IV. Gwaine and the Knights

Gwaine always found Merlin's expressions funny, but today's bewilderment was especially hilarious. In Merlin's defence, he supposed, one normally wouldn't find a bunch of knights crowding into a millet storage room in order to confront a hapless manservant. No matter. It was happening anyway. 'Tis Camelot, the land of (ridiculous) miraculous happenings, and whatnot.

"Merlin, I think it's time you stopped monopolising our little princess," Gwaine announced.

"We haven't had the pleasure of his presence at training even once, and we all miss him terribly," was Lancelot's argument.

Leon, Elyan, and Percy said something to the same effect as well, but Gwaine stopped paying attention the minute he spotted tiny fists emerging from behind a large millet sack. He crouched down next to the sack and peeped into the crack between the hessian and the wall.

"H'lo, there," he said.

Arthur stared at him, chin wobbling, tears shining in his wide eyes: the very picture of angelic despair. Merlin sighed. He raised placatory hands to the rest of the knights and told Gwaine, "He's throwing a fit because I didn't let him ride a horse by himself."

Arthur looked stubborn, angry, and ready to start bawling. "I can do it," he insisted to Gwaine. "Merlin's being a clotpole. I'm king and I said I can do it!"

Merlin sighed, folding his arms. "You can't get onto the saddle even with a stool, Arthur. I did offer to ride with you, y'know."

Arthur crept towards Gwaine. "Wainy, tell him he's a clotpole."

Gwaine grinned, taking the hand Arthur proffered him and gently pulling him out. "Can't do that, love. Merls is making sense for once."

Arthur sniffled. Merlin knelt beside Gwaine, and the other knights knelt beside Merlin—no one, no one could bear to see their little king upset. Merlin took Arthur's other hand.

"Now, you'll be able to ride all the horses you want when you're older, yeah?" Merlin said, softly squeezing Arthur's hand. Arthur nodded.

"'Kay," he whispered.

Gwaine wasn't mistaking the look of utter relief on Merlin's face just then.

"Sire, would you like to join all of us for a spot of sparring?" Leon asked. Arthur perked up.

"With swords?" he asked.

"And maces and lances, too," Elyan promised. Gwaine rather thought two was too early to begin to teach him the art of (state-sponsored slaughter) defence against enemy soldiers, but he reckoned Uther had probably been even worse.

Arthur's tears dried and he eagerly clambered up Percy's side to sit on his shoulders. Of all the knights, Arthur had taken a real shine to Percival, openly in awe of his tree-trunk arms and his height. Gwaine thought it was unfair; he himself had the best hair and beard of the lot but no, Arthur wouldn't care for those, would he? Not like he'd had a penchant for growing beards when he'd been his usual princessy self.

"Merlinnie," Arthur said, growing more and more gleeful as Percy slowly got to his feet and lifted Arthur into the air. "I'm going with them."

"Have fun, sire," Merlin said, eyes crinkling as he smiled. He looked tired enough to be a living corpse. Gwaine hung back as Elyan, Lance, and the rest left the storage room. Merlin caught his eye and grinned.

"Never a dull moment," he said.

"Merls, you all right?"

"'Course," Merlin answered. "It's just that he keeps me on my feet every minute of every day. Just like he used to."

Gwaine waited, putting on an infuriatingly knowing look that he knew (heh) Merlin couldn't help responding to. And as inevitably as summer follows spring, Merlin caved.

"It's just hard, all right? I never knew Arthur liked me so much."

"Then you're the only one who didn't, mate," Gwaine said.

"And then sometimes I find myself wishing he'd stay like this just a bit longer," Merlin sighs. "Because I just know he's going to be even worse of an ass than before when he turns back because he's a prat and this'll all be very embarrassing for him. And also because I won't be able to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair or hear him say love you, Merlinnie or blow raspberries at me—"

"You never know," Gwaine says, singsong, giving Merlin a brief one-armed hug. "Go on and get some rest, you look like you haven't slept properly in ages." Three weeks, to be precise.

"Got to make a few potions for Gaius," Merlin says, smiling. "See you later, Gwaine."


Knights' training went rather well, all things considered. Leon completely forgot he was supposed to actually be teaching flashy new moves to the knights (since their regular teacher was out of commission) and everybody indulged themselves, pulling out all the stops to entertain their tiny guest.

Gwaine hadn't known Elyan was such a great actor, going down from one glance of Arthur's wooden sword and making the (worst) most hilarious dying speech he'd ever heard. Percy was no better, making exaggerated groans of pain and surrendering in a second. And Caradoc (who'd apparently completely lost it a week or so ago because Arthur'd given him the slip and went off to search for Merlin) just helped Arthur into extremely lightweight mail that all the knights had chipped in towards.

Well, they all had loved adult Arthur and were ready to die for him. It was natural that the two-year-old toddler giggling and screaming and flailing wildly, while everyone watched with the fondest gaze, would wring every drop of avuncular adoration from them.

Stick-in-the-mud Lance was the only one actually teaching Arthur to hold a sword properly. The surprise was that Arthur paid attention and genuinely tried to learn.

Gwaine himself just basked in the sun, taking full advantage of a rare day off, and poked Arthur in the belly and snored loudly whenever Arthur wobbled over to him asking about 'Merlinnie' and his whereabouts and, "When's Merlin coming, I want to show him I can fight better than ev'ryone!".

Twice Hunith, Merlin's mum (who saw through Gwaine's flirty attentions and just pinched his cheek until he capitulated) interrupted them to whisk Arthur away and bring him back, but all in all, it was a good day.

It was a good day.


Arthur, tired after hours of running around and beating all his knights to a pulp, mumbled gibberish in Gwaine's arms as Gwaine carried him to Gaius's infirmary. Gwaine hummed every now and then to carry on the conversation, and Arthur soon nodded off. He really was a darling. Gwaine had been around a few children in his lifetime, but he calmly accepted that he doted on his little king like he'd never doted on another tot.

Merlin was waiting at the door, and waved at Gwaine as Arthur was passed from one set of arms to another.

"Looks like you lot had fun," Merlin murmured, wiping a thumb across Arthur's dirty chin.

"He wanted to show off his new moves to you," Gwaine said. Merlin beamed, kissing Arthur's crown, doting on Arthur far more than Gwaine ever could. Arthur curled familiarly against the crook of Merlin's elbow.

"Thanks," Merlin said. "Isn't he the tubbiest, most cuddly thing—"

"Careful, your inner mum's showing," Gwaine said, poking Merlin's forehead (the poking thing was growing on him, dammit).

"Night, Gwaine," Merlin said, nudging the door open with his foot. Gwaine winked at him and walked away backwards, watching as Arthur woke up momentarily, only to dozily nuzzle at Merlin and fall right back asleep.

He understood Merlin's wish to have Arthur like this for a while more.

But he suspected Merlin might want his old king back worse.