A/N: This is for a writer's challenge "Gwaine and the Necklace" Mine is a one-shot, but there are other categories (See information from Mrs. Bonner) So yeah, I hope it's okay. Don't forget to leave a SIGNED review if you think I should stand a chance of winning!

Gwaine flung himself onto his bed, relishing in the comfort of it. Since Arthur had become king six years ago, he had made sure that all of his knights had rooms within the castle. There were a lot of knights, so each room was shared between at least four men, but it was luxury compared to during Uther's reign.

It was late but none of the other knights had returned from the tavern. Gwaine hadn't had much to drink- he'd got himself off of his addiction to alcohol and couldn't remember last time he'd drunk any more that a pint of mead. It was at times like this that he wished his mother was still alive. He'd be able to tell her about his achievements even as a full grown, nearly 35 year old man and she'd be impressed.

With these thoughts at the front of his mind and being unable to push them back, Gwaine reached under his bed for a certain trinket his mother had given him when he was no more than about eight years old. His old village had been raided and his mother had been tied up- they would leave with her and most of the other village women in the morning. They were doomed to become slaves, mistresses or just cast aside, depending on their blood status and health. Gwaine remembered running up to his mother when the cost was clear, and snuggling up to her as far as her chains would allow him. It was then she had pulled off her necklace and handed it to him.

"I know how much you like it." She had told him, before locking eyes with him and gently instructing him to "Keep it safe."

The raiders had left with the women the following dawn, and Gwaine had never seen his mother again.

"Mother!" Eight year old Gwaine ran down the street as far as the clearing that led to the forest. Horse tracks and the marks that only the wheels of a cart would make. That was the only evidence that anyone other than those who lived in the village had been passed the forest boundaries. The little boy took a deep breath and ran further into the woods, a soft 'clink' stopping him in his tracks not long after he had taken off.

He looked around for the source of the sound to find the necklace laying there on the ground, a soft dusting of sand-like mud from the forest floor coating it. Gwaine picked it up and brushed it off before looking for a pocket or something in which he could store it. Failing that he fastened the chain around his neck, the little sliver crescent-shaped pendant glinting in the early morning sunlight that came in dappled streaks through the trees. He then continued running.

Gwaine had then come to the outskirts of another village, where he had lived under the care of an old couple until he was eleven and deemed old enough by the pair to care for himself. He wasn't really- he couldn't fight as he had had no father to train him to do so, and the old man had been susceptible to drinking just too much most nights, although he had been a kind, good hearted old fellow in young Gwaine's opinion. Forced to fend for himself, Gwaine began to travel, stopping at various different settlements as he pleased. Hamlets, villages, towns and even cities. Gwaine would steal a horse and some supplies from each, leaving the horses behind in the nearest settlement to where they tired.

During his travels, Gwaine had met many people- not all friendly, and some were even hostile- but not once had he taken his mother's necklace off, and by the time he was in his mid-teens, part of the crescent-shaped pendant had become deformed in shape leaving behind it a shape that would mean nothing to anybody else.

When he hit twenty, Gwaine met a woman. She was a few years his junior but he had been physically attracted to her almost straight away and just a week after they had started courting, he knew he was in love. He had proposed to her and she had accepted, but one night after he had drunk too much, he had betrayed her loyalty and on discovering this, she had thrown the ring back. Unable to fully let go of her, Gwaine had undone the almost rusted shut clasp of the chain, and slid the ring on next to the pendant he had received at merely eight years old.

After that, Gwaine had drunk more and more, but the seemingly meaningless objects around the chain had never lost their place in his heart. A few years after the incident with the woman he had loved so much, Gwaine had come to Camelot where he had lived for almost twelve years since. As he had trained to become a knight, the increase in muscle around his once-slender neck had rendered his chain too small for him, and he had had it extended by a local blacksmith as a joint gift from Arthur, Merlin and the knights. Arthur could've afforded it alone a few years ago, but he hadn't wanted to spend money like that when he could use it to provide health and comfort for the poor villagers, and six years after his crowning as king, Gwaine knew that Arthur no longer had enough money to spend like that. Everything he owned almost wasn't in coins of gold, but as furniture, villager's houses, and healthcare for the people of Camelot…

So now Gwaine lay on his bed, fiddling idly with the chain and the trinkets hooked onto it. The one thing he hadn't told anyone but Merlin was why he loved the necklace so much, but they didn't need to know. All they needed to know was that he did love it and that if they ever messed with it, he wouldn't be too cheery about it.