A/N: I return! With a very Gwaine-centric chapter. The next chapter will be very much about Merlin though. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reviewing!

This chapter is set in between the end of series 4 and the beginning of series 5. I suspect that when I tackle series 5, it will go a little - if not a lot - AU. Because they could have used Gwaine so much better in series 5...

Merlin's fingers squeezed Gwaine's but he didn't say anything, he certainly didn't say what Gwaine hoped he would.

Behind them, the sun set in silence.

Somehow a year and a half passed without Gwaine really noticing it, until it was almost time for the two year anniversary of Arthur's coronation and he realised he had been in Camelot longer than he had ever been anywhere else for years. It was home now, every street strikingly familiar, every face a friend. He had his favourite tavern, his favourite walk, his favourite rides. He had somehow finally settled into his role as a knight, though he had only realised this during a conversation he had had with Arthur during a training session about three months ago.

"Do you know what the people call you?" Arthur asked him, as they sat down after a fierce bout of fighting and watched others take their places. "They call you the People's Knight."

Gwaine frowned at him. "Is this some jibe about me spending too much time in the tavern?"

Arthur shrugged light-heartedly. "That probably has something to do with it. But it also means you are the knight the people of Camelot feel the closest to. They feel that, out of all the knights, they could come to you with a problem and you would be the most likely to listen to them. You are the common people's protector. Their defender, their voice in the court."

Gwaine sat and considered this.

"I think they're right," Arthur said. "Don't you?"

Gwaine said nothing, but thought about it for a long time. It was true that he seemed to spend more time getting to know the other servants in the castle than the other knights did, that he followed their lives more closely, and he certainly knew the regulars in the tavern very well indeed. And yes, a lot of his spare time he spent in the lower town visiting people, either dropping in to say hello and offer a few supplies, or staying for dinner and long, drunken conversations. He liked the lower town, it reminded him of his life before he had settled in Camelot, when he had just been one in a crowd, unimportant and anonymous. He liked it when his status as a knight was ignored by those around him, and felt uncomfortable when it was not.

Sir Gwaine, the People's Knight. He liked the sound of it.

And if he was going to be a knight of anywhere at any time, he was sure Camelot right now was the best time for it. Arthur, although uneasy at first, had then slipped effortlessly into his role as king, and after a while Gwaine realised he had almost forgotten the days when Arthur was a prince. He had always been destined to be king, of course, but it seemed more than that. Maybe he had been a king all along, even in those early days. Arthur was a spoilt, stubborn, insensitive prat, but he was also fair and just, and sometimes his new opinions on age-old royal laws and issues of state were practically revolutionary. There were times when Gwaine looked at Arthur and could almost believe Merlin's ramblings that he would unite the land once again. If anyone could do it, Arthur, with his deep sense of righteousness and his willingness to take on other people's opinions, could do it. That charisma that he and Merlin shared, that belief that they could do great things, that pull that made you want to run along with them for the journey, it was still there and it was getting stronger than ever.

Gwaine had always thought that a strong king would make for a strong Merlin, since their lives were so intertwined, but as time went on it seemed that the stronger Arthur got, the weaker Merlin got. The Merlin of old, who would cheerfully get involved in tavern brawls and run around the castle creating havoc, appeared all but gone completely. All that bright confidence seemed somehow dimmed. He didn't even smile that much anymore, and when he did, it was never quite the same as it had been. Gwaine knew, though he suspected no one else even noticed, that there was something on Merlin's mind, something even darker and deeper than murder. It was that secret, Gwaine knew, that unnameable secret, and whatever it was was dragging him silently into the dust. Gwaine could try everything, but it was obvious there was nothing he could to stop it.

So he did the only thing he could, which was carry on and ignore it happening. He was the People's Knight, but before even that, he was Merlin's Knight. So he carried on being charmingly obnoxious and attention-seeking and fun, and Merlin got dragged along with him, sometimes willingly, sometimes not. All Gwaine could do was hope that it helped him, at least a little.

Plus, the sex was always good.

A few months before Arthur's two-year anniversary of his coronation, a gathering of people turned up at the castle. They claimed to be lords and ladies from King Lot's kingdom, in the north, who had replaced Cenred when Morgause had killed him. Arthur admitted them to Camelot, and went away to talk with them for a long time.

Gwaine was summoned later that evening to the room with the round table, to find it was only he, Arthur, and the visitors from Lot's kingdom there.

"Ah," Arthur said, as Gwaine entered. "Gwaine, there you are."

Gwaine blinked at Arthur; he seemed unsettled, a little distraught, though it was barely noticeable.

"My lords and ladies," said Arthur to the visitors. "Maybe I present Sir Gwaine."

Gwaine transferred his gaze to the visitors from Lot. They were all staring intensely at him.

"Oh yes," one said at last, an old, bearded man. "The resemblance is uncanny."

One of the ladies had clasped her hands to her throat. "Oh, he does," she said. "He does very well."

Gwaine felt, for the first time in a very long time, trapped. He wanted to run away, and was shocked by this old feeling. He glanced at Arthur.

"I'm afraid I don't know what this is about," he said tightly, and clasped his hands behind his back to stop them shaking.

"King Lot is dead," Arthur said bluntly. "He left no appointed heir behind him and - "

"And," the woman interrupted. "The kingdom is in ruin. Pretenders to the throne are appearing from nowhere and contesting for the throne. We have travelled to find a real heir, one to stop the disputation once and for all, before the land is torn apart with war."

The urge to flee tripled, but Gwaine bit it down. "I still don't see what this has to do with me," he said.

The woman smiled gently. "You are Lot's son," she said.

Gwaine felt like he had swallowed ice. He glanced hastily at Arthur, but Arthur said nothing, and Gwaine felt suddenly abandoned, lost. "My father," he said firmly, "Was a knight in Caerleon's army. He died serving him."

"That man was not your father," the old man said. "Your father was King Lot. He visited your mother briefly during a campaign near your birthplace and they conceived you."

It was suddenly difficult to breathe. "That's not true," Gwaine said.

"We have witnesses," the man said. "Those who met her, remembered her, knew of the bastard son - you. All Lot's legitimate heirs are dead. You are the only one of his bloodline left."

Gwaine dug his nails into the palm of his hands, clasped behind his back. "My mother wouldn't have done such a thing."

The woman quirked an eyebrow. "Really?" she said.

Gwaine felt a rising outrage, an instinctive urge to defend his mother, but underneath this was a low sinking feeling. His mother had always been flighty, impetuous. She got bored easily. It was lucky, Gwaine had sometimes reflected, that his father had died before she had had the chance to break his heart. And she always, always went for the wrong men. Just look at his step-father.

"She would have told me," he said, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that wasn't true as well. She lied as well as she breathed, his mother.

"If the witnesses were not enough to secure your right to the throne, you yourself are," the man said, apparently blind to Gwaine's distress. "You are the spitting image of the king."

There was no air in the room, none at all.

"We need you," the woman said.

He needed to breathe. "Excuse me," Gwaine spluttered out, and then turned tail and ran for it.

He ran, he didn't know where. He strode through numberless corridors, his mind utterly blank, and only realised where he was when he found himself face to face with Gaius's front door.

He thought briefly about going back, but the thought of his room, dark and lonely, with nothing to distract him, shook him out of it. He knocked, and then entered.

Gaius's chambers were filled with a dim, amber light, and at one of the tables, bent over a bubbling beaker, was not only Gaius but Merlin as well. At the sight of Merlin, Gwaine felt suddenly steadier. He paused irresolutely in the doorway. Merlin and Gaius were intensely focused on whatever the beaker was doing, but both glanced up when the door opened.

Merlin's face split into a smile that was brighter than Gwaine had seen for a while. "Hello," he said.

Gwaine couldn't return the smile. He felt like he'd been hit around the head with a hammer.

Merlin's smile faded. "Gwaine, what is it?" he asked.

Gwaine said the first thing that came to mind. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said.

Merlin sat him down on a bench and took off his cloak for him, and Gaius presented him with a mug of hot tea and put a blanket around his shoulders, and ever so gently they teased the entire story out of Gwaine, bit by bit. It was quite difficult because every time Gwaine said Lot's name, he choked on it. But they got to the bottom of it in the end.

For a while, the three of them sat there in thoughtful silence. Then Gaius slowly got up and went to a pile of books nearby, rifling through them. Merlin reached sideways and squeezed Gwaine's hand while Gaius was distracted.

"It'll be all right," he said, "Even if it is true, you won't have to do anything you don't want to. Arthur will see to that."

Gwaine clung to Merlin's hand, probably a little too hard, but couldn't say anything. Gaius returned, and Merlin surreptitiously recovered his hand.

"Here," said Gaius, and presented the book to Gwaine, open on a certain page. On it was a well drawn picture of a man.

"That is King Lot," said Gaius.

It was like looking into a mirror. Gwaine stared blankly at the page, feeling his heart sink. Almost every feature of that man was the same as his. He had barely anything of his mother about him at all.

"Oh," he heard Merlin say softly beside him.

He slammed the book shut. "I need to know for sure," he said firmly.

There was a thoughtful pause. "You could write to your mother," Merlin suggested. "Ask her for the truth."

Gwaine snorted. "If she knew there was a kingdom up for grabs, she'd say anything, she's such a snob. Ugh." He pushed his face into his hands, wishing desperately that this was some cheese-fuelled nightmare. Maybe he'd wake up in a minute.

He didn't. Instead, Gaius said, "I would suggest that you invite your mother to Camelot. Make her tell you to your face. It is more difficult to lie when you are there in person."

"Definitely," Merlin said, in world-weary tones, but he did not elaborate.

Gwaine chewed on his lip. Even his mother didn't really have the guts to stand in front of everyone, the great King Arthur included, and lie outright. And he would be able to tell if she was. "It's possible," he said quietly. "Thank you, Gaius."

There was a silence. Gwaine realised suddenly that it was late, and he had burst into their quiet evening with his dramas without so much as a 'by your leave' and now that thing they had been watching bubble in the beaker had over-bubbled and turned a weird brown, and he could smell it from here.

"I should probably go," he said, hating the idea.

He felt Merlin and Gaius exchange a quick look over the top of his head. "Stay here for the night," Merlin said. "I think you should."

Gwaine reacted like he did with anything Merlin requested - he folded like a house of cards. "Thanks," he said.

Merlin squeezed his arm with one hand and smiled reassuringly. Gwaine wanted to collapse on his shoulder. Instead he stood and pulled his blanket around his shoulders, gave Gaius a warm nod and retreated to Merlin's room.

Merlin's room was smaller and even more cosy than Gaius's rooms had been, and it felt so quintessentially like Merlin, with his laundry hung up at one end of the room and his randomly scribbled notes littered everywhere, that Gwaine was immediately soothed.

He slipped tiredly into Merlin's neatly made bed, bunching up the pillow under his head, and closed his eyes. Outside, he could hear Merlin and Gaius moving around, and could just catch what they were saying, despite the fact they were whispering.

"You do realise," Gaius said, "That if this claim turns out to be true, Arthur will want Gwaine to take the throne. An alliance between Lot's people and Camelot could help the land tremendously."

"But Gwaine doesn't want it," Merlin said softly. "Surely Arthur will have to consider that."

"He is a king and will have to make a king's decision, Merlin," said Gaius. "Not one as a friend."

There was a long pause. Gwaine realised his heart was thudding anxiously, and curled up in a ball in the bed. "I'm worried Gwaine will run away again," Merlin said at last, sounding odd. "I don't want him to go."

"Nor do we all," Gaius replied diplomatically.

There was silence. Gwaine closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart.

He must have dropped off, because he was woken a little later by Merlin blowing out the candle and crawling into bed beside him. He shifted slightly to give Merlin space.

"Sorry I woke you," Merlin murmured into the dark.

Gwaine twined an arm around Merlin's waist. "I won't go anywhere," he promised quietly.

Merlin's hand squeezed Gwaine's arm, but he said nothing. Gwaine fell asleep again.

To Gwaine surprise and horror, his hastily scribbled message to his mother was instantly replied to, with confirmation that she was coming to Camelot. Gwaine was torn between seeing this as a good sign or a bad sign and eventually decided on the latter. He spent the waiting week doing all his training wrong, getting no sleep and trying to avoid Lot's people as much as he could. This was difficult, because they seemed to be determined to observe him as much as possible, so he spent a lot of time in the lower town, staying with those whom he considered discreet friends, or in the tavern, getting outrageously drunk.

Merlin came and picked him up one drunken evening, after complaints from the landlord reached him. We he arrived, Gwaine was standing on the table and trying to lead the other patrons of the tavern into singing ruder and ruder songs with him. Merlin appeared in the doorway, put his hands on his hips, sighed, then went and helped the momentarily disheartened Gwaine off the table.

They somehow got back to Gwaine's room, though that part was a bit of blur to Gwaine. What he did remember was Merlin carefully helping him out of his clothes and lying him down in the bed, then perching on the edge of the mattress and stroking Gwaine's hair softly in the dim candlelight.

"It will be all right," Merlin told him quietly. "I promise, Gwaine. Everything will be all right."

Gwaine hummed tiredly. "Hope so. 'Cause I'd be a terrible king."

Merlin's smile flickered with the candlelight. "You'd be a fantastic king."

Gwaine snorted. "Did you just miss the part of this evening when I was dancing on a table?"

Merlin's hand was gentle in his hair. "Nevertheless," he said.

Gwaine felt his eyelids droop, soothed in a way he hadn't been for a while. "If I do end up as a king," he murmured, "Will you abandon Arthur and come and serve me?"

There was a long pause, the meaning of which Gwaine failed to properly grasp. Then Merlin's voice said, with an odd sadness, "Shut up, you," and he pressed a light kiss to Gwaine's forehead.

Gwaine fell asleep under the touch of Merlin's lips.

Before the week was up, Gwaine's mother arrived in Camelot. A messenger arrived with the news for him while he was training, and he hastily went to greet her. She was standing in the courtyard, talking to one of the stablehands about her horse. Gwaine hadn't seen her since he had become a permanent knight of Camelot, and the sudden sight of her made his heart twist uncomfortably.

She was tall and willowy in form, with a mass of silvery blonde hair that tumbled around a face which, to Gwaine, never seemed to age. She was flighty and selfish and snobby, but this was the woman who had birthed him. Who had cared for him, protected him, sung sweet lullabies to him when he couldn't sleep, kissed his hurts away. She had her faults, but she was his mother. He loved her dearly.

She smiled when she saw him, and held out her lily white hands in invitation. He ran into her arms, for all the world like he was five years old again.

An assembly containing the people of Lot's kingdom, the knights and Arthur was hastily formed. Gwaine and his mother stood outside the doors, waiting to be summoned. She would not tell Gwaine what she was going to say, but he could read it in her anyway.

"It's true, isn't it," he said.

She turned sad eyes on him. "Oh, my dear son," she replied softly, and pressed his hand to her lips, and then the doors opened and they were summoned in.

"What you say is true," Gwaine's mother said, looking Lot's people in the eye. "The King visited our village briefly during a war campaign. His soldiers were camped not far away. I saw him a few times, and we became close. My husband was away, fighting on the opposing team. It was the battle in which he died. The King and I loved one another. When he left, I discovered I was pregnant with Gwaine. So yes, it is all true. But because Gwaine was an illegitimate child, I did not think it would come to anything, so I stayed silent."

Lot's people nodded and glanced at one another. Arthur nibbled his lip. Gwaine watched his mother carefully as she spoke, but there was no need to. It was quite obvious she was telling the truth.

Arthur and Gwaine met later in his chambers to talk. Merlin was there in the background, silently polishing Arthur's armour. He looked more comfortable in Arthur's chambers than he did anywhere else in the castle, including his own room.

Arthur and Gwaine sat at his table and sipped at wine. "You don't have many of your mother's characteristics," Arthur said, to break the ice.

"He has her warm nature," Merlin argued mildly from across the room. "And her charm."

Gwaine's heart fluttered pathetically. He glanced over to where Merlin sat and smiled at him.

Arthur glared daggers at Gwaine, but all he said was, "Whatever. The question remains, do you think she is telling the truth?"

Gwaine hesitated. If he was another man, he could lie now, say he thought she was, and get away from this entire affair scot free. But he was Gwaine.

"Yes," he said. "I think she is."

Arthur pressed his lips together, but did not look surprised. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

Gwaine paused again. If ever he had a choice between delicacy and honesty, he only ever chosen one way. And Arthur had bothered to ask his opinion.

"I know that you would like me to take up this offer," he replied bluntly. "If I succeeded in taking the throne, that would mean an unshakeable alliance between Lot's kingdom and Camelot. I know that this is what you wish for." He hesitated. "But I do not wish to leave," he decided. "Camelot is my home, and I haven't had a home for a very long time. I love being a knight of the Round Table. I would be loathe to give it up. I feel as though…as though I haven't finished with it yet. In fact, I feel I have barely started. Do you understand?"

Arthur nodded slowly; behind him, Merlin, who had halted in his polishing, unconsciously did the same.

"Well then," Gwaine said, and realised he had no more to say. He wondered if he had been too frank, too honest, but he knew Arthur liked that sort of thing. He was not looking at Gwaine with any kind of scorn.

"It is a shame in more ways than that," Arthur said. "The people of Lot's kingdom suffer. I can think of no one better suited to help them than you. The People's Knight."

An odd ache, previously unnoticed, opened itself inside of Gwaine. He swallowed hard. "Someone else will help them," he replied more confidently than he felt. And since Arthur's expression was still understanding, he ventured to add, "I thought you might order me to go. An alliance - "

"Can be made in many different ways," Arthur interrupted. "Perhaps I will still be able to form an alliance with the man who does take Lot's throne. But I will not force any of my knights to do something they do not wish to do. That horror would not be wiped out even by the best of alliances."

Merlin was now looking at Arthur with undisguised admiration, but just this once Gwaine couldn't bring himself to feel jealous about this, because he knew he was too.

In a strange turn of events, Lot's people seemed to understand his reasons. He had been worried that they would think him selfish and decided they would be absolutely right in this judgement, because he was, but instead they seemed to see this as a good sign.

"You are a loyal man," the old man - who Gwaine had learnt was called Ejber - said. "You will not leave your duties if you do not feel they have been completed. These are marks of a great king."

Gwaine shook his head. "But not your king," he said.

Ejber smiled - if there was one thing Gwaine had learnt about him, it was that he was as stubborn as he was gentle. "Do not discount it yet," he said. "We shall not. There is always a time for everything."

He leaned forward and handed something to Gwaine; it was a ring, large and heavy, and on it was stamped a strange symbol, of a budding flower.

"That is the crest of the Lot family," Ejber said. "And as such, now belongs only to you. Keep it as a reminder of who you are."

Gwaine curled his hand around the ring, feeling suddenly choked up. He wanted to explain himself further, but wasn't sure he would be able to. "Thank you," he said.

Ejber bowed. "No, Sir Gwaine. Thank you. We have seen you with the people of this town. You have been called the 'People's Knight', and we agree with it. Camelot is lucky to have you."

"I think it's more like I'm happy to have it," said Gwaine, and they smiled at one another, and Lot's people left in peace.

His mother was less happy. "I did tell you the truth," she protested as he led her out into the courtyard a week later, back to her horse. "Don't you believe me?"

"Yes," Gwaine replied. "But in the end it doesn't matter."

This part was not strictly true. The knowledge that there was somewhere else other than Camelot where he would be welcome, where he belonged, had already helped his confidence no end. He kept the Lot ring around his neck with his other trinkets, and it felt warm on his chest.

"Of course it matters," his mother argued, as they stood by her horse. "Gwaine, think of the status - you, a king! And you still wish to be a mere knight?"

"Mother," said Gwaine, as he helped her up on her horse, "You are a terrible snob."

His mother glared down at him, but her sense of humour was not unlike Gwaine's, and she could never be angry with him for long. She smiled wryly. "You're not too old for a beating, you know," she retorted.

Gwaine snorted. "Leave me alone, mother."

"Cheerfully," she said, and then her stance softened a little. "Are you at least happy, Gwaine?"

Gwaine cast his mind over everything that had happened, over his life in Camelot. "Yes," he said. "Very."

His mother smiled at him, one last smile that was blinding in warmth, and then she kicked the horse into action, and Gwaine watched her gallop out of Camelot alone.

"So," Merlin said cheerfully, falling into step with Gwaine as he made his way through the corridors to the lower town later, "I suppose this means I'm still stuck with you?"

Gwaine smiled at him. "I'm afraid so."

Merlin sighed. "Great. More clumsy insults, pathetic mockery, picking you out of gutters…"

"Silence, pleb," Gwaine retorted, and swished back his hair. "I'll have you know I'm a king."

Merlin grinned. "The Gutter King," he said.

Gwaine glared at him. Merlin smiled innocently, and they both burst into laughter. They were still smiling when they reached the tavern, looking more like two ridiculous idiots than a simple knight and a king's manservant.

Gwaine only realised later, with a twist of sorrow, that that was exactly what they were.