I am not as happy with this chapter. Or the next one that I am in the middle of writing. But I could not figure out how to fix it.

Also, I just wanted to say that I'm never quite sure if it is all right to respond to reviews (I don't want to scare anyone off), but I appreciate them all, and they really encourage me to write. Thank you so much! :)

...

Merlin was obsessed with milk.

Arthur discovered this fact for the first time whenever the cook demanded to have an audience with him and then proceeded to drag Merlin in by the ear protesting the whole nine yards.

Since Arthur was still paying penance for unjustly "firing" Merlin, he felt awkward at the whole situation.

"Well? Aren't you going to do somethin' with 'im?" Cook charged. "'E's always comin' into my kitch'n, stealin' buns and other sweet things. That, I can handle, what with 'im being an underfed boy. But all my milk?"

"Sorry," Merlin muttered.

Cook looked only slightly sated. "'E's worse than Sir Gwaine in the wine cellars!"

"I will pay you back for every single drop of the extra milk that Merlin took," Arthur said.

"Oh, thanks." Merlin quit shuffling his feet.

"Don't thank me. It's being taken out of your salary. As will any more excessive tankards...or whatever you call them."

Merlin was obviously not happy with the decision, but Cook released his ear, which her grip on had been slowly slipping because Merlin was at least a foot and a half taller than she was.

"Good." She uncrossed her arms. "Thank you, Your Highness." Without further ado, she turned and stomped from the room.

Arthur crossed his arms. "Now, Merlin, would you care to explain what in fae was that?"

…

At the next practice of the knights, Arthur took Gwaine aside. "Listen, I want you to keep an eye on Merlin."

Gwaine quirked an eyebrow. "More than usual?"

"Yes. We have a problem on our hands. I think he is an addict."

His second eyebrow raised to join the first. "Oh, he is? I never would have guessed it."

It was hard to tell whether he was being serious or not.

"I held counsel with Cook earlier this afternoon. Keep him away from the tavern," Arthur directed.

"Isn't that sort of like asking the fox to guard the henhouse?"

"Yes, but if he gets this way with milk, imagine what he'll do with alcohol."

Gwaine's eyes went wide. "Milk? Not the milk!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I'm being serious."

But Gwaine's face was breaking out into a crooked grin. "That's a good joke, Arthur. I was beginning to think you were turning into Lord High and Mighty for a while there, but you fooled me."

"Gwaine. I'm being serious."

Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder. "Wait until I tell it to the rest of them." Chuckling, he walked off.

Arthur sighed.

…

Arthur propped his elbow on the side of the chair and rested his cheek on one or two of his splayed fingers. The council room was stuffier than normal, but Uther for some unknown reason detested using servants to move the air about a bit.

Arthur despised council meetings. Unless Uther prematurely called one, they were usually boring and dealt with issues such as corn disputes and the color of the ceremonial draperies used at the preceding year's festival.

Merin wasn't doing his job, either. Although Arthur instructed him to keep his goblet running over, Merlin either forgot because he was too busy admiring the painted gallery on the ceiling or looking out the window.

If Arthur had been younger, he would have been tempted to gaze out at the free world as well. The first time he had done it, however, Uther had punished him, so he was forced to make all appearances of being at attention.

About half of his goblet remained full. If he was patient, he could make the rest of it last the whole evening even though it was distasteful to only wet his tongue every once in a while.

Discreetly, Merlin coughed behind him, and Arthur straightened his marginally slouched position.

"Although we have clashed with him in the past, King Cenred has requested that we send a battalion to aid him in driving away barbarians."

At the word barbarians, Arthur's interest was slightly piqued.

"I am considering sending him a group."

Now, Arthur was definitely interested. "But you just pointed out, Father, that we have not exactly been on good terms with King Cenred." At the moment, he could think of no logical reason to accede to the request.

"I am aware of that." Uther looked down at the missive. "King Cenred, however, has agreed to pay for our services, and I believe that agreeing would also serve in Camelot's best interests."

"Really." Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Uther said impatiently. "These barbarians are always causing trouble at our borders. Let conflict happen where fewer of our subjects are destined to be hurt."

Arthur toyed with the stem of his goblet. "Very well. Whom are you sending?"

Uther flicked a hand. "You and your men may go. I believe they are looking for a bit more action than frolicking through the woods."

Behind Arthur, Merlin hacked, choking on something.

In annoyance, Arthur half-turned. "Do you mind?" he asked harshly.

"Sorry," Merlin coughed out. "Air went down the wrong pipe."

Uther was neither pleased at the interruption nor the excuse. He wrinkled his nose.

"When do you want us to leave?" Arthur asked, mentally going through everything that he (or rather, Merlin) would have to prepare.

"A week."

A week? A week was longer than he expected. Arthur would have given himself until tomorrow morning.

"I want to ensure that we receive the payment before we complete the task. I have grown no trust for Cenred."

Arthur nodded. It made sense. "All right. Is there anything else that we should know?"

"Yes. The farmers on the south side-"

Arthur tuned out the rest of the meeting.

…

"Make sure you tighten the girth," Arthur reminded Merlin. "And pack my bags. And have someone sharpen my sword."

"Or I could just use magic and do that for you," Merlin grumbled. "You owe it to me after passing my job along to someone else."

Arthur ignored him. "This time, would you mind packing some socks that don't have holes in them?"

"I darned the last pair as soon as you pointed them out."

"Three hours later."

"Details. You're not packing a lot of socks, anyway."

"That's why I want them to be devoid of holes." The last time it had happened, Gwaine had offered him a pair.

The smell. He would always remember the smell.

"All right. Anything else?" Merlin stopped bustling around the room for a moment and puffed. "Where are we going, anyway, that needs all this?"

"Essetir. More specifically, the charming village of Ealdor."

Merlin froze, the generally pleasant expression slipping off his face. "What?"

"Ealdor in Essetir. King Cenred's kingdom." Although it was quite possible that Merlin was unfamiliar with the surrounding nations because he had been asleep for an indeterminable period of time.

"We're going there?"

"Is your head made of mashed potatoes?" How many times did he have to repeat it for Merlin to understand.

"Sorry." Merlin backed away and snagged a pair of socks off Arthur's bed.

"I'll darn these for you," he offered. "Before the trip." Like a starving wary squirrel, he left the room, tripping over the corner of Arthur's rug on the way out.

…

The rest of the week, Merlin acted like a rabbit in the middle of a pack of wolves. Instead of the typical rapid-fire quips, he stuttered over his words, and he didn't even try to get away with magic once.

Arthur was slightly concerned (but not too much, because he was the prince of Camelot and Merlin was fae).

…

"It's good to be back in the saddle again!" Gwaine declared. "The wind in my hair, the sun on my face." Beneath him, his horse shook its mane in agreement as it ambled along.

Compared to the stuffy council room chamber, the outdoors were ten times as satisfying. In a generous mood, Arthur bent forward and patted his horse's neck.

"I'm looking forward to a night of sleeping underneath the stars," Percival remarked.

"Hey, Merlin," Leon said. "Do you know anything of the stars?"

The question reminded Arthur of one of his tutors who thought Arthur needed a proper education in the stars. Although at the time he had balked at the idea of being dragged out of his comfortable bed in the middle of the night, he had found a basic knowledge of the sky advantageous at times.

"Merlin," Elyan prompted.

Without looking over his shoulder, Arthur snorted. It was just like Merlin to fall asleep in the saddle on a perfectly bright, spring-like day.

"Merlin," Elyan tried again.

"Merlin, mate!" Gwaine called more loudly.

"Huh?"

Trusting his horse for a little bit, Arthur looked over his shoulder.

Merlin was staring down at his saddle horn. In his hands were Arthur's holey socks, and he was absent-mindedly pulling at a loose string. Almost subconsciously, he muttered something, and the thick knitted fabric began to weave itself back together. He looked up. "Sorry, I was thinking."

"Someone mark the date," Arthur jested. "An important event has occurred."

Merlin balled up the sock as though he were going to throw it at Arthur's head but then thought better of it because of the dusty road their horses were trampling on.

"Are you all right?" Lancelot asked as Arthur turned around again to face the path. "You've looked ill all week."

"I'm fine," Merlin insisted. "I've just been busy. You don't have to worry." He said the last word as though it were a swear word.

"We're not worried," Leon assured him. "But I'm downwind from you, and I want to make sure you're not going to puke off the side of your horse."

Thankfully, Arthur was very much upwind.

Merlin snorted. "I don't feel that ill."

"That ill?" To place a bit of distance between him and Merlin, Arthur nudged his horse forward a little more. Because of the delay, they should have been traveling faster than they were in the first place, and the rest of the knights followed suit.

"Can we just drop it?" Merlin asked sourly.

"Not if you're cooking our dinner," Gwaine said, a tinge of alarm coloring his voice. "Is it the plague?"

Now it was getting a little ridiculous. "I'm sure Gaius would have stopped Merlin from coming along if it were really serious," Arthur pointed out.

"Yes," Merlin agreed petulantly. "Now, as I heard some of the town children say the other day, shove off."

Several of the knights choked.

"Well, it's nice to know what you've been doing instead of your chores," Arthur remarked. First he charmed the castle staff and now the rest of Camelot.

"What, jealous I've got a better public image and relations than you?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

…

It took five days to reach Essetir.

During that time, Merlin looked positively ill and picked at his food instead of eating it and then stealing some off Arthur's plate when he thought he wasn't looking.

But since he had insisted it was nothing, Arthur ignored it and chalked it down to nerves over the prospect of an upcoming battle because of his distaste for blood. It was either a miracle or a stupidity that he had joined them or that he was Gaius's assistant.

On the third day, Percival called out, "Hey! Rider!"

Pulling out his sword, Arthur brought his horse to a halt and turned her around, the others following his lead.

Sighing, Merlin stopped his horse but didn't bother turning it around.

The first thing Arthur noticed about the rider was the skirt, which was closely followed by the curly hair loose from her cap and the worn traveling cape over her shoulders.

"Guinevere?"

At first, Arthur felt himself smiling at the fact that Gwen was there.

Then, he realized that Gwen was there.

Where she should not have been.

"Guinevere?!" Arthur urged his horse forward to meet her before the rest of the knights. "What are you doing here? It isn't safe for a young lady to travel alone on these roads. Shouldn't you be with Morgana?"

"It's perfectly all right," Gwen stated, stopping her horse when she and Arthur were facing each other. "And my father is a blacksmith."

Arthur did not see what that had to do with anything. "What are you doing here?"

From behind him, Merlin called out, "Oh, hey, Gwen! Good to see you!"

"No, it's not. Guinevere should be back at the castle helping Morgana," Arthur corrected. "Elyan, would you please escort your sister-"

Gwen pursed her lips. "I'm here on Lady Morgana's orders."

How Arthur knew his cousin had gone mad. "What?"

"Right after you left, King Uther started acting weird."

Lightly, Merlin laughed as he came up beside Arthur. "Wow. That's new." At the sound of his laughter, his horse tossed its mane and stomped a hoof.

No one else found it funny.

"How weird?" Arthur asked. "In what manner?"

"Well…" Gwen began. "As soon as you left, he became confused as though he didn't understand why you were missing or as though he had forgotten that he had sent you out in the first place. He wanted to send out a search party, but Gaius managed to talk him out of it."

Arthur frowned. That was most uncharacteristic of his father. Uther held control of his mind in an iron fist (except where fae were involved).

"After that…" Gwen raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side a little. "His mind is a little...off. Like he's been bewitched or something. And I mean no disrespect, Your Highness. I am just informing you what Lady Morgana told me to."

"Did anything else happen?" Percival asked.

Lancelot was frowning. "How long after us did you leave?"

"A day. Frankly, I'm surprised that I caught up with you."

Arthur turned a baleful look at Merlin. "I do wonder why that could possibly be. Merlin."

Arthur had never met someone who could drag his feet from the back of a horse. It seemed to take twice as long to do anything. There had been at least three hours' delay after Melin decided it was a good idea to find flowers - something about their petals making tea leaves to calm nerves or some other medical mumbo jumbo, but Arthur knew it was because Merlin was simply a sissy who liked the smell.

"Sorry."

Gwen smiled at Merlin. "It's all right. It gave me a chance to catch up and tell you. Morgana wanted me to warn you that whatever we're going into might be a trap."

"We're?" Elyan frowned. "Gwen, I'm taking you right back to Camelot."

Arthur had a sinking feeling that Gwen was going to protest. Although they didn't interact much, from what he had heard from Morgana and generally, she did not back down easily despite her pleasant nature.

Since the knights were too awkward around Gwen, Elyan proceeded to argue with her. "What purpose does it serve?"

Gwen frowned. "I don't exactly know."

"It's foolish," Elyan told her. "There are barbarians waiting in Essetir."

"I know that. It's just…" Gwen let out a small sigh of frustration. "I don't know how to explain it. I just know that I ought to come. Gaius was concerned about Merlin before we left. Surely I could be of help somewhere. I can cook."

Merlin sputtered.

"Oh, good!" Gwaine mimed wiping his brow. "Merlin has been declared sick. I don't think I could go another day tasting Elyan's stew - if that's what it really is."

"Hey!" Leon defended himself. "I did the best I could."

Arthur wouldn't mind having Gwen around.

Wait, no, he needed to focus on the practical part of the situation. "It might not be safe back in Camelot," he pointed out (truthfully).

Elyan's frown deepened. "If it's not safe for her back in Camelot, then we should return to defend it."

"Defend it from what?" Leon asked.

"I don't know!" Elyan clenched a fist.

"She came all this way," Merlin piped up. "I don't think it would be a good idea to send Elyan all the way back to Camelot. I like Gwen. Don't you? Besides, you owe me."

"Pardon me?"

"Who owes you, Merlin?" Lancelot asked.

"Arthur." Dropping the reins, Merlin crossed his arms. "He tried to fire me, remember? Letting Gwen join us is how he can make it up to me."

Arthur was insulted - the nerve. "I don't have to make anything-"

"I suggest," Lancelot interrupted politely, "that we get moving. We may already be too late."

"Yes," Merlin agreed. "The west wind is feeling a little cold this evening."

Confused, Gwen smiled at him. "Well, let's be off, then."

Elyan's face portrayed the dissatisfaction that Arthur was partially feeling, but they were sorely outnumbered.

"Welcome to the troops, Lady Gwen," Gwaine said magnanimously as he aligned his horse with hers when their line of horses resumed their journey. "May I entertain you with a song or two?"

"Leave her alone, Gwaine," Arthur snapped. "She doesn't want to be bothered by you."

"No, no, it's all right." Although she didn't turn red, Gwen smiled again. "I would love to."

Out of nowhere, Merlin's horses was suddenly beside Arthur's. "Your eye is twitching," he helpfully observed.

"Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin lowered his voice and looked back over his shoulder at Gwen and Gwaine. "Do you...do you like Gwen?"

"Of course not!"

"Your face tells me otherwise. Hmm. Gwen and Gwaine. Their names go together, don't they?"

Merlin was as far away from being helpful as the stars were from earth. "It never crossed my mind," he said through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure you don't like her?"

"I said no. She's a commoner, Merlin." Surely Merlin knew about basic protocol when it came to royal marriages.

"So what? I'm fae."

"Keep your voice down. She might hear you." Although Gwen's heart was golden, Arthur was unable to ascertain what she would do if she knew that Merlin wasn't human. It would definitely upset her since she and Merlin seemed to be so chummy.

Merlin shrugged.

Arthur searched around for something to change the subject before the idea stuck in Merlin's head like a feather in tar. "Besides...you and she seemed to be...well-acquainted with each other."

"Yes," Merlin said. "No. Yes. But not in the way you're thinking, Arthur."

Arthur snorted. "Really? You two seem to like each other a lot."

"Really." Merlin's voice quieted. For half of a minute, he said nothing, a far-away look in his eyes. "I think...I think I loved someone once. I think her name was Freya. I don't think there's going to be another Freya ever."