"Gaius?" Guinevere called softly, raising a tentative hand to knock on the chamber door.
There was no response.
Hesitantly, she pushed it open a crack. She hated to enter the chamber without permission, but Morgana had used the last of her sleeping draught that evening and sometimes needed an extra dose to help her sleep through the night.
"Hello?"
There were no candles burning, but the chamber was softly illuminated by moonlight pouring in from the window. One last call yielded nothing; the only response was silence, interrupted by the occasional muffled snore. Gwen wavered indecisively for a moment, then slipped inside.
Having been sent to fetch refills for Morgana on countless occasions, she knew where Gaius usually kept them. Unfortunately, the second shelf nearest the door was littered with dozens of bottles and vials, several of which held contents that looked exactly like the potion she needed. And since there were no labels to identify one from the other, it seemed like a lost cause.
She sighed helplessly, then jumped as the sound was echoed by a soft moan and a rustle of bedclothes behind her.
That's not Gaius, she thought to herself as she turned around, straining to see in the darkness. The silhouette was too tall, too slender, and even though the person was lying on their back, the round belly she couldn't help but associate with the old man was noticeably absent. Was it Merlin? But why would he be sleeping out here?
Her nervousness was overcome by intense curiosity as she took a few steps closer and looked down at the sleeping man.
He was young, perhaps only a couple years older than herself. She couldn't quite make out the exact color of his hair in the dim light, but it was obviously dark, somewhat shaggy and unkempt. His skin was tanned beneath the pallor of his fever and his clothing was made of rough homespun.
He had to be a commoner then, not a guest of the court. But what was he doing here? Gaius usually treated the townspeople in their own homes, making nightly rounds to see to the more serious cases. She'd known only of close friends or noble guests to actually spend the night in the physician's quarters.
Closing the remaining distance between herself and the bed, Gwen gazed down the man's face, unable to recall ever seeing him before. Perhaps he was a friend of Merlin's, some visitor from Ealdor and had encountered an unfortunate mishap on his journey?
But wouldn't Merlin have said something if he'd been expecting a guest? Not that she expected him to tell her everything about his life, of course, it just didn't seem like him not to mention it at all.
Then again, she'd barely even spoken to him that day. She'd been working on a new gown for Morgana and had barely left her chambers until midafternoon. There'd been no time to exchange more than a brief greeting as he'd passed her in the halls, muttering something about needing to gather mushrooms for a stew Gaius meant to cook that evening.
Putting her confusion aside, she leaned forward and studied the man more closely.
Beneath the light sheen of sweat and the sickly pallor of his skin, she couldn't help but notice that he was quite attractive. Crescents of long, dark lashes shielded his eyes, he had a straight, strong nose and his lips could only be described as sensual, even if it made her feel a little silly to think of them that way. Indeed, it was impossible to find any cause for complaint – even the coarse stubble that covered the lower half of his face somehow only added to his appeal.
She was used to seeing good looking men, of course. Many of the Knights of Camelot qualified as such… even Prince Arthur was pleasant enough to look at if one managed to ignore his insufferable arrogance long enough to notice his redeeming qualities.
And yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from this stranger's face, struck by the impression that there was something different about him she couldn't quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was only that he seemed so vulnerable as he lay there wounded and unconscious? No, not exactly… but what else could it be?
He let out another soft moan and she abandoned her whimsical musings, immediately shifting her attention to his injury. Studying the bandage that covered his side, she frowned as she noticed the splotches of blood that stained the snowy fabric. How deep was the wound? Was it serious? Maybe she should wake Gaius to see to him?
But then she shook her head with a small smile. If the man was in danger, there was no way he'd have been left out here alone and unsupervised. Gaius was a conscientious physician, known to keep all night vigils at a sickbed rather than leave a critically ill patient on their own until morning.
Even with that reassurance, she still couldn't help feeling concerned for the injured stranger. Reaching out with only the slightest hesitation, she laid a gentle hand on his forehead, which was cool and clammy in the aftermath of his recent fever. Worried he might be cold without a cover, she picked up a blanket and spread it carefully over his sleeping body.
But rather than leaving after that, which would've been the sensible thing to do, she settled herself on the stool beside him. She didn't understand the impulse to keep touching him, but it was difficult to stop herself as long as she kept coming up with excuses for the gestures.
She wiped the lingering traces of sweat from his face to make him more comfortable, not because she enjoyed the texture of his skin beneath her fingers. Smoothing an errant lock of hair back from his brow had nothing to do with how soft it was, only that he seemed to be resting more peacefully, as if he were soothed by her touch. Yes, that was a perfectly valid reason to…
Of course, there was no excuse for the way her heart began to beat a little faster when he let out a soft sigh of contentment.
"What are you doing, Gwen?"
The whisper came from behind, shattering the spell and nearly making her jump out of her skin in the process. Letting out a sharp gasp, she rose so quickly that she knocked the stool over with a clatter, wincing as the man mumbled fretfully in his sleep.
"M-Merlin! I didn't... I wasn't..."
Realizing she'd been tenderly caressing the face of a stranger made her cheeks turn scarlet, made worse by the fact that it was the middle of the night. Swallowing hard, she desperately searched her mind for a reasonable explanation.
"Morgana was low on her sleeping draught and I..." She took a deep breath before she continued. "I thought I might be able to find it myself and not disturb anyone, but I didn't know which bottle was which, and..."
Merlin walked over to the shelf she'd been exploring earlier, retrieving one of the tiny bottles and handing it to her with a smile.
"I could use a bit of this myself," he grumbled. "Can you believe how loud Gaius snores? He's almost as bad as Arthur!"
Gwen smiled back, relieved to feel a little more like herself again after being strangely mesmerized and then startled out of her wits. Meanwhile, Merlin was still staring at her curiously, obviously expecting the rest of her explanation.
"I saw him while I was looking for the draught," she said, nodding awkwardly at the bed across the room. "I just thought I'd try and make him a little more comfortable since there was no one else awake to tend to him. Not that he needed tending. I mean, I'm sure Gaius already did everything he could..."
"It's okay, Gwen," Merlin reassured her as she trailed off in embarrassment. He was used to her clumsy apologies whenever she thought she'd said anything to offend someone. "I'm sure whatever you did was fine."
"Who is he?" she asked, unable to restrain her curiosity any longer.
"He says his name is Lancelot. I don't know anything else about him, but he saved my life."
Merlin went on to explain a strange creature with the head of an eagle and the body of a lion, his eyes growing wide as he described the vicious way it had attacked him and how the stranger had come to his rescue.
"The sword broke?" she said in disbelief. "How is that possible?"
"I don't know, Gwen. I saw him strike it right in the chest and you wouldn't believe it but..."
"What?"
"He's every bit as skilled as Camelot's greatest knights. Maybe even better than Arthur himself!"
Gwen resisted the urge to smile. She admired Merlin for many things – intelligence, compassion, humor and humility. But he wasn't a fighter himself, and it seemed unlikely that he'd know the first thing about judging anyone else's skill in combat either. Deciding that gratitude must be prompting a good bit of unintentional exaggeration, she chose not to call him out on it, changing the subject instead.
"Will he be all right?"
"Oh, yeah. Gaius says it's only a surface wound. The fever seems like it's already broken and with a good night's rest, he should be fine by morning."
Gwen was relieved. She didn't know anything about Lancelot, but somehow, she'd become invested in his fate.
He helped Merlin, after all, she reassured herself before she could start to wonder why she cared so much about an absolute stranger. He must've done something good to earn so much praise. And any friend of Merlin's is a friend of mine.
"I better be getting back to Morgana so I can drop this off and go home," she said, feeling guilty upon the realization that she must be keeping him awake. "You look tired and I'd like at least a couple hours of sleep in my own bed before morning."
"Yes, I should be getting back to my... floor," he responded with a rueful smile. "I guess Gaius and Lancelot are the only ones getting any decent rest around here tonight."
At the mention of Lancelot's name, she gave his slumbering form lingering glance. He must've been sleeping deeply if the sound of bottles clanking around and the conversation they'd periodically forgotten to whisper hadn't woken him. Maybe what she'd done really had given him some comfort after all. She hoped so.
"Merlin? You won't say anything to anyone about... you know..." she trailed off, trying to think of a way to describe it that wouldn't make her stutter and turn beet red.
He seemed confused by her request, which made her feel silly upon the realization that from his perspective, she'd only taken a moment to tend to a sick patient. It wasn't as if he could sense the strange attraction that had motivated her actions.
"Don't worry, Gwen, I'm good at keeping secrets," he said with an enigmatic smile. "But if you're worried the rest of the world is going to find out that you have a kind heart, I'm afraid they already know."
Blushing, she slapped him lightly on the arm and wished him good night, shooting one last glance at the bed across the room before she turned and fled the chamber.