A/N: Thanks again for your continued support and reviews! Thanks especially to OceanNeil who asked where Merlin was, which made us realize we hadn't been clear enough about that! Merlin's on Arthur and Gwen's honeymoon (yes, that's supposed to sound awkward), and we've now updated the first chapter to make that more clear (and don't worry, he will show up!). Thanks for reading!

Leon didn't often go in for hyperbole, and generally reckoned himself to be somewhat on the literal side. So when he thought that Gwaine would have a better time dealing with fresh recruits than he would chatting it up with the most distinguished wedding guests, his assessment wasn't far wrong.

That afternoon Leon played the host, offering his services to the most important guests staying in the castle, and subtly hinting that they ought to start thinking of packing their bags. It was expensive to keep guests at Camelot, and Arthur expressed a wish that they leave as soon as possible after the wedding. Guests of high nobility often came to Camelot, and so Leon was used to performing this kind of duty. To stay in Camelot generally cost the guests a lot of money, too. Of course, the problem with the really prestigious guests was that they felt they didn't have to pay, either.

There was a running joke around Camelot that Leon, being the prince's second in command and thus apparently subject to every nobleman's order, was the castle dogsbody. But he didn't mind so much. A life in Camelot was what his parents always hoped for him, and that alone was enough for Leon to pledge his life to the kingdom and its people. And a job does not make a knight, a knight makes a job. He performed this job so well that sometimes he could convince a newer knight to do it for him. That only worked once or twice—getting guests to hoof it could really be that bad. But it always surprised him how far "please," "thank you," and "my lord" could go to making the task easier.

Lord Bernard's servant didn't treat him with any respect as he waited to see the nobleman, but foreign servants usually didn't. The servant probably hadn't even attended the wedding, and as Leon waited in the front room of the spacious guest chambers he went back to his task of polishing boots. Eventually the lord called from the next room, and Leon entered and bowed.

"Ah, it's Sir Leon, isn't it? Come in!" Lord Bernard beamed, closing the door behind Leon. He was a thick-set man with wild dark hair and a large black beard to match. He had apparently been playing a game of chess with his daughter Elaine, who was sitting by the window looking very pretty in a green dress with her dark hair cascading over one shoulder. She caught him staring and he blushed, and tried to get down to business.

"I was just checking to see if you required anything, my lord," he said.

"Oh, no, my lad—thank you, though! I'm sure Marvin can take care of anything we might need."

"Marvin, my lord?"

"The dark chap! Always trotting about after the King."

"Oh, perhaps you mean Merlin, my lord? He left last night to accompany the King and Queen on their honeymoon. If you need any assistance, my lord, you need only to send for me. Your horses can be made ready within the hour you request them."

"Within the hour? Your King certainly knows how to run a kingdom! Well—what's your name again, lad?"

"Leon, my lord," Leon said, careful to pronounce it clearly. Despite his best efforts he glanced at Elaine again. Was she frowning?—Or just trying very hard not to smile?

"Well, Leon, we thank you for your generosity, but don't you worry about us calling the horses and getting your stable boys in a fluster. We certainly won't be leaving for a good while yet, not until Elaine here has had her fill of shopping in the town!"

Leon's heart caught in his throat. Should he? Dare he? "Well, my lord, if your daughter requires a companion for such a venture, I could—"

"—I'm sure you could find me a lad well enough, but as fine a bunch as your knights are I wouldn't trust them within ten yards of my daughter! Besides, I could do with some of this fresh Camelot air."

Suddenly Elaine spoke up. "You shouldn't want to catch a cold, father," she said. "You do get cold so very easily."

"True, true," Lord Bernard said. "There's something you could do—nip down and get me a nice walking cloak. Nothing too fancy, though I can't abide wool. It'll have to be something softer, but not too light."

Leon's heart sank, but he said, "Of course, my lord," with usual sincerity, and bowed himself out. Buying a cloak for a man who could perfectly well get one himself no matter what his daughter said wasn't as bad as some of the jobs he'd been given.

As he left Lord Bernard's chamber, his vision was suddenly obscured by a pile of clothes.

"Oh, and just take the laundry on your way out," the servant said as the clothes fell in disarray at his feet. "There's a good lad."

Leon blinked, and looked down to be sure he was wearing his livery. The servant sneering at him had no livery at all. For a moment he felt like kicking the clothes back at him, and informing the servant of his noble blood and that he could do his own bloody laundry. But even as he thought it a pang of guilt went through him. He scooped up the clothes and left, feeling that "Camelot's dogsbody" was a fairly accurate description. With the kinds of jobs he took, he was certainly some kind of dog…

As much as Gwaine would have longed to just observe the knights climbing, like tiny ants, up the Camelot walls from his favorite window-seat at The Rising Sun, ticking them off with a merry "he passes!" as they reached the top, he knew it would be infinitely more satisfying to actually beat them to the top.

Not to mention the godawful whining he'd have to endure if he didn't participate!

Actually Sir Ector was clipping along at a steady pace, having monopolized a lucky crack in the stonework where handholds were easier. Elyan wasn't far behind him, and Percival close behind both. And Lancelot, for all his whinging, was keeping pretty good pace with Gwaine, tied for fourth place.

But Gwaine was pretty certain he could beat him out when they reached the second line of windows. That was, of course, providing there were no distractions.

Like, say, an attractive noblewoman in a state of undress, perfectly observable through one of these windows. Woman!-Girl, rather! She could hardly be legal! Auburn hair cascaded down her bare back as she shook it out, the longest curl turning up just at the dimples on her hips-and what hips! And such a lovely little waist! Didn't Camelot have laws limiting an individual's attractiveness? He was sure that was why he'd been banished the first time. No matter.

Ooh! Bath time!

"You coming, Gwaine? Ector's almost at the top!" Lancelot puffed, passing him at another window.

Gwaine, forgetting himself, barked out a laugh as if to say "You've got to be joking!" Then many things happened more or less at once, but in a specific order:

First, Elyan had pressed on past Ector and reached the flag, so a chorus of cheers went up from the onlooking knights. Next, by luck or perhaps from the force of the shouts, the visor on his helmet, which had been giving him trouble for some time, became unhinged and slipped down over his face. Just in time, because that was when the attractive young lady turned and saw him in this admittedly compromising position.

Then she screamed.

And Gwaine didn't so much fall as let go, knowing how much more preferable it was to deal with cold hard unforgiving earth than it was to deal with nursemaids and fathers protecting a young girl's honor.

And he could blame it on instinct that he craned his neck to get one last peek.

He might have reconsidered if he'd bothered to look behind him, as on his descent he clipped not just one but two ledges and broke through at least three awnings. It was probably convenient that they were there-he was higher up than he thought-but when he finally landed, flat on his back, he was bruised, battered, winded, and not at all sorry.

Knights were repelling, sliding, climbing down the castle walls en masse now, and although Lancelot's controlled decent landed him somewhere very near Gwaine's head, he couldn't summon the energy to care just yet.

Over his groan, he heard a voice.

"Hey!" Lancelot said to him, "How'd you get down here so fast?"

"What do you think?"

Leon held up an classic-style gray cloak in front of him, and watched Gaius's face closely. Gwen might have helped him out in this situation, but since she was gone he found himself at Gaius's apothecary for advice.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. "You aren't that old, Leon."

"It's for Lord Bernard."

"Oh! Then, yes-very nice. Wouldn't mind having one myself."

"You'll be hard-pressed to find one like this." He held it out for Gaius to feel. "It's rabbit fur."

"So it is! It's not many a man who could make such a distinction—you're going to make a fine catch for a lady someday!"

Leon chuckled and started folding up the cloak. Gaius went back to his potions-or so it appeared.

"…Lord Bernard's daughter, for instance. She's very pretty, isn't she? Not so flashy as Morgana was, but she has real noble bearing."

"Er-yes, she does."

"Now, she'd make a fine catch. I hear she's very charming, should you get to know her…"

Leon looked up. "What are you suggesting?"

Gaius rolled his eyes. "Now, Leon, I know you're old enough to understand that. You ought to be settling down, you know. I think Lady Elaine could make you very happy—"

"I'll consider it," he said, more as something to end that line of conversation.

Gaius only shrugged. "How are you and Gwaine getting on?"

"Like a house on fire." Leon glanced out the window, where he saw Gwaine and the knights fooling about in the courtyard. "I'm in charge of the castle, though—so if you need anything, just let me know."

"Of course, Sir Leon," Gaius said, with somewhat feigned submission. "Though I wouldn't say that too loudly."

"Why not?"

"It's a big responsibility, watching out for a kingdom. You and Gwaine should work together."

"Arthur would not have appointed me if he did not think I was up to the task."

"Hmm. Lord Bernard's looking for you, by the way."

"Oh, I'd better get this cloak to him, then. Thanks, Gaius."

Gaius nodded vaguely as he left the apothecary. Lord Bernard, in fact, was coming down the hall toward him.

"Sir Leon! Just the man I wanted to see!" Lord Bernard boomed. Leon shied a little but pulled the cloak out quickly.

"Here is your cloak, my lord," he said, smiling hopefully. "See—it's not wool, its rabbit fur, and—"

"Enough of cloaks!"

Leon lowered the cloak. "Yes, my lord."

"Cloaks is not what I wish to speak to you about!"

Leon could feel his grin fading. "No, my lord?"

"No!" Lord Bernard suddenly wheeled around. "I will see you in the throne room, if I may! It is somewhat delicate in nature!"

"Ah. Right."

And Leon led the way, his mind racing.

Who did I leave I charge while I was gone? No one. I didn't think anyone needed to be in charge for one bloody afternoon!

Wait. Gwaine was in charge.

Damn.