Chapter Thirteen

Hi, everyone!

Sorry I'm later than usual. Rel life hasn't been great lately.

I made a mistake with a line break in the last chapter...I think I've fixed it now, though.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

The sky was clear blue, the early-morning sun warm, but a brisk breeze was blowing. As Merlin fastened another bag of supplies to a horse's saddle, he noted that Everard, who was holding said horse's reins, was eyeing the proudly waving, red Camelot flags on the castle with an expression of mild distaste. Leon, walking up leading his own mount, noticed as well.

"Something wrong, Everard?" the blond knight asked.

The boy shook himself and answered quickly, "Not at all. I was just thinking of how impractical the color red is. Not on flags, of course; but for instance, your cloak. How do you stay hidden in that?"

From the other side of Leon, Elyan replied, "We usually don't. If we have to sneak around we just wear our chain mail."

"But still," Everard said, "red is very unreasonable for an article of clothing. Unless it's a dress."

Merlin and Elyan exchanged amused glances as Leon, as usual slightly flustered at the mention of the word 'dress', responded rather heatedly, "It's traditional for knights of Camelot to wear these cloaks. We consider it a badge of honor to wear the Pendragon crest!"

Everard shrugged. "Suit yourself. Red makes a nice parade color, I admit. But Bernician knights wear green."

"How sensible of them." Elyan grinned.

"What's sensible of who?" Elwin jogged down the castle's front steps to join his brother. Everard whispered something to his twin, who grinned and murmured something back which started them both laughing.

A few minutes later the two knights, the twins, and Merlin were joined by Arthur, Percival, Gwaine, and Guinevere. The queen was in the middle of a warning to her husband.

"…and try not to be eaten by a giant rat, Arthur. And if you get captured by yet another group of bandits…"

"Gwen…"

"…you're always reckless, though you'll never admit it…"

"Guinevere." Arthur interrupted her again. "I'm not riding into battle! And I don't plan to go through the Perilous Lands this time, either."

"Whole lot of fun that was." Gwaine muttered to Merlin as he cinched up his horse's saddle.

Merlin burst out laughing. Most of the knights exchanged amused glances while Arthur looked over from where he was still trying to reassure Gwen and gave Merlin an exasperated look. Elwin demanded, "What's so funny?"

Gwaine and Merlin just grinned at each other.

Gaius appeared just then, handing Merlin a small bag of medicinal supplies. "Keep yourself out of trouble." He gave Merlin a quick hug and glanced around at the others. "I'm saying that to all of you."

"Don't we always stay out of trouble, Gaius?" Gwaine joked.

He got quite a few laughs in response to that. Even Gaius and Gwen smiled slightly.

Privately, Merlin felt pleased that Gwaine was at least recovering some of his good humor. It didn't seem to be an act this morning.

But would you recognize the act if you saw it?

Merlin pushed that thought away.

A few minutes later, they were ready to depart. With Arthur in the lead, they had begun to ride out of the castle courtyard when Gwen called after them, "Merlin! Elyan! Keep an eye on my husband, will you?" Craning his head around, Merlin could see that she was smiling. He grinned back.

"Don't worry, we will!" Elyan answered cheerfully for both of them.

Arthur sighed comically. "My own wife doesn't trust me to stay out of trouble!"

"No offense, Sire, but she does have a point." Leon said with usual candor, prompting another laugh from the others as they rode through the town and out of Camelot.

The weather remained clear throughout the day, and the mood of the travelers remained optimistic. It was easy to be so while riding through the late spring woods in the bright sunshine, with the prospect of a journey ahead that didn't necessarily have to end in a confrontation with a rival army or some dangerous magical creature.

Well, hopefully not. Merlin couldn't help but think about Hayden's wyverns. And wonder if Gwaine's Uncle Harlan would take offense at the fact that a Pendragon had rescued his sons.

If the King of Bernicia is half as bigoted against Arthur as his niece is…

Merlin truly hoped that that was not the case.

That night and the next day passed uneventfully. The weather remained fair, the company pleasant.

As they traveled, Merlin noted with some amusement the knights' acceptance of the twins. Even before they'd left Camelot, the knights had all clearly grown attached to the boys. Elwin, who could make anyone laugh, had already become something of a impish, yet fondly regarded "little brother" to Percival and Elyan, while Sir Leon and Everard got along oddly well despite their varying opinions. Those two spent quite a lot of time riding next to each other, immersed in cordial yet fervent discussions. They typically kept their voices rather low (unlike Elwin and the other knights, who seemed to delight in guffawing loudly every other sentence). But a couple times, Merlin deliberately steered his mount close enough so he could hear their conversation.

"So you don't have a Knights' Code in Bernicia?" Leon asked at one point on the second day of travel.

"Not like you do. Nobles are the ones who become knights, but it's not quite such a…a high position in Bernicia as it is in Camelot. Knights are considered elite soldiers, but not much else."

"That view doesn't seem to lend itself to morality and honor." Leon commented mildly. "The Knights of Camelot are considered the foundation of a most loyal and honorable army."

"Of that I have no doubt. I'm just afraid that we're rather short of…well, collective honor in Bernicia."

Merlin then dropped back to join Gwaine at the rear of the party. "Gwaine, were you considered a knight in Bernicia? Because of your status?"

Gwaine looked vaguely startled at this. "Oh, I see. Been listening to my young cousin argue with Leon about etiquette, have you?" He grinned and continued in a casual tone, "Not really. There isn't really a strict way to becoming a knight in Bernicia, but I would've probably ended up one when I got to the age of twenty or so. The twins probably will, too. If you're a noble, it just means that you can go to war if it is necessary. Foot soldiers are recruited differently…My father," Gwaine paused for a moment, "My father was a knight. I didn't lie about that bit."

Merlin shrugged. You just lied about where he was from and which king he served…

"He said that he saw becoming a knight as a sort of sign that he was considered an adult." Gwaine smiled ruefully at Merlin. "But being knighted isn't in itself a major turning point or anything. It's not really like Camelot's grand traditions."

Merlin nodded to show that he understood, then inquired casually, "So Bernician knights wear green? Everard mentioned it; after calling red cloaks impractical."

Gwaine, unexpectedly, burst out laughing. The others turned around to stare at him. But he focused on Everard. "Impractical, are they?" Gwaine guffawed. "You know, Everard, I've been thinking the same thing since I became a knight!"

"Sir Gwaine, this isn't about the cloaks, is it?" Arthur demanded from the front of the group. "I really wish you'd stop complaining about them all the time. It's not like I make you wear one every day!"

This time, to Merlin's surprise, it was Everard who started to laugh first.

The wavering column of smoke from the campfire drifted up into the star-strewn sky. Gwaine found that his gaze was held by the ever-shifting flames and glowing, fluttering cinders. But he listened to the chatter and laughter of the others. The knights, who were taking turns telling tales of their exploits, all appeared rather excited at the prospect of a little adventure. We do enjoy getting out of Camelot every once in awhile, don't we? Especially the king. And Everard and Elwin seemed happy to be going home finally. Poor kids; they're probably homesick…

Which he understood only too well.

Damn it, Gwaine, don't go there…

But he couldn't help it.

He was homesick, too.

It seemed like every time he closed his eyes lately, all he could see was images of home. A windswept moor. The royal castle of Bernicia on a lofty mount above the town. A blossoming apple orchard. A valley full of clouds, while the heights surrounding it gleamed in the sunlight. Hayden petting his wyverns and insisting that they were just as agreeable as any cuddly pet. Aldwyn practicing with a crossbow and laughing at Gwaine's ineptitude with the weapon. Uncle Harlan pounding his fist on a banquet table, roaring with laughter. Great-Aunt Gytha telling a story. Cleva urging her horse to leap across the stream. Elen, carefree, young, and laughing, the northern breeze blowing her wild golden hair about. His mother's brilliant sky blue eyes, changeful as the weather. His father's smiling and shaking his head in amusement…

Gwaine stood abruptly, prompting an outburst of questions from the others. Waving them off, he muttered the hasty excuse, "Call of nature," before hurrying off into the woods.

He stopped a short distance from the camp, hidden in the dark trees. Leaning against the rough bark of one trunk, he looked up at the gently waving tree branches, black against the starry sky above. He remained for a few long minutes while he struggled to get his breathing under control.

When he returned to the others, Elyan was telling some story about Guinevere chasing him around the Lower Town when they were children. "She claimed that I stole her shawl. Why would I ever do that?"

"Well, did you?" asked Percival with a grin.

"Um, no…but I did know who did." Elyan admitted sheepishly. "Anyway, Gwen eventually chased me straight into a fence, which I climbed over…It was a pigsty. You can imagine the result."

"Our little sister threw an entire meat pie at Everard once. It hit him on the head." Elwin grinned and elbowed his brother, who turned slightly pink. "Remember that, Ev?"

"She was four!" Everard protested. "She didn't know any better!"

"So you have a younger sister?" Merlin asked, putting a slight emphasis on the word "younger". His gaze met Gwaine's. Gwaine realized, with a jolt, that Merlin had picked up on the significance of this information before he had. They don't have a little sister; I told Merlin that Haralda is only a year younger than me…

"Yeah, Hertha. She's nine years old at the moment." Now Gwaine found himself staring into Elwin's faintly concerned eyes.

Shit, I've got another cousin that I didn't know about. As if the twins' age shift wasn't enough to remind him that he had been gone from home far too long.

For the next few minutes, all Gwaine could think about was what he would give to be at a tavern. Ale or mead, in large enough doses, was always enough to dull the gut-twisting guilt and shame. For a short time, at least.

In his present mood, Gwaine felt that he would take what he could get.

Which, in the present situation, was nothing.

Arthur spoke then. "How many siblings do you have? You haven't exactly been open about your family so far."

Everard immediately sat up stiffly, clearly suspicious. But Elwin had relaxed again and replied easily, "Three. Aldwyn's the oldest, then there's Haralda, then Hertha. Aldwyn and Haralda are really much older than us; Aldwyn's married …"

Dear God! Aldwyn had actually gotten married? Gwaine would've expected him to wait at least another five years at least.

"…to Braeden; she's nice. They don't have any children yet though Father keeps telling them that they ought to…"

Oh, damn. Gwaine was pretty sure he knew who this "Braeden" was. If he was right, it was going to be pretty hard to explain if Elwin let slip her title.

"…Haralda claims that she doesn't want to get married, but Aldwyn says…"

Suddenly, Everard stretched (rather too quickly to be natural) and somehow managed to clout his brother on the side of the head with one arm. "Hey!" yelped Elwin, more from indignation than anything else, and moments later the twins were engaged in an impromptu wrestling match.

The knights cheered them on, but it was tired applause. After a couple more minutes of halfhearted jokes, the weary travelers prepared for bed.

Gwaine volunteered for first watch. Before long, the grunted goodnights and grumbled arguments over bedroll space died away, leaving Gwaine alone with the dying campfire and his own thoughts.

Aldwyn's married…

If I'm right, he's married to that princess from Deira…

Uncle Harlan and Aunt Aldora had another child…wasn't four enough? Maybe they were counting the twins as one…Ha, that's a thought...

Why on earth hadn't the twins talked to him more about home before now? Of course, he'd made himself scarce around them at first, but for the last few days he hadn't been unfriendly. He'd wondered if they'd speak to him more on the journey. But they were still keeping their distance.

Well, if they know the truth about what you did, which they almost certainly do, why should they trust you?

They shouldn't.

No one should trust me…

The next couple hours passed with no disturbance save the occasional hoot of an owl. Gwaine's tumultuous thoughts were slowly dissipating as he grew increasingly sleepy. Staring into the glowing coals of the fire, he felt his eyelids slowly drooping…

"No! Stop! It hurts!"

A sharp yell came from his lips before he had even fully awoken. He doubled over on the log he sat on, breathing heavily. It took him a few seconds to realize that he hadn't been the one who had screamed those words. He'd merely responded to them.

Thankfully, most of the others were still asleep; except for Percival, who sat up, looking around. "Gwaine?" he asked in his low, rumbling voice. "Are you okay?"

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Gwaine replied as steadily as he could, "Yeah, Percy, I'm fine. Just heard a bird or something."

Percival stood up and stretched. "I'll take this watch, if you'd like."

"Yeah, thanks." Gwaine stood quickly and settled down on his bedroll a short distance from the fire.

He was still shifting around, trying to get comfortable, when a voice hissed from behind him. "Gwaine."

Rolling over, Gwaine came face-to-face with Merlin. His blue eyes were wide with concern. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Gwaine frowned, considering. His stomach felt like it was tied in a couple dozen knots, his head hurt with a sort of dull pounding sensation, and he had a horrible sinking feeling. Like something was very wrong.

And suddenly he knew.

"Elen." he whispered. "Something's happened to Elen."

"Of course, when we actually find a road we end up going the wrong way along it!"

"We are going the right way! We were just on the wrong road before!"

This is getting ridiculous, Cleva thought disgustedly. It's not halfway into the morning and already they're arguing.

"Why don't you just go back to Bernicia, Ryle? Or wherever it is that you slink off to when you're not imposing your company on other people?"

"Imposing, Your Flirtiness? I came along to help you!"

"And a fine lot of help you are!"

Cleva contemplated hazily whether or not she would be in a vast lot of trouble if she murdered the Crown Prince of Bernicia because he was being annoying. But mostly she was occupied with directions. Or lack of them.

Elen had sent word that they should meet her where the borders of Camelot, Escetir, and Mercia met. All right, so they had to go to the town nearest that location. Fine. Simple, if Aldwyn and Ryle would just agree on how to read a map. What wasn't so simple was that Elen had not contacted them since, though she'd promised to. It wasn't like her at all.

Which gave Cleva a reason to worry.

Since moving to Bernicia, Cleva had become a trusted member of the court, and quite close to the royal family. But over the last few years, she'd kept particular watch on Elen. She found the haughty sorceress and her powers intriguing.

But mostly she tried to stay close to Elen because she was Gwaine's sister. A last link, so to speak.

Cleva glanced over her shoulder, realizing that Ryle and Aldwyn had fallen behind due to their bickering; yet again.

"Idiots." Cleva muttered, spurring her mount forward. So what if they fell behind. They'd catch up.

But she hurriedly pulled her horse to a halt a few minutes later. Smoke was rising through the trees directly ahead; just the right amount of smoke for a campfire.

Whirling around, Cleva galloped her mount back along the road a short distance to where Ryle and Aldwyn were still arguing. They looked up, concerned, as she came hurrying up. "Campfire. Just ahead." she hissed.

Instantly, both men were on the defensive. They dismounted immediately, followed by Cleva. Aldwyn checked the sword hanging at his side, but grabbed his crossbow and a bag of bolts. Ryle wore a sword, too, but he didn't bother to draw it out. Typical.

Cleva drew her long dagger, wishing that she had a sword. But it would be to heavy for her to use effectively.

A few minutes later, they were creeping through the trees, approaching the campsite. Peering through the foliage, Cleva could make out the figures of horses and men clad in chain mail. There are more of them than there are of us. Cleva tightened her grip on her dagger.

"Knights of Camelot." Ryle whispered suddenly, gesturing toward the nearest figure; a dark-skinned man in a long red cloak.

It took Cleva a second to put it together. Camelot.

Pendragons.

Barclayns don't like Pendragons. Or their subjects.

Especially not their knights.

Growling, Aldwyn suddenly leapt toward the camp. Cleva and Ryle followed him. While still hidden behind some trees, Aldwyn yelled, "All of you drop your weapons! I've got a loaded crossbow and I'm not afraid to put it to use!"

From her hiding spot behind a bush, Cleva glimpsed a dark-haired man shoving someone behind a fallen log as the rest grabbed their weapons and looked around wildly for the person who had shouted. "Who's there?" demanded a man with short blond hair.

"That is none of your concern at the moment! Drop your weapons!" Intimidation. That was the only advantage Aldwyn and his companions had right now. Well, not the only advantage. But personally, Cleva didn't trust Ryle to take a real stand unless the circumstances were unimaginably dire.

"I will do no such thing!" bellowed the blond man. But he clearly didn't want to take any chances in case Aldwyn actually did have a crossbow trained on him…which was, of course, the case.

"Who is saying so?" Aldwyn roared back. "Now you listen here, you rotten…"

He might have started a swearing match right then and there, but suddenly the person who'd been thrown down behind the log popped up into view.

Cleva gasped in recognition and Aldwyn nearly dropped his crossbow; just as a disordered, leaf-covered Elwin shouted, "Aldwyn?"

Not quite as long as the last one, I'm afraid. But I hope you enjoyed it!

So, Braeden (meaning "broad hill") is widely considered a boy name. But it can be a girl name, too, as it is here. But Princess Braeden isn't really a major character or anything and you probably don't really care anyway, so I'll stop talking now.

I'll try to update soon.