The first time that Gwaine managed to save all of Camelot and preserve its future- completely by accident- started with a crow sitting on a window ledge.
The thing was- loathe as she was to admit it- Morgana had run out of ideas when it came to taking over Camelot. Brute force hadn't really turned out well, and now she didn't even have a spy on the inside to give her hints as to the kingdom's weak points. After a week of procrastinating, she became fed up of practising her smirk in the mirror and decided to take matters into her own hands. Eventually, she'd found the irritatingly complex spell which had allowed her to assume to form of a crow, and was now perched on her dear brother's windowsill. She was prepared to wait as long as it took for Arthur to let something slip about a weakness, which she could then gleefully exploit.
She had come quite early, however. The words "Let's have you, lazy daisy!" were not very inspirational.
It took another five hours before finally something interesting happened. Morgana had just been getting hungry, and the sight of the King's lunch was not helping.
"Merlin?" Arthur did not sound pleased, and waited until he was sure he had his manservant's attention before continuing. "I'm fairly sure that the cook said there would be two chicken legs for lunch today."
"Oh, uh- really, sire?"
"Indeed. But there is only one on the plate. Tell me Merlin- why is that?"
"Well, you have always been a fast eater, sire."
The sound of a goblet hitting the wall. "Merlin, I would expect you to try and at least be subtle about stealing my food."
Unbeknown to both the Pendragons present at the time, this situation was actually rather unfair on Merlin. He hadn't been stealing food- although he might have, only a certain someone else always got there first. If he could stop Gwaine from doing it, then he would.
Actually, stopping the knight's thievery would be easy enough with magic. Merlin just enjoyed getting one over Arthur, even if it wasn't actually Merlin who was doing it, per se.
Merlin wasn't about to rat on his friend, though. Even if he was, he still would have been too late; Morgana was already flying back to her hovel to start concocting a love potion. She reasoned that having Arthur's manservant on her side would be incredibly valuable to her.
The next day, Gwaine couldn't help but notice that the bacon strips meant for the king looked very good and very plentiful when he was casually breaking into the kitchens in the wee hours of the morning. He had only bet Percival that he could steal one of those apple pastries from under the cook's nose (neglecting to mention whether she was asleep or not), but he had been craving bacon all morning, and taking Arthur's made it all the more appealing.
Gwaine inched closer, fingers twitching slightly. There were only a few maids scurrying about, sending him curious glances and enjoying the peace of the early morning before the head cook stormed in. The knight fought back an evil laugh. No witnesses.
He did hesitate for a second, when he remembered hearing Merlin cover up for Gwaine's thievery of Arthur's lunch just the day before. He didn't enjoy seeing his friend in trouble, even if it was just over a little chicken leg (Arthur had insisted it was more the principle of the thing that mattered), but with another glance at that bacon, any worries melted away. Merlin could handle a little stroppiness on the King's part- that was even if he noticed.
Arthur certainly was oblivious to a lot of things.
Nonchalantly, he mooched over and just snatched the best looking strip from the bunch, feeling the rather childish thrill of breaking the rules rush through him.
He devoured it quickly, realised something was wrong, and had about half a minute to flee to Merlin's room before his thoughts became a whirling stream of Morgana, Morgana, Morgana.
Thankfully Merlin caught Gwaine before he could finish dazedly packing a bag to ride off into the sunset and a witch who would ultimately not appreciate his affections. He managed to reverse the spell through a potion of Gaius' invention and certainly not magic because magic was illegal and Merlin couldn't do magic.
He started upon realising, a couple of days later, that the bacon was probably intended for him (he refused to believe for even one second that Morgana would consider letting her brother fall in love with her). He shuddered to think of the consequences of Emrys falling in love with the one person determined to bring down Arthur. The manservant let Gwaine have a strawberry from Arthur's breakfast the next day as a little thank you for potentially saving Arthur's life. He was sure the King wouldn't mind.
He was wrong.
The next time Gwaine managed to save Arthur's life was while he was feeling very annoyed at the aforementioned King.
Just because apparently training was 'mandatory' and it was 'essential to staying a Knight of Camelot', Arthur was getting his cotton socks in a twist over Gwaine not showing up for Monday's session. Gwaine had, quite reasonably, tried to explain that he'd simply been drinking uproariously the night before, that was all, and he didn't quite fancy being bashed on the head the next day and would rather just give training a miss so as not to bring everyone else down. Arthur remained unsympathetic.
The princess had apparently needed to teach Gwaine some kind of a lesson, so he sent the knight on a one-man patrol around Camelot's walls. Gwaine knew for a fact that Arthur knew there was absolutely no point to such an exercise, so he was just wasting the knight's time with what was essentially Camelot's substitute for the naughty corner.
It was ridiculous. Gwaine watched the sun set with a rather bitter glare, knowing that by now all the other knights would be heading out to the Rising Sun for some fun, while he was stuck in the cold until he had skirted the whole of the annoying large city.
Gwaine was very close to finishing his pointless task- not to mention absolutely seething- when he suddenly spotted a silhouette not far from the castle entrance, a stooped figure draped in a threadbare hood.
If Gwaine had learned one thing from Morgana, it was that you should not trust people creeping round in hoods at odd hours of the day.
He spurred his horse onward slightly so as to be able to meet the stranger at the gate. Calling for them to halt, he finally saw the gnarled face of an old woman scrutinising him from beneath her hood. She was hunched over a basket of apples, knuckles white from the apparent strain of holding the basket up. Gwaine's mind was irresistibly drawn to Red Riding Hood and he bit back a grin.
"Please," the lady croaked (of course she would croak. All the mysterious old ladies were doing it nowadays), "I am but a humble farmer's wife selling the last crops of the season. Allow me passage to the city." She held up the basket with a smile, "Try one?"
If it had been anyone but Gwaine, she would have been waved on without a thought to check the basket. If it had been anything but apples, Gwaine could have politely refused.
As it was, he jumped off his horse and leaned over- trying to appear casual- and examined the apples in the basket. They didn't look good at all; most of them scarred and scratched, shrivelled, and generally cratered with maggot holes. A few at the bottom were coated in a light spray of mould here and there.
But they were apples.
Gwaine shrugged, decided he liked his odds, and reached for one of the less… infected-looking ones.
The old lady's features twisted with shock and she abruptly pulled the basket away before the knight could take an apple. "Uh, actually I changed my mind."
The poor woman tried to shuffle past, not knowing she had committed a terrible, terrible crime in Gwaine's eyes.
"Why can't I have one?" He blocked her way, and felt guilty about it before glancing at the apples again.
The old woman paused for a few seconds. "I need to make as much profit as possible."
"But- I really like apples." Gwaine was growing more suspicious of this apple dealer now.
He slowly half-reached to grab one when she looked away, and stopped suddenly when he saw the apples reflected in his gauntlet. They looked very different in the reflection- perfectly ripe with flawless red skin. The royalty of the apple world.
But why did they only look like that in reflection? It wasn't a trick of the light, as a good few seconds' examination proved. But surely they couldn't be…
The woman caught him looking, saw what he saw, and slowly met his eyes. Then she grinned.
"You don't know who you're dealing with, Sir. Best let me past." Her evil grin looked professional; clearly she was some kind of enchantress.
Gwaine thought about stepping aside for about a millisecond. Deciding against it, he acted on instinct and darted forward, knocking the basket out of her hands and the apples into the mud. The illusion vanished and they tumbled out looking as they had done in the reflection.
There was a long, slightly awkward pause. Gwaine felt like he should maybe say something, but she looked to be in a bit of a sulk. Finally, she spoke up in a low, stroppy tone.
"King Arthur could have been dead by this evening if you'd just minded your own business. My son-"
"Look, I've destroyed your threat, so can you just go?" Gwaine tried not to whine. He wasn't in the mood for some family sob story.
"I will curse your King-" the old woman tried again, before Gwaine's sword found its way through her heart. Perhaps he'd been slightly impulsive, but the knight didn't think he had the energy for yet another sorcerer proclaiming revenge on Camelot and Arthur and all that.
She looked at him with a death glare and, with a flash of her eyes, Gwaine was thrown into some nearby bushes before she crumpled to the ground and burst into ashes. Gwaine took a nasty bump to the head, but decided it was worth it.
Even the best knights can't save the kingdom all the time.
"I failed…"
Percival's eyes widened as he stared at his friend, once so full of life, now just… broken.
"No, you haven't." Percival tried desperately to console his friend. He received no response. "Gwaine. Gwaine!"
There was a moment's pause, and in that pause the world just seemed to stand still.
Then the moment ended, and Gwaine turned to look at his friend, eyes blazing with a fierce light.
"Percival, what kind of man can't get his friend to a tavern on their birthday?" Gwaine argued, obviously upset. Arthur had not-so-politely refused the knights' invitation to the tavern on the night of his birthday, stating that a formal banquet was much more suitable. They'd all been slightly disappointed, but Gwaine was evidently taking it personally. Percival sighed. He knew that he'd be buying tonight.