Honor By Knight – Elyan: Faded Cloak
Two days on detail with Gwaine, and Elyan was ready to pull his hair out. Patrolling the lanes around the church in the lower town, they were there to provide security for the workers rebuilding it, protection of passer-byers from debris and other dangerous obstructions and watch for suspicious activity. Light duty for both to heal from their wounds sustained during their imprisonment by Morgana.
The reconstruction noise thankfully drowned out Gwaine's grousing again about missing the dragon attack. There were enough distractions to keep them both alert and busy. Elyan found a moments of peace when Gwaine became preoccupied with a security issue or alerted by one thing or another, sometimes wandering off down the lane without him.
Elyan had appealed to Percival to assign him with Sir Brandon and the patrol on the boundaries of the Forest of Ascetir or shoring up the defenses in the siege tunnels with Galahad, but Percival sent him to Ranulf, who promptly rejected his request.
Any other detail was preferable to spending two more days with Gwaine.
Gwaine was good fun, a crowd pleaser with his tall tales, and an excellent and sure draw for the ladies. Elyan had always enjoyed his rogue nature, appreciated his fierceness in battle. But all the man spoke about lately was how much action he'd missed when the dragon had attacked and how much of an inconvenience his broken arm and other injuries were. He'd stopped listening after a time, letting his gaze and thoughts wander elsewhere.
Elyan sighed. He should be happy with how things turned out, grateful that Gwen was home and had forgiven him. Their first reunion had been taut with resentment; she'd called him a coward, slapped his face, spurned him for a while. His treatment of her had gnawed at him; yet her scorn was justified.
Guilt still haunted him, fangs still pierced his neck, snakes infested his dream.
He wasn't the same man after being tortured by Morgana and the nathair serpent. He still felt the tiny, sharp fangs pierce his flesh, pumping into his neck searing blue-cold and white-hot venom made magical by Morgana.
He betrayed his sister by abandoning her. He betrayed Arthur, informing Morgana of his intended destination to Ealdor. He wasn't just a coward: he was a traitor. He didn't belong in the dragon-emblazed red cape covering his shoulders. His quality lacked honor, courage, and pride.
"Leon should be here soon," Gwaine said as he approached from behind. Elyan wiped the moisture that had seeped from his eyes. "Think he'll have an ale with us tonight?"
"Likely two," Elyan replied, his voice flat.
Gwaine smacked him on the back with his good arm as he came into step, his grin wide. "Think he'll go over limit now that he's no longer our commander?"
"Probably not. Now, he's a widower with two little girls to look after."
"Bah! I'm sure they can do without him for a few hours."
Elyan rolled his eyes, the solemnity of his response deflected on point by Gwaine. He turned inward again and whatever Gwaine continued to say drifted into the aether.
He thought of his father, Thomas, how disappointed he would be had he still been alive. He once had the integrity of his father, held fast to convictions. He was proud to carry on the family trade blacksmithing. The ring of hammer on steel was once a melody of fulfillment, customers praising his craftsmanship.
As a knight, he had to be as good as, or better than, any of the noblemen. He'd proven to be an honorable and trustworthy warrior. The ugly business with Gwen's exile and Morgana's venomous weapon had revealed his true character though. He was not the man he thought he was.
He found no one to confide how terrified he was, how the bitterness was eating his insides, how being in their noble company sicken him of late. Perhaps they could ignore what he'd done, pardon and forgive him because that's what brothers did, what families did. Yet, he could not forgive himself.
When secret meetings turned into whispers, Arthur's visions of the future, and conspiracy to conceal Merlin's true identity, bitterness choked him, disdain for each of them smothered him. Trust crumbled. He didn't belong with this family any longer.
His despair deepened when Arthur freed magic a few days ago, the very thing responsible for his father's death, his possession by a druid spirit and torture by Morgana, Gwen's enchantments, and the false accusations against her. All his life he'd been told not to trust sorcerers and he hadn't.
Now there was one amongst them: Merlin. After lying about who he was, using magic on them, he was pardoned, protected, and heading for a position of power.
"They're evil and corrupt," everyone had said.
Those ingrained lessons were harder to let go – even for Merlin, a man he'd trusted since the day he met him. He was a liar and didn't deserve to be rewarded for it.
"Did you hear anything I said?" Gwaine asked, jerking him by the arm.
Elyan blinked, coming back to the now. "No, not really."
"It wasn't fair, I tell you," Gwaine whined, sweeping his good arm to usher a few maidens around a pile of rubble. "After all that I'd been through, I deserve that kind of action. I was born to battle dragons."
Elyan rolled his eyes as a wagon creaked by. He leaned against the scaffolding around the damaged church, wishing that the saws scrapped harder, the hammers pounded louder, and the commotion rebuilding drowned out the man grousing about the dragon again.