He he. Thanks so much for the awesome reviews everyone- every single one makes me smile (like this- XD). I love hearing what people think works, or if there are any mistakes you feel should be pointed out. Basically, I just love hearing from you guys XD

Alright, so this chapter will be the first time I've posted anything on here from a nice OC's POV. Let me know if you think it works, and if you like Kennard as a character (please).

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Chapter 4

No-one ever thought of Kennard as observant. It was something to do with the way his vague, silvery eyes- such a contrast from the sharp, piercing amber of his elder brother, Mordon- would seemingly be staring off into the distance at most points during the day.

In actual fact, Kennard noticed more than most people would. He preferred to sink in to the background, taking in all the details, rather than be one of those who stood at the forefront. There were only two people currently in Camelot who seemed to have realized that Kennard wasn't the dimwit practically all of the other Knights thought him. Mordon, and Prince Arthur.

The Prince had intrigued Kennard from the time he first joined the Knights, about two months after Camelot had been besieged by the Great Dragon. Arthur was a brilliant ruler, true, but that wasn't what made the man stand out. There was a sort of frustrated sadness to the Prince- something Kennard had never before seen in a man only three years his elder. He had asked several of the other Knights, but all any of them would do was avert their eyes and mumble some sort of apology, before rushing off somewhere else. Finally, after a month of evasions, Kennard had secretly gone to ask his brother.

He would never have dreamed up what he had been told. Not in a million years.

Of course, he had known that the city had been attacked. But knowledge of how the sorcerer army had been defeated had been declared against the law to speak of the day after the incident. There had been whispers of sorcery being used in the counter attack (after all, what else could get the King so riled up), but no direct confirmation. And all rumours had fast died down.

But for the entire thing to have been ended by one man? For the Prince to have knowingly been harbouring a sorcerer as his best friend? For that sorcerer to now be imprisoned somewhere deep in the bowels of the castle?

It was unbelievable.

But it was true. It had to be. Because what else, during patrols, would make the Prince lie there at night, mumbling apologies in his sleep for broken promises- for failing this man named Merlin? Why else would he be constantly switching manservants? Why else would there be such a huge void between him and his father?

The amount of things which most people assumed Kennard knew. The amount he actually knew. The two were so vastly different it was scary.

For example, he was the only one who seemed to find it strange that, though the Prince hadn't changed in the four months Kennard had been in Camelot, both Arthur and Uther seemed to slowly be losing the loyalty of Camelot's Knights. Just those four short months ago the Knights' devotion to Prince Arthur had been intense, and seemingly unshakable. They were immensely proud of him.

So why were there now irritated glares?

Why were there stirrings of discontent?

Why were there angry, restless whispers?

There were so many questions. And as far as Kennard was concerned, the only conclusion, if Arthur hadn't changed, was that something had caused the Knights themselves to change.

But what?

"Guinevere."

The door closed behind the young maid, and within seconds the basket of clothes was on the floor, and Arthur had pulled her in to his embrace. They stayed like that for a short while, with him just breathing in her familiar scent, the feeling of her doing what nothing else could. Calming him. Even if only for a short while, he could finally let go.

"I missed you."

Something in his voice must have alerted Gwen to his previous distress, because she pulled apart from him. She took a few moments to study his face before a small sigh escaped her lips, and she turned away and picked up the discarded clothes.

"You shouldn't have done that Arthur. You knew that it would only anger him."

Of course she knew what had happened. She could always tell what was troubling him.

"Guinevere, please. You know that I needed to. Merlin-" He broke off, taking in the sudden tenseness of Gwen's shoulders, and the quick, worried, look she had shot at the door. He relented, as she must have known he would. And once again he was unable to even use Merlin's name.

Sinking down in to a chair, he watched as she began separating the piles of laundry. "He saved my life Gwen. Again."

Her hands paused in their work, only to continue a second later, accompanied by another soft sigh. "I thought it might have been something like that."

"Then you understand why I needed to do it."

"I understand Arthur. But you need to stop. You need to let this go- to be patient. The more you push your father, the more he'll push back."

"I know." He began massaging the bridge of his nose. "I know that, but-"

Silence. She didn't even look at him, simply carried one pile of laundry- the shirts- over to one cupboard and begun hanging them up.

"But Guinevere, I need to feel like I'm still fighting. I can't give up. After me, there's no-one left. If I stop, then Merlin-" He ignored her flinch. "Then Merlin will be completely forgotten."

That got to her. She span to face him, his heart almost stopping for a second at the sight of the tears swimming in her beautiful eyes. He had caused that. Him and his big mouth.

"Do you honestly think that, Arthur? That we've forgotten him? That we ever would?"

"No, but-"

"Then why-"

He moved over to her, gently wiping the tears from her eyes. This time, when he spoke, his voice was soft, pleading. Begging her to understand. "I didn't mean you. Or even Gaius. I feel like Camelot has forgotten him Gwen. Like, to them, he never even existed. And maybe..."

His voice died. And he let it. What was he supposed to say? That somewhere in him, he just couldn't let go of the childish hope that someone would finally listen to him, and act where he couldn't? That someone would set Merlin free? He knew it was foolish. Everyone was too scared of Uther. And most people were too caught up in their own problems to worry about the actions of a petulant prince.

But he just couldn't let go of that stupid hope. Because to do so would feel like giving in. Like saying goodbye. And Arthur just wasn't ready to say goodbye to the first true friend he had ever had. Somewhere in him, he knew he would never be ready for that.

And, by the gentle, understanding look in Guinevere's eyes, she knew it too.

He stepped back, watching as she finished putting away the shirts and moved over to fetch the breeches.

"Leave them Gwen. I'll sort them out later."

She smiled, and he could almost see the laugh at the corner of her lips. She moved back towards him. Stroked her hand down the side of his face, pure understanding radiating from her every feature. Her voice was soft, and even slightly teasing. "Part of me still can't believe it whenever I hear you say something like that."

"And part of you wishes I'd say it all the time?"

The laugh was out loud this time. Pure, and clear, and enough to make his heart skip a beat. "It's certainly not something you'll find me complaining about."

"Indeed."

And then they were in each-others' arms again. Knowing that they may not be able to talk again for days, or even weeks, to come. But then, a few seconds later, they had to pull apart.

He coughed, trying to cover up the embarrassment he felt. Why was she always able to make him feel so... vulnerable?

"You better go. Or else the guards will be in here, wondering what's keeping you." It had happened before. Luckily, the two of them had been at opposite sides of the room at the time.

He waited until she was gone before moving over to the bed to collect the pile of breeches. It was something he had taken to doing during his long periods of imprisonment. Together with cleaning his own armour, making his own bed, and even occasionally picking up after himself. It probably wouldn't continue forever though. Just something to pass the time. It wasn't like he actually sort of enjoyed it or anything...

...Well, maybe just a little bit.

Gwen nodded to the guards in passing, hoping beyond all hope that they would be unable to notice just how quickly her heart was beating. Her brief moments with Arthur were even more far apart now than they had been before, meaning that they seemed to have a greater effect on her now. Because every moment they were apart just made her long for him more.

It didn't help her that every time she saw him now Arthur seemed to be just that little bit thinner than the last time. It was gradual. It probably wasn't even noticeable to other people. She herself only knew because she had engraved every aspect of his figure in to her memory. It worried her. Just as the slight, persistent, shadows under his eyes worried her. The same shadows she knew to be on Gaius' face.

Gaius.

Now there was another worry in her life. Even though the old physician had been cautious. The King had let him off before- there had been no proof that Gaius had known about his ward's talents after all (and Gwen doubted Uther really wanted to find any). But Gaius was smart. He knew that he had to tread carefully, and so had almost completely refrained from mentioning Merlin. He didn't even go in the young Warlock's old room any more.

But he did miss him.

He hid it well, but Gwen had noticed the ever-present sadness in his eyes. And the way his hands would linger over anything Merlin had often used- some tattered books, the worn-down herb bag, and even cutlery. He was, in a way, comparable to a father who had lost his dearest son.

A son whom Gwen couldn't help but fear may die any day now.

She had been largely working in the laundry room for almost seven months now, but had also been helping out in the Kitchens at the same time. Mary was a good cook, and good company. And the atmosphere in the kitchens was just what Gwen had needed for the past half a year- first with Morgana's disappearance, and then with this whole issue about Merlin. It was busy in there. Hectic.

So hectic that, at first, she hadn't noticed when, just once a day, a Knight would come and ask for a small plate of food- barely enough for a five year old child. She had once tried to add some to the plate, but had been fast reprimanded. The King himself had ordered that the portion size be no larger than that. This puzzled Gwen at first. Surely Uther would allow his Knights to eat as much as needed?

But then she'd asked Mary how long ago the portions had begun to be ordered. And had, armed with determination through her new knowledge, taken it upon herself to follow the Knight one day. Her suspicions had been confirmed when the plate had been carried down the path to the dungeons, even though the prisoners were sent food later in the day. Gwen hadn't been able to follow him far once they neared the cells, but there was no doubt in her mind that the food was for Merlin.

She hadn't told Arthur. Or Gaius. Not anyone.

Because it meant that, even if he was alive, her friend would be practically nothing more than skin and bones.

Eep! *Hides in an attempt to avoid any angry mobs*

Yeah, so... I finally gave you some info on Merlin... Please don't kill me!

(ps. For readers of 'Homeward Bound,' peskychesk and I are currently working on it, but we're in different counties right now so it's slightly more difficult. We're hoping to talk on skype at some point tomorrow, once I can find somewhere quiet [far too many people in my house])