I was bored one day after reading a bit of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and I thought: 'Wow, I wonder if anyone BBC-twisted the poem to fit into the Merlin television series'. After many web searches, AO3 searches, and looking on here; I concluded no one has sent Sir Gwaine on a year-long adventure with a snarky companion. Of course, at first I had to wonder: 'If Gwaine had a year to live, what would he do in that year?'... The answer was pretty simple, actually, but—spoilers.
In the end I decided that a BBC-spin-off-twist of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight had to be done, even if I was to write it.
And that's how this story was made.
Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own the original poem (and any other spin-offs of the poem) Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I also do not own the television series Merlin, or any characters featured in this chapter.
There are many words that could describe the knight of Camelot Sir Gwaine—loyal, brave, selfless, noble, reckless, and the list goes on—though the phrase 'drunken bastard' comes to mind to anyone who is a knight, a frequent at the tavern, or a simple peasant who has seen the man stumbling along the streets well past midnight. On this occasion, 'drunken bastard' was exactly what got him involved in the mess before him, and the adventure ahead of him.
Sir Gwaine has had many adventures, some of which he describes before he became a knight of Camelot, and a few after he became a knight—there is a chance they may just appear in this tale. This particular adventure, however, stood out among the rest of his stories; the story of Sir Gwaine and the Green Knight and the year adventure that followed (thankfully this tale was written first-hand by someone sober, otherwise it would include 'giant pheasants' or something along the lines).
Our reckless knight begins his journey on the first day of the new year; a banquet has been held for fifteen days since Christmas for the lords, ladies, knights, and those of the Royal Household. The festivities have been light-hearted and full of good will all around, even the servants seemed to be enjoying the time off given on certain days to take part. Gifts and kisses were being exchanged; one particularly embarrassing drunken, sloppy, and loud kiss on the cheek from a certain aforementioned knight gave to a protesting Merlin made the court burst into laughter—and would most definitely be remembered in years to come.
Of course, to Sir Gwaine the celebration meant fifteen days of alcohol and fourteen days of a constant hangover—which Merlin refused to give him a headache draft after the 'kiss on the cheek stunt'—and Gwaine found it to be his record breaking hangover. The man was sensible enough not to get completely drunk and miss out on the family celebrations with his friends in the past days.
The first day of the new year, however, was the last day of celebration for the court. Gwaine was not hesitating on the drinks of wine, ale, and mead; they just kept serving it to him, and Sir Gwaine made not protests against the alcohol.
This evening Gwaine found himself leaning heavily on Sir Percival, chattering away about his 'evil toad of a sister' and the tavern brawls he had gotten into in the past years. Sir Percival was ever the gentleman to quietly listen to his friend, taking a sip of his own wine as well.
No one was quite expecting a visitor in the court tonight; King Arthur had even gone out of his way to empty the castle of everyone except the servants who would serve and enjoying the celebration. What appalled them the most was when the clatter of horse hooves were heard inside the castle—coming down the hall at a rapid speed.
"Merlin, did you leave the stable doors open again?" The King turned to his manservant—and most trusted friend—with a pointed stare. A single eyebrow was quirked questionably, hoping it was just his clumsy servant being a forgetful idiot.
Merlin shook his head vigorously, just as confused as everyone else.
The room was falling silent as the sounds of hooves approached; no one in particular dared to get up and glance out to see who the mysterious intruder was. One person continued talking and laughing to himself—it was more muffled since Sir Percival had his large hand over Sir Gwaine's mouth—without a care with what is going on.
No one dared moved, everyone was holding their breath in hopes the noise would just go away—or come to be a cruel prank by the gang of boys in the lower town. Arthur glanced at his wife and love Guinevere, holding her hand protectively. His eyes moved to Merlin, who merely looked on with furrowed eyebrows and an expression of concentration.
The hooves halted for a moment, breathing continued as normal. The lords and ladies shuffled slightly, glancing at each other. Chain mail clinked as the knights were relieved also—except Gwaine was still drunk, though he seemed to have gotten the hint a while ago and had fallen silent.
The hall was about to go about as normal, until they heard a loud crash at the door.
"Come in!" Sir Gwaine chirped happily, his eyes unfocused and confused. The drunk knight looked up as his neighbor stood up with a drawn sword, the sound of many swords being unsheathed at the same time sang through the court. No one even glared at the incoherent knight's comment, more concerned with their safety or the safety of others.
The door burst open, slamming against the walls and swinging on their hinges. Everyone visibly flinched at the deafening sound, before they stared at the visitor. They seemed stupefied as a beautiful man strode into the court—but that was not the most overwhelming sight.
It was in fact the size of the man, his horse, and the very large weapon he held that intimidated the lords and ladies.
The gigantic man could only be described as a knight, his chain mail freshly polished ("See Merlin, that's how it is done.") and glowing in the candlelight of the hall. His tunic and cloak were made of the finest silk and dyed the most richest shades of green with golden embroidery.
Everyone stared up to his face; to any woman he looked handsome, beautiful, and flawless. If it wasn't for everyone in the room being frightened, they would be flinging themselves at his feet in awe. The only diverse feature about him was his green hair and beard—weaved together with gold—to make him surely noticed in a crowd such as this.
His mount was also the color of foliage; everyone inhaled their breath when they saw the oddly colored stallion. Any stableman would describe the horse as a remarkable steed, pointing out the flexing in the beasts muscles. A person with any knowledge on horses would say the charger was strong—really, it had to hold up the giant of a man while traveling.
Not a single person's eyes lingered on the man for long, or the horse. They wandered to the magnificent axe he carried in his left hand, and a holly bob in his right. The axe—which was everyone's main concern and the man wielding it—was green and gold (surprisingly enough). The blade made of what seemed to be solid gold with emeralds along the spine. The metal was bright green with lines of gold running along it in a mystical swirl until it reached the butt.
"Excuse me, sir," Gwaine said rather loudly, though the green knight did not look his way. "You h-have something—" he was interrupted by his own hiccup. "On your—" the drunk knights hand was moving unsteadily in his chin area, shaking slightly as Sir Gwaine tried to emphasize a point. "Face." Sir Gwaine hiccupped again, a sly smile dancing on his features as he tried to focus on the green knight.
Arthur took the opportunity to clear his throat. "What do you want?" He asked in an authoritative voice, although the king tried to stay polite to the man who interrupted the last day of celebration.
"I'm looking for the person in charge—the king of Camelot." The green knight's voice boomed, his green gaze sliding over each person in the room with keen interest.
He was met with silence throughout the hall; the knights had taken this opportunity to glare at the green man threateningly (those who are sober, mind you).
King Arthur spoke up once more, ignoring the hushed whispers of Merlin. "I am King Arthur." His voice loud and clear, while Arthur's blue orbs flashed dangerously.
The green knight smiled slyly, "good. I must ask you to indulge me with a game." He glanced over towards the knights of Camelot. "I do come in peace, if that will help. See?" He flicked the branch he bore in his other hand, holding it high for the court to clearly see.
Wary of the man, the knights were not easily tricked by the green-clad fellow who put foliage to shame. The original Round Table glared at the green knight, their swords still drawn in preparation for an attack on their king.
"What kind of game?" Arthur asked carefully; Merlin leaned towards the man he served for over four years, whispering to the king urgently.
"Don't you think this has something to do with sorcery, sire?" Merlin asked, his eyes watching the unknown knight.
"Merlin, the man is riding a green horse. This screams sorcery." A pair of blue eyes rolled, as the king continued louder. "Do tell, what sort of game?" King Arthur asked—yes, the king was becoming increasingly curious every moment the stranger sat on his green horse. "Dismount your steed and perhaps you can join us with your game."
The green knight merely laughed, "No, King Arthur." The king frowned at this remark, his head tilting in curiosity. "I come in peace, and yet I am dressed as a knight. I only wish for the men to grant me my wish."
"Is it a fight you ask for; if so, then the knights of Camelot will humor you indeed." Sir Leon spoke up suddenly, eyes narrowed as he watched the green man steadily. His sword was pointing at the mysterious intruder.
"No." Everyone seemed to feel a bit more at ease at the green knight's honesty. "I do not think a single man in this court could match me," his eyes watched the king frown—but he continued his speech. "Therefore, I ask a simple game to the court. Anyone who feels himself worthy in both blood and brains—"
"Well that leaves you out, Gwaine." Elyan muttered to the drunk knight—though Gwaine was not listening, his unfocused eyes staring at the green knight with his dark brows furrowed.
"Dare strike me for one stroke for another," the green knight's voice was steady as he gave himself a death sentence. "I will give him this axe, albeit it may be heavy, to strike a blow on me as I sit."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, ladies leaning over to their partners to whisper various sentences—such as "is he mad?" or "don't do it, dear" in the varying degrees. They did not have long before the green knight continued.
"If any man shall take up my challenge, then take my axe and do so now. However, every choice and every blow we make is not without consequence; whoever shall give me the blow I abide, then the right will be given to me to deal the same stroke in a year and a days time."
People muttered, looking up fearfully at the green knight. No one moved from their spot to take the axe and strike what would probably be a fatal blow to the giant man.
"What? The famous court of King Arthur is afraid to give a stroke to a man? What of this famous 'Round Table' who were the loyalist in the land? They who helped overthrow the phony queen!" The green knight laughed as he mocked the court, not noticing the embarrassed looks of the knights and King Arthur, or the uneasy shuffling of the guests.
Arthur moved around the table, glaring at the laughing green knight. His face was flushed red with many emotions as the king walked slowly towards the charger and the man who sat on it. "You dare mock my men who wish you no harm if you come in peace?" He asked quietly, looking up. "Give me the axe and I will surely deal the stroke you crave for."
The knight laughed as the king roughly took the large green and gold axe from his hand. Easily, the green knight swung his leg over and dismounted his horse to kneel on the floor, ready for the blow to be given to him. His large hands easily unclasped his silky cloak and tossed it over the saddle of his steed. "Now I am ready." He grinned broadly, looking up at the king.
Arthur gripped the haft of the axe, and swung it around, ready to strike.
No one noticed Sir Gwaine get up and make his way towards his king and the green knight; their full attention was on the said pair. "Hey, princess." Gwaine slurred, gripping the haft himself to stop Arthur from deal a blow to the man on the floor. "I think you should let a real man do this, or someone whose life is less worthy."
The King blinked, raising an eyebrow at the knight who dared defy him. Sir Gwaine didn't notice this and continued, "The green man said it himself, he will deal the same blow later on—" Gwaine hiccupped, his noble speech interrupted. "We don't want to lose our royal princess, so why don't you just go sit back at your throne and drink your fancy wine."
"Gwaine, he challenged Camelot."
"He challenged Camelots' finest. I may not be—" Gwaine hiccupped again, "the best. At least I have the brains."
The King glared at the knight, glancing down at the stranger—probably blaming the finely dressed green man for this predicament—before giving a heavy sigh. "No Gwaine." Arthur attempted to wrench the axe out of Gwaine's grip, but the drunk man held on.
"I don't have all year." The green knight, who was surprisingly waiting patiently on the floor and ready for the blow, spoke up calmly. "Just remember our covenant and get it done."
"So, eye-for-an-eye sort of deal, right? I strike you, you strike me in a year?" Gwaine slurred, his unfocused eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Correct, Sir Gwaine," the green knight said calmly.
"Sounds fun." Gwaine yanked the axe out of King Arthur's hand, deciding he would do it. Ignoring the indignant shout from the King, and the yells from the knights and Merlin, Sir Gwaine lifted the axe above his head. He twisted the haft as Arthur fought for control, trying to control his drunken knight. "Princess—" Sir Gwaine's tone sounded serious, with a slight slur from the alcohol.
The green man lowered his head slightly, waiting for the blow to be dealt.
Sir Gwaine gave one last twist of the axe's haft, before he brought it down on the green knights neck. Blood spurted from the wound, splattering the floor, King Arthur, Sir Gwaine, and the green knight alike. Of course, Gwaine thought he had been clever—cutting off the man's head meant he couldn't well walk out of the room ever again.
The court was silent for the most part. Queen Guinevere had her head buried in Merlin's shoulder—the latter obviously moving to comfort his best friend when the blow had been dealt—while the rest of the knights, lords, and ladies stared on. King Arthur's jaw was set as he gazed over the body of the gigantic man clad in green—everyone was thinking the unknown stranger was no more.
"Well, that went well." Gwaine smiled at the slumped figure, already deciding this must be a dream or drunken hallucinations.
Arthur nodded sullenly, "I think we'll move the celebration to the throne roo—" he halted mid sentence, eyes suddenly on the headless figure.
Everyone else turned their gaze towards the green-clad (supposed to be dead) knight, while collective gasps were heard from the ladies.
The green knight's headless body stood up—whom was now a head shorter—and walked towards where his head had rolled on the floor. Of course, he knew all eyes were watching the figure as he picked up his head by his green hair. Pointing the head at Sir Gwaine, blood still dripping from the severed area, its eyes were gazing steadily at the knight. "Many men know me as the knight of Green Chapel—or the Green Knight if you so wish." The Green Knight spoke in his voice once again, his lips moving and yet no body attached.
"I—" Sir Gwaine was interrupted by Arthur's glare.
"In a years time you will go to the Green Chapel on the morning of the new year—"
"Actually since it's night, would a year be the night of the new year?" Sir Gwaine interrupted smugly, a light smirk touching his impish features.
The Green Knight scowled and continued. "On the morning of the new year the stroke you have dealt will be paid."
"But—"
Sir Gwaine did not have a chance to finish his sentence; the Green Knight turned and easily hefted himself on his green mount—still clutching his severed head, which is quite a feat—and rode out of the room. The clatter of the hooves grew distant as the man rode away from Camelot.
The peasants in the town who saw him ride away began the rumors of a headless horseman, a ghost who carries his head around with him—his horse shrouded in mystery and darkness. He became a figure who would not be forgotten easily.
After what seemed like hours, the hall broke out into tense mutterings, everyone throwing glances at Sir Gwaine and King Arthur in the middle of the room. One was slumped, shoulders hunched as he seemed to be swaying on his feet—even Sir Gwaine had his limits when it came to fighting and being drunk at the same time. The blonde man seemed to be calculating, watching as some hesitant servants went to clean up the blood on the floor.
"I think it's time we distract ourselves with some acrobats." Arthur said eventually to the court, turning on his heel to go back to his seat, motioning for the servants to take the forgotten jeweled axe away.
Sir Gwaine stumbled back over to his seat, practically tripping if it weren't for Percival helping him out. The dark haired man smiled cheerily, getting back into the gusto of things, "Say, Percy. Funny dream isn't it?" Gwaine slurred, downing another glass of mead. "Beheading a man, kissing, all this alcohol."
Percival furrowed his thin eyebrows, looking down at his drunk friend. "I'm afraid, this isn't a dream Gwaine."
Gwaine just laughed, drinking more mead, ale, and wine. He didn't notice the glances the others gave him, or the hard stare Arthur would throw at him. When Merlin was talking to Sirs Leon, Elyan, and Percival, Gwaine didn't comprehend what Merlin meant by "And I'm supposed to be the idiot."
Before the day was over, Sir Gwaine found himself being dragged to his quarters by one of the other knights. "Thirty glasses of mead on the wall—" he hiccupped. "Thirty glasses of mead…Take one down and drink it, twenty-nine glasses of mead…" He sang, feeling himself being pushed on the comfortable bed. Mumbling the next line of his horrible song, Sir Gwaine fell asleep.
"Gwaine!"
Sir Gwaine cursed loudly in his slumber, though he was only partially incoherent. The scruffy knight rolled over, hooking one of his pillows so it covered his ears from the endless pounding of his door. His head throbbed from the massive hangover he was having—what was it, sixteen days now? Longest hangover ever.
"Gwaine!" The familiar voice of Merlin was ebbed with sarcasm as the door slammed open and closed. "Don't make me wake you up like I do with Arthur."
"Go away Merlin." The knight slurred, moving farther away from Merlin's voice.
He could almost hear Merlin roll his eyes as the manservant and best friend began tugging on his blankets roughly, forcing Gwaine to yank them back. Merlin was stronger than Arthur and the knights judged; after his third pull, he dragged Gwaine (who was clutching the blanket desperately) out of bed and into a heap on the floor.
"Good, now that you're out of bed." Merlin ignored Gwaine's groan. "About last night."
"I passed out early, and then had this strange dream about the Green Knight and beheading him with a green axe; then the guy got up and walked away, leaving the axe behind!" Sir Gwaine grunted into his pillow, lifting his head to look up at Merlin with puffy red eyes.
"That wasn't a dream."
"…What?" One blink, two blinks.
"Whatever it was, it happened. A green knight, appropriately dubbed the Green Knight, came in on a green horse and you beheaded him." Merlin said slowly, his blue gaze watching Gwaine's face turn from disbelief, shock, to slight horror.
"That means I need to meet him in a year to get beheaded myself." Sir Gwaine said eventually, a look of contemplation on his coarse face. He propped himself on his elbow, rubbing his stubble thoughtfully.
"No!"
"Merlin, I made a deal. No matter how much I wish I could forget about it, I can't just turn my back on a deal. Even if I was one over the eight." Sir Gwaine reasoned, ignoring Merlin's disappointment.
"So what are you going to do? Wait until your time comes?" He had a point, Sir Gwaine could either continue his duties to Camelot until the morning of the New Year (which Gwaine had to say was unfair, he killed the Green Knight in the evening) when he would most surely die. There was another choice, Gwaine had a year to live, and many things he had wanted to do before he died. He could go on an adventure, doing those 'last minute' things—of course, Gwaine would have to give up being a knight for this.
"No, I'm going to do something even better."
Two people groaned at once; Merlin, because he knew Gwaine was probably going to do something stupid, whereas Sir Gwaine's headache became unbearable. Definitely not going to practice today, he had concluded.
"Here Gwaine, Gaius told me to give you something for that hangover of yours."
A/N: How do you like my BBC-twist of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight? Of course Gwaine had to be drunk when he chopped off the Green Knight's head!
Reviews? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? I can already tell you this, Gwaine will not be going on this adventure alone. Whoever will go with him, you shall see...
I hope to update this every week, spending the week on the chapter; sadly I'm not even sure if I can keep to that, but I'll definitely try for every other week.