It should have been a relatively short walk back to the castle, but it took Gwaine far longer than expected. As he tried to come to grips with what he had just seen, as he tried to comprehend that Merlin was a sorcerer, his feet slowed so that he was barely moving forward. With head bowed and feet dragging, Gwaine looked more like a recalcitrant child plodding home because he knew he faced trouble on his arrival than one of Camelot's finest knights. The man's mind was spinning with one thought:

Merlin has magic.

Merlin has magic.

Oh, Gods. Merlin has magic; like that bitch Morgana!

"How am I going to tell Arthur?" he moaned aloud. Whether or not he agreed with Camelot's rules regarding sorcery, the law was the law. Gwaine was duty-bound to tell Arthur that his servant was a sorcerer. And what about Gaius? Surely he, too, had a right to know that his ward was a user of magic? Gwaine scrubbed his fingers across his scalp and through his hair; the afternoon's events had left him with a massive headache.

By the time he arrived at the main gates to the castle, the dark-haired man was more confused than ever but no longer fearful of his … could Merlin still be called "friend", after what Gwaine had seen today?

While his first instinct had been to tell Arthur what he had witnessed, his walk back to Camelot had made Gwaine begin to question whether that was the proper step to take. After all, this was Merlin. Kind, gentle, tender-hearted Merlin.

Gwaine was not scheduled for guard duty until the next morning, so on his return to the castle he went directly to his chambers and firmly shut the door behind him.

He poured a mug of mead from his hidden stash and sat himself at his small table. His next steps would take some serious consideration. Not only was Merlin's future in Camelot at stake, any decision that he took would have far-reaching consequences. With a shock, he realized that he literally held Merlin's life in his hands. There was risk here, and Gwaine needed to find the best way through the morass.

Sitting at the table, his index finger idly drawing swirls and loops in the moisture rings his mug had left on the table top, Gwaine began to focus his thoughts.

"Merlin has magic," he whispered aloud with awe in his slightly shaky voice. "Stop it!" he admonished himself in a firm voice. "All right, so Merlin has magic. Focus, Gwaine, you've got some serious decisions to make."

Slowing drinking his mead, Gwaine cast his thoughts back to the first time he had met Merlin. Merlin and Arthur had made their presence known in the small tavern in whatever village that had been – he had never learned the name of the place. Then, when a brawl had broken out all because Arthur couldn't help but stand up to a bully, what a fantastic fight that had been!

Thinking back on it now, Gwaine realized that Merlin came out of that debacle unhurt … a surprising feat for a mere servant who bore no arms and didn't look strong enough to hurt a fly.

As he sat and thought about the numerous hunting trips he'd been on, the lengthy patrols, the visits to the outer villages, Gwaine came to recognize that each and every time things appeared bleak, their luck would turn and they would emerge victorious and relatively unscathed.

That had to have been due to Merlin's intervention. It was not possible that Arthur, or anyone for that matter, could be lucky enough to face so many attacks and ambushes and still come out on top.

Gwaine sat at his small table, mulling over events of the past few years and soon came to understand that the one consistent factor to every fight they won, every ambush they survived, every failed attempt by Morgana to wreak havoc, was Merlin. Though Gwaine had no absolute proof, it was obvious that Merlin was using his magic to keep Arthur, to keep all of them, safe.

He recalled the time he and Merlin had followed Arthur through the Perilous Lands to the Fisher King's Tower. The wyverns they encountered had been terrifying, but in the end were defeated relatively easily. Could that have been due to Merlin's magic?

Then, not long after that, he ran into Arthur and Merlin again – though that time all three were captives of the slave trader Jarl. Hmm, he mused, the fire that allowed us to escape came at a pretty convenient time. And of course there was the mess when Morgana seized the throne, took over Camelot and imprisoned Uther. There was so much action occurring when they tried to re-take the citadel, that the sudden end to the fight was surprising. Without doubt Merlin had summoned up his magic to aid them once again.

The more he reflected, the more Gwaine saw the indications that Merlin had been consistently, yet surreptitiously, performing magic for years. He certainly went about it in small and subtle ways, but always to their benefit. Gwaine began to hope that everything he thought about his friend – his kindness, his gentleness, his willingness to help – wasn't a lie and that Merlin truly was one of the good ones. It certainly bore more thought.

The knight was pulled from his lengthy musings by the clanging of the dinner bell. Blinking his eyes against the dim light, he saw that he'd been lost in his thoughts for several hours. Thinking was hard and hungry work, but he'd finally come to a decision. He knew what to do about Merlin. Nothing. At least for now.

"But don't think I won't be keeping a keen eye on you, my lad," said Gwaine as he stood up and made his way out his room and towards the dining hall. While Merlin had not yet done anything to endanger or harm Arthur, that didn't mean that the warlock still couldn't turn against them. So, while the knight was willing, for now, to keep his peace, the moment he saw something the slightest bit off with Merlin he would not hesitate to go to Arthur and tell him what he had learned. That was not a conversation Gwaine ever wanted to have, but he was no coward and if exposing Merlin for what he truly was became necessary, then Gwaine would not hesitate to do so.

The next few weeks saw Gwaine keeping a close watch over Merlin and though the young servant was very careful, he was able to catch Merlin using his magical talents to prevent disaster on several instances.

On two separate occasions, they were being overrun by bandits and were fighting for their lives. The first time, a huge mountain of a man tripped over his own two feet and rather than run Arthur through with his spear, it ended up falling harmlessly to the ground. The second time a vine, that Gwaine would swear on his mother's head had not been there just seconds earlier, entangled a small man who was rushing towards Arthur's back with his axe raised high. Without warning, the attacker's feet were twisted up in the length of living rope and instead of cleaving Arthur's head in two, the axe instead ended up stuck in the attacker's own upper thigh.

If Gwaine hadn't been watching Merlin, he never would have noticed the warlock's small hand movements or seen his normally clear blue eyes glow golden momentarily. Not realizing that his actions had been observed, Merlin simply gave Gwaine a tiny smile when their eyes met across the skirmish.

And so it continued. The more Gwaine watched Merlin and studied the reasons behind his actions, the more the dark-haired knight came to realize that even though Merlin was a creature of magic, he was still the same old Merlin. It soon became obvious that Merlin would never use his talents to harm Arthur; rather, he often seemed particularly persistent in his attempts to remain at Arthur's side, no matter the potential danger to himself.

Gwaine finally began to breathe easier and relax his vigilance. He was certain now that Merlin was on their side and would take whatever steps necessary to ensure that Arthur would carry on and fulfil his destiny to become King of Camelot.

Yet, though Gwaine was feeling better about everything, it was obvious that Merlin was still missing Lancelot. At those few times when Merlin couldn't be found, or he was supposedly off collecting herbs and plants for Gaius, Gwaine took it upon himself to seek out the small hide-away that Merlin had made his own and check to see what the young man was doing there.

Each time Gwaine tracked Merlin to his small shelter in the rock face, he found the servant staring into the bowl, or calling forth images of Lancelot, and talking aloud to their lost companion. It made Gwaine wonder if Lancelot had known of Merlin's secret. It would make sense if Lancelot was aware that the young servant was a sorcerer, not only because of the two's close bond but also because of the tone of the discussions Merlin had with the empty air.

Then, one day, Gwaine was struck with a sobering thought. Obviously Merlin could not talk to anyone in Camelot about his magic, but what if Lancelot was the one person who had known Merlin's secret? What if Lancelot was Merlin's sounding board, so to speak? The loss of the other knight would mean that not only was Merlin was deprived of his dearest friend, he was now without any support or understanding voice. That would certainly explain why Merlin was so closed off these days, and why he seemed to be retreating from everyone.

Well, thought Gwaine, this is going to stop right now. I'll have to find a way to let Merlin know that I'm here for him.

A few weeks later, Arthur and his knights - and Merlin of course - were out on a hunting trip. Things had been quiet at the castle, so Arthur took advantage of the calm to leave behind the demands of his duties and escape into the woods with his friends for some manly shooting of furry creatures.

The weather on the first day had been perfect: sunny, slightly cool, with little to no breeze and nary a cloud in the sky. They had slept out under the stars, not even bothering to pitch their tents as the night sky had been clear and bright with starlight. The next day, though, the heavens opened and it poured all morning. By late afternoon, the downpour had turned into an annoying, persistent drizzle and all of them were frazzled and short-tempered. Still, it was good to be out of the castle, so everyone agreed to continue with the hunt.

The morning of the third day dawned and while it had stopped raining, the sky was overcast and threatening. But it never actually rained, so the small group decided to stick it out one more night and if the bad weather persisted, they'd return to Camelot the next morning.

Merlin, for his part, had been willing to return home by mid-morning of day two. He was tired, he was wet, he was sore and he was run off his feet ensuring that Arthur, Leon, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan were fed, their horses cared for, the camp set up and everything put in order before he found his bed at night.

Still, he had to admit that it was nice to get out of Camelot. Though the days of feeling like the walls were closing in on him were past, he still didn't feel completely at ease traversing the halls knowing that Lancelot would not put in an appearance at some point.

Late afternoon of the third day of their trip found the group halting at a small clearing that, miracle of miracles, was actually sheltered and relatively dry.

Merlin quickly dismounted, tethered his horse to a nearby gorse bush and was trying to unbuckle his bedroll and remove his saddlebags when he heard Arthur say, "All right. This looks perfect. Merlin, you can set up camp right here, gather some wood for the fire and get started on dinner while the rest of us forage to see what we can catch to add to the pot. Don't forget to pitch the tents and, when the fire is going, spread out our blankets and such so they can dry before we turn in."

Merlin glanced over to Arthur with an incredulous look on his face, sighed deeply and muttered, "Yes Arthur." It would take him hours to get everything set up.

Gwaine, for his part, had been trying to find the perfect time to speak with Merlin, without much success. It seemed that Merlin was always darting making sure everything was in order and on the rare occasion when the young man was seated quietly beside the fire, Arthur would plunk his behind down and start talking at Merlin.

This, however, was ideal. With everyone else gone, Gwaine was sure he could get Merlin to sit down for a few moments to talk, so he called over to Arthur, "I'll stay here with Merlin and give him a hand. Someone should stay with him, for safety's sake."

"Good point, Gwaine. All right men, let's get to it. The sooner we catch some dinner, the sooner we can eat!" With much laughter and joking, Arthur and the three knights made their way through the underbrush in search of dinner, leaving Merlin and Gwaine behind.

Reaching over to take the reins of Gwaine's horse, Merlin said, "Here, let me get her settled."

"It's fine, Merlin. I can do it; after all, it seems like you've got enough to do right now."

With a rueful chuckle, Merlin said, "You better believe it."

While Gwaine started grooming Merlin's horse, the younger man scurried around setting up the site. He unsaddled and hobbled the other five horses, leaving them with a promise to feed and brush them later. He gathered up firewood, filled the water skins and then proceeded to lay out all the blankets and tunics that were still damp from the previous day's rain. He had bits of clothing hanging off various convenient branches and twigs and the blankets were laid across a fallen log that he had manhandled into position near the fire.

Merlin had done all this without saying a word. He seemed lost in his thoughts and while Gwaine was anxious to speak with Merlin, he didn't want to disturb his friend.

Just as Merlin got everything settled in place and was finally sitting down with the cooking pot on one side of him and a few carrots and potatoes in his lap to clean and prepare for dinner, an unexpected strong wind blew up and all Merlin's hard work was undone.

The wind grabbed the tunics from the trees where they had been hung to dry and sent them fluttering around the camp. The blankets were lifted and blown around, including into the fire. Fortunately, the one blanket that landed on the flames didn't burn, but it did douse the flames. When he jumped to his feet to rescue their belongings, Merlin managed to send the carrots and potatoes flying, knock over one of the un-stoppered water skins and kick the cooking pot across the clearing.

Looking dejected, the young man only sighed deeply and began gathering up all their belongings before they disappeared forever on the back of another strong wind.

Watching his friend, Gwaine spoke without thinking. "Merlin," he said, "why don't you use your magic to set up camp? It would certainly go a lot quicker and be much easier on you."

"Wha … Gwaine … how …" stuttered the terrified young man as he dropped everything he had been carrying to the ground. How did Gwaine find out I have magic? he screamed internally. Merlin felt his blood turn to ice and sink into his feet. His face was pale, his eyes were wide, he began shaking and he couldn't catch his breath.

Seeing the results of his unthinking comment, Gwaine quickly came to Merlin's side and grasping his arm, led him to the nearby log. He pushed Merlin to sit and then, placing his hand on the back of Merlin's neck, pushed his head down between his knees. "Breathe Merlin. It's okay. Everything is okay. Just breathe," coaxed Gwaine.

It took several minutes before Merlin regained control of himself and, raising his head, he looked at his friend. Gwaine had never seen anyone look as scared as Merlin did right at that moment.

"Gwaine," whispered Merlin through bloodless lips.

"Oh, Merls, I'm sorry. I didn't think," said Gwaine with a regretful tone. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"How did … how long … ohhhh," moaned Merlin as he cradled his head in his hands, tears springing to his eyes. "What happens now, Gwaine?"

"What do you mean, 'what happens now'? I think that's pretty obvious. We're going to get this camp set up before Arthur and the others return, and then we're going to have dinner and relax by the fire," answered the knight.

Merlin looked at his friend like he had lost his mind. "That's not what I meant and you know it," he snapped. "I know you've got to tell Arthur, but if you have any feelings for me at all, please let me leave before you say anything. I'll go quietly, I promise," he added in a whisper.

"Merlin, stop worrying. I'm not going to tell Arthur. From what I've seen over the past weeks, you'd never do anything to harm Arthur, though I will admit I was concerned when I first saw you do your magic tricks," said Gwaine.

"How did you find out my secret?" interrupted Merlin, his voice shaking.

"Well, remember that day when you dropped all those parchments in the puddle? I saw it happen. I was going to speak with you when you took off out the castle like the hounds of hell were after you. I was worried, so I followed you. I found your little hide-away and I was just about to announce myself when I saw you create an image of Lancelot out of sand."

"Ohhh," breathed the warlock. "But … you've not said anything since then? That was weeks ago!"

"I know. Believe me, originally I had every intention of telling Arthur the minute I got back to the castle but on my walk back, my brain kicked me in the butt and reminded me that this was you, Merlin."

Gwaine stopped speaking and stared blankly at the ground in front of his feet, his elbows on his thighs and his hands hanging limply between his knees. He couldn't meet Merlin's eyes and that one small fact scared Merlin more than Gwaine knowing that he was a sorcerer.

An uncomfortable silence grew between the two men. Merlin shifted on his seat and hunched his shoulders. He was afraid to speak, but he had to say something. He was about to open his mouth when Gwaine continued speaking.

"I'll admit I was scared Merlin, really scared, when I saw you that first time. I was ready to run back to Camelot, find Arthur and tell him everything. All I kept thinking was that you were just like Morgana," said Gwaine as he gave his friend an apologetic look.

Merlin couldn't control the small huff of indignation that escaped his lips. Gwaine smiled and said, "I am really sorry that I ever painted you and that … that … woman with the same brush. It was just … well. You know."

"I do know," said Merlin in a low voice, "and I think that's my greatest fear."

Gwaine's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand," he said.

"I'm scared all the time, Gwaine. I'm scared that Arthur will find out about my magic; I'm scared that one day something will happen and I won't be able to control myself; I'm terrified that I'll become another Morgana – seduced by the power of magic and wanting to use it to control everything and everyone around me." By the time he had finished speaking, Merlin was once again white-faced and his hand were trembling.

Gwaine reached over and grasped Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, don't worry so," he said firmly. "First of all, you are nothing like Morgana and could never do the things she's done. Remember when I said that my first instinct was to tell Arthur all about you, but my brain finally got working?"

"Yeah," whispered Merlin.

"That's because I finally remembered that you are the kindest, gentlest, most trustworthy person I have ever known. Merlin, you don't have a mean bone in your body and I think I know you well enough to say that nothing could ever make you become like Morgana. You are too concerned about others for that to happen! And, now that I know what you can do, I'll always be there for you and to keep a friendly eye on you. Always, Merlin."

Merlin stared at Gwaine through his lashes, a mixture of shock, joy and trepidation on his face. "But Gwaine, do you understand the peril you are putting yourself in by not telling Arthur what you know? If he ever finds out that I have magic and that you knew and never said anything …"

"Well," said Gwaine with a small chuckle, "we'll just have to make sure that never happens!" After a few moments of silence – a comfortable silence this time – Gwaine continued speaking. "And Merlin, one thing I have learned these past weeks is how much Lancelot meant to you. He knew, didn't he? He knew you had magic, and he kept your secret."

Merlin nodded his head, too emotional to speak.

"Well, I've seen what you've been like without a friend to speak to and … well … I just want you to know that if you ever need someone to rant to, if you ever are looking for someone to listen, I'm here for you. While I know I can never take Lancelot's place, I'd be honoured if you would allow me to help you in whatever way I can."

"Believe me, Merlin, it doesn't matter to me that you can do magic. Gods, I couldn't care less if you wore a dress and danced a jig every Friday night in the tavern as the evening's entertainment! All that matters is that you are my friend, and when you are in pain I will do everything in my power to help you."

Merlin sniffed and dashed his hands across his eyes to wipe away the tears that threated to fall. "Thank you, Gwaine," he said in a fervent tone. "You have no idea how much your words and your friendship mean to me."

"Ah, Merls, it's nothing," said the dark-haired knight as he jabbed Merlin's ribcage with his elbow. Looking around the messy clearing, he added, "Enough of this serious talk. Let's get to work and get this campsite set up before the others return. C'mon," he said, and standing up he reached down his hand to Merlin.

Merlin looked at the hand, looked up into Gwaine's face and for the first time in months he smiled; really smiled. He grasped Gwaine's hand and once he was on his two feet, he pulled the other man in for a quick, but meaningful, hug.

"Thank you, Gwaine," whispered the warlock. "Thank you for everything!"

By the time Arthur and the others returned, bearing with them a few rabbits and a couple of grouse, everything had been put back in order. The horses had been brushed and fed and now stood drowsing in the shade. The tents had been put up, the bedrolls had been dried and placed inside the tents and the various articles of clothing had also been dried and carefully folded. There was a pot of water bubbling next to the fire and the cooking pot was awaiting the addition of the rabbit and fowl.

Arthur was impressed at how comfortable their little home-away-from-home looked, but what left him incredulous was the sound of Merlin's laughter as he stood at the far side of the clearing, joking with Gwaine. Merlin's laughter was something he hadn't heard for months and hearing it now brought home how much he had missed it!

The night sky was bright with the moon's glow and it filled the small clearing with a soft, white light. Arthur's turn at watch was over and from his seat on a well-placed rock he heard the footsteps of his replacement heading towards him.

Knowing that Gwaine was the one who had the next watch, without turning around Arthur said, "Thank you, Gwaine."

"Arthur?" asked the dark-haired knight, clearly perplexed by this non-sequitur.

Arthur ceded his place to Gwaine, sheathed his sword and continued, "I don't know what you said to Merlin while the two of you were setting up camp, but he's smiled more tonight than in months. I even heard him laugh once or twice!"

The two men glanced over to the sleeping form of the man in question. He was just visible through the open flap of the tent he was sharing with Arthur, curled up in his blanket and with only a dark thatch of messy hair exposed.

In a softer tone, Arthur added, "I've been really worried about him. He's been so quiet and withdrawn since Lancelot's death … and I didn't know how to help him."

Gwaine smiled at the sleeping form of his friend, turned back to Arthur and said, "Sometimes, Arthur, people just need reminding that they have friends who love them."

A/N: And so we come to the end. Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favourited and offered support for both myself and this story. I really appreciate it! As always, special thanks to my wonderful beta, sarajm, without whose encouragement this story never would have seen the light of day.