Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin. I wish!

Author's note: So, first time posting- in any fandom- and would really appreciate feedback!

And a big thanks to those who reviewed, and favorited the story. You made my day!

Gwaine sighed and looked to his side. Merlin was walking with him only because he had his arm in a tight grip. Earlier, when he'd seen him leaning against the pillar, gaze fixed on the newly-weds, he'd looked so miserable that Gwaine's heart had gone out to him. He'd tried to not let pity be seen in his eyes as he apologized (for the prat Arthur, he just knew the nobles were never worth it) but had failed as Merlin had turned away from him. The choked sound which had issued from his lips had torn at Gwaine, tugging and tugging on his heartstrings. He hated to see Merlin like this, just hated it. Merlin was all that was good left in Camelot, and he knew that should Merlin choose to leave, he'd follow him wherever he went without a backward glance to the King, knighthood be damned. Merlin was his friend first and foremost above all, (and was his only friend, the only person who he'd gladly die for).

So, in order to just try and ease some of his pain, he's decided to drag the young man to his most favorite place – the tavern. Merlin had taken one look at the path on which they were and had started protesting loudly, but he was not going to let that deter him (he couldn't let Merlin be alone right now, not now when he was so vulnerable.) And so they ended up at the Rising Sun, with two tankards of ale in front of them. His was almost half empty, but Merlin's was barely touched, as the man in question proceeded to glare into the drink, as if that were the cause of all his problems.

Sighing loudly, he reached out a hand and waved it in front of Merlin. Merlin blinked, and looked at him. "Are you going to drink that? If not, let me do the honor. It'd be such a waste to leave it like that," he said with his famous devil-may-care smile. Merlin's lips twitched, but he didn't do anything except push the tankard towards him.

Getting a little annoyed at his lack-luster manner, Gwaine finally snapped, "Would you quit moping? It's not the end of the world! If you want to know my opinion, then it's best that he got married to her. I mean, face it- he's an arrogant sod, and she's a bit of a slut. A match made in heaven! I say you should cut your losses and thank the god you escaped from his clutches! God only knows how much else he'd have made you suffer at his princely hands had you been with him." Taking a deep breath after his long rant, he looked at Merlin to see his reaction, and found him looking at him in an incredulous manner, mouth hanging open like a fish.

"I'm sorry but did you just call Gwen a slut?" Merlin asked in disbelief.

Gwaine nodded. "She is kind of a slut. I mean look- she hit on you when you first came here, then totally dropped you and turned half her affections to Arthur and half to Lancelot. She even flirted with me! So all in all, she's a bit boy-mad," he finished triumphantly.

Merlin continued looking at him as if he was touched in the head. Gwaine merely sipped at his ale, and leaned back with a devious grin on his face. Slowly, Merlin broke into a smile, and the tight fist around Gwaine's heart loosened a little. Merlin's smile had always been special. It had the ability to light up an entire room with its cheerfulness, and yet this smile didn't touch his eyes. Still it was a tiny start, and Gwaine wondered how long it would take to piece him back together. He was willing to do whatever it took to get his friend back.

Still smiling softly, Merlin looked at him and he could see the genuine affection he had for him reflected in those blue, blue eyes. His own smile softened at that, and he suddenly wished to just go and throw a gauntlet down in front of Arthur and challenge him to death for ever causing pain to this kind-hearted man sitting in front of him. But he knew Merlin would never forgive him if he ever harmed a single golden hair on the prat's head. Life was seriously unfair.

So busy was he in his contemplations that he didn't hear Merlin calling his name. "What?" he asked finally realizing he'd been calling him for some time now.

"I have to go," Merlin said, looking down at his hands, wringing them nervously.

"Go?" Gwaine asked puzzled. "Where?"

"Don't know. Anywhere that's not here. I can't stay here anymore Gwaine, I just can't."

Gwaine just stared at him, feeling a cold hand clench his heart. "You'll leave me here?" The alone was implied.

"I'll be back, you know that. I just- ," he broke off, voice cracking, and Gwaine understood it, understood why he had to go.

"Go," he said, surprised at the tender way the word came out.

Merlin looked up at him then, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. He tried to smile, but couldn't, the ache in his chest a foreign emotion.

"Just promise me that you'll be safe."

"I promise you Gwaine. And I will come back. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You better not empty all the beer and ale in the city by the time I return though!" he half-heartedly admonished, the tears in his eyes clumping the eyelashes wetly.

Gwaine stood up then, and in a swift move pulled him in a bear hug. He took a deep breath, trying to memorize the way Merlin felt in his arms, and trying to capture the smell of wind and freshly-cut grass which always seemed to surround him. Merlin hugged him back tightly, and then he was pulling away and smiling brokenly up at him, and before he knew it, was gone. The door to the tavern gently clicked shut, as if with an air of finality.

Gwaine blinked, and raised his hand to his cheek. It came away wet. Damn you Merlin, damn you. You made me cry.