Merlin had gone.

Gaius hadn't seen him since this morning, and the Queen hadn't seen him, and Leon and Percival hadn't seen him, the kitchen staff and the laundry ladies and no one had seen him.

He'd been quiet, of course, distant, a bit sullen—but who wasn't? Gwaine was still easily tired and Percival still had pain in his back, and though they were growing stronger day by day, the fact remained that the King had only died a few days ago. Gwen still wore black and cried when she thought no one was looking. Everyone was morose and listless, some even afraid. Gwen was afraid it was too soon to speak of regime changes publicly, but in private she drew up documents for the repeal of the ban on magic, appointing Gaius as Court Sorcerer, to be succeeded by Merlin. It was time everyone knew. It was time for Camelot to enter its Golden Age—with or without her King.

In all this, Gwaine never thought Merlin would just up and leave like that.

He saddled his horse and tore out the front gate of the castle, at first straining high to peer out onto the plains, and then leaning low to look for tracks.

He couldn't be gone! He couldn't just leave—not after all of that! Not if they were all meant to be immortal together—

Gwaine would find him. He would find him if it took him forever, because they had forever, and he would kill Merlin because he could. If he was stuck alive forever to keep Merlin company, Merlin sure as hell didn't get to run off like this, whether he was sulking or not.

Merlin didn't want anyone seeing him leave. He took one of the unfamiliar horses from the stable and left Camelot before dawn, traveling on instinct and vague memories of the lands he'd travelled through before reaching the lake. It'd only been a week, but it seemed like so much longer.

It took some doing, but he finally came to a familiar town, and found his way to the inn. He left his horse outside and went in to ask about two horses—his black one, and Arthur's bay—that he'd left here. He found them outside in the stable, along with two other familiar faces. Somehow, Gwaine and Percival's horses had found their way here, though that was not as surprising as it could be: this was one of the main inns in this part of the country.

In the end, he convinced the innkeeper to give him all four horses in exchange for helping around the inn for the rest of the day, especially considering whose horses they were. Merlin slept that night in the stable and left the next morning as soon as the sun was up, riding his horse and leading the other three. The horse he'd brought from Camelot he left with the innkeeper, though the man hadn't demanded he do so. It was the least he could do.

Gwaine was pushing his horse a bit hard, he knew, but there was no way he was letting Merlin get away with this one. You do not just back someone into immortality (all right, Perce helped) and then up and disappear to have a pout for a hundred years—or even a day. People bloody worried! It just wasn't done.

Gwaine might have passed the troop of horses with one rider over if he hadn't recognized the pale gold of Arthur's chief stallion (his heart ached for a minute, soaring in hope before he remembered), and he looked up.

Perched on the scrawny black nag in the middle, hands clutching the reins of the other three horses, was an even scrawnier boy with a blue shirt and a red handkerchief—

"MERLIN!" Gwaine bellowed, and charged at him.

The horses reacted as they were wont to do when charged, nearly dragging Merlin off his own horse before they realized they weren't under attack of some sort. Merlin realized he might be in trouble, but he couldn't really tell from the tone of the bellow if it was a "I'm glad to see you" or an "I'm going to kill you" or maybe a little of both. He fidgeted with the other horses' reins a little guiltily. "Hi, Gwaine," he said with as bright a grin as he managed these days. "I… um… What're you doing all the way out here?"

"I should ask the same thing of you!" Gwaine shouted, not caring that he was unnerving the horses. "Get down off of there before I knock you down!" he demanded, swinging down off his horse and yanking Merlin down to the ground with him. He shook Merlin roughly. "Where the hell were you? Where were you trying to go? Don't you dare try to leave—" and suddenly, there, he choked, tears thickening his throat, and he growled and pulled Merlin into a rough hug.

"I wasn't—the horses—" Merlin started, but didn't finish before Gwaine had dragged him from his horse. He dropped the reins as the horses backed away from the angry knight. "I'm sorry," he amended as Gwaine hugged him. He'd meant it as a surprise: bring their horses back, because he missed them and he knew Gwaine and especially Percival missed their horses. Arthur's horse had always been his job, besides that, and he'd failed Arthur at everything else. In this one thing, this one, little thing, he could do right by Arthur. He'd make sure his horse made it home, and was well cared for.

He tried to explain this to Gwaine, except he got two words in before his voice simply stopped. He stepped back from Gwaine and gestured at the horses. "I—I just— The horses," he said, gathering the reins of Gwaine's horse and holding them out to him. "I wanted to bring them home," he added. So he didn't have to feel he failed entirely.

"Is that all?" Gwaine shouted, still angry though for a different reason, and he laughed, wiping fiercely at his eyes and hugging Merlin again. "Dammit, Merlin—I thought you—I thought—" But now he was too ashamed to voice what he thought, so after a moment he held Merlin out at arms' length, his grip on both shoulders firm and warm. "Sorry," he said gruffly, and then laughed at himself. "You worried me, is all!"

"I didn't mean to take so long," Merlin said by way of explanation. But he understood Gwaine's unspoken worry—that he would leave and not come back. Merlin had considered it, briefly, when they'd first returned and he'd thought Gwaine would die, but he wasn't very well going to leave his best friend, or any of his other friends for that matter. And Gwen—Gwen had said something about magic the other day. So perhaps they would have their golden age,. He shook his head, scattering these thoughts.

"I didn't mean to worry you. I wouldn't leave, not now," he reassured his friend, reaching up with his empty hand to clasp Gwaine's shoulders briefly.

"Good," Gwaine said, his smile strained but laughter free and childlike. He held Merlin's gaze for a moment longer—'Sorry,' and 'Thank you,' he wanted to say, but didn't—before turning to the horses. "Hey, Studs," he said, going to the great black charger that was the horse only he was brave and stupid enough to ride, and stroked his ears: "Devoured any souls while I've been away?" Studly tried to bite him in return, so all was well.

"Sorry," Gwaine said finally. "Sorry that I thought—anyway. And thanks. I know you're not going to leave." He smiled shyly, begging forgiveness. He was still getting used to the idea of having friends at all, much less those whom he loved and those he could trust. It was a strange feeling: vulnerable but warm and safe.

At least he had eternity to get used to it.

...

END

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