'Three updates in a week!?' I hear you all gasp.

Yes I'm back again, hello!

Slightly stunned myself that I've written this much in a week – for me it's a lot, I am inherently lazy.

Oh and to mersan123 – hope this answers some of your questions!

Enjoy!

Regrettably I do not own Merlin. All rights belong to the BBC.

Chapter 10

The water bucket was heavy, the tips of her fingers staining white from the strain as she carried it across the empty courtyard.

She sighed heavily and put it down, her other hand coming up to massage the red line imprinted into the opposite palm.

Merlin usually helped her carry in the water, taking it from her despite her protests and smiling cheekily, eyes bright.

Gwen hoped that her friend was safe, wherever he was. Neither she nor any of the knights had been able to get much out of Arthur regarding the manservant's whereabouts. All that the king had said was that Merlin was no longer a friend to Camelot or her people, and should he be seen then he was not to be trusted.

They were all equally as perplexed, Merlin was the most trustworthy person that they knew. All that they knew for sure was that Arthur had been unusually quiet since his return, and tensed visibly each time his servant's name was mentioned.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hooves on the damp cobblestones. Gwen turned to see who would be entering the city so late to see Elyan arriving, jumping from his horse and swiftly making his way towards the steps.

"Elyan!" she called out, waving to her brother with a smile.

The knight stopped, looking towards the voice, his own small smile blooming across his face at the sight of his sister.

"Gwen" he greeted, moving over to embrace her warmly, his larger frame dwarfing her petite form.

"You are back so soon" she commented, frowning slightly as she took in his wearied appearance, "Is something wrong?"

Elyan sighed heavily, a spark of fondness rushing through him at his sister's concern.

"I must speak with Arthur immediately" he said, "There are troublesome reports from the kingdom".

Gwen stooped to take hold of the bucket again before moving with her brother up the stairs to the doorway.

"Is it about the raids on the villages?" she asked, her heart twisting in sympathy at the thought of more innocent people being forced out of their homes.

The knight nodded sombrely,

"Yes. Two more at least have been destroyed to the North."

Gwen gasped quietly. Her brother stopped by the doors to take her shoulders firmly and turn her towards him.

"The people are afraid, Gwen" he began, "They are afraid of losing everything. These attacks are not slowing down, anyone could be at risk."

The maid looked at her brother carefully, eyes locked on his face,

"That isn't everything, is it?" she questioned, there was something he had not said.

Elyan looked at her, eyes anxious.

"People are beginning to talk" he explained, "There are rumours, Gwen."

"Rumours of what?" she asked back.

"Magic."

Gwaine was pensive as he walked slowly back towards his chambers from where he had just bumped in to a flustered Elyan, mind reeling with all that had happened in the last few days.

Camelot was under attack; it was burning, and yet from who or what no one was certain.

Magic, that was what Elyan had said.

Gwaine's first thoughts were of Morgana, the memory of her flashing eyes and callous words filling his senses. It is not unlikely that she would be behind this. Surely she is the only one who hates Arthur enough to prey on his people so cruelly.

And yet.

Something was nagging at the knight's conscience. Something he dared not believe, for the pain of it being true.

No one had seen Merlin since the day that he and Arthur had been taken. When the king had returned three days later without his servant Gwaine had been horrified. Horrified that his closest friend had been left somewhere, alone and probably injured, and horrified at his king's apparent lack of concern over this fact.

He had argued - of course he had. Merlin was his best friend, he wasn't about to let him be abandoned like that without putting up a decent fight for him first.

But Arthur was adamant. Merlin was branded a traitor; an enemy, and all of the knights were banned from searching for him, on pain of banishment themselves.

So Gwaine had bitten his tongue, though it killed him to do so.

He had always had his suspicions about Merlin. Somehow, he seemed sometimes to be a little too lucky, or a little too confident in life-threatening situations; especially for someone of his size and total lack of coordination with a sword. The manservant's friends- himself included- also seemed to be blessed with lucky coincidence and fortune more often than not, particularly when said manservant was at their side at the time.

No, Gwaine had long suspected that these circumstances in fact had very little to do with luck, and all to do with a lanky best friend of his that tended to follow Arthur and his knights wherever they went.

Of course, he had never said anything, for fear of exposing Merlin. He did not fear him, for Gwaine knew that the sorcerer could not do evil even if he wanted to. He was Merlin for goodness' sake, he's as good as they come.

Though under the right circumstances, or rather the wrong ones, even the best person can become bitter; become warped. Of this Morgana was living proof.

The knight suspected he knew why Arthur rejected Merlin that day; why he branded him an enemy and left him for dead. He also knows how much Arthur meant to Merlin; how much Merlin adored his king.

Gwaine paused as he came to the door of his chambers, blinking slowly and panting out a short sigh as he unhooked the latch and walked in, kicking his boots to the floor and flopping down messily on the bed.

It would have killed Merlin, he knows, to have been rejected so fully by his king; his best friend. The servant trusted Arthur completely, and to have lost his faith will have shattered him.

Something in the knight's chest clenched at the thought of his friend's despair, a mixture of pain.

And fear.

Bitterness and resentment can change a person.

The knight's mind flashed back to the day before- back at Ealdor- as he had stood observing the last of the flames as they licked out the hollows of the ashy ruins that had once been a prospering village.

He and the other knights had been walking through the wreckage, trying to douse the last of the fires and search for any survivors. The smoke had been thick and acrid, burning his eyes as they flickered across the scene of devastation.

Something had caught his eye; something red, over by the treeline.

Blinking away the stinging tears the knight had tried to focus, vision blurred and swimming slightly.

Sure enough there was something there, or rather someone. Backing away slowly, hand lowering from where it had been raised, outstretched towards the dying fires, a figure had retreated into the shadows, golden irises fading as they moved.

A figure with a red scarf, and raven black hair.

So just another little snippet there really – sorry no more Morgana or Merlin yet, though you will find out what they have been up to in the next chapter I promise!

Thanks for reading!