Author's Notes: This story is not set in any particular season. Some things happen before they do in canon, and some things never occur at all. Book one contains many canonical scenes from the TV show, but book two and onwards will greatly diverge from actual canon. You don't actually need to watch Merlin to know what's going on, nor do you need to have any prior knowledge of the Arthurian Legends. 'Accuracy' is not a thing in this series, much like the actual TV show.

Some unrequited Gwaine/Merlin and eventual Merlin/Arthur (not in this book).

I make no profit from this endeavor, and I do not own Merlin or the legends. All original characters are my own.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

"Afternoon. What'll it be?"

"Uh..."

"Mmm... you're an 'andsome fellow."

"Well, you wouldn't be the first to say it."

"Oh, no sorry. I was talkin' about your frien' here."

"... Him?"

"Mmhmm."

"Oh... thank you."

"Two tankards of mead, please."

A pause.

"I was wrong. Coming here was a great idea."

Gwaine smirked and brought his cup to his lips, gulping down the burning liquid inside. He'd seen the two men come in to the tavern and immediately knew they didn't really belong there. The first one - with hair so blond, Gwaine swore it must be gold - had strutted in like he owned the place, in fine, obviously expensive wear, while the other - a tall, lanky man - simply meandered along behind him, with an air about him that said he would rather be anywhere else.

He had met plenty men like the first before, ones who thought they were royalty, who truly believed they were better than everybody else, who strode through life looking pretty and knowing it, demanding attention wherever they wandered. And he was a good-looking fellow, Gwaine would give him that, but he reminded him too much of his own family for him to think anymore of him. And didn't that thought just have him absolutely shuddering.

But the other one. He was the man who truly fascinated Gwaine, the moment he first walked in behind his friend. Though he wore nothing near such high quality as the other one - only a simple blue tunic and some trousers, with a brown jacket, some old boots, and a red cloth wrapped around his neck - he was especially intriguing to Gwaine, and he couldn't even really figure out why. If nothing else, the man was funny, and he definitely liked that in a bloke.

The thought quickly swept away as the door opened once again to admit a burly-looking man with a threat in his eyes. And suddenly Gwaine knew there was about to be trouble. He thought he really shouldn't be shivering with excitement quite so obviously.

He watched the man swagger in, pausing briefly to spitefully slap the plates of a passing serving girl out of her arms. Gwaine tensed as he came to a stop a few feet from the counter.

"Afternoon, Mary. Business looks good."

"We 'ave our better days," the woman from before - who Gwaine assumed was the owner - muttered, her earlier cheerfulness completely absent as a look of dread washed over her face.

Gwaine glowered at the man at this. Oh, he was going to enjoy what came next.

"I don't suppose you'll begrudge me my share, then," he said, menacing as he went closer still.

The woman, Mary, tossed a few gold coins onto the counter in front of him with a look of trepidation.

The man quickly counted the coins before he was leaning forward. Gwaine clenched and unclenched his fist in preparation.

"And the rest?" he demanded.

"That's all we've got."

The man suddenly lunged forward and grasped the front of the woman's dress, a dagger in his other fist. "I'll not ask again!"

Gwaine was almost on his feet before another voice, cool as ice, stopped him in his tracks.

"Take your hands off her."

Gwaine did a double-take as the man with hair blond as gold stepped forward, lips pursed, stance relaxed and - surprisingly - predatory, eyes gleaming with something that almost seemed to spell a challenge. Gwaine briefly wondered if he'd judged too soon.

He watched as the burly man turned and charged forward, the blond fellow already ducking with a speed and agility that spoke of years of training. Gwaine fancied himself almost impressed. Almost.

The blond man took action before the bulky guy could even retrieve his bearings, kicking out and knocking him into the barrels of mead. Gwaine couldn't believe his luck. He hadn't found such an entertaining place to get smashed in ages.

As the burly man was getting up, a look of seething hatred in his eyes, the blond fellow crossed his arms over his chest in defiance.

"I'm gonna make you pay for that," the burly one snarled.

Suddenly, another voice piped up. "I'd like to see you try," it said, amusement clear as crystal.

Gwaine was less than surprised now to see it came from the friend of the blond's. He found that the two of them were not at all what they appeared. And he was positively delighted by it.

The burly man snapped his head around to glower at the lanky fellow. He abruptly stopped chuckling and looked away as the other man took a threatening step closer. Then the man was bringing his fingers to his lips and whistling.

A signal, Gwaine realized a moment before the door to the tavern barged open, and another dozen or so other men started pouring inside.

This just kept getting better and better.

The lanky man was on his feet in a moment, his blue eyes widening in shock and looking slightly guilty. Gwaine had to smother a snort of amusement. He'd never met another like him in all his wandering days, and his fascination only piqued further the more he observed the other man.

"You had to open your big mouth, didn't you, Merlin?" drawled the blond man.

Merlin. So that's what he was called. A unique name for a unique individual.

Gwaine finally got to his feet, his cup of mead still held precariously in his hand, and sauntered forward. "You two have got yourselves in a bit of a pickle, haven't you?" he said, coming to a halt in front of the blond fellow and the burly man, and glanced around at the other patrons.

"You should get out of here while you have the chance," said the blond man - and Gwaine seriously needed to learn his name - passing a fleeting look to his friend.

"You're probably right." Gwaine took one last sip of his beverage, sighing at the burn of it, and then passed the tankard to the burly man, who looked at it in confusion. Gwaine grinned as he looked up, and promptly sucker-punched him in the face. The mead went flying as the burly man tripped backwards into the barrels, and madness rapidly spread throughout the joint.

He relished madness.

One of the newly arriving men blundered towards him, while his fellow cronies, the patrons, and staff alike scrambled after each other. Gwaine grabbed the man by one of his shoulders, and, before he could get a move in edgewise, punched him twice in the gut, throwing him to the floor. He blew a long brown lock of hair from his face, and turned to see Merlin kicking another of the men in the arse, watching him tumble to the ground. He smirked, then glimpsed a blond head taking on another brawny male almost twice his size, then getting thrown into a pillar and taking a punch to the gut, and then another to the face. Gwaine winced, but had little time to do much more as a jug came flying towards his head. He ducked.

"Arthur!" That was Merlin.

Gwaine turned in time to see the man dodge a blow to the head.

"Merlin!" His fellow blond friend. Merlin turned to the man, who was currently being held down to a table by the same beefy fellow. "Behind you!"

Gwaine watched Merlin duck just in time as a giant vase went flying towards his head, barely missing before striking the wall just behind him and shattering to pieces.

A man then tackled him unawares, and Gwaine struggled to detach him. He elbowed him in the stomach, but the man kept clutching at his shoulders. Another man came out of nowhere, hefting a small table above his head, and Gwaine saw his chance. He jerked to the side just as the piece of furniture was coming down, crashing into his assailant and rendering him unconscious.

The man who had previously possessed the table pounced at him after pausing to see the damage he'd created. Gwaine easily caught the man around the neck, stumbling backward across the room at the force of the impact, towards the counter. He caught himself on the edge and brought his knee up to collide with the head of his attacker, and the man fell unceremoniously to the ground.

When Gwaine had regathered his bearings, he turned to the man behind the counter, who happened to be Merlin, and a charming smile was spreading across his lips, almost involuntarily. "Pass the jug," he said, pointing. Merlin stared at him warily for a split second, but eventually turned to grab the jug Gwaine had been gesturing to and passed it over.

Gwaine took a brief moment to catch his breath, then grabbed the proffered flagon and took a giant gulp of the liquid within.

At Merlin's sharp intake of breath, he lowered the jug and sucker-punched the man pummeling towards him in the jaw, dropping him to the floor. He then turned quickly back to Merlin, brushing his long hair aside.

"What do they call you, then?" he asked, even though he already knew.

He just wanted to hear as the man breathed out a hasty "Merlin."

Gwaine smiled and held out his hand, which Merlin promptly took. "Gwaine, pleasure to meet you."

A growl came from behind him, and Merlin stared at a point behind his head with wide eyes, gaping and gesturing. Gwaine took it for the warning it was, grabbing up the jug once more and turning just in time to smash it over the incoming man's head.

He spun back round to face Merlin once more, still smiling. "Such a waste, huh?" He laughed once at Merlin's bewildered look, then jumped back into the chaos.

The blond-haired fellow was now going after the burly man from before, and they punched and pummeled each other until the burly man shoved him to the floor and took out another dagger. He rushed his attack, and the blond man wasn't getting up fast enough.

So Gwaine, of course, charged headfirst towards the burly fellow, grasping him round the shoulders and taking him hard to the ground. Gwaine groaned at the impact, dizzy, and tried to make out the faces above and around him. What the hell had happened? Did he really hit that hard?

He tried to get up, but barely made it to his feet as a sharp pain registered in his left thigh. Gwaine searched for the wound, gritting his teeth. The bastard had caught him right above the side of his knee. He could discern nothing else as he keeled backwards, falling back into a bench before collapsing beside the senseless burly man with a grunt of pain.

And then he was out.