Title: Evergreen
Category: Gen (Canon AU)
Characters/Pairings: Gwaine
Rating/Warnings: T
Summary: This is a Merlin-centric reinterpretation of the late 14th century poem, "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight." Set sometime during an alternate "Golden Age" of Camelot between Series 4 and 5, where magic is freely accepted in the kingdom.

Author's Note: Includes (as minor characters) other knights that would have been around at this point in the traditional legends.

Part I: The Challenge

"Merlin!" King Arthur called in an ever so slightly demanding voice. "Come entertain us!"

The Court Sorcerer glanced up from his seat between Sir Percival and Sir Kay, the latter of which he'd been regaling with an amusing tale about the time Arthur had been turned into a donkey. The newly named seneschal was the most recent addition to King Arthur's Court, a warm, constantly smiling man with a wonderful laugh that shook his body from head to heel whenever he found something humorous.

Merlin loved telling these stories... fond recollections that painted the venerated King Arthur as someone more human and fallible for those who looked at him in awe. After all, it was his belief that the imperfections were what made Arthur so worthy of being loved, even though most of the people he ruled would never have the privilege of seeing them firsthand.

Recounting such adventures to Sir Kay, however, was a particular delight. The walls of the cavernous banquet hall echoed with the sound of uproarious laughter as Merlin scrunched up his face into a disgruntled expression and held up a long finger on either side of his head to give the impression of donkey ears.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" Arthur's voice cut across the warm, smoky hall. "I thought I told you to come entertain..."

"I am entertaining, sire. Can't you hear Sir Kay laughing?"

Arthur leaned back in his comfortable chair, then loosened his belt with a sigh of satisfaction as a small army of servants arrived to clear away the remains of the sumptuous New Year's Eve feast. "I'm quite sure all of Camelot can hear him," he said, pausing to stifle a belch. "That isn't the point."

Merlin turned back to Kay with a mischievous grin. "Speaking of belts..."

"Merlin!"

Shaking his head in resignation, the sorcerer rose to his feet and went to join the glowering king. "Yes, sire?" he questioned, in a voice so solicitous that Arthur searched his face with eyes full of suspicion before he spoke.

"Entertain us, Merlin. I could do with a little amusement."

"I believe the title is 'Court Sorcerer', Arthur, not 'Court Jester.'"

"That can easily change," Arthur muttered darkly, though a hint of a smile played around the corners of his lips. "Now come on, why don't you juggle, or make fireworks, or whatever it is you do?"

"How about I turn you into a frog?"

"Try it, and I'll have you thrown the stocks. You might not be a servant anymore, but I'm still king. One word from me, and you'll be covered in rotten tomatoes."

"It might be a little hard to give that order when all you can do is croak."

Their conversation was interrupted by a giggle from the other side of Arthur's chair. Queen Guinevere hastily covered her mouth and looked away.

Arthur wasn't fooled. "You think this is funny, do you? Why don't you talk to him then? He actually listens to you."

"That's because I don't order him around," she replied sweetly.

"I don't order..." Arthur protested, then trailed off as both Merlin and Guinevere let out incredulous snorts. Sir Lancelot choked on a mouthful of ale at a table nearby and Sir Gwaine pounded him heartily on the back, seeming to forget the tankard that was clutched in his other hand as he sloshed his own drink all over the front of his friend's tunic.

Merlin watched in amusement as Lancelot hurried from the hall to change into a clean shirt, then turned back to Arthur with a grin. "Really, you need more entertainment than this?"

"Is it entertainment you seek?" a deep voice suddenly thundered through the hall. The wide double doors burst open and a mounted figure stood in the entranceway, surrounded by a heavy cloud of mist that made it impossible to distinguish anything other than a looming black silhouette.

Every pair of eyes flew to the intruder, as dozens of hands dropped to the scabbards at their belts.

"Who are you?" Arthur called in a loud, ringing voice, his watchful eyes never showing even the slightest trace of fear. "What is your purpose here?"

The man, for surely that was what he must have been, shook his head and chuckled. "Call your men off. I mean you no harm. I'm simply here at your request. You asked for entertainment, did you not? Well, I have come to fulfill the great King Arthur's wish."

The crowd watched silently as he dismounted, and then a series of audible gasps filled the hall as he moved beyond the mist and stepped into the light. He was an unusually large man, taller and broader than even Sir Percival, clad in a heavy green cloak that covered him from head to toe.

But that wasn't why the astounded onlookers stared at him in shock.
He was actually green.

It wasn't just his clothing, or the green leather glove that gripped a holly branch in one huge fist. His craggy face was bright emerald, with a long, thick beard that lay on his chest in both the color and texture of summer moss. Wisps of hair of every possible hue of the shade peeked out from beneath his voluminous hood, and when his mouth relaxed into a smile, his teeth resembled a perfect row of tiny green beans.

"Magic!" someone hissed under their breath, but the word no longer held the heavy edge of suspicion as it once had throughout the kingdom. Instead, there was a distinct hint of wonder in the sound as the man strode forward, then knelt respectfully at Arthur's feet.

"I have come to issue a challenge," he said quietly, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling in his chest. "A challenge that will reward a fine prize to anyone who succeeds."

He rose to his feet and reached beneath his cloak, withdrawing a broadsword that glinted brightly in the torch lit hall. The knights moved swiftly forward in anticipation of any threat to their king, but Arthur held up a hand as the man bent down and carefully laid the sword on the floor.

The collective gasp that filled the room was primarily masculine this time, as the eyes of trained warriors and eager young squires stared hungrily at the glittering weapon. The polished silver was flawless and razor-sharp, topped by an intricately carved hilt of some darker metal, from which emeralds and peridots sparkled and winked in a beautiful pattern of leaves and vines.

Not a man among the knights had ever owned a weapon of such quality; only Excalibur itself, forged in the Dragon's breath, could be considered superior.

"What is your challenge? I'm sure any of our knights would be glad to meet you in honorable combat on the field tomorrow, or we can surely arrange a joust, if that is what you prefer."

The man shook his head with a small laugh. "Oh, I don't think so. Forgive me, but there's not a man among you who could hope to defeat me in a fight."

At these words, there was a low murmur of outrage from the men; it was to Arthur's credit that he was able to silence any evidence of their offended pride with nothing more than a meaningful glance.

"Here's my challenge!" the man called out in a booming voice. "You may strike one blow against me with the sword at my feet. A solitary blow, and you may keep it as your prize! There's just one catch: I ask that you consent to meet me in a year and a day, where you will receive a single blow in return."

The crowd stirred restlessly. Bewildered knights murmured to one another, as both Merlin and the king stared at the green cloaked man intently. There was a long silence, and then Arthur cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

"I..."

But Guinevere was clutching his arm, pulling him back down in his chair as she hissed a frantic protest.

"I accept!" Gwaine strode forward with a casual smile on his lips, which was in sharp contrast to the hungry look in his eyes as they remained transfixed on the sword on the ground. The challenger gave an approving nod as the knight knelt down and lifted the weapon in his hand, testing its sharpness with a look of wonder before he rose with a determined expression.

"Wait!" Arthur commanded, firm and unyielding as he rose from his seat again and stepped forward to stand between the two men. "I am still king here. Nothing happens without my consent, especially if it involves one of my best knights. You must allow us to have a word with him, and to examine your sword before you proceed."

The man bowed respectfully. "One of the most worthy traits a man can possess is loyalty, particularly when he shows obedience to the ruler he has vowed to serve. Please, take your knight and discuss the matter as you will. We'll go no further without your blessing, my king."

And then he stepped away, putting a reasonable distance between himself and the small group that had begun to gather around the mysterious sword.

"Well?" Arthur prompted softly, as Merlin turned the weapon over in his hand and examined it with narrowed eyes. "Can you detect an enchantment? Is it dangerous?"

"Nothing that I can sense. Of course, not all spells can be identified just by touching the object, but I'd be able to sense any dark magic, I'm sure of it. There is none."

"There has to be some trick. One blow from a sword like this, in the hands of a skilled knight? It would definitely be fatal. And that man…" Arthur jerked his head in the direction of the green figure who had helped himself to a tankard of ale. As they watched, he took a long drink and wiped his mouth, smacking his green lips together with a satisfied smile. "Well, he doesn't exactly strike me as someone who wants to die."

"Definitely not," Merlin agreed. "If I had to guess, I'd say there is some enchantment involved. But it's probably a harmless one... maybe the sword will disappear just as Gwaine strikes, or turn into something else?"

"So I don't get to keep it?" Gwaine looked crestfallen.

Arthur sighed heavily. "Well, I guess there's no way of knowing unless you try. But... are you sure you want to do this? He's already said he waits for my permission. I don't have to give it if you don't want me to. Just say the word."

Gwaine pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't think he'd be so... respectful if he meant to hurt anyone. And why would he be foolish enough to take a risk like that in a hall full of armed soldiers anyway? Sire, I wish to accept the challenge."

"Very well," Arthur said a little grudgingly.

A few minutes later, Gwaine stared down in consternation at the thick green neck that lay exposed as the man sprawled out across a trestle table, his arms spread wide as he waited for the blow to fall. Never one to hesitate, however, the knight sucked in a deep breath and lifted the sword above his head, then brought it down in a swift, forceful motion.

Several onlookers screamed as the severed head flew across the hall, landing with a sickening thud at Guinevere's feet. The queen recoiled, an expression of mingled horror and disgust twisting her lovely features as a pool of deep green blood spread across the floor, staining the hem of her silk gown, while the massive body on the table gave a violent twitch and grew deathly still.

Gwaine stared at the finely jeweled sword still clutched in his hand with eyes full of disbelief. "I didn't think... I didn't mean to kill him."

In response, there was a sudden howl of laughter. Everyone glanced around in bewilderment; the sound of merry amusement was positively jarring as it echoed throughout the solemn room.

"Swing a heavy blade at a man's neck? What did you expect it to do... kiss him?"

Guinevere's gasp was so loud that all eyes flew immediately to their queen, who was staring down at the disembodied head at her feet with one hand covering her mouth, and the other clutching Arthur's arm so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. No one moved so much as a muscle, nor did they speak a single word as the massive body suddenly hopped down from the table and picked up its own head by a shock of green hair.

The green man spun around to face the crowd, his severed head swinging back and forth in midair like some macabre pendulum as its eyes casually scanned the hall.

"Sir Gwaine!" the mouth called out boldly, curving up into an approving grin when the knight stepped forward without hesitation. "Keep your prize! Remember the pact you have agreed to on this night, however; I expect you to meet me in a year and a day to receive a blow in return."

"I am a man of my word. Where can I expect to find you at the appointed time? Will you return to us here?"

The severed head laughed. "Oh, no. I'm afraid this is a task you must face alone. Seek out the Green Chapel when the time comes, and look for the man who dwells within. It is none other than myself you will find when you arrive... and should you have the need to request me by name, I am known as the Green Knight."

"Where can I find this...?"

As swift as an arrow, the Green Knight vaulted onto the back of his massive steed and disappeared into the cloud of swirling mist from whence he'd come, a final howl of laughter emanating from the disembodied head he held proudly aloft as he departed.