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 Samhain and Morgana has opened the veil for the dorocha to come through. Marian goes with Gwaine, Arthur, Merlin and the rest of the knights to save the kingdom and the death of a friend affects them all.

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The Darkest Hour

It was the first Samhain feast Marian had been invited to—well, maybe invited wasn't the right word. Servants weren't invited to feasts—they worked them. But one of the usual serving maids was heavy with child, so Marian volunteered to take her place for the night, eager to see how the celebration differed from the costumes and trick-or-treating of Halloween.

Standing off to the side, a jug of wine at the ready, her empty stomach growled.

Next time, I should definitely eat before the feast.

Thankfully, she had little time to dwell on her hunger after Gwaine took a seat at the table directly across the hall. When she caught him staring at her, she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

Taken by surprise, Gwaine choked on his wine. The challenge was issued, and Gwaine, bound by the Knight's Code, had no choice but to engage in battle. He retaliated, puffing his cheeks and bugging out his eyes.

She countered, scrunching up her nose and mouth, rolling her eyes back.

During the next quarter-hour, they made ridiculous faces, trying to get the other to laugh.

Percival glanced over at Gwaine as he pulled a particularly ridiculous expression. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

Gwaine hadn't heard him, his attention was held across the hall. When Gwaine laughed into his wine goblet, Percival followed his gaze.

Of course… Marian, he thought, smiling at the two. Percival shook his head and chuckled as she snarled, her tongue sticking out from the side of her mouth. She and Gwaine were more alike than either would admit. They were perfect for each other, both with good humor and kindness.

After Marian had approached him not long after her birthday party, Percival had opened up, confiding his growing affection for Elyan. How she'd guessed, Percival didn't know, but she was a sympathetic ear—since these things weren't commonly spoken about—and assured him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, that it was normal. She promised to be there for him and keep his secret, though she urged him not to dismiss his feelings so quickly. Perhaps you should wait and see how Elyan feels, she'd said to him. You might be surprised.

Percival grinned and watched his close friends flirt with each other across the dining hall.

Arthur stood at the head table and everyone grew quiet. "Samhain. It is the time of year when we feel closest to the spirits of our ancestors. It is a time to remember those we have lost—to celebrate their passing."

As the prince continued on about tradition and loss, Marian couldn't help but think of what she'd lost when she fell back in time. While she enjoyed herself in Camelot, her mind couldn't help but wander to her family and friends, none of whom had even been born yet. It was bittersweet. Her Grandma Rosie still had her whole life ahead of her, even if it was fifteen hundred years in the future. And her young brother Jamie had yet to live his brief life. She wondered if the same rules of time constrained the world beyond the veil that this world was. Were her grandmother and brother's souls already in the beyond, looking back in time to watch over her?

She was brought back to reality when Arthur raised his goblet to toast.

"To the king."

"To the king," the room replied, raising their glasses as the castle bells rang, signaling Samhain's arrival.

Marian felt a chilled draft flow through the hall, gently brushing against her face. Time seemed to slow down, and voices grew deep and slow. The people looked as if they were moving through molasses as they finished their toast. She watched the knights clink their goblets together, and Gwaine slowly turned his head to her, smiling brightly and winking at her. Her heart sunk to her stomach, and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

Magic.

How could she feel magic? Merlin had before, but he was a great and powerful wizard. The great and powerful wizard. Afraid, she turned to Merlin, hoping he saw it too, that she wasn't going insane. But Merlin was as white as a ghost. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped his jug, passing out. Time sped up to its normal pace as soon as he hit the floor, and the echo of the metal jug reverberated around the hall, catching everyone's attention.

Marian rushed over and dropped to the floor next to him. Merlin was cold, and his pulse was slow. Worried, she patted his cheek, trying to wake him. "Merlin?"

Lancelot came over and knelt on Merlin's other side, watching as Marian tried to wake him. "Is he alright?"

She shook her head.

"Let's get him to his chamber," Lancelot said as Gaius arrived.

She looked up at Gaius with her brow knitted. "His pulse is slow."

"Lancelot, would you mind?" Gaius asked, gesturing to Merlin.

Lancelot picked Merlin up and carried him from the dining hall. While Gaius followed closely behind, Marian stopped and turned to glance at Gwaine. She felt scared. Not just about Merlin, but also about what she thought could only be magic. She meant for Gwaine to calm and reassure her, but instead, he gave her an uneasy smile. She wondered if Gwaine had felt the magic, too.

When they reached Merlin's chamber, Lancelot laid him on the bed. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I've never felt anyone so cold before," Gaius replied as he leaned over to examine Merlin.

Marian placed her hand on Merlin's brow as he shivered. Gaius was right. Merlin was as cold as death.

Lancelot looked between Gaius and Marian. "Will he be alright?"

"I hope so," Marian said, biting her lip. "Did… did either of you feel the cold in the dining hall?"

Gaius looked up from Merlin and shook his head.

"It was quite warm in the hall," Lancelot replied. "But of course, that could've just been an overindulgence of wine."

"It was soft, like a breeze. And time… it slowed. Everyone was moving slowly. My heart nearly stopped."

Gaius and Lancelot shared a look.

"Everything seemed normal to me. Do you believe it was magic?" Lancelot asked.

"Maybe…" she trailed off, concerned that no one else had felt it.

"Marian, how would you be able to feel magic? Are you—"

"I'll need hawthorn to improve the blood flow," Gaius interrupted. "And blankets. Lots of blankets."

"I'll get the hawthorn," Marian said to Lancelot, thankful for the interruption.

"And I'll get the blankets."

When they were outside Merlin's chamber, Lancelot stopped, put his hand on Marian's shoulder, and squeezed. She held her breath, expecting an interrogation. Instead, Lancelot smiled softly.

"Merlin will be okay, Marian. Gaius is the best physician in the five kingdoms."

"I know. I just can't help but worry about him."

"Your heart does you credit. Surrounded by so much love, there is no way Merlin won't heal," Lancelot said as he went to a chest beside Gaius's bed and opened it to find more blankets.

Marian walked over to the cupboard and searched for hawthorn. "I don't just worry about Merlin, you know," she said, picking through the glass vials. "All of you are loved, Lancelot. Gaius, Gwen, Arthur, all the knights. It kills me anytime any of you are in danger. You're my family."

"Even Gwaine?" Lancelot grinned at her.

She cast a quick glance at him. "Yes," she said as she turned back to the cupboard and smiled, "even Gwaine."

"He cares for you, you know."

She picked up the jar of hawthorne and started back, but Lancelot stood in front of her. She sighed. "We're very good friends, Lancelot. That's all."

"Are you sure there's nothing more?"

She looked away. "There can't ever be more. I can't…"

Lancelot nodded. "I understand."

"No, I don't think you do. I just… feeling the way I want to isn't something I should do. It's better if he and I just remain friends. Close friends, but just friends."

He smiled gently and moved out of her way.

They returned to Merlin's room, Marian handing Gaius the hawthorn while Lancelot spread two blankets over Merlin. As Lancelot turned to leave, he stopped in the doorway and looked back at them.

"You'll let me know how he is?" he asked.

"Of course."

Gaius was grinding herbs an hour later while Marian measured various liquids in small vials. He mulled over the events in the hall, worried. Somehow, magic had been present at their celebration, and magic on Samhain usually meant trouble.

They looked up from their work when Merlin walked out of his room, wrapped in a blanket. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his already pale skin was as white as a sheet. Gaius beckoned him over to the worktable and sat on the bench beside him.

Marian stoked the fire and then sat on the floor in front of them, waiting. Merlin told them about the woman who appeared before he passed out.

"When she spoke, her voice…," he trailed off, still affected by the potent magic. "It was as though it came from the depths of the earth, and her eyes… they were so sad. So much pain in them. Who is she?"

Gaius sighed. "The Cailleach, the gatekeeper to the spirit world."

"Why was she there?"

"It was on the stroke of midnight of Samhain's Eve, the very moment when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. It cannot be a coincidence."

"Why was I the only one to see her? Or did either of you…"

Marian shook her head. "I didn't see her, but I felt… something."

"You have great power, Merlin," Gaius said, trying to remain calm. "For someone so gifted, such visions are not uncommon."

Merlin shook his head, frustrated. "But you don't understand. It wasn't a vision. She knew who I was. She called me Emrys."

Marian shuddered, icy chills creeping up her spine. In her time, Samhain—or Halloween—was notorious throughout history as a day of spirits, devilry, and death. She had dismissed it as mere superstition, but it seemed that in superstition lies some truth.

Merlin looked from Gaius to Marian and back. "What is it? What does it mean?"

"I'm not sure," Gaius said. "But if someone has torn the veil between the worlds, then god help us all."

Merlin went about his usual duties the next morning tense, afraid, and worried. He couldn't shake the ominous feeling from the night before. There was something very wrong in the kingdom of Camelot.

Marian and Gaius were working on a potion when suddenly Gaius received a summons to the council chambers. She stayed to finish their brew, standing at the worktable and absorbed in reading the instructions, when a gentle knock sounded at the door.

Gwaine entered the physician's chambers, and seeing that she was alone, he walked up next to her to lean back on the table. "How's Merlin?"

"Better," she replied without looking up from her book.

Gwaine had noticed how concerned she had been for Merlin—who wouldn't be—but he also took notice of how tender she'd been the night before. In fact, he'd noticed that she paid Merlin quite a bit of loving attention this past year. He suspected she cared for Merlin a lot more than as a friend, and though he counted Merlin as one of his dearest friends, he couldn't help but envy him.

"And you? Are you alright?"

Marian looked up when Gwaine asked. Puzzled at his solemn behavior, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I'm fine. Gwaine, what's this about?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, I just—" he stopped as Gaius entered the chambers. "It's nothing," he said softly, standing up from the table.

She continued to study the knight even as Gaius spoke. Though his concern for her wasn't out of the ordinary, Gwaine was behaving oddly. He'd never been too timid to speak his mind, especially in front of Gaius. Again, she wondered if he had felt anything in the dining hall the night before.

"Gwaine, you need to go see the prince. There has been a development," Gaius said.

Mouth in a thin line, Gwaine nodded to Gaius and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back to Marian and waved a quick goodbye.

She lifted her hand to wave in return, but he left too quickly to see it. Her eyes lingered on the doorway a moment longer, hoping in vain that he'd return.

"Gaius, what's happened?"

"There's been an attack in one of the outlying villages. All were killed, save a young girl."

"All? Every villager? Who could do such a thing?"

"Men without faces, according to the girl. She said they were there, but they weren't there, floating in the air and screaming."

The hair on her arms rose, and goose pimples set in.

"It sounds like…" she trailed off and shook her head. "No, that's silly. They aren't real, are they? Gaius, could it have been ghosts?"

Arthur led a patrol of knights to investigate the young girl's village. He hoped that it wouldn't take much time to look around, since she had said that no one else was left alive. He couldn't have been more wrong.

At first, they only found an abandoned village and a few villagers who'd been frozen to death—that is until Arthur and the knights were readying to leave.

Ethereal ghost-like creatures roamed the sky, chasing the knights, screaming with a thousand voices. Whatever they were, they weren't of this world, and Merlin's magic was useless against them. The only thing that held the shrieking spirits at bay was the firelight from a torch. In the darkness, the ghosts were deadly.

Though Arthur and his knights had left early enough in the day, they didn't return until long after nightfall.

The city of Camelot had fared little better than the village. As the sun sank beneath the horizon, the ghosts came out to play, chasing and screaming in victory as they froze person after person. Though advised to carry a torch if they leave the safety of their homes, too many of Camelot's citizens fell victim to the deadly spirits.

Short on space, a makeshift morgue had to be set up in the throne room for the overflow of dead. Both noble and peasant alike lost their lives—no class was safe. Marian and Gwen helped Gaius set everything up and arrange the bodies while trying to stay calm. And alive.

"Gwen! Lookout!" Marian yelled, waving a torch above her friend's head. The ghost that had swooped down dissipated in the flame.

Gwen looked at Marian and Gaius with wide eyes, shaking with fright. "How much longer can we hold out?"

"We'll be lucky to make it through the night," Marian replied. She walked around Gwen and Gaius, listening for more spirits.

"We need to hurry," Gaius said. "Gwen, take this and cover Lady Berta."

Gwen took the white sheet and walked over to the noblewoman's body. Lady Berta's eyes were open and unseeing, and ice crystals hung on her frozen skin. Gwen shuddered at the terrified look on the dead woman's face as she spread the sheet over the body.

"We must stay in the light," she said, turning to Marian and Gaius. "Promise me you'll both take care and stay in the light."

Marian handed the torch to Gaius and hugged Gwen. "You too, Gwen. It's no time to be a hero. Leave that to the knuckleheads in the tin suits."

Marian and Gwen shared a brief laugh but sobered as the ghosts' screams grew louder.

"Come, we can stay in the inner chamber tonight. Several of the servants are gathering there," Gaius said.

Marian grabbed another torch and shook her head. "You two go on."

"No, Marian—"

"I'll be alright, Gwen. I promise. There are a few others I want to check on, anyway. Go with Gaius. It'll be safer than trying to make it home tonight."

Marian grabbed as many candles as she could find and went down to the servants' quarters by the kitchens. Knocking on the kitchen maids' bedchamber doors, she passed candles out and warned the girls to stay inside and in the light.

She stuck her head in the kitchens to see if Audrey, the cook, would need any candles, but Marian needn't have even bothered. Audrey and a few others were bustling through the kitchens, brightened by the fires in stone ovens, preparing bundles of food to pass out to the people who'd sought refuge in the citadel.

After being rudely shooed out of the kitchens, Marian went back upstairs to her bedchamber to get some sleep.

Fearless as a child, Marian would taunt the monsters under her bed and search for the things that went bump in the night. But coming to Camelot, where magic and monsters were real, had instilled a healthy dose of fear in her. Though the light would undoubtedly keep her awake, Marian lit every candle she could find before changing into her nightdress and climbing into bed.

Just as she began to doze off, she heard the screams. As an icy breeze came in under the door, blowing the candles out, she held her breath and listened. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the hair on her arms and neck stood on end.

The screams were getting louder. Closer. And somehow more terrifying.

Panicked, she jumped from her bed and ran to open the door. Turning as she was going out her door, she saw one of the ghosts float through the window and toward her, its face a menacing skull. She ducked and ran, ignoring the cold stone floor on her bare feet and the chilled night air.

Each time she thought she'd found a refuge, the ghost swooped down at her, howling like a banshee. Its movements were deft and quiet as they flew around corners and through stone walls. Torches extinguished as she ran past, plummeting her into darkness. The spirit chased her, determined to catch her, as it seemed to anticipate her every move.

Feeling lost and confused, she ran through the wing that housed the knights, twisting and turning around the corners, not knowing where she was headed.

"Shit!" she cried as she tried door after door, only to find them locked.

In an instant, she reached the end of a corridor, with every room between her and the spirit locked. She backed up against the last door, light pouring around the cracks. Surely it meant someone was inside, ready with a flame to chase the ghosts away.

As the spirit screamed, she grabbed the door handle and pushed, but the door wouldn't budge. She pushed harder, shaking the wood, willing it to open. "Please!" she screamed, the ghost drawing near.

She turned around and pressed her back against the door, preparing to face her death. The spirit was so close that she could see the corners of its mouth turn up in a menacing sneer. Finally, it had won their game of cat and mouse, and it would be rewarded with her death.

Marian closed her eyes, scared but resigned to her fate. She drew a long breath and held it.

Just then, the door behind her opened, and she fell back, an arm grabbing her around the waist, pulling her into the room. A torch waved in front of them, and the spirit dissolved.

Gwaine turned to look at her, concerned.

"Marian, are you alright?" he asked as he replaced the torch onto the wall sconce and closed the chamber door.

She didn't answer him right away. Instead, she bounded into his arms and clutched to him, shuddering with fear.

He wrapped her in his embrace and held her close. "It's alright. I've got you, love," he said, smoothing her hair.

Marian backed out of his arms when she finally felt safe. "Sorry, I don't… I…" she trailed off, blowing out an unsteady breath.

"What were you doing in the corridor without a torch? And in…" he quickly looked her up and down, "in your nightdress?" He smirked at her as he went to lock the door.

Marian's dress was white, with thin straps climbing up her chest and over her shoulders and a low neckline that plunged between the swell of her breasts. The worn fabric hardly left anything to the imagination. The dress clung to the curvier parts of her body as if it had been made for someone smaller. This wasn't the thick nightdress he had seen before. This one appeared to be on the verge of falling apart with just one sharp tug. No, Gwaine rather liked this nightdress better.

If he hadn't been a gentleman, he would've traced the curve of her breasts with his gaze until he saw her darkened nipples pressing against the threadbare fabric. He might've even looked when she turned around, ogling as her ample backside jiggled and moved as she walked. But he was a gentleman. Well, he was mostly a gentleman, anyway. Couldn't blame a man for looking.

He held his breath as he took her in, blushing, and sucked in his lower lip. Finally pulling his eyes up, he met her hard gaze with an intense one of his own.

He looked like a starving wolf who was about to kill its prey. And that damn smolder again. Marian swallowed hard, both turned on and annoyed at her reaction to him, like a simpering schoolgirl fawning over the hot guy. She was struggling to suppress her need to jump him when he looked at her like that, devouring her. She wished to god she had worn a different nightdress.

"This isn't on purpose," she said. "I didn't think, hey, I'll go find a knight while I'm in a state of undress and go pester him and nearly get killed. They chased me from my bedchamber while I was trying to sleep."

Gwaine's grin widened. "Well, best not try that again. You can stay here until morning."

"Morning?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sleeping in your chambers, Gwaine."

"We don't have to sleep, you know," he wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

"I am not staying in here all night."

"The alternative isn't that attractive, beautiful. It's in here with me or out there with the deadly ghosts. So, what's it going to be? Me or certain death?"

Knowing he was right, Marian dropped her arms in defeat. "Fine, but no funny business. I'll…" She looked around Gwaine's chambers. It was well-lit and cozy, with a fire roaring in the fireplace. "I'll just stay here by the fire."

Gwaine shook his head. "No, don't be ridiculous. We're grown adults, Marian. We can both sleep on the bed." At her look, he held his hands up. "I won't try anything. You have my word." When she didn't answer right away, he continued. "It's just for one night. We'll both be safer."

Marian nodded once. "Fine."

Not pleased with the situation, she realized that her annoyance didn't stem from her inability to control her desire around him. Instead, it was because she was getting too close to Gwaine and had developed feelings for him, feelings that she tried to bury deep down inside. Lancelot was right, after all.

Climbing onto the bed's far side and under the covers, she noticed an open book on the bedside table. "You sure I'm not bothering you? Looks like you were busy," she said, pointing to his book.

"Not at all," he replied, grinning. "I'll finish it later. It's the tale of Bernard the Brave."

"Who?"

"You've never heard of Bernard the Brave? The knight who defeated the two-headed dragon? Who chased away the Sirens of Nagladore? Who stepped into the Cave of Destruction and lived to tell the tale?" He scoffed at her blank look. "Surely, you've heard it. It's a love story!"

She arched an eyebrow. "A love story," she said, her voice flat with disbelief.

"Yes, the love between a man and his sword."

"Of course it is," she chuckled.

Gwaine sighed in relief when Marian decided to stay safe with him in his chambers. Her talent for trouble worried him more than she knew. There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight with deadly ghosts about the castle. True to his word, he was a perfect gentleman. He pulled his boots off and lay on top of the blanket, still wearing his tunic and trousers. With his arms behind his head, he closed his eyes, ready to drop off.

"Gwaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for saving me… again."

He cracked an eye open and looked at her. "A damsel in distress? How could I resist?"

She was on her side, facing him, and when she saw him looking at her, she smiled before closing her own eyes and drifting off to sleep, safe and warm.

He grinned. For once, all was right in his world.

The sun shone through the window at just the right angle to hit Gwaine's eye. He stirred, keeping his eyes shut to savor the last vestiges of a comfortable and relaxing sleep. Warm and cozy in his bed, he was having difficulty taking a deep breath, and as his brain caught up, he realized that there was something heavy on his chest. He attempted to lift his arm to feel what was there, but it was pinned down.

He reluctantly opened his eyes and looked down. Marian lay sprawled across him, fast asleep. No longer under the blanket, her head was on his chest, with locks of her hair tickling his face. With her arm firmly embracing his waist and her nightdress up to an immodest level, her legs entwined with his, their bare feet touching. She was snug and soft and comfortable.

He held her, one hand around her waist and the other resting on her arm. It'd been a long time since he'd found himself in bed with a woman. Too long, really. It was no wonder he'd slept so well.

As he raised his hand to gently shake her awake, he stopped. He took in the sight of her nestled up to him, her smooth, pale skin distinct from his tanned and calloused hands. He sighed and smiled affectionately, his heart soaring. Marian hadn't meant to lay on him like that, he knew, and she would be cross when she woke up to find herself snuggled up against him. But for that one brief moment, he could pretend that they were a loving couple. That she wanted to be in bed with him. That she wanted him.

When he felt other parts of his body waking up, he urgently laid his hand on her shoulder to shake her awake. "Marian," he breathed.

"Mmph," she replied and squeezed him harder, her body pressing against him.

"Marian, wake up," he begged, beginning to panic. If she didn't get off him soon, it would be an embarrassing situation for both of them.

"Mmph," she mumbled as she moved her head up his chest and nuzzled his neck, her soft lips tickling his skin.

The supple flesh of her breasts spilled from the fabric of her nightdress, pressing against his torso. Finding the hem of his tunic, her hand slipped underneath and slid up his chiseled chest. She stopped when her fingers found his nipple, her thumb rubbing back and forth, causing chill bumps all over his skin.

The situation was becoming desperate. He swallowed hard as he tried to control his body and failed miserably. Just the thought of her was enough to arouse the knight, but her touch, the feel of her on him, was close to unbearable. He needed her to move before his body responded in kind.

She moaned softly as she curled her leg up his body, resting on the growing bulge in his trousers.

He drew in a sharp breath. "Marian, sweetheart, you need to move."

She stopped shifting and tensed, opening her eyes. "Fuck," she said, her voice muffled in his neck. Lifting her head, she looked at him and turned red from embarrassment. "Fuck, sorry. Fuck. Jesus. Fuck."

She withdrew her hand from his tunic and promptly rolled over to the other side of the bed, sitting up to adjust her nightdress. She shivered, all too aware of the loss of his heat.

Gwaine took a deep breath to calm down, relieved that she was no longer lying on him. "In my defense, I did try to wake you."

Marian swung her feet over the side of the bed and held her head in her hands, her face burning in shame. She felt mortified that she'd not only cuddled up to him but also had felt his morning arousal—maybe even causing it. "No, it's not—I'm sorry. I don't usually move that much at night. I guess I forgot I wasn't in my own bed."

He sat up, looking at her fondly. Her hair was sticking up all over the place, and her skin was flushed. She looked lovely first thing in the morning, despite the discomfort and embarrassment she felt. When she turned to hide her face, he sighed, deciding not to tease her. He got up and, grabbing his jacket from the chair across the room, walked back to the bed and handed it to her.

"Here, put this on," he said gently.

Marian took the jacket and pulled her arms through the sleeves, inhaling the scent of leather and musk that swirled up to her nose. Nothing changes, she thought, smiling at Gwaine's thoughtfulness and care.

After pulling his boots on, Gwaine stood and offered Marian his hand. "Let's get you back to your chamber before the whole castle wakes up. We wouldn't want tongues to wag."

The chilled morning air swept through the corridors, reminding her that she was barefoot. She pulled the jacket closed, hugged her body, and moved closer to his side, hoping to steal some of his body heat.

"Where do you plan on staying tonight?" he asked as they walked back to her bedchamber.

"What do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "You can't stay in your chamber alone after dark. Where are you planning to sleep?"

"I don't really know."

He stopped and faced her, worry etched on his face. "Marian, you need to take care."

"I take care of myself, Gwaine."

He arched an eyebrow at her and crossed his arms. "Then why were you on your own last night, with no torch, no candle?"

"I already told you—"

"You need to think, love."

"Excuse me?"

"Why weren't you with Gaius or Gwen?"

"I was down in the kitchens making sure the maids had enough candles to last through the night."

Gwaine smiled at her kindness and soft heart, but her reckless actions concerned him. "As admirable as it is to have a care for others, love, it nearly cost you your life."

Irritated, she huffed and walked off down the corridor. "I'm not a child."

He shook his head in frustration. He just wasn't saying it right. "Marian, wait," he called as he ran after her. When he reached her, he tugged on her arm to make her stop and turn to him. "I cocked that up. I'm sorry."

She simply nodded. Embarrassed and then shamed was not how she'd wanted to start the day.

"I just worry about you, beautiful," he said, sighing.

"I know."

"Especially when I'm not around to save you," he said, grinning.

Marian chuckled at him and then sobered suddenly. "Wait, what do you mean when you're not around? Where are you going?"

"I imagine Arthur will have concocted some plan or another to fight these ghosts off. If it's outside of the city walls, then…" Gwaine held her at arms-length and looked at her with a grave expression. "Promise me that you'll stay with Gaius or Merlin."

"Why—"

"Please, Marian. There's safety in numbers. I need to know you'll stay safe."

"I'll stay with Gaius or Merlin. I promise."

He blew out a sigh of relief and dropped his arms.

She took off his jacket and handed it back to him when they reached her door. "Thank you for everything, Gwaine." She stepped up, lifting herself enough to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. Blushing, she backed into her chamber and closed the door.

He smiled and touched his cheek where she'd kissed him. Even after a year in Camelot, he still wasn't used to the friendly touching and affection. Gwaine felt surprised each time Marian showed her fondness for him. It felt good to finally have friends who cared. Turning from her door, he started off to the council chamber, ready to take on whatever the day had in store for him.

By the time Marian dressed and readied herself, Gaius and Merlin had returned from a meeting with the prince. She followed them in, took one look at their somber faces, and cringed.

"What happened?"

"Those ghosts…" Merlin said, "They're called dorocha. They're killing everyone in Camelot, and my magic is useless against them." He sat down on the bench, frustrated and feeling hopeless.

"Oh, god, Merlin," she said as she walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"It appears that Morgana went to the Isle of the Blessed and tore the veil between the worlds, letting the dorocha roam freely," Gaius said.

Marian gasped. "What? Why would she do that? That… that's insane! That's what happened on Samhain, wasn't it? The Cailleach appearing?"

Gaius nodded while Merlin ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

"Well, how do we stop them?"

"For the veil to be repaired, there must be a blood sacrifice," Gaius replied.

"Oh, god! Who?"

"Arthur intends to sacrifice himself," Merlin blurted out as he stood angrily. "He won't listen to reason."

"What?" she yelled. "No, he can't do that! Can't it be an animal or something? Does it have to be a person?"

Gaius shook his head. "It must be the same kind of sacrifice that opened the veil in the first place."

"So, Arthur thinks it has to be him?"

Merlin wouldn't meet her eye. He knew what he had to do, and it would break both of their hearts. He intended to take Arthur's place. Giving his life for Arthur was his destiny, after all. "Yes," he replied. "He's taking the responsibility, even though Camelot would suffer without him."

"And everyone is just letting him? Has Uther been told?"

"Marian, Uther is in no state to do anything about it," Gaius said.

He was right. Ever since Morgana had betrayed Uther and Camelot, the king had been in a near-catatonic state, heartbroken, and leaving Arthur and his advisors to run the kingdom.

"What about Agravaine? The council? Anyone? Arthur can't just sacrifice himself. He has a responsibility to the kingdom to live!"

"I know that!" Merlin shouted. "Sorry, I just… I don't know how to stop him."

"Merlin, are you—?"

He looked away. She knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to take Arthur's place. She couldn't let him do that, of course. He was too important to Camelot. To history. It was Arthur and Merlin's story, not hers. So, she decided to do the only thing she could. She was going to keep them both safe. She would sacrifice herself.

"Excuse me," she said as she left to go to her chamber.

Once there, she changed into her traveling tunic and trousers and packed a few items in a small leather bag, attempting to reason with herself.

"You have to do this," she said out loud. "Merlin and Arthur are important to the future. You aren't even in the legends. You're no one important."

If Marian said she wasn't scared, she would be lying. She didn't want to die, but there were more important things than her life. "Like love?" she asked herself. "You've never had the chance to fall in love. Or have any children. Or just… be happy. Jesus! What the fuck am I doing?"

She slipped the jar of King's Wart she'd gotten from Gwaine last year into the bag.

Gwaine.

He'd made her promise to stay safe.

"And what about the people you care for, huh? Or that care about you? When I die, it'll hurt them. It'll hurt Gwaine. Fuck."

She sat down on her bed, taking deep, calming breaths. "But you have to do this. Without Arthur or Merlin, there wouldn't be a future for Gwaine. Or… or anyone. Right?"

She realized she couldn't take the chance of messing up history. Who knew what the consequences would be? She wondered as she finished packing her bag, was she brave or just stupid?

"Right."

When she was done, she grabbed her bag and rushed back to tell Gaius she was leaving. She'd never see him again, and that thought hurt. Her parents had all but abandoned her, never really caring for her. But Gaius, he was loving and kind, and… He was her father in every way but blood.

Merlin almost collided with her as she opened the door, interrupting her thoughts.

"Wait for me?" she asked him before heading into the physician's chambers.

"I'll get our horses ready."

Gaius was at his worktable when she entered the room, just staring at the mortar and pestle with a forlorn look on his face.

"Gaius?"

When the physician saw Marian dressed in her traveling clothes and a bag over her shoulder, he sighed. "Not you, too."

"Gaius, I'll keep them both safe. I promise," she said as she walked over to him and hugged him.

When he pulled back, he held her at arm's length and looked her in the eye. The way he could stare as if he were seeing deep inside her soul, that he knew her very thoughts, was unnerving. She wasn't sure if it was pure wisdom or maybe a little bit of magic, too.

"Remember, Marian, you are important, too." When she tried to argue, Gaius held up his hand. "To me, you are. I don't want to lose either of you." He smiled softly and then turned back to his worktable, still unable to do anything other than stare. He didn't know how much more heartache he could take.

Marian met Merlin at the stables and followed him to the training grounds where the rest of their party was waiting. When they reached the grassy hill, Arthur turned to them and sighed.

"No, absolutely not. Marian, you are to stay here. It's dangerous. You could get hurt or worse."

"Am I not allowed to fight for my home like the rest of you? Is it because I'm not a knight or because I'm a woman?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Arthur sighed again. "It's not because you're a woman."

She arched her eyebrow at him.

"I swear to you it's not. Not really."

She pursed her lips.

"Marian, how many times do we have to have this argument?"

"Until it sinks into your thick skull that I'm going."

Everyone looked at her in disbelief. Only Merlin had a grin on his face.

Arthur snickered. "Did you just say I had a thick skull?"

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Arthur knew this look. It was the look she gave him when he was just about to give in. It took her a few years to get used to him and once she did, she rarely backed down.

He had one last hope. "Gwaine, talk some sense into her."

"Arthur, Marian has proved she can look after herself." He chuckled. "Besides, I doubt even Morgana would cross the lady when she's in a foul mood."

"Fine," Arthur gave in. "But you have to keep up and no special treatment. You'll be like any other knight."

She grinned as she mounted her horse. "Of course, sire."

Gwaine rode up next to her as they started their long journey. "I thought you promised to stay safe in the castle."

"I did no such thing."

"But—Yes, you did. This morning you said—"

"I promised to stay with Merlin, and I'm keeping that promise." Marian kicked her horse and rode further up the line to keep from arguing with him.

Gwaine rolled his eyes at how she'd twisted her promise but smiled, anyway. He'd have done the same thing.

Stopping in the forest to set up camp, Merlin volunteered to collect firewood while the others scouted the area. Marian was about to follow when Lancelot caught her eye and shook his head. He followed Merlin into the forest instead, leaving Marian alone with Arthur.

"What do you need me to do, sire?"

"You can help me clear a place to build a fire."

They removed brush and pulled logs to the center of the clearing. Next, they found a few rocks for a makeshift fire pit. Marian paused and wiped her forehead with her sleeve, sweating with the effort of readying the camp. When she looked over, she caught Arthur looking at her thoughtfully.

"What?" she asked.

"We've known each other for several years now, haven't we?"

Marian nodded. "We have…"

"All that time, and I still can't figure you out, Marian."

"What do you mean?"

Arthur moved the last of the brush and sat down on a dry log. "You don't have to do this, you know. You fight to come with us on missions and quests, but you have a comfortable life with Gaius and may even take his place someday. Instead, here you are, riding with knights, to face certain death."

"I have to do this, Arthur. As I said to you a year ago, you're my family. Who wouldn't move mountains to make sure that their family is safe?"

He picked up a stick and broke it while lost in thought.

"Arthur, I know what you're planning," Marian said as she sat on the log next to him.

"As you said, who wouldn't move mountains?"

"It's a terrible burden to carry. Just know that you don't have to carry it alone."

He sighed. She was right, it was a burden, but it was his and his alone. His burden and his birthright. His duty was to protect the kingdom by any means. That was the most important lesson he'd learned as a young boy. During all his training, that was the one thing Uther instilled in his son. Duty to Camelot.

When Merlin and Lancelot returned from gathering firewood, Merlin set to work lighting the fire and preparing their supper. The other knights came back just in time to eat and then took turns keeping watch into the night when the dorocha came out.

In the early light of dawn, Marian awoke with a start. She wasn't sure what had woken her. A bad dream perhaps, or a noise in the forest? When she sat up, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Gwaine was supposed to be on watch, but he wasn't in the camp.

"Gwaine?" she called quietly.

There was no answer.

She stood and walked around the clearing, trying to call out without waking the others. "Gwaine? Where are you?"

Walking deeper into the woods, she quickly turned when the leaves of a tree rustled in the morning breeze, and a twig snapped, echoing across the forest. "Is that you?"

Marian's throat tightened when there was still no answer.

"Did you go after a dorocha, Gwaine?"

Nothing.

Marian's heart beat faster, and her breath was quick and shallow. Fear's icy hand grabbed at her spine, and she shivered. "Oh god, did you go and get yourself killed? Gwaine? Gwaine!"

Panicking, she picked up her pace and rushed through the forest, calling for the knight, hoping, praying that he was alright. "Gwaine!"

Again, there was no answer.

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm right here, love."

She ran into him as he came out from behind a tree. He grabbed her arms as she bounced back and steadied her.

"Sorry, call of nature."

He was safe. Alive.

"Goddammit, Gwaine!" she shouted as she threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. "You big, fucking asshole! Don't do that to me! You had me worried half to death!"

He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, returning her embrace. "Your words are cross, beautiful, but your arms are saying otherwise. Be careful. You might just confuse a man."

She backed away and scowled. "You were supposed to be on watch."

"The sun was up. Like I said, call of nature," he shrugged as he passed her to go back to the camp.

"I thought…"

Gwaine turned and waited for her to catch up. "You thought those ghosts got to me, didn't you?"

Marian nodded.

"You should have more faith, sweetheart. It'll take more than that to kill me."

Marian rolled her eyes at him as they walked back into the clearing.

"This isn't the time for a morning snog, you know," Arthur said when they returned. "We've got to get going."

"Morning snog?" Marian shouted.

"Never kiss and tell, darling," Gwaine said as he winked, smirking uncontrollably.

He passed Marian—her mouth agape in disbelief—and went to fetch the horses. Already awake and gathering their things, the others chuckled at her.

"Wha—? Gwaine! Get back here, you… you…"

"Me what?" he asked, leading her horse to her.

"You goblin!"

"Goblin, eh?" he chuckled, handing her the reins. "Does that mean I have the power to compel you to expose yourself to a whole patrol of knights?"

"I—you—"

"Lucky me."

"Gwaine…" Lancelot warned.

"She what?" Percival asked.

"Oh, I heard about this," Elyan said. "There was a goblin loose in the castle and—"

"It was hilarious!" Leon laughed. All traces of mirth vanished as Marian shot him a look that could kill. "On second thought, nothing. Nothing was funny."

"I can't believe you," Marian hissed at Gwaine as she mounted her horse and took off.

Gwaine jumped into his saddle and rode after her. "Come, Marian, it was only a joke!"

"Think he'll make it through this alive?" Leon asked.

"One way or another, they're going to kill each other," Percival said.

Lancelot climbed into his saddle. "My money's on Marian."

"At least then we could get some peace and quiet," Arthur said.

Elyan laughed as he kicked his horse into motion. "We'd better go catch up before she clobbers him over the head. I don't fancy carrying the big lump the rest of the way."

As they rode off to catch up with Marian and Gwaine, Arthur noticed that Merlin was unusually quiet. He had figured out that Merlin knew what he was planning, but he didn't realize that Merlin meant to stop him too.

"You can't stay angry with me forever, beautiful."

"You wanna bet?"

"It was only a friendly jest."

"Oh, really? I tell you what, Gwaine. The next time you do something embarrassing that's completely out of your control, I'll be sure to mention it to your friends so they can laugh at you."

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Obviously."

"Quiet," Arthur ordered as he held up his hand to stop the horses.

They'd come across a clearing outside a small village, littered with dead, frozen bodies.

"I've never seen such devastation," Leon said, looking around.

Lancelot shook his head. "Villagers and farmers. Why would anyone do this?"

Marian just stared, ready to be sick at the sight of it. Nothing else mattered. Quarrels and teasing were nothing compared to the destruction of the countryside. Morgana was truly evil.

She was knocked from her thoughts when Gwaine grabbed her hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"It'll be alright, love. We'll stop this madness."

Despite knowing it was untrue, Marian responded with a slight smile and a nod, appreciating his reassurance.

Gwaine sighed in relief—their friendship seemingly repaired—and let go of Marian's hand.

"We need to reach Daobeth by nightfall," Arthur said, kicking his horse and continuing on.

They picked up the pace and rode toward the ruined fortress of Daobeth, praying they made it in time. They arrived and dismounted at dusk. Marian grabbed her leather bag while Merlin dug into his saddlebag to pull out his supplies. Though the horses needed watering, they had to get a fire going first so they could ward off the dorocha.

"Bring me your torches," Merlin said as he retrieved his steel and flint from the saddlebag.

Once the torches were lit, Arthur ordered them to find wood for the fire.

"Pair off. Find any wood you can. Get the fires burning."

Marian stepped forward to follow Merlin, but a hand grasped her arm. Not about to let Marian out of his sight, Gwaine pulled her along in the opposite direction. "You're with me, beautiful."

"But Merlin—"

"Has Lancelot with him. He'll be fine."

She followed Gwaine around the ruins, picking up as much wood as she could while he stood watch with a torch in one hand and an armload of wood in the other. With her arms almost full, Marian thought she heard something. She leapt to her feet—a ball of frayed nerves—and looked around them. Satisfied that nothing was there, she continued to gather more wood.

"Are you alright?" Gwaine asked.

"Scared half to death. You?"

"Same."

When the shriek of the dorocha sounded above, she almost dropped her pile of firewood.

He threw the stack he was carrying to the ground and grasped the sleeve of her tunic, pulling her close. As the screams grew nearer, the pair ran back to where they'd come from, hoping to meet up with the others.

He climbed through a large hole in the wall and held his hand out to help Marian follow. Though it was awkward with her arms full, she managed to sit on the wall and swing her legs through the hole. Once she was through, he put his hand on her back, urging her to run at a faster pace than she was used to.

Marian tripped over her foot, falling flat on her face in the dirt, chunks of wood flying out in front of her. "Shit!" she yelled in pain.

"Up! Up!" Gwaine held onto her waist and lifted her to her feet, spotting a light up ahead. "Faster, Marian! Go faster!" he shouted as they ran toward the firelight.

"I'm trying!"

Meeting up with Arthur and Leon, Gwaine shoved her behind him just as Elyan and Percival joined. They stood in a circle—Marian tucked securely in the center—and swung their torches at the dorocha as they swept down to attack, shrieking like banshees.

"Let's go!" Arthur yelled over the dorocha.

"We haven't got enough!" Percival shouted, holding only a few pieces of wood.

"It'll have to do!"

Arthur waved his torch, dissolving a dorocha, and sprinted back to the meeting place. Gwaine grabbed Marian's arm and pulled her along.

"Let go," she said, her voice full of pain.

"Not on your life."

"Gwaine, you're hurting my arm."

Gwaine looked back for a brief moment, and seeing her wince, he let go.

Once everyone had arrived, Merlin lit a bonfire in the middle of the ruined courtyard. Percival dropped his stack of firewood next to the bonfire and turned to Arthur. "It won't get us through the night."

"It will keep the area safe for a while."

Everyone stood around the flames, keeping watch for dorocha, hoping they'd make it through the night. Though each was as terrified as the next, none showed it.

When it seemed that things had settled down, Gwaine leaned over close to Marian and gently held her arm up to see. "Did your arm get injured in the fall?"

"I think so. It twinges like a motherfucker."

He pulled her sleeve up and examined her. Bruises had already begun to form. "Shame I don't have any King's Wart with me."

"That's why I brought this," Marian said, digging into the bag strapped across her and pulling out a small, familiar jar.

"You still have it," Gwaine said, grinning as he handed the torch to her. He took off his gloves and grabbed the container from her, opening it. Digging his finger in, he scooped out a small glob of salve and slathered it over Marian's bruises. "Better?"

"Uh-huh," she said, nodding and staring at him wide-eyed. Her skin warmed at his soft touch, and the firelight flickered over his face, accentuating all the features she found most attractive. She bit her lip as her eyes traveled to his lips and back.

Gwaine grinned. "Marian?"

"Hmm?"

"Wish you'd stayed behind now?"

"What?" she asked, waking from her stupor.

"Do you wish you'd stayed with Gaius?"

"Ask me that in the morning." When the wind picked up, Marian shivered, her teeth lightly chattering. "I do wish I had worn more layers, though. It's freezing out here."

He blew hot air into his hands and rubbed them together, the friction warming his palms. Placing his hands on her cheeks, he smiled fondly at her. "I know it's not much, but does it help?"

"It does," she replied. "Thank—" Marian's eyes grew wide.

"Marian?"

"Get down!" she shouted, pushing Gwaine to the ground, leaping to dissolve an attacking dorocha. "Not tonight, asshole!"

The others jumped at the commotion, startled by the sudden attack.

Once the danger was gone, Gwaine stood and brushed the dirt from his trousers. "You just saved my life," he said, as he smiled.

"I'm not useless, you know."

"Dame Marian, the fairest and the noblest Knight of Camelot," he said, bowing to her with a flourish.

"Let's not get distracted," Arthur said, smiling softly at the pair of them.

As the night wore on and the fire dimmed, Gwaine grabbed the last piece of wood and threw it into the flames. "The last one. Maybe we should draw lots, see who gets some more."

"I'll go," Arthur said.

Lancelot stepped forward. "You'll need help."

Merlin immediately sprung up and walked toward Arthur. "I'll go with him."

Arthur raised his eyebrow at Merlin and barked out a small laugh. "Are you sure you're the right person?"

"Well, since when have you known how to collect firewood?"

Arthur smiled at the ribbing and nodded for Merlin to follow.

As they left to collect more wood, Merlin turned and gave Marian a questioning look.

Will you be okay?

Marian nodded. Being surrounded by Camelot's finest, how could she not feel safe?

Gwaine watched her for a long moment. Misreading Merlin and Marian's silent exchange, his heart ached. Regardless of any desire she might feel toward him, he was sure that her heart already belonged to Merlin.

Marian and the knights paced close to the bonfire as the minutes wore on. The torches began to burn out, leaving only one between them.

Lancelot frowned. "They should've been back by now."

"Someone needs to go and look for them," Elyan said.

"We've only got one torch between us," Percival said.

Lancelot picked up the torch. "Then, we all go."

Dorocha swooped down one after the other as they searched the ruins for Merlin and Arthur. With Lancelot holding the only torch, he kept busy surrounding the group and waving off the attack.

Suddenly, they heard Arthur shout. "Merlin, no!"

Running toward the voice, Lancelot kicked in the door in front of them and rushed in. He waved the torch, dissolving the dorocha, and came to an abrupt halt when he saw Merlin lying on the far side of the room.

"Oh god, Merlin!" Marian cried out as she pushed past the knights to hurry over to him. She knelt beside him, turning him over. His skin was freezing, and ice crystals covered his face. "No!"

"What happened?" Lancelot asked as he handed the torch to Percival.

Still in shock, Arthur couldn't answer. Merlin had sacrificed himself to protect him. He'd pushed Arthur back and ran straight into the dorocha's path, knowing it would kill him. Arthur didn't want to believe it. Couldn't believe it. His servant, his friend, was truly gone. He'd wasted so much time berating Merlin that he'd forgotten to tell him just how much his loyalty and friendship meant to him. Arthur didn't know how he could go on without Merlin.

Shaking, Marian touched Merlin's neck, feeling for a pulse. "He's alive."

Arthur sighed in relief. "Let's get him out of here."

Marian stood and moved out of the way as Percival lifted Merlin and carried him back outside. Gwaine walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms, comforting her.

The sun had just risen as they made it to the courtyard. Percival set Merlin down and propped him up against a rock. When Marian sat down beside Merlin, she tucked a blanket around him and wrapped her arm over his shoulder. With his head resting on her, Merlin opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"Marian, you have to keep Arthur safe," he whispered in a soft, scratchy voice. "Please."

"I'll look after Arthur. I promise. But you have to live, Merlin. You must stay strong. You have to live."

Percival put his hand on her shoulder in comfort. "He'll be alright, Marian."

Merlin had touched all their lives, been a friend and confidant. He was kind and generous, asking nothing in return. He'd worked his way into all their hearts.

Arthur looked on in agony. He had a tough choice to make. Save Merlin or save Camelot. No matter what he decided, his heart would break. He struggled between his duty as a prince and his duty as a friend. "Marian, is this anything that you can treat here?" he asked.

She shook her head, fresh tears falling. Arthur wasn't the only one with a tough choice to make. While she believed she could heal Merlin with magic, she realized she shouldn't. If she took on his injury, it might very well kill her. And though she would willingly give up her life for Merlin, she knew he would then sacrifice himself to save Arthur. It would all be for nothing. Camelot still needed Merlin, not her. It was his story, his destiny, that mattered. All she could do was hope that Merlin's magic would somehow heal him. It was a risk she'd have to take.

"We have to get him back to Gaius," Arthur said.

"And abandon the quest?" Leon asked, shocked that Arthur would give up so easily.

"He saved my life. I won't let him die."

"Sire, if we don't get to the Isle of the Blessed, hundreds more will perish."

"Let me take him," Lancelot said.

Arthur shook his head. "Carrying a wounded man alone, it will take you two or three days to reach Camelot."

"Not if I go through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. You cannot give up on the quest."

"Sire, he's right," Leon said.

Arthur nodded reluctantly. It seemed that the choice he didn't want to make had been made for him. His knights did what the prince couldn't do. The one thing he wasn't brave enough to do. They chose to save the kingdom, holding out hope that Merlin would survive long enough to get back to Gaius.

Gwaine led Merlin's horse over to them while Percival picked up their friend to settle him into the saddle.

As Arthur spoke in hushed tones to Merlin, tying him to the horse so he wouldn't fall off, Marian walked around to the other side, sniffling through tears, checking that the saddle was strapped on tight.

"Marian," Gwaine called softly to her.

She refused to look at him. Instead, she rechecked the saddle strap, trying to compose herself.

"Marian." Laying his hand on her shoulder, he slowly turned her to face him, and, pulling her to his chest, he held her as she wept.

"We need to leave," Lancelot said as he mounted his horse.

Afraid she'd never see Merlin again, Marian left Gwaine's embrace and rushed over to him. "If you die, I'll never forgive you," she said through her tears.

Merlin opened his eyes and tried to smile. "I know," he whispered.

Lancelot led Merlin's horse, and the pair rode off toward Camelot, leaving everyone behind.

Gwaine blew out a resigned breath as he watched Marian. His heart broke when he realized she was indeed in love with Merlin. He'd hoped to capture her heart, but knowing that it could never be, he resolved to back away and let love take its course. Merlin was a good man, and if Gwaine could have chosen anyone other than himself for her, it would be a good man.

He and the other knights went back to their horses, leaving Marian and Arthur to watch as Lancelot led Merlin away.

After they disappeared down the path, Arthur turned to leave and saw Marian behind him, tears running down her face. He laid his hand on her shoulder in comfort as he passed, trying to keep his composure.

A moment later, Marian wiped the tears from her face and followed.

Deciding to halt for the night, Arthur dismounted and walked around the gully. "We'll camp here tonight," he said.

As they were settling the horses in, Gwaine stopped by a tree and smiled back at Marian. "Can you hear that?"

"Bees?" Leon asked.

"Food." He walked up to the tree and removed his glove, intending to reach into the hive and pull out a delicious honeycomb. His stomach growled at the thought of it.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Leon asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"We're riding to our death, anyway."

Marian snuck up behind Gwaine, and just as his hand neared the tree, she grabbed his arm, pulling him back with more strength than he thought she was capable of. She leaned forward, her mouth close to his ear. "Gwaine, I'm allergic to bees," she said softly… dangerously. "I swear to god if you get me stung, I will come back and haunt you from tavern to tavern until the end of time."

He swallowed hard as she let go and walked away. He couldn't help the smirk spreading across his face. She was lovely when she threatened him.

"Marian, go ahead and start supper," Arthur said after they had set up the camp.

"Why me?"

"Because you're a woman. You know how to cook," he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Say what? You are a woman, aren't you?"

"Arthur, I may be a woman, but I'm a terrible cook."

"How is that even possible? Did your mother not—"

"I'll do it," Gwaine cut in before Arthur could get himself in more trouble.

Marian silently mouthed a thank you at him.

"You?" Arthur asked, skeptical of Gwaine's culinary ability.

"You know how to cook?" Leon asked.

Gwaine frowned. "Yes, I know how. When you spend years on your own, you pick up a few things."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know, Gwaine…"

"Do you want to eat or not?"

"Fine, be my guest," Arthur said, moving away from the fire.

"You know how to cook?" Gwaine mumbled angrily as he went to the food bag on Arthur's horse. When he came back, he thrust a bow and quiver at Leon. "Go fetch a rabbit."

"But—" Leon snapped his mouth shut at Gwaine's severe look and ventured back into the forest to hunt.

"I don't know, Gwaine," Gwaine continued to mumble, mimicking Arthur as he sat to cut up a few potatoes. "Damn princes."

An hour later, they sat around the fire while Gwaine dished out the rabbit stew.

"I stand corrected, Gwaine," Arthur said, his mouth full of his supper. "This is surprisingly good."

Everyone took turns keeping watch throughout the night. When Gwaine's shift ended, he walked over to Marian to wake her up for her turn. He handed her the torch when she stood, but didn't go to his bedroll to sleep. Instead, he followed her to the edge of the camp.

"You really don't need to stay up," Marian said as he stood beside her.

"I know."

"Well, thanks for the company, anyway."

He cleared his throat and kicked a rock at his feet.

"Something on your mind?" Marian asked, her head tilted in curiosity.

He regarded her for a brief moment before looking back into the darkness. "Just wondering if you're alright?" He shot a glance her way and back. "You know, about Merlin."

She wasn't sure if she was alright. Her stomach dropped every time she thought about Merlin, scared that he wouldn't make it. She tried to hide her concern, putting on a brave face, but she supposed he could see right through her. "Oh," she sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"It is," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. He looked at the ground for a long moment and then kicked another rock. "You love him, don't you?" he asked, still not willing to look her way.

"Of course."

Gwaine lifted his head and looked forward into the darkness. "Of course," he repeated flatly, his heart breaking.

"Don't you?" she asked, attempting to concentrate on her watch duty.

He laughed bitterly. "Well, I have nothing against it, but Merlin isn't exactly my type, Marian. I prefer a more feminine and voluptuous figure in my lovers."

That got her attention. She turned to face he and arched an eyebrow at him. "Lovers? What are you on about?"

"You and Merlin. What are you talking about?" he asked, confused.

Marian burst into laughter but quickly recovered. She glanced behind her to make sure she hadn't woken anyone.

"God, Gwaine," she said quietly. "You can be so dense sometimes."

He was unamused.

"I love Merlin like a brother. Jesus! I don't fancy him or anything. He reminds me of my little brother."

"Brother?"

"Yes, brother. Merlin reminds me of Jamie," she said while grinning at his adorable confusion.

He let out a breath of relief and beamed at her. So there was a chance for him yet.

She went quiet, the memories flooding back. She'd held in the pain of losing her brother for far too long. Knowing Gwaine would listen, she couldn't help but finally let out her grief.

"Jamie… died when we were young," she said, clearing her throat at the painful memory.

His smile dropped, and he took her hand, holding it tight. "I'm sorry. Truly."

"It's alright. Jamie was fun. He was so sweet and upbeat. He'd do anything for anyone, too. We had a lot of fun, me and Jamie. And Merlin makes me think of what Jamie might've been had he…"

Gwaine kept silent, waiting for her to finish.

"He was hit by a car—a carriage. It was my birthday. Our parents had arranged a small party, mostly with other grown-ups, so Jamie and I went outside on our own to play. We were chasing each other, and I ran out into the road. He followed. Neither of us saw it coming."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve. He was ten. I was supposed to look out for him, and I didn't."

"Your birthday?"

Marian nodded but didn't look at him.

"That's why you don't want to be alone on your birthday. You still mourn your brother."

"I do. Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all, beautiful. It shows the power of your love."

"I've been thinking about him a lot lately, what with the veil torn and all. I can't help but think they might be watching over me. Jamie and my Grandma Rosie."

"I'm sure they are, love. You're worth protecting," Gwaine said as he swiped at a tear on her cheek.

She rested her head on his shoulder, finding comfort in him, and sighed. "Thank you for listening, Gwaine."

He squeezed her hand and took the torch from her.

They stayed like that until the sun came up.

The sun was setting by the time they reached the tunnels of Andor.

"We'll need to leave the horses behind and continue on foot," Arthur said, dismounting. "Only take what we need for a few days. Leave the rest."

Marian grabbed her leather bag and slung it across her body. Digging through the food bag, she filled her bag with as much food as she could fit.

Arthur started down the hill to the tunnel. "By dawn, we'll be on the other side of the mountains."

"You can't be serious," Gwaine said. "These tunnels are crawling with wilddeoren."

"These tunnels will take days off our journey."

"If we make it out alive."

"If? What do you mean if?" Marian shouted. Not paying attention to where she was going, she stumbled over a root and almost tumbled down the incline.

Leon darted over to her and caught her by the arm, helping her balance. "Careful," he said.

"Watch where you're going, love," Gwaine said as he caught up with Marian. "We've got a long way to go yet."

"I am trying, you know," she replied, her foot slipping.

"I know you are." he grabbed her hand and helped her down the rest of the way.

Once they went to the tunnel entrance, Arthur turned around and pointed to the bushes growing just inside the mouth of the cave. "We'll cover ourselves in gaia berries."

"Sounds great," Gwaine huffed.

"It's your choice, Gwaine. Wilddeoren or dorocha."

"I know which I'd rather go for," Elyan said as he passed Gwaine.

"Me too," Leon agreed, clapping Gwaine on the back as he went by.

Percival grimaced as he followed, not looking forward to covering himself in the berries' pungent juice.

Marian stood next to Gwaine, eyeing the tunnels with unease. "I guess we take our chances," she said before shrugging and following the others.

Gwaine took a few steps forward but stopped when he heard shrieks in the distance. After looking around at the dark sky, he finally convinced himself that they were just his imagination, and he turned back to the tunnel.

The dorocha stayed quiet until it was almost upon him. His eyes widened when he finally heard it, and he turned to face the ghost. With no torch, he knew that his time was up. He wasn't ready to die, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

In the split-second he had to prepare himself for the inevitable, he was tackled to the ground, landing on his back. Surprised, he smiled up at Percival, relieved that he'd been saved.

"Never knew you cared," Gwaine chuckled.

Percival rolled his eyes and then moved off of him.

Marian rushed back to them with a torch and dissolved the circling dorocha. Passing the flame to Percival, she held out her hands to the knights and helped them up off the ground.

"Quick!" Arthur called from just outside of the tunnel's entrance. "Make sure to crush the berries and make a paste. Just rub it anywhere your skin is exposed," he said as he handed out handfuls of them.

Marian looked down at her tunic and frowned. The lower cut neckline meant she had even more skin to slather with the stinky goop.

"Oh, that's just not fair," she said, picking more berries.

Once they were all covered, they headed further into the dark tunnels.

"Remind me again why we're wearing this disgusting paste?" Percival asked, gagging at the smell.

"Wilddeoren are completely blind. They rely totally on their sense of smell. Gaia berries will mask our scent," Arthur said.

Gwaine looked around at the dark cave walls, trying to keep calm. "What are the chances of us getting through here without seeing a wilddeoren?"

"None."

Gwaine tripped over a human skull that was moldy and cracked with age. As a chill ran down his spine, he sidestepped the rest of the skeleton and moved to the front. On his way forward, he grabbed Marian's hand to pull her with him.

"Gwaine, let go."

"No can do, sweetheart. I want you safe in the middle."

"I'm not some delicate flower. I can—"

"Quiet," Arthur hissed, stopping abruptly as a loud squeal echoed through the tunnel. Afraid, they dropped their torches and hurried to a large rock to hide.

Gwaine settled at the end of the rock, having shoved Marian between Arthur and Elyan.

The heavy footsteps of the wilddeoren came closer to their hiding place. The beast grunted as it tried to smell its prey.

"Keep still. Don't even breathe," Arthur whispered.

Once the footsteps faded away, they let out a collective sigh of relief. Grinning, Gwaine turned to them, thinking that maybe they would make it after all, but his smile faded when he saw the wide, frightened eyes of his companions.

Before he could react, a large rat-like creature with long front teeth pushed him back, pinning him to the rock with a hairy paw on his chest. Its slimy nose rubbed his face, leaving trails of thick mucus and saliva as it sniffed the gaia berry paste.

Marian shook in fear and her eyes froze on the monster. She'd never seen anything like it, even in her wildest, scariest dreams. She held her breath, willing the thing to leave.

Tired of being accosted by the beast, Gwaine slowly raised his sword and then stabbed it through the gut. The wilddeoren screeched out in pain before it fell to the ground, dead.

"You fool," Arthur said.

"It's dead."

"That one is, yes. They hunt in packs."

Gwaine's eyes grew wide with fear, having made things much, much worse. Two more loud squeals rang out in the tunnel, and the sound of large shuffling feet neared.

"Run!" Elyan cried as he jumped up, pulling on Marian's hand to help her up.

Annoyed but too scared to do anything about it, she let the knights pull and push her out of harm's way as they ran through the tunnels, evading the angry beasts.

The sun had just risen when they finally made it out. Stopping to wash the berries off in a nearby stream, Marian sat on the bank, relieved that they'd all emerged from danger unscathed. She watched Gwaine wash his face and neck, trying to be irritated with him. He'd recklessly acted before thinking about the consequences. But try as she might, she just couldn't get angry. She'd probably have done the same if that thing had pinned her.

When she leaned over to wash her face, gaia berries slipped down her cleavage and into her corset."Goddammit."

"Need help?" Gwaine asked her, grinning.

Marian rolled her eyes at him and splashed water on her face, rubbing the nasty muck from her skin.

Embarrassed about causing more trouble and tired from lack of sleep, Gwaine sighed and pulled a large leaf from a tree. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "You can wipe off with that."

"Thanks. Just… turn around or something."

When Gwaine faced away from her, she looked at the others to make sure they couldn't see her either. She held the leaf and delved into her corset, scooping out goo and sloshing it to the ground.

"Let's keep going," Arthur said to the others. "We still have a ways to go."

As Gwaine offered Marian his hand, his stomach growled, protesting the torture it had endured by being denied food for hours. When she stood, she opened her bag and pulled out a small, bruised apple.

"Take this," she said, handing it to him. "I know you're hungry. Apples are your favorite, right?"

Gwaine smiled and nodded at her, surprised that she knew. He took the apple from her and bit into it, pleased that she cared.

She returned his smile and then went up to the others, offering them small items of food. Reaching in to grab something for herself, she came up empty, having given everything she'd brought with her away. "Damn," she muttered.

Gwaine walked up beside her and handed her the rest of his apple, having only eaten less than half. "Eat up, beautiful."

Marian grinned at him as she took a bite.

Despite walking all day, they felt like their journey to the Isle of the Blessed had made little progress. With a couple of days to go, Arthur decided they should stop and rest for the night. The prince took the first watch, though he would insist on taking them all. The knights sat around the fire, sharpening their swords and trading tales of feats of bravery that would've made Hercules look like a wimp.

Marian grinned and shook her head as they recounted the tall tales. She leaned back against a log and pulled her legs up close to her body, staying close to the fire. She wondered how Merlin was faring. Of course, she trusted Lancelot would take good care of him—the knight was the most loyal and noble of all the knights, after all—but couldn't shake the bad feeling she had.

As a sense of unease fell over her, Marian rested her head on her knees, watching the others. Hoping that no other sacrifice would have to be made, she would willingly give her life if it meant the kingdom—and the knights—were safe.

Merlin wasn't the only one who'd found a family in the knights. To her, they were her brothers, and she loved them all, each finding a special place in her heart.

Percival was a big softie. Though he looked menacing when he was in battle, he was kind and caring and ever so gentle. She smiled when she remembered his first few months in Camelot. He'd go down to the lower town every day after training to walk around the market and sometimes even play with the children. He'd been a commoner before being knighted, and he stayed true to his roots.

Elyan was feisty and opinionated, though friendly and generous as well. She found he was easy to talk to and was a lot like Gwen, which made it even easier for her to love him. Elyan continued his blacksmithing until they could find another smith, promising to assist whenever necessary. And he kept that promise. He'd helped the blacksmith to shoe the royal horses before all the dorocha business.

Raised to be a knight, Leon exhibited loyalty and nobility. He valued duty and honor, which afforded him a well-earned place as Arthur's second in command of the Knights of Camelot. He wasn't all business, though. Leon often went down to the tavern with Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival to gamble and make merry. He cared for Camelot and its people so much that he'd often been in a position to give his life to ensure their safety, though, thankfully, he survived.

It had taken Marian more time to warm up to Arthur. As the heir to the throne, he was intimidating and a little arrogant at times. And other times, the prince was caring, often humbled by Gwen's sharp tongue. Arthur would never admit to his soft heart, but it was apparent to anyone who cared to look. Marian knew he would make a great king, not just because history said so. She knew it because she knew Arthur.

The only problem she had was with Gwaine. Though a bit of a scoundrel, he was fair and kind to those who deserved it. He had a short temper, but he'd admit when he was in the wrong and attempt to make amends. As the biggest prankster of the knights, he had an unfailing sense of humor, which he'd used to cheer up anyone who was nearby. He had a love of life that was infectious.

But try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to think of him as a brother. Instead, she felt drawn to him, fancied him, lusted for him. She cared for him more than she thought she should. She knew she needed to play it safe and not fall for him, but she couldn't help herself. She was unsure of the precise moment it had happened, but it had happened. Marian adored Gwaine. Nimueh said she couldn't give in to her love, but she said nothing about adoration or fondness.

Not that any of it mattered now. Marian closed her eyes as tears threatened to fall. Prepared to give her life for them, she would sacrifice herself to close the veil so that history could become history. So that Arthur and Merlin could live. So that there could be the Knights of the Round Table.

She thought about just throwing her fears out and giving in to her desire. She wanted to go up to Gwaine and kiss him senseless. Perhaps even sneak off into the bushes and have her way with him. That would be alright, wouldn't it? Nimueh said nothing about lust, either. But would she be able to give in to her lust without giving in to love?

The rational side of her mind reminded her that she wasn't coming back from the quest. She couldn't do that to Gwaine, couldn't hurt him. It was precisely why she'd tried her hardest not to fall for anyone in Camelot. The threat of being sent back to her own time made her keep her affection for the knight a secret, but having him watch her die would be so much worse.

Suddenly, the shrieks of the dorocha echoed in the distance. Frightened out of her mind, Marian leapt up and moved closer to the others. Gwaine held her hand, giving it a small squeeze. He made her feel safe when the monsters came out to play and gave her the courage to confront danger. Together, Gwaine and Marian could face the world.

Unable to sleep, they all stood vigil around the fire for the rest of the night.

They reached an abandoned fortress after another day of walking toward the Isle of the Blessed. Mercifully, the ruins had plenty of wood lying about.

After gathering enough firewood, they set up a camp area with two large, dry logs and a bonfire in the middle to ward off the dorocha. There was no more food left, so they sat, keeping watch and talking to keep their mind off their hunger.

Gwaine's feet had been killing him all day—the stiffness of his leather boots and the sweat that soaked into his socks were unbearable. When he removed his boots and socks, Elyan and Leon glared at him.

"Has something died?" Elyan asked, scrunching his nose and waving his hand in front of his face.

Gwaine rolled his eyes and laid his wet sock out beside the fire to dry. "Why am I always the butt?"

Leon pinched his nose and moved across the camp with Elyan. "Can't think," he said, settling next to Percival and Marian.

Arthur shook his head as he was squeezed in the middle.

"They aren't wrong, you know. Your feet do stink," Marian said, laughing.

Gwaine looked up at her and narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure yours are no better."

"Well, we aren't going to find out, are we?"

"Pick on Percival."

"Why me?" Percival asked.

"He washes," Elyan said.

Leon pointed to the fire. "And he doesn't set fire to his socks."

"Ah! No!" Gwaine cried out as he pulled them from the fire and beat them on the ground to put the flame out.

Arthur's ears perked up at a slight ruffling behind them. "Quiet!"

Alarmed by Arthur's sudden outburst, they all stood, drawing their swords. Marian inched her way behind the knights, looking around for a weapon, a stick, or anything she could find. Why hadn't she thought to bring a sword?

They held their breath as a shadowed figure walked through the doorway and into the light.

Lancelot.

Though relieved to see him, Marian was once again on edge when she didn't see Merlin behind the knight.

"Lancelot? How's Merlin?" Arthur asked.

"Bad news."

Marian gasped as she grabbed Gwaine's arm to steady herself for what was to come.

"He's still alive," Lancelot said with a wide grin.

He stood aside, and Merlin walked in from the shadows, grinning like an idiot.

"Merlin!" Marian cried, pushing past the knights, and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"I thought you were…" Marian trailed off.

"I almost was. I'll tell you about it later."

Merlin smiled as his friends greeted him, hugging Gwaine and Elyan and grasping Leon and Percival's arms.

Arthur came up beside Merlin and clapped his shoulder. "Good to see you, Merlin."

"Yeah. It's good to see you, too." Merlin was so touched by the greeting his friends gave him that he almost forgot the best part of their reunion. "Oh, we brought food. If you're hungry."

"Did someone say food?" Gwaine asked as he pulled his boots on.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, they laid down to sleep, confident that the flames of the bonfire would keep the dorocha at bay. Elyan, Leon, Percival, and Lancelot took their places propped up against one log while Gwaine lay down in front of the flames, his head resting against a rock. Unable to sleep, Arthur and Merlin sat propped up against the other log. Curled up next to Merlin and feigning sleep, Marian listened as he tried to comfort Arthur.

"It's going to be fine. Everything will be alright," Merlin said.

"I'm just tired. We all are."

"Yeah, but everyone else is asleep, Arthur. Tomorrow—"

"Your Marian is as brave as any of them, you know. I've never known a woman like her, Merlin."

"She's not my Marian. She's her own Marian."

"Or Gwaine's Marian, really," Arthur said. "She's got a lot of courage. Did you know she didn't complain when it was her turn to stand watch? And she didn't even flinch when the dorocha attacked Gwaine. Fearless. I can see why he fancies her."

Merlin chuckled. "He is pretty obvious about it."

"Does she know?"

"She'd have to be blind not to see it." Merlin leaned in closer to Arthur. "Quit changing the subject. About tomorrow…"

"Merlin…"

"You don't have to sacrifice yourself."

Arthur nodded. "To save my people."

"I will take your place."

Arthur shook his head. "Merlin…"

"What is the life of a servant compared to that of a prince?"

"Well, a good servant's hard to come by."

"I'm not that good."

Arthur laughed. "True," he said as he looked at Merlin, more severe than he'd ever been. "One thing, though. Look after Guinevere. I want her to be happy in her life. She deserves that."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure."

Marian's heart broke at Merlin's words. Arthur just didn't understand that any of them would gladly give up their lives for Camelot. For him.

The sky was overcast when they finally made it to the edge of the Seas of Meredor. In the middle of the water sat the Isle of the Blessed, its massive ruins dark and gloomy.

Just off a short pier was a large canoe and a man to ferry them across. He didn't speak, only stared at them as if he could see into their souls. The man held his hand out to Arthur for payment. The prince shuddered but regained his senses as he reached into the small purse on his belt. After he paid the ferryman, the knights climbed into the canoe's front.

Merlin helped Marian into the back, sitting next to her just as the ferryman pushed off from the pier. The water was black and still, the only sound coming from the back of the boat as the ferryman sculled across the sea. The ripples from the oar vanished with each stroke, leaving the water smooth as ice.

A fog suddenly rolled in, obscuring their path, and Merlin's breath caught and his skin prickled. The air was full of strong, ancient magic. He looked over at Marian to see if she'd felt it, too. Merlin didn't even need to ask. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her breath was quick and shallow. She shivered as they pulled up to the stone harbor.

"It'll be alright," he whispered. "I promise."

"It'd better be. I don't want any of you to die, Merlin."

Once they stepped off the boat and onto the island, Marian pulled Gwaine aside. She wanted—no, needed to say goodbye, regardless of how much it would break their hearts.

"I know you're scared, beautiful, but everything will work out," he said, mistaking her look of anguish for fear.

"No, Gwaine. I…" she trailed off, trying to find the courage to say how she felt.

He held her hand, his thumb caressing her skin, encouraging her to go on.

"I just wanted to thank you," she said, placing her fingers on his lips when he tried to speak. "For not giving up on me. Our friendship means more to me than you'll ever know. I just wanted you to know in case…"

"I promise you, love, that you'll be back in Camelot before you know it, safe and sound."

"This quest is dangerous," she said, her heart breaking at his faith that she would live. "No matter what happens, swear to me you'll stay in Camelot. You'll not give up your knighthood. You'll live a full and happy life."

"Of course, and if I try to leave, you can knock some sense into me," he grinned. His face fell as she closed her eyes and drew a deep and shuddering breath. "Marian, what's really bothering you? You sound like you're going to die, sweetheart," he asked, frowning at her words.

As she opened her mouth to answer, loud screeches from above echoed throughout the ruins. Gwaine pulled on her hand, and they ran further into the ruins, meeting up with the others.

"What is that?" Leon asked as the knights drew their swords.

"I really hope I'm wrong," Gwaine said just as a winged creature swooped down.

"Wyvern!"

The wyvern was practically untouchable, skillfully dodging the blades. It swooped down again, slicing Percival's arm. "You're right!" he cried as he fell to the ground.

"Percival!" Marian shouted, rushing over to him, narrowly avoiding the wyvern's sharp claws. The cut wasn't as deep as she'd feared, so she hastily wrapped a bandage around Percival's arm.

"Thanks."

Just as she nodded, Percival's eyes widened. The wyvern was making another run at them. He grabbed her and rolled them out of harm's way, narrowly dodging its talons. Percival pushed her back down when he stood, waving his blade at the creature.

Marian looked around, searching frantically for a way to help fight the creature off. When she met Merlin's eye, she silently pleaded for him to find a way to command the dragon.

Merlin nodded and then turned from the others, crouching to keep anyone from hearing him. With his voice low and commanding, he ordered the wyvern to leave in the ancient dragon language. "S'enthend 'apokhorein nun epitello!" When Merlin stood, his eyes glowed with magic. The wyvern screeched furiously but obeyed the dragonlord and fled from the island.

"See? That's how you deal with them," Gwaine whooped, clinking his sword with Lancelot's in celebration.

Merlin looked at Marian and gave her a cocky smile.

Dragonlord indeed, she thought, as she smiled back at him.

"We need to keep moving," Arthur said.

Gwaine ran over to Marian and laid his hand on her arm.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just stay beside me, Marian. Please?" he asked her, wary from their previous conversation.

"I can't stay—" she started, but didn't get to finish as more wyverns swooped down to attack.

"Sire, you must go on! We'll fend them off!" Leon shouted as he, Elyan, and Percival waved their swords, fighting off two more wyverns.

As they walked through the doorway to the altar room, Marian shook with fear, her heart racing out of control. It was time for her to accept her fate. To accept that she'd never see home again. Or Camelot. Or her friends. Or Gwaine. She reminded herself that she was doing it to save them. To protect the kingdom and history. She just had to get by Gwaine first.

When they approached the altar, Gwaine carefully pushed her behind him, obscuring her view. He moved when she inched over to the right, still standing in front of her. She tried going to the left, but again he blocked her path.

Frustrated that she wouldn't stay still, Gwaine grabbed her hand from behind, pulling her up beside him but not letting go. Getting past him was much more difficult than Marian thought.

In a dark, tattered cloak, an older woman stood in front of a massive tear in the sky. Bright blue light silhouetted her figure, cloaking everything but her face, which seemed to glow nearly as bright as the tear. Screams rang out from every direction as dorocha swam through the air and into the tear.

The gatekeeper. The Cailleach.

"It is not often we have visitors," she said, her voice sending shivers down Marian's spine.

"Put an end to this. I demand you heal the tear between the two worlds," Arthur said, his voice full of more bravado than he currently felt.

"It was not I who created this horror. Why should it be I that stops it?"

"Because innocent people are dying!" Merlin cried out.

"Indeed," she said, already weary with their demands. The Cailleach was an all-powerful, magical being. She had no patience for the troubles of mortals. Either they pay the price, or they all will die.

Marian dropped Gwaine's hand and inched away from him, as the gatekeeper turned her gaze toward her.

The Cailleach saw Marian's past and her future. She knew her intentions, and she smirked at the mortal woman's audacity to think that she was in control of her own destiny.

Marian was almost away from Gwaine when the Cailleach started laughing. With no thought for his safety, Gwaine screamed and raised his sword, charging at the Cailleach. She stopped laughing, and her eyes glowed as she threw him backward into Marian.

They were knocked several feet, hitting the ground hard, and the darkness consumed them.

Marian heard echoes of voices that she couldn't place through the throbbing of her head and roaring in her ears.

But your time among men is not yet over, Emrys, even if you want it to be.

She tried to remember where she was and who she was with. The voice had said Emrys, its meaning teetering on the edge of memory, just out of reach.

NO!

Marian's blood ran cold at the grief-stricken scream. She wanted to get up and find whoever it was to comfort them. But she couldn't move. Every joint and muscle in her body ached. How long had she been lying on the hard ground? Hours? Days? Why couldn't she move?

Gwaine, is she alive?

The back of her head ached and throbbed. Warm hands ran through her hair, touching her scalp and moving down her neck to feel her bones.

Marian? Wake up, sweetheart.

She knew that voice—her heart fluttered at the sound of it—but she just couldn't put a face to it.

Marian, please wake up.

The pain in her head was sharp, spreading to her temples and behind her eyes. Her breathing was slow and cumbersome. She almost wished that the cold hand of death would end the pain.

Come on, beautiful. Open your eyes for me.

Instead, she felt the tender touch of the hands cradling her head. She tried to do as the voice asked—she would do anything for that voice. She lifted her heavy lids and looked at the blurry world in front of her.

Gwaine's worried face came into focus, his hands behind her, cushioning her head. Marian watched in confusion as he smiled in relief. "I think she's going to be alright," he said as he helped her to sit up.

"What…" Marian trailed off, blinking a few times and trying to find the strength to speak. "What happened?"

He looked away, avoiding her gaze in shame. "The Cailleach."

"God, I feel like I've been hit by a horse." she rolled her neck and shoulders to get the muscles to relax.

Merlin crouched down beside them both and gave Gwaine a pointed look before checking her eyes and head for concussion. "Follow my finger," he said as he slowly waved his finger in front of her face, watching her eyes move along. "You don't have a concussion, which is surprising since you were hit by a careless knight."

Merlin frowned at Gwaine, furious that he had put himself and Marian in danger.

She shook her head and furrowed her brow. "Wait, what?"

Gwaine sighed. "It was me. I tried to attack and got thrown into you. It's… it's all my fault you were injured. I'm a fool. I'm sorry."

Merlin stood to check on Arthur, lying unconscious just a few feet away.

"But I wasn't injured. You said so your… self…" Marian looked around the altar room for Lancelot. "Where's Lancelot?"

"Gwaine, you need to tell her."

Gwaine moved closer to her and swallowed the lump in his throat as he held her shoulders. "There's more, sweetheart. Lancelot… he…" He couldn't finish. He couldn't say it.

Marian looked up at the altar. The Cailleach and the tear in the veil were gone, and neither she nor Merlin sacrificed themselves to save Arthur. Lancelot had instead.

"No," she whispered, her voice harsh and full of despair. "No, that's not right. It was supposed to be me!"

Gwaine cupped her face in both of his hands, his brow knitted in confusion. "He's gone, Marian," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "He saved us all."

She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wild, filling with tears. "That's not how it's supposed to go. That's what I came here to do! I'm nobody! Lancelot, you, Arthur, Merlin, all of you. You're… you're the important ones. It's your story! I'm not important to the story! I'm not important to Camelot! The Cailleach was supposed to take me!"

He suddenly realized that was why she behaved strangely earlier. She'd made him promise not to give up his knighthood, and now he understood. She'd planned on crossing the veil and wanted to say goodbye. It hurt his heart to see how willing she'd been to give up her own life, how little she valued herself.

"The story isn't finished! Lancelot's story isn't…" Marian broke off, and the tears finally released.

"What story?" Gwaine asked.

"History. Everything! It was never supposed to be Arthur or Merlin or any of you. It was always supposed to be the person who doesn't matter! It was always supposed to be me!"

"Marian," his voice broke as he looked down at the ground in sorrow.

"I don't matter, Gwaine! Don't you understand? I'm not a part of this! I don't matter!"

When Gwaine raised his head again, tears fell from his eyes. He wasn't sure if he could ever make her understand that they all needed her, that he needed her, but he had to try. He wiped the tears falling down her cheeks with his thumbs. "You matter, love. You matter to me."

He gathered her into his arms and held her, afraid she'd disappear if he let go. Marian clung to him, her face buried in his neck, sobbing and mourning the loss of her friend, her brother.

Lancelot was in the legend. He wasn't supposed to die yet. His part in history wasn't finished. There was so much more he could've done, more that he needed to do. And now he was gone. Marian had failed to keep him safe, to keep history intact.

When Merlin brought Arthur back from unconsciousness, he told the prince of Lancelot's sacrifice. Arthur was speechless. For the first time in his life, he couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"He went willingly, Arthur," Merlin said. "He… he saved us… Camelot. He saved Camelot."

"He knew, didn't he? What I was going to do."

Merlin nodded, unable to speak.

"I thought I'd only have to get past you. I didn't realize Lancelot would…" Arthur looked behind him and watched as Gwaine held Marian. "Is she alright?"

Merlin finally found his voice. "She is. She just found out about Lancelot. Apparently, she'd planned on taking both our places."

"What?"

"She said we were all too important to die."

Arthur looked down, humbled by the people he'd brought with him on the quest. He blinked back the tears that tried to form. He wouldn't cry in front of them. As their prince, and someday their king, he refused to show them any weakness. Lancelot's death affected him deeply, but his sorrow and tears would have to wait until he was back in Camelot and alone.

"She's an extraordinary woman, Merlin," Arthur said, standing. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "We must get back to the others and be on our way."

"Arthur?" Merlin called after him. When the prince turned around, he continued. "You were wrong before. With Balinor."

"Wrong?"

"There are some men who are worth your tears."

Marian was silent as they went back to the others. She said nothing when Merlin told them about Lancelot. And as Gwaine held her in the canoe, she sat still, staring ahead. He was so preoccupied with her grief that he stuffed his own deep down inside. He'd mourn later, drowning his sorrow in a few pints.

Gwaine found the quietness on the way back unsettling. Everyone had felt the loss of Lancelot, but he needed them to talk, cry, yell, anything to break the eerie and all too familiar silence that threatened to smother him. Years of it consumed him when he was on his own with no one to talk to, to be friendly with, to love. But for now, he held Marian as they sat on a log by the campfire, his fingers absentmindedly caressing her arm.

After a meager supper, Gwaine, surprised by his lack of appetite, and the others laid down around the fire to sleep. He made sure he was next to Marian, opening his eyes once in a while to check on her. Finally, after an hour of sleeplessness and worry, he slipped off into blissful unconsciousness.

Marian followed Gwaine into the altar room, the light from the torn veil illuminating them in the dark. She shivered as the sounds of the dead echoed around them.

The Cailleach smiled as her eyes followed them as they walked to her. "It is not often we have visitors."

"End this," Gwaine said as he moved in front of Marian.

"It was not I who created this horror. Why should it be I that stops it?"

"People are dying."

Marian finally found her voice. "It's evil, what Morgana did!"

"Indeed."

Marian tried to walk around him, but she was glued to the floor.

"What must we do to close the veil?" he asked as he stepped forward.

"The veil was torn by blood and can only be closed by blood."

He nodded and walked around the altar.

Marian tried to pry her feet from the floor. "Gwaine, no!"

As he got closer to the veil, the Cailleach laughed.

He turned to look at Marian. "Goodbye, beautiful."

Marian's ears were full of the Cailleach's laughter and voices of the dead.

"NO!"

Gwaine walked through the veil… to his death.

Marian startled herself awake, her breath heavy and quick. She blinked a few times, trying to remember where she was as her nightmare faded. Sitting up, she looked around, taking in the sight of her friends fast asleep. Everyone but Lancelot was there.

She sighed, relieved that it had only been a dream, but quickly felt ashamed. While Lancelot was still gone, Gwaine was safe beside her and very much alive. Lancelot deserved to live out his life as much as anyone else, but she couldn't help that she was glad it hadn't been Gwaine going through the tear.

Lying down on her side, she watched as Gwaine slept.

"That's my apple pie," he mumbled.

Marian smiled tenderly and touched his face. Brushing the hair from his brow, she sighed again and caressed his temple. He grabbed her hand, turned onto his side, and held onto her arm, trapping her.

"Marian," he muttered again, before pulling in a breath and loudly snoring as he smacked his lips.

She quietly slipped her arm from underneath the knight and tucked her hands under her face to go back to sleep. She smiled as her eyes closed, her last thought of the sleeping knight next to her.

It took several more days to reach Camelot. It felt like this quest to the Isle of the Blessed had been much longer and much darker than when Marian went with Merlin to confront Nimueh all those years ago. She supposed it was because there was a tear in reality or that the Cailleach was more powerful than Nimueh. Or maybe it was the anticipation of her death that made the journey feel so long.

When they finally arrived, the town folk lined the streets, thanking them as they passed by, not knowing the heavy price they'd paid. The court stood on the palace steps and welcomed their prince home, clapping him and the knights on the back as they climbed to the castle's entrance.

There was to be a feast in their honor, but none of them felt like celebrating. The court protested when Arthur declined the festivities.

"But sire, we have already begun the preparations!" Sir Edgar huffed.

Arthur shook his head, weary from the quest. "There is to be no celebration. We will mourn the loss of Lancelot tonight and pay him honor tomorrow."

"But sire!"

"You heard the man, Edgar," Gwaine said, as he pushed past the nobleman and followed Arthur and Merlin inside.

"I wouldn't expect a rabid cur like you to understand," Edgar sneered.

Gwaine stopped in his tracks. "What did you call me?"

"Men of your bloodline shouldn't sully the good name of Camelot by playing knights."

Gwaine stepped up, only mere inches between the nobleman and himself.

Marian came up beside them. "Lancelot died, Edgar. Have a little compassion."

"It's what the knights are for—fodder. Especially common peasants pretending to be of noble blood. It was just Lancelot, not someone important."

"Say it again, Edgar," Gwaine said, nostrils flaring.

Marian stepped up and pushed between them. While she was in no mood for the nobleman's idiocy and bigotry, she didn't want Gwaine to lose his temper and do something he'd regret. With her back to Gwaine, she leaned close to Edgar, her voice low and threatening. "I'll forget you said that about the knights—you're ignorant and don't know any better. But the next time you insult one of them, Edgar, I won't stand in their way. Understand?"

Edgar narrowed his eyes. "Wherever a mongrel goes, his bitch follows." He was on the ground with a bloody nose before Gwaine could react.

Marian moved toward the door, shaking her bruised hand.

"Did you see that?" Edgar yelled. "Did you see that? She hit me!"

"Didn't see a thing," Leon said as he and Elyan passed. "Did you Elyan?"

"Not a thing."

"You should be more careful and mind where you're going," Percival laughed, following Leon inside.

Gwaine put his arm around Marian and walked to the door. "Should probably see Gaius about that, Edgar. Your nose is swelling," he said, pointing at the man's face.

Gwaine ushered Marian inside and up the stairs, leaving the nobleman on the ground sputtering.

"You're not a rabid cur, Gwaine. Or a mongrel," she said once they were on the landing.

He picked up her hand to examine her swelling knuckles. "Protecting my feelings, are we?" he asked, smiling for the first time in days.

"I just wanted you to know that arrogant asshole doesn't know what he's talking about. You're respected because you're a good man. No one cares if any of you were commoners before."

"What about you, beautiful? Do you care?" he asked, caressing her hand as he held it close to his chest.

"About you, yes. But I don't give a damn about bloodlines."

Gwaine closed the distance between them and lowered his head toward her. "But you care that I'm a knight. You begged me not to give it up should you have died."

"Only because it seems like you've found a purpose."

Her eyes widened as his lips got closer to her.

"You like that I'm a knight."

"I like that you're happy."

Their lips were close enough for her to feel his breath. Her eyes crossed when she looked up at him, trying to focus.

"Gwaine," Percival called from the other end of the corridor. "We've been summoned to the council chamber. You can finish wooing Marian later."

Gwaine sighed and stood straight. He was so close to kissing her. Again. He brought Marian's hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Another time, perhaps," Gwaine said and turned to follow Percival.

Marian let out a long breath as she watched him go.

"Perhaps."

The daylight was beginning to dim as Marian reached her bedchamber. She lit candles around the room, trying to ignore the loud grumble from her stomach. Though she hadn't had a proper meal in several days, her priority was to bathe, as it had been at least a week since she'd had a proper wash.

After filling the tub with scalding hot water, she undressed and climbed in. She stayed there for half an hour, at least, just soaking and not thinking.

With her muscles relaxed, she slid down to dip her head into her bathwater. Once she was completely covered, she opened her eyes to watch the candlelight flicker above her, distorted by the water. It was quiet and peaceful, hidden from the troubles of the world. There was no dorocha under the water. No pompous nobles. No almost kisses. No death. If she could have, Marian would've stayed there for hours.

Her serenity shattered when a shadow appeared in the warm light above her, and Gwaine's head popped over the tub, looking down at her, his eyes wide. He disappeared as quickly as he'd shown up.

Bubbles breached the water's surface as she let go of her breath and sat up. Wiping the water from her eyes, she scooted closer to the side of the tub to hide her nakedness. "Gwaine! What the hell?"

"I'm sorry!" he cried out, his back turned to her. "I-I thought you were gone. I didn't realize… I didn't see anything!"

"Sure you didn't," she said, rolling her eyes. "What's done is done." She sighed and pointed to the chair beside the fireplace. "Hand me that towel, will you?"

Gwaine turned his head to look where she was pointing and walked over to the chair, keeping his back to her. When he heard her stand, it took all his willpower not to turn around and look as he held the bath sheet out behind him.

She took the towel and wrapped it around her body, hiding all the important private bits. "It's safe now. You can turn around."

"Okay, I may have seen something. Everything. I saw, uh… yeah. But I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Gwaine. I promise."

Though there was an air of tension and sadness surrounding them, he couldn't help the leap his heart took as their eyes met.

With a shy smile, Marian stepped out of the tub, her hair dripping water and her skin adorned with sparkling dewdrops. When she looked up at him, she bit her bottom lip, trying to push down her sudden and inappropriate arousal.

Gwaine's hair was still damp from his own bath, his loose tunic spotted with droplets of water. He looked and smelled clean and inviting.

"I just wanted to see how you are. If you were hungry or needed anything."

"I'm fine. Thank you," she replied as her stomach chose that exact moment to protest the lack of food. She looked down at her belly and frowned. "Traitor."

"Why don't I go get something from the kitchens while you get dressed."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "The cook won't like that very much."

He lifted his hand to his chest, feigning a wounded heart. "Audrey and I get along famously, I'll have you know. The last time I pilfered food from her kitchen, she only threw a small goblet at my head, not an entire stew pot. She loves me, you know. Can't get enough of me. Always asks me to try new recipes."

"I'm sure all the flirting hasn't hurt," Marian smirked at him.

"The lady knows me too well," Gwaine said as he grinned and bowed with a flourish.

She dried off and dressed after he'd left for the kitchens, frowning at the dark turn her thoughts took.

Lancelot was supposed to be there, with more to do in Camelot. More adventures and quests. He'd had a son in the legends, hadn't he? And several lovers, including Guinevere. So many stories have been left undone.

It just wasn't fair. Why hadn't she been quicker? Why didn't she run to the veil and throw herself in? Marian knew damn well what the answer was, what it always was. Gwaine.

She sat on her bed and sighed. It would have broken him if she'd gone through the veil. Marian hadn't realized how much he cared for her before then. He had a little crush on her—that much was obvious. But he deeply cared for her. He'd even said she mattered to him.

Gwaine returned to her bedchamber with a tray of food—an assortment of cheeses, bread, some berries, and a couple of apples. Sitting down on the bed beside her, he laid the tray between them and picked up a berry, popping it in his mouth.

"Sorry, love. This was all I could find."

"Thank you, Gwaine. It's perfect."

They sat there, munching on the measly supper in silence, thinking back on the last week. When they were done, Gwaine turned to her with a resigned look on his face. "It would've killed me if you'd done what you'd planned to do, Marian."

"I know."

"Then why? Why would you do that? Willingly die?"

"As much as it broke my heart to think of doing it, I realized that there were more important things than my life."

"Marian—"

"No, Gwaine. There are. Arthur will be king—a great king—and Camelot needs him. And to be a great king, he needs you… all of you. Not me."

"And you think you can't do anything that will affect the kingdom or will help Arthur?"

Marian shook her head. "Nothing I do matters in the grand scheme of things."

"Sweetheart, there are more things in the world of value than influence. You have value to Camelot simply because you exist."

"I don't," she whispered. "You don't understand, Gwaine. When history is written, there'll be no room for me."

He gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "We'll just have to see about that, love."

When they parted, he picked up the tray and stood to leave.

"Stay," Marian said softly, grabbing onto his sleeve. "Please. I don't think I can bear to be alone tonight."

He smiled gently at her, nodding, and set the tray down on the floor. He pulled off his boots and climbed onto her bed, leaning against the headboard. Holding his arms out to her, he beckoned her.

She crawled over to him and nestled into the crook of his arm. Laying her head on his shoulder, she wrapped her arms around Gwaine's torso and held him tightly.

Apparently, they both needed comfort that night.

"Tell me more about Jamie," he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"My brother?" She sighed. "Well, he was such a good-natured child. He didn't even cry when he was born…"

Gwaine and Marian stayed like that for the rest of the night, cuddling together while she told him of happier times with her little brother.

When he awoke the next morning, Gwaine untangled himself from her arms. He pulled the blanket over her as she slept and silently left her bedchamber.

Camelot's finest stood in the stone courtyard to pay their respects to Lancelot. Dressed in their freshly polished armor and bright red cloaks adorned with the Pendragon crest, the knights stood in formation, still and quiet. In the center was a towering pyre, and on top sat Lancelot's folded cloak and sword. Marian, Merlin, and Gaius stood on the palace steps while Gwen stood next to Arthur at the head of the formation. They watched as Arthur threw a lit torch onto the pyre, igniting the wood.

Marian reached over to Merlin's hand and gave it a squeeze. Though they all felt Lancelot's sacrifice deeply, none were as affected as Merlin and Gwen. When Merlin looked over at her, Marian saw the unshed tears in his eyes.

After the memorial service, Merlin resumed his duties, though Arthur wasn't as enthusiastic about giving him tasks as he usually was. It seemed that Arthur needed him for comfort more than anything else.

Marian tried to work, helping Gaius with his potions, but she couldn't concentrate on what she was doing. Haunted by the events of the last week, her mind kept wandering to the Isle of the Blessed and what she could have done differently. She kept coming to the same conclusion—Gwaine would stop her, and someone else would have to die to save them.

Shen sat at the table in silence, crushing herbs with the mortar and pestle, when suddenly, the door to the chambers opened, and Elyan stepped in, looking anxious.

"Marian, I… uh… could use your help with something," he said.

She furrowed her brow, curious about what could cause Elyan to look so worried, and rose from her seat to follow him out to the corridor. "What is it, Elyan?"

"It's Gwaine. He's in the tavern, and it isn't good. We need your help with him."

"Jesus," she muttered, and she followed him out of the castle to down to the lower town.

Marian could hear Gwaine's bellows from outside the tavern. Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door and went in. He was sitting alone in a corner, with several empty tankards on the table, and yelling at the innkeeper to bring him more.

The exasperated barman looked relieved when Marian and Elyan stepped in the door. Finally, someone had come to take the drunk and angry knight home.

"What happened?" Marian asked as she went to the corner.

"We came down here after the memorial to mourn Lancelot. I guess Gwaine has taken it harder than any of us, and he wanted to drown his sorrows," Elyan replied, following her. "He won't listen to any of us. We thought maybe you could get him to leave since… you know."

"I know what?" she asked

Elyan shrugged and opened his mouth to tell her it was because of how much Gwaine was besotted with her. But he never got the chance.

"I am not drowning my sorrows!" Gwaine interrupted. "I can't because this bloody innkeeper won't bring me more ale!"

"You've already had ten tankards this eve! I'm cuttin' you off!" the innkeeper yelled, defending himself.

"You've had enough, Sir Gwaine," Marian said, wrapping his arm over her shoulder. "Time to go home."

Marian and Elyan pulled Gwaine from the bench, helping him to stand.

"You can't cut me off!" Gwaine shouted to the barman. "I'm a Knight of Camelot, you… you…"

Gwaine tried to tell the man off but fell back onto the chair. Marian and Elyan lifted him once again.

"Shush, Gwaine, let's get you home," Marian said, straining under his weight.

"I don't need help, you irritating harpy! I need more ale!" The drunken knight shouted before losing his footing and falling back down onto the chair.

"Gwaine…" Elyan warned.

"It's alright, Elyan. He didn't mean it," Marian said. "Did you?"

Marian pinched Gwaine, trying to get him to focus on getting up from the chair. Gwaine was usually merry and good-natured when he imbibed. But not this time. Instead, he was angry and rude. Despite being understandable, Marian grew tired of his attitude and increasingly irritated by his reckless drinking.

When they finally had Gwaine on his feet, Marian and Elyan supported his weight and walked to the tavern door. Marian passed the innkeeper a few coins as they left, hoping it was enough to brush the incident under the rug.

Outside in the crisp autumn air, Elyan and Marian made their way back up to the citadel, dragging the uncooperative knight between them.

"I need to piss," Gwaine said as they went through the market.

"I'm not surprised," Marian said, struggling under his weight.

Gwaine stopped, yanking Marian and Elyan back. "I need to piss now."

"I'll take him," Elyan sighed.

Marian helped them get to the privy door and stood outside as they went in. It was taking a long time, but the innkeeper said Gwaine had drunk ten pints. She jumped when she heard a loud crash from behind the door.

"Get up, Gwaine!" Elyan shouted from inside.

Marian held her ear to the door. "Everything okay in there?"

"No."

"Yes!" Gwaine shouted just as Elyan replied.

"The idiot fell."

Marian sighed. "Do you need help?"

"Yes."

"No!" Again, Gwaine shouted over Elyan's reply.

Just as Marian reached for the handle, the door flew open and Gwaine stumbled out. She pulled one of Gwaine's arms over her shoulder and the three headed back to the palace.

When they reached the stone courtyard, Elyan received a summons to the council chamber.

"Will you be alright with this great lump?"

"Go, Elyan. I can handle him now."

"You can handle me anytime you want," Gwaine said with an idiot grin on his face.

"Don't be lewd, Gwaine."

With his full weight a little more than she'd expected, Marian wobbled up the palace steps, and since her bedchamber was closer, she took him there to sleep off his drink rather than his own chambers. They inched their way up the stairs and down the corridor, one step at a time, bickering the entire way.

"I don't want to go back up to the castle," he pouted.

"You need to rest."

"I'm not tired."

"No, you're drunk. And I have to tell you, Gwaine, it's not a good look."

"Well, that tight braid isn't a good look on you. It makes you look like a strict old spinster."

"A biting insult, Gwaine. Truly, I'm hurt," she said dryly.

"Don't get sarcastic with me, wench. I'm a Knight of Camelot."

"And right now, this sarcastic wench is the only thing between you and a day in the stocks, so have a little respect, Sir Knight."

"You wouldn't."

"I most certainly would if you don't cooperate and move your fucking feet!"

"Such language from a lady!"

"Don't act so shocked."

"I'll have you know that I have innocent ears!"

"Sure you do. They're about as innocent as you are."

"Are you teasing me, Marian?"

"You know you like it when I do."

"I do. I really do."

When they reached her bedchamber, she took him inside and closed the door behind them. Removing his arm from her shoulders, she went over to the fireplace to light a fire.

Gwaine swayed when she let him go and looked around the room, confused. There was no trace of his armor, only a dress hanging across a chair. He didn't remember ever owning a dress. And even if he did, that one would be too small to fit him. Maybe it had been left by a woman who had stayed the night with him? No, that wasn't it. He hadn't been with anyone since he'd come to Camelot—or rather, not since he'd met Marian and had fallen in love with her.

Perhaps it was Marian's dress. It looked to be the right size, and it was a style and color that she'd wear. Had she visited him in the night, and he didn't remember? That would have been a shame to not remember a night of passion.

He grinned as he remembered seeing Marian in the bath the night before. Never ever would he forget that. Maybe she had visited him. The thought of Marian coming to warm his bed made him giggle, and he looked over at the bed to see if it could jog his memory. He frowned. The bed was small, not the double he was used to. And the blanket was a soft lavender color, not the bright red he had.

"This isn't my bedchamber," he said as he staggered to the bed and clumsily spun to face her.

She shook her head. "No, it's mine, remember?" she said as she walked up to him and placed her hands on his chest.

He smirked at her, wagging his eyebrows. "Oh, who's the lewd one now?" he asked as he covered her hands with his. "Are you going to put on that thin nightdress from the other night? It was very pleasing, you know. It showed off your breas—"

Marian pushed on his chest hard, and he fell back, landing on the bed. She went over to the side table, poured a cup of water, and handed it to him. "Drink this."

He took the cup from her and gulped, emptying it in one go, and then belched.

She snatched the cup and refilled it, handing it back to him. "Sip it, please," she said softer.

He sat on her bed, sipping the water slowly. He looked like a child who'd lost his best friend and didn't know why. He glanced over at Marian with huge, sad eyes when she sat next to him and tenderly put her hand on his arm. She'd known Gwaine to drink and occasionally overindulge. But never had she known him to be an angry drunk, which worried her.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on in that big, dense head of yours?"

Gwaine looked down at his hands and took a shaky breath before he began. "He was a brother to me, Marian. They all are. I just… I just can't believe he's gone."

"Lancelot was important to many of us, Gwaine. And he wouldn't want you to hurt yourself mourning him."

He stared at her, a look of regret flashing in his eyes. "I've never had anyone to lose until I came to Camelot. I'm sorry I yelled at you and called you a harpy and a wench. I didn't mean it."

Marian smiled at him as she brushed the hair from his eyes, running her fingers through his hair. She cupped his face and caressed his cheek with her thumb. "I know, you big dumb idiot."

He closed his eyes, pushing out small tears. Opening his eyes, he smiled back at her with genuine fondness. "And you don't look like an old spinster."

"Thank you, Gwaine."

He knew he didn't deserve her, and yet somehow, she was there, taking care of him. Marian was always there when he needed her. Holding her hand in his, he sat there, staring at her, his thumb rubbing her knuckles. He turned his head, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing her palm. His eyes went from hers to her lips, and he leaned forward, intending to kiss her.

Instead, she stood and bent low and placed a soft lingering kiss on his brow. "Lie down and get some rest, Gwaine. I'll be right over there if you need me," she said as she pointed at the small chair in the corner.

Gwaine removed his jacket and boots but left his tunic and trousers on, keenly aware that he wasn't in his own chamber. As he lay down, he thought Lancelot would have been proud of him for his restraint. Gwaine had been a perfect gentleman. Well, almost.

After only a moment of quiet, he drifted off to sleep, and for the second night in a row, he slept in her bedchamber.

Marian sat in her chair and looked at the stars, wondering if the constellations were the same ones from her own time. As she watched the sky, her thoughts turned to Gwaine. No matter what she'd been cursed with, he needed someone and she was determined to be that someone, one way or another.

Spells (a rough translation from the Merlin Wiki at merlin dot fandom dot com):

S'enthend 'apokhorein nun epitello! - I now enjoin you to depart from this place!