Chapter Two

Gwaine choked slightly and let out a rough cough, then inhaled deeply through his nose. Immediately, he was filled with suspicion at the unusual scent that filtered through his scences. He was used to waking up in the rooms of inns, or even passed out in an alley. He was familiar with the scent of alcohol and the rusty smell of bed linens, and even occasionally the sharp stench of vomit.

But this was different. Wherever he was smelled strongly of herbs and flowery fragrances. Then he registered that he was laying on his back on a firm, but lumpy mattress. When he opened his eyes, he encountered a bright light streaming in through a window to his right, just managing to resist the urge to groan in agony and start clawing his eyes out. He had a massive headache that was the thing of nightmares. Which, all things considered, was rather odd, as he was usually quite capable of holding his drink. Well, drinks. Lots of them.

He sat up carefully and rested on an elbow, bringing one palm up to caress his aching head. (He valiantly ignored the twinge in his knee.) Taking a cursory glance around the small room someone must have deposited him in, he relaxed, taking note of his possessions near the wall beside him, and the unthreatening aura that filled the small space.

A wooden door in front of him was suddenly creaking open, and he recognized Merlin standing in the doorway, a tray in his hands laden with something that smelled very much like breakfast.

Gwaine hesitated. "What am I doing in this bed?"

Merlin stepped quickly inside, not bothering to close the door all the way behind him. "You were wounded," he said, setting down the tray on a small side table beside the bed. "Arthur wanted to make sure you were treated by his physician."

Gwaine stilled. "Arthur?"

Merlin nodded slowly. "Prince Arthur. You saved his life."

Gwaine could not contain a huffed chuckle of contempt, and muttered, "If I'd known who he was, I probably wouldn't have." He sat up all the way and situated the pillow he'd been laying on in a way to better supported his back, then elaborated when he saw Merlin's puzzled expression. "He's a noble.

Merlin nodded in a way that showed he understood what the other man meant, but wasn't necessarily in agreement. "Yeah, but he's a good man."

Gwaine scoffed, but decided against arguing with him. "If you say so."

The lanky man ignored his comment, instead turning to him with a look of delight, and said, "You're a hero. The king wants to thank you in person."

At that moment, Gwaine had been taking a sip of the water Merlin had brought with him on the tray, and startled, accidentally inhaling the water and subsequently making his throat burn. "Please - no. I've met a few kings." He returned the small cup to its tray. "Once you've met one, you've met them all."

"He'll probably give you a reward."

"I'm not interested." He popped a grape from a bowl into his mouth. "'Sides, I've got everything I need," he turned to his duffle bag and patted the old leather, "right here."

Merlin opened his mouth, but didn't appear to know what to say, so settled on, "Why did you help us?"

Gwaine grinned at this, fixing his arms behind his head, just now noticing his nude torso. He blinked, looking back to Merlin. "Your chances were between slim and none," he said, settling onto the pillow and grinning smugly. "I, uh - I guess I just kinda liked the look of those odds."

Merlin gave a soft snort of disbelief, but still, he smiled.

When Merlin had left the room (which he had later told Gwaine was his), Gwaine sat on the edge of the bed facing towards the window. He pulled on his boots that lay next to his other belongings, and then tugged on his loose shirt.

At the bells ringing outside, he got up and moved to the window, opening it with a pop. At once he realized just how high up he was, in some sort of tower that connected to the rest of the castle, gazing out of the city that he reckoned was probably much like any other he'd been to.

Not that he'd ever really had a view like this.

Citizens of Camelot bustled about their day, buying and selling their goods, completing their duties, and just generally going about their daily business as they would on any other day.

He smiled, loving the simplicity of it all, and decided he would take a closer look around. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and he certainly wasn't going to just sit around here all day.

With that, he made his way out of Merlin's room, down a couple stairs into what could only be the physician's chambers, through the door, and found his way around the maze of the castle hallways, until finally he was out into the courtyard.

He grinned and nodded to anyway who made eye contact, even bowing slightly to any man or woman who might catch his fancy.

One girl in particular caught his eye. A serving girl by the looks of the basket in her arms and the white pinafore she wore over her purple dress. She had dark skin, and her curly hair was pulled slightly back from her face, and she had a look in her brown eyes that intrigued her to Gwaine.

She passed him by without a glance, making Gwaine pause. Another girl passed with a basketful of flowers, which made Gwaine's decision for him, really. He took a small, white flower from the many varieties to choose from, and jogged back the way he'd come.

"I believe this belongs to you."

The girl turned as he reached her, not appearing to be particularly impressed. "I don't think so," she said, looking to the flower he held. "It's not my color."

She tried to move past him, but Gwaine was not deterred so easily.

"Ah, let us see."

The girl stopped and stared as Gwaine settled the short stem of the flower behind her ear so only the soft petals were on display.

"I bet you've got a whole bunch of those to hand out," she said when Gwaine had moved back to admire his work. She still didn't look to be affected by his charm, though.

"No," he denied, lifting his hands to show her he held no others. "Your's is the only one."

She only chuckled, and once more tried to pass him, but again he stopped her, grabbing ahold of her hand, which he noticed was callous and rough from hard labor and a lot of work. He admired her even more. "I'm Gwaine."

The girl only shook his hand, once, and then tried to pull back. Gwaine stubbornly held on. "You haven't told me your name."

The girl sighed.

"You look like a princess to me," he went on, "so it's probably something like Sophia or Esmeralda." He smirked. "That's it. Princess Esmeralda." He gave a deep bow, still keeping his hold on her hand.

She started to look slightly overwhelmed - only slightly - and glanced around at the small audience they'd gathered with their display. "Stop it. People are staring."

Gwaine tilted his head, smug, and said, "Not until you tell me your name."

"It's Gwen."

"There." Gwaine smiled, straightening. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Gwen looked exasperated, still trying to move around him, but Gwaine halted her gently. "Let me carry that," he said, indicating the basket she was holding. "A princess shouldn't have to lump her washing around."

"Unfortunately, I'm not a princess," she returned mildly.

"Ah, but you see - you are to me."

Her expression twisted into one of surprised amusement, and she allowed herself a short laugh, turning her head away. She quickly turned back to him though, obviously trying not to grin and show what she really though of his 'charm'.

"This isn't working, is it?"

"No, not really," Gwen shook her head. Though at least now she was smiling. "But I like that you tried, and that you know when to give up."

She chuckled, and retrieved the flower from her hair. "You better have this," she said, handing it back to him. "In case someone else takes your fancy."

He took it back as she walked away, his gaze never leaving her form. "I've only eyes for you!"

She didn't slow her pace, hardly even turning around. "I'm sure."

It was clear she didn't believe him. Gwaine couldn't help grinning as she walked away, putting the flower stem to his lips and biting down, smiling around the delicate petals.

Gwen.

He liked her. Almost as much as he was coming to like Merlin.

He turned and went on his way, the path paved with dirt and surrounded by vendors. The air was hot and mucky, and the farther he went, the more crowded it got.

Gwaine wasn't one for staying in the same place for any long length of time, but he'd liked the people he met so far and he wasn't in any hurry to leave.

He had left 'home' when he was but sixteen, dreaming of the many adventures that lay in wait in the big world he'd never before had the chance to explore. It made his decision to leave all the easier once he realized just what a load of 'noble' pricks his family had been. Full of shite, they were, and Gwaine was happy to get away.

He only regretted that he'd had to leave his little brother behind. The only tolerable one of the bunch, really.

He sighed as he reminisced, his hand drifting almost unconsciously to the pendants round his neck. He stroked the sliver charm piece that said brother had given to him when he learned of Gwaine's upcoming departure. In return, Gwaine gave the boy a cheap beaded bracelet he'd won in a gamble at a tavern.

Inevitably, his fingers found their way to the silver band always resting beside the charm. His heart ached as painful memories sprung to the fore of his mind, as they always did when he was reminded of the ring that lay on his chest, so near his heart.

He released his grasp quickly, almost as if he had been burned, shoving the thoughts and memories to a deep, dark corner of his mind so he didn't have to be thinking of them, striding around the city with a forced grin tilting up his lips.

He wandered without purpose, admiring a woman's displayed ware of many different intricately-marked trinkets, colorful beads, assorted stones, and various other baubles. He chatted up an attractive blonde girl, who blushed prettily at his compliments and gave him a handful of blueberries for his troubles. These he popped into his mouth a few at a time, enjoying the tang they left on his tongue. Only once they were gone did he realize how hungry he was.

The sun was high in the sky, and he'd been walking around all afternoon. A little girl selling sweetmeats crossed his path, and Gwaine graciously bought what remained in her small bag with a few of the coins he always carried around with him.

Drained, and with his wounded leg starting to ache to high heaven, Gwaine thought it a good time to get a drink.

He stopped two handsome men about to pass by him - one giant of a man who wore a passive, non-threatening expression, and another with ruffled hair and kind brown eyes - and asked for the best place to go to find a good cup of mead.

He was delighted to find that they both seemed intrigued by him, politely pointing him in the direction of The Rising Sun, which was apparently 'Camelot's finest'.

Gwaine thanked them, and proceeded the way they'd directed him, filing their faces to memory in case he should ever see them again.

Once he was inside the tavern - that admittedly didn't look much different from any other, save for the red and gold banners adorning the walls - Gwaine ordered himself a drink.

And another one.

And another one.

And another.

Soon he was tipsy and swaying slightly, guffawing loudly with the fellas surrounding him as he told them of his many misadventures, buying them all drink after drink without a thought to the fact that he couldn't possibly afford them.

He had the place roaring by the time he was positively drunk off his arse, arm thrown around some guy's broad shoulders to keep him from collapsing. Even with the massive hangovers he got the mornings after his wild nights, he never really regretted his actions.

That is, until Merlin was suddenly in front of him, lips turned down in a frown of disapproval.

As he did this sort of thing all the time, Gwaine really couldn't justify why the expression had him feeling so disappointed in himself.