The Wanderer

by BynWho

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfic for entertainment purposes only. All characters and plots from the BBC show Merlin belong to the BBC. All other characters and plots belong to BynWho. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: It's Marian's birthday and an argument with Gwaine threatens to derail the festivities.

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A Very Happy Birthday Indeed

Marian woke up late but excited for the day. It was her birthday and not just any birthday, but her thirtieth birthday. She didn't know if milestone birthdays were a big deal in Camelot, but she was determined to make the most of this one. She had the day off from her duties with Gaius and only had training with Arthur in the morning, which usually lasted an hour at the most. Then she could spend the rest of the day walking the market, working in her garden, or doing anything she wanted.

She hurriedly dressed in her tunic and trousers, and after stopping by the physician's chambers for a quick hello and a small bit of breakfast, she made her way down to the training field. When she got there, the knights were already practicing with their assorted weapons and having fun teasing each other. She looked around but didn't see the prince anywhere.

"Arthur has other matters that need his attention today, so he's asked me to train you," Gwaine said. He walked up to her, dressed in his chainmail and with the biggest smile she had ever seen plastered on his face.

"Okay…"

"He's asked me to take over your training if that's alright with you?"

She sighed. Though they were good friends and she thoroughly enjoyed his company, she wasn't so sure she could concentrate when he was there. The more she saw of him, the more she wanted him. Gwaine wielding a sword could very well be her undoing.

"Sure, if you think you're up to it."

"Most definitely up to it, beautiful. When I'm done with you, you'll be as adept as a Knight of Camelot," he said as he walked closer to her. "First lesson—the sword."

He held up his blade and handed one to her, while the other knights stopped what they were doing and moved to the sidelines to watch.

They sparred for less than a minute before she lost her sword. He picked it up and brought it over to her. "Again, but this time, keep ahold of your weapon," he chuckled at her as she glared.

She knew he was going easy on her, but she had a hard time keeping up. He thrust his sword at her—not even breaking a sweat—and she blocked, holding the hilt with both hands, trying to push him back.

"It's not just about strength, but also guessing the next move," he said as he swung. "You must anticipate where the next blow will come from."

His blade hooked hers, and he swung her sword around, pulling the hilt from her hand. It launched into the air, and he easily caught it. "In contrast, you must control your expressions, where you're looking. You must hide your intentions, Marian." He held the hilt of her sword out and handed it back to her. "Again."

"It's a wonder anyone can win at all," she said, swinging her sword and lunging toward him.

"Fights between skilled warriors are only won when someone makes a mistake and slips up," he said as she came toward him. He quickly pushed her behind him, swinging back and smacking her backside with the flat of his blade.

Marian turned and glared at him from the unfairness of it.

"You must make sure that it isn't you, Marian. It won't be fair. There are no rules."

Gwaine slid his blade down hers, pushing her sword to the side. Using his left hand, he prodded her belly with his finger as if it were another blade. "This isn't to first blood, beautiful. It's to the death. Had I another sword or dagger, you'd easily be dead."

"How the fuck am I supposed to learn all of this if you don't let me have a chance?" she asked, out of breath.

"Practice, love. Practice and study," he said, walking over to one of the benches and picking up an old, worn book. He handed it to her and grinned.

She angrily thrust her sword into the ground and wiped her sweaty brow on her sleeve. Taking the book, she read the title and frowned. "Considerable Swordplay?"

"You must read this in its entirety before next week. I want to see you try some of these moves when we next train."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "The entire book? What the hell, Gwaine? I have healer duties!"

"If you wish to continue your training, beautiful, you'll read this. It's this or nothing."

"Fine," she bit out. Marian was tired, but a nap would be out of the question now. So much for a relaxing birthday.

Gwaine returned their swords to the weapon rack and laid the book on a bench. When he walked back to her, he was carrying a crossbow and a quiver of bolts. "Now, for something fun!" he said, smiling brightly at her.

Gwaine showed Marian the basics of using a crossbow—loading the bolts, aiming, shooting, and even how to use the weapon to defend herself in close quarters should she ever run out of bolts. She hit the targets easily enough, taking to the crossbow quicker than she had the sword. Pleased at her progress, he took her into the forest beside the castle.

"Let's try it with a moving target," he said. "Rarely, if ever, will the enemy be kind enough to stand still while you aim."

"Gwaine, I'm not killing anything." When he looked at her sharply, she continued. "I'll shoot a target, I'll pretend we are in a battle, but I won't kill a living creature."

"Marian, love, you're going to have to get over this aversion to death if you want to pick up a weapon. Simply arming yourself makes you a target."

"I can aim to maim," she told him, jutting her chin out.

"Aim to maim?" He laughed heartily. "Tell me, sweetheart, what did you do before you came to Camelot, where your food is killed for you?"

"I…" she faltered. "I did just fine, thank you very much!"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, ignoring her protests. "Let's get something for the cook to prepare, shall we? A deer or maybe, if we're lucky, a boar. A nice plate of crispy bacon might be in our future!"

They tiptoed through the forest, Gwaine searching for a suitable target and Marian seething behind him. She wasn't comfortable killing anyone, even an animal destined for the table. Maybe it was absurd of her—after all, there were no supermarkets to buy prepped meat—but her heart hurt at the idea of ending another life.

He abruptly came to a stop, Marian colliding into him from behind, and signaled for her to remain silent. He crouched down, pulling her with him, and pointed to a small clearing in the forest. In the middle was a fat boar, happily rooting around the ground, munching on truffles. Its soft snorts permeated the quiet as it filled its belly with fungal treats.

He pointed to her crossbow and gestured to the boar, willing her to shoot it. It would not only be beneficial for her to practice, but the paunchy pig would also be delicious. He could almost taste the juicy roast its flank would provide.

Marian knitted her brows and bit her lip as she lifted the weapon. She aimed with both eyes open, focusing on the chest of the hairy beast. Her heart wasn't in it. Marian hoped she missed, even if it made Gwaine angry with her. She took a breath and held it for only a moment.

"You are aiming to kill it, beautiful. Remember, it's your enemy," he whispered in her ear.

Irritated, she blew out the breath she had been holding and pulled the trigger. The bolt shot from the crossbow with a surprising speed, embedding itself firmly in the boar's flank. It gave a long, piercing shriek and charged toward them.

Gwaine's eyes widened in terror as he realized what had happened. "I said to kill it!"

"You distracted me!"

As the boar was getting closer, she fumbled with the next bolt, her hands shaking. Once she got the crossbow loaded, she held the weapon up, aiming at the beast as it drew near.

"Shoot, Marian! Dammit, woman, shoot!"

She pulled the trigger, the bolt missing its mark.

He jumped from their hiding spot, drawing his sword in mid-air. When he landed, he plunged the blade down into the innocent beast as he shouted in anger.

The boar's eyes were wide, watching Marian as she looked on. The life dimmed from the beast as its chest rose and fell, moaning its last breath.

He walked back over to her, anger etched all over his face. "I said to kill it, Marian! Do you even realize what it could have done to us?"

She looked back up at him, her outrage pulling her from shock. She stood and confronted him. "And I said I wasn't going to kill anything! You wouldn't listen!"

"Marian, because of you, this beast," he gestured behind him with his sword, the boar's blood dripping to the ground, "suffered needlessly! You could have given it a quick death! Instead, it was frightened!"

He turned from her, breathing heavily, and threw his sword into the ground, the blade sticking up from the dirt. He took a couple of calming breaths, trying to get his anger and fear to dissipate.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his hands on his hips. "I was just—" Gwaine spun around to face her, only to find that she had already started back to the castle. "Scared."

He wiped the blood from his sword and sheathed it. Turning back to the boar, he picked it up and hauled it back to the castle.

Marian stormed back to the castle, not even looking to see if Gwaine was following. She didn't care if he was or not, to be honest. She was furious with him—and with herself.

He had been right—if she'd done as he'd said, the poor creature wouldn't have suffered as it did. It made her sick to her stomach to think of it.

She wiped angry tears from her face and walked up to her chamber. Opening the door, she threw the book he'd given her to the floor and went to the fireplace to light a fire.

What she needed at the moment was a hot bath. Once she'd set everything up and was in the hot water, she tensed and then relaxed her muscles, one group at a time. Trying to forget the eyes of the boar as it died, she distracted herself.

She thought back to happier times. Jokes with Merlin and pranks with Gwaine—no, she didn't want to think of him. Taking a deep breath, she settled in the water and tried again.

Afternoons spent with Gwen meandering through the market after they'd both finished their duties. Picking flowers with her in the garden and gossiping. Gwen coming to her for advice about her feelings for Arthur. That time Gwaine had overheard them—dammit, she wasn't going to think of him.

Often Marian and Gwen would watch Arthur and the knights train on the field. They both claimed it was because they wanted to see their friends practice, maybe learn a few tricks, but eventually, Marian and Gwen admitted to one another that they really just enjoyed watching them train without their shirts.

She grinned. Well, if her thoughts were going to turn to Gwaine—especially when she pictured him shirtless, sparring with another of the well-built knights—she might as well lean into it.

She caressed her breasts, gently pressing the tender mounds of flesh together. Her thumbs rubbed over her nipples, sending pleasing chills down to her core. Marian massaged down her torso to her belly, taking extra time where she was incredibly ticklish and sensitive. She moved down further, brushing her fingers through her soft curls.

As her fingers delved between her legs, Marian pictured Gwaine, sweaty and shirtless on the training field, his long hair blowing in the wind, and she bit her lip. She imagined his hands exploring her body and his legs gently pressing her knees apart.

She gasped in delight, thinking of his kiss the other week when he'd lied to Agravaine about her being his sweetheart. Dreaming of what would've happened had he come into her bedchamber, and they'd taken it further, she crossed her legs, squeezing her hand against the flesh of her sex. As her fingers slipped inside, her thumb traced gentle circles around her sensitive clitoris, fantasizing it was Gwaine's tongue in its place.

Pretending it was his cock inside of her rather than her own fingers, Marian rocked at a steady pace, the water cresting near the edge of the tub. Her other hand cupped her breast, and her fingers teased her nipple erect.

Biting her bottom lip, she moaned as she imagined Gwaine's face hovering over her as he thrust and the smirk he wore when he was winding her up. It was a far cry from the disappointed look on his face in the forest that day.

With her thoughts unexpectedly taking a quick and disappointing turn, all she could think about was how cross he'd been with her earlier. He lectured her on the field—as if she were a child—leaving her embarrassed about how little she knew in front of the others. And he'd berated her in the forest when she'd said she couldn't kill the boar. She'd deserved it, too. Her stubbornness had almost gotten them killed.

Her fingers slowed as tears fell from her eyes. She felt ashamed of her behavior. If only she could go back and do it all over. She'd do everything right and make Gwaine proud of her. That way, an innocent animal wouldn't have to suffer just so she could learn a lesson.

She removed her hand from between her legs and sat up in the water, frustrated and heartbroken. It was the worst birthday she'd had in her adult life.

Agitated, she stood and stepped out of the tub to dry off. Wrapped in her towel, she went to her chest of drawers and pulled out a fresh chemise and one of her clean dresses.

After getting dressed, a soft knock on the door made Marian's heart sink, desperately hoping it wasn't Gwaine. Regardless if it was shame or anger she felt toward him, she didn't know if she could face him ever again after what happened.

Marian opened the door only a little and breathed a sigh of relief when Merlin smiled at her from the corridor.

"I thought we'd have supper in the tavern tonight."

"Merlin, I'm exhausted. Gwaine ran me through the wringer during our training."

"I heard about the boar," he said, his eyes full of pity. "I'm so sorry, Marian."

News of her failure had already made its way back to Merlin. Inwardly, she cursed the knight. "Thanks," she said as she started to close the door.

Merlin quickly placed his hand on the door and pushed it open a little more. "All the more reason to go to the tavern, don't you think?" he said, smiling brightly.

Marian rolled her eyes. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

Merlin shook his head.

"Alright, fine. I'll go. Let me take care of the bathtub first."

"No, don't worry about it. I'll get someone else to do it."

Marian and Merlin reached the Rising Sun Tavern just as the sun set. Merlin was acting strange—fidgety and chatty, but without saying anything of importance. He held the tavern door open for Marian and motioned for her to go first, a wide grin on his face.

She stopped in surprise. The tavern was packed with her friends—those from the town, almost all the knights, and Gwen.

"Marian!" they called, holding up half-full mugs.

"Wow, the look on your face," Merlin laughed. "Bet you didn't think I knew, did you? Well, guess what, my friend, it may not look like it sometimes, but I actually do listen."

"I don't even know what to say."

"How about cheers?" Merlin said as he walked to the long table in the middle of the room and sat across from Elyan.

Marian walked around the room, enjoying conversations with her friends. Percival and Lancelot were watching a game of dice, looking for a way in. Leon was passing tankards of ale to Elyan and Gwen.

"Just try it, Gwen," Leon said.

"I don't know."

"You'll like it."

"After a few tankards," Lancelot said, sitting across from her.

Gwen looked around and brought the tankard to her lips for a small sip. "Oh. No, I don't think I like it. Not that it's awful. I just mean it's not for me."

"What?" Leon scoffed. "Better not waste it then." He leaned across the table and grabbed her tankard for himself.

Elyan looked over at Gwaine and followed his gaze to Marian. She was talking to the weaver and refused to look his way. "So that's why you've been in a mood, then?"

"I'm not in a mood."

Lancelot leaned over so the others wouldn't hear. "Tell her you're sorry, Gwaine."

"I have to get her to let me first. She won't even look at me."

"Maybe she doesn't see you. I'll call her over," Merlin said.

"No, leave her be. I… she doesn't want to see me."

"Don't leave this, Gwaine." Lancelot looked over at Gwen, who was watching Leon and Percival debate which ale was the best. "Trust me, if you leave it too long, you'll miss out."

"Elyan, call Marian over," Merlin said, grinning.

"No, don't—"

"Come sit over here, Marian," Elyan said, clearing a space between himself and Gwen.

As she sat down, Marian nodded to the knights, grinning. Her smile faltered when she noticed Gwaine was sitting opposite her.

"Happy birthday, Marian," he said softly as he motioned for the innkeeper. Soon, a mug of ale was placed on the table in front of her.

"Thank you," Marian said, her voice cold.

"Did you have a nice bath?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your hair. It's still wet."

"Oh. Yes."

"So, it's your birthday."

"It is."

"Which one?"

"Which one what?"

"Your age. Which birthday is it?"

"Gwaine, you can't ask that," Gwen said, pushing away another tankard that Leon passed her way.

"Why not?"

"Because—"

"It's rude," Marian replied, cutting Gwen off.

She knew she was acting like a child—she was still embarrassed and hurt—but she didn't want to see Gwaine, much less have to have a conversation with him.

"I see. You like the ale?" he asked, trying his best not to be hurt by her dismissive attitude.

"I do."

"Ever try dark forest ale? The Rising Sun makes the best in all of Camelot."

"No, I haven't. Look, is there a point to this?"

"Just trying to make conversation."

"Well don't."

Gwaine scowled as he stood, tankard in hand. "Alright then. Happy birthday, sweetheart," he said, his voice clipped, and he walked over to the other end of the table.

"What was all that about? You aren't still angry, are you?" Gwen asked as Gwaine sat next to Leon and glowered into his mug of ale.

"Gwaine humiliated me today."

"So you'd thought you'd get him back by making a fool of him at your birthday party? Marian, that's not like you."

"I didn't make—"

"Yes, you did. You know, Gwaine's the one that did all of this."

Marian looked at Gwen in shock.

"As soon as Merlin told him your birthday was coming up, he put this all together. Bribed the innkeeper, invited your friends from town, rearranged the knight's schedules. All for you. He was supposed to bring you down to the tavern himself, but begged Merlin to do it since he knew you were still angry with him."

"I didn't know."

Gwaine drained the rest of his ale. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and got up to go to the bar for another pint.

"He's hurt, Marian," Gwen said. "You just bit his head off for trying to talk to you."

"I know he is. And I hate it. And myself, if I'm honest."

"So, are you going to let him apologize? Are you going to apologize?"

Marian sighed, feeling ashamed. Gwaine upturned his tankard, finishing another pint. "I need a day or so. I just can't face him."

"You'll have to. Sooner than later."

"I can't."

"Marian, you're my friend and I love you. But get your head on straight," Gwen said. "Gwaine is your friend. He likes you. And he doesn't have many friends to count on."

"What about the other knights?"

"Okay, he doesn't have many friends who keep him out of trouble. Losing you would be devastating to him."

Marian sighed. "Damn. I hate it when you're right."

"Then let him walk you back to the castle. Let him apologize. Please?"

Marian looked back over at Gwaine as he paid the innkeeper. He looked sad and tired and, well, resigned. She softened toward the knight and agreed.

"Alright, fine." Suddenly exhausted, Marian stood, ready to go. "Well, ladies and gents. It's time for me to go. Thank you so much for the lovely evening. It's meant the world to me!"

Gwen looked over at Gwaine and nodded.

"But it's still early," Lancelot said.

"I know, but I'm shattered."

"Yeah, boar hunting will do that," Elyan chuckled.

Marian frowned as everyone around her laughed, clearly aware of what had happened in the woods. With her sour mood returning, she stormed out of the tavern.

"Thanks a lot," Gwaine muttered as he followed her out.

Marian and Gwaine didn't speak on the way up to the castle. And when she looked over at him, he had the air of a man going to his own funeral.

She was disgusted at the way she'd ignored him. Even if he hadn't planned a surprise party for her, he didn't deserve the silent treatment. But how could she get over her own hurt so easily? They had bickered and argued before, but nothing felt as agonizingly awful as this.

When they reached the castle steps, she tried to make amends. Or at least start a conversation. "Gwaine—"

"I'll walk you to your bedchamber."

"I can—"

"I know, but you've had a lot of ale, and you're probably a bit tipsy. Wouldn't want you to trip and fall."

"I had as much as you."

"Exactly," he said, still walking with her but refusing to look her way.

She nodded, knowing he wouldn't see, and they continued down the corridor in silence. He stepped in front of her as they reached her door and opened it. The torchlight from the corridor was all that lit the room.

"You're still angry with me, aren't you?" he asked, disheartened, as they walked in.

She shook her head but didn't speak. She didn't know what to say. No longer angry with him but still hurt, she couldn't think of an appropriate response—one that would let him know how upset she'd felt, that he'd been unfairly harsh with her during training. But also one that would tell that she was sorry for how rude she'd been in the tavern.

Lighting the candles for her, he came across the book he'd given her on the floor, splayed out in the corner of the room. He sighed, and, picking it up, he closed it and laid it on top of her chest of drawers. Nothing was going to plan, and it was going to be harder than he thought to mend their friendship, it seemed.

"Marian," he said as he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him.

"Thirty," she said, trying to keep the hurt from her voice.

"Thirty?"

"It's my thirtieth birthday."

"Ah, I see."

"What about you?"

"It's not my birthday."

"I know that. I'm asking how old you are."

"I thought it was rude to ask that."

"I'm trying to—never mind." She shook his hand off her shoulder and turned back around.

"I'm sorry, Marian. I was just joking." He sighed when she didn't turn to face him. "Thirty-two."

"Huh. Not much older than me, then."

"Marian—"

"I just have a headache, Gwaine. The excitement from earlier today has me all tensed up."

He sighed again and pulled her over to the bed, coaxing her to sit. "Allow me to help with that," he said as he climbed onto the mattress and scooted behind her. "It is my fault, after all."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

Gwaine moved her hair to the side and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing and kneading the tight muscles.

Marian rolled her neck as he massaged her, her skin prickling as he made short work of the knots. "Why, though?" she asked, barely audible.

"Why what?"

"Why were you so hard on me?"

He moved his hands down her back, digging in to release the tensed muscles. "If you are to brandish a weapon, love, you need to be prepared to use it. What you learned from Arthur wasn't enough."

"But I thought—"

"It's a dangerous world out there," he interrupted as he moved his hands to her neck and scalp, his thumbs kneading into her nape. "And I mean for you to be able to defend yourself without help. I don't mean to hurt you, Marian. I never want to hurt you."

Marian tilted her head back and closed her eyes, moaning as he moved to her temples, his calloused fingers going in circles against her head.

When Gwaine finished, he climbed off the bed and sat beside her. "But most bandits and thugs out there are heavier, stronger, and more skilled with a blade than you are, sweetheart. So, I want to even the odds," he finished, a tender smile growing across his face.

She looked down at her feet. He was only trying to help her take care of herself. While she learned a lot about castle life and how to survive in the Dark Ages, no one—not even she—had thought to ensure she could effectively defend herself. No one until Gwaine.

He hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. "I want you safe, Marian. Especially when I can't be there with you."

"I'm sorry, Gwaine. I shouldn't have been such an ass," Marian said, her eyes roaming his face. She saw wisdom and kindness and affection. When they'd first met, she'd never have guessed that the Gwaine of legend could be as incredibly good as the man before her. Marian's heart fluttered as they sat there, staring at one another with innocent affection.

"And I'm sorry about the boar," he said, breaking the silence. "I should have listened to you and respected how you felt. It's not an easy thing to take a life and I never should have forced you into it. Friends again?"

He held her hands in his, studying her closely as she nodded, her eyes wide and pleading. And he watched as her gaze darted from his eyes to his lips. He leaned in, yearning to kiss her, to hold her, to love her. Instead, he cleared his throat and stood.

"How's your head?" he asked.

Marian rolled her neck and shoulders, marveling at how good she felt. "Much better. Amazing, actually. Thank you," she said, grinning.

"Good. I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth bundle, placing it in her hands.

Marian beamed at him. She hadn't expected any presents, but once again, he did the unexpected. As the cloth unfolded, she gasped in delight. There was a rainbow of ribbons wrapped up in the fabric—blue, purple, green, pink, red, and yellow, all in different shades. Marian looked up at him with genuine surprise.

"Hair ribbons," he said, as he picked up the end of her hair and fingered her locks. "Something beautiful for the beautiful healer."

She jumped up from the bed and into his arms, hugging him with all her strength. "I don't know what to say."

Gwaine's heart soared. Marian was holding onto him… because she wanted to. She'd happily leapt into his arms. She'd wound her arms around his neck. Soft and strong at the same time, she held onto him, not because of danger or fear or relief. She did it because she wanted to touch him, wanted to hold him. She wanted.

He closed his eyes and buried his face into her hair, feeling happy and whole as his arms tightened around her waist. His voice was soft as he spoke. "You don't have to say anything, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Gwaine." Though he couldn't see her smile, he heard it in her voice.

She held onto him for another moment, reveling in his warmth and strength. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled his scent—leather and musk—and she sighed, feeling loved and safe in his arms, feeling content.

She pulled back and lifted herself to place a kiss on his cheek. "Gwen told me that the celebration in the tavern was your doing. You've done so much for me today, Gwaine. How can I ever repay your kindness?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than for her to be happy. He felt such fondness, such strong emotion for the woman in his arms. Gwaine would give anything for her to return his affection. But for now…

"Just be happy, Marian."