Stargazer
Elyan was not a stupid man, no matter what Guinevere said during their (numerous) fights as children, or what she might still imply sometimes.
In fact, he had learned very early how to watch. He had watched how the knights trained every day. He had watched Leon’s father teach his son how to be a nobleman, serve his kingdom, be proud; and when he’d started teaching him how to spare, he had allowed him to imitate them with a wooden stick. Later, when he had been too old to follow his mother at work but too young to help his father in the forge, he had watched him forge swords, remembering his every move and imitating him with mud and stones.
Later, he had watched how Guinevere was chosen to be Lady Morgana’s maid, how his father smiled, how proud his mother was, and he realized he had to leave if he wanted to ever prove what he was worth.
He learned his craft that way, from one master to another, moving to the next village, town, lonely forge in the woods when he didn’t think he could learn more, watching.
So it took him only seconds, when he met Gwaine, to understand what kind of a man he was. He saw his sincerity, his honesty, his fidelity. He saw the life he lead, the patterns roads and taverns had drawn on his face with, somewhere in the depth of his eyes, the remnants of an old home he could dream after if he couldn’t return. He saw the gaping difference between them, one wandering because he hadn’t allowed himself any other path, the other because he had forgotten there were other ways to life.
Learning Gwaine (his face his stand his smile) made him learn things about himself, too. He understood that if he couldn’t help coming back toward him watch him brush against him talk to him fight him it was not because he admired him. It was much deeper. He didn’t want to become Gwaine, not even become like Gwaine, he just wanted to be the one who saw every details, the only one to ever see him, talk to him, the only one he could even think of. He also was the one, during this endless night of witches, immortals and oaths, to see that Gwaine didn’t come back.
That night he understood he had never known fear, not for real. He had feared his father, he had feared for his life, but it was never that. Never had he felt every muscles contract, the burn of his stomach reaching his lungs his throat his eyes, his hands shaking, his mind blank (that was what came with Gwaine being dead, blankness, because that couldn’t be). He could have checked. Take a few steps, his sword drawn, turn left and see by himself Gwaine lying. But if it was the case, if he really was lying lifeless under the castle then he wanted to lie that little bit more. Refuse that little bit more. If he saw it, if he saw him then there would be no coming back.
But Gwaine appeared, with his shining smile and heroic hair and he could breathe again, and he could think again (“Thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthanwwwkyou”) and if he could he would have run to him, touch him just to make sure it was, he was real, but he didn’t hold that right.
Because he had kept on watching, and he had seen how Merlin’s smile broadened when they talked. Seen Gwaine’s hand slipping on his shoulder the small of his back his wrist when he passed by him. He was drawn to see their eyes shining, there long silences, their bodies bending toward each other when they were holding guard, fear like a cloud when Merlin didn’t come back and his back straighter, his head higher when finally he appeared at the entrance of the cave. Seen Gwaine standing, his eyes straight his chest square his shoulders drawn back, beside against his front of a captivated Merlin.
He was standing on a balcony, high in some tower, watching the court. He was high enough to see above the walls, the still green fields and the forest. But he wasn’t high enough not to recognize the red neckerchief, the long hair, the wide arm’s movements, the deep laugh reaching him.
Gwaine was in Elyan’s dreams every night, yet he was not stupid enough not to see that he only belonged to Merlin