~~~Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather
(war bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
(Generals order their soldiers to kill)
Gather it all in a bunch of heather
(And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten)
Then she'll be a true love of mine~~~
A/N: So. This chapter. It's...
Okay. So, I have this thing where I try not to sabotage my work before people read it. But I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter. It just seems all over the place. I think I wanted to get this story line over with, so it's kind of rushed. And as for the Gwaine and Merlin part of this chapter... I'm not the biggest fan of that, either. I'll go into more detail about this in the end notes, but this whole chapter is very Meh to me.
Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone for the comments and reviews on the last chapter! I am posting this story on both AO3 and FF . net, but have mostly been getting response on the AO3 version. So the reviews from FF . net is a nice bonus. Thanks everyone! As said, I tend not to reply to reviews or comments unless they have questions, but I do appreciate them all the same.
Also! The title for this chapter comes from Scarborough Fair , the arrangement done by Simon and Garfunkle. I recommend this song, but I recommend looking up the version by Dan Avidan, which I've linked above on AO3 (Sorry, FF . net still doesn't allow links!). The video is so sad, but amazing. Also, Dan's voice is just *chef kiss* beautiful. I originally had another song as the title for this chapter, but I felt this song fit better, for both parts.
Enjoy!
Okay. Merlin was officially deeply concerned.
He held the still warm plate of roast chicken, with a side of the last of the sweet peas and corn for the season. He knocked gently at the door he stood before, hoping that Gwaine was in. When he heard the raspy "come in," he'd been deathly concerned. And now? Now he was fully and utterly worried.
He hadn't known Gwaine long. It felt like he'd known him forever, like Arthur had said, but it had been maybe three days. But still. He knew how strange it was to see the man staring dead into the fireplace, eyes unseeing and uncaring. The man hadn't even looked up at him as he entered, not saying any form of acknowledgement, or greeting. He gave no inclination that he'd heard him at all, in fact.
He had started feeling concerned when Arthur hadn't returned from his talk with Gwaine. It had been strange, Arthur demanding to talk to Gwaine once lunch had ended, smile sharp as glass and eyes just as deadly. Gwaine has frozen, frown on his face, before nodding with a careless grin. Gwaine had whispered something to him, about how he would see him tonight, and had then left with a swagger. And if Merlin's eyes had lingered on that beautiful arse, well. He was only human.
But then neither boy had returned. For nearly an hour he had waited, eyes going tight with worry as more and more time passed. He had suddenly appreciated Arthur's plight from that morning a whole lot more. It was awful.
Hopefully, he thought, heart sinking, it wasn't the same thing keeping both boys then as it was that had kept himself the night before.
But, no. Arthur was straight. He wouldn't… no. Right?
Before he could go out looking, Arthur had entered the house, false smile bright on his lips. His eyes, though… they were dead. God. What had happened?
He had asked but was brushed off. But he was nothing if not persistent. He pressed. And Arthur crumbled. A little.
He was still so confused, even after the explanation. Why had he argued with Gwaine? Why were they so angry at one another? Why did Arthur look like someone had died, rather than having a small row with a friend? Unless it wasn't a small row. But what did they have to argue about?
Was it... but no, Merlin dismissed instantly. It couldn't have been him. He wasn't so arrogant as to believe that. Maybe the plan? Something?
And then. Then.
Arthur had asked him, begged him, pleaded with him to go to Gwaine and look after him. And then he'd went upstairs to sleep.
Merlin had no idea what to think.
Dinner had come and gone without a peep from the other boy. Merlin had explained to the others that Arthur was feeling tired from the night before, having not slept well, and wanted to get some rest since they'd need to be well-rested for the coming days. The girls had accepted it easily enough, nodding simply before chatting with one another. Merlin had tried to join in, answering Ygraine's questions about palace life, but it was hard. He was so worried.
After dinner had ended, he had brought Arthur up a plate, watching the man sleep for a minute as he left the food by his head, worry filling him to the brim.
And now here he stood. Looking at Gwaine, one of the strongest, most exuberant men he'd ever met, who was staring dead eyed and dull into a dying fire. And he was so bloody worried his heart felt like it'd fall out on him.
"Gwaine," he begged, setting the plate on the small table before the fire as he knelt before his lover slash friend, promptly forgetting about the thing as soon as it left his hands. Gwaine didn't even look up. "Please, Gwaine. Look at me. Talk to me. Please," he stressed, reaching out with soft fingers to touch the man. Gwaine didn't start, but he did blink, eyes lifting minutely from the fire. They still didn't focus on him, but it was at least acknowledgment.
"I spoke to Arthur. He said you'd had a falling out. I know how pigheaded and stupid he can be, but I'm sure whatever he said he hadn't meant. Please Gwaine. At least look at me."
He tried so hard to put all his feelings into his words, his concern bleeding from his lips as well he could. And, to his relief, it worked. Gwaine looked up at him, not meeting his eyes but staring somewhere around his chin. But it was something.
"Don't talk about him. I never want to hear that name again," was Gwaine's raspy reply. It sounded like he had been eating gravel. Or had been crying for hours, he heard a voice whisper inside him, making him shudder. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that Gwaine's eyes were red and puffy. He would have thought the man was drinking, but there wasn't a bottle in sight. That's how he knew it was bad. Only a man who wanted to be in pain didn't drown their sorrows away.
God. What had Arthur done? Gwaine was not a wilting flower. Merlin was. Merlin was the kind to cry for hours because someone he cared about said a mean thing to him. He remembered bawling his eyes out anytime he'd row with Freya, believing she'd hate him forever. But that was him. He'd always been emotional, ever since birth really. He had cried for hours and hours after his mother had given birth to him, Gaius had once told him with a fond laugh. He just felt things so deeply. Like he was interconnected with the entire universe and could feel its intense sorrow. Or something.
But Gwaine wasn't like that. Fair, he hadn't known him long, but he was a good judge of character. This wasn't like Gwaine. If he were sad, Merlin had the feeling he'd go straight for a bottle. He wouldn't sit and wallow, eyes dead and dull. What had happened?
Frustrated, Merlin did the only thing he could think of to get that look off Gwaine's face.
Kissing Gwaine was so easy. Like breathing a breath of fresh air after hours of stale, stagnant air. It was so very nice. And, after a moment, Gwaine kissed back, though he was restrained, holding back. Not liking that, Merlin pushed the man back in his seat, straddling his legs as he wound his fingers deep in the long, brown locks. Gwaine moaned at that, hips surging upwards towards Merlins heat, making Merlin gasp, and then groan. He ground down, body electrified as Gwaine keened, soft and needing, hand grasping his hips so tight, and yet so gentle. The pair stayed like that for long minutes, grinding against one another while they kissed passionately, until the tension in Gwaine suddenly released, the man going boneless under him while Merlin helplessly followed.
Merlin leaned against the man for minutes after, just panting while he ran his fingers through silky hair.
"Talk to me, Gwaine," he whispered, kissing the man's neck so gently. Gwaine keened again, holding him tighter.
"I don't deserve you," the man whispered instead, pressing his forehead to Merlin's temple, lips brushing his cheek each time he breathed. Merlin shuddered and turned his head to press his forehead to Gwaine's.
"Nonsense. Utter nonsense. I'm nothing special. But please. Let me help you. Unburden your mind. Maybe I can help?"
"Oh, Merlin. You already have, you beautiful man," Gwaine whispered, looking at him so tenderly and with so much love Merlin ached. He wished he could stay here with him. Forever. To love him for the rest of his life. Maybe this would be better for him than pining after a straight man all his life. Maybe…
"I loved him," Gwaine confessed, several moments later. At Merlin's confused look, Gwaine continued, mirthless smile on his lips. "Arthur. When I came to this village, I'd been broken and sad. I'd watched so many of my friends die needlessly as your father's men stormed through our village, causing death and destruction in their wake. My little sister… she was hurt, shot through the shoulder. She… didn't make it. Your father had already indirectly been the cause of my father's death, this was just one more thing. I had been so angry. Prepared to storm the castle myself and kill him where he stood."
Merlin felt sick. He let his hand slacken, suddenly wondering why Gwaine was letting him so near him. Goddess. No wonder the man had hated him. Probably still hated him.
As Gwaine noticed Merlin's distress, the man's eyes widened, panic in his eyes as he clutched Merlin to him.
"No, my love. I am not mad at you. I was, at first. So very angry. I hated you for all you stood for. For the sins of your father. But you are not him. I see that now. And I could never hate you. Not now. Not after having tasted your decadent lips. Have held your warm heat in the palms of my hands, tasted it on my tongue. No. I could never hate such sweetness. Please, forgive me."
He said it with such desperation. Like he couldn't bear the thought of Merlin hating him or being angry at him. Merlin felt tears rise to his eyes, once again proving how emotional he was, but he nodded quick, smiling sadly. After a second, Gwaine nodded slowly, leaving forward to kiss Merlin chastely.
"I just meant that I was very much not okay following my move here. Everything hurt. I was so very angry. So bitter. When I saw a young boy staring at me, hair golden, eyes blue as a river, it had been the first time I'd felt anything other than rage in weeks. He'd looked so sweet and innocent. My one weakness. I had wanted him from that moment on. I made him work for it, work to get to know me, but he never gave up. So persistent. How could I not love him?"
Gwaine chuckled mirthlessly, eyes bleeding sorrow as he looked into the almost dead fire. The sun was setting rapidly, the blinds closed besides, so the room was almost pitch black, only a few candles and the dying fire giving light. The fire reflected in Gwaine's eyes, danced on his face, making him look ancient.
"But he couldn't love me. Refused to. I was so confused. Still am, to this day. I could see that he wanted me. I never denied myself anything, thinking it madness to deny yourself earthly pleasures. I couldn't understand him. But I tried. Even if I only ever had him as a friend, it was enough. I lingered in this village long after my stay was welcome, all because I couldn't bear to tear myself away from him. I'd ride sometimes, days and days away. Weeks upon weeks. I'd dream about never coming back, of making my own destiny out there, in the open. But then I'd see his eyes in my mind. His smile. And I'd be rushing back. To see him mope over the 'girl of his dreams,' who was destined to love another."
Gwaine paused, shuddering. Merlin didn't dare to say a word. Gwaine had clearly been building up these words inside him for years, with no one to tell. His heart ached for this man, for his silent suffering. After all. It had been less than four months and he knew what it was like to suffer Arthur's unrequited love. He couldn't imagine nine years of it.
"These last few months have been torture without him. I suppose I hated you most for that. For taking him away from me. I almost wanted to ride into Camelot myself to visit him. Save him. His letters were also so dreary. I have no idea why, now. You're nothing like he wrote about. I can't understand why he'd do that, other than to think it was the same reason he would yell at me sometimes, scream at me that he hated me and that I should leave him alone forever. Too much emotion trapped inside him that he lashed out."
Gwaine sighed deeply as he shifted, his arms carefully maneuvering Merlin around so that his head rested comfortably against Gwaine's chest. He didn't like the position because it didn't allow him to see Gwaine's eyes, but as his hair began to have gentle fingers in it, carding through the messy strands, he felt more at peace with it. Besides. If Gwaine wanted to hide his pain, he wasn't going to force him against it. He was saying so much, sharing so much more than Merlin deserved. He'd do anything if it helped this man.
"You see, Arthur adores his father. Or his image of his father. He never knew the man, the man fleeing the village when he'd been only a few months old. But he has an image of him so clearly in his mind and he'd do anything to please it. Thinking that one day his father will return and see the son he'd always wanted. The perfect heir."
Gwaine snorted, fingers pulling his hair a little too roughly. Merlin didn't mind. He just hummed and drew random shapes on Gwaine's clothed chest, eyes blurring as he listened as intently as he possibly could.
"It's a sham. Arthur has no idea what his father would or wouldn't approve of. It's his own insecurities eating him from the inside out. Oh, how I tried to help him. To get him to see what was so plain to me. That life was about living, having fun. Doing what pleases you. Not about repression and guilt and self-hatred. He was such a strong person, carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. Like a battle-weary prince, not a lowly farm boy.
I could never get him to see reason, though. Never. It was like trying to get blood from a stone. Impossible and mind-numbingly tedious. But I never gave up. I always had hope that one day… one day he'd see me. One day, maybe, he…"
Gwaine broke off at that, taking a deep breath and letting it out, shaking.
"I loved others. As I told you, I've loved every person I've ever been with, holding them deep in my heart forever. A man can love a hundred others just as good as he can love a single one. I've always believed that to be true. But none held my fancy. None made my blood boil. Not like him. Some would beg me to stay. Would beg me to reconsider my one rule. But I never could. I would never be what they wanted me to be. I was too wild. Too angry. Too free. I could never be chained down, stuck forever in a single place. Staying here so long has driven me nuts as it is. I could never be a good husband. I don't have it in me."
Merlin disagreed, but he didn't dare interrupt. Gwaine needed to get this out. He'd comment later.
"Arthur called me heartless. Said I loved no one. Said that I 'prey on the innocent and vulnerable.' I could read between the lines. I know him better than he knows himself. He was talking about my feelings for him. I know he was."
Gwaine broke off again, clearing his throat, which sounded thick. Merlin pulled back and looked Gwaine deep in his eyes, hoping the sympathy he felt was plain. He saw the sorrow that lived deep within those brown eyes and longed to wrap him up and make the hurt go away. But he couldn't. He could only listen and hope that Gwaine would feel better after having released the emotions he had built up for near a decade.
"After everything I have done for him. Everything I have sacrificed. After my mother died, I wanted to leave. I wanted it so badly. I hated staying in this house, everything reminding me of her. But I stayed. For him. To be near him. And all along he resented me for it. I wish I had. Had left and never come back. Had left without a worry, without a care. And I think I will, once this is done. I'll take off and stay gone. Find my destiny out there on the road. Not trapped here, in this dead-end village, broken and bleeding."
Gwaine rested his head in the crook of Merlins neck, breathing in his scent.
"I have loved him so long I don't know who I would be if I ever stopped. Even now, I feel it within me. Oh, I feel so bad for you, my beautiful, brave lion cub. The pain you will suffer these next few years… but you have something that I never had. You... you may be able to do what I never could. And I only pray that you can. You deserve happiness. And, while I am so very angry and upset at him right now, so does he. I'd do anything for him to see reason and finally give in to the feelings he's denied for so long. Yet I fear he won't. Even after my anger. After my sorrow. He's too stubborn. Too prideful. He'd rather suffer than think of disappointing a ghost."
The words were whispered against his pulse, so soft and sorrowful. Merlin couldn't help the gasp he gave, a tear running down his cheek unbidden. Suddenly, he could feel it. The weight of his love. The burden of it. And suddenly…
He didn't want it.
He didn't want to suffer. He wanted to be happy. As he looked at Gwaine, the other man smiling softly at him even as he wiped the single tear away, he suddenly longed to leave this all behind. To go somewhere better. To wander the earth. Forever.
With Gwaine.
"Let's go. After this is done. You and me. We can travel the whole bloody world together. I'll keep you safe. You'll keep me safe. We can make love each night beneath the moon. We can go to the coast, watch the waves lapping at the shore. Have you ever seen the ocean? I know you'd love it, it's so big and vast and empty. Uncharted. We could rent a boat, sail for a while. Leave Camelot and Fayford far behind. We would never have to come back. Just you and me. Me and you. Together."
His voice was whisper quiet, like he was afraid of breaking the world if he spoke too loudly. Like if he spoke too loudly, his father would hear and storm into the room, tearing him away from the one thing that had caused him happiness in years. Because heavens forbid that he ever actually be happy. Heavens forbid he actually enjoy his life, instead of suffering day after day after day. Heavens forbid he be in love with a man who was capable of loving him back.
The way Gwaine looked at him… it was like he had said everything he had ever wanted. Like his words were more precious than gold. Like Merlin meant more to him than life itself. It was a humbling look. But then Gwaine's face shuttered, a helpless smile on his face as his eyes bled sorrow.
"That sounds incredible, my love. And you don't know how much I long to accept. You are the one person I've met who has ever gotten as close to my heart as him. But it's not the life for you. You belong in Camelot. You will be king one day. And you will be a great one. Better than any of those before you. You care so much. So deeply. You will bring Camelot to greatness. I can't be responsible for taking that from you. I won't."
Suddenly, Merlin was angry. Not at Gwaine, never at Gwaine. But at the world. For having dealt him the shittiest of hands. For continually making his life one constant pain after another. He felt a sob escape his throat, Gwaine shushing him as strong arms wrapped tight around him, making him feel so safe, and secure, and loved. Oh. He wished to stay like this forever.
"Please. Gwaine, please. I hate it there. My father hates me. I don't know why. I have done everything to please him. There's just something wrong with me. I can't be strong like him. I cry at the simplest things. A baby bird once fell from a tree and was half dead when I found it and I cried for hours, trying to nurse it back to health. I- I hate how he kills people, without a single care. Like they're nothing. Just because they either can't or choose not to use magic. It's not someone's fault how they are born. Or even what they choose to do or not do. I can't stand watching as he looks with disinterest on crying, screaming women and children, begging their loved one to be saved. I've seen him kill children. Children. He asks me to understand, but how the hell can I? How can I return there? How can I ever face him? I love him dearly, as he is my father. But there are times I hate him more than anything. And I can't stand myself for feeling such. I really… I really can't."
He'd never said any of this before. Not even to Freya. He felt it was only fair. Gwaine has shared something so deep, so personal. It was only fair he returned the favor. Besides. He doubted Gwaine would judge him.
"And I can't bear the thought of loving another man who will never love me. I love so deeply, I know I do. Everyone always tells me that. I can't bear it, Gwaine. Not now that I've had this. Had something good. Something pure. How can I go back to that, knowing what actual happiness tastes like? I can't. Please, don't make me. I'm begging you. Please."
He was crying again. He hated it. So much. Gwaine shushed him again, rocking him lightly as he did so. It was so soothing. He wanted to sleep and never wake up. He wanted…
"But that is your life. Your destiny. I've never put much stock in destiny, thinking it something you followed only loosely, if at all. A guide, not a rule. But I can't deny how our paths do not intertwine. Oh, I hope that I will see you again, that we will reunite one day, and that reunion will be glorious. I will pray to every god I have never believed in for it to be true. But we are not made for each other. This much I know."
Gwaine sighed, soft, and kissed the top of his head gently.
"He needs you. I know you are a prince and he is your servant, but he needs you so much. I see it in the way he looks at you. He was angry at me for defiling you, by the way. He's only ever been that protective with Gwen before. I know how he feels about you, just like I know how he feels about me. It's just up to you to get him to admit it. If you ever can. If you're up to the task. I understand if you're not. I would never blame you that. But if you do decide it's too much… be kind, please. I don't want him hurt. I don't know if I could bear it. Even after all he said. Ha. And here I was, thinking I'd never be a lovesick fool. God, strike me down."
Merlin cried again at the words, pressing close to Gwaine, but he could feel the truth. He knew his destiny. He would rule Camelot one day. He'd have to. He'd make things right, fix the mistakes of his father. He'd right the world. But he could only do that if he returned. His father would never forgive him if he left for good. He'd be disowned in a heartbeat. His father didn't care for him. Didn't love him. Wouldn't even care if he'd died.
But that was fine. Because as long as he got the crown, one day, it would be worth it. He'd be twenty-one in a handful of months, would be crowned the crown prince and would be the rightful heir to the throne, fully and completely. He just had to make it there.
He hated how power hungry that made him sound. He hated that his father couldn't love him. Hated that he loved too much and too foolishly. Hated everything. Hated himself.
But he didn't hate Gwaine, he thought softly, leaning back to look the man in the eyes, sure his entire heart was bear for the other to see. And, as Gwaine stared back, eyes just as open, he couldn't help but to kiss him. He would accept Gwaine's words. Would accept his decree. But he would make the best use of the time they had left.
And as Gwaine carried him to the bedroom, slowly and languidly removing his clothes, hot fingers trailing up and down his body like fire, like lightning. As he made love to him so softly, so sweetly, had let him use the oil that Gwaine had clearly used the night before to slick his cock up, nice and slippery, and officially lose his virginity, crying his lover's name and his lover's name alone as he came. As he laid in Gwaine's arms after, the man holding him so tenderly, so lovingly he wanted to cry.
He knew it would tear his heart out to give this up. He had lost more of his heart to Gwaine than he had ever thought possible. But it was his now. Gwaine's. It belonged to him and it would stay with him, even as he left. As he journeyed back home, Arthur by his side, both of them silently suffering for different reasons.
Part of him still couldn't believe Gwaine's words. That Arthur could love a man. That he did, in fact, desire men. But he believed Gwaine exclusively. If he said it there must be some truth to the words. And if there was some truth…
He had hope. Hope, that one day, maybe far, far away, he'd have Arthur for good. Forever. Gwaine had waited nine years. Surely, he could, too? He was a patient man, willing to sacrifice everything, even his morality for the love of another. And he was no stranger to suffering. He knew well what sorrow tasted like.
But now… now he thought, as he traced runes on Gwaine's skin, making the man chuckle at the sensation, Gwaine grabbing his hand and kissing it fiercely… now, he knew what happiness tasted like, too. What pure joy tasted like. And it felt so, so good. So pure and sweet. He'd do anything to taste it again. One more time.
And if his happiness wasn't destined to be with Gwaine, well. He'd just have to suffer a little more before he found his true happiness. Hopefully in Arthur's arms, but he'd take it any way he could get.
And if he feared he was missing his one chance, that this was it for him. That the gods or fate, or God himself had gifted him this precious gift and he was casting it out. If he feared that if he left, he'd never get this feeling back, well. He'd lived with fear before. And he'd live with it again.
Besides. He'd meet Gwaine again, one day. As the man slowly fell asleep, holding Merlin tight to his chest, breathing easy and calm, Merlin knew without a shadow of a doubt that their paths would cross again. Destiny was cruel, but it could be kind sometimes, too. He'd make sure of it. He would be sure to keep in contact, sending letters and demanding them in return. He would need that much.
As he drifted off, soft snores filling his ears as Gwaine fell asleep before him, he sent a word of thanks to whoever was watching him at the moment. To the Keeper of the Stars.
Because, no matter what happened next.
No matter what heartache he faced.
He'd always remember this moment.
And that thought made him smile.
~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~
His stomach was roiling. Tension bled off him in waves. He could only watch as Arthur's friends prepared their battlefield, mind numb and desperate as he tried to remember the plan.
It had been three days. Three days of absolute agony as his battered heart faced Arthur day after day, aching as he couldn't force himself to meet the other's eyes. Oh, he hated the fact he couldn't. Hated that he was making the other boy suffer because of his inability. But he couldn't help it. It hurt to look at him. All he could see was the anguish in Gwaine's usually carefree face and he had felt such deep anger. Such protective instincts. It would steal his breath until he looked away, sure the overly-perceptive-for-everyone-but-himself boy would notice. And he hadn't wanted to hurt him. Like Gwaine, no matter his inner rage and conflict… he hadn't wanted to ever hurt Arthur. Ever.
He was hurting him, though. He knew he was. Arthur looked so downtrodden the last few days, heartbroken almost. He knew a lot of it was anguish over losing his best friend, though, of breaking their relationship irreparably. And while Merlin knew Gwaine would always love Arthur, he also knew he would never be able to forgive him. Not just for the one night of anger and harsh words, no. Gwaine wasn't such an arsehole he'd abandon someone for one bad night.
It was all of it. Of nine years of unrequited love, of pining for a person he knew cared deeply for him yet refused to acknowledge it. Because, to him, there was something inherently wrong about feeling such a way.
Merlin knew how that tortured Gwaine. Destroyed him inside. Gwaine always claimed to be carefree, to be a wanderer, never destined to stay too long in one place. But he had stayed nine years for a single man. A butterfly trapped in a spider's web. Praying for freedom. For release. But never receiving it.
And Merlin could see that path so clearly for himself. He ached with it. Wanted anything but it. Yet he knew it was the path he was destined to take. He was drawn so helplessly towards Arthur. It had to be destiny pulling them together. For what purpose, he had no idea. Destiny remained blind to him, for all his power.
He had met a dragon once, years and years ago. Deep in the bowels of the castle. He'd wandered too far, too curious. He had been hearing a voice whisper to him for days and he had to find it.
The dragon had terrified him. He'd seen dragons before, his father using them to gain power for himself, defeating his enemies with them. He'd one day inherit the power himself he knew that. But this dragon… it had been fearsome. Terrifying.
And he'd said such strange things. Called him by his family name, had told him of a prophecy. A destiny. Something about that old bedtime story, the Once and Future King. He couldn't recall all the details of their talk, but he had remembered his father's panic and rage when he'd told him, even though the dragon had made him promise to never to tell anyone about their talk together. But he'd only been six. He had trusted his father completely, back then. That was before he had grown distant, before he pulled away. He had no reason to believe his father would grow unendingly angry with him. Yes, he'd been told time and time again to never wander into that part of the castle, but his father had forgiven him everything. Everything.
But not that.
Maybe Arthur was that king Kilgharrah- the name he would later learn of the Great Dragon he had met- had spoken of. His destiny. The other half of his single coin. Maybe that's why he was so pulled to him. Arthur reminded him so much of the kings of old, after all. So noble and brave and true. He'd be a great king, if given the chance. Better than him, at least. And he was helpless against the way he was pulled to the other.
But he also knew the story of the Once and Future King. While his father had banned all retellings of the tale, no one listened. The story gave them hope. An end to their nightmare. They'd whisper how the Once and Future King would join the world's most powerful warlock and would bring down the tyrant king. Would free them and their lands for good and would reunite Albion in one fell swoop.
And that's where the story fell apart.
Because he could never betray his father. Not now, not ever. No matter how much pain he felt, how much resentment bubbled within him. He'd never harm his king and father. He'd rather die first.
So maybe the dragon was wrong. Maybe he wasn't the warlock from the prophecy.
Gaius believed he was, though. Gaius had tried to deny it, to say he didn't believe it. But Merlin knew the older man too well, like he was a second father, or maybe grandfather. He'd told him once about his visit to the dragon, fearing the older man would hate him too, but not able to keep it in after all those years. He'd been nine when he'd told Gaius, tears streaming down his face, and Gaius had just shushed him, and held him, and told him it would all be alright. Told him that no future was set in stone, that destiny was not all it was promised to be. That the future was still his to mold as he saw fit.
But, Merlin had always noticed, the older man had never outright denied the fact that he would be the powerful warlock. Had never given him that peace of mind.
No. No, he couldn't. He couldn't outright defy his father. This… what he was doing, in this village, this was just… alright, he saw what it was like, but he wasn't outright defying him. His father had never told him not to go. Sure, he hadn't known the truth, but it wasn't… it wasn't like that. It couldn't be.
And as he planted the bombs he and the girls had enchanted, Arthur's friends having made them with careful fingers, he thought that firmly. He loved his father. He did. Deeply and fiercely and wanted nothing more than to make him proud.
Maybe if he said it enough times it would become true.
"You alright, my love?" A voice muttered to the side, warm arms wrapping around him from behind, kissing his neck softly. Oh, he gasped, leaning back into that warmth even as his eyes darted around to ensure they were safe. That no one could see them. He didn't care as much anymore if they were caught, but it was an old habit by now.
This had been the one good thing he had going for him. Each day had been agony, torture. But each night? Each night had been heaven.
Remembering the silencing charms now, he would make love to Gwaine for hours upon hours every night. Passed the point of exhaustion for a normal man, he would renew their stamina with a whispered spell, Gwaine laughing heartily as he begged Merlin to teach him. But Gwaine was tragically magicless. He'd never be able to master such spells. Maybe a simple protection charm or two, but nothing more. He'd never say that to the man, just smiling happily at Gwaine's impressed words, but he had a feeling the other man knew. He was wise, that way.
It had been perfect. So lazy and languid and tragically beautiful. He'd fully entered into one of Freya's romance novels and he didn't even care. As long as he could lie on his stomach and trace runes of protection and healing on Gwaine's skin, adding his magic to the blithe shapes, hoping they would actually work, he didn't care. He'd even felt Gwaine enter him, once, the night previous, body shaking as he was filled in a way he'd never been before. It had hurt, and his bottom was still aching fiercely, but Gwaine had been so gentle and sweet. And it had, indeed, felt so utterly amazing. Heartbreakingly perfect. Arthur was the most foolish man alive, he felt, coming down from the most incredible high of his life.
"What thoughts plague you, my darling, my dearest heart, the apple of my eye? Tell me, please. Unburden yourself."
Merlin shuddered as he knees grew weak. He knew Gwaine was teasing, but it was still nice to hear, to be the subject of such teasing care. Oh. He'd miss this. So very much.
"Just about an old story the servants of the castle would whisper about, that's all. The Once and Future King. It's nothing, though. Nothing to worry over."
Gwaine hummed, arms tightening around his waist as his chin settled on his shoulder, nuzzling the base of his hair. Hmm. He would so hate to lose this. He was dreading the next day. They had figured they would be done with preparation by then. Merlin had sent Ewan, the youngest and most determined to prove himself of the group, to act as lookout. To keep him out of harm's way, mostly. He'd been too eager. He'd get himself killed and Merlin couldn't stand that.
"I've heard that tale. Arthur used to pretend to be that king, gallant and true, slaying the evil from the world with a flick of his illegal sword. He'd try and get me to play the warlock, but I'd just laugh. I wasn't built for such a role. He'd pout, though, so eventually I'd give in. Like always. Hm. Hadn't thought of that tale in years. What brought it to your mind?"
Merlin hummed, mind racing with thoughts but keeping his immediate thoughts carefully blank. He just swayed in Gwaine's grasp, making the other man chuckle softly. He loved that chuckle, now. Had no idea why it had ever bothered him. He'd miss it so fiercely…
"Just a thought. It's nothing, though. Don't worry about it. How are the preparations going?"
They continued in their conversation, chatting lightly about their plans for the following day. How Freya and Morgana would lead the men here, through mysterious means they refused to talk about. How they would use magic and subterfuge to confuse their enemy. Merlin didn't mention how he didn't intend to let any of the sorcerers survive. If they did, they'd surely be out for revenge and he'd be too far away to help. It made his insides squirm, pressing so firmly back against Gwaine's chest that he felt he'd become one with the man, eyes squeezed shut. Gwaine kissed his neck gently, sucking light marks on his delicate skin as he whispered soft, comforting words. He didn't deserve Gwaine. He really didn't.
It was when he opened his eyes and looked up that he gasped so loudly he almost felt his heart stop. For staring right at them, eyes glued to the lips that were still attached to his neck, was Arthur.
The pair stared for a long minute, before he felt Gwaine step away from him, clearing his throat lightly. Arthur tore his eyes away at that, face red, but eyes distant. After a second, Arthur looked up with a strained smile and heartache in his eyes. And he nodded minutely, a touch of a real smile creeping in as he stared at the pair.
And then he was gone.
Merlin let out the breath he had been holding, gasping as oxygen flooded his brain. Gwaine gave him a look, smiling sadly, and grabbed his hand to kiss it gently.
"Suppose we have his approval, then," Gwaine muttered softly, shrugging.
Merlin nodded absently, trying to calm his racing heart. Before he could, though, he heard Ygraine come running into the field, eyes frantic as she yelled for them all to come back to the village immediately.
Something had happened.
Instantly on edge, Merlin took one look at Gwaine before he took off running. So many thoughts ran through his head, heart pounding as he and the other boys fled back to town, all numb with terror.
It took them ten minutes to make it, the mile and a half between the village and drowned farm never having seemed so vast, only to find the village perfectly fine. Peaceful, in fact. Gwaine shared a look with Merlin, wondering what the matter was.
They learned a minute later as Arthur strode up, leading the group to his house with hard eyes, hands clenched as tears filled his oceanic eyes.
As the group of men crowded into the small house, Merlin's eyes landed instantly on the cause of Ygraine's distress. And he couldn't help the helpless gasp he let out, falling to his knees.
Because there, lying on the kitchen table they had eaten breakfast on just that morning, was young Ewan. Eyes glazed in death.
No. No, no. No. He'd sent Ewan to be a lookout to keep him safe. He was the youngest of the group. The baby. Barely sixteen, full of swagger and bravado. He'd had so much life in him. He couldn't…
He watched, eyes numb as Arthur strode forward and grabbed the note Merlin hadn't noticed with shaking hands that he tried to hide with a stony expression. Merlin could only watch as his face paled, gasping with emotion as he looked at his friends in horror.
"They know we're planning something. We might not have any choice. I think they're planning to attack tonight."
Everything crumbled around him at the words, heart shattering as the words rushed over him. No. His plan was good. It was solid. How...
They should have done it earlier. Had Merlin not been so selfish, so determined to stay here despite knowing the danger they all were in, this never would have happened. He should have marched into that forest and killed those men before they ever had the chance to even look at Ewan. Should never have gone into the forest to give the warning in the first place, alerting the renegades to possible trouble. The boy's death was on his hands.
"-Merlin, don't. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault-" he distantly heard Gwaine entreat, begging him to look at him, away from the body. Merlin felt his magic wrap around him when Gwaine tried to drag him away, pushing the man back, gently but firm. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to feel his failure. He wanted…
And then Arthur was there, arms around him, holding him tight, body blocking the view of the dead body. Merlin squirmed, magic rising around him like a fog, but the boy remained unaffected. Curse that damned medallion he'd given him all those months ago. He suddenly hated it, as sobs filled his chest, head buzzing with useless noise.
It wasn't fair. He'd planned so carefully. Down to the last detail. He'd overlooked nothing. He supposed, though, that he'd overlooked the intelligence of the renegades. They must have discovered which town they were from. Must have learned somehow. He hadn't planned carefully enough. How could he have? He was just a boy. He'd never gone into battle before. He was a child playing grown up, swagger and bravado, his naivety and foolishness having ended up killing one of Arthur's friends.
But he had to get it together. He had caused this. He was responsible.
And now he had to make it right.
And so, he carefully peeled Arthur off him, startling the other boy with how silent he had fallen, eyes hard as steel as he stood and looked at the other men, lost in their mourning. But they had work to do. They had mere hours 'til nightfall. They needed to work quick.
"We can still salvage the plan. Percival, Lancelot, I need you to take the others and grab the remaining bombs, to gather the ones you can and return here as fast as you can. Arthur, Gwaine, you need to evacuate the town. Get them somewhere safe, somewhere they won't be hurt. I will not let anyone else die tonight. We will fight as we have planned, we'll just have to adjust it to the town instead. You all know this village better than anyone. You'll know how to defend it. They will pay for what they have done here. I swear it. I will make them pay."
It was hardly the speech of the century. He's heard his father deliver far finer speeches, his words soothing even the angriest of men, inspiring the most downtrodden. It was during those moments that Merlin had respected his father most, seeing the hardened warrior he was, the battle-weary king, inspiring the masses with simple words and strength alone. He wasn't like his father, though. Not in any regard, but especially not this one.
But his words had the intended affect. The men around him, Elyan included, drew themselves up and nodded grimly. Merlin watched as Lancelot and Percival led the men back to the farm, running as quick as they had to get here. He hoped they'd be quick enough.
Gwaine and Arthur lingered, twin looks of concern on their faces, but he just shook his head sharply.
"You have to go. Both of you. They'll listen to you if you tell them to leave. Bring them to another town if you must. Or into the fields. Return before sundown, though. I need you both here if we want to have any chance of surviving the night."
"I won't leave you here alone," Arthur claimed, eyes hard. Gwaine nodded, for once in perfect agreement with his former friend. Merlin just smiled sadly, shaking his head.
"I'd only slow you down. Please. This was my fault. I messed up. Let me fix this. Let me make it so no one else has to be hurt. Please, Arthur. Gwaine. I beg you. I'll be okay. I swear."
He could see the resistance. Could see their concern and fear for him. But, thankfully, they both nodded. And then they were gone, leaving the house to do what was needed of them. To save their village.
Leaving him alone with the dead body of his gravest mistake.
Swallowing thickly, he walked over to the dead boy, his mouth open and eyes glazed as he slept eternally. Merlin felt his blood run cold at the sight, but he had to do this. Had to lay the boy's spirit to rest, in the ways of his forefathers.
As the words came from his lips, the words having never been taught but were born within him, he felt his eyes flash gold as the world ceased to move around him. He recited the prayer, the spell, as well as he could, his words never faltering. And, as he finished the prayer, the world moving around him once again, the sounds of panicked villagers meeting his ears, he liked to think he saw a grateful smile on the young boy's still, cold face.
Final rites done, Merlin headed up to the room he technically didn't stay in but kept his stuff in to keep up appearances. He had a lot of work to do.
~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~
It wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't enough. He looked around, eyes tight with worry and fear as he breathed out heavily at the sight he saw.
The town was empty of all inhabitants. Arthur and Gwaine had teamed up and had inspired the villagers to follow their words, to take only what they could carry as they evacuated the area. They were truly a force to be reckoned with when they worked towards a common goal. Merlin couldn't see any of Arthur's friends, but that was a good thing. It meant they were safely hidden, their hiding spots not obvious. He, himself, stood boldly in the middle of the village, eyes hard and hands folded, like he was merely waiting for a visitor to enjoy a spot of tea.
Merlin spared a thought to the last conversation he had shared with Gwaine, hoping to the gods that it wasn't actually his last conversation with the man.
It had been when Arthur and Gwaine had returned to inform him that the villagers were safely away, Merlin overseeing the men who were planting the hidden bombs as far from any house as they could, but knowing that some damage might occur.
He'd looked at the two boys, both of whom held a special place in his heart, and he couldn't help but smile at them as they grew closer, Gwaine clearly wanting to reach out but knowing that Merlin was hesitant to do so around Arthur. Thankfully, Arthur realized that and, swallowing an obvious lump in his throat, had nodded respectfully as he wandered off to join the other men, to help them set up. Merlin loved him, for that.
"So. This is it. Our final showdown. It's all a little exciting, eh?" Gwaine had grinned, trying his best to lighten the mood. And it had worked. A little. It had caused a tight smile on Merlin's face, at least, which had made Gwaine look satisfied.
Merlin had then shoved the charm in his hands into Gwaine's hand, eyes full of worry. Gwaine had just raised an eyebrow, holding the necklace out in bafflement.
"Ah, hadn't realized we were at the 'exchanging jewelry' phase of our relationship, my darling. You should have warned me. Now I feel the fool having gotten you nothing."
Merlin had actually laughed at that, the lightly sardonic words making his heart ache.
"No, you arse. It's a protection charm. I gave one to Arthur, once, months ago and it's kept him safe so far. This one is a little more powerful. It should protect you from minor to moderate magical spells. I've been working on it for the last few days, so I'm hoping it will keep you safe during the battle. And even after the battle, when we win, I want you to keep it. It will protect you where I cannot, while you travel. Please, Gwaine."
He had turned pleading eyes on the man, Gwaine looking impossibly soft at him, smile so very sweet. And then, apropos of nothing, not caring that his friends were all around them, Gwaine kissed Merlin passionately, causing a series of wolf whistles to sound as the men took a moment from their too serious work to tease their friend. And as Gwaine only raised his middle finger, lips still pressed firmly to Merlin's, he could hear Arthur barking at the other men to hurry up and quit lollygagging around. Merlin had tried to find it in him to care, but he hadn't been able to, worry too thick in his young mind. He had just wanted a moment of distraction. Just a moment.
"Well, my love. I fear it's not my style, but how can I deny such a sweetly given gift? I will wear it always. Cherish it, always. I vow that to you, Merlin Emrys. I vow."
And then Gwaine had sauntered off, draping the medallion over his neck as he went, shuddering as the power filled him but not stopping in his determined steps to his position.
And now he was here. Standing in the middle of the street awaiting a band of renegade sorcerers.
Arthur by his side.
He had tried to deny the man, tried to insist he'd be fine alone. But Arthur had just glared at him and said, in such simple words, that "I promised you wouldn't ever be alone again. And I stand by it now. Don't make me punch you."
And really, how could he counter that?
So. The sun began to set as dread began to fill in. Morgana and Freya had gone to the sorcerers to act as watch out, Merlin beyond afraid for them, but trusting the girls would watch out for each other. Gwen was currently with the other men, having refused Elyan and Arthur's request to join the rest of the village, demanding she be allowed to help. So she was lying in wait for her cue, like all the other men.
Now all that remained was waiting.
Merlin almost thought that they had all been wrong. That the renegades weren't going to show.
But then, as the sun finally set, a false dawn filled the night as a flash of light burst into the air. Merlin felt his magic sing as he deflected the light from harming one of his friends. His friends, he thought, heart clenching as the magical assault began.
Merlin had expected this. Had been prepared for the barrage. He just hoped he was strong enough to hold out against it.
Long minutes passed as the sorcerers sent attack after attack, trying to penetrate Merlin's wall of defense. But as the minutes passed, the renegades began to realize that they would get nowhere if they kept their distance. And so, they entered the town, sneers on their faces as they rushed Merlin and Arthur.
Right into their trap, Merlin thought with a grin, hearing his friends cry as one as they popped out from their hiding spots and threw the bombs as hard as they could.
The death that occurred then… oh, it made Merlin's heart clench, stomach gagging as he watched the skin melt off one man as he screamed desperately, watching another man turn inside out as two magic bombs hit him and interacted far more violently than Merlin had anticipated. He could feel vile rising in his throat but pushed it down. There were bigger things to worry about, now.
Such as the leader of the renegades, looking angry as sin as he stormed into town, his magic batting away the bombs like they were nothing. Merlin made sure to use some of his magic to protect his friends, relieved as he did so. However, his moment of distraction allowed the enemy sorcerer the ability to hit him with a spell before he could block it. Luckily, it was one that was easy for him to counter before it took hold, and he hurtled a spell back as soon as he could.
He heard Arthur yelling, but Merlin took a moment to push the man back, using as much energy as he dared, knowing he'd need a bit more to counter the medallion. It worked, allowing Merlin the luxury of fighting unimpeded.
The battle lasted what felt like hours. It likely was only ten minutes, but it was exhausting. He vaguely recalled seeing the others throwing their magic bombs, Freya and Morgana returned from their prior work to help out, but his entire focus was narrowed on the sorcerer before him. If he wavered, for even a second, then…
Then that was going to be his doom.
It was a mistake. A misstep. He had taken his eyes off the sorcerer for one second when he'd heard a scream, sounding too much like Arthur for him to ignore. He'd looked around, frantic, and hadn't noticed the vivid red light that had been hurdling towards him, magic thick with evil, until it was too late. He stared at it with wide eyes, even as he put up as thick a block as he could. But he was getting tired. The other sorcerer was far greater than Merlin had given him credit for. And he could only watch as the spell hurdled right towards him. He could only spare a thought that the others survived this, even as his eyes closed in resignation.
And then he'd felt a weight press against his side, a shout loud in his ears. And then he was falling.
For a second, as he laid in the dirt, marveling that he was still alive, he had a thought that he now owed Arthur his life for a third time. He'd been about to look down at the man, expecting to see a golden head, when he was distracted by the decidedly long, brown hair he saw. Hair that was attached to a head that was not moving which was connected to a chest that was far too still.
No.
"No," Merlin whispered, pushing his paramour into his back, heart dead and numb as he looked at the blank eyes that met his.
"No," Merlin stressed, shaking the man, heart pounding when the usually vivacious man stayed still and silent and dead, dead, he was dead, Merlin had killed him, oh God-
"No!" He roared, magic flaring within him, swirling around him like the breeze as he felt it fill him, his heart bleeding with grief.
It took nary a glance for the sorcerer he'd been fighting against to, quite literally, explode, Merlin's eyes pure gold as his magic flowed through him. He could sense the other sorcerers' fear, realizing that their leader was abruptly dead and that they should flee if they valued their lives.
But Merlin didn't care. Merlin's heart had frozen completely, mind still stuck on the dead eyes of a man he had grown to love far too much, much more than he had ever intended, and he let his grief fill him. He screamed as the magic flowed through him, filling the village, glass shattering around him as the remaining sorcerers exploded as well, no blood even as he destroyed their every atom until it was nothing more than dust.
And still he felt rage, such bitter anger, heart bleeding as he grieved.
"Merlin! Merlin, stop! You need to stop!" He heard a voice say distantly, but he couldn't hear them over the roar of the wind, rain come out of nowhere as the night sky flooded the land with his tears.
He hadn't been able to protect him. What good were his powers if he couldn't even save the people that he loved the most? What good was he if he could fail himself and others so utterly terribly? What good what he?! What good was he?! He screamed into the night, his sorrow raw and angry and bitter.
"Merlin! Please! He's not dead! Gwaine, he- he's still alive! But I need you to help me save him! Please, Merlin! Listen to me!"
That got his attention. He snapped tear filled eyes to the boy that was brave enough to chance his emotional storm (literal, he realized with a shock, a tornado having been forming around him), looking at him with such heartache and pain in his brilliant blue eyes that Merlin couldn't help but gasp, the storm dying down as he stumbled forward, eyes now snapping to the too still body that was lying in the square, Freya over it, the girl muttering soft words as her eyes filled with gold.
He stumbled over to the body (no, not body, it was alive, he was alive) and felt for any sign of life. And there it was. A small flicker. Heart stopping with hope, he utilized the power he had stolen from the sorcerers he'd mercilessly killed and harnessed it into healing the man who had willingly given his life to save his, though he'd never ask for it.
And as the man gasped, eyes shooting open as he took in his first breath, looking around in panic as he blinked in the rain that was still falling. As he laid there, looking so confused and lost and alive, Merlin couldn't help the way he fell to his knees and wrapped his arms so fiercely around the shoulders he knew all too intimately. Holding onto the man he had thought he had failed to save, like he had failed to save another, so close to him.
Gwaine held back, clutching to him as tightly as Merlin clutched to him. He was a little weaker than he should be, though, which broke Merlin's heart. But he was alive. Alive; warm and breathing and alive. Tears were still flowing down his face and the rain still poured his left over sorrow, but it was okay.
"Shh. Shhh, my love. I am here. I am alright. Shh. It's okay. There are no need for tears. We are both fine," Gwaine whispered into his ear, voice much weaker than it should be. Merlin forced himself away at the words, hands on Gwaine's face, before he kissed him tenderly. He didn't care who saw. The whole world could feel his pain right then, so it didn't really matter if they saw the pair kiss.
Eventually the rain stopped. As it did, Merlin felt drained, eyes blinking heavily as the power slowly left him, making him shaky and weak. He had tried to stand, so that the group could get Gwaine inside, dried off, and taken care of, but as soon as he stood he swayed dangerously. Gwaine let out a sound of concern, but before he could fall face first onto the ground, a warm body was beside him, a steady arm wrapping around his waist as he was pulled to a broad chest. A familiar broad chest. Merlin couldn't help his smile as he looked at Arthur, though it was strained and fractured. If the man didn't know his proclivities by then, then he was the stupidest person alive and Merlin didn't think he would even want to be in love with such a stupid man. It made him nervous, but all Arthur did was look at him tenderly, an exhausted smile on his face.
"Come on, let's go home. Gwaine is being taken to our room, so that we can look after him. I'm sure he'll hate that; if there's one thing he's proud of in his life, it's that bed of his. But I, for one, refuse to set foot in that… den of inequity," Arthur stated, nose wrinkling at his last words. It made Merlin laugh, even as his stomach sank. Ah. So he wasn't stupid. Well, that was good, at least.
Arthur noticed his fallen expression, making him look confused for a second, before realization struck. He cleared his throat awkwardly, even as they watched as Gwaine complained while Lancelot and Percival carried him to Arthur's house. A couple seconds passed before Arthur spoke.
"I don't mind," Arthur claimed, making Merlin look at him in confusion. While he had an idea of what the man was speaking of, he wanted to hear the words exactly. No pretense. Arthur continued, grimace on his face. "You. And… and Gwaine. I was concerned for you, when I first realized you were, you know. Together. I've known Gwaine so long. I've seen him flit from partner to partner. I expected you to be the same. To just… be a passing fancy. And I know how you love, Merlin. Deeply. Fiercely. Loyally. Anyone in your heart is a… a very lucky person."
Arthur paused, shifting as he swallowed thickly. Merlin just listened, pressed tight to the boy's side. Feeling his damp heat, his now bronze colored hair pressed to his face as his eyes simmered. It made him look like the hero from a romance novel. Fitting, since Merlin's life has turned into one.
"I've never seen Gwaine so willing to give his life for someone. He's always been so careless, but he didn't risk his life lightly. But he saw the red-light head towards you, same as I. He was closer though. Thank God he was. I… I can't say I understand. Well, maybe I do. But… I approve. If that's even something that matters. I know I'm just a servant, and you're a prince-"
"You're not," Merlin rasped, voice nearly gone from the rage he had just released. It was Arthur's turn to look at him in confusion, beautiful face awash in uncertainty, pink lips pulled down in a frown. More like a pout. God, how Merlin wanted to kiss them.
But he couldn't.
So, he didn't.
Instead, he continued, saying, "you're not just a servant, Arthur. I don't know if you realize this, but this isn't the sort of thing I'd do for just anyone. I don't risk my life easily, either, you know. You are a smart man, Arthur. More perceptive than you give yourself credit for. Figure it out on your own."
With that, Merlin felt the last of his energy leave him, fainting dead away. Before he passed out entirely, he heard Arthur shouting, saying something. Then he felt himself get swept up into warm arms. Like a girl, he thought humorlessly.
And then he thought nothing more.
A/N: Ahhh. So, the thing with Gwaine. When writing it, I loved it! I was like "oh, this is gold! The best! So romantic!" And now, this is the first time I've read this chapter since I wrote it, back in April. And... Yeah. Not what I wanted it to be. Too over dramatic, and fast. But I've no idea how to fix it without rewriting the whole thing, and I'm too tired to do that right now. Maybe I'll do that eventually, but there were many points in this chapter where I had to take a step away or else I'd be cringing with how dramatic this is. I'm not a romantic person, so the whole "we're in love!" after knowing each other for maybe a few days thing is just... euch. I think this is what it's like to look back on a whirlwind romance... I wrote this whole story in a month, so all of these chapters were written in, like... a week? And now, with time and perspective, it's just... eh. But seeing as Merlin literally was dead set on leaving his destiny behind in canon, after knowing Freya for only a few days, I don't think it's OOC, at least...
Regardless! For anyone who is like "but what? I thought this was a Merthur fic!" It is! I promise! I just wanted to have Arthur realize that Merlin isn't going to just... wait for him, you know? And if he wants Merlin, he has to put effort in. Which will happen! Eventually...
Thanks for reading! It makes me happy to know people are enjoying this story, even if I'm still on the fence about it. That's why I post. I write for me, since I like it. I post because I want to share it with people who may find meaning from it. :-)
Also, poor Ewan. :-( Someone had to die, like in canon, and he got the short end of the stick. 3