Title: Worst Kept Secrets
Author: Peach
Rating: T
Warnings: None, really. Don't even think there's any swearing this time. No, actually, there is, but nothing major.
Disclaimer: If I had sufficient talent to have any part in producing a TV series, do you really think I'd be posting fics on here?
Messages: Hmm. This is, I believe, looking to be about twelve parts long (plus the prologue), provisionally. Thanks to HELEN and NonyMouse (love the name) for reviewing anonymously, and to fictitiousshore who signed in to review but has PMs disabled and so didn't get a reply. As always, corrections are much appreciated, along with anything else people want to say. Until next time, Peach.
Worst Kept Secrets - Chapter Three
Merlin isn't there to watch training in the morning. Arthur comes over to yell at Gwaine for getting the idiot – Arthur's words, not Gwaine's – so drunk he forgets to show up for work in the morning, then is surprisingly apologetic when Gwaine tells him Merlin stayed home last night.
When he still hasn't seen Merlin by mid-afternoon, Gwaine goes to Gaius', who tells him Merlin hasn't left his room yet today, that his door is locked, and that he doesn't want to wake the poor lad – again, not Gwaine's phrase – when he's been so busy lately.
Gwaine thinks the matter over for a minute, decides his concern overrides his compunctions, and hammers on Merlin's door. It takes far more banging and shouting than he is happy with to get a reply, and Merlin's voice is groggy when it comes.
"Gaius? What is it?"
"It's Gwaine, mate. 'S the matter?"
There is another moment of silence, and Gwaine almost expects the door to open. It doesn't.
"Oh." Merlin finally says. "It's nothing, I'm just not feeling too great. Don't worry, and tell Arthur I'll be back tomorrow."
And that is that.
X
On the second day of Merlin's absence, Leon asks Gwaine what the problem is. Gwaine shrugs.
He goes by Merlin's room again, only to hear that Merlin still isn't feeling well. He asks Gaius if Merlin is eating. Gaius replies that a hunk of bread and a few apples vanished overnight, so he assumes so.
X
Day three, Gwaine asks Lance to check on Merlin, in the hope that he'll get a more detailed response, but apparently he has to be somewhere else very quickly, so Gwaine sends Elyan instead.
The door still doesn't open.
X
Gwaine is really rather worried by day four. He follows Arthur when he goes to talk to Merlin, thinking good, someone Merlin will have to open the door to.
But he doesn't. Gwaine sees the concern flit over Arthur's face as they both stand at the bottom of the steps to Merlin's room. Gaius has left them alone, thinking perhaps the absence of adult supervision (well, mature adult supervision, since they are none of them children, no matter how young they act) will convince Merlin to talk.
"Open the door, Merlin," the prince growls, lurks for a minute or two, then sighs huffily and storms away.
Gwaine waits 'til his footsteps are gone before pressing his ear to the door. He doesn't knock himself, doesn't think Merlin will appreciate knowing someone has heard his muffled sobs.
He sits there for over an hour, until the sobs turn into snuffly breaths that Gwaine knows mean Merlin is asleep, before finally leaving, his heart heavy.
X
The fifth day is a Wednesday, market day, which means the knights train in the afternoon rather than the morning, so Gwaine doesn't have a chance to try reach Merlin until early evening.
When he gets there, he finds Lancelot begging a locked door for forgiveness, promising he will never do it again. He hears something heavy hit the door, and realises he hasn't seen Gwen at training since the day Merlin refused to go drinking with him, despite the fact that she usually stops by at least every other day, even if only for a minute or two. It could be accounted for by general busyness every other day, but Gwaine knows she has market days off: she can't have been too busy today.
He whispers a string of expletives under his breath and kicks himself for his stupidity. This is his doing, he knows it. Not that he can admit to it, apologise, or ask Gwen, Lance or Merlin what has happened.
He drinks some place other than their usual tavern that night, a total dive, and cannot remember anything following his eighth flagon.
X
Gwaine wakes far too early on day six, his head pounding worse than he can recall it ever being before, sandwiched between two warms bodies. He hunts furiously for his trousers in the room he doesn't know (plain, no crests on the walls, so not a noble's, but not one of the single room houses in the lower town either), before realising that he is still wearing them, and his shirt, and both the girls are fully dressed as well.
Gwaine leaves before they regain consciousness, returning to his room to wash...something from his hair (he knows it is not vomit, blood or excrement, human or animal, but other than that he has no idea). He hides under foul-smelling sheets – Merlin was right, they really do need changing – until Leon knocks on and then opens the door, yelling that one person locking themselves away is more than enough and he needs someone reliable present in case Gwen shows up.
This, the first overt mention either of them has made of the Arthur-Gwen-Lancelot situation (and the first time anyone has ever considered Gwaine to be reliable) is enough to shock Gwaine from his guilt and self-pity. He washes and dresses while Leon waits outside, then, as they walk, listens gratefully as the senior knight tells him that Percival went to see Merlin early this morning. Perce apparently got not only an "I'm fine, just sick" but also a "thank you for your concern" and a "sorry for the trouble I'm causing" from the other side of the locked door.
Gwaine spends the day flitting from elation at these signs of Merlin's recovery to anger at himself and everyone else because Merlin has some sort of situation to recover from in the first place. As a result he spends the morning mucking out the stables after calling Lancelot a disloyal ignoramus in front of Arthur (which he deserves, because Lancelot would never have done whatever it is he won't do again with Guinevere if Gwaine hadn't pushed him into it). His afternoon is whiled away in the stocks for calling Arthur a condescending, rude, stupid, blond prat in front of the king (which he deserves even more for his failure to notice that Uther was there and it's really only the fact that he said nothing worse than "prat" that allows him to keep his head where it's supposed to be).
By the time he has finished washing unidentified substances from his hair for the second time that day, it is too late for Gwaine to check on Merlin, so he changes his sheets and goes to sleep stone cold sober for once.
X
The seventh day, Gwaine decides, will be the last. Today, he will fix what he broke.
He goes to training willingly and follows all orders for once. Rather than reassure anyone, this just garners looks of suspicion. Afterwards he visits the lower town and spends a couple of hours purchasing Merlin's favourite foods and several bottles of wine (and what sort of shop keeps wine next to apples?). He then proceeds to tidy his chambers until he is rudely interrupted by four knights, a smirking prince and a richly dressed maidservant (the start of a bad joke if ever he heard one).
The comparison with pre-date behaviour does not occur to Gwaine until they ask him who the lucky lady ("or lad," Percival adds, showing himself to be far more observant than they all thought) is, mostly because Gwaine has never actually had a date.
He tells them there is neither lad nor lady great enough to contain his passionate, free-spirited soul, he just couldn't abide living in such filth any longer, and aren't they there for a reason anyway? Bizarrely enough, no one questions this blatant defensiveness.
When the seven of them walk uninvited into Gaius' home, they find the old man telling Merlin's door that supper is on the table and will it please eat it while it is hot today rather than in the middle of the night. The door does not reply, and neither does Merlin, who they assume to be the true target of Gaius' words.
Arthur shouts. Lancelot begs. Gwen's timid voice (Gwen, timid? Gwaine realises again just how truly he has fucked up, because Gwen is rarely less than self-assured, although he has heard she used to be) pleads. Leon asks nicely and respectfully for Merlin to leave his room, please. Elyan tells jokes. Finally, Gwaine says, "open the bloody door, Merlin, or Percival will knock it down." He doesn't, and Gaius looks alarmed as Percival orders everyone to stand well back before charging.
The door splinters on the first hit, falling on the second. Gaius' face moves from alarmed to appalled, although his eyebrows lower slightly when Arthur promises that a replacement will be paid for (Gwaine suspects the one paying will be him).
Merlin emerges, looking simultaneously sheepish and annoyed. He returns Gwen's hug stiffly and nods at Lancelot. They both relax subtly enough that Gwaine thinks he is the only one who notices.
Arthur claps Merlin on the shoulder and says, "come on, then, idiot." They troop out, Leon promising they'll keep an eye on Merlin, get him a proper hot meal, at which Gaius laughs but looks grateful anyway.
X
Gwen leaves them between the end of the meal and the arrival of their first drinks, Elyan walking her home. Arthur stays for only two drinks, while Percival is booming by the end of his third and is taken back to the castle by a mirthful Sir Leon. Lance would usually head back with the others, but he clearly wants to talk to Merlin, so Gwaine obligingly heads to the bar for another round.
He chats with the barmaid for a bit – the youngest of the three sisters, if he remembers correctly – until she says, "they're your friends, right? Could you sort that out before my father has to, please?"
Gwaine turns to see Lance and Merlin struggling over a knife. "Shit. Sorry," he says, scooping up their drinks. He hurries over, realising as he does so that this is not a fight, as such. After all, Lance is far stronger, yet the blade seems to be hovering over his wrist: a blood oath, he thinks. Gwaine plonks the drinks down on the table, their contents sploshing over slightly.
"That's enough of that," he states quietly, plucking the knife from their suddenly still hands. He tucks it into his belt, next to his own dagger (Camelot may be the closest thing to a home he's had since he became old enough to realise his house was nothing more than that, but he still isn't comfortable wandering around unarmed).
"Gwaine," Lancelot says, "I need that."
"Really?" he replies. "Because Merlin didn't look all that keen on you waving a knife around."
"But I-"
"You love her. I understand," Merlin interrupts, resuming what Gwaine assumes is the conversation he left to allow them to have. Lancelot's gaze flicks briefly away from Merlin's then returns, the look on his face that of a man about to face a punishment he has long resigned himself to – so long resigned to it, in fact, that he seems relieved by its proximity.
There is a flash, immediately followed by a crash of thunder, so close as to be almost simultaneous. Gwaine jumps – he is sure the sky had been clear for miles around before they came into the tavern, and there has barely been a breath of wind all day – and Lance's eyes widen slightly (more alarmed than afraid, Gwaine thinks), but Merlin looks unruffled as he continues speaking. "I truly do understand, Lancelot. But if either of you ever do anything that will hurt Arthur again, you will regret it. I swear it, on the sun and moon, on earth, air, fire and water."
A second lightning flash follows this speech, no further away than the first, and a gust of wind blows, splattering raindrops against the windows and causing candles across the room to flicker slightly. Gwaine sways, clearly drunker than he thought he was, because he feels (with a level of absolute certainty only copious quantities of alcohol can produce) that it is more the floor's fault for moving than any weakness of his limbs. He sits down, figuring that if his lack of balance is due to alcohol, sitting will solve the problem, and if it is actually the case that the ground has some sort of grudge against him, at least he won't have quite so far to fall.
Merlin's seriousness is gone almost as soon as he finishes speaking, a grin appearing on his face so quickly that Gwaine momentarily forgets to breathe; it is not that Merlin's smile is particularly breathtaking, but the transition from the anxious, overworked Merlin of weeks past to this Merlin, who is actually happy, is something to see. Lance seems almost as changed by this unusual oath, calmer, his sins forgiven but not forgotten. He raises his drink to Merlin then drains it.
"Right," he says, standing. "I shall go now. I truly am sorry, Merlin. You do not know how much."
Merlin only nods in reply, still smiling.
"Haven't heard that oath before," Gwaine says, when the door has closed behind the other knight.
Merlin blinks, as if only just realising the exchange between him and Lance has been witnessed. "Ah, yes. It's old, very old, and not used often. But it was necessary." This last part is said with an alarming level of conviction. "I suppose you want to know what all this" – he makes a vague motion that Gwaine interprets as representing the week of worrying he has just endured, the peculiarities of this evening, and the presiding cause of it all – "was about, don't you?"
"Hmm," he replies, trying to agree without sounding overly curious or revealing how much of the whole mess is his fault. "Gwen and Lance, right?" That doesn't seem too unreasonable a realisation to reach; anyone with eyes knows Lance loves her, and their behaviour of the last week has been pretty damning. "You caught 'em, then spent the last week avoiding us all, trying to decide whether or not to tell Arthur, yeah?"
"You got all the important parts, yes." Merlin smiles, his eyes full of a peculiar sort of relief. "You probably want a few more details, though, don't you?"
Gwaine thinks about declining, even if he is desperately interested in just what Merlin saw, but the other man seems to be genuinely hoping for the opportunity to unburden himself. "Wouldn't say no," he laughs.
Merlin spends the next hour putting story-flesh on the bare-bones-facts Gwaine knows. He tells Gwaine of returning from running errands for Gaius and going to hunt for Arthur. Of finding Arthur to be in counsel with the king, and so going to tidy the rendezvous room for lack of anything better to do. Of finding Gwen and Lance on the way there, her hands inside his shirt, his right in her hair and left at the ties on the back of her dress. Of the tongues in each other's mouths, the way they wrench apart at the sound of Merlin's startled gasp, guilt making a mockery of their pretty faces.
"And they both open their mouths but I, I don't know, I just can't. So I run to the woods – that's where I was coming back from when you saw me. And I suppose you know the rest."
"You didn't think to talk to anyone, did you?" Gwaine asks, but it isn't really a question: of course Merlin didn't even consider talking about it. "Obviously, Arthur and those two and Elyan weren't an option, but you could've said something to me. Or Leon, for that matter; you can't pretend you haven't seen us trying to keep them apart whenever Gwen's around. Can't you find some way to keep her away, anyway, at least when there's sharp objects around?"
"I've tried. She's bored. With Morgana gone, her tasks are assigned by anyone with seniority, but they're all uncomfortable about giving orders to the woman who will be their queen. She has nothing to do." Merlin smiles, sadly. "I couldn't talk to you, though. I'd have liked to, but...there's something else. You and Leon know the thing with Lancelot and Gwen is there, but..."
"But what?" Gwaine asks, when it becomes apparent Merlin is not finishing that sentence any time soon. "But we don't know about you? Your feelings? Kind of do, actually. Well, don't think Leon does, probably, but I know. You love him. Arthur." Merlin's face has gotten steadily paler through that declaration (and he wasn't all that colourful to begin with) and has reached the point where Gwaine is fairly sure he'll be able to see straight through him if he squints hard enough. Then Merlin thunks his head onto the table, directly into the small pool of beer left when Gwaine put the drinks down too quickly in order to get the knife away from them. He lifts it back up again immediately, wiping his face on his sleeve with a grimace.
"Tact's not really your strong point, is it, Gwaine?" he mumbles, not quite making eye contact.
Gwaine is a little offended, because he is quite sure that if a situation ever required him to be tactful he'd be just fine at it. He just hasn't met such a situation. He is about to say so, when he realises that Merlin's bottom lip is trembling a little and his eyes are suspiciously bright. "Hey, stop that. 'S not like I'm gonna tell anyone. And I don't really care who you love. I'm hardly in a position to judge, am I?" Because he knows, how could he not, what the others think of him, what people say when they think he's not listening. "Would've told you I knew, mate, but – well, it's not really something you can just come out and say, is it? Wouldn't want someone, even a friend, to just up and tell me that he knows I'm in love with – knows I'm in love. If I was in love with someone, which, you know, I'm not." Gwaine's mouth seems set to continue in this vein for some time, but his brain tells it forcefully to shut the bloody hell up and, mercifully, it does.
Merlin smiles at him in a slightly confused manner, and is somewhat less pale than he was before Gwaine's embarrassing, almost revealing monologue. Thinking this counts as a definite success, Gwaine drains his pint and asks "'nother one?" Merlin nods, and seems about to stand, so Gwaine claps him on the shoulder and says, "stay, I got it."
They don't mention love, or the Arthur-Gwen-Lancelot problem again, just drink in a companionable near-silence, stumbling up to Gwaine's room when they get cut off.