Chapter 16

Getting ready and dressed for the day, I grab a weaved basket and my coin sack, tying it off to my waist to prepare to go down to the markets. I love the markets here in Camelot, and I should probably go around to visit Gorham today or soon. I'm afraid I've neglected her company for longer than I would like to admit.

It's a fine day out in Camelot, nothing special, a few clouds in the sky. But it's fine, and that is a good enough day as any to be out and about in the sun. I grab the small piece of parchment that I've written down my list in, tucking it into the basket.

I make a move to leave, but my eye catches a ribbon that Gwen gave me, resting over the knob of my wardrobe. I smile, putting the basket down for a moment to tie it around my bun before continuing down out of the castle.

Just before I come to the front entrance, Merlin and Arthur walk towards me.

"Don't forget you need to go buy cloth," Merlin grins. I roll my eyes, placing a hand on my hip.

"Thank you, I had completely forgotten," I deadpan, holding the basket up. "How's Arthur's saviour doing?"

"I don't know about saviour," Arthur coughs and I roll my eyes again, turning to Merlin for information.

"He's fine. I think he's gone to wander the town for a while. If you want, I'll introduce you to him when he's back."

"I would love that," I beam. "I should get going but I'll see you two later."

"Do you want some company?" Arthur asks suddenly, stopping me in my tracks. "I've got nothing to do," he adds.

"Arthur walking to markets to buy cloth? Never thought I'd see the day," I muse. "I don't mind the company."

Arthur nods, facing Merlin. "Make sure that armour is polished, and my boots are ready. Clean my chambers, walk the dogs, muck out my stables, and get my laundry."

"And here I thought I would nothing to do," he grins sarcastically. The warlock waves shortly at me as I giggle behind my hand. I turn to Arthur, gesturing outside with my head.

"Let's go, your highness."

"My lady," he cheeks.

"Ass."

"I will throw you in the dungeons," he warns, a finger pointing at me as we descend the stairs. I laugh to the wind, the ribbon blowing around in place of my hair.

"Who would fix your clothes then?"

"I'm pretty sure Genevieve is a seamstress," he counters and my face drops.

"I'm sorry, Sire. Please don't throw me in the dungeons," I plea, but the façade soon drops and laughter bubbles out of my throat again, Arthur's following suit. "I'll warn you I do have a long list so feel free to escape any time you want."

"I enjoy spending time with you, and I have the entire day off in preparation for the melee."

"Ah, the melee. Where men ride around, hitting each other with blunt sticks," I sing, glancing at the arriving knights.

"Merlin has the same opinion," the Prince adds, his nose shrivelling. "It's not just about fighting you know. It's-"

"Proving yourself," I intervene. Arthur's head turns to me in shock. "I'm not Merlin. I understand the point of all these tournaments. They're training, proving your skills to both them and yourself."

"You sound like you want to be in there," he notes slowly, deep in thought. I shake my head, glancing up to the sky then back to Arthur.

"I have no desire to fight in them," I say truthfully. "The only reason I want to fight is to be able to fight for my life and others. I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I'm not a Prince."

"I wish I could have that way of thinking," he says, almost sad, longing.

"Please," I scoff. "You would fight in them anyway. You love them."

His face breaks back into its usual place. "Alright, that's probably true."

We wander the markets, my basket slowly getting fuller at each stall. New needles, fabrics, threads. Even beads and other garnishes. My list slowly ticks itself off, the basket weighing down in the crook of my arm, leaving a red indent.

Arthur is on the more joyful side today; one I enjoy the most where he doesn't seem to care about the thoughts of people around him. Like he and I are the only people. I ask him who he's worried about in the melee (nobody apparently) and I tell him about the picnic on the lake yesterday.

"I think I've ridden past it a few times," he says. "But I've never stopped there."

"It's beautiful. Castor showed it to me just after Merlin first arrived in Camelot."

"That seems like forever ago," he sighs, following me inside Gorham's shop.

"It was forever ago." Gorham comes out from her home part, hearing the door open. "Afternoon Gorham, it's been a while."

"Elena!" she crows. "Much too long." She turns to my company, straightening herself. "Sire, it's a pleasure to have you here. Is there anything you need in particular?"

"No, I think I just want to have a look at those fabrics I heard you son brought in the other week," I say, wandering over to the racks of cloth.

"Ah yes, they are fine indeed. I'll be in the kitchen but let me know if either of you need anything." She waddles off. Arthur is surprisingly quiet.

"Are you alright?" I ask him softly. He nods, smiling partially.

"I'm fine. I just remember her son. He saved my life."

"Oh, I didn't realise."

I let the conversation drop, running my hand over the fabrics, placing the basket down by my feet. I pull at a royal blue one which is softer than usual, but no less strong.

"Arthur, come over here," I urge him. He walks over, standing next to me. I pull the cloth up, placing it against his shoulder and chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if the colour suits you," I say, my eyes flickering between his skin and the colour. "You need some new shirts." He always seems to wear them out so quickly. I'm beginning to suspect that he does it on purpose just so I don't have time to do the other parts of my job.

"It's blue," he states as though that should provide enough explanation to something.

"I know. You never wear blue so I'm seeing if it suits you."

He looks down, assessing it himself. "Does it?"

"No," I frown, dropping the cloth back in its place. "You're destined to wear red for the rest of your life. Good thing that's the Pendragon colour." The Great Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King, destined to bring together Albion. And to only wear white and red shirts.

"Good indeed," he chortles. I pull the cloth out again, my face morphing into one of thought.

"Actually, it's Merlin's colour. I should get some." I grab the small bundle which is already cut into a few yards.

"I didn't know the court seamstress made clothes for the servants," Arthur says, following me over to the other side of the room.

"I'm making this as a friend. And out of my own pocket, so don't get your socks in a twist," I state. "Gorham! I've found something."

"I wasn't," he mumbles, the sound flattened as Gorham returns. I show her the material, getting out the money required.

"Oh, it's a darling colour that one isn't it?" she gushes, running her fingers along it. "It's one of my favourites."

I pull out the coins, reaching up to hand them over but there's already something hovering her hand. Arthur has his own hand out, dropping a small sack of coins in Gorham's hand. He smiles at her.

"Thank you for your service," he says.

"Arthur I-"

"No arguments," he chides me. My mouth shuts, not wanting to argue in front of Gorham. The lady gives us a toothy smile waving at us as we leave. As soon as the door shuts, I start up again.

"Arthur. Seriously. I owe you too much already," I sigh, adjusting the weight of the basket.

"Owe me? You don't owe me anything," he dismisses, not meeting my gaze.

"I think I do," I counter. "The training sessions, the saddle, this. I'm racking up quite the debt."

We are back on the busy main street of Camelot, people flowing past us, going about their own day. I feel guilty now like I should have tried harder to refuse his offer back in there. Hands grab my arms, turning me to face the Prince who is now looking straight at me.

"Elena, you don't owe me anything. I do these things because I want to, not so you feel this need to repay me."

His words come out so sincere that it hurts my heart. "I feel like I haven't done anything for you though," I retort pathetically. I mean, I have helped save his life one too many times, but he doesn't actually know that. And it was mostly Merlin anyway.

His hands squeeze my arms. "You do more than you realise."

I swallow thickly, dropping my eyes. I start walking again, Arthur's hands dropping as he joins me, our shoulders brushing up against each other.

"So, tell me more about this tavern brawl you got yourself into. Who was the man that saved you?"

Arthur breathes out deeply, looking around into the sea of people. "As Merlin said, some thugs threatened the owner, I wouldn't let him. He called his buddies and out of nowhere this many just joined in, helping us. He got stabbed in the leg pretty badly. His name is –"

"Gwaine?" I whisper, my eyes stuck on a figure walking through the people.

"Ah, yeah. How did you-"

"Gwaine!" I cry out, running forward.

Gwaine, in all his glory, is sauntering lazily through the people. He looks exactly the same as he did all that time ago when I left him to come back home. I run into people, muttering apologies but I don't stop. He still hasn't noticed me, so I call out again. His head spins around, hearing me but not yet seeing me.

I'm only meters away now and he sees me. His arms open, mouth spreading just the same. I jump into the waiting arms, his familiar scent of the wild filling my nose and the memories of my time with him come crashing down onto me.

"Ellie?" he laughs in disbelief.

"You're such an idiot, Gwaine," I cry out, thumping my forehead against his shoulder. "Predictable as well."

"I was wondering when I'd see you around here. It's been too long."

I pull back, whacking his shoulder. "That's because you don't write," I scold. "I get worried. I know you're alive but alive in a nice bed or locked up somewhere are two very different things."

By this time, Arthur has caught up, carrying the basket which I didn't realise I had dropped.

"Arthur," Gwaine nods in greeting. Arthur frowns, looking between the both of us.

"You two know each other," he observes, handing me back my things. Gwaine scoffs, throwing an arm around my shoulder.

"Know each other? Too well I think."

"Gwaine is the man I travelled with for most of the time I was away from Camelot," I elaborate. "Saved my own ass in a tavern. He seems to have a habit of that." Arthur's eyes light in recognition. "He also taught me how to use a sword."

"Only after you tackled me to the ground," Gwaine adds. "And you stole my apples."

"Makes sense now," Arthur says, tucking his lips. "I remember you talking about him."

"Talked about me did ya'?" Gwaine asks, looking at me. "So, how good are you with a blade now?"

"A lot better than when you last saw me," I shoot back, overwhelmed with adrenaline. I still can't believe Gwaine is here, standing right in front of me again. I wasn't sure if I'd ever get to see the day. "Arthur has been teaching me as well."

"Really?" he asks, scanning Arthur as though seeing for the first time. I know of Gwaine's dislike for nobility, but Arthur is one of the better men out there and I hope he could see that. Arthur puffs his chest proudly.

"Yes, she's improved a lot in the past two years," Arthur states, as though my achievements are his own. Although, I suppose they are in a way.

"Still use that sword you stole?"

"Stole?" Arthur exclaims. I blush, pinching Gwaine's side.

"Permanently borrowed, is the preferred term," I hiss through a smile. "But yes. How's your leg?"

Gwaine rubs his right thigh, wincing a little. "It's fine, nothing that won't heal. Why don't we spend some time catching up this afternoon, Ellie?"

I nod, beaming. "I would love too. I've just finished shopping; I just have to go back to put this stuff in my room."

"I can take it up for you," Arthur offers. "I should be up there greeting the knights anyways."

"You said you didn't have anything to do today," I note, squinting my eyes at him.

"I forgot," Arthur shrugs, taking the basket from my arms. "I'll leave you two to it."

He glances between us for another moment before taking his leave quietly, the basket hanging awkwardly from his hand. My eyes finally leave him, moving back to Gwaine with an ever-growing smile.

"So, friends with the Prince," he says, and I can hear the judgement slipping through. I hook his arm in mine, leading his through the town aimlessly.

"Yes, and I know you don't like him but he's a good man. One that deserves his title. Why'd you help him anyways?"

"Didn't know who he was, but the odds didn't look in their favour," he cheeks.

"How typical of you," I snort. "How many women have you flirted with so far?"

"None, for your information," he exclaims. "Although…" he trails off and I follow his line of sight, seeing Gwen nearby with her washing.

"Nope," I chide. "She's taken." Gwen's heart will always belong to Lancelot.

"Figures. All the pretty ones are," he sighs. "What about you and that knight?"

"Leon? We ended things over a year ago now."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm still friends with him, it was just…not the right time for us. I've moved on for the most part anyway," I say, my thoughts drifting back to the man that lives inside my head for most of my days.

"I can see that," Gwaine muses, a cheeky smile on his face.

"I'm not even going to ask what that means, because I'm not going to like the answer," I say, keeping my head straight, but laughing as I risk a glance at him. He's got that look on his face. The shit-eating grin I know him so well for.

"So, you met Merlin as well I presume?" I ask, changing the subject to something my cheeks can bare. And my heart.

"Merlin? Yes, I quite like him actually," he says, smiling fondly.

"He grows on you quickly, doesn't he?"

"That he does."

"I'm glad you're in Camelot. I've missed you a lot."

"I've missed you too. Travelling will never be the same without you."

"You could always stay here," I suggest. "Arthur would put in a word for you."

"Somehow, I don't see that working out. Something always happens."

"I can hope," I remorse.