Not for the first time in his life, Gilbert is seriously beginning to question what he's doing. Looking at it objectively, this is clearly madness.

Here he is, an ex-military Commander on the run with the Capital of Talmeré's Master Book Keeper and his exiled, now no doubt fugitive, twin brother with a twice damned wolf that seems to have it in for him. And what does this merry band of misfits plan to do? Take down a secret group that has manipulated its way into power and supposedly has plans to create a new God. And their only allies in all this is a tortured half demoness who refuses the crown she won, and a lost Prince turned returned miracle King.

Yeah, it sounds ridiculous to him too.

Sitting on a hard rock ledge serving as a makeshift bench in this tiny tent, he heaves a heavy sigh. At his feet, Matthew is still sleeping soundly, wrapped in layers of warm furs and woven blankets given to him by the kind family who's tent they're currently occupying. Across from Matt, a young boy is failing to hide is staring. If this was any other time, Gil might have made an effort to smile and reassure the child and his worried mother. But right now, he's too busy with his own concerns to do the old 'red eyes are awesome' song and dance.

Where does he even begin?

For starters there's Matt… He'll admit he's pissed at him, using so much magic at once for such a dangerous spell was reckless in the extreme, and here he thought Al was the one he needed to keep under control… But, passed his anger, he's worried, maybe for more reasons than even he is willing to let himself admit. At least he can't see any signs of lasting damage, so he should make a full recovery with enough rest.

But then, there's Al, and that damned hero complex of his. Going off on his own, even if he is with the stupid wolf. They both know he's the more experienced and skilled fighter of the two… Ahh, but then it all loops back around to Matt, altering that sword so only Al could use it… Damn pair of kids, since when was he some sort of baby sitter for these two and their recklessness?

And if all that wasn't bad enough, he also has to deal with the not at all concealed hostility wolfy keeps giving him. Seriously, what did he do to piss it off so badly? So he temporarily blinded it —him, whatever—he bit him, nearly took his arm off too, so in Gil's book they should be even.

He sighs again, running a hand through his hair and immediately scrunches up his face in disgust at the feeling, remembering again how much he needs a bath, they all do. Not that there'll be much chance of that until they reach the Wilderness —what with water being such a scarce resource out here— and even then, that's not something that is advised, Gods know what they'll have to deal with out there.

Just as he begins to feel the endless weariness of their mission, a caw from the corner of the room draws his attention, and he feels himself smile instantly in response.

"Come here then."

Gilbird, his trusty companion on all his secret missions for the rebellion these past two years, flaps his wings as he half walks half hops across the ground to Gil's feet. Reaching down, Gilbert grins as he strokes the eagles head and chin, receiving a happy chirp for the attention.

He remembers when he first found the bird. He was leading his men back from a patrol when they spotted an unusual clearing. Whole trees had been flattened and uprooted, telltale signs of an Uphairx pack mating ground. While surveying the damage to get a read on how many Uphairx might be in the vicinity, he found him. A tiny, near bald, half dead chick, still inside part of it's egg, in the tattered remains of it's nest. The tree it had been hatched in, crushed under the weight of the Uphairx males sparring. Like this, there was no chance the parents would return to a destroyed nest, the chick was doomed to a slow death. He remembers how his men had laughed when he, with more care than they had ever seen him demonstrate before, carefully scooped the poor chick up, picking off pieces of eggshell and twigs, before delicately wrapping it in some loose cloth and tucking the dying thing in under the top of his chest plate. They wondered if their Commander was going soft, after all, why try to save something that is clearly meant to die? But what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just walk away and leave it, contrary to the image he carefully maintains in front of his men, or court, or anyone, he's not heartless.

He knew it's chances of survival were slim at best, but that didn't stop him from rushing his men back, or dismissing them early so he could hurry back to his chambers and set it up in a nice, warm bed of scrap cloth and furs. Or from cornering the carrier pigeon keeper in the lower town to demand his help —because he couldn't trust the palace bird keeper to stay quiet— or from shirking as much of his duties as possible for the next two weeks to mother the chick around the clock until it was strong enough that he was sure it wasn't going to die. After that, he took to secretly carrying the chick around with him when ever he had to leave his home, no matter if it was for work or simply to get out for a bit, the chick was always with him. Then, after around three weeks, when the chick was finally able to start walking around by itself, and the white down was beginning to be replaced with the darker colour of it's developing plumage, he finally allowed himself to name it. The bird keeper had told him it's sex, so there was really only one thing to name it.

Gilbird.

He gives a lopsided grin at the memory. Everyone doubted him, doubted the chicks chances of survival, but look at him now. Most would use words like majestic or powerful to describe such a creature, but him? Gilbert only has one word in mind to describe his beloved partner in crime.

Awesome.

Suddenly, without any sort of warning, the wind outside that is constantly spiralling around them to maintain the protection of the sandstorm, breaks. Wild winds blast through the tent flaps, covering the inside in a layer of sand, and then, it all goes quiet and still.

Instantly this sets of alarm bells in Gilbert's head. He's seen wolfy stop a blizzard before, and it was much calmer than that, a gentle end. But this was fast and clearly uncontrolled.

Without waiting a second more, he jumps to his feet, ordering the family to stay inside and to please keep an eye on Matt, then he's dashing out the tent.

As he jogs past another, looking south for any incoming danger, a caw is given as wings pass over his head and up into the air. Above him Gilbird soars high, scanning the area just like his partner on the ground.

It only takes Gil a few moments to reach the end of the camp. There, he halts and takes a breath to calm himself, focusing his magic into his eyes and uses the old spell he's best at. Eyes aglow, he sends his sight forward, rushing across the open dunes, it doesn't take him long to spot the large paw prints leading off, far away from the camp. He frowns, manoeuvring his sight to follow the trail, but it extends off past the limit of what he can see, still, he follows it as much as he can, the image growing fuzzy and unfocused the further he pushes himself, until he's forced to stop. His eyes still glow as he ends the spell, and he is left momentarily blind as he waits for his sight to snap back to himself. When his sight does return, it's just as grainy and out of focus as he had pushed it to be, leaving him standing still as he frowns out at the desert, waiting for his eyes to recover.

They do, slowly but surely, clarity returns, but not quite as it was.

It's the down side to such a spell, he knows. With each time he pushes his sight beyond his body, it takes just that little bit longer to snap back, for his vision to return. And each time it does, it's a little bit less focused, a little bit more blurred, and he knows with a sinking certainty, just as he had been told all those years ago when he first accidentally activated his inherited gift, he's slowly going blind. He had been warned then, of the dangers of over using his gift.

"The eyes of a Seer are a powerful thing Gilbert, but you must be careful, for they are also delicate and are easily damaged. Do not make the same mistake as your mother."

He frowns, acutely aware of the extra blur to his peripheral vision. Up until then, he had never been given a straight answer as to how and why his mother was blind. Now, it's all too clear to him… especially after…

"…Your rage will blind you…"

He shakes his head to clear it and redirects his gaze to the night sky.

Above him Gilbird caws as he too has spotted the paw prints and is circling, signalling to Gil that he's found the way to go. Nodding to the bird he springs into a light jog, following Gilbird's direction and what he had seen until he finds the prints. Thankfully he doesn't have to check if they're fresh so he can focus on keeping pace as he follows the trail. With all the twists and turns the trail makes, he's once again glad for Gilbird's aid as he helps keep the albino on the right track.

It takes some time —in which Gil wishes he'd thought to grab a horse and not just run out, but no point complaining now— but eventually he spots the sight of a mass of white fur on the horizon. Slowing his pace, he frowns at the sight, tempted to use his advanced gaze again, but knows better than to risk it, and places his hand over the hilt of his sword. He halts a short distance away, making sure to be down wind of the shape ahead as he squints at the white mass. Above him Gilbird silently circles over the shape twice before looping back and coming down to perch on Gilbert's shoulder guard. He sighs in relief, but keeps his hand on his sword, just in case as he walks over. Two circles and landing on his shoulder; the signal for friendly, no danger.

There, lying in the sand is the wolf, and under him is…

Eyes widening he picks up his pace as he sees it's Al, lying motionless under the wolf. He knows he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but he can't exactly say he trusts the wolf. Luckily, his fear is unfounded as he sees no sign of blood on either of them, but that only raises the question of why are they lying out here?

"Hey." He calls over, more to Al than the wolf, but, much to his dismay, it's the latter that jerks at the response.

The wolf's head snaps up from Al's body at the sound, swivelling around to stare at Gil, ears back and already growling. Gilbert would sigh at this, if it weren't for the fact he could have sworn, for a split second, he saw fear flash across those green eyes before it was hidden behind anger. So rather than snap back at the wolf for growling at him like he normally would, Gil's left there in slight confusion, even as Arthur rises up to his full height to tower over him, teeth bared.

In this moment of bewilderment, Gilbert takes in the situation in a slightly different light.

He had never really cared to look, not wanting to get into another unnecessary fight with the wolf to really think about it, but now that he's actually looking, he sees this for what it really is. The way the wolf shifts back isn't just about aggression, no… It's defensive, he's defensive…

Gil blinks. The way the wolf moves, the way it shifts, it's stance, he's seen it a hundred times over, so how in the world did he never notice before now…

Memories of years of patrols and hunts flash across his mind, in caves and burrows, large and small, every one at the end of his sword, like a composite of scenes layering on top of each other to scream a single message at him. It's the one thing he always warned the young knights about…

When Arthur growls lowly again, Gil sighs calmly, then smiles, probably the first true smile he's ever directed at the wolf. This, is something he knows how to deal with.

"Relax will you? I'm not going to do anything, I just want to know if the kid's okay."

He waits patiently, knowing that Arthur can understand him now, and when the wolf stops growling, he nods and gestures a hand to the sleeping blonde.

"Can I?"

Gilbert considers it a personal victory when Arthur, after a moment of deliberation, finally steps back and allows Gil to reach Al's side.

He nods again, then slowly walks over to crouch by the knight, quickly checking him over. He frowns slightly when he can't find anything wrong, but nor can he seem to rouse Alfred. Arthur hovers close by, and when he sees that Gil is also unable to wake the teen, he surprises the red eyed man once again by letting out a tiny whimper as he nuzzles Alfred's face.

If things weren't clear to Gil before, this display proves it, though what this'll mean for the future is unknown.

"Let's get him back."

Gilbird takes to the air once more as Gil carefully slips his arms under Al's knees and shoulders, lifting him up to carry back to camp.

When they return, Gil lays Al beside his brother, while Arthur practically has his head poking through the tent flap, green eyes fixed worriedly on the sleeping blonde.

If Gilbert thought he was a babysitter before, then this confirms it.

Still, as he looks over the the worried wolf, he finds his own eyes trailing back to the violet eyed blonde, not realising he's wearing the exact same look. In that moment, both his and the wolf's minds are connected with the same, pleading wish.

'Please, be alright.'

X

Authors notes: Look at that, a whole chapter just for Gilbert, he's waited long enough for one. Though, to be honest, the reason I've been avoiding it is 'cause Gil knows more than he's letting on. And he's hiding things from the group, like the fact that he's slowly going blind…

On the note of Gil needing more love, I've done more art again, so check out my tumblr for that if you feel so inclined.

And once again I feel the need to thank all my wonderful reviewers, you really have no idea what it means to me, even the smallest of reviews gives me that boost to make it through the rest of the day. So again, thank you.

R & R people.

Until next time, stay awesome!