaid comes by to handle the next request — two whole flagons of ale from the last winner — that shifts the room back into a breathable state.Gwaine, thank the Goddess, hangs on long enough to walk himself up the stairs. How he managed to get Merlin up while he was out, he’ll never know. He must have had help — from that innkeeper, he’ll bet.Once inside their quarters, he lays Gwaine out on the bed and gets on to heating what little water they have left. He checks twice over his shoulder before enchanting it — just a small spell to help clear out any infection, and to better sterilize a needle should he need it.“…Knew it needed stitches,” Gwaine mumbles, confirming Merlin’s fears. “Woulda done ‘em myself, but… no needle.”Merlin sighs. “Gwaine, we’re in a servant’s quarters. Did you even bother to look?”“Um. It was dark?”Despite it all, Merlin laughs. “It’s alright, it couldn’t have been easy taking care of us both. Let’s just get a look here so I can get on to tending it.”Gwaine giggles at this, which Merlin takes as a sign of oncoming delirium. Beneath his leather vest, the sticky tunic shines a dark red. Taking a deep breath, Merlin cuts the torn fabric away, unbuckles Gwaine’s belt, and pulls the tunic the rest of the way off of him.“Oh, Gwaine, this is- this is bad.”Gwaine looks down at the deep gash in his side and frowns. “It hurt less when I couldn’t see it.”Merlin tilts the idiot’s chin back, resting his head on the pillow. “Just hold still, you dimwit,” he says, and sets to cleaning up the area. Gwaine was right. It’s definitely going to need stitches. And now, disinfecting, too.“I’m — augh! — ‘m not a dimwit…”Merlin tsks. “I’m afraid I’ll have to see it to believe it.”“Saved your life, didn’t I?”“Right. So then, a very brave and noble dimwit.”“Thought you’d never notice.”The wound looks worse, almost, when Merlin’s done wiping off the smears and clumps of blood. It should have never gotten this bad. Merlin is a physician for crying out loud. Gwaine is his friend.“Let’s just take a break from the heroics for a while, shall we?” he tries, voice tight.“With all the trouble you get into? Not likely.”“Ah, my knight in shining armor.”“For as long as you’ll have me.”Merlin’s not so sure that Gwaine is joking anymore. He’s not so sure that he is, either. But Gwaine is his patient first, a puzzle second. He sets the needlepoint to Gwaine’s skin, silently chastising himself for having failed to collect any herbs to soothe his pain, and unsure of any spells to that effect — none short of knocking him out, anyway.
Wait… that’s not a half-bad idea.
With a whisper of apology, Merlin pushes the needle through the infected flesh. Gwaine grimaces, biting back a moan of pain, and Merlin takes advantage of the distraction to whisper a soothing spell — not enough to put him straight to sleep, but certainly a good drowse, in his experience. Gwaine relaxes almost instantly, and Merlin’s heart aches that he should need the help at all.“I can take care of myself, you know.” He’s not sure why he bothers saying it. Maybe Gwaine will be less obstinate to the truth if he’s half asleep when he hears it.“Shouldn’t have to. Just wanna help.”Merlin’s eyes well up a little at that. He shakes his head fondly, cutting his own thoughts short before they can spiral down. “I know. But just let me return the favor, yeah?”“…Thank you, Merlin.” With that, his eyes fall the rest of the way shut.Merlin can’t help but smile softly down at him. “Get some sleep, Sir Gwaine.”With Gwaine free of the pain, Merlin feels comfortable speeding his process up a little, completing a third and fourth stitch in as many seconds. None too soon, he has it in a good enough state to be cleansed a final time and rebandaged.He sits back when he’s finished, looking over his bruised and bloodied friend. This is all my fault, he thinks. This is Lancelot all over again. Why do I never learn?He bites his lip, clutching Gwaine’s hand to his chest. He knows better, but he lets himself think, for just a moment, that he can feel a light squeeze back.He had better get some sleep himself. He makes to slip his hand from Gwaine’s, only to feel it tighten about his wrist.“Where do you think you’re going?”Damn. He'd thought Gwaine was still sleeping. He really isn’t cut out to be a physician, is he?“I was just going to set up a place for me to sleep for the night… Why, did you need something?”Gwaine tries to get up, just barely making it to his elbows, before Merlin decides to push him back down with a hand to his chest. He really ought to learn to take better care of himself. Merlin won’t always be around to do it, not if the prophecies are to be fulfilled. He’s really not sure what will become of him, then…But Gwaine ignores the unspoken command. “I can’t make you sleep on the floor,” he insists, grabbing Merlin by the wrist for the second time.“We only have the one bed, Gwaine.” He eyes the hearth. It could be a nice spot, but the ashes…“Take it. I’ll be fine without.”“What did I just say about heroics?” he chides, a bit absentmindedly. The hearth just won’t do. With his luck, he’d light himself on fire, and Gwaine would probably follow. He’d catch too easily with the sheer amount of mead in his blood.“And look who’s offering to take the floor in my stead.” He lets go of Merlin just to run his hands through his hair, letting his frustration show. “Take a page from your own book, Merls.”“It’s my duty as a physician. You’re injured.”Although, Gwaine is looking more awake now — almost amused, even. “And you were just enchanted to wander straight into the maw of a bloodthirsty beast.”“Yeah, but I’m fine now!”Gwaine snorts then, devoid of humor. “Are you? You were out for more than half the day, and you still look ready to keel over at a moment’s notice. You need it more than I do.”“You’re not looking much better yourself. That wound is infected, Sir Gwaine.”“I’ve had worse.”“All the more reason for you to take it! Plus, you slept on that chair all night long. It’s no wonder your wound is so much worse today.”“Come on, Merlin, just take the bed.”“No!”“The sooner you do, the sooner we can both get some sleep.”It’s his own mistake, really. Gwaine begins to push himself up again, and so Merlin shoves him back down — it’s something of a habit by now. But before Merlin has time to react, Gwaine snatches him by the wrist a third time — perhaps that’s habit, too — and drags him into the bed with him. Even sick and wounded, Gwaine is strong, and Merlin only just catches himself in time to avoid tearing the fresh, delicate stitches.Scowling, Merlin tries to wrest his arm out of Gwaine’s grasp, but Gwaine holds onto him effortlessly. He glares down at Gwaine, stuck in a straddle atop his hips, but his patient only smiles up at him, deliriously giddy.Well, Merlin has his own reason to smile. “Go on then. Take the floor, oh chivalrous knight.”The unsuspecting knight makes to slide out from under Merlin. Only, nothing happens. He bucks up a little, wiggling to and fro, but Merlin’s thighs hold firm to Gwaine’s hips. It seems all that running around after Arthur has done him some good after all.“Let me go,” Merlin says, “and I’ll let you go.”“Not a chance.”“Well, I’m not moving.”“Well, neither am I.”They stare each other down in a haughty challenge — until, at last, Merlin yields.“This is your fault,” he mumbles, settling down comfortably onto Gwaine’s good side.Gwaine lets go of his wrist to wrap an arm around his back. “As much as it is yours.”“You’re impossible.”It’s only a light tease, but the hand on his back still tickles him in retaliation, making him squirm on Gwaine’s hips again.Before Merlin can get back at him, though, Gwaine’s eyes spring wide open, and violently, too — hard enough to burst their sockets, like he’s just remembered something urgent, but far too late. His hands move to Merlin’s shoulders, as if to push him off, but he makes no motion to do so.“You can take the floor still, if you really want,” he offers, and Merlin’s sure he means more than he says. “I won’t stop you.”Something’s changed, he knows. But whatever Gwaine is getting at, it’s a mystery to him. He’s ashamed to even think it, but the knight’s looming sincerity is nigh overbearing at times — like a precious vase on a table’s edge. He’d rather break it by his own hand than sit in suspense of its fall.“Oh, so now that I’ve gone and got myself all cozied up, you’re willing to budge.”There, he’s done it. The moment is gone now, and Merlin tucks the mistake deep inside himself, like it’s another secret to die with. He’ll never find out what Gwaine might have said if he’d only asked, if he hadn’t been too afraid to help. For all his sway over time, he can’t turn it back the few seconds he needs.Instead, Gwaine gasps, as mockingly as he can muster. “You wound me! I am nothing if not a gentleman-”“That’s still to be determined.”The flick Merlin gets to his ear is well-earned.“You’d be saying that from the ground outside if it were true. But the bed is yours, if you’ll have it. Or the floor, if you so insist.”And, well, Merlin can’t even stay mad at himself when Gwaine is looking at him like that. He grins, tucking his chin deeper into his knight’s shoulder. He really is tired, even having slept the whole day away.“You have to admit,” he mumbles into the crook of Gwaine’s soft, stubbled neck, “this is a whole lot comfier than the floor.”“Yeah,” Gwaine agrees, voice squeaking like a hinge. “Much more comfortable.”Merlin squints. It seems time can move backwards after all. “Are you alright?” he asks, swiping the chance while he still has it.“I- well…”“What is it?”The usually brazen knight clears his throat, blushing a deep shade of red. “You know how it can get in close quarters, especially if it’s been a while since… well, you know.”“Huh?”Gwaine makes no effort to hide the rolling of his eyes. “I mean that having someone lay down on top of you can cause a bit of a situation down there. Uh, respectfully.”Reality strikes Merlin like a blow to the head. “Gods, your wound! I should have been more careful, I’m sorry.”He shifts his body further left, laying out beside Gwaine instead of on top of him. The breath leaves Gwaine in a whoosh, as though he’s been holding it in all this time.“The wound, yeah. It’s, uh, sensitive. Best to give it some space, let it calm down.”Merlin wishes he could smack his own face without raising Gwaine’s alarm. Why can’t he just do the right thing for once?“Of course,” he concedes, rubbing at his eyes. “No need to make this any harder for you than it already is.”“…Yeah, that’d be the gist of it.”“I can- I’ll just- uh,” Merlin stammers out. He knows what he wants to say, so why can’t he say it? “Just, forget it. Goodnight, Gwaine.”“Mhm, sweet dreams.”Lucky for them both, the knight is out again in minutes. His arm is lax under Merlin’s back. It’s another opening to leave him for the warmth of the hearth, or the chair that Gwaine pulled up the night prior.Merlin doesn’t leave the bed. He lays there on his side, watching Gwaine’s face as he falls deeper into sleep. He looks well and truly rested for the first time in days — months, even. The stress lines smooth out more with every breath, and already his eyes have lost that pained pinch at the corners, so that none but the smile lines remain.He’s beautiful like this. Merlin can’t take his eyes off him.He feels like a creep.He averts his gaze, tears gathering in his eyes. This is more than just innocent worry — though he has plenty of that to spare.He’d been having so much fun in Gwaine’s presence. Truthfully, he’d forgotten to rein himself in; his feelings, his touch, all uninhibited. If Gwaine were to see through him, if he knew Merlin’s thoughts… Merlin hardly knows them himself.He’s such a- well, what he wants, is- but he can’t help it, he just feels, and-Gwaine is a loyal friend. He always steps in to do what’s right, no matter the danger to himself. He’s selfless like that, and he takes no liberties for his heroic acts. He’s the charming kind, too, fun and quick-witted and bold.He’s strong and he’s beautiful and he’s so, so good.How could Merlin be so lucky as to have a man like Gwaine in his life? Yet, Merlin wants for more, and more, and more. More than Gwaine can give. More than any man.It’s not fair… to either of them.Some day, Gwaine is going to find the woman of his dreams. Someone who’s truly good for him, who can make Gwaine see himself the way that Merlin gets to see him. Oh, and she’ll be grand — smart, strong, self-assured, and dignified — as brave and dashing as the knight himself. And she’ll have Gwaine’s heart in her soft, pretty hands.She’ll be everything Merlin isn’t.
But, by the gods, if I could be enough, I would. I would.
He hopes she comes soon. Gwaine deserves so much more than he can give._______________________________________ Gwaine wakes up feeling refreshed. The sun is shining, the sky is clear, and the day is new. He rolls his shoulders, stretching out his back like a cat, and turns to lay on his side.His injured side.He braces for the pain, and is left in suspense. Slowly, he opens his eyes again, but the wound in his side gives him no trouble at all. Though he’s saddled with a solid indent down his right flank, it feels no worse than a recent scar. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad off as he thought. Must have been the fever talking. But with the infection drained, it’s no more worrisome than a scratch. Right now, he’s more taken with the rare sight of Merlin sound asleep beside him.Merlin takes in deep and even breaths through slightly parted lips, pleasantly pink and plush to the eye — and soft, too, like the fur of a fox. He felt them moving against his skin last night, and the memory makes him shiver with a greedy, hot delight.The hair on Merlin’s head grows longer now, curling about his ears like smoke from a fire, like his tongue on a laugh. It sharpens the finer edges of his face, just as well: the high rise of his cheeks above the hollows; his jaw’s narrow curve into a low, smooth chin; and that striking profile of his, a finely sculpted nose from tip to brow, like those statues of old, of gods left to rot with the remains of their devout. Were Merlin to stand among the marble, he’d make a perfect fit, as natural as a deer in the woods.It’s a bit much for Gwaine’s still-sleepy head. He puts his thoughts to rest, running his fingers through Merlin’s dark tangle of hair, dulled down now by the dirt and oils, and tugs loose each knot his ragged nails catch upon. He’s in need of a bath. They both are.Merlin’s eyes shift beneath his lids, and Gwaine manages to retract his hand just in time to avoid having to explain why he’s taken to grooming his friend like a cat.His fears are all but forgotten when Merlin finally blinks his eyes open, honing in on Gwaine’s hovering face. He brightens immediately.“Gwaine, you’re awake!”“Earlier than you, at that.”“I’m just glad it worked.”“That what worked? What exactly did you do?” He stretches out his arms and back, but he feels nothing more than a mild ache. He’s been worse off after training.“Erm… just, the herbs I used. You’re looking much, much better, is all.”“I’m certainly feeling better.”Merlin turns away from him, then, but not in time to hide the way his smile drops. He rests his gaze somewhere out the window, to the street below. It’s a far cry from the view he gets in the physician’s quarters.“I know that face,” Gwaine says, sitting up onto his elbows. “What’s wrong?”Merlin’s lip wobbles as if he’s about to cry — unacceptable while Gwaine’s here to do something about it — but he sucks in a breath, and the tears subside.Gwaine doesn’t relent. Tears or not, something’s troubling him.“It’s alright. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”Merlin takes a moment to gather himself, biting at the nail of his thumb. “I shouldn’t have made that offer to Cassian. I should’ve known you were hurt worse than you let on. I’m supposed to be this- skilled physician!”“…in training, yes.”“How can I help anyone when I can’t even help my own friend?”“Merlin, what? I felt half-ready to join the dead last night, and suddenly I’m up and feeling better than I have in weeks!”Merlin gawks at him in horror. “You’ve been feeling that bad for weeks and I didn’t notice?”Gwaine flops back down on the bed and stares up blankly at the ceiling, utterly dumbfounded, up to the point that Merlin starts worriedly checking his vitals again. He slaps the prodding hand away from his forehead.“You’re not a bad physician. I’m a bad patient. I should have known better than to hide it from you.”“I won’t deny that.”“Great. Then it’s settled. Now, we need to eat”“We don’t have any money.”“Then we need to go find some. Come on, up we get.”From his side of the bed, Gwaine is able to push Merlin out of his way with ease — to Merlin’s detriment, of course.“No!” he yelps, sliding slowly off the edge of the bed like the mush on a pillory.Gwaine gets to his feet with a sight more grace, lending Merlin a hand when he fails to do the same. Merlin fumbles for it wildly, and Gwaine decides to grab it while he still has eyes on it.He pulls with a might he shouldn’t have yet, and remembers too late how light the servant is compared to a knight. His skull knocks straight into Gwaine’s chin before either of them can register the pain.“Sorry, sorry! Are you alright?” Merlin starts, threatening to babble… not that Gwaine minds it, really. Not when it means that he’s the center of Merlin’s world for a moment, that those hands are all over his face, every touch a living proof of his care. Not when he gets to hear the sound of his voice again without pause, when he thought he might never hear it again.Gwaine practically laughs for the joy of it. “My mistake. I forget my own strength.”Whether from relief or amusement, Merlin starts to smile, too. “Let’s not injure ourselves any more, now. I think we’ve had enough for one week.”“Eh, what’s one more?”“Maybe you’re right,” Merlin says, smacking him in the arm. “Come on. Our feast awaits.” ________________________________________ The town isn’t much, Gwaine decides, though that’s nothing against it. An inn that’s seen better days, a bustling marketplace, a good few homes scattered about. He wonders what it’s like to be in a place like this for life.“Do you like it here?” he asks.“Oh, so when I talk to a plant, I’m a ridiculous idiot, but you start talking to a horse, and-”“Merlin, please, we’re trying to have a conversation.” He turns back to the horse in question. “Is the weather fairer down here? We get some harsh winters back in Camelot. It’s those damned mountains to the north. Say, have you got a rider around?”The horse isn’t feeling particularly talkative at the moment, electing to stare blankly at him instead.“Well, thanks anyway.” He returns to Merlin, who’s leant himself back against the wall of the barn, biting his nails jagged. “C’mon, let’s go find out how much it costs for these beauties.”“Did the horse not say?”“Nay.”Before Merlin has a chance to kill him, Gwaine knocks upon the door of the next house over. Thankfully, its occupant answers without delay.“What’s the meaning of this?” she asks, eyeing the two of them like they’ve come to collect a debt.Eh, close enough. “The name’s Gwaine,” he begins. “We’re from out of town, got a bit turned around, I’m afraid — some creature in the woods that decided it wanted to make a meal out of us. We only mean to find us a couple of horses to borrow so we can make our way home safely from here.”“Sorry, but they’re not for sale.”“We’re not looking to buy, ma’am. You’d have them both back in a fortnight.”“Much as I’d love to help, I can’t hand off poor Daisy and Chestnut to just any man off the street.”“Of course, I understand. I mean, what’s some gold to a bond like that? Well, I suppose we can make it by foot.”The woman’s attitude changes before he’s even done speaking.“Wait! My husband and son can ride with you. They’ll take the horses back once they’ve served your purpose.”“Sounds fair. How much do you ask?”“…How much can a knight afford?”“How did you-”“Your sword. I’ve only seen its like on the king’s men. I’ll take it you’re heading east?”“North, actually.”“To Camelot. You’re a Camelot knight? You’re a long ways from home for a man with naught but a servant for company.”Merlin is the one confused now. “How did you-”“Well, no offense, lad, but a squire would have much finer clothes.”Gwaine bites down on his bottom lip to stop the laugh that bubbles up. He’s the one wearing shreds for a top. Albeit, his tunic’s not an easy fabric to come by. The woman’s got a fine eye for details.“I don’t believe I caught your name,” Gwaine says, saving Merlin any further embarrassment. It’s not as if her clothes are any different.“Lydia.” She holds out an expectant hand, and he shakes it firmly. “Gwaine, is it? And you’re…”“Merlin,” Merlin says, offering his hand in turn.“It’s a pleasure to meet you, lad.”“The pleasure’s all mine. Erm, we can have more money for you once we arrive in Camelot. We didn’t expect to be waylaid as we were, so our pockets are a bit tight…”“Mhm, I see,” she says, half shutting the door.“Wait! We could pay half when we leave, and send the other half back with your husband?”“Best give it to my son. He won’t waste it all on the first silver tongue to greet him.”“I assure you,” Gwaine butts in again, “we’re no common conmen. You’ll have your money, and your horses back by the end of it.”“You’d best hope so, for your own sakes.” Without warning, she unpins a small sack from her belt and hooks it onto Gwaine’s. “Bring this back to me when you can’t fit another chip of gold in it. I’ll be waiting.”The door slams shut before he can get in another word. If the expression on Merlin’s face is anything to go by, then he’s as dumbfounded as Gwaine is.“Great. How are we meant to get that much gold out here? We’d be better off walking.”Gwaine’s not so sure about that. “I’ve gotten more with less time to spare.”“You’re not suggesting that we gamble for it, are you?”“You got any better ideas?”“We don’t even have any money to gamble.”
“Yet.”
“You have an even worse idea, don’t you?”“I guess that depends on how comfortable you are with stealing.”“…Fine. But only enough to get you into the games.”“That’s the Merlin I know and love!” Gwaine proclaims, swinging an arm about his shoulders. _________________________________________ The first swipe Gwaine makes isn’t for any gold, nor silver, not even a bent copper. Their stomachs are as empty as their pockets, and they’re sure to be useless thieves without any food to keep them going. Thankfully, their time spent pilfering Camelot’s kitchens hasn’t all gone to waste. Gwaine doubts that the lone fig he snatched will miss its owner, anyway.“Here, have a bite before you pass out on me again,” he says, tossing it Merlin’s way.Merlin fumbles to catch it, and in doing so nearly tumbles into the next stand over. They’re able to walk off with nothing but a stink-eye from the seller, but Gwaine figures it’s best not to stretch their luck too thin. Merlin’s no warrior, after all.It’s as they come up to a rather good-looking fruit stand that they pass by a group of downtrodden, stone-kicking kids, no older than twelve — and with money from their parents to spare, if what he overhears is true. He glances back to let Merlin in on his plan, only to find him already approaching the small gaggle of children.“Boring day, isn’t it? When’s the last time you lot had a performer pass through?”“You’re a performer?” the tallest of the children asks, looking entirely unconvinced.“It’s one way to make a living, yeah?”“Well, what’s your act, then?”“Yeah,” Gwaine says, moving to join the crowd. “What’s your act?”The smile on Merlin’s face speaks for itself. From the nearest stand, he nabs a tin cup and three ripe apples — a red, a yellow, and a green. It’s no mystery where this is headed. Gwaine crosses his arms, bemused. There’s no world where Merlin, who couldn’t catch a gently tossed fig a moment before, can juggle.Merlin proceeds to prove him wrong for the next three minutes or so — and sorely, at that. But with every diligent flick of those fingers, the amused disbelief Gwaine has at the start smoothes over into something far softer.Merlin’s hands move with a steady grace that even he would struggle to achieve, yet his eyes stay pointed up, lips parted slightly in concentration. The apples glide through the air like arrows, soaring off behind his back and above their heads, until the colors all blend together into a solid arc, like a light stroke of paint. It’s a jester’s act, truth be told, but in Merlin’s hands it’s a fine art. Or perhaps that’s unfair; it’s an impressive skill no matter who’s behind it. It’s only now that Merlin has mastered it, though, that Gwaine’s cared enough to put any thought to it.With one last catch behind his back — who knew Merlin could be such a little show-off? — he ends his show with a bow, and the kids make merry through the marketplace, their pockets a fair bit lighter. A few other spectators come by to toss him a few coins, until the old tin cup is nearly full to the top. The merchant plain forgets that Merlin didn’t pay when he walks off with all three apples.“Here, have one,” Merlin says, handing over the green, “before you pass out on me again.”Gwaine accepts it with open glee, making a show of shining it on his shirt. “You’re a much better thief than Percival, that’s for sure.”“I’m shocked he can sneak anything at his size.”He hums in agreement. “Been having to use him as a decoy for weeks now.”“Mmm, tactical. You know, you’re a lot smarter than people think.”“…Thank you.” It’s not a compliment Gwaine is used to. Amongst the Round Table knights, he’s been placed firmly into the role of fool, and that reputation precedes him with the rest. Not to say that he’s made a concerted effort — or any effort, really — to prove it wrong. It’s much simpler to slip into the shoes set out for him than to go without, even if it does leave something to be desired. It’s a tight box to fit into, but at least he fits.He takes a bite of the apple, letting the juices run down his chin, as if to put the fool’s hat back on again. It’s a nastier habit than the drink, he thinks. But for all Gwaine tests him, Merlin never seems to lose any respect for him.Perhaps it’s only because he knows of Gwaine’s noble heritage. But then again, he disrespects Arthur on the daily…The mood is suddenly soured when their stroll takes them up to the gate; and just beyond that, the treeline. Merlin stills, face gone pale as though the blood can’t reach it. Gwaine watches him closely, waiting for him to snap out of it on his own, but the longer he stands there looking lost in his own head, the more worried Gwaine becomes. It’s not too unlike the effect of the trance itself.“Merlin,” he tries, pulling him gently away from the gate.Merlin stumbles distractedly at first, but soon finds his feet, seeming to register the touch. “Sorry,” he says, sheepish.He dismisses Merlin’s apology with a wave of his hand. “Nothing to be sorry for.”For Merlin’s comfort as much as his own, he slings an arm around his friend’s unsteady shoulders and pulls him away, back downtown. “Come on. I know the perfect spot to have our lunch…” __________________________________________  
The forest is dense this far in, cool and dark and wet like a cave. It’s pleasant here. Every tree in his wake is green and mossy, and the air is fresh despite its thick feel. The earth itself seems alive with its many bugs and burrows. He wants to plant his roots where he stands and wind into the soil.

He keeps walking, and the begging in his ear grows desperate. He keeps walking, and the begging stops.

At last, he comes upon the place he’s been looking for, and his mind is released from its trance. He understands only distantly that he was led here for a reason. It isn’t right. He tries to return back the way he came, but his feet are more a part of the forest floor than they are his own. He’s being watched, but not just by Gwaine. Oh, Gwaine…

Gwaine begs him to fight it, but he can’t. He can’t. He’s so sorry. His eyes close, and when he opens them, he sees Gwaine before him, small and brave, unsheathing his sword.

He points it at Merlin.

Merlin, with a coat of coarse brown fur and a razor-sharp maw.

He couldn’t fight it.

He’s sorry.

He’s so, so sorry.
Merlin starts awake with a gasp, hands clutching at anything in their path.“It’s alright, I’m here,” Gwaine whispers, pulling him up with an arm around his shoulders. “You’re alright.”He buries his face in Gwaine’s neck, breaths coming heavy and quick. “What if it takes me again?”“I won’t let that happen.”“You can’t stop it.”The grip on his shoulders hardens. “It gave up, Merlin. You’ll never have to see it again.”It’s not that what Gwaine says is unreasonable; evidently, they made it out alive, and they have the hindsight now to avoid the woods. Only, Merlin’s stubborn heart carries on its rapid pounding in his chest, unaffected by the soothing words as it ought to be. Gods, he hasn’t been so terrified of anything since the Dorocha. Gwaine is out of his mind if he’s truly as fearless as he acts.Even so, with every whisper from Gwaine’s lips, his own fear tapers off little by little, until he’s finally able to relax back into Gwaine’s arms once more. It’s the safest he’s felt since the start of this whole ordeal. Perhaps there’s still time left to get some sleep before the day comes.When his eyes next open, it’s to Gwaine gently nudging him awake again, his sunlit brow creased with worry. It’s barely light out yet, the sky more red than blue. Too early for Gwaine to have awoken on his own.“Gwaine?” he asks, with equal concern. “What’s wrong?”“You were having another nightmare.”“Oh. Did I wake you?”“No, no. I was already awake.”“I’m sorry.”“Not your fault. It’s early. You should get some rest.”“You too,” Merlin says, snuggling deeper into the folds of Gwaine’s tunic. And then he’s out again like the end of a wick.Some hours pass before he comes back to himself. He sees, once he has his wits about him, that he’s hardly moved a muscle since he last awoke. Gwaine’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm beneath his cheek, and a hand is laid loosely in Merlin’s hair, as if he’d fallen asleep smoothing his fingers through it.Merlin doesn’t mind the thought. Looking back, he must have fallen asleep to the sensation himself. Gwaine’s hands are rough, conniving, playful — no hint of the soft, intimate thrill he feels at the slightest touch. It’s deceiving, really. As deceptive as Merlin himself.With that in mind, there’s nothing to prevent the guilt finding him again. To trick Gwaine like this, to leave him unaware, to let him be vulnerable with someone he only trusts on a lie… Gods, he’s an awful friend, isn’t he? But how could Merlin possibly tell him? He’s not sure which would be worse: Gwaine’s rejection, or his unfailing faith.At least they managed to keep their earnings afloat. They’re halfway to securing a ride home. He can’t dwell on his guilt over Gwaine for long when Camelot — and all the trouble it brings — is practically on the horizon. Nothing is going to change, anyhow, not until the prophecy is fulfilled.The soft grunt Gwaine makes as he wakes is enough to surprise a smile out of Merlin, his pain all but forgotten. “Good morning,” he says, and he’s sure he sounds like a fool in love.“Good morning,” Gwaine responds in like, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What are you doing up?”“Just thinking.”“What about?”“…The journey home.” It’s only half a lie. “A few more days and we’ll be back in our own beds.”Gwaine’s mouth draws tight, jaw jutted forward as if to bite his cheeks. He looks unsure to Merlin, deep in thought. His eyes cut a path across Merlin’s face no fewer than three times before finally, he voices his thoughts.“We could try to make do with one horse, if you like.”It’s not often that Merlin’s made a skeptic. “You think so?” he asks. Neither of those horses looked able to carry more than one rider.“Well, if the bed situation’s taught us anything, it’s that we know how to share.”And there’s one more challenge. Riding with Gwaine might truly test Merlin’s limits — those warm breaths rushing over the back of his neck, that rumbling voice in his ear, those trained hands on his hips… Or perhaps Gwaine would be the one to ride up front, to take control of the reins with his back to Merlin’s chest, letting Merlin wrap his arms about his soft, muscled waist…“Are you sure it’ll be able to carry us both?” he says, not unreasonably.“Perhaps not,” Gwaine sighs. “I’ll walk, then.”“Gwaine, I’m not making you walk.”“I’ll be fine. We can take our time.”“No. It’s not safe out there, we can’t risk it. And… you’re still hurting, I can tell. You’ve been favoring your left side since you woke up yesterday. You’re not making it far by foot. So unless you want to ride ahead…”“I’m not leaving you behind.”“Then we’d best get us some more gold.”“We could always just steal them, you know.”“And prove Lydia right?” Gwaine may dabble in thievery, but Merlin knows he’s an honorable man. “Come on, she cares for those horses. It wouldn’t be right. Plus, we’re doing fine for ourselves here, don’t you think? We can spare an extra day or two.”Gwaine laughs, short and light. “You’re too good sometimes, you know that?”“I’m not that great. You’d be surprised.”“I mean it. You deserve better than all this.”“Well, don’t worry yourself too much. We’ll be back home before we know it, yeah?”Merlin is expecting a curt yeah back, or perhaps an acquiescent nod. Of course, Gwaine isn’t one to keep things simple.“…We could leave Camelot, you know.”
“What?”
“You could find better work just about anywhere else, you’re a physician in your own right by now. You don’t have to serve under a man like Arthur.”“I’m happy to serve him.”“Merlin… I’ve seen your scars. I don’t know what he’s done to you, but you don’t have to stay by his side. We can go back to collect your things from Camelot, but I can’t stand back and let him-”He cuts himself off, but Merlin has a sinking feeling in his gut that he knows how the sentence is meant to end.When Gwaine speaks again, his voice has gone soft, and so have his words. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”“Wh- oh no. No, Gwaine, that wasn’t Arthur.”“Really? They’re all from some other noble you serve?”“No!”“Then tell me who’s to blame.”Ever his knight in shining armor… If he could be fair to Gwaine, he would, but it’s not as if he can explain the scars without drawing suspicion on himself, not even to save Arthur’s reputation. Arthur’s life — the future of Albion — is far too important to risk.Merlin keeps his silence.“That’s what I thought,” Gwaine says, but there’s no righteous I told you so. He looks weathered at the mere thought of it, more than Merlin’s ever seen him before.Merlin’s skin is beginning to feel tight around his throat. “They’re from something else, alright? It’s not his fault. Everyone in Camelot has seen battle. But we’re not all knights. I can't always defend myself like you can.”“…You tell me if you’re ever hurt, alright? I won’t ask any questions you don’t want to answer, but you’ll come to me. You’ll let me help. Can you promise me that?”He looks sidelong at Gwaine, wide-eyed and heavy. Yet the way Gwaine looks at him holds a hundred times the weight. It’s not the same open trust he had with Lancelot, but Merlin knows he can trust Gwaine this far, at least. It’s more than he ever dared hope for.“Yeah. I can promise that.”“Good. Now let’s get us some food, I’m starving.”They get no more than an hour to grab their food and eat before Gwaine is stolen away by that innkeep again. He’s beginning to understand Gwaine’s hatred of the man.“I’ll only be a few hours,” Gwaine assures him, a steady kindness in his voice despite the strain in every corner of his face. He walks out the door, not for the first time. Merlin should be relieved that it’s not the same as then, but it feels no different. In banishment or in debt, Gwaine is gone, and Merlin is alone again.The bed feels so much colder without him. Colder than Merlin’s ever felt before. __________________________________________  Cassian raps his knuckles three times on the door, quiet enough to not startle his guest awake. He gives the lad a half a minute more to compose himself, and soon enough the door opens to a tired, grey face, the dark hair on his head mussed from sleep.“Hello. Can I help you?” the lad — Merlin, it is — asks in a confused but inviting tone.Finally, someone with manners. Cassian smiles politely back at him. “Thought you might like to collect your drunkard before he has the chance to overimbibe.”“You’re letting him off early?”“I’ve got it covered from here.”The smile that Merlin gives him is worlds brighter than the usual nod of thanks he gets from his guests. “I’ll be right down.”And then Merlin is practically bounding down the stairs to drag Gwaine excitedly out the door. Cassian can admit, it’s a joy to see some real love in the air. He goes to reclaim his job behind the counter, whistling a jaunty tune as he works.“Couldn’t spare a room, eh?”He looks up and, recognizing the customer, snatches a rag to clean out the nearest mug. “We’ve got a few empty ones now if you’re still interested,” he offers, though he’s not inclined to give it to the man for cheap.“No, no, I don’t believe I’ll stay long. I don’t fancy tending the bar for you.”Cassian sets the mug down. “Those two rascals came begging with naught but the clothes on their backs, hours after you came through! I figured you’d have moved on to the next town by that time, so I gave ‘em Miss Sefa’s old room for the night. I’m down a waitress, and the gruff one knows the territory.”“I see.”“He also didn’t come to town with a cage in tow. I told you, I haven’t got any stables-”Swifter than any wandering eye, the man presses a blade to Cassian’s gut, hidden from all the curious glances their way.“Until I get what I’m looking for, there’s more than enough room for a guest in that cage. Unlike you, I’m happy to offer more comfy quarters for the night.”Cassian makes a pointed effort to avoid looking at — and being treated to — said cage. “I don’t want any trouble, sir.”“Tell me where I can find them.” The knife’s edge presses closer, dull but nonetheless capable of following through on the threat.He throws his hands up, and the man backs himself up a step, letting Cassian take in a full breath again.“They haven’t off and left yet. I wager they’ll be here at least another two nights ‘fore they take off again.”“And where are they headed?”“…There’s an old route to the West of here. It should lead them back where they came.”The man lowers his knife, tossing a small bag onto the counter like an afterthought.“Take it. I won’t be needing it once I have the pretty one’s head.”Before he can even ask which one, the bounty hunter is out the door. Not that that bothers him any, so long as the man’s type stays out of his hair — and, more importantly, his inn. __________________________________________  No sooner is the warmth returned to Merlin than it’s taken away again. His entire body goes still as ice at the sight of it.“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Gwaine asks, turning back to pull him along. Merlin doesn’t move.Between the iron bars, he sees a tangle of long, unkempt hair, a red tattered dress, a pair of desperate hands and eyes. The only sound to greet him is the thudding of heavy chains on a cold wooden floor.He thinks back to a sunlit meadow, a great, towering mountain, a lake as calm as the dead. The air smells faintly of strawberries.He stands there and stares, unblinking — for too long, it seems, as Gwaine soon resorts to snapping his fingers in Merlin’s face.He blinks, and the cage is empty once more.Right. It’s Gwaine who’s in his care now, not Freya. He can’t fail again.“It’s fine. Come on, let’s go,” he says, as if Gwaine’s the one keeping them there.“Are you sure?”“No food if we have no money,” he reminds him. Though that’s not entirely true — stolen or bought, it’ll fill their stomachs just the same.But Merlin’s appetite is long gone.________________________________________ It’s not a large meal by any means. A ladle of stew, a halved apple, some meat off the rib — hardly enough to fill the stomach of a grown man.Merlin’s plate is still full. He slides another morcel onto Gwaine’s.Gwaine throws down his spoon. “Come on, what is it?”“It’s stew. Why, did you want some?”“That’s not what I meant.”“…The apple?” he asks, picking it up to show him. “All your travels and you’ve never seen an apple?”“Merlin, enough with the jokes. There’s something on your mind. I can see it. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”He ducks his head, staring at the apple instead of Gwaine. “You know, you’re doing a terrible job hiding your concern,” he says, picking apart the stem.“I’m not trying to hide it. Why should I?”Merlin shrugs. He’s not sure he knows, either. He’s come to expect it — or hope for it, maybe, when it isn’t shown. He’s not sure what to do with Gwaine’s brutal, honest care.Gwaine just has this way of saying things — of seeing things — that never fails to rewrite the next words in Merlin’s mouth. Simple, direct, but true. Truer than the dictations of Camelot keeping Merlin muzzled and leashed, with his head bowed like a well-trained dog. No, Gwaine grounds him, frees him, untangles the winding mess of Merlin’s thoughts as easy as a knot of hair. He wishes he could do the same for Gwaine. He wishes he could tell him so.“I’m fine,” he settles for instead. “There’s no need to worry yourself.”“You can’t fool me that easy. Something’s been troubling you. You’ve been acting out of sorts all day.”Merlin continues twisting at the stem of his hard-earned apple, until it’s pulverized to his liking. “It’s stupid,” he says, and finally takes a bite.Gwaine hums. “So it has nothing to do with that cage outside the inn?”“Wha-” He chokes on the apple in his throat, and Gwaine reaches out to pat his back until Merlin decides he’s had enough. He swats Gwaine’s hand off and looks accusingly at him. “I’m not-”“It’s alright, Merlin. It’s a brutish line of work, but it’s certainly not you he’s after. We’re safe here.”“It’s not myself I’m worried for.”“Of course not,” he mutters. “When is it ever?”“Gwaine, these people are in danger.”“And I have no plans to let them suffer that.”Oh. He supposes he’s more used to having this sort of discussion with Gaius.“So… what are we going to do?” he asks, unsure how far Gwaine is willing to take it.“Look, if this bounty hunter manages to get his hands on anyone while we’re in town, we’ll release the poor soul and wash our hands of the whole mess.”It’s the best he could have hoped to hear. But Merlin is nothing if not bullheaded.“Even if that person has magic?”He doesn’t know why he says it. He’s sure he won’t like the answer. And he won’t be able to look at Gwaine the same when he says it.Maybe it’ll fix whatever’s wrong with Merlin’s head.Gwaine, though- Gwaine stares hard at him, studying him like he knows there’s a wrong answer to this, like he might set off the trap that swallows their friendship for good.“It’s hardly fair, is it?” he ventures after some time. “Taking random folk off the street who were already minding their own business? There’s no need to put them at Arthur’s mercy, not if they haven’t done anything.”The blow Merlin’s expecting never lands. He gasps all the same. “You don’t believe all magic is evil?”“I think… magic can be dangerous. It might attract a certain type. Those who crave power for themselves.”“But it’s not all evil?”“…What is this, an interrogation? Are you going to report a drunken fool’s mad ramblings to the king?”“No, no! You’re brilliant,” Merlin says, grabbing Gwaine’s hand with a childlike joy.In that moment, Gwaine thinks the comment is better befitting of Merlin’s smile. The compliment finally catches up to him, though, and a trail of burning red creeps up his neck to consume his face.He’s sure it’s more the sun than anything. After all, Merlin seems similarly afflicted. He clears his throat, drawing his hand away from Gwaine’s, back to the apple in his lap.“I mean, what you’re saying, it’s not all that ridiculous. There’s good magic out there. I know it.”“You do?” Gwaine’s surprised to hear it from Merlin’s mouth. He’s perhaps more loyal to Arthur and to Camelot than the whole lot of knights who swore in to protect them. “How?”“Did I ever tell you about the time Arthur killed a unicorn?”“I heard tell of the tale, years before I met you two. Never gave it much thought.”“Unicorns are creatures of magic, pure magic. If you kill one, it unleashes a terrible curse, bringing misfortune to all that the hunter loves. For Arthur, that meant Camelot… all for another trophy on his wall.”If Gwaine didn’t know any better, he’d say that Merlin sounds bitter over this. He supposes it’s not all that unusual, though. Merlin always did sulk on hunts. Thinks it’s unfair to the animals, unless there’s no other choice. Sees himself in the prey more than his fellow man with that oversized heart of his.But, heartfelt or not, Merlin stands in contradiction of his own words.“If the unicorn is so pure, then why would it curse Camelot?”Merlin shrugs. “What does any animal do when it’s cornered? It doesn’t mean it’s evil. It’s just… defending itself, in a way. Though I don’t think it was the unicorn who chose it… I’m not sure where it is that the curse comes from. Either way, the curse latched onto Arthur. If it had been anyone else, maybe it wouldn’t have been so devastating, but Arthur is our king. The whole land was swept up by plague after plague.”“What, frogs and everything?”Merlin almost cracks a smile. “Not without water, no.”Gwaine sucks in a breath through his teeth. Misfortune, indeed. “But the curse was lifted.”“Yes, and the unicorn returned to life,” he adds, as though it’s just as important as ending the drought.“You really care about this unicorn, don’t you?”And just like that, Merlin’s composure shatters. “It was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. It was good, Gwaine. And it was magic.”Gwaine can’t help but stare. Merlin looks as though he’s drank the whole tavern dry, and then some. But then, the bliss flickers out.“I don’t know how Arthur could have killed it,” he mutters, like it’s a dirty secret. He’s buried it deep, this doubt. It’s hard to blame him. Gwaine has his own doubts about Arthur, after all.But for all he’s heard of this unicorn, he thinks Merlin might have it beat in purity. “Maybe the world would be a better place if we all saw things the way you do,” he tells him, sincere.“You think so?” And there’s that look again, like a young pup begging for scraps it’s never tasted.Gods above, Merlin deserves so much more than this. Arthur may not listen, but Gwaine has no intention of stooping so low. Merlin’s word is enough for him.“The curse could’ve been avoided if Arthur only saw the good in this unicorn, instead of the prize,” Gwaine says. Believes it, too.It’s soft-spoken, nothing too obtrusive — Merlin said it himself, after all — but Gwaine can’t shake the feeling that Merlin will start like a spooked horse and run off for good. He wants to see this side of Merlin again, now that it’s in his sights. He wants every last piece of him, rain or shine.“I think…” Merlin starts, and then stops. “I think that if we lost magic entirely, if Arthur continued to follow in his father’s footsteps…”“He’d be damning his people all over again?”The surprise is written plain across Merlin’s face. “…Yes. Magic’s not all bad.” He turns towards the sun, then, speaking more to himself now. “It can’t be.”They lapse back into silence, but the conversation doesn’t leave Gwaine’s mind. How many sorcerers has he killed that were just cornered in, defending themselves in the only way they knew how? Uther was a tyrant and a half, anyway. He built his own enemies from the ground up. Hell, even Morgana didn’t act any worse than a tyrant without magic did. She walked in her own father’s footsteps. Damned nobles.Uther killed his own people for their magic, no matter the crime — no matter their innocence — and what had it accomplished? There was nothing to show for it. Possibly, he endangered Camelot even more, just as Arthur had when he killed the unicorn. Perhaps the new king is endangering Camelot even now.What is Merlin trying to tell him? That he doesn’t believe in Arthur anymore?Gwaine thinks of the scars on the kind servant’s body, of his flimsy excuses. He’s not sure he believes in Arthur anymore, either. ________________________________________ Gwaine slams a fist full of money on the counter.Cassian doesn’t look up from the tankard he’s wiping off. “What’s this then?”“Five silvers,” Gwaine declares, tossing his hair back over his shoulder.At last, he gets a smile out of their host. “You can keep your money. Need that horse, don’t you?”“Two horses, in fact.”“Well, don’t get your hopes up. Anyway, there’s a path ‘round the East end of town — should set you back North where you came.”“How did you know-”“That you’re a knight of Camelot?” He chuckles, good-naturedly. “That’s my friend’s horses you’re tryin’ to buy off her.”“Borrow, really.”“Plus, I’ve seen your sword. It’s no commoner’s, that’s for sure.”“Well, thank you. Let me know when you want me back tending the bar.”Cassian waves his towel dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. In fact, there’s a little something I’ve been meaning to do for you.”Gwaine glances over at Merlin, questioningly, but Merlin looks just as confused as he is.That is, until Cassian pulls out a key numbered 15.“Had a few guests take off this morning. It’s a much larger room than the one you’re in now, two beds and a real bath.”Two beds?Gwaine thinks back to the past few nights. Even through the injuries and the night terrors, he’s felt more himself than he has in months, having Merlin close like that. It wouldn’t feel right, to sleep alone again.He really is down bad, isn’t he?He wrings his hands, scrambling for any excuse to refuse his generosity, only for Merlin to beat him to it.“We wouldn’t want to be a burden. We’ve had worse, right, Gwaine?”“Right! And we only have so much coin. You’ve been generous enough.”“It’s really no trouble.”“…Maybe a second pillow though?”“An extra blanket would be nice.”“Oh, and do bring that bath, perhaps with some rose petals in i- ow!”Merlin removes his boot from Gwaine’s toes and smiles politely back at Cassian who, thankfully, is looking between them with nothing worse than some mild amusement.“Right, then. I suppose that can be arranged.”“Thank you so much. Come on Gwaine, we’d best leave him to it.”Gwaine can’t say he disagrees. The gambling’s already begun, and one game of dice in particular is calling out to him.His funny feeling, as it turns out, doesn’t lead him astray. He has a grand streak of luck, the dice taking his side on almost every roll. He’s half-convinced that the sixes are painted on every side by the end of it.He pockets his earnings, throwing a wink to Merlin a few tables down, enjoying the way it makes him giggle. The servant’s passed his time watching the goings-on from his own little corner, cheering with the crowd on Gwaine’s wins and oohing on his losses. All the while, he’s sipped at his drink; and though it’s not a very strong one, he suspects Merlin’s going to end the night as drunk as a lord.But the other team’s running low on drinks, and Gwaine’s pockets clink with every step, so they shake hands and go their separate ways. Not a bad night, all things considered.He takes the seat across from Merlin, waving down a maid for some bread and ale. She’s happy to assist the richest man in the room, swiftly fetching them two plates and a second pint. He spares a few extra coin for her troubles. If his luck holds tomorrow, it’ll hardly matter, anyway.“You ready to head up for the night?” he asks, taking in Merlin’s flushed, giddy state. He might have to cut the poor boy off from the ale already, and the game took hardly an hour.“No, no, this is nice. Let’s stay for a bit. How much did you get?”“How much- oh, yes. About enough for one horse, if you can believe it.”Merlin claps his hands, once, loudly. “One more night and we can make our way home! Or two, maybe… One night a horse…”Gwaine does a good job hiding his snickering behind his own cup. “Seems like it. Say, how many of those have you had to drink?”“Just three.”Ah, he’s well past his limit, then.…Oh, to hell with it. Merlin deserves some fun.“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”“Not really. Well, I’m pretty sure that woman over there-” Merlin says, pointing indiscreetly three tables over, “-is having an affair.”“Really? Do you think she’s up for one more?” he asks, raising his eyebrows theatrically.Merlin just laughs at him. “I’m not sure. It sounds like it’s with another woman.”“That’s one lucky lady.”The red in Merlin’s cheeks grows even more vibrant, if possible.“What is it?”“It’s nothing.”“It’s something.”Merlin huffs, as if Gwaine’s truly cornered him with that. Gwaine loves drunk people — when they’re not throwing punches at his face, anyway — but a drunk Merlin is something of a special occasion.“You don’t seem surprised,” Merlin says, sticking his nose back in his pint.Gwaine snorts. “That a woman like that would leave a man like him? I’d be surprised if she didn’t.”“I mean, that she’s with another woman. It doesn’t surprise you?”“Please, have you ever seen a woman? They’re lovely. Who can blame her?”Her husband is probably an ungrateful slack, anyway. He’s seen it happen too many times.“But what about… what about if it was two men? Would you think it odd, then?”…How drunk is he?“I didn’t think you were the type to care about that sort of thing,” Gwaine says, taking a longer swig. Of course someone as insulated and naïve as Merlin wouldn’t get it. He tries not to take offense, but it hurts, just a little. Just enough. His kindness and understanding really couldn’t reach just a bit further?“No, no, it’s not that!” Merlin is quick to defend. “I don’t think it’s odd. But, well, a lot of people do. I just wanted to know if you do. Which, you don’t. That’s good.”“Alright.” Gwaine takes another drink.“But- well, nevermind, it’s stupid.”“I’m sure it isn’t.”“Well, I mean, sometimes I just wonder… you know?”“This may surprise you, but I won’t actually know until you complete the sentence.”Gwaine doesn’t think it’s too much to ask, but Merlin’s anxious stammering makes him second-guess that. It’s kind of sad. He’s usually a much happier drunk than this.“It’s just… haven’t you ever thought about it?”“About what, exactly?”“About… men.”“You mean, with other men?”“I mean,” Merlin says, quieting his voice so that even Gwaine struggles to hear, “with yourself.”Gwaine sets his pint back down.“Merlin, are you interested in men?”“Uh… no? Yeah, no.”“Alright.” Gwaine takes another drink.“But, I mean, if I was a woman, then I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. I could be with a man and no one would think it odd at all.”Gwaine sets his pint back down.“This is something you worry about?”“No, of course not! But- oh, forget I said anything.”Now, how is he supposed to do that? “Merlin, I’m not going to judge you for your tastes. It’s not only women I take to bed, after all.”“Really?” There’s as much hope in Merlin’s voice as there is curiosity. “And it doesn’t… worry you?”“Look, I don’t exactly advertise it. Polite society tends to hush up on the matter.”“Right, sorry… but you have done it?”“Oh, I’ve done more than you know.”Merlin looks relieved at that — and a bit flustered, Gwaine’s proud to say.“Well, I’m glad it’s more common than I thought. It always just felt like there was something wrong with me.” He laughs as he says it, as if that’ll make it tug at Gwaine’s heartstrings any less. “I know there’s nothing wrong with it, not really, but… it’s easy to feel left out, I suppose. Like I’m missing a part of me that’s supposed to be there.”That Merlin could ever feel this way — as if his very presence isn’t a blessing in itself — it breaks Gwaine’s heart. No, melts it, more like, lets it trickle to his stomach and harden into rock. The heat of it is suffocating.Careful not to startle him, he reaches across the table and takes Merlin’s hand in his. Perhaps it’s only the drink making him act so soppy, but he can’t see another fix to this. There’s no joke Gwaine can crack that will take this weight off his chest. It’s for the best. Merlin’s an affectionate sort, anyway.“How you are, how you were born — it’s perfectly natural. Just the way people are, sometimes.”It doesn’t have the desired effect. Merlin swallows roughly, looking away. “I know that. I do. But I just wish, sometimes, that I could be like everyone else. I don’t want to lose any friends over it.”“Well… I can promise you, you won’t lose me.”Merlin’s eyes lock on their hands, still joined between their plates. His eyes mist over just a little. “Thank you. I mean it, Gwaine.”“You are going to make someone very happy some day, whoever they are.”“You really think so?”“Without a doubt. Doesn’t hurt, either, that you’re easy on the eyes.”“I am?”“We are getting you a mirror when we get back to Camelot.”The comment gets a laugh out of Merlin. “I think I’ve only been called handsome by three people my whole life, and one of those is my mother.”“Well, that’s just not fair. I’m sure plenty of people think it. You’ve never thought someone handsome but kept it to yourself?”“Of course I ha- oh.”“There you go.”“…So you’re saying I have a chance?”“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” It doesn’t escape him that their hands are still touching. “What I mean to say is, you don’t have to settle for the first person who looks your way. Don’t ever settle for any less than you deserve.”Merlin scoffs. “That’s easy for you to say. You probably have people falling over their own feet for the chance.”“Aww, are you calling me handsome?”“Yes!” he whispers, leaning in close as if to hide from the crowd. “You’re ridiculously handsome, I thought I imagined you at first!”Gwaine chokes on his last swig. “Merlin- are you jealous, or are you making a pass at me?”“I… don’t know,” he says, drawing his hand out from under Gwaine’s. “I mean- I’m not!”“It wasn’t a yes or no question.”Merlin’s nostrils flare, exasperated. “I’m not jealous or making a pass at you!”“No need to be shy. You’re a little keen on me, aren’t you?”“Gwaine!”“Tell me, Merlin: is it the hair, or just my general charm?”“What charm? Your jokes are atrocious.”“So it’s the hair?”The only response he gets to that is a scathing roll of the eyes.Gwaine leans back, crossing his arms back behind his head. “It’s the hair.”“I can go, if you like. I’ll- I’ll take the other room Cassian offered,” Merlin decides, pushing back his chair to leave. “Or you can take it! He did say it’s nicer, after all, and I owe you that much at least, what with you saving me from a magical beast that tried to eat me and all-”“Merlin. Stop talking.”Merlin’s inane rambling stumbles to a halt. He sits back down, though Gwaine can feel the bouncing of his leg through the table.“Sorry.”“Don’t apologize. I was only joking, I didn’t mean to upset you.”“I overreacted.”“But I shouldn’t have toyed with you like that.”“Well… we’ve both been drinking,” Merlin supplies. His lips quirk up at the corner, almost imperceptibly, and Gwaine knows he’s been forgiven.He takes the offer while he has it. “See? Neither of us is thinking straight. It’s alright. Nothing to cry over, yeah?”“Yeah…” Merlin mumbles, downtrodden; then, he perks up with new purpose. “Yeah! Let’s not linger on it. We had a good day, haven’t we?”“And a long one. What do you say we head back to the room and get some sleep?”Merlin nods his agreement, standing unsteadily from his chair to make good on it.When they return to their quarters, it’s to the extra pillow they requested, and another fine, cushiony blanket to share.Sat in the center of the room, a still steaming bath with bulbous pink petals awaits.“Well… it’s not roses, but it definitely sets the mood, don’t you think?”“I can’t believe you actually said that.” But Merlin is laughing again, unbothered by the fact.Gwaine lets himself crack a smile, too. “I can’t believe he actually did it.”“Well, you asked for it. In you get.”He turns back to look at Merlin, a question on his lips, but before he has a chance to voice it, Merlin puts two hands to his chest and gives him a solid push.Gwaine suddenly regrets every nice thing he’s ever said about Merlin. He lands with a great, heavy splash, soaking his fresh clothing and half the floor with it. He splutters as he resurfaces, shaking the water out of his face and hair. When he’s able to open his eyes again, it’s to the sight of Merlin laughing like a madman.“You fiend!”“You need a proper bath.”“This is hardly proper. I’m still fully clothed.”Merlin’s cheeks light like a fire. He’s the very picture of starving inexperience — though not of the usual kind. A physician would know the body inside and out, after all. Gwaine’s given Merlin a most detailed image. And after their conversation tonight, knowing what he knows about Merlin’s sense of taste, he finds himself in a similar predicament.“Well, I can just…” Merlin wrings his hands, preparing to flee like a rabbit at the slightest sound. “…I can go for a while, if you need me to-”“No!” Shit, why did he say that?Unfortunately, Merlin stalls in his tracks. “No?”“I… can’t reach my back?” What kind of excuse is that?“…Huh? Oh! Gods, how could I let myself forget? Of course I’ll help you. You’re hardly healed yet, we don’t want you straining yourself over nothing.”
Oh, the wound. That’s right.
He takes Merlin’s proffered hand, pulling himself up, but then a mischievous, clever thought takes hold. Once upright, he grabs onto Merlin and hugs him tight, wringing out all the water from his own clothes into Merlin’s. Merlin yelps at the betrayal, hitting his knight’s back for good measure, but Gwaine only squeezes his arms around him tighter, picking his feet up off the ground.“Gwaine!” he wheezes, but Gwaine is having too much fun to set him down just yet.“I take it you don’t need help with your back, then.”“Only if you don’t mind getting wet.”He shakes his hair off in Merlin’s face for good measure, basking in the thrill of the fight. Though, perhaps it is a bit unfair, a trained knight against an unarmed servant…He sets Merlin down, and corrects himself. Merlin is armed, with a glare that could make even Uther wilt under it — well, if he wasn’t already dead.But a moment later, Merlin breaks into a smile, and the apology dies on Gwaine’s lips before it can even form.“You stink,” he says instead.“You stink worse. Come on, now. Get in the bath before you start attracting flies.”Well, he was the one to insist. Gwaine begins to strip, and Merlin goes off to sit on the bed and stare at a blank wall, giving him his privacy.
Pfft. As if he has any virtue left to protect.
Still, it’s nice to have some respectful company. And if his eyes don’t leave Merlin’s back ‘til he’s dry, that’s on the creature, not Gwaine, for the scare that it gave.The bath turns out to be a pleasant one. A bit rushed — he doesn’t want to leave Merlin to wash with naught but cold water, after all — but he’s relaxed enough now to fall fast asleep.That is, if he can keep himself from talking the whole night away.“That innkeep definitely thinks we’re a couple,” he fails.“That’s too bad,” Merlin replies from the pillow opposite. “He’s a good-looking man. I might’ve taken a shot at him if I had the chance.”Gwaine’s fingers clench tight in the sheets.“Is there someone you’ve got your eye on?” he asks, holding his voice steady. “Back in Camelot, I mean.”Merlin rolls onto his elbow, resting his head in his palm. “To be honest, it’s not something I really think about.”So much for sleeping. “You don’t?” he asks as he sits himself up against the headboard, shoving the pillow beneath his lower back. “You always seemed like the type who would want- I don’t know, a family. Something permanent.”“I used to. But it’s a bit hopeless, isn’t it? There’s no one out there for me. Not anyone who would feel the same, anyway.”“Not a big believer in true love, then?”“I am — when it’s Gwen and Arthur.”“But not yourself.”He’s graced with a ghost of a smile. “You don’t know what it’s like, to… to know you have no chance, to feel awful for even wanting it. No one would want to be wanted by me.”Something about that irks Gwaine, beyond Merlin’s obvious diffidence. “You’re wrong. I do understand.”Merlin levels him with a disbelieving look. “Gwaine.”“Your fear that your friends will all leave you? I have lost friends, good friends. People I cared about. Someone who…” He shakes his head; it’s not a memory worth holding onto. “He wanted nothing to do with me, all because I fancied him a little. I know what it’s like, and I hope you never will.”“…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”“You didn’t know.”“I’m sorry they put you through that.”“Eh, it worked out for the best. I have you now, if I haven’t scared you off yet.”Merlin doesn’t join in on the joke. “You know I care for you, right?”“Sure,” Gwaine shrugs, “but it’s nice to hear it. Speaking of, you still think I’m handsome, right?”“You might be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And that voice, it’s downright- gods, I think I’d better stop talking before I say something that’ll really get me into trouble.”“You might be a wee bit drunk. But that’s alright, I won’t tell.”“You’re a good friend, Gwaine.”“I don’t mind that, you know. If you ever… thought about me, in that way. It doesn’t bother me. I’d still be your friend.”“You’re really not bothered by that?”“It’s a bit of a relief, really. I thought I might have found the one person who’s immune to my charms.”Merlin scoffs. “Arthur’s in Camelot.”That startles a laugh out of Gwaine. “My point is, I’m incredibly handsome, so it’s normal to be a bit… curious.”“Are you making a pass at me?”“Well, you’re not too bad yourself, I could do worse.”“You really don’t mind?”“I’m honored, if anything.”“Not… disgusted? Uncomfortable?”How could he be? He knows what it is to be used. He’s been strung along and discarded before, cast out and left on the streets. For all Merlin needs of him, though, he’s never once felt used by him. Merlin had once begged Gwaine to stay with him, where he would be safe and sheltered, with no regard for himself — taking Gwaine in like a stray off the street. He’s kind like that. Thoughtful. He has a good heart. There’s no world where Gwaine would feel disgusted to have his attentions, even if he didn’t feel the same.“Not if it’s you. You’re still the best friend I’ve ever had.”“If you must know… I really do try to avoid thinking about anyone like that — and yes, that includes you,” he adds, poking the tip of Gwaine’s nose. “It can’t go anywhere, why try? May as well pass on the disappointment.”“So there was someone.”“Maybe a couple of someones. It doesn’t matter now. We’ll want to wake up early tomorrow.”“You’re probably right,” he concedes, settling back down into the mattress. “Get some sleep.”“You too, Gwaine.” ________________________________________ They plan to stay two more nights after that. By then, they should be well on the mend, and with plenty of gold to spare. It’s an unusual thought for Merlin — that he’ll be in good health, and in good wealth.Even so, he’s anxious to get out of this town and back home safe. Every day that he spends away from Camelot is a reminder of the woods standing in his way. Perhaps it’s why he’s so willing to interfere when Gwaine’s luck takes a turn for the worse.It hasn’t been all bad, of course. But the gold Gwaine’s managed to stack up in the afternoon dwindles with each losing round, and they can’t afford to leave with what they brought. Thankfully, no one takes notice of the gold in Merlin’s eyes — only that on the table.It has the desired effect. Little by little, the strain leaves Gwaine’s face, and his smile becomes gradually less of an act. His renewed confidence soothes Merlin’s nerves. At this rate, they’ll be back in their own beds by the time that two days is up.The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, then, and his mood falters. Someone is watching him. He turns in his chair, following his senses, and his eyes land on two men in the corner. Their whispers hush when they catch his gaze on them, and suddenly they’re looking anywhere but him.It’s while Merlin is distracted that the room fills with a mix of cheers and groans. He turns back to find that Gwaine’s lost another round — and not on a small gamble, either. Merlin will have to fix that. Not a difficult task in a room full of drunks.He cups his hands around his mouth and brazenly shouts, “Go all in!” The rest of the tavern-goers are quick to join him, goading the entire playing table to throw in tonight’s wins. The look Gwaine shoots Merlin is one of pure disbelief, but Merlin merely winks and nods. Perhaps the mead has gotten to him just a teensy bit.Gwaine turns back to the expectant crowd. “What the hell,” he says, and throws the rest of the night’s earnings on the table.The room goes quiet and tense as the dice roll, though never to the numbers the other players need. When Gwaine wins again, the crowd erupts in cheers and hollers.A chair pushes back from the table in the corner.“These men are nothin’ but thieves!” one of the men loudly declares, pointing accusingly between Merlin and Gwaine.The crowd dissolves into an unsettling mumble. Merlin and Gwaine share a wide-eyed look, but Gwaine shakes his head ‘no’, striding confidently up to the man.“My friend,” he makes his appeal, “if you’d like a share of tonight’s prizes, you need not point fingers. A flagon of ale for every table!” he declares, holding out a bag of silvers to the woman waiting them.The man shoves at Gwaine’s chest, making him stumble back a step. “You’re all fools! These men have cheated you out of a lot more than the worth of a flagon of ale!”Merlin senses the moment the mood shifts out of their favor.“You’ve been winnin’ a lot these past few days,” another player speaks out. He’s a burly man, and apparently well-respected among his fellows. All eyes turn to Gwaine.Gwaine swallows roughly. “Gentlemen, I assure you, I control the dice no more than you do. But every game has a winner. I had a stroke of luck this round, that’s all.”“I don’t believe you,” the larger man says, coming to a stop mere inches from Gwaine’s face. Gwaine cringes away from the man’s undoubtedly foul breath, but puffs his chest out at him, giving as good as he gets.“How about this,” Gwaine reasons. “I’ll sit out the rest of tonight’s games, and we’ll all see where the luck turns to then.”“I want my money back!” the player yells, grabbing Gwaine by his shredded collar and throwing him down onto the table.Merlin practically jumps out of his chair, running up to place a gentle but firm hand on the stranger’s shoulder. “I think we’ve all had a bit too much to drink. I suggest you sit down and think this through.”The man lets go of Gwaine, only to aim every bit of hatred in his eyes at Merlin. “You’re in on it!” he declares, winding back a solid fist — headed right for Merlin’s face.Merlin winces, preparing for the blow. But before it can hit, a hand wraps around the man’s fist, pulling it down behind his back.“You touch a hair on his head, you’re going to get a lot worse than a black eye,” Gwaine growls in the brute’s ear, his face as serious as it is in battle. He throws their erstwhile attacker into the table, and the wood splinters under the force, breaking it in half. A few part from the crowd to help him back up, brushing the dust from his clothes.He smacks their hands away and points at Merlin and Gwaine. ”Get them!”Gwaine flashes a friendly smile throughout the room, grabs Merlin by the wrist, and runs.They make it out the door in a matter of seconds, a raging mob hot on their heels. But two can move faster than a cluster of drunken feet. The first chance he gets, Merlin swings Gwaine into an empty alleyway between two homes; the mob runs right past without notice.“What’s the punishment for thieves in this town again?” Gwaine asks, doubling over as he catches his breath.
“Off with their heads!”

“Nay, take off their thieving hands!”

“I’ll have their sorry hides quartered for this!”
Merlin winces. “Maybe they’ll let us off with a warning.”An ax hits the wall right between their heads, twanging in a wooden board, and all such hopes flee their minds.“Gwaine… run.”They take off again, Gwaine a step ahead of him. But the mob’s split up in their search, and the ones currently giving chase are much quicker on their feet. Merlin tries his best to keep his own feet under him, but he’s clumsy enough at full sober, nevermind with a drink or two. Gwaine’s solid grip on his arm is the only thing that keeps him from tumbling face-first in the dirt.The entrance to the East road is just around the next corner, and it’s a safe bet — not that he’s the greatest judge — that the stragglers won’t pursue them far from the safety of the town.It takes only one misstep to dash his hopes. It was only a matter of time before his uncoordinated feet were going to get the best of him. Merlin’s body hits the ground, followed closely by his face. As he coughs up the dust from his lungs, Gwaine comes to a stop to help him up, and doesn’t let go until he’s standing on his own again.But Merlin’s little vertical detour has cost them in time. Three men in various states of pissed-off are already upon them, and more are coming down the other end of the road to join the commotion. If they don’t get out soon, the path will be blocked.The first three are already knocked to the ground by the time Merlin gets a good look, and they’re not getting up any time soon. Up against Gwaine, anyone would be lucky to be standing upright by the end. But even Gwaine can only take on so many at once, wounded as he is.To hell with the East path. They’ll find another way.Merlin joins the fray, pulling one off of Gwaine so he can take on the other. It’s not long before Merlin gets an elbow to the gut, but Gwaine is quick to take out his attacker then, giving them the time they need to run ahead of the growing mob. They take to the perimeter of the town, hopping over broken-off pieces of the rickety old fence. The gate where they first entered is in their sights. It might be the only chance they get.They pass through the gate, and Merlin skids to a halt. The way East is blocked off by the very river Gwaine followed to get here. The only path left leads them straight through the forest, and the mob is closing in behind them.With only seconds to spare, Gwaine drags Merlin onward by the hand, back into the territory of the creature that brought them here. __________________________________________  The mob dissipates the deeper they traverse. He can hardly blame them — or thank them, rather. The trail is rocky and narrow, thinning out as they move along, and overgrown with thick roots and clusters of ferns. It’s no wonder they didn’t find it on the way in.And then it stops. Before them lies an ever-darkening wood, an endless sea of trees separating them from the safety of the citadel.They’re right back where they started.“No!” Merlin howls, taking his frustration out on a small boulder at the trail’s end. He ignores the ache he surely feels from kicking it and falls to his knees, head in his hands. “We’re never going to make it out of here.”Gwaine lays a hand on his shoulder, enough to comfort but not crowd. “It’s going to get dark soon. Look at where the sun’s setting. See? That means we’re still headed north. We’ll be back in no time.”“I hope so,” he says, but his tearful look remains, even after Gwaine starts them a fire. It’s not much, not with nothing to cook over it — though they at least had the foresight to set out some traps — but it’ll still keep them warm for the night.In the meantime, Gwaine sits idly by the fire, holding his hands out over it to restore the feeling to his fingers. Merlin does the same across from him, and the guilt that he should even need to do so hits Gwaine with all the blunt force of an anvil.“I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”Merlin’s head snaps back up at his apology. “How?”“…I got us chased out of town by a mob. Again.”“It’s not your fault.”“Then whose is it?”Merlin is silent for a moment. “I don’t know. We didn’t have enough for the horses. What else were you going to do?”He supposes that’s true enough. He couldn’t exactly demand that Merlin juggle them a steady income. Still, it weighs heavy on him. He needs Merlin to know that he’s sorry for how it turned out. It should have never come to this.“I promise you I didn’t cheat.”“I know that. I believe you.”But he won’t look Gwaine in the eye when he says it.“I’m sorry,” Gwaine says again. It’s not what Merlin needs to hear, but he means it.At last, Merlin’s eyes meet his, and hold steady to him. “I’m sorry, too.”They don’t talk again after that.Gwaine takes up the first watch, stoking the fire with his legs pulled up to his chest. The firelight flows like water over Merlin’s restful face, casting the hollows of his cheeks in shadow while the curves take on a red glow. He looks somehow sharp and soft all at once.It takes a shameful while for Gwaine to realize that the movement on Merlin’s face is from more than the billowing flames. Merlin will almost certainly insist he can manage the cold, but the sound of his chattering teeth tells Gwaine otherwise.“We’ll catch our deaths out here,” he calls over the crackling of the fire.The chattering stops, just long enough for Merlin to respond. “Are you cold?” he asks, and then the chattering resumes.Gwaine nods. “Freezing.”“I can take over the watch if you want.”“You’re not a warrior, Merlin.”Merlin sighs and sits himself upright, coming over to take a seat at Gwaine’s side. He pulls Gwaine in closer, his arm wrapping snug about his knight’s waist. Without thinking, Gwaine leans into him, winding an arm tight around his shoulders.“You need to sleep,” he adds, a bit needlessly.“So do you.”“Can’t. One of us has to take watch.”“What difference will it make out here? We can’t put out the fire. Any bandit that comes through will see us. We have no element of surprise. We may as well rest while we can.”Gwaine hates to admit it, but Merlin is right. They’re either at the mercy of the elements, or the mercy of whoever might follow their tracks. There’s no telling if there’s anyone else in these woods, bandit or other, but in his current state, Merlin is far more certain to die without the warmth of the fire. It’s a risk they have to take.Merlin takes it for him, sensing Gwaine’s unease. He starts by peeling off his own thin jacket, ignoring Gwaine’s protests that he’ll take ill, and lays it down upon the ground by the fire, before laying down himself. After a moment of indecision, Gwaine follows, pulling Merlin into his arms to share in his heat.Merlin makes himself comfortable, nestling his nose into Gwaine’s chest while Gwaine rests his chin on the top of his Merlin’s head. It’s how they’ve spent the past few nights, fitting into each other like lock and key. By habit, their legs tangle together, and they end up pressed closer than what’s customary between friends. But after some time, Merlin’s shivering ceases, and Gwaine is truly at rest.Morning comes and washes away some of the cold. Their bed of grass is wet with frost melt, and the fire is down to ashes. They need to keep moving. The sooner they reach Camelot, the better — so long as they avoid the depths of the woods.Merlin goes on to check the traps they set the night prior. With little else to do, Gwaine scans the area for any sign of bandits. Neither man finds anything of value. Hearts and feet heavy, they move on from their paltry camp.It isn’t ‘til the sun is well past its peak that they stop again. Even with hours of sunlight ahead of them yet, they need to eat and rest their feet. Camelot shouldn’t be far, anyhow. Perhaps they can make the rest of the journey through the night, if Merlin can take it. Whether or not that proves true, they may as well set up camp.Gwaine sits crouched over a damp bundle of wood, hands too stiff to make much use of it. It’s on his third attempt at a fire that he hears it. It’s only a slight sound — the crunching of some old fallen leaves — but it comes entirely from his right hand side. Merlin still stands straight ahead of him. Putting a hand to the pommel of his sword, he rises to his feet, turning slowly so as not to alert the potential game.It isn’t any game. A soft arch of wood and a flash of feathers are all he sees, though by then it’s far too late. A sharp twang sounds, and a cry escapes him at the sudden, piercing pain in his arm. He hisses through his teeth, grasping at the site with his free hand, only for his fingers to wrap around the bloody shaft of an arrow.
”Gwaine!”
With his uninjured arm, he takes up his sword and points it into the foliage where the bow was last to be seen, mindful of Merlin, who’s taken up residence on his wounded side.“Break it off,” he demands, voice harsh and heated.Merlin looks between Gwaine and the surrounding woods warily. “Have you gone mad? You need Gaius-”“We won’t get to Gaius with an arrow sticking out of my arm!”Gwaine doesn’t wait for Merlin’s response, eyes trained straight ahead at a small patch of bushes and trees — the archer could hardly be hidden elsewhere.And then he’s crying out again as the shaft of the arrow snaps without warning, reverberating through the length of his arm.“It’s alright, you’re alright,” Merlin shushes him, soothing over his arm with cold hands.Gwaine breathes rapidly through his nose, bringing his body back under his control. “Show yourself!” he shouts at their attacker, goading as he draws near his target.“I thought you’d never ask,” a smooth, deep voice comes from behind, but it’s the sound of Merlin’s startled gasp that has Gwaine spinning on his heel.The man is alone, though he comes dressed like any other bandit in these woods, and with morals to match. He holds Merlin — small, defenseless, servant Merlin — back against his chest, a knife gleaming dangerously at his throat.The sight pulls a protective snarl past Gwaine’s lips. “Let him go.”“Put the sword down, Sir Gwaine.”“Gwaine, don’t do anyth- ah!”His eyes follow the thin stream of blood tracking its path down Merlin’s neck, soaking into the scarf where it sits low on his throat.Gwaine growls, adjusting his grip on his sword. “He’s not the one you should be worried about. Your fight is with me.”“Oh, I haven’t come for a fight,” the bandit laughs. “I’ve come to claim my prize. You wouldn’t believe how much this boy’s head is worth, alive or dead! I know of at least a few customers willing to pay a hefty fortune to get their hands on him, the Lady Morgana not least of all.”Merlin and Gwaine both freeze at the name. A bounty hunter — and one at Morgana’s beck and call.“I know from my dealings with the witch that she’s not opposed to damaged goods. You’d do well to behave if you want your boy to stay in one piece. Perhaps I could be persuaded to leave him in more merciful hands.”“You let him go, and then maybe we can talk mercy.”The knife at Merlin’s throat digs deeper, and Merlin begins to struggle in earnest against the hunter’s hold. Quicker than Gwaine can follow, the man darts the blade up to the corner of Merlin’s eye, dragging it along the edge of his eyelashes. Merlin goes still as stone at the touch.“Put the sword down, Sir Gwaine. I’ve done much worse than take out a man’s eye. He’s worth a lot of money to me, with or without it.”Gwaine falters under the threat. The fear is written plain across Merlin’s face, even as he tries to look brave. He’s barely breathing now, for every movement brings him closer to the knife. The man clearly intends to take his bounty by any means, and there’s no talking him out of it.Gwaine puts his sword down.The hunter comes closer, still holding Merlin. “On your knees. Hands behind your back.”“Gwaine, no…” Merlin says, voice quiet and choked, but he’s cut off again when the knife glides down to trace along his cheekbone, threatening to carve into the skin there. It comes to rest with the edge of the blade between Merlin’s lips longways like a gag, forcing his mouth to open wider or be cut. The hunter twists it then, pointing the tip of the blade into Merlin’s mouth, and pushes it inside until only the handle can be seen. The threat is clear: one light nudge, and Gwaine loses the best friend he’s ever had.The knife comes to a stop at what must be the back of Merlin’s throat, for his breath stops entirely for a moment, and when it starts again it’s forced shallow. He’s hardly able to breathe around it. He might just pass out onto the blade if it goes on for much longer. It’s a cruel and unusual torture. Merlin’s eyes are open wide, seeking Gwaine out — whether in hope of rescue or comfort, he can’t be sure.Desperate, Gwaine gets to his knees, hands folded obediently behind his back. The knife returns to the skin of Merlin’s throat, though the hunter keeps his captive close as he moves to circle behind Gwaine.There comes the sound of a solid thump, followed by a much duller thud — no doubt from Merlin’s body hitting the ground. He’s almost grateful to get to join his Merlin in their forced slumber, where he won’t have to grapple with the guilt of his failure.The last Gwaine sees of Merlin is his bloodied, unconscious face in the grass at his captor’s feet. Another thump from behind, and his own world goes blissfully dark.__________________________________________ Gwaine’s wrists ache. So do his feet, and his head, and his flank. Not to mention his arm — though his captor seems to have patched that much up, at least. Better yet, his hands are tied before him now, not behind.He came to a while ago now, though he can’t say that’s a good thing. Merlin’s still out cold, and this bounty hunter of theirs isn’t as talkative as Gwaine had initially made him out to be.And it only gets better. The man has them walking in the exact opposite direction of Camelot, back towards the town they’d just narrowly escaped from, thus undoing all their hard-earned progress.At least Merlin gets a horse, even if he is tied onto it. Gwaine did not get so lucky. His bound wrists are attached to a fathom of rope, and that rope is secured to the horse’s tackle, forcing him to follow on his feet or be dragged across the forest floor. Neither option is very attractive, though the former is probably a fair bit less agonizing.It goes on this way for some time, until the hunter decides to stop and eat. Gwaine’s not had a full meal in his stomach since the inn; the mere smell of the venison cooking over the fire is nothing short of torture. Once again, he’s glad Merlin isn’t being made to endure it.It’s a great distraction from the worry gnawing at his stomach, even worse than the hunger. Merlin should be awake by now. He was knocked out before Gwaine was, yet Gwaine’s been back on his feet for hours. He’s seen hardly a twitch from Merlin since — not even when the hunter cut his bonds to pull him down from the horse. Gwaine could only watch as his friend’s limp body slid to the ground like a dead deer.Merlin’s hands are bound tight before him now, with a single ankle lashed to a wooden stake, putting him just out of Gwaine’s reach. It’s a bit much for an unconscious man, when Gwaine — a full knight, for whatever that’s worth — is kept by a sole length of rope. Perhaps the hunter expected Merlin to have awoken by now. With that possibility in mind, Gwaine can’t fight his worry off any longer.“He should be awake by now,” he says, though he expects nothing useful from their captor.He does expect the chuckle he gets for it. It’s the explanation that takes him by surprise.“Not after the draught I gave him.”Gwaine nearly breaks his own neck to glare at the man. “You’ve drugged him?”“Only until we reach the cage. Nothing gets past those bars.”“What do you think he’ll do? He’s just a serving boy, he’s not a warrior.”“You don’t know?”“What don’t I know? No, what do you think you know?”“He hasn’t told you,” the man says. “He doesn’t trust you.”There’s no armor that can block such a blow. Gwaine chooses to ignore it. After all, what would a complete stranger know about his Merlin that Gwaine doesn’t? It’s not as if Merlin is telling his secrets far and wide if he won’t even let his closest friends in.“Please, you don’t need to do this,” he pleads. “I know him. He’s no threat to you.”“With you around, I suppose he wouldn’t be… Very well. He should wake soon regardless.” The flippant, satisfactory lilt to his voice wipes away any relief Gwaine might have felt at that knowledge.He’s not wrong, though. Gwaine sees the moment Merlin returns to them, for he never once considers taking his eyes off his friend.Merlin wakes slowly, with a miserable groan and a soft wince about the eyes. If they were still at the inn, Gwaine would have found it adorable. Now, it’s a sign of life. Only when Merlin’s head finally lifts from his chest and those half-lidded eyes land on him does the vice around Gwaine’s heart release its grip.It grips him again the moment Merlin truly regains awareness. At the sight of Gwaine’s bindings, he starts struggling desperately against his own, going so far as to work his teeth between the cords. Gwaine knows they won’t come off that easy. He watched closely as the ropes were tied. Their captor is no novice.“Welcome back,” the man of the hour says as he steps into Merlin’s field of vision for the first time.All attempts at escape come to an abrupt halt. “Who are you?” Merlin asks, cringing back into the tree. “What do you want with us?”“Your friend here, I couldn’t care less about. A Camelot knight might fetch a pretty price, but you? Lad, you’re wanted in every corner of the Five Kingdoms.”Merlin’s breath hitches. He glances quickly over Gwaine’s way, but Gwaine only shakes his head, lips sealed shut. Whoever this man thinks he has, he’s clearly mistaken.“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin says. “You have the wrong person.”“Don’t worry, boy. Your knight will never know any better so long as you comply. Now, stay still…”The man brandishes his knife once more, and Gwaine lets loose every curse that will make it to his tongue, pulling uselessly at his bonds.Merlin scrambles to his feet, backing away from the man, and makes a run for it.“Merlin, no-”As refreshing as it is to see his self-preservation back from the dead, Gwaine knows before it ends that he’s not going to make it.The moment the rope about his ankle pulls taut, Merlin goes careening back into the ground. Unable to catch himself, the side of his head hits first, and hard. He’s visibly dazed from the impact, laid there unmoving as the hunter closes the distance between them.He’s pulled up from the ground by the back of his scarf, like a pup by the scruff of its neck, and flung back to the ground at the base of the same tree again. At least now he’s face-up, though said face comes smeared with dirt and dead bits of leaf.The man drags him upright against the tree, holding him in place by just a single hand flat to his chest. Merlin attempts to push off from the trunk at his back, but to no avail. He’s not all that strong on the best of days, but with his latest wounds and the drug in his system, there’s no hope of fighting off the ruffian. Even less so after he lands a solid punch to Merlin’s jaw.“Don’t touch him!” Gwaine shouts, to no avail. The man throws one more punch as if to spite him, and that dazed look returns to Merlin’s face. The back of Gwaine’s throat is growing sore from his nonstop spillage of obscenities, and his wrists are abraded to the point of pain. But no matter how Gwaine yells at their captor or calls Merlin’s name, his friend’s eyes can’t seem to find him.The hunter uses the distraction to unwind the loop of rope from his belt, wrapping it about Merlin’s throat instead and tying it off at the back of the tree. With Merlin secured there, he takes out the knife again… only to cut through the rope about his ankle, pulling the stake back to him like a fish on a line. Gwaine renews his struggles. Whatever the man’s reason, it can’t be good.“I’ve dealt with my fair share of runners, but you’re one prize I’m not so willing to part with,” he says, patting Merlin’s leg like he would a dog. “It’s nothing personal, lad.”With that said, he positions the stake lengthwise behind Merlin’s right calf and winds another rope tight just above it, bracing his captive’s leg flush to the stake. From there, Gwaine can do nothing but watch as he lines his boot up with the lower half of Merlin’s shin and rams it into him. A brittle crack rends the air, and Merlin screams, back arching off the tree even as the cord around his throat cuts the air off from his lungs. The winds shift eastward, and the smell of rain permeates the air.Gwaine hardly notices. His wrists are chafed, his words a mess of threats and pleas, all directed at their hunter-turned-torturer. The man pays him no heed.“Merlin?” he calls gently, voice thick with the beginnings of tears. He waits for Merlin’s eyes to seek him out again before he speaks. “It’s going to be alright. We’re on our way home, remember? We just have to get out of here first. You only have to hold on a little longer.”Merlin nods frantically, eyes squeezing tightly shut against the pain.“What a lovely sentiment. I feel for you — truly, I do — but I’m afraid I can’t allow that to happen.” The hunter turns his vile sights on Gwaine then, drawing close enough to feel his breath. “Don’t worry yourself, it’s not all bad. You’ll be keeping the use of both your legs. Your sword hand, though…”The man grabs his hands, pulling them apart just long enough to detach his right one from the longer length of rope. Before Gwaine gets the chance to punch his lights out, he’s being pulled to the ground by his freed hand, fragile fingers pinned to the dirt by the heel of a steel-tipped boot. Gwaine groans at the force creaking the delicate bones, but it’s his open, vulnerable palm that worries him.The man smiles down at him consolingly, though Gwaine has some serious doubts about his sincerity. His knife gleams in the sunlight as he swings it down into his hand. Gwaine clenches his eyes tightly shut, bracing for the inevitable pain.The scream that’s ripped from Merlin’s throat brings Gwaine back to himself. His eyes open just in time to see the hunter go flying back into a tree, crumbling at the bottom like a statue into dust.There Merlin stands, propped upright against the tree, entirely free of his bonds. It’s impossible, or it should be. The cords around his leg and neck were knotted far beyond his reach, and the one about his hands was rigged like a sail. It should take the strength of five trained knights to throw a grown man like that.“Merlin?” he whispers as his world falls out from under him.At the sound of Gwaine’s voice, Merlin turns to him. There’s rage in his eyes, and terror — not just for Gwaine, but of him.The one who Gwaine has given his life to looks at him, and the bindings loosen about his wrists. Merlin looks at him, and the breath is stolen from his lungs, for there’s more than just pain in those eyes.He looks at Gwaine, and his eyes are filled with gold.__________________________________________ He had to do it. He couldn’t let Gwaine be hurt. Not when he had the chance to stop it. He’d decided long ago that if it came between keeping his secret and saving others, he would give himself over willingly. But even more so, this is Gwaine. To let him be tortured like that… it’s unthinkable.The whole self-sacrificial ideal became too muddied too soon, what with prophecy and the greater good to contend with — it’s as Kilgharrah said, he helps no one if he’s dead — but with the prophecies already in motion, his role may very well be coming to an end. Why else would he be dying out here in the woods? He’s only sorry to have dragged Gwaine down with him. Perhaps Gwaine isn’t beyond saving, though.The greater good comes first. Of course it does. But the greater good is no longer in his hands — and perhaps never again. It’s Gwaine’s life, now, not Arthur’s. Not Arthur.He can’t watch this little bit of goodness be taken from the world.“Merlin?” Gwaine whispers, as Merlin’s world falls out from under him.This could mark the beginning of a better life, or else he’s to leave this one for the next. Perhaps the Golden Age is set to happen without him. By now, Arthur should be able to run his own kingdom without the aid of his servant. Merlin’s happy to have helped him this far. At least Gwaine will still have a home to return to when this is all over with. He can leave at peace with that knowledge.He swallows thickly before turning to face the burgeoning horror on Gwaine’s face. Horror at him. Horror at what he is.With a look, he drops the bindings from Gwaine’s wrists. He can feel the thrill of the gold in his eyes, the steady thrum through his veins. Gwaine sees him now for the first time, and Merlin already misses the warmth he’s grown so used to in those eyes. But Gwaine’s not one to trust strangers, and traitors even less so.At least it will be merciful. Gwaine’s always been quick to anger — he won’t draw it out. Merlin can appreciate that now more than ever.Before he has a chance to think, let alone speak, the man who did this to them moves in the corner of his eye. Merlin doesn’t have time to react. There’s a cold, sharp sensation like a bite in his leg, and his knees fold like linen.He sways, hitting the ground on his good side as he watches the hunter disappear deeper into the woods. He clutches at his thigh, hot and wet with running blood, but he feels it only distantly.Footsteps approach from behind, a shadow cast upon the tree at his side. A pair of brown leather boots meets his line of sight, and then a figure is kneeling, grasping at his shoulders to pull him back.Everything rushes back to him all at once. He scrambles away from Gwaine, pulling himself up by a low branch. His other hand is poised to strike — not in a fist, but with the palm flat out. He doesn’t want to scare Gwaine, let alone hurt him, but he can’t help his instincts.Recognition flickers in Gwaine’s eyes, and Merlin becomes all too aware of how it looks. He lowers his hand, tries to appear as non-threatening as can be, though he’s certain the damage is done.“Merlin, you- you have magic?”He isn’t sure what he can say. “I’m sorry,” he settles on, because it’s true.“For what?”“I never wanted to hide from you.”“From your own enemy?”“You’re not my enemy, you’re my friend.” Merlin tries to take a step towards him, and cries out at the forgotten pain.“You’re okay, you’re okay…” Gwaine murmurs, gentling Merlin the rest of the way to the ground. “Let me take a look. We can get back to talking when you’re not about to pass out on me, yeah?”“Yeah…” Merlin nods weakly back, trusting his life to Gwaine’s blood-encrusted hands. Seems Gwaine's not as hurt about the magic as he thought. He could kiss his knight in joy if he could feel anything beyond the pain.Gwaine kneels down in the dirt, pulling Merlin’s upper half into a haphazard sprawl across his lap. Merlin lays there pliantly, head heavy in the palm of Gwaine’s hand, shifting only just with every stroke of gentle fingers through his hair. It’s worlds more pleasant than his bed at home. His eyes begin to slip shut, but another hand comes up to cup his cheek, frantically shaking him.“Merlin, you need to stay awake. C’mon, you’re a physician, you know better.”Merlin groans. It comes out a bit more petulant than he intends, but it makes Gwaine smile despite their circumstances. He steadies his breathing as Gwaine begins to check his eyes and pulse. Then, apparently satisfied, Gwaine moves onto his leg.“Well… there is one good thing to come out of this.”“What’s that?” Merlin murmurs distractedly, still fighting just to keep his eyes open.“You’re not going anywhere on that leg. No need to worry about the creature getting to you now, yeah?”“I suppose that’s true.”“Now, for the hard part. We need to get you back to Camelot.”If Gwaine wants him to stay awake, this is one way to go about it. Despite the blood loss, Merlin’s eyes spring wide open. “No!”“You need Gaius-”“Gwaine, I need you right now!” He stops talking just long enough to take a few deep, calming breaths. “Whoever that man is, he knows about my magic. He knows who I am. If anyone finds out, all of Albion is doomed!”Gwaine’s lips twitch uncomfortably, as they might at a joke in poor taste. “What do you mean?”“Gwaine, my magic is the only thing keeping Morgana off the throne. It has been for years. If she finds out what I really am… ”“Well, she won’t have to lift a finger if you don’t get this treated. I’m not letting you die out here, Merlin. You saved my life. Let me save yours.”“You’re forgetting something. I’m the physician here. I can heal my own wounds.”“Not when you’ve just been stabbed.”“Oh… Is that what that was?”“Oh my god.”“I think it’s going to need stitches.”“We don’t have a needle. Or thread. Or water.”“Oh, that’s… that’s too bad.”“Please tell me you can do something with your magic?”“Magic like that’s difficult… Gotta have the healing knowledge to do it, and the right herbs. Wait, maybe there is something…”“What is it?”“Take off your belt.”“Scoundrel! At least buy me dinner first,” Gwaine says, his belt already halfway off. Merlin snatches it up with a half-gasped thanks on his lips.He takes it up between his teeth, and then bites down into it.“Merlin, wait-”But before Gwaine can move to stop him, Merlin is incanting through the leather in his mouth, and the clearing fills with a light brighter than that of the sun.He hears the sound of a muffled scream, and promptly passes out. __________________________________________  When Gwaine is able to see again, Merlin’s wound is smoking as if on fire. His back arches as he screams, the belt dropping from his mouth. It’s followed by a few hitched breaths, nearly a whimper. The smell of burnt flesh lingers in the air.With one last, shuddery exhale, Merlin’s eyes roll back into his head, and he loses consciousness, leaving Gwaine alone to watch after him. Shaking himself from his shock, he checks the stab wound on Merlin’s leg to find that the bleeding has stopped — effectively cauterized.Gwaine doesn’t know too much about field treatment, and he’s not sure what most of the herbs in Merlin’s pouch are actually for, but he knows one thing that can treat a burn: honey. And luckily, he had the foresight to swipe a jar at the marketplace.Well, it was meant more as a treat for on the road, but he’s glad he has it either way.But first things first. He takes advantage of Merlin’s current state of unconsciousness to check on his broken shin, rolling up the leg of his trousers. The swelling’s already started; though, in an ironic turn, the blood loss to the leg will probably help keep it down. But there’s still work to be done. He needs to set it back in place.Just above the site of the fracture, he finds a great, red welt from the rope, and a renewed rage rises in his chest. He places a hand just above the welt, then another below the break, and pushes.The fact that Merlin doesn’t so much as twitch throughout the process worries him more than he’s willing to accept. He finishes securing a makeshift splint, and sits back on his haunches. The day is turning into dusk. He sets up camp for the night, afraid to move Merlin in his delicate state. It’s not as if they’re going to make it back to Camelot tonight, and Merlin will stay warmer by the fire. After all the blood he’s lost, he’ll be needing it.Gwaine doesn’t sleep that night. His entire world is narrowed down to just Merlin.Merlin and his magic. Merlin. Magic. Merlin risking his life to save Gwaine’s. Merlin has magic. Merlin’s lost too much blood. Merlin used magic. So much blood…The night passes in a whirl of Merlin and magic. Even thoughts of home, food, and hearth stay far from his mind.Magic. His Merlin.Merlin wakes with the dawn, and Gwaine couldn’t be more relieved.“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he greets.“G’morning… Oh, I feel like…”“Like?”Merlin shrugs. “Like I’ve been trampled by a horse.”“Try three horses, actually.”“Really?”“No. You were being an idiot and cauterized your own wound. You passed out from the pain.”“Oh.” Merlin prods at the scab forming over his wound, wincing at the small touch. “Effective, though.”“Yeah, speaking of which… You couldn’t have used your own belt?”Gwaine holds up the remains of his already tattered belt. There’s no saving it now.Not that Merlin seems to care. “Have you seen my belt? I’m not putting teeth marks in it.”Unable to contain his curiosity, Gwaine takes a closer look at the belt in question. A series of fine, concentric lines is pressed clean into the leather, a richer brown than he’d expect from its daily wear. He has to admit, it’s a beautiful piece of work. It looks expensive for a servant’s wages. He’s surprised he never noticed before, but it’s not as though he spends all his time staring at that part of Merlin’s body… A little below it, maybe, but he keeps that information to himself.“Fine. But please warn me next time you plan to knock yourself out. I had to set up camp all by myself.”“You lot make me do that on every hunt.”“See? I’m out of practice. I’m sure you could’ve done a much better job.”“I’d prefer not to.”Gwaine laughs, more from relief than amusement. “You should eat.”“And you should sleep.”“Can’t. Not until we make it back to Camelot.”“And we can’t do that until we deal with this bounty hunter.”Gwaine clenches his fists hard enough to hurt. “He won’t live to see another day.”A man like Gwaine is feared by most men — the wiser ones, anyway. Maybe Merlin really is a fool, then, because Gwaine sees nothing but warmth in his eyes.“Can you stand?” Gwaine asks, coming ‘round behind him to place a hand on his back.“Yeah, I- I think so.”Merlin stands, then — only to fall right back to his hands and knees. His breath is coming in short gasps, and he looks to be on the verge of tears again. It’s the state Gwaine would be in, anyway, if he were the one putting his weight on his leg after it was both broken and stabbed.“I’ll take that as a no,” he huffs, helping Merlin back up.Merlin leans heavily into him. “I’m sorry.”“No need. Great thing about being lost in the woods: no shortage of trees! We’ll have you a walking stick in no time.”“At least I already have a splint,” Merlin says with forced cheer as they start their slow ascent through the woods.“Aye, I hope I did a good enough job on it.”“You did. It feels… secure. Thank you.”“No need to thank me.”“Yes, there is. I can’t imagine how I’d have made it through this without you.”“Probably with a lot more injuries.”“I don’t think it counts if I’m too dead to suffer them.”Gwaine angles his body inward so that he can look Merlin in the eyes. He needs Merlin to know that he’s serious when he says this.“I’m glad you didn’t go alone. I’m glad you’re still here, magic or not.”Merlin seems trapped in his gaze for a moment, before he shuts himself away again. “I should have just waited for the next hunt to gather herbs for Gaius.”“You needed a day off.”“And I still didn’t get one. I never do. I should have never come to Camelot. I should have stayed a farmer in Ealdor. I could have pigs right now. Pigs, Gwaine.”“You traded pigs for Arthur? What a waste.”“Not on purpose. Uther pushed the job on me, and I wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse him anything.”Gwaine nearly misses the real meaning of that. There’s more than one reason for someone like Merlin to fear the likes of Uther.“So… magic. You’ve got a few stories to tell.”“Yeah, I’m not exactly looking forward to it.”“What makes you say that?”“Are you joking? I’ve lied to you for as long as I’ve known you. I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of.”“You’ve got to be proud of something.”“…I don’t know if I should be.”“You just saved my life, knowing you could’ve been killed for it. And I doubt it was the only time. How many times have you saved all our lives, with no reward but a death sentence hanging over your head? You’re braver than any knight, and twice as selfless.”“And thrice as arrogant.”“You, arrogant?”“I don’t always know what’s best, Gwaine.”“Don’t be so humble.”“Wh- I have no idea what I’m doing half the time!”“So just like the rest of us. But you try to help.”Merlin huffs dismissively at that, and Gwaine begins to wonder if this is where all that pessimism has been coming from.“What’s it matter if I fail anyway?” Merlin asks, though Gwaine’s pretty sure he’s already decided on an answer.“Because you cared. Your heart’s always been in the right place.”“Gwaine, I- I’m the one who did it.”Gwaine waits patiently for him to continue, fearing any interruption will only dissuade him.“I’m the one who killed the king.”“You killed Uther?”Merlin nods, and Gwaine takes a moment to consider what that must mean.“…So Dragoon was innocent.”“Yes- no- not exactly. I… I am Dragoon. I made him up to save Gwen when she was accused of magic, and I’ve just used the disguise whenever I need it ever since.”Merlin is just full of surprises today. Gwaine mulls it over, and finds he doesn’t really care.“Well, I’m glad you killed him. Good riddance.”“I didn’t do it on purpose!”“Why not?”“I made a deal with Arthur. If I healed Uther, then he would lift the ban on magic once he was king. But Morgana and Agravaine sabotaged us, and Arthur won’t listen to reason.”Gwaine stays silent for a while. He’s not often delicate with his thoughts, nevermind his words, but he feels for Merlin here. He really, really does. He knows what it is to lose hope.He doesn’t know what it’s like to accidentally kill his friend’s father, lose his chance at freedom, and then have to live with the fact for the rest of his life, but he’s pretty sure it would make him feel like shit, too.“You said you saved Gwen’s life. Tell me about that.”Merlin moves to speak, but then stops, surprised at the question.“Uther happened upon Arthur and Gwen while they were out together. Morgana led him there, I’m sure of it… She planted a poultice in Arthur’s chambers to make it look like Gwen had him under an enchantment. Uther would never have believed the truth, so I made up Dragoon and took the blame for it.”“And you’re not proud of saving your friend’s life?”“I don’t do it for a reward, Gwaine.”“No. But I’m beginning to think that all this sneaking around has cost you the thanks you deserve.” And possibly your sense of self. “Don’t tell me you don’t want some sort of recognition for all you’ve done. You know if it was anyone else, it wouldn’t be fair.”“I’m only fixing my own mistakes. It’s my fault Morgana’s the way she is.”“Really? You have her under some sort of mind control?”“What? No, that’s not what I meant!”“Then it’s not your fault what she does. She’s an adult. She has her own reasons. Hell, I can’t blame her for wanting Uther dead, at the very least.”“It’s a bit hard to fault anyone for that, isn’t it?”They both laugh at that. Even if it’s only a little bit, the mood is lighter now, and the air is less stifling around them.“I also have a confession to make.”Merlin turns to him with an amused smile. “Oh no, what did you do this time?”“Arthur… didn’t assign me as your guard.”Merlin’s head tilts to the side, brows pinched in visible confusion, but he lets Gwaine explain.“I saw that you were about to go out on your own, and I knew you’d just send me away if I invited myself. It was the best excuse I could think of.”“But if Arthur didn’t ask you to look after me, then… why are you here?”Gwaine shakes his head, fondly exasperated. “To protect you. You were captured not long ago, if you’ll recall. Well, don’t do that, but-”“But-, Merlin interjects, “you didn’t have to do all this.”“No. I wanted to. I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you walking into danger alone… And now, I’ve gone and made things worse.”“Gwaine, I don’t care that you lied to me! It was hardly a lie, anyway. Arthur did want me to take a guard. I’m just glad it was you. You do know I’d be in that thing’s stomach right now if it wasn’t for you, right? And… you’re not the one who made things worse. That was me. I… I used my magic back at the tavern so you’d win that last game… and maybe the few before that?”Gwaine stares at him, silent, for a full five seconds, before he bursts into laughter. “You dirty scoundrel!”“We needed the money!”“So they all say.”“Well, I’m sorry for how this all turned out.”“Don’t apologize to me. I should be thanking you.”Merlin smiles at that, relief radiating off of him.“Apologize to the poor fools you cheated out of their earnings.”“You might’ve won anyway if I hadn’t done it. I shouldn’t have risked it.”“Merlin, men of their ilk still would’ve chased us out of there no matter how I won. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”“Pretty? Is that why you’re always staring?”“Yes, Merlin, you have the face of an angel and I can’t take my eyes off you,” he says, like it’s a lie. “So, where are we off to next? Got some more pockets to pick?”“I didn’t pick any pockets!”“You might as well have.”“You know I can make you lose those games just as easily, right?”“Fair point. It was very brave and handsome of you to help me back there.”“Is that a flirtation? Next time, it had better come with flowers.” He hunches in on himself a little, his free arm wrapped over his stomach. “Or dinner.”“Always knew you’d be the ‘buy me dinner’ type.” But Gwaine’s own stomach is protesting the lack of food, and he knows that Merlin is right. He needs to hunt. Only problem is, he doesn’t have a crossbow, he’s too hurt to walk without alerting the prey animals, and Merlin… is Merlin.“Any of these plants look edible to you?” he tries.“How about we just try to find the next town. We have more than enough to buy our way through.”“Yeah, thanks to my lucky charm.” He bumps his good shoulder into Merlin’s as they walk, and Merlin actually dips his head and blushes at that. And, well, maybe Gwaine really wasn’t lying about Merlin having a pretty little head.They go quiet again, but happily so. In the meantime, they manage to find a stick strong enough to serve as a crutch. With Gwaine’s support on Merlin’s other side, they’re able to move from there on at a much faster pace. It isn’t long before they come upon the river cutting east from west. I they take the risk to quench their thirst, and the shoreline guides them well enough that Gwaine all but forgets that they’re lost.The only sound is of their feet disturbing the foliage underfoot, and of the river running at their side. It’s unexpectedly peaceful, but Gwaine can’t keep himself from breaking the silence.“So, what do you use your magic for? Besides gambling, of course.”“I only use it when I have to.”“Well, that’s just no fun.”“It’s not supposed to be. Gaius taught me to use it responsibly.”“Lesson didn’t stick, then?”“We needed the money.”“I should’ve come up with something better than gambling,” he grumbles.Merlin sighs, softening a little. “It’s not a toy. I don’t get to use it however I please.”“…Yes, you do. It’s yours, isn’t it?”“I suppose so.”“Come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never done anything fun with it.”That seems to do the trick. Merlin bites his lip against a giggle. Clearly, he’s thought of something.“I knew it. Go on, spill.”Merlin’s look turns mischievous. “You really want an example?”“Yes!”A thin, leafy branch suddenly snaps back and thwaps Gwaine in the face.“Bleh!” He spits out a few leaves, pawing at his tongue.Merlin smirks, holding his laughter back by a thread. “There you go.”Gwaine tries to be offended, but Merlin’s good mood is intoxicating. “Thanks for that,” he says, shaking his head.It’s as good a time to stop as any. He lays Merlin back against a thick trunk, plopping himself down beside him. The river’s provided them with drink and ease of mind. What they really need now is food. Perhaps they can find a fish or two to spear.“You really only have Gaius to share all this with?” Gwaine asks, distracting them both from their growing hunger. Honey and water can only help so much.“For the most part,” Merlin says, still panting. It’s a lot of work for someone who’s lost so much blood. “I wanted to tell you-”“And I understand why you never did. Believe me, I would’ve done the same in your place. But you can’t keep living like that.”“Like what?”“You know. Alone with it all.”“It’s fine, Gwaine. It’s nothing new. I’ve been alone all my life.”“So have I.”Merlin’s breath stops short. It’s an old fear of his, Gwaine knows — the thought of him roaming from tavern to tavern until he finally picks a fight he can’t come back from. Never hearing from him again, never knowing what happened, with no grave to mourn at. Their first meeting would’ve been their last, had it not been for Merlin’s knowledge of the healing arts. He’s seen firsthand how bad it can be.“Being alone is dangerous, Merlin. This detour is proof enough. You don’t want anyone else to get hurt, and that’s a noble thing, but our odds would be doubled if you just let me help you.”Merlin sits back against the tree, considering, but that thin, obstinate press of his lips only hardens. “You have friends amongst the knights now, people who can understand you. You have a life in Camelot. You’d be throwing that all away if you got involved.”“The knights don’t understand me, not like you do.”“That’s not the point! You’re only human. No one should be without a place to call home.”Or a person, Gwaine thinks. As much as Gwaine has come to love Camelot, it’s not a home without its people, and particularly the one withering away in front of him.“I’d be lost without you.”“No. People love you. How could they not?”“And what makes you so different? What makes you think that you and no one else has to be alone?”Merlin smiles at him, but it’s far from comforting. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. My magic is more powerful than you know. It’s safer for me to deal with these kinds of threats alone. You’d only be putting yourself in danger.”“That’s mighty kind of you. Only, that’s not it,” Gwaine presses, leaning in closer to study him anew. “You’ve asked for my protection more than once. You’d be- you wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t with you when that thing attacked. And I know I can’t stop you from running off and being a hero, but you know I can protect us both well enough. I know about your magic now. So why do you think you have to be alone, even when I offer to help?”“Because I don’t want you to die for me!” Merlin snaps. At long last, his shield is splintered. “One day, you’re going to have to let me go, and I can’t trust you to do that!”Die for him? Of everyone Gwaine knows in Camelot, there’s only one person Merlin could be talking about. One person who was always there for him, one person whose loss threw Merlin into a pit of despair he still hasn’t crawled back out from.“…Lancelot knew, didn’t he?”Merlin turns away, unable to look him in the eye any longer. The silence is louder than it was on the Isle of the Blessed that night.“Merlin?”“The Cailleach… She wanted a sacrifice to heal the tear between the worlds. Arthur was going to give his own life, but I… I knocked him out so I could take his place. It was when I offered myself to the Cailleach that he did it.”“Oh, Merlin…”“I shouldn’t have told him what I planned to do. Arthur wasn’t the one in danger, I was. And Lancelot died for it.”“I’m sorry. He was a dear friend.”“He was everything to me. He accepted my magic from the start. He was just so good. He’ll never know just how much I loved him.”“Mate, when you say you loved him…”Merlin smiles dryly. “I don’t know. I think so. I never told him that, of course. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But I lost it anyway. I thought we’d have more time…”“Hey, it’s alright. Wherever he is, he knows.”“Do you really think so?”“How could anyone doubt it? I saw how you were with him, I suspected for a while. What I wouldn’t give for you to look at me like that…”“Wait, what?”Gwaine’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Shit. “Nothing. I mean, we all want someone who, you know… cares for us.”“Right. Yeah.”“What I’m saying is, you need someone to share the load, and maybe to point you in the right direction once in a while. Every king has his advisers, and you make a point that Arthur shouldn’t rule alone. If you’re making all these big decisions, isn’t it a little unfair that he gets a whole council and you don’t? Where would he be without yours and Gwen’s counsel?”Merlin scoffs, though it’s much more lighthearted than before. “Probably running his kingdom into the ground.”“Exactly. I know your secret now, so you might as well accept the help. You never hesitate to ask for my protection. I hope that you value my thoughts as well. Or do you just want me for my body?”Merlin laughs, then his eyes go gold again, and Gwaine’s hair is blowing into his face. Gwaine brushes it back, laughing alongside him.“If it was all about your body,” Merlin teases, “I’d have taken Percival with me instead.”“Pfft, please! I’m bigger where it counts.”Merlin’s eyes trail down to where it counts, and then back up to his face. “Where, your ego? I hadn’t noticed.”Gwaine sighs, content. “We should set up camp soon. It’s getting dark.”“Yeah.”They let the conversation fade so they can piece their meager camp together. Merlin lights the fire this time, with only a whispered forbærnen, and isn’t that a handy trick?Gwaine feeds the damp wood he’s collected into the fire and hopes the berries he found for them aren’t poisonous. Merlin looks delighted at the sight of them, though, which Gwaine takes as confirmation. He even manages to skewer a couple of fish from the nearby stream to roast over the fire. They go to sleep with full stomachs for the first time since they left the inn.Well, almost. Gwaine can’t seem to get to sleep, no matter his exhausted state. The sound of Merlin tossing and turning on the other side of the fire tells him that neither of them is having any luck.Gwaine huffs out a breath, watching it steam in the flickering light. He has half a mind to huddle for warmth — in no world is Merlin warm enough on a night like this, fire or no. He’d have already done so if he was more certain that the offer wouldn’t be rejected.Merlin is the first to give in. Biting at his bottom lip, he looks over at Gwaine, a question in his eyes he’s too afraid to voice. Catching his cue, Gwaine pushes himself up from his spot by the fire and lays out beside him, wrapping an arm loosely around his shoulders. He curls into Gwaine, shivering despite the warmth of the fire.Anger rises sharp in Gwaine’s heart. Why did he have to take that damned hit from the Dorocha? Why him?He knows why, of course. Merlin is Merlin. Of course he’d save the life of his thankless brat of a king. Sweet, selfless Merlin and his self-sacrifice, a servant with more wounds to bear than their ever so brave leader. He could cry from the injustice of it. Hasn’t Merlin been through enough? Why this, too?“I don’t want it to take me again,” Merlin whispers through clattering teeth, and the fear in his voice shatters Gwaine like fragile glass.“It won’t.”“We’re getting closer to it. I can feel it.”“I defeated it once before, I’ll do it again if I must.”“Gwaine, if it does come back… don’t follow me. Go back to Camelot. Tell Gaius what happened, and- and take care of him for me, please.”Gwaine’s arm tightens around him. “I’m not leaving you behind.”“You can’t fight it again, not in this state.”
Forever caring, thoughtful, kind.
“I don’t care.”“It’s no use dying for a lost cause!”“You’re not lost yet. Don’t ask me to live without you. I couldn’t bear it.”“But you will, some day. Even if it’s not today, I’m… I don’t think I’m going to be around for very long. It’s not what the fates have planned for me. I’ve made my peace with that.”
No reward for all his kind deeds.
“Then I’ll go with you there, too.”“You don’t mean that.”
No recognition.
Gwaine won’t be complicit in that.“Merlin, you were right. I am afraid. But it’s not the beast that scares me. It’s the thought of anything happening to you. If I can’t save you… I don’t think I’d survive that.”“You would. You’re stronger than you think.”“It’s nothing to do with strength. I’m not leaving you. And you’re not leaving me.”“Then I’m sorry.”“For what?”“I’ve killed you.”“No,” he laughs, bittersweet. “I’d have died either way. You gave me something to live for.”“But you have so much more than just me. You have friends, a home, a purpose. You have a life, Gwaine! You can’t give it up for me.”“That’s not my life. It’s not why I stay.”“I don’t understand.”Oh, but Gwaine needs him to.“Merlin, I…”He feels it first as a heat building behind his eyes, crawling up his throat and choking him. His breath hitches in his chest, teetering on a sob. It comes like a waterfall thereafter, hot tears running down his cheeks and soaking into Merlin’s hair.Alarmed, Merlin scrambles up Gwaine’s chest to cup his face in his hands, running his fingers through Gwaine’s hair in a desperate attempt at comfort.“Gwaine?” he asks, voice shaking worse than Gwaine’s.Gwaine takes a breath, and lets it go.“I love you. For so long, I’ve loved you.”“You- love me?”“More than you could know. All the jokes, all the flirts — I meant every word of it. I’ve always wanted you. I think about you all the time. What it would be like… to hold you like this, in a proper bed. To see you every morning, the way I got to see you at that inn. To have you, as close as I can. You’re my reason for everything. I won’t stand by and watch you die. My life is yours. I’ve always been yours.”And oh, Merlin is in tears now, too. He didn’t mean to do that.“Gwaine, I want that, too. All of it.”He couldn’t be hearing this right. “What?”“I tried not to think about it. That life was never meant for me… But I wanted. I want. And I pushed you away because of it. But it didn’t save you. All I did was waste what little time we had. I should’ve just told you. About my feelings, about my magic.”“Merlin, no. You could’ve been killed.”“But we could have been this all along,” he laments, joining their fingers together over Gwaine’s heart.“Then I share the blame. I never told a soul how I felt until you.”“No, I- gods, I just wish we had more time.”“We will. I’m not going to let you die.”“You can’t promise that.”“I know. But I can’t accept anything else.”“I’ll… try not to die, then.” Merlin smiles a little, and Gwaine sees his heart is truly lifted.“I appreciate that. Now, let’s get some sleep. We’ve a big day ahead of us.”“Mmm… Goodnight, Gwaine.”“Goodnight, love,” Gwaine says, and he feels Merlin smile against his throat, breath and lips soft on his skin.They sleep soundly that night. __________________________________________  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are in the morning?” Gwaine asks, stamping out the fire. The morning sun promises them a mild day, and they need any wins they can get.Merlin smiles, wide and uninhibited. “You’re going to tell me whether I like it or not, aren’t you?”That’s the correct answer. “You look like an angel. No- a god.”“I wouldn’t have declared my love for you last night if I knew it would turn you into such a sap,” Merlin says, emphasizing the last word with a tap to Gwaine’s chest.“Well, you’re stuck with me forever now, so you’d better get used to it.”“You should’ve seen your face last night. You are one pretty crier, you know that?”Gwaine blushes a deepening red. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls…”“Just the ones that pique my fancy.”“And here I thought we had something special.”“Don’t look so hurt, Gwaine, I’m only teasing!”“Oh no, don’t tell me I’m ugly when I cry,” Gwaine bemoans, dragging Merlin into his arms by the waist.“Oh, that part wasn’t a lie. You’re gorgeous.”“You think so?”“Especially when you cry. And when you laugh. Times when you’re more yourself. It’s nice, to get to see that. To be trusted with it.”“Most would see more of me as something to avoid.”“I don’t.”Merlin’s eyes travel down to his lips, and Gwaine does the same. There’s want in his eyes, and Gwaine welcomes it. And, for once, Merlin seems to have caught on.“I am about to make so many people jealous.”Merlin’s hands are back in Gwaine’s hair, then, holding him just far enough to look him over one last time before leaning in to kiss him.Gwaine’s eyes fall shut at the feel of those soft lips on his, the fingers trailing down to the back of his neck, the rush of his heart. It’s tender, sweet, exquisite.It’s Merlin kissing him. Gwaine kisses back, harder.It lasts only a few seconds, more chaste than Gwaine is used to from others.Merlin takes a calming breath, looking into Gwaine’s eyes as if taken by surprise, and then Gwaine is grabbing Merlin’s face in his hands and pulling him back in again. Merlin kisses him back fiercely, fingers gripping his hair as if to lock their lips and throw away the key.Gods, just having him here is enough to put Gwaine in a chokehold. He can think of nothing else, the rest of the world forgotten. He grabs hold of Merlin’s hips and backs him against a tree, drunk on the hard press of Merlin’s body into his. Merlin is responsive, evidently. Gwaine’s hips roll into his in turn, seeking his touch anywhere he can get it.Perhaps it would have gone further if they’d picked a sturdier tree. A soft scraping sound diverts their attention, and then a small brown bundle comes plummeting down from the upper branches. Merlin’s hand flies out, and the object comes to a halt midair.A little nest and eggs. How quaint.Gwaine watches on in wonder as the eggs slowly retreat back into the nest, Merlin’s eyes an unchanging gold. He places the nest right back on the branch, and then exhales in relief, bending at the waist to catch his breath.“You are magnificent,” Gwaine says, like he just can’t help it.“For nearly smashing a bunch of eggs? Why, were you hungry or something?”“You really don’t see it, do you?”“See what?”“How special you are.”“That’s not always a good thing.”“It is.”“Gwaine, I…”Something twitches in Merlin’s ear, some bug or other buzzing by.“What is it?” Gwaine asks, sensing his unease.“It’s… nothing, I think. I’m not…”Another bug, singing loud in his ear. He tries to swat it off of him, but his hand meets thin air. The sound carries on, as loud as it did before. “Do you hear that?” he asks, feet following the strange creature.Gwaine’s face falls in the span of a breath. Merlin wants to take him back into his arms and ask him what’s wrong, but his feet pull him forward again, away from the safety of the camp. A new sound joins the rest, one of water trickling softly down onto rock.Merlin’s heart sinks into his stomach. He takes another step.
“No, no, no. Please, no.”
“Merlin, listen to me,” Gwaine says, grabbing him by the shoulders and stepping backwards as they go. “You’re going to be fine, alright? You’re safe with me.” He tries to smile, but there’s a fear in his eyes that he can’t quite hide. Not from Merlin. Not anymore.“Gwaine, don’t. Please. You’ll die.”“I promise you, Merlin, whatever happens, I won’t let it kill me. I’ll run if I must. But just give me the chance to save the man I love. It’s all I ask of you. Please.”Merlin nods tightly, the tears in his eyes finally welling over. “I love you, too. Don’t ever forget that.”Gwaine smiles, though his eyes are watering as much as Merlin’s now. “Harder to believe than to forget.”Despite it all, Merlin smiles, too, soft and flighty. “I’m glad I have you, Gwaine.”“You’ll always have me.”They both understand, on a primal level. This may prove to be their final moments, together or apart. All that they have left is to live it.Gwaine sweeps Merlin into one last kiss, tears dripping like a spring rain. It’s not the end of them. It can’t be. They’ve only just found what they’ve been looking for. It can’t be over before it’s begun.It’s something to fight for. Gwaine draws his sword and falls silently back to Merlin’s side in a protective stance.It’s not long before a faint groaning sound disrupts the quiet. Merlin would have stumbled at the pain of it had the curse allowed. He stays firm to his path.The splint on his leg creaks precariously, and snaps.He can hear the halves of his bone grinding together. He cries out, unable to brace for the pain, and steps forward again.Gwaine drops his sword back to his waist at the sound Merlin makes, searching for the source of his hurt. It becomes apparent when the splint falls to the forest floor. He quickly sheaths his sword, dragging Merlin’s arm around his own shoulders to take the weight off of his leg.“We’re going to our deaths,” Merlin warns him through clenched teeth.It’s true. Gwaine is walking Merlin to his doom, to their doom, if only to alleviate the pain for a time.Merlin wishes he had the heart to send Gwaine away again. He wishes he would tell Gwaine to leave him, to send word to Gaius and Arthur and Gwen. To tell his mother.Merlin is a child again: he’s scared and he’s in pain and he doesn’t want to die alone at the mercy of some bloodthirsty creature. He wants whatever comfort Gwaine can give him. He wants to bask in his devotion. He wants to be admired, adored. Loved and important.He just wants to feel like everything is going to be okay.But it’s not. It’s not, and he’s so, so sorry.His breaths thin like watered wine, ‘til the heaviest sound to pass his lips is a whimper. He can’t take his body back, no matter how he struggles against its thrall. Gwaine follows his lead, tries to pull him back, but it doesn’t work. His arm wraps tighter around Merlin, unwilling to let him go just yet.He doesn’t want Gwaine to go. If these are to be his last moments…He looks at Gwaine again, studies his face well enough to paint it from memory. It’s wet with tears and sweat, stress lines deepening at the edges of his eyes and mouth, muscles straining against a force so much greater than any man. It’s all for him, and he wants it. For the first time in his life, he feels like he’s a part of something. Whatever it is, it’s with Gwaine.The feeling in Merlin’s leg sharpens before it fades. This time, he welcomes the loss. __________________________________________  The night, and the morning, gods, it was all so sweet. He’d all but forgotten the damned creature in his utter delight.It’s all caught Gwaine entirely off guard.He takes up his sword back at Merlin’s flank, protecting his unconscious body as he’s strung along, as if by some invisible rope. It’s odd: Gwaine’s made his goodbyes, and now he’s left with only a shell of the man he loves. It’s as if he’s already left for the next world.The thought only spurs Gwaine on. This can’t be the end. This can’t be the last he’ll ever see of his Merlin. He’ll fight the beast a hundred times if it means he gets to wake up next to him again, to see him smile, soft and sleepy and sweet and serene. Safe. They’ll get to do that a hundred times, too.For Merlin, he’s prepared to do whatever it takes. He grips his sword tighter and stalks forward, grabbing a hold of Merlin’s wrist while he still has the chance.It was only going to be a matter of time before they stumbled across the beast. He’s not surprised to find its subtle figure in the scattered trees, eyes reflecting back into him. He’d have mistaken them for two wet leaves if he hadn’t already known it was there.No, the creature is no surprise. But he didn’t expect it to have company.The man spits a few words in the language of the Old Religion, and the creature groans like a felled tree, head bowed in submission.Merlin’s knees fold under him, as though his strings have been cut, but Gwaine is quick to catch his fall, lowering him gently to the ground. His eyes flutter beneath his lids, but he doesn’t wake, sinking limply back into Gwaine’s arms.Gwaine growls, threateningly low, at the man who’s been hunting them all this time. “What did you do to him?”“You’ll know soon enough. Come awake, boy.”As if on command, Merlin shifts in Gwaine’s lap, twitching and groaning like he’s returning from a dead sleep. Gwaine supposes that’s not far from the truth.Merlin’s eyes blink slowly open, taking in Gwaine’s face hovering over his with a slight smile. He begins to push himself up, eyes settling ahead of him at his upright position.And then he scrambles right back into Gwaine, seeing the creature in its full glory for the first time — not to mention the bounty hunter at its side. He takes in a few calming breaths, gripping Gwaine’s hand on his shoulder.“Frightening, isn’t she?” the man says, making him jump again. “The creature before you is the nesse fealle, as the Druids call it. It means the singing trap.”“I can see why,” Merlin replies dryly, rubbing at his ears.“Then you can also see that I’ve harnessed its will to my own.” He pats the flank of the creature, but it remains docile, unmoving but for the breath in its lungs.Merlin sits himself upright, so Gwaine settles in at his side to check his pulse while the hunter gloats over them. It’s steady enough, but he rubs some life back into his hands along the way. Merlin hardly seems to notice.“But why go through all the trouble?” he asks, a shrewd look in his eye. “Why not just kill me outright?”“Oh, you’re far more valuable to me alive. You see, the Lady Morgana assigned me two targets. One, a mere serving boy who’s meddled in her plans once too often. The other, a great and powerful sorcerer, known to the Druids only as Emrys. Imagine my surprise to find that the two are one and the same.”Merlin rolls his eyes. “You must have been thrilled.”“To say the least. The fealle was only meant to lure Emrys in, and she did a splendid job of it,” he goes on. “I could feel the power emanating from you like the heat of the sun.”“What are you then, a bounty hunter or a secret admirer?”Gwaine snorts. He’s feeling a bit out of his depth, not being a sorcerer and all, but Merlin must be feeling much better if he’s already back to bandying words with their captor.“Perhaps a bit of both. It’s quite the deception, all that power in the hands of a servant… It was only when your precious knight started screaming your other name that I realized. Thank you for that, Sir Gwaine.”Merlin grows suddenly taut against him. “Don’t taunt him. It’s not his fault.”“You speak bravely, but I’m afraid it won’t save either of you. Morgana warned me that you would be a hard one to catch. I won’t let you escape again. Sālnes.”Gwaine’s sword is back in hand before the man’s finished speaking. He’s not taking Merlin anywhere, no matter what spellwork he throws Gwaine’s way.A strangled sound comes from Gwaine’s side, and he nearly snaps his own neck in his haste to console Merlin. But Merlin’s fear is not directed at any visible threat. He clutches at his own throat as though stricken, eyes blown wide in distress. The enchantment wasn’t meant for Gwaine after all. And, from the looks of it, Merlin might not have much time.The enemy advances then, a dagger readied in either hand. Gwaine pushes off the ground to shield Merlin, catching the edge of a blade on his leather vambrace. He pushes off his opponent with his own sword, though it hardly leaves a scratch in the man’s armor.Gwaine rushes forward, his sword braced in a two-hand hold if only to steady them. The fiend parries Gwaine’s attack with ease, landing a hit of his own to Gwaine’s unprotected shoulder — a small slash, perhaps, but enough to slow him down.He staggers back a bit, but shoves off the hard ground to meet the daggers with his sword. One of the twin blades goes flying out of sight at the force, but its owner is unperturbed, thrusting a sharp elbow into the wound on Gwaine’s flank.The breath leaves Gwaine’s lungs without so much as a kiss goodbye. He comes violently to a halt, stunned and senseless from the blunt pain in his side. The hunter takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around Gwaine’s throat, shoving the end of his last remaining knife under his enemy’s chin. The man has every advantage over Gwaine — all but one.Gwaine’s been in this exact fight, be it battle or brawl, a thousand times before this. And, plus, he’s got a lot more to fight for than some worthless gold.Injured, tired, and with little time to spare, Gwaine does the only rational thing he can think to do.He bites.“Ah! Your filthy guard dog bloody bit me!”“Aye,” Gwaine snarls, spitting the blood out of his mouth. “And yours is just an angel.”The beast looms high above their heads, docile as a lamb and doing very little to prove Gwaine’s point. But the only win he needs is the one he’s got. He’s been forcefully released — expelled, really — from the hold on his throat so that the hunter can shake the pain from his hand at a safe distance away. He glares at Gwaine all the while with undisguised disgust.Gwaine smiles red at him. “Sick of me yet?”Before he has a chance to answer, the hunter is cast in a great, towering shadow. The very sight of it roots his feet to the ground, a cold shudder rattling his bones.Gwaine, on the other hand, is already helping Merlin upright. They watch together as the man goes unnaturally rigid, still as a deer at the twang of a bow. Against all sense, he turns back around to face the creature. He takes a step towards it, and again, and again, until he’s mere steps from its puckered snout.“No!” the man pleads, his voice wavering in pitch and in terror. “No! I command you-”In the blink of an eye, the creature lunges forward and eats him. It just… eats him.It’s two of the messiest bites Gwaine has ever seen. He dabs a speck of the man’s blood from Merlin’s face, wiping it off in the grass by his feet, and prepares his own attack on the creature before it can do the same to them.“Gwaine, it’s alright,” Merlin says, holding him back with a hand to his good shoulder. “She means us no harm.”Sure enough, the creature makes no move to attack as it did at their introduction. Sated by the man already in its stomach, no doubt.“How can you be so sure?”“Because I’m the one who freed her from his spell.”“Well… that explains why she took him as a snack, then.”Still wary of the beast, Gwaine keeps two eyes on it, even as he helps Merlin back to his feet. He nearly charges it again when it takes a few calm, muted steps their way, until Merlin shoves himself between them, holding out either hand as if to placate them both.Perhaps he’s right to. The creature seems different now — a deep intelligence behind its eyes, no longer glinted by another’s intent.Instead of luring Merlin forward, it comes to him, bowing its head gracefully to him like a subject to their king. It fits its head into the palm of Merlin’s hand and releases a deep, groaning purr.Awkwardly, Merlin pets its bloodied snout, as if afraid to offend. He breaks through his unease, though, and straight into a massive grin. “It was never a sacred place. It was her all along, awakening the life in her wake.”“Merlin, what?” Gwaine laughs, confused and relieved and all the more grateful for it when Merlin is the cause of it.“In the clearing!” he all but shouts. “All around us! How you can just feel the beating heart of every insect, of every plant!”“Is this something to do with your…” Gwaine trails off.“You don’t… feel it?” He sounds genuinely grieved that Gwaine can’t feel it, too.Gwaine only shakes his head in resigned wonderment. It’s a feeling he’s growing used to.Perhaps sensing the change in Merlin, the creature makes one last low clicking noise and turns tail, disappearing back to its home in the woods.“I think you made a friend,” Gwaine says, unsure of what else there is to say now.“I tend to attract the type. Speaking of, I may need to call in a favor. I don’t think we’re making it back to Camelot without some help…”“And you’re going to find that in the middle of the woods?”“I didn’t say he was human.”…This might actually turn out to be a good day after all.“Does this mean I get to see you use magic again?” He sounds like an overeager child, but the prospect outweighs the indignity, if there’s any to be had.Merlin appears to mull it over. “Of a kind.” With that, he rolls his shoulders back, tilts his chin up to the sky, and takes in a deep breath. “O drakon! E male so ftengometta tesd' hup' anankes'!”“…Please tell me you summoned us a unicorn.”Merlin winces. “…Not quite.” ________________________________________ The next few days are just as eventful — though luckily to a less life-threatening extent. It turns out that watching Gwaine nearly jump out of his skin at Kilgharrah’s every movement is a rather delightful pastime. He knows Kilgharrah enjoyed himself, too. Frankly, the dragon didn’t do much to hide his pleasure.He didn’t do much to hide his displeasure, either, but that was hardly unusual. At least he and Gwaine were both now healed of their wounds.Unfortunately, with nothing to show for their impromptu quest, and with them being them, their inexplicable absence was assumed — rather harshly, in his opinion — to be the result of an ungodly, death-defying bender. He’s pretty sure Gaius is to blame for this one.He and Gwaine decided early on that if they’re to be punished for a trip to the tavern, then they might as well make themselves guilty of the deed. Taking one last breath of fresh air, Merlin throws open the door of The Rising Sun and steps inside, eyes already searching out his soon-to-be drinking companion.Gwaine’s not hard to find. He’s already back to tossing dice in the center of the room, probably gambling away all of their hard-earned gold from The Sitting Duck.Merlin watches the game intently. There’s a good deal more coin on the other side of the table. He did not get them kicked out of that tavern just to lose it all in a day. With a flash of his eyes, he rolls Gwaine’s dice to a double six.The crowd splits to cheer and bemoan his name. Gwaine turns to gesture at a spectating barmaid for another round of mead, pausing as his eyes land on Merlin near the entrance.“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” he says, taking off with his earnings. “While I’m still ahead!”Merlin skirts his way around the perimeter of the room while Gwaine does the same, until they come close enough for Merlin to taste the mead on Gwaine’s breath.“You made it!” he exclaims, looking Merlin over from head to toe, though there aren’t any injuries to explain it this time around.“I told you I would,” Merlin says, a bit petulant.“But Arthur-”“Has the whole castle at his disposal.”“Well, in that case, he won’t mind if I steal you away for a few days?”“Days? I promised a night, not a week!”Gwaine levels his wateriest-eyed look at Merlin.“Alright, fine. But you’d better be breaking me out of the stocks when we’re done.”“Deal,” he says, dropping a thank you and a few coins into the hand of a passing maid as he makes for the door.“Wait, where are we going?”“This way,” Gwaine helpfully supplies.Merlin rolls his eyes, ever-fond of his knight, and follows.“This way,” as it turns out, is the way to Gwaine’s chambers. He holds open the door for Merlin with a theatrical bow, and Merlin is just tying together a quick jab about Gwaine’s usual manners when he stops short in his tracks.At the dining table, two plates and a pair of matching goblets are set out among a rich smattering of candles. A bottle of red wine sits in the center of it all, promising them a night to be remembered.Merlin turns back around to voice his bewilderment, only for Gwaine to procure a colorful bouquet from behind his back, offering it out to his deeply confused guest.“What are these for?” Merlin asks, smiling as he takes it.“You told me the next time I wanted to flirt with you, I should get you flowers.”Merlin stares at him, mouth agape, and then collects himself. “Did you buy me dinner, too, then?”“No, no. I made that myself.”“Wow. I must really be starving for that to sound so good.”“Hey!”“I’m joking, I’m joking. Erm, thank you. For everything.”“You know I’d do anything for you,” Gwaine says, and leans in to give him a shy peck on the cheek.Merlin doesn’t doubt him for a second.