Gwaine had been taking his turn to watch over the campgrounds while Prince Arthur and the rest of the knights slept, and Merlin tended to their belongings when it happened.
They had taken refuge in a forest near to Ealdor, and the night air was brisk as they struggled to calm their hoses long enough for Percival and Leon to gather supplies and set up their tents. Gwaine sighed, giving Merlin his blanket. He didn't see how it was fair that the knights and the prince got to sleep comfortably even if they were in the middle of the woods, and Merlin was still forced to sleep on the dirty, damp floor. He greatly disliked seeing his friend wake up dirtier and covered with more sticky leaves and bugs than the night before. And then Arthur had the audacity to complain when he forced Merlin to make breakfast and there would be a tiny beetle crawling out of the bowl only to fly away from the prince's glare.
"If you don't want bugs in your food, then at least give me a blanket to sleep on!" Merlin retorted. Arthur scoffed.
"You're not a knight, Merlin, really," Arthur shot back nonchalantly, pausing as he realized what he had just said, processing the slightly hurt look on his servant's face. Gwaine shook his head. He knew Arthur had only meant it as a joke, but did he really have to go that far?
"You…. are such a prat, Arthur, you know that?" Merlin tried shakily to keep himself sounding sarcastic, lighthearted. But Gwaine could see how Merlin deflated slightly. Saying Merlin didn't need a blanket to keep warm simply because he wasn't a knight…
It was like saying Merlin's well-being didn't really matter.
Sure, he had seen other knights treat peasants as such, but he had never really expected it from Arthur; after a few minutes, however, the damage had been done, despite how many times Arthur attempted to apologize. Merlin kept a smile on his face though, going through the motions of cleaning up after everyone as he normally would back at the castle.
"Merlin, do you want some help?" Gwaine asked, as Arthur and the others retired to their comfy bedrolls, back to the safety of their tents from the angry servant. Merlin dumped all the bowls back in the bag, not even bothering to wash them. Shoulders slumped, Merlin shook his head.
"No, Gwaine," he sighe heavily, "it's fine."
"But you have so much to clean," Gwaine pointed out uselessly, "And we're in the middle of the woods-"
"And I'll just let Arthur yell at me again because lo and behold a stray leaf decided to fly into his hair," Merlin wrung his hands, brushing his ebony black hair from his face. "Gwaine, he always finds something to complain for." Gwaine shrugged.
"Yes, but that's just Arthur," Gwaine pointed out, "I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to ask for some help here and there."
"Are you kidding?" Merlin said incredulously, "It's status, Gwaine. Arthur probably wouldn't be able to wipe his own backside if I weren't there. I'm supposed to do everything for him, that's my job."
Gwaine had to admit, Merlin was doing a fine job. It was only recently that Arthur had begun to complain of Merlin's work. It was strange though, how vocal he was about it at this point. When they had started the patrol, the first thing Arthur had Merlin do, in fact, was sharpen his swords. The odd thing was, they had just gotten into the neck of the woods, and Merlin didn't have the necessary tools. So Princess (as Gwaine called him behind his back) complained about how blunt the blade was the entire day until they set up camp that first night. Everyone had gone to sleep either tired of the constant string of comments and complaints or cold and wet, as Mother nature decided they hadn't had enough troubles on their hands.
Merlin had gotten a cold, body shaking every now and then as he tried to stave off the beginnings of a fever. It didn't help that Arthur was stupid enough to go somewhere without vials of medicine in case anything like this happened. But the next day, miraculously, Merlin was fine, up and about as he always was.
"Yeah, that's true," Gwaine chuckled, getting Merlin to crack a smile for what seemed like the first time they had begun this damned patrol. Wiping sweat off his brow, he offered, "But next time, if you feel you need help with something, don't hesitate to ask me, alright?"
Merlin nodded, still grinning, "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Gwaine."
"I should probably get back, or else Elyan will have a fit if he found out I didn't wake him up to take the next shift," Gwaine muttered under his breath, although he took it in stride. Elyan was a great warrior, someone he would defend with his life; no doubt the man would do the same for him or anyone else. Especially his sister, Gwen.
"Alright," Merlin said. The dawn had begun to creep up over the horizon, shafts of orange and yellow light peeking between the trees, playing tag with the chilly breeze as it rustled the vegetation of the forest. Gwaine took one look at Merlin before going back to the tents. The others had a tendency to oversleep, and they needed to use the daylight while they were able to have it. He could hear Merlin faintly cursing out the bowls as he made an attempt to even get them to look clean.
Percival, Leon, and Elyan were all huddled together for warmth, the big lug that was Percival cradling the thin gray blanket in his beefy arms, leaving Elyan and Leon to cling to one another. Gently, with the toe of his boot, Gwaine nudged Elyan's side, and the knight groaned, nearly smacking Leon in the face as he stretched. Leon's orange beard and curly hair had leaves stuck in it. Gwaine suppressed a chuckle as he watched Leon scratch at his stomach, the chainmail he wore riding up to expose a somewhat pale, slightly defined stomach. Gwaine laughed, "Time to get up, you ninnies! Who knows what Merlin has for us in terms of breakfast today!"
"Breakfast?" Percival jolted awake, rubbing blearily at his eyes. Of course Percival's first waking thought would be of breakfast. It seemed to be the only thing on his mind.
"Yeah, so let's get up, lest the princess wants to sleep in," Gwaine suggested, everyone groaning at Arthur's nickname.
"Can't we just let him sleep in a bit longer?" Leon suggested meekly.
"I don't think I can listen to him badger Merlin one more time over bugs, I swear," Elyan shook his head in agreement, "I mean, what did he expect being in the woods? Daisies and rainbows?"
"Whatever, let's just get some breakfast and we'll wake Arthur later," Percival said, throwing off his blanket, "I'm starving!" Gwaine rolled his eyes as he lead the other out, commenting, "You're always hungry, Percy." Gwaine glanced around, trying to see where he had left Merlin. No one was in sight, the horses clopping unsteadily by a tree a few feet away from the campsite. Arthur had insisted they be tied to tree far enough where he could see them, but not have to deal with the smell. Percival immediately plopped himself down at the fire pit, rubbing his hands together.
"So, where's Merlin?" he asked. Gwaine shrugged, gesturing over his shoulder near the stream.
"He was getting wood for the fire, to actually cook the food this time, you know?" Gwaine teased, "Nah, he'll be back soon." Percival seemed satisfied, clapping his hands against his thighs as he stood up. "Where are you going?"
"Well, if the food isn't cooked yet, I'll just go get my stuff from the tent and sort it out," Percival explained, "Besides, Elyan and Leon have been having spats over whose blade is sharper. I told them I'd help sort it out." Gwaine nodded, watching as Leon shoved Elyan with "I know mine is sharper, mate!" Elyan retorting with, "Well, mine's longer, so there!"
Gwaine thought he could hear the distant pounding of hoofs, but then he remembered that the group had their horses, all being as noisy as they wanted. He could hear Merlin cry out in agony as he most likely dropped the dishes for the third time that morning. Boy, was Arthur going to have a fit if he found out it took this long just to clean the damned things, then to have to go and cook the actual food, which Merlin would most likely be given no time to eat himself.
Sometimes Gwaine thought Arthur had it out for the boy, he really did.
The stream gurgled as Gwaine took it upon himself to venture don't to the lakebed and join Merlin, picking up a few dry sticks here and there. The soil was much more damp by the water, the knight's boots squishing in the mud, water quelching into the soles with each step.
"You know, Merlin, I'm not really sure why you need all this wood in the first place," Gwaine said aloud as he gathered three more to add to his collection.
No answer.
"I mean," Gwaine continued, "my back hurts and I've only just started…."
Only the twitter of birds overhead were his reply.
Odd, Gwaine thought, brushing his hair out of his face as he looked around. No one was in his general vicinity, but glancing down west of the river, he thought he could see someone. The first thought in Gwaine's head was that it was Merlin, taking Arthur's horse for a drink. Starting towards the person in the distance, Gwaine began to hum to himself- nothing important, just a small song his mother used to whistle when he was a child. It was nice to think of her once in a while when with the knights, just to know that he could be comforted. The bundle of sticks began to scratch his arms, a piece of the twigs getting caught in the sleeve of his chainmail.
"Merlin ought to be happy I'm doing this, right?" Gwaine began to talk to himself, bending down to pick up more branches by the stream, "Bloke has enough to worry about already…."
As he bent to pick up his fifth stick (he had made a game of it, rhyming the number of driftwood collected) he came across the shattered piece of clay and porcelain. Carefully fingering the shard, Gwaine lifted his head, glints of gold and white teasing the knight, a trail of breadcrumbs leading him home. A treasure chest on the map, as they said.
Gwaine dropped his bundle of sticks when he heard Merlin's cry, the shard of the plate drawing a thin line of blood on his palm where he clutched it.
"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted, the trees around him blurring as he ran, "Merlin!"
"Quick! Gimme the knife!" Gwaine could hear a man yelling, Merlin's grunts as he tried getting away, hopefully. The knight nearly fell on his face as he skidded to a stop in a small clearing, slamming into a tree. Pain burst like fireworks in the back of his skull as he looked up.
Regrettably so, as a group of bandits had the servant on his knees, head pulled back to bare his neck and a knife resting on his throat. Gwaine's mouth felt dry as he watched Merlin struggle, how his strangled cry for help sounded like that of an animal. Eyes darting between the brutes (there were about five in total, the biggest one looking on as a rather wiry man held on to Merlin), Gwaine went for his sword, then realized it wasn't there.
"Shit!" he said, quickly ducking behind a tree as the thugs all turned towards the sound. Merlin had gone silent, his shoulders trembling violently as his head was kept practically upside down against the wiry thug's chest.
"Who's out there?" called the leader, his voice booming and racking like thunder. Gwaine felt his knees buckling. All of them had weapons. He wouldn't be able to do anything…..
Unless he went back to the camp.
Of course, Arthur would reprimand him for leaving the campsite in the first place. And then badger on about how Merlin was always never where he was supposed to be. Gwaine shook his head; he couldn't think about the repercussions. He had to move. Now.
Spinning on his heels Gwaine darted out from his hiding spot, stumbling as he jumped over tree roots to race down the lakebed and back to the knights. Thankfully, the bandits ignored him, having turned their attention back to Merlin, but it was all Gwaine could do not to run back and punch the man square in the nose as he nearly leapt upon his gear, hearing Merlin's faint cries in the distance. He was almost clear of their camp when Arthur called out for him.
"Gwaine! There you are!" Arthur said nonchalantly, "Where have you been? We need to get started-"
"No time! We need to go now-" Gwaine started dragging Arthur behind him for only a few moments, suddenly lunging forward with his momentum as Arthur jerked his arm away, raising an eyebrow at him. Gwaine struggled to retain his balance, and his boots were filled with sticky mud, the substance drying colly on his feet.
"Gwaine, where is Merlin?" Arthur said with disdain, "I mean, it doesn't take that long to wash dishes-"
Arthur stopped dead in his tracks when they heard Merlin's pained cry, verberating through the trees. A murder of crows manifested from their perch on an overhead canopy, blotting out the sun momentarily in the sky. Before the other knights (who had sprang forth from their tents at the sound) or Arthur (who only ceased to look more confused) could stop him, Gwaine was charging back through the forest, sword smacking his thigh as he went. The shuffling of footsteps told him that the others were in pursuit; it was good, as he didn't know how strong these bandits were. Or (heaven forbid it) if they practiced magic.
Finally, as they made it to the clearing one more, Gwaine nearly keeled over from what he saw, bunching Arthur's chainmail in his fist to keep standing. The prince looked no better, his face having paled. Percival and leon had drawn their swords, Elyan looking ready to flee the scene.
"Well, shit," one of the bandits said, catching the buff leader's attention, "Looks like the little pet has guard dogs, huh?" Gwaine didn't hear what the man had said though, as he was already swinging his sword, preparing to slice through the ugly man's neck-
-and found a bout of pain radiating through his skull as he was suddenly thrown backward, smashing into a tree. The last thing he heard was Merlin's agonized screams as the knights ran forward, swords raised high above their heads.