Chapter 2: Gwaine
There was no such thing as a safety net. At least, not out here in the Australian outback. It was a harsh place at the best of times and more so in the heat. It was hot even for January, the middle of summer, and what little shade there was in the outback barely alleviated the scorching weather. There wasn't even a cool breeze to offer some relief. Relentlessly, the sun beat down on Gwaine as he hiked.
He wiped his brow as he stood under a eucalyptus tree. Loudly, crickets chirped endlessly as though to keep the heat at bay. A bush rustled, a small flash of brown and red appearing amidst the brush. In the distance, he could hear the howl of a wild dog. It was a dangerous place, a wild place.
It was funny but he never felt more at home than he did here.
-x-
Arthur resisted the urge to run down the aisle. The 'plane', as Merlin had called it, was oddly cramped for a thing that would take them into the air. Earlier, Merlin had grumbled something about business class and money when they had reached a building that was three times larger than Camelot's market. An airport, Merlin had called it, a dock for planes.
And just like any dock, it had been crowded. Arthur had expected a throng of people, but not to this degree. It had been like being in the city again, with people and trunks moving from side to side. Merlin had assured him that the world was truly not in that small building but he wasn't quite sure if he believed him. At least he didn't have to deal with them much—Merlin had used a cloaking spell that hid him from everyone's view until they arrived at the 'plane'. Apparently there was a detector that would bar swords from the vicinity and Arthur was not about to let Excalibur out of his hands.
Now, it seemed like he didn't even need to use that spell. Like livestock, they were crammed into one side of the plane. His legs could barely fit into the tiny area, the seat as small as a saddle. Even the windows were miniscule, not even big enough to leap out of should something go wrong.
"Are you sure this is safe?" Arthur asked again, his fingers fumbling to fasten the belt at his waist. The materials and clasp were a little different but it was similar to the belts he'd use to keep his pants on. If he could hardly trust those with his pride, how could he trust it with his life?
Despite how advanced this world was, they seemed to have overlooked some crucial, basic values.
"You can't even put your clothes on, what was I thinking expecting something so basic, so simple from you." Merlin grumbled under his breath. Reaching down, he expertly yanked at the belt. "Here, let me do it."
If it weren't for the fact that his sword was carefully hidden and he didn't really want to risk destroying this metal death trap, Arthur would have started his training right then and there. It had been centuries after all. He was rusty and Merlin was definitely in need of a little dodging practice. Suddenly he felt a vibration, something humming. The plane shook and he gripped the armrest beside him.
"Yes, it is safe, and if it isn't, I'll use my magic." Merlin held up his hand before Arthur could ask yet another repeated question. Somehow, that didn't reassure him much. "And no, my magic won't carry both of us over such long distances. We'll just have to do this the old fashioned way."
"Old fashioned." Arthur stared out the window, where he could spot the tips of the metal bird's wings. There was nothing old fashioned about this. Suddenly, the seat in front of him lit up. On a tiny screen, even tinier people talked. "You called that a TV, right?"
"Oh, right, that's a TV." Merlin lit up, pulling up a strange string from the net pouch attached to the seat in front of him. "I'll show you how to use it."
And get you out of my hair was left unsaid but Arthur was fine with any distraction. The plane had started to move and his ears were ringing.
-x-
Heat. Arthur almost choked on how hot everything was, how humid. The air, the sun, everything was a level of muggy he had never experienced before. Each sensation left a prickling on his skin and as he scrambled to think of a word to describe it, it suddenly appeared in his mind. A matching definition popped up seconds later. Merlin's magic was working flawlessly and Arthur's vocabulary for temperature had doubled in the past two minutes. He wasn't quite sure how much of it would remain after.
He wasn't even sure how much of his old vocabulary, his mother tongue, would remain after either. Merlin was the only one who spoke it and he barely remembered basic greetings, let alone complicated sentences. Maybe it'd die out too, a relic of a relic.
Suddenly, his shirt was too constricting and he quickly rolled up his sleeves. Behind him, the doors slid open and shut on their own, giving him brief flash of cold air. Air conditioning. At first he couldn't understand why the building was so cold. Sweat dripped down his back as he stood out here and considered a retreat from the heat. Why couldn't the whole world just be air conditioned? If anything, it seemed even the plants needed it. The grass was yellow, a sign of drought.
"So now what?" he finally asked, swallowing dryly. Even his throat was parched. Was there anything in this land that was wet?
"Not sure." Merlin flinched at the glare Arthur gave him. "This is still new! Gimme a break."
"Merlin, I did not get on that death trap for a 'not sure.'" Arthur whirled around and walked back through the magical sliding doors. "Get me when you've figured it out."
If he had to wait, it would be somewhere comfortable.
-x-
They found Gwaine in a bar. Arthur could only roll his eyes at the predictability of it all—whatever magic was bringing back his knights was clearly not affecting their personalities. Even if they could use a little fixing. If anything, it was a relief to find him just drinking at the counter for once and not in the middle of a fistfight. He was chatting up a buxom blonde and it seemed he had learned nothing from the past.
When they got back, he was going to have to refresh his knight's memory of the code.
The building was packed, assorted groups of men and women crowding every seat they could find. Arthur wasn't sure where to look—men's clothing hadn't changed all that much but women's … he hadn't seen that much skin since his wedding night.
Not that he was complaining. Considering how Merlin didn't even flinch at the sight, clearly this was the norm. If—when, when they found Gwen, maybe he could convince her to try some of these outfits. Who knew, she might already wear tiny skirts and tight tops and they should really just grab Gwaine and go find Gwen immediately. Before someone else did.
Without hesitation, Arthur tapped Gwaine's shoulder. "Gwaine."
He turned around with a broad, obviously drunk grin. There was something off about his features, just slightly off, like looking at a reflection in the water. Had his eyes always been so dark, his nose so sharp? His long unruly hair, scraggly beard, and tanned skin gave him a wild look, wilder than Arthur remembered. "Yeah?"
Even his voice sounded an octave too low. Merlin gave his friend's companion an awkward smile. "Mind if we borrow him?"
She pouted. "Don't crack onto him."
"Crack?" Arthur rubbed his ear. Ever since he arrived, it felt like he wasn't hearing properly. Merlin's magic translated each word, but for some reason the meaning never seemed to match what was said. Slang, Merlin had called it. Magic couldn't quite keep up to it.
Whatever problems he was having, Merlin didn't have at all. Instantly, he flushed a beet red. Holding his hands in front him, he swiftly shook his head. "No—not like that, he's yours, I just … we're friends, we need to talk."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. It was nice to see his friend still had his weak points. Despite how collected he acted, he was still Merlin deep down. "Why are you protesting so much?"
"Arthur." Merlin hissed, before pleading to Gwaine. "Help me."
"You…" Gwaine squinted, a puzzled frown crossing is expression. "I'm stoked, mate, but wait yer turn."
Arthur doubled over in laughter. Ah, he had missed this—it was never as much fun as when they teased Merlin together. "You hear that? He's a busy man."
"Arthur!" Merlin growled, shoving him ineffectively. "Shut up."
"So, you are?" Gwaine asked quizzically and Arthur stopped laughing.
"Huh?" Arthur stared at his knight, not sure if he was joking or not. "Your king."
"Roleplay, huh? Can't say I'm into that, but I'll do anything once." Gwaine shrugged. "When'd we meet? I don't remember having a tee-up."
"Are you drunk?" Arthur glanced at the drink in Gwaine's hand, at the dark colour of the ale. Or beer? He knew the word, Merlin's magic helped that much, but the differences escaped him. "I thought you were less of light weight."
"Yeah, nah." Gwaine's expression suddenly sharpened, his smile more aggressive now. Patting the seat next to him, he gestured for Arthur to sit and signaled for a round of drinks. "I'll take yer challenge."
-x-
Arthur leaned over and tried to resist the urge to heave. Try being the key word—his stomach roiled and the world swayed with each movement. Already he had to swallow down his dinner three times. Merlin was hovering around him protectively, doing his absolute best to make him feel even worse. If that were possible.
"Your body isn't used to our food." Merlin gently patted his back and was he trying to make his king vomit?
He was, he definitely was—Arthur could have sworn he saw small device in Merlin's hand, a sharp flash of light. A camera, he had called it, an instant painting. There was no way he was going to allow his servant to immortalize this.
"Stop. Helping." Gritting his teeth, he swatted away Merlin's hand.
Even worse, Gwaine didn't even seem affected. Sitting on the grass, he stared up at the night sky as he listened to the pair. After all of those drinks, he should have had the decency to at least look a little unwell. Wiping his mouth, Arthur straightened up and took a deep breath. The air here was different than in London—neither of them were particularly clean but where London was moist, here it was dry. He could feel his throat burn.
"Finish'd yer technicolor yawn, majesty?"
There it was again, that mocking tone. From Gwaine now too. Maybe all of his vassals needed some training. With perfect timing too, he really needed to release some stress. His hand reached his side for Excalibur, just itching to pull it out. They wouldn't even need a shield, they could just run.
Merlin gave him a look and he withdrew his hand. Annoyed, he snapped, "I can keep going."
"Good onya, you figjam." Gwaine rolled his eyes. Lying down now, he rested his head on his hands. "Lemme know when yer ready."
"…you don't remember anything, then?" Merlin broached tentatively, leaving Arthur to sit next to his friend. "About Camelot?"
"Camelot?" Gwaine glanced over at Merlin. He hummed for a moment, considering it. "That old myth?"
"Myth," Arthur scowled; despite what Merlin said, he really hated that word. They had lived, fought, died for that 'myth'.
"You were a knight." Merlin sighed, leaning back to stare up at the stars as well. The city was far brighter than home had ever been and Arthur could hardly see them when he examined the night sky. The few he did were unrecognizable—did the stars change too? "You served under Arthur."
"King Arthur," he corrected with a glare.
"Think I'd remember mugs as ugly as yers." Gwaine guffawed.
"Ugly?" he repeated, affronted.
Ignoring the pair, Merlin started to pull the grass as he thought. "So definitely not the same as Arthur then—reincarnation maybe. Or memory loss."
"Yer pretty rotten." Gwaine snorted, sprawling out entirely on the grass now. His eyes were closed. "Had too much piss t' drink? Good imagination, though. Writers, the pair of ya?"
"I have no idea what he's saying." Arthur tapped his head, giving Merlin a blank look. "The magic is not translating any of that. And did he just say we drank piss?"
"Slang's a little…" Merlin gave a weak smile before sighing. "He's saying we're drunk."
"He can also hear ya." Gwaine cracked open an eye. "Need to sober off?"
"We're not making this up." Arthur scowled before covering his mouth. He was not going to vomit in front of Gwaine. On Gwaine, perhaps, but not in front of.
Merlin nodded. "I know it's hard to believe, but you were a knight of Camelot. You were probably reincarnated to help Arthur when he was revived."
"I'll be stuffed—yer serious." Gwaine sat up, looking at Merlin now. Really looking at him. All pretences were dropped and he stood up. "I don't know what kinda fruit loop ya take me fer but enough."
Before he could walk away, Merlin grabbed his arm. "Percival, Arthur, Gwen—none of this rings a bell?"
"Yeah, nah." Gwaine snorted. "Need t' go t' the 'ospital?"
"Are you sure it's him?" Arthur asked, fatigued. Maybe it wasn't an act—despite how similar the man looked, maybe it was just that. A shallow copy.
Merlin frowned, tightening his grip on Gwaine's arm. "No, this is him. Maybe Morgana did something to him before he died."
"Morgana?" Gwaine cradled his head with a hand, biting his lip as he stared off to the distance. "Morgana…that name..."
Merlin held his breath. "Do you remember her?"
Gwaine shook off Merlin's hands. "I need a minute." Without waiting for an answer, he stalked off into the distance.
Arthur watched him disappear before looking back at Merlin. "What happened?"
"Maybe he needed a trigger to remember?" Merlin got up and dusted his pants. "Morgana killed him, after all. We'll find out when he comes back."
"Great. Knowing your luck, we'll have to do this every time." Arthur silently thanked the universe for once again proving that if he wanted to get something done, he'd have to do it himself. Clearly his knights would be of no help.
Almost half an hour passed before Gwaine returned. They were both lying on the grass, almost falling asleep, when he loomed over them, his expression pensive. "This is real."
It didn't sound like a question. Merlin sat up, eyeing him carefully as he answered. "Yes."
Gwaine sat down now, still keeping himself a little apart. "I 'ave to be off my face for believing this."
Arthur glanced at him. "So you believe us now?"
"Suppose so." Gwaine stared at his hands for a moment before he rolled back the sleeves to reveal a light scar on both wrists, a small circular pattern. "I've 'ad these since I was a child. Dreams too. Or rather, nightmares more like." Pulling back the sleeves even more showed faint burn marks, soft tongues of flame that danced on his skin.
"Are those…" Merlin looked at Gwaine for permission before he lightly touched his right arm. Running his fingers along the burn mark, his brow furrowed. "Are these from when Morgana tortured you?"
"Tortured?" Gwaine closed his eyes, dropping his arms. Slowly, as though in a trance, he murmured, "I used to dream of fire, of a searing burn."
"That was how you died." Merlin's expression was strained as he hesitantly replied. His voice was soft, almost drowned out by the chirping of crickets. "Percival was with you."
Now that Arthur thought of it, he never had asked what happened after—so Gwaine had died as well? Who else? After that final battle, it had been enough to know they had won. Trapped in his personal loss, he had never considered the others.
"This is real," Gwaine repeated, taking a deep breath. After slowly exhaling, he turned to them. "I'll give youse blokes a fair go. What now?"
"So you're in?" Merlin grinned cheerfully before his smile dropped. Grimly, he explained. "There's a great evil we have to defeat. To save Britain, maybe the world."
"I'm not drunk enough," Gwaine muttered to himself before slapping Merlin on the back. "Alright, let's get at it."
Merlin rubbed his back as he broke into a wide smile. "We're going to travel a bit."
"Travel, huh?" He paused and gave a wry grin. "My sis would be gobsmacked if I told her."
"You have a sister?" Arthur vaguely recalled hearing something of this before. Maybe this also crossed time and space.
Immediately, Gwaine's expression was serious. Darkly, he threatened the pair. "Neither of youse can look at 'er."
-x-
Arthur had slept on some of the roughest patches of earth imaginable, all while being hunted by enemies and monsters. Hell, he had even done that while at death's door. Twice.
Yet, for some reason, he shivered at the sight of this room. Merlin had called it a motel, saying it was a place people could rest at while travelling. A guest house, almost, except no guest house he'd been in had ever been so cheaply decorated. The walls were covered in some flower pattern, the bed lumpy in places, and it was like that one rat Merlin took forever to catch had dozens of children.
"It's the best I could do on short notice." Merlin gave him a dirty look before he could complain.
"You should just camp out." Gwaine echoed Arthur's thoughts, sparking a strange sense of comradery within him. "This is a dump."
"I would but I'm pretty sure your continent is out to kill us. And you. And anyone else who's on it." Merlin gave him a flat look. "I've seen the news."
"Don't you 'ave magic?" Gwaine's tone indicated he didn't quite buy that aspect of the story.
Merlin's eyes flickered a soft orange and Arthur suppressed a shiver; no matter how many times he witnessed it, it still reminded him too much of the witches that had tried to kill him. That he had tried to kill. With a snap of his fingers, Merlin's suitcase started to open up and unpack itself. Clothes jumped into drawers and toothbrushes flew into the bathroom. "You could do that?"
With a smirk, Merlin gestured for the suitcase to close and put itself in the closet. "Yeah."
"You could do all of this and yet, somehow, my armour was never polished on time nor were my clothes ever ironed." Aghast, he stared at his former servant. Emphasis on the former. He really should have had the perfect servant school Merlin a little more. "How?"
"I couldn't use magic." With a deadpan expression, Merlin pulled out a book from his bag and flipped it open. Claiming a bed, he sat down on the one closest to the door. "Uther and then you would have killed me."
Appalled, Gwaine turned to Arthur. "You'd do that?"
"That was … there were good reasons," he defended himself, bristling at the unspoken accusation in Gwaine's tone. With a lack of context, of course the law sounded idiotic. "It might have been overly harsh but we needed it."
"Overly." Merlin peered up from his book. He gave his king a pointed stare. "Overly."
"Nothing's ever good enough for you," Arthur griped, feeling a little chagrinned. Merlin was right. Though it was hard to admit that, to admit his father had been wrong, that he had been wrong. He remembered the druid camp he had destroyed, the boy who had jumped into the well. The scent of burnt flesh. Truly, he should have fixed the law the moment the crown sat on his head. "I should have changed it myself."
"Yeah." Merlin dropped the taunts, the smirk, everything. Solemnly, he set the book on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had taken Gwen all but a few days to abolish the law. "I always thought you would. I only wished you had."
Arthur blinked, surprised by the faith Merlin had showed. Had always showed. If Merlin had asked, he would have made him a knight—the loyalty and honour that he displayed were more than enough to make up for family lines and combat skills. "Me too."
They were silent for a long moment and then Merlin headed to the bathroom. "I'm going to try to pinpoint where the others are."
"In the dunny?" Puzzled, Gwainee cocked his head. He peered around Merlin to examine the small bathroom, the cramped quarters and off-white tiles reminiscent of any other motel.
"I need to use the water to see," Merlin explained, far more patiently than he did the first time Arthur had asked. He gave his old friend a gentle smile. "If you want, you can watch."
"Next time." Gwaine looked at his wrist, at the scratched watch strapped to him. "'ave ta meet my sis and set things up. It'll be 'ard to chuck a sickie."
"Chuck a sickie?" Merlin tilted his head. "Sorry, I don't know that one."
"Take a sick day." Gwaine laughed. "Y've gotta lot to learn."
"Probably. But if it's money or work, I can help out."
"Really?" Gwaine's smile was blinding as he slapped Merlin on the back. "I'll take ya up on that. Later, mate!"
The sound of running water filled the room after Merlin closed the bathroom door. Awkwardly, Arthur and Gwaine both stood there for a moment. Gwaine had always been more Merlin's friend than his, even after he turned into knight.
"Arthur." Dropping the smile, Gwaine turned to his king.
It was strange hearing such a serious tone from him. Any barbed taunt he had, he immediately dropped. "What is it?"
"I…" Troubled, Gwainee looked out the window. It was night now, the moon hanging low in the sky. Shaking his head, he headed for the door. "'s not important."
A lie, bald-faced and obvious. Arthur didn't press, merely locking the door behind him.
-x-
It had been a half truth, a half lie. Gwaine remembered next to nothing about the past, just snippets of a time, of a place that never was. That never should have been. In his dreams, he'd see visions of a castle, of a brotherhood. A suit of armour and pint of ale. His fingers would reach to brush a crown, a kind queen, but every time he tried to touch it, the dream slipped away.
The only image that stayed was that of fire. The flames licked his skin, searing him. His wrists were bound and bloody; no matter how much he twisted, he couldn't break free. And throughout this all, watching him like predator, was a woman. A woman with dark eyes who gave him a wicked smile, her nails scratching a brand on his arm. Instinctively, he knew her name, Morgana.
You picked revenge over honour. When your king falls, it will be by your hand.
A prediction of the past, a declaration of the future.
Something he could never repay, never fix. A golden crown dripped of blood, a queen overcome with grief, and throughout it all the woman's words echoed. Waking up, the scars on his arm burned as though the fire had leapt out into the realm of reality.
Maybe some sins stayed, beyond death, beyond forgiveness.
-x-
"I found Triston!" Excited, Merlin burst out of the bathroom and almost tripped over Arthur's shoes. Clutching the wall, he glared at his roommate. "Arthur, could you maybe not be a slob?"
"Or you could just watch where you walk?" he shot back, his eyes still on the magazine Gwaine got him. It had been a good two hours since Merlin had locked himself away and his knight had left behind a few things to pass the time. Whatever else he could say about Gwaine's gallivanting, he did have good taste in women at least. Dog-earing a few pages for future reference, he set down the magazine. "You found Triston? I'm grateful for his help in reclaiming the kingdom, but he wasn't exactly one of my knights."
"Not really, but over time, he started to get associated with your legend. Stories grow on their own, legends even more so." Merlin looked away. "Apparently, I'm an old man."
"Well, that'd explain a lot of things." Arthur guffawed.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Merlin couldn't suppress his own laughter, his reprimand losing meaning. "Anyways, words have power. I guess the prophecy will bring back people associated with you through your legend, even if they weren't really part of the story."
"I see." That gave Gwen a chance. If not-knights could come back, so could queens. "Where is he?"
Merlin delicately kicked away his king's shoes as he walked back to his bed. "He's back in Europe. I wish they'd all just group together so we didn't have to travel so much."
"Europe." Arthur vaguely recalled the continent, the brief geography lesson that he had received. Camelot—England was a part of it, so they were returning home. Which meant … Arthur swallowed at the realization. "So, back into the plane then?"
Merlin stared at him blankly before shifting into a sly grin. "Yeah, we have to fly again."
