Let me stand by you (the honour is mine)
Title: Let me stand by you (the honour is mine) 3/8
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, Gwaine/Merlin (one-sided)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4787/ 31k
Beta: Thanks to aeris444
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the recognisable characters. They all belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I only borrowed them.
Summary: As the King is travelling with his men, their group suffer an attack and Merlin is wounded. He has two options: to die or to reveal his magic. His choice to live leads to his banishment. The decision isn’t an easy one for Arthur and as he takes in the void left by the absence his manservant, he’s more than a little lost and conflicted. Yet he has no time to dwell on his feelings: bandits are roaming the Kindgdom and they could all be part of a plan to bring Camelot down.
Chapter 1 2
Chapter 3
Snow was falling heavily, swirling through the strong wind. Hopefully, the gusts didn't reach the inside of Merlin’s shelter. He wasn't cold, thanks to a fire, Gwaine's coat and a tad of magic. The warmth removed some of the gloomy atmosphere but wasn’t enough to make Merlin forget his home was now a cave.
A dragon was swirling in the flames under Merlin's gaze. After years of busy days taking care of Arthur and running errands for Gaius, his sudden inactivity had been hard to get used to. His spell book had provided a small distraction for some time but without anything or anyone to practice on, its studying rapidly became tedious. Now he didn’t have the willpower to go hunting, even though he had recovered. He wasn’t even hungry anymore. All he was left with were pointless tricks like the galloping horse that had replaced the dragon in the fire.
He had too much time to think. Banished, he felt a loneliness he had never experienced before. Even in the darkest times in Ealdor, when he felt useless and misunderstood, he'd had his mother and Will. There was no one in the forest, not even a lost traveller who could have rested with him for a while. Gwaine's was the only face he'd seen in weeks and his visits, though regular, weren't enough to satisfy the warlock's needs for company. Silence was becoming oppressing. The walls of his cave seemed to be closing in on him.
Yet even more than company, it was having a purpose that Merlin missed the most. In Camelot, he'd felt useful. Who would have thought he’d miss polishing Arthur’s armour? It was more than just having something to do, though. It was the little nod and soft smile the King gave him to show his gratitude. It was seeing the tension in Arthur’s shoulders relax when he found the right words to soothe him. It was being at his friend’s side to protect him. It was the trust Arthur had in him. A cold, strong hand crushed his chest at that thought. He'd better not go there. He was miserable enough.
"She's beautiful."
Merlin startled. He looked up to discover Gwaine watching the fire. A quick glance to the flames taught the warlock that the horse had changed into a view of Camelot without him noticing.
"You miss her," the knight noted as he sat down beside his friend.
"It's difficult not to."
Gwaine didn't answer. Instead, he took a meat pie from his bag that he divided into two parts, one of which he held out to Merlin.
"Gwaine! I told you to stop that! What if you get caught?"
"You have no idea what a smile and a few carefully-chosen words can do to a woman. Don't worry, the cook won't say a thing."
Merlin rolled his eyes but didn't protest any further, knowing it was vain. He forced himself to bite in the pie even though he wasn’t hungry.
As they ate, Gwaine gave the latest news from Camelot, carefully avoiding any mention of Arthur, for which Merlin was nearly as frustrated as he was grateful. Yet he was touched by Gwaine's kindness. Having such a friend in the darkest moment of his life was invaluable.
"Thanks for the food," he said once they were finished.
"It’s the least I can do."
They fell in a companionable silence for a while before the knight asked: "When are you planning on leaving?"
"I-I'm not sure."
"I thought you wanted to go as soon as your wound was healed. What are you waiting for?"
"Tired of me already?"
Gwaine sighed. "Of course not. But I'm worried about you. If it's food you need, or anything, I can help."
"I know. Thanks"
"Merlin, what is it? I know you hate being here. I can see you getting more and more miserable every time I come. What's keeping you here?"
The warlock looked down at his hands neatly folded in his lap. Gwaine wouldn't understand but he deserved the truth.
"Arthur."
Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin noticed the knight's bulging eyes.
"But he banished you!"
"At least I'm still alive."
"Don't tell me you're grateful for that."
"I am."
"But -"
"He should have killed me, according to the law."
"He didn't even listen to you! You were his friend. You saved him countless times and your only reward is exile!"
"I know!" Merlin roared, raising his voice for the first time. "And it hurts! It hurts to know he's too prejudiced and cares too little to let me explain why I lied and what I've done for him. "
The warlock closed his eyes and sighed. He took a moment to regain his temper before adding: "Don't think I've forgiven him."
"Then why don't you forget him and leave?"
"I can't abandon him. It's hard enough being here. I can't just leave the kingdom."
"Merlin…"
"What happened doesn't matter. He's the Once and Future King, destined to be the greatest King Albion will ever know. My duty is to protect him. And one day… I hope he'll realise he was wrong about me."
Gwaine remained silent, staring at the fire that had regained his normal aspect. The passion that had animated his being a few moments before had left him, replaced by an emptiness Merlin had never seen in him. It made the warlock slightly uncomfortable.
"Anyway, I must accompany the King on an expedition tomorrow," Gwaine finally said. Merlin frowned at the abrupt change of subject but let him go on. "I'm not entirely sure when we'll come back. So you won't see me for a while. Speaking of which…"
He trailed off as he rummaged in his bag and produced a small package. "I got you some cheese and oat for when I'm away."
"Gwaine! You-"
"Shouldn't have. I know. Do you take it or do I have to keep it for myself?"
"That would be so hard for you."
The knight laughed. Then he put the bag in his friend's hands. "Please. Take it."
Merlin nodded knowing that protesting wouldn't make any difference. "What sort of expedition is that?" he enquired after thanking Gwaine.
"The King wants to show his concern about the increase of bandits in the realm. We'll chase some of them down."
The warlock didn't like the sound of it. Routine stuff, it might seem, but things could so easily go wrong. A plan was slowly forming in his head. Gwaine was right; he couldn’t stay here and dwell on his thoughts. His sorrow and his worry for Arthur would swallow him.
"When do you leave?" he asked, trying not to sound too interested.
"Tomorrow at dawn."
"And where will you be heading?"
"West. A group was seen there yesterday. The King wants to follow their track. Why?"
Merlin dropped his gaze. "Oh, nothing. I'm just curious."
But Gwaine was not so easily convinced. He stared at his friend who shifted awkwardly.
"Don't tell me you're planning on following us."
"Why, me? I don't see why I'd want to do that. And it's awfully cold, right? I'm much better here. Really, I - "Merlin stopped babbling when he notice Gwaine's cold gaze."Right," he admitted. "The idea did cross my mind."
"You'll be killed if someone sees you."
"They'll have to catch me first."
"Then they'll think you're planning something and they'll hunt you down."
Merlin waved it off with a shrug. Gwaine sighed.
"Think about it. Do you really want to risk your life for someone who banished you?"
"Told you. Destiny and all."
"Merlin…"
“You don’t understand. Being here when I know something could happen to him, it’s… It’s unbearable. He hurt me and he… He probably hates me but I just can’t… I can’t abandon him. I need to make sure he’s alright. Because if… If he dies and I haven’t done everything I can to save him then I… I couldn’t forgive myself.”
The warlock sniffed and wiped away the tears on his cheeks.
“So you’re going to hide in the wood and watch over him, even though he thinks you’re a monster.”
Gwaine’s tone was soft and his words weren’t meant as an insult but they cut deep into Merlin’s heart. He couldn’t find the voice to answer so he just nodded slowly. The knight put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. It was nice to finally have someone to hug him as he broke down. But Merlin had cried too much since his trial. He was tired of it. He needed to move on. So he sat up, breaking the hug, and dried his tears.
The silence stretched for a while. Gwaine’s gaze was lost in the fire again, the sadness back in his eyes. It was so unusual, Merlin felt uncomfortable again. He wanted to help him but wasn’t sure what to say. The knight wouldn’t open up easily so he had to try and guess what was wrong. He'd noticed the way Gwaine had carefully avoided Arthur's name, his anger when he talked about the King. He wondered if obeying and fighting for someone he’d lost all respect for could be part of the problem.
"You-You don't seem very fond of Arthur," the warlock finally tried.
"I used to like him. He disappointed me."
"You mean because he banished me?"
"Yeah… I thought he wasn’t like his father. I was wrong.”
“You know he’s better than Uther. On many levels. He’s just and-“
“You think what he’s done to you is just?” Gwaine snapped.
“Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
The knight sighed and his tone softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-“
“It’s alright. But we’ve talked enough about me. Arthur’s disappointed you. I… I can understand but why are you still in Camelot fighting for him?”
“Well, with all these bandits the knights need men, don’t they?”
Gwaine’s bright smile gave him away. Merlin had never realised how much of a façade it was before that moment, when he saw it contrast so much with the sadness in the knights eyes.
“Is that why you’re so unhappy? Because you don’t want to fight for him but you don’t want to let the knights down?”
“I’m happy. What are you saying?”
“Gwaine, please… You listened to me, I can listen to you.”
The knight looked down and rubbed his neck. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Merlin…”
“Please.”
Gwaine closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped slightly. “I-I wanted to stay to take care of you. And then… I thought, when you'd recover I… I'd leave with you.”
“Oh…” The warlock’s heart clenched. “I'm sorry. I didn't think... I-"
"It's alright.”
“But-“
“Merlin, I was a fool. It’s so obvious, I should have seen.”
“Seen what?”
“You love him.”
Merlin froze. How could Gwaine notice what himself had only just accepted? His last secret. It felt odd to hear these words. For a moment, he feared the knight thought there was something wrong with him. Then he realised that his friend had hoped more than simply leaving with him.
“Oh Gwaine, I-“
“Don’t. It's alright. You can't command these things."
His voice didn’t shake but his eyes were dull as he stared at the fire. Merlin had never seen him so vulnerable. He felt guilty, wondering if he'd ever done something that gave him hope. Or why he hadn't understood sooner. But how could he have imagined that someone like the knight could fall for him?
"Don't look at me like that," Gwaine said. "I'll survive."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"But after everything you've done…"
The knight sighed. He came to sit closer to Merlin and put a hand on his shoulder.
"What I've done, I've done it for you. I don't seek any reward."
Merlin dropped his gaze. It felt strange to know he was the cause of a friend's pain, even unwillingly. And there was nothing he could do to make it better.
"Can we… Can we still be friends?"
"Of course."
They fell into a slightly awkward silence that made Merlin worry something had been lost between them, despite Gwaine's goodwill.
"So what are you going to do, then?" the warlock asked after a while.
"I'm not sure yet. I'll leave soon, I guess. Or when spring comes."
"Does that mean I won't see you again?"
"Nah, I'll come and say hello once in a while."
Merlin smiled softly. Gwaine smiled back but it didn't reach his eyes. It wasn’t long before the knight stood up. "I've got to go."
Merlin watched him pick up his bag and whispered: "Thank you. For everything."
Gwaine smiled his sad smile and walked away. "You know," he said as he stopped outside the cave without looking at his friend. "He might have disappointed me but… I really hope one day he'll find out what a wonderful person you are."
And with that, Gwaine left.
***
The cold air bit at Arthur's exposed skin on his face. It pierced through his layers of clothes, chilling him to the bone. For the thousandth time of the day, he cursed winter. Behind him, his knights were grim too. They'd been following the track for a day now. The men were getting impatient. They'd all been on other missions to hunt the bandits recently. They were tired of the cold, frustrated by the chase of an invisible enemy. Even though he didn’t doubt their loyalty, Arthur had better find those bandits soon. That was another reason why he hated winter so much: men grew more difficult to handle.
Then he heard a noise ahead. A single wave of his hand was all his morose group needed to turn into a group of soldiers on the look-out. Slowly and without a sound, they came closer to their enemies to assess the situation.
A group of men were eating and talking loudly around a campfire while four sentinels guarded the place. From their plain clothes, the abundance of weapons they carried and the heap of bags behind them, it was clear they were the bandits Arthur was looking for. After a rough count, he concluded that their enemies outnumbered his men slightly yet not enough to cause serious problems. He launched the attack with a few further signs of the hand.
It had been a while since the King's last proper training as the cold had prevented any outdoor drill. He felt slightly rusty when his blade collided with another for the first time. Then the motions engraved in his muscles by years of practice came back easily. In a few blows, he got an opening and his sword slid into it. The man fell on his knees. Instinctively, Arthur looked at the fight around him. There was no time to worry for his knights; a quick glance was all he needed to make sure they weren’t in real trouble. No, he was concerned by someone else. Then he realised Merlin wasn’t there and Paul hadn’t come along because Arthur feared he would be a burden. For a heartbeat, a wave of emptiness threatened to swallow him. He kept it at bay. He needed to stay focused.
The number of their enemies decreased slowly but steadily. Arthur, who had gotten rid of a man with beak-nose and a beard covering half of his chest, was now struggling with small but muscular thief. Suddenly, a loud crack just behind the King made the bandit jump. It was all Arthur needed to dig his sword in his gut. The man fell back when he took it out. The King spun quickly on his heels to where the sound had come from. A thief was sprawled on the ground, knocked out by the heavy branch that had presumably landed on his head. Judging by his proximity and the way he faced Arthur, he'd been just about to kill the King when he'd fallen. Arthur thanked his luck. Looking up, he eyed Percival painfully repelling two opponents at once a few yards away. He ran to him.
Together, they overcame the two bandits quickly before fighting back to back. Then there was another crack. Arthur risked a quick glance in the direction of the noise. Gwaine was looking frantically around. A bandit lay at his feet, collapsed under a branch. It struck Arthur as odd but he quickly put the thought at the back of his mind to concentrate on the fight. After all, he'd already had such luck before.
In the end, Arthur and his men were victorious with only a few minor wounds to report. As the few bandits who had fled hadn't had time to collect their goods, the knights picked them up and decided on a trip to the nearby village where it had probably been stolen.
The forest echoed with laughter that night around the knights’ camp. Some of the men were reliving the fight, exaggerating some details, cutting off some others and generally boasting about their success. The rest of the pack spoke animatedly and somewhat crudely about the women they met in the village. All of them were enjoying the much awaited warmth radiating from the fire. Arthur listened but didn't take part in the banter. If he valued his closeness to his men, he didn't felt it was his place as the King to share such stories. Instead he surveyed the camp and his eyes were caught by a figure sitting a few feet away from the group.
Arthur didn’t need to watch closely to know it was Gwaine. The knight had been cold and distant since Merlin’s trial. First it had been only with Arthur. He had this harsh, reproachful stare whenever they met. Gone were the smiles and the light-hearted jokes. In the meetings, he would stand as far as possible from his King and not utter a word. Then his attitude with the other knights had changed too. Arthur had chosen him for this expedition to give him a last chance but he knew there wasn’t much hope. He should have banished him when he’d noticed Gwaine regular trips to the forest. Knowing that Merlin couldn't have gone far in his state health, the purpose of the knight’s getaways wasn’t a mystery. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even though he would never admit it, he didn’t have the heart to punish what was presumably the only friend Merlin had left. He was becoming dangerously soft but he just couldn’t. Instead he kept an eye on him, making sure he wasn’t trying to spread his feelings to the other knights, looking for any sign that he was plotting against him with Merlin. Yet if he couldn’t banish him, he would have to dismiss him. He needed his men to trust him. He needed to be sure he could count on them. Too many lives were at stake. It saddened him to lose Gwaine. He was a good knight and a better man. But Arthur didn’t have a choice. If Gwaine couldn't accept his decision to banish Merlin, he would have to go.
***
The knights' second encounter with bandits occurred two days later. As the first time, they closed in on their enemies while they were resting. The settings were less favourable to the knights, though. The thieves had set camp in a ravine, a place they could defend more easily in the eventuality of an attack. Arthur hesitated. The probability of severe wounds and losses among his men was much higher than it had been the last time. On the other hand, the bandits were outnumbered and some of them seemed heavily drunk. After their recent and easy victory, his men were hungry for battle. And neutralising the bandits was the whole point of their expedition.
The scout Arthur had sent around the camp came back reporting he’d found a way to go down in the ravine on the other side. The King sent half of his men with him to attack the bandits on two fronts and cut their retreat. Once he judged they had enough time to get in position, he launched the assault.
Soon it was clear that knights had the upper-hand. A few thieves were too drunk to even hold a sword. The others were overcome easily. Just when Arthur was beginning to relax, the young knight running past him to get to his next opponent fell to the ground. The King thought he had stumbled on a root but then he saw the bolt in his neck. His stomach sunk. He hadn't seen any crossbows before the attack. Where did that shot come from? He looked around frantically for any sign of a bowman and froze when he noticed the bolt flying right to him, coming from above. For half a heartbeat, he thought his time had come. Then something incredible happened: the bolt abruptly deviated from its way. It avoided him and hit a thief right in the chest. Arthur was so bewildered that he almost dropped his sword.
Sorcery! He didn’t see any other explanation. There was no wind. The bolt had been aiming straight at him. But why would a sorcerer be there if he wasn't helping the bandits? Another bolt whistling right next to him roused him from his thought. Then he heard a loud crack, again. Above him, on the top of the slope, a branch gave way under a bowman and he fell unconscious on the ground. Questions ran though Arthur’s mind but again he had to put them away to focus on the fight. This time, however, he was resolute to reflect on the events later.
Recovering from his bewilderment, he shouted a warning against the bowmen. Immediately, a few knights left the battle to take care of the shooters. They found two others in the trees. Once they were down the battle was won easily and Elric, the young knight killed by the bowman, was their only loss.
There was laughter again around the campfire that night although a bit softer than after their last victory. They had given Elric a burial and grieved for him. But death was part of a knight’s life. They never got used to it but, after some time, they accepted it. Before each battle they knew they ran the risk of never coming home or never see a friend again. But those who died fighting did so with honour. Arthur was the most affected by Elric’s death as he was every time he lost a man. He knew the knights had chosen to risk their lives to protect the kingdom but he couldn’t help thinking he led them to their death and failed them somehow. And Elric was so young…
Thinking about him brought Arthur back to the fight and the mystery of that bolt. He replayed the scene again and again in his mind, the deadly projectile aiming to him and changing direction in mid-air. In the absence of wind, the bolt couldn't have deviated in such a manner without any unnatural forces. What he didn't understand was why a sorcerer would help him. Was it a way to get closer to the King and ask favours in return? But then why choose Arthur, in whose kingdom magic was banned?
As he still hadn't found any answer when the knights went to sleep, he took the first watch. He remembered their previous battle two days before and the way the branches had collapsed and saved Gwaine and him. It hardly seemed a coincidence now. So that meant a sorcerer was following them. Arthur didn’t like that one bit. The man might not have shown any threatening behaviour but who knew what a sorcerer was capable of? What was that twisted mind of his plotting against them? This help was simply too suspicious. In all his life, Arthur had never met a self-less sorcerer. He needed to bring that man down before he asked for an intolerable contribution in return of his assistance if not worse.
A rumpling sound made Arthur jump and interrupted his thinking. A hand on his sword, he surveyed the camp. It was only Gwaine walking away to make his water. The King relaxed. His thoughts went back to the sorcerer. What were the chances of catching him if he sent someone looking around the camp? Poor, he guessed. He had to be smarter than him, find a way to trap him. He could pretend to leave an injured knight behind and see if the man was still keen to help. But what if the sorcerer was only waiting to be alone with a knight to cast a spell on him? And even if he hid men around, the man was so skilled at using branches to knock people out. How were they supposed to catch him in the middle of a forest?
He hadn't come much closer to a plan when he realised Gwaine was taking way too long. For a moment, Arthur contemplated waking Percival to go after him. Then it struck him. On their first fight, one of the branches had saved Gwaine. Gwaine was the only person that had kept contact with Merlin. Gwaine had sneaked out of the camp. Could it mean…? No, he couldn’t believe it. Why would Merlin do that? Why would he help him now that he was banished? Why would he save him if all these years he’d been lying and plotting against him? Or was he wrong about that?
The thought he’d had when Gwaine had been saved by the branch in their first fight came back in his mind. He’d been very lucky before. Could it mean that Merlin had being doing that regularly? Using his magic to save him? No. No, it wasn’t possible. Sorcerers were evil. Merlin had lied too long for his motives to be honest. Arthur needed to stop being so soft. He only came up with these explanations because they hurt less than the truth. He couldn’t allow himself to get so sentimental. Sorcerers were dangerous and one of them was following him. He needed to be on his guard.
Gwaine returned just before the change of watch but Arthur pretended not to notice. He woke Percival and instructed him to be even more vigilant than usual and to wake him at the slightest suspicious event. Then he went to sleep.
The temperatures had further dropped that night. As the King rummaged through his bag to find an extra-blanket, he realised that his new servant being polite, obedient, organised and generally speaking the opposite of Merlin, also had its downsides. He wasn’t used to sleeping outside. He had packed warm cloth for the King but the extra-blanket Arthur needed was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, he lay down and covered himself with what he had. It had been acceptable, if not comfortable, until that night but Arthur was now shivering. Between that and his rummaging thoughts about Merlin, sleep eluded him.
He must have fallen asleep in the end, for he woke up to the sound of the knights shifting around him. Pleasantly warm, he allowed himself to lie a little longer. In the sweet haze of drowsiness, his mind wandered back to Camelot, to his warm chambers and soft bed. Slowly, though, the nagging feeling that something was off crawled into his mind. Searching for its origin finished to wake him up. He needed Elyan cursing the cold to understand. Arthur had been freezing too that night. He sat up, his mind in a haze. Why was he so warm now? Then he realised he had one more blanket than when he’d gone to sleep.
He needed a few moments to recognise it but when he did, his heart missed a beat. It was Merlin’s. The one he'd seen a countless times when his servant had bravely followed him anywhere without a thought about the danger. The sorcerer Arthur was so afraid of had given him his blanket because he was cold. A wave of melancholy hit the King and his squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. And he’d thought he’d never met a self-less sorcerer. That was so Merlin. How many times had Arthur woken up to find Merlin's jacket on him to keep him warm while his servant's teeth were clattering? What would he have discovered if he had accepted to listen to him? Or did he know the King so well he was he playing with him again? If that was all part of a plan to shatter him, Arthur feared it was a very efficient one.
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, Gwaine/Merlin (one-sided)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4787/ 31k
Beta: Thanks to aeris444
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the recognisable characters. They all belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I only borrowed them.
Summary: As the King is travelling with his men, their group suffer an attack and Merlin is wounded. He has two options: to die or to reveal his magic. His choice to live leads to his banishment. The decision isn’t an easy one for Arthur and as he takes in the void left by the absence his manservant, he’s more than a little lost and conflicted. Yet he has no time to dwell on his feelings: bandits are roaming the Kindgdom and they could all be part of a plan to bring Camelot down.
Chapter 1 2
Chapter 3
Snow was falling heavily, swirling through the strong wind. Hopefully, the gusts didn't reach the inside of Merlin’s shelter. He wasn't cold, thanks to a fire, Gwaine's coat and a tad of magic. The warmth removed some of the gloomy atmosphere but wasn’t enough to make Merlin forget his home was now a cave.
A dragon was swirling in the flames under Merlin's gaze. After years of busy days taking care of Arthur and running errands for Gaius, his sudden inactivity had been hard to get used to. His spell book had provided a small distraction for some time but without anything or anyone to practice on, its studying rapidly became tedious. Now he didn’t have the willpower to go hunting, even though he had recovered. He wasn’t even hungry anymore. All he was left with were pointless tricks like the galloping horse that had replaced the dragon in the fire.
He had too much time to think. Banished, he felt a loneliness he had never experienced before. Even in the darkest times in Ealdor, when he felt useless and misunderstood, he'd had his mother and Will. There was no one in the forest, not even a lost traveller who could have rested with him for a while. Gwaine's was the only face he'd seen in weeks and his visits, though regular, weren't enough to satisfy the warlock's needs for company. Silence was becoming oppressing. The walls of his cave seemed to be closing in on him.
Yet even more than company, it was having a purpose that Merlin missed the most. In Camelot, he'd felt useful. Who would have thought he’d miss polishing Arthur’s armour? It was more than just having something to do, though. It was the little nod and soft smile the King gave him to show his gratitude. It was seeing the tension in Arthur’s shoulders relax when he found the right words to soothe him. It was being at his friend’s side to protect him. It was the trust Arthur had in him. A cold, strong hand crushed his chest at that thought. He'd better not go there. He was miserable enough.
"She's beautiful."
Merlin startled. He looked up to discover Gwaine watching the fire. A quick glance to the flames taught the warlock that the horse had changed into a view of Camelot without him noticing.
"You miss her," the knight noted as he sat down beside his friend.
"It's difficult not to."
Gwaine didn't answer. Instead, he took a meat pie from his bag that he divided into two parts, one of which he held out to Merlin.
"Gwaine! I told you to stop that! What if you get caught?"
"You have no idea what a smile and a few carefully-chosen words can do to a woman. Don't worry, the cook won't say a thing."
Merlin rolled his eyes but didn't protest any further, knowing it was vain. He forced himself to bite in the pie even though he wasn’t hungry.
As they ate, Gwaine gave the latest news from Camelot, carefully avoiding any mention of Arthur, for which Merlin was nearly as frustrated as he was grateful. Yet he was touched by Gwaine's kindness. Having such a friend in the darkest moment of his life was invaluable.
"Thanks for the food," he said once they were finished.
"It’s the least I can do."
They fell in a companionable silence for a while before the knight asked: "When are you planning on leaving?"
"I-I'm not sure."
"I thought you wanted to go as soon as your wound was healed. What are you waiting for?"
"Tired of me already?"
Gwaine sighed. "Of course not. But I'm worried about you. If it's food you need, or anything, I can help."
"I know. Thanks"
"Merlin, what is it? I know you hate being here. I can see you getting more and more miserable every time I come. What's keeping you here?"
The warlock looked down at his hands neatly folded in his lap. Gwaine wouldn't understand but he deserved the truth.
"Arthur."
Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin noticed the knight's bulging eyes.
"But he banished you!"
"At least I'm still alive."
"Don't tell me you're grateful for that."
"I am."
"But -"
"He should have killed me, according to the law."
"He didn't even listen to you! You were his friend. You saved him countless times and your only reward is exile!"
"I know!" Merlin roared, raising his voice for the first time. "And it hurts! It hurts to know he's too prejudiced and cares too little to let me explain why I lied and what I've done for him. "
The warlock closed his eyes and sighed. He took a moment to regain his temper before adding: "Don't think I've forgiven him."
"Then why don't you forget him and leave?"
"I can't abandon him. It's hard enough being here. I can't just leave the kingdom."
"Merlin…"
"What happened doesn't matter. He's the Once and Future King, destined to be the greatest King Albion will ever know. My duty is to protect him. And one day… I hope he'll realise he was wrong about me."
Gwaine remained silent, staring at the fire that had regained his normal aspect. The passion that had animated his being a few moments before had left him, replaced by an emptiness Merlin had never seen in him. It made the warlock slightly uncomfortable.
"Anyway, I must accompany the King on an expedition tomorrow," Gwaine finally said. Merlin frowned at the abrupt change of subject but let him go on. "I'm not entirely sure when we'll come back. So you won't see me for a while. Speaking of which…"
He trailed off as he rummaged in his bag and produced a small package. "I got you some cheese and oat for when I'm away."
"Gwaine! You-"
"Shouldn't have. I know. Do you take it or do I have to keep it for myself?"
"That would be so hard for you."
The knight laughed. Then he put the bag in his friend's hands. "Please. Take it."
Merlin nodded knowing that protesting wouldn't make any difference. "What sort of expedition is that?" he enquired after thanking Gwaine.
"The King wants to show his concern about the increase of bandits in the realm. We'll chase some of them down."
The warlock didn't like the sound of it. Routine stuff, it might seem, but things could so easily go wrong. A plan was slowly forming in his head. Gwaine was right; he couldn’t stay here and dwell on his thoughts. His sorrow and his worry for Arthur would swallow him.
"When do you leave?" he asked, trying not to sound too interested.
"Tomorrow at dawn."
"And where will you be heading?"
"West. A group was seen there yesterday. The King wants to follow their track. Why?"
Merlin dropped his gaze. "Oh, nothing. I'm just curious."
But Gwaine was not so easily convinced. He stared at his friend who shifted awkwardly.
"Don't tell me you're planning on following us."
"Why, me? I don't see why I'd want to do that. And it's awfully cold, right? I'm much better here. Really, I - "Merlin stopped babbling when he notice Gwaine's cold gaze."Right," he admitted. "The idea did cross my mind."
"You'll be killed if someone sees you."
"They'll have to catch me first."
"Then they'll think you're planning something and they'll hunt you down."
Merlin waved it off with a shrug. Gwaine sighed.
"Think about it. Do you really want to risk your life for someone who banished you?"
"Told you. Destiny and all."
"Merlin…"
“You don’t understand. Being here when I know something could happen to him, it’s… It’s unbearable. He hurt me and he… He probably hates me but I just can’t… I can’t abandon him. I need to make sure he’s alright. Because if… If he dies and I haven’t done everything I can to save him then I… I couldn’t forgive myself.”
The warlock sniffed and wiped away the tears on his cheeks.
“So you’re going to hide in the wood and watch over him, even though he thinks you’re a monster.”
Gwaine’s tone was soft and his words weren’t meant as an insult but they cut deep into Merlin’s heart. He couldn’t find the voice to answer so he just nodded slowly. The knight put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. It was nice to finally have someone to hug him as he broke down. But Merlin had cried too much since his trial. He was tired of it. He needed to move on. So he sat up, breaking the hug, and dried his tears.
The silence stretched for a while. Gwaine’s gaze was lost in the fire again, the sadness back in his eyes. It was so unusual, Merlin felt uncomfortable again. He wanted to help him but wasn’t sure what to say. The knight wouldn’t open up easily so he had to try and guess what was wrong. He'd noticed the way Gwaine had carefully avoided Arthur's name, his anger when he talked about the King. He wondered if obeying and fighting for someone he’d lost all respect for could be part of the problem.
"You-You don't seem very fond of Arthur," the warlock finally tried.
"I used to like him. He disappointed me."
"You mean because he banished me?"
"Yeah… I thought he wasn’t like his father. I was wrong.”
“You know he’s better than Uther. On many levels. He’s just and-“
“You think what he’s done to you is just?” Gwaine snapped.
“Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
The knight sighed and his tone softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-“
“It’s alright. But we’ve talked enough about me. Arthur’s disappointed you. I… I can understand but why are you still in Camelot fighting for him?”
“Well, with all these bandits the knights need men, don’t they?”
Gwaine’s bright smile gave him away. Merlin had never realised how much of a façade it was before that moment, when he saw it contrast so much with the sadness in the knights eyes.
“Is that why you’re so unhappy? Because you don’t want to fight for him but you don’t want to let the knights down?”
“I’m happy. What are you saying?”
“Gwaine, please… You listened to me, I can listen to you.”
The knight looked down and rubbed his neck. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Merlin…”
“Please.”
Gwaine closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped slightly. “I-I wanted to stay to take care of you. And then… I thought, when you'd recover I… I'd leave with you.”
“Oh…” The warlock’s heart clenched. “I'm sorry. I didn't think... I-"
"It's alright.”
“But-“
“Merlin, I was a fool. It’s so obvious, I should have seen.”
“Seen what?”
“You love him.”
Merlin froze. How could Gwaine notice what himself had only just accepted? His last secret. It felt odd to hear these words. For a moment, he feared the knight thought there was something wrong with him. Then he realised that his friend had hoped more than simply leaving with him.
“Oh Gwaine, I-“
“Don’t. It's alright. You can't command these things."
His voice didn’t shake but his eyes were dull as he stared at the fire. Merlin had never seen him so vulnerable. He felt guilty, wondering if he'd ever done something that gave him hope. Or why he hadn't understood sooner. But how could he have imagined that someone like the knight could fall for him?
"Don't look at me like that," Gwaine said. "I'll survive."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"But after everything you've done…"
The knight sighed. He came to sit closer to Merlin and put a hand on his shoulder.
"What I've done, I've done it for you. I don't seek any reward."
Merlin dropped his gaze. It felt strange to know he was the cause of a friend's pain, even unwillingly. And there was nothing he could do to make it better.
"Can we… Can we still be friends?"
"Of course."
They fell into a slightly awkward silence that made Merlin worry something had been lost between them, despite Gwaine's goodwill.
"So what are you going to do, then?" the warlock asked after a while.
"I'm not sure yet. I'll leave soon, I guess. Or when spring comes."
"Does that mean I won't see you again?"
"Nah, I'll come and say hello once in a while."
Merlin smiled softly. Gwaine smiled back but it didn't reach his eyes. It wasn’t long before the knight stood up. "I've got to go."
Merlin watched him pick up his bag and whispered: "Thank you. For everything."
Gwaine smiled his sad smile and walked away. "You know," he said as he stopped outside the cave without looking at his friend. "He might have disappointed me but… I really hope one day he'll find out what a wonderful person you are."
And with that, Gwaine left.
***
The cold air bit at Arthur's exposed skin on his face. It pierced through his layers of clothes, chilling him to the bone. For the thousandth time of the day, he cursed winter. Behind him, his knights were grim too. They'd been following the track for a day now. The men were getting impatient. They'd all been on other missions to hunt the bandits recently. They were tired of the cold, frustrated by the chase of an invisible enemy. Even though he didn’t doubt their loyalty, Arthur had better find those bandits soon. That was another reason why he hated winter so much: men grew more difficult to handle.
Then he heard a noise ahead. A single wave of his hand was all his morose group needed to turn into a group of soldiers on the look-out. Slowly and without a sound, they came closer to their enemies to assess the situation.
A group of men were eating and talking loudly around a campfire while four sentinels guarded the place. From their plain clothes, the abundance of weapons they carried and the heap of bags behind them, it was clear they were the bandits Arthur was looking for. After a rough count, he concluded that their enemies outnumbered his men slightly yet not enough to cause serious problems. He launched the attack with a few further signs of the hand.
It had been a while since the King's last proper training as the cold had prevented any outdoor drill. He felt slightly rusty when his blade collided with another for the first time. Then the motions engraved in his muscles by years of practice came back easily. In a few blows, he got an opening and his sword slid into it. The man fell on his knees. Instinctively, Arthur looked at the fight around him. There was no time to worry for his knights; a quick glance was all he needed to make sure they weren’t in real trouble. No, he was concerned by someone else. Then he realised Merlin wasn’t there and Paul hadn’t come along because Arthur feared he would be a burden. For a heartbeat, a wave of emptiness threatened to swallow him. He kept it at bay. He needed to stay focused.
The number of their enemies decreased slowly but steadily. Arthur, who had gotten rid of a man with beak-nose and a beard covering half of his chest, was now struggling with small but muscular thief. Suddenly, a loud crack just behind the King made the bandit jump. It was all Arthur needed to dig his sword in his gut. The man fell back when he took it out. The King spun quickly on his heels to where the sound had come from. A thief was sprawled on the ground, knocked out by the heavy branch that had presumably landed on his head. Judging by his proximity and the way he faced Arthur, he'd been just about to kill the King when he'd fallen. Arthur thanked his luck. Looking up, he eyed Percival painfully repelling two opponents at once a few yards away. He ran to him.
Together, they overcame the two bandits quickly before fighting back to back. Then there was another crack. Arthur risked a quick glance in the direction of the noise. Gwaine was looking frantically around. A bandit lay at his feet, collapsed under a branch. It struck Arthur as odd but he quickly put the thought at the back of his mind to concentrate on the fight. After all, he'd already had such luck before.
In the end, Arthur and his men were victorious with only a few minor wounds to report. As the few bandits who had fled hadn't had time to collect their goods, the knights picked them up and decided on a trip to the nearby village where it had probably been stolen.
The forest echoed with laughter that night around the knights’ camp. Some of the men were reliving the fight, exaggerating some details, cutting off some others and generally boasting about their success. The rest of the pack spoke animatedly and somewhat crudely about the women they met in the village. All of them were enjoying the much awaited warmth radiating from the fire. Arthur listened but didn't take part in the banter. If he valued his closeness to his men, he didn't felt it was his place as the King to share such stories. Instead he surveyed the camp and his eyes were caught by a figure sitting a few feet away from the group.
Arthur didn’t need to watch closely to know it was Gwaine. The knight had been cold and distant since Merlin’s trial. First it had been only with Arthur. He had this harsh, reproachful stare whenever they met. Gone were the smiles and the light-hearted jokes. In the meetings, he would stand as far as possible from his King and not utter a word. Then his attitude with the other knights had changed too. Arthur had chosen him for this expedition to give him a last chance but he knew there wasn’t much hope. He should have banished him when he’d noticed Gwaine regular trips to the forest. Knowing that Merlin couldn't have gone far in his state health, the purpose of the knight’s getaways wasn’t a mystery. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even though he would never admit it, he didn’t have the heart to punish what was presumably the only friend Merlin had left. He was becoming dangerously soft but he just couldn’t. Instead he kept an eye on him, making sure he wasn’t trying to spread his feelings to the other knights, looking for any sign that he was plotting against him with Merlin. Yet if he couldn’t banish him, he would have to dismiss him. He needed his men to trust him. He needed to be sure he could count on them. Too many lives were at stake. It saddened him to lose Gwaine. He was a good knight and a better man. But Arthur didn’t have a choice. If Gwaine couldn't accept his decision to banish Merlin, he would have to go.
***
The knights' second encounter with bandits occurred two days later. As the first time, they closed in on their enemies while they were resting. The settings were less favourable to the knights, though. The thieves had set camp in a ravine, a place they could defend more easily in the eventuality of an attack. Arthur hesitated. The probability of severe wounds and losses among his men was much higher than it had been the last time. On the other hand, the bandits were outnumbered and some of them seemed heavily drunk. After their recent and easy victory, his men were hungry for battle. And neutralising the bandits was the whole point of their expedition.
The scout Arthur had sent around the camp came back reporting he’d found a way to go down in the ravine on the other side. The King sent half of his men with him to attack the bandits on two fronts and cut their retreat. Once he judged they had enough time to get in position, he launched the assault.
Soon it was clear that knights had the upper-hand. A few thieves were too drunk to even hold a sword. The others were overcome easily. Just when Arthur was beginning to relax, the young knight running past him to get to his next opponent fell to the ground. The King thought he had stumbled on a root but then he saw the bolt in his neck. His stomach sunk. He hadn't seen any crossbows before the attack. Where did that shot come from? He looked around frantically for any sign of a bowman and froze when he noticed the bolt flying right to him, coming from above. For half a heartbeat, he thought his time had come. Then something incredible happened: the bolt abruptly deviated from its way. It avoided him and hit a thief right in the chest. Arthur was so bewildered that he almost dropped his sword.
Sorcery! He didn’t see any other explanation. There was no wind. The bolt had been aiming straight at him. But why would a sorcerer be there if he wasn't helping the bandits? Another bolt whistling right next to him roused him from his thought. Then he heard a loud crack, again. Above him, on the top of the slope, a branch gave way under a bowman and he fell unconscious on the ground. Questions ran though Arthur’s mind but again he had to put them away to focus on the fight. This time, however, he was resolute to reflect on the events later.
Recovering from his bewilderment, he shouted a warning against the bowmen. Immediately, a few knights left the battle to take care of the shooters. They found two others in the trees. Once they were down the battle was won easily and Elric, the young knight killed by the bowman, was their only loss.
There was laughter again around the campfire that night although a bit softer than after their last victory. They had given Elric a burial and grieved for him. But death was part of a knight’s life. They never got used to it but, after some time, they accepted it. Before each battle they knew they ran the risk of never coming home or never see a friend again. But those who died fighting did so with honour. Arthur was the most affected by Elric’s death as he was every time he lost a man. He knew the knights had chosen to risk their lives to protect the kingdom but he couldn’t help thinking he led them to their death and failed them somehow. And Elric was so young…
Thinking about him brought Arthur back to the fight and the mystery of that bolt. He replayed the scene again and again in his mind, the deadly projectile aiming to him and changing direction in mid-air. In the absence of wind, the bolt couldn't have deviated in such a manner without any unnatural forces. What he didn't understand was why a sorcerer would help him. Was it a way to get closer to the King and ask favours in return? But then why choose Arthur, in whose kingdom magic was banned?
As he still hadn't found any answer when the knights went to sleep, he took the first watch. He remembered their previous battle two days before and the way the branches had collapsed and saved Gwaine and him. It hardly seemed a coincidence now. So that meant a sorcerer was following them. Arthur didn’t like that one bit. The man might not have shown any threatening behaviour but who knew what a sorcerer was capable of? What was that twisted mind of his plotting against them? This help was simply too suspicious. In all his life, Arthur had never met a self-less sorcerer. He needed to bring that man down before he asked for an intolerable contribution in return of his assistance if not worse.
A rumpling sound made Arthur jump and interrupted his thinking. A hand on his sword, he surveyed the camp. It was only Gwaine walking away to make his water. The King relaxed. His thoughts went back to the sorcerer. What were the chances of catching him if he sent someone looking around the camp? Poor, he guessed. He had to be smarter than him, find a way to trap him. He could pretend to leave an injured knight behind and see if the man was still keen to help. But what if the sorcerer was only waiting to be alone with a knight to cast a spell on him? And even if he hid men around, the man was so skilled at using branches to knock people out. How were they supposed to catch him in the middle of a forest?
He hadn't come much closer to a plan when he realised Gwaine was taking way too long. For a moment, Arthur contemplated waking Percival to go after him. Then it struck him. On their first fight, one of the branches had saved Gwaine. Gwaine was the only person that had kept contact with Merlin. Gwaine had sneaked out of the camp. Could it mean…? No, he couldn’t believe it. Why would Merlin do that? Why would he help him now that he was banished? Why would he save him if all these years he’d been lying and plotting against him? Or was he wrong about that?
The thought he’d had when Gwaine had been saved by the branch in their first fight came back in his mind. He’d been very lucky before. Could it mean that Merlin had being doing that regularly? Using his magic to save him? No. No, it wasn’t possible. Sorcerers were evil. Merlin had lied too long for his motives to be honest. Arthur needed to stop being so soft. He only came up with these explanations because they hurt less than the truth. He couldn’t allow himself to get so sentimental. Sorcerers were dangerous and one of them was following him. He needed to be on his guard.
Gwaine returned just before the change of watch but Arthur pretended not to notice. He woke Percival and instructed him to be even more vigilant than usual and to wake him at the slightest suspicious event. Then he went to sleep.
The temperatures had further dropped that night. As the King rummaged through his bag to find an extra-blanket, he realised that his new servant being polite, obedient, organised and generally speaking the opposite of Merlin, also had its downsides. He wasn’t used to sleeping outside. He had packed warm cloth for the King but the extra-blanket Arthur needed was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, he lay down and covered himself with what he had. It had been acceptable, if not comfortable, until that night but Arthur was now shivering. Between that and his rummaging thoughts about Merlin, sleep eluded him.
He must have fallen asleep in the end, for he woke up to the sound of the knights shifting around him. Pleasantly warm, he allowed himself to lie a little longer. In the sweet haze of drowsiness, his mind wandered back to Camelot, to his warm chambers and soft bed. Slowly, though, the nagging feeling that something was off crawled into his mind. Searching for its origin finished to wake him up. He needed Elyan cursing the cold to understand. Arthur had been freezing too that night. He sat up, his mind in a haze. Why was he so warm now? Then he realised he had one more blanket than when he’d gone to sleep.
He needed a few moments to recognise it but when he did, his heart missed a beat. It was Merlin’s. The one he'd seen a countless times when his servant had bravely followed him anywhere without a thought about the danger. The sorcerer Arthur was so afraid of had given him his blanket because he was cold. A wave of melancholy hit the King and his squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. And he’d thought he’d never met a self-less sorcerer. That was so Merlin. How many times had Arthur woken up to find Merlin's jacket on him to keep him warm while his servant's teeth were clattering? What would he have discovered if he had accepted to listen to him? Or did he know the King so well he was he playing with him again? If that was all part of a plan to shatter him, Arthur feared it was a very efficient one.