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Gwaine was the first to know. 

He would like that noted on the record, such as it were. He would like it recognised that of all the knights, he was the one who knew Merlin best, the first one who realised just what it was that his friend was going through, even if he wasn’t the first to say so. Because Merlin was exactly that—his friend—and you don’t just go around telling every random person your friend’s secrets, do you? 

So, yes. He would like it noted that he was the one who noticed, he was the one who knew first, even if it was Leon who loudly and unsympathetically burst out with a question one day after a particularly gruelling training session. 

“Did anyone else notice something odd about Merlin?” 

“I did,” Gwaine piped up quickly, causing the others to glance over to him with exasperated expressions. “What? I did,” he insisted. 

“I think it’s been there a while,” said Elyan, ignoring Gwaine entirely. “I first saw it, oh, a few months ago?”

Gwaine huffed. A few months. He’d known for at least… well, definitely since before he’d become a knight, that was for sure. 

“Do you think Arthur knows?” Percival’s brow was creased, though it seemed that he, too, knew exactly what was being discussed. 

“Arthur was in a hell of a mood today,” said Gwaine—not, of course, that any of them needed reminding. “Even he doesn’t normally leave us running drills for four hours without a break. Guys, I don’t think I can feel my arms. I don’t think I even have legs anymore—”

“Oh good,” Elyan grinned. “I suppose there’s no way for you to make it up the stairs, then. It’ll be nice to eat dinner in peace for once.” 

“Oi, wait a minute—”

“What should we do about it?” asked Leon. 

“Well, you could always carry me up, lads, I’m sure you’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to feel me wrapped in your arms—”

“About Merlin,” Leon clarified, throwing Gwaine a dirty look which Gwaine believed was entirely uncalled for. 

“Should we really do anything?” Elyan asked. “It’s none of our business.” 

“Merlin’s our friend,” Percival offered. “Shouldn’t we help him if he needs it?”

“Does he need it, though?” Elyan continued. “It can’t have just popped up out of nowhere, and if Arthur does know then—”

“Then he’s no doubt making life a living hell for Merlin.” Gwaine glanced away from them, considering what they had all said and wondering if he’d made the right call in keeping Merlin’s secret, after all. If they were all willing to help, they could have been helping for—for years. “You know what Arthur’s like. Especially when it comes to Merlin.” 

The knights nodded, some looking a little more solemn than others. They did all know exactly what Arthur was like—especially when it came to Merlin. 

“Has anyone else noticed that Merlin’s been getting more chores lately?” Leon had his thinking face on. “Working longer hours, barely leaving Arthur’s side at all?”

“You don’t think Arthur’s punishing him?” asked Percival. 

“I don’t know what else it could be,” Leon said. “Arthur only left us alone today when Merlin came back from that errand Gaius sent him on. It was like Arthur needed to let his frustration out on something—and when he’s not letting it out on us…”

Elyan audibly winced. 

Leon nodded. “Yes. Exactly.” 

“So what do you say we do?” Gwaine asked. “I’m certainly all for cornering Arthur and beating him black and blue until he swears to stop overworking Merlin, but I for one am not too keen for another trip to the dungeons, and we all know that nothing short of a miracle would make Arthur treat his servants like actual human beings—”

“That’s too far,” Leon cut in. 

Gwaine sighed. Yes, all right. For all that Arthur was a nobleman, he had proven to be a good friend even to those below him. He was just… what was that word Merlin liked to use? 

Oh yeah. 

A dollophead. 

Personally Gwaine might have gone for a different word beginning with the same letter, but Merlin always had been rather soft when it came to the ass of a prince. 

“Fine,” Gwaine said instead. “Then how about we just try something a little more subtle. Get Merlin some more free time, yeah?” 

“Look at you,” said Elyan, shaking his head as if in amazement. “Gwaine, I didn’t realise you understood what the word subtle even meant.” 

“Oh yeah? You know what won’t be subtle? The black eye you’ll be sporting after I’m—”

“I think Gwaine has a point,” Leon cut in loudly. “Merlin clearly just needs help getting away from Arthur, and then we’ll see an improvement in everyone’s mood.”

“Except for Arthur’s,” Elyan sighed. “We’ll probably have to put up with more training sessions like today if we go through with this.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Gwaine said. “Merlin’s our friend.” 

And from the hard, determined looks on all of the knights’ faces, Gwaine knew that they’d work together to see this through. 

—

Their plan was a relatively simple one; get Merlin away from Arthur so he could have some free time to spend doing—well, something that made him happy. 

When he thought more carefully about it, Gwaine wondered what it must be like to be so marked by destiny, to be chosen in a way that was so entirely out of your control—in a way that made the person closest to you act in the absolute dickish manner that Arthur seemed to be acting in now. 

Although… given what Gwaine (and apparently also the rest of the knights) knew, he supposed Arthur wasn’t the person Merlin was closest to. He just… couldn’t be. 

And yet, Arthur was monopolising all of Merlin’s time, giving him no chance to leave, to go out into the world, to be himself, to be with people who cared about who he was. 

To be with someone who knew him. 

It was very, very clear that Merlin’s happiness (and probably also his health) relied upon the knights’ ability to get him away from Arthur, even if only for a short while. 

So. That was where the plan came in. 

“Merlin!” Gwaine exclaimed, grabbing his friend by the arm and skillfully leading him down a corridor which led in the complete opposite direction to the prince’s rooms. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you, where have you been?”

“Well,” Merlin said, trying without really trying to tug his arm from Gwaine’s grip. “Arthur wanted—”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Gwaine said, dragging Merling around the corner.

“But, you did ask—”

“It’s fine, I sent George as your replacement today. You need some time off.”

“You sent George?” At that, Merlin did actually seem to try, planting his feet so solidly that Gwaine almost stopped in his own stride. But despite everything, Merlin was still only about half of Gwaine’s size and weight—probably even less so, when you considered all the armour that Gwaine was obliged to wear these days—

“Gwaine, my friend, I know you probably think you’re helping but if Arthur has to put up with George for a solid day then I am never going to hear the end of it—” 

“But only for the times that you’re with him,” Gwaine pointed out, an edge creeping into his tone as he realised—well, that maybe he should have asked around about the different servants before simply choosing one at random. “Surely that’s worth it, no?” 

Merlin tilted his head, and stared at Gwaine in a manner that was somewhat odd. “Gwaine,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure how this has escaped your notice but I am, in fact, always with Arthur—”

“Exactly! You deserve a day of freedom, a day to relax with someone other than the princess! You can’t tell me that you actually want to spend all of your time polishing his armour or licking his shoes or whatever it is he makes you do—”

“Well—”

“And I know for a fact that he’s been making you work harder than usual lately—”

“I suppose—”

“And Merlin, you have to admit, everyone needs some time off. Even you, with your unnatural ability to be able to put up with Arthur for longer than five minutes at a time—”

“That’s not fair—”

“Yes Merlin, we all know he’s your friend, even if neither of you will admit it. That doesn’t mean he’s not a royal ass—”

“More of a royal arse,” Merlin groaned, and Gwaine allowed a grin. He’d heard all the quips about Arthur’s time as a literal ass, as it were, and even though he hadn’t been present at the time he found that he still rather enjoyed the jokes—and honestly, Merlin’s redirection of it almost proved Gwaine’s point. They were friends. And yet, Merlin was more frustrated by Arthur than usual. 

“You see?” he said, near crowing with the victory. “You need a break. Get out of the castle, go down into town, pick some flowers, visit the tavern. I can run interference with Arthur if he manages to lose George. It’s fine. You go, I’ve got this.” 

Merlin narrowed his eyes, as if he were suspicious. 

Gwaine narrowed his back. “What?”

“Gwaine, are you in trouble?”

“Am I—what?”

“In trouble? Normally you only come and bother me like this if you need help with something—”

“That’s not true—”

“Oh, yes it is. Why, just last week you offered me an extra helping of food before you asked if I could tie Percival’s boot-laces together under the table—”

“All right, but you have to admit that was quite funny though—”

“They knew it was me!”

“Percival forgave you.”

“Arthur gave me a lecture about respecting the knights and then he made me clean every inch of Percival’s armour. Do you know how big he is?” 

Gwaine winced. 

Merlin wasn’t done. 

“And the week before that, you asked me to cover your debt at the tavern. Again. You’re a knight, Gwaine, I’m a servant—”

“The innkeeper trusts your credit more than mine—”

“And the week before that you needed my help hiding from Gaius after you ran into him in the hall and made him drop an entire case of tonics. Gwaine, you are my friend, and I would help you in a heartbeat but please, stop getting me in trouble! I’ve been told by higher authorities than you that I am incredibly good at that myself and I don’t need any help. Nor do I need help avoiding Arthur. I am his manservant. Being near him is my job.”

Gwaine felt the creases of his frown deepen. “It’s your job, huh?”

Merlin lifted a hand, and placed the back of it to Gwaine’s brow. “Are you sure that you’re all right?” he asked, his voice now laced with concern rather than frustration. “It’s been my job longer than you’ve known me.”

“I know that,” Gwaine huffed, shoving Merlin’s hand away. “But…”

He eyed Merlin for a moment, and his friend eyed him right back, still looking highly suspicious and highly concerned at the same time—an expression Gwaine didn’t think anyone else would ever be able to pull off. 

But despite Gwaine’s own concern—and his usual penchant for simply stating whatever it was that popped into his head—he wasn’t quite sure how to explain that his worry stemmed from the fact that never once had he heard Merlin say that looking after Arthur was his job.

A burden, yes. An honour, of course. Dramatic tirades about coins and destiny and an inescapable, unavoidable pressure? All the time. But his job? 

If Gwaine didn’t already know what was going on, he would have been certain in that moment that Merlin was hiding something. 

Instead, Gwaine simply sighed, and shook his head. 

“You know what Merlin? Fine. Fine. You go back to your princess and heat up his bathwater—”

“The maids in the kitchen do that, actually, I uh, wouldn’t be able to carry it all up the stairs myself—”

“—and forget about the whole wide world out there just waiting for you. There’s more to living than just Arthur, you know?” 

Leaving Merlin standing in the hallway with his mouth awkwardly hanging open, Gwaine charged off with a huff. 

—

The other knights, unfortunately, all reported similar failures. 

Leon’s offer to help Merlin gather some flowers had been met with a rant about how Merlin could barely keep up with the demands of being Arthur’s servant while having to be at Gaius’ beck and call every other day, and that he certainly didn’t have time to help clueless knights woo whatever girl had caught their eye. (Apparently, Merlin had also apologised after, but Leon had been too soft hearted to try again.)

Percival, it turned out, had straight up asked Merlin if there was somewhere he would rather be, and had received the reply that yes, actually, there was—but nothing further. In fact, Percival reported that Merlin had been smiling when he said it, but had hurried off with Arthur’s plate of dinner before Percival’d had the chance to say anything further. 

Gwaine was at least gratified that he hadn’t suffered through the worst failure of the bunch. Certainly, that honour was held by Leon—at least until Elyan slumped down on the table beside Percival and took a long swig of his drink. 

He, apparently, had barely walked up to Merlin before the servant had demanded to know why all of the knights were suddenly so interested in pulling him away from Arthur. Elyan had backed away quickly, leaving Merlin muttering about overbearing knights and not being able to have a moment to himself. 

“That did not work,” said Elyan, twisting his still-half-full tankard between the palms of his hands. “Didn’t work at all.”

“Thank you for stating the blindingly obvious, mate,” Gwaine groaned, his own newly refilled tankard half spilling as it sat lopsided in his hands, his head resting uncomfortably on the table in front of him. The wooden surface was rather sticky and smelled worse than Cook’s stew, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. “Next time tell me that your sword is sharp, or that I look great in red.” 

“We’ll just have to try something else,” Leon cut in, ever the pragmatist. “Elyan, you said Merlin wants a moment to himself?”

“Maybe that’s just it, then?” Gwaine groaned. “Maybe he thinks we’re trying to spend time with him as well, which’ll be even more of a drag on the free time he does have?”

“If that’s the case, then I don’t see what we can do,” Leon replied. 

“But we have to do something,” Gwaine insisted. “He’s miserable, he has to be. You know, he told me that he has to be with Arthur because it’s his job.”

The wince moved its way around the table faster than a pestilence through a town. They all knew how serious it must be for Merlin to have said something so mundane about his service to Arthur. It was clear that Merlin was trying to convince himself that he needed to be by Arthur’s side. 

“But then, what?” asked Percival. “If he doesn’t want our help, how can we help him?” 

“I dunno, maybe you could start by leaving me to my own devices?” 

Gwaine started and looked up at the familiar voice, trying to ignore the way his hair stuck to the table as he did so. 

“Merlin?” he asked, feeling confusion make way for a smile. “Merlin!”

“Gwaine. Everyone.” Merlin made a grab for Gwaine’s ale as he slid onto the bench beside Elyan, and just this once, Gwaine let him have it. 

“What are you doing here?” Gwaine asked. 

Merlin blinked at him over the lip of the tankard. “You’re the one who told me I should visit the tavern.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean with—” he cut off with a grunt as someone’s boot made contact with his shin under the table. Gwaine glared at Elyan, the other knight’s innocent expression as he stared at the wall behind Gwaine’s ear something of a dead giveaway. 

“I suppose I should thank you, though,” Merlin continued drily, after taking a long swig and then wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “George managed to get all of Arthur’s armour polished before I got there, and Arthur was tired enough after dealing with him that he couldn’t think of anything else for me to do before he fell asleep.”

“So you got out early?” Elyan asked. 

Merlin nodded once. “Exactly.”

“But. It’s past the tenth bell.”

“Exactly.” 

“What time do you normally get out of there?”

Not really wanting to hear the answer to Elyan’s horrified question, Gwaine cut in with a question of his own. 

“The point still stands though Merlin, don’t you have somewhere better to be than hanging out with a couple of knights like us? It didn’t seem like you wanted our company earlier.” 

“Well,” Merlin said, tilting his head in consideration. “It really wouldn’t be too hard to find better company. Harder to find worse, I’d say. Hmm. Morgana, maybe. Pity Morgause is gone, she might have made the list—” Merlin cut off with a laugh as he dodged the tankard Gwaine flicked in his direction—causing Percival to complain of course, since it was, after all, his tankard. 

Merlin was still grinning as he grabbed a piece of bread from the plate in front of Elyan to flick back at Gwaine, causing Elyan himself to raise his own tankard threateningly over Merlin’s head—

“Oi, you lot! Stop making a mess of my tavern!” 

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” Leon sighed, but Gwaine ignored him as he turned to the innkeeper with a grin. 

“Evoric, my good man! How excellent it is to see you this fine evening—”

“Sir Gwaine. I hope that you and your friends have been keeping track of your drinks tonight. I would hate to see you come up short again and require…” Evoric paused as his eyes wandered to Merlin. “...the prince’s own coin once again.” 

“I’m sure you don’t mind where the coin comes from my good friend, so long as it’s coin, eh?” Gwaine grinned and stood, proud that he wobbled only slightly as he clapped the innkeeper on the back. To be honest, he had actually lost track of his drinks. “Don’t fret, you’ll be paid.” 

Evoric eyed him for a moment, the gleam of a shrewd merchant clear in his gaze. His frown remained as he turned away, and Gwaine did the same. He heard Evoric mutter something, though he did not quite catch what was said. 

Someone else did. 

“Excuse me,” Merlin said, the polite words doing little to hide the sudden poison in his tone. “What was that you just said about Prince Arthur?”

Evoric’s smile was both more pleasant and more false as he turned back to face the servant, who was now also on his feet. “Nothing, of course.”

“Actually, no, that wasn’t nothing—”

“Merlin,” said Gwaine, stepping around the table to grip Merlin by the arm, lest he do anything rash. It wasn’t often that he saw Merlin on the drink, but the few times he had were experience enough to know that his friend was about to do something he would regret. “Calm down now, we don’t want to start a fight—”

“That’s rich, coming from you—”

“Come on Merlin, I’m sure you have other places to be tonight—”

“Oh I really don’t, you saw to that when you sent George to Arthur’s rooms—Arthur, who is a good man and who chooses his knights on merit alone.”

The last half of the sentence was directed at the innkeeper, and it was more than enough for Gwaine to finally grasp what it was that had been said—for he had become used to the sharp words uttered in the streets and even by the other knights about the four of them who had been knighted without noble background. (Or at least, none that anyone else knew of.) 

Unfortunately, the moment of realisation was all the distraction Merlin needed to duck under Gwaine’s arm and dart in front of the innkeeper, his face a portrait of fury. 

“You have no right to speak about the prince that way,” Merlin argued—

“And you have stepped out of line, speaking to me that way in my own establishment,” the innkeeper shot back. “I would be well within my rights to throw you out on the doorstep this instant—”

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” said Gwaine, moving a little closer. “You see, I might not have been knighted through the traditional way. But I am a Knight of Camelot. And that was my prince that you were insulting—and my friend that you’re threatening.” 

Evoric’s face reddened. “Your prince has lost his way, letting this kind of rabble into his castle. No, in fact, I’d say he’s lost his mind.”

This time, Gwaine would not have been fast enough to grab Merlin even if he had wanted to. What the servant lacked in combat training he made up for in enthusiasm as he drew back his arm and slammed his fist into the side of Evoric’s head, shouting a Camelot war cry as if he were on the field of battle. 

Gods, Merlin was such a lightweight. 

But, lightweight or not, Gwaine wasn’t about to let his friend fight alone, and neither were any of the other knights. And as other patrons quickly joined in, the small kerfuffle quickly escalated into a full out brawl. 

By the time the clamour died and the dust cleared, Evoric was sporting many a bruise, swearing to never let a knight into the Rising Sun ever again—

And the dirtied knights were crowding around a single, unfortunate figure. 

It was Merlin, lying on the floor. 

Unconscious. 

“How in all the kingdoms did this happen?” Leon asked. “We are supposed to be helping him.”

Elyan groaned. “Pretty sure it was Gwaine’s fault.” 

Now that was entirely uncalled for—

“And I’m pretty sure it was all his,” Gwaine replied, looking down at his prone friend. “We were right. Look at him, he needs all the help he can get.” 

“Getting him knocked out wasn’t exactly the kind of help we had in mind,” said Elyan. 

Percival tilted his head. “I suppose this is a kind of free time though, isn’t it? So long as he’s unconscious, he’s free of Arthur’s punishments.” 

“But he’s not free to do as he wishes, either,” Leon retorted. “We’re going to have to try much harder. Now, come on, we can’t leave him lying there.” 

They managed to hoist Merlin off the ground and stagger with him back to the physician’s quarters, where they were met by one of Gaius’ famed raised eyebrows. The disappointment rolling off him was enough for Gwaine to want to make himself scarce for at least a week. 

And as the knights trudged back to their own lodgings in relative quiet, they knew that one thing was clear above all else—if their plan was to actually work, then they were going to need some help. 

It was time to bring in the cavalry. 

—

Gwaine had volunteered to go alone, but he had somehow ended up with Leon at his side. He didn’t think that was an accident, but he did his absolute best not to appear insulted. 

The company turned out to be a good thing, however, as he didn’t think he would have so easily been able to say the words which gracefully fell from Leon’s lips without a single ounce of shame. 

“Gwen,” said Leon. “We need your help.” 

She lifted an eyebrow, and stared at them with a decent mix of curiosity and concern. “With what, exactly? Is everyone all right?” 

“Everyone is fine,” Leon said—and Gwaine couldn’t help himself. 

“Well, mostly, anyway,” he added. “Arthur was a bit upset after, you know—”

“Gwaine,” Leon hissed.

“You know what, it’s actually less that we need your help and more that we’re after a favour—”

“If you’re just trying to steal from Cook again then I want no part in it—”

“No, it’s not that,” Gwaine interrupted Gwen quickly, but too slowly for—

“You’ve been stealing from the kitchens?” Leon asked, turning to Gwaine. “Gwaine, you are a knight—”

“Exactly,” Gwaine replied. “I need my energy! If I have to stick to only set meals I’m going to keel over and faint one day, and then there’ll be no one to watch your back.” 

Leon did not look impressed, but rather than wait for another reprimand—

“Gwen, there’s something going on with Merlin,” Gwaine said. 

Gwen crossed her arms. “Are you telling me that you’ve only just noticed?”

“You know, then?” Gwaine asked, surprised. 

“Of course I do,” she replied. “I’ve known him far longer than you have. And I’m not an idiot.” 

Leon let out a short laugh, and Gwaine sighed. 

Gwen seemed to start. “Oh, I—didn’t mean—”

“No, I dare say you’re right,” Leon said. “That’s why we’ve come to you for help. You know Merlin better than any of us—”

Not me, Gwaine thought, holding back a huff—

“—and you are friends with the prince.”

Gwen shifted. “I wouldn’t call us friends, I mean, Arthur’s the prince, and I’m a maid.”

“Gwen, it’s just us, come on,” Gwaine groaned. “Will you help us get Merlin some free time or not?”

“Free time?” Gwen frowned. “I’m sure Merlin would appreciate it, but I don’t see how that would help—”

“Oh come on, you know that Arthur takes up all of Merlin’s time,” Gwaine continued. “There’s no way that Merlin has time for anything, or anyone else.” 

Gwen crossed her arms. “I’m starting to think that you actually don’t know what’s going on,” she said.

“I’m sure we know more than you do,” Gwaine said. “We spend almost every day with Arthur and Merlin, after all.” 

“Gwaine,” Leon hissed, his tone an obvious warning. 

Gwaine, also obviously, ignored him. 

“No one knows those two better than us. We know what the problem is, and if you don’t want to help, then you don’t have to. We can manage on our own.” 

“Gwaine,” Leon groaned. “Gwen, I am so sorry, don’t let him stop you from helping us help our friend.” 

“Don’t worry, Leon. He’s only made me want to prove him wrong.” Gwen offered them a smile that Gwaine was pretty sure spelled nothing but trouble. “Come with me. I have an idea.” 

It was with a sense of trepidation that Gwaine followed his two co-conspirators, but he followed them nonetheless. 

—

Gwen’s idea was a little more complicated than those that the knights had concocted themselves, but it remained relatively easy to execute. 

Gaius was in need of more rare herbs, and Cook was after a specific kind of mushroom that only grew deep in the forest. Apparently, the mushroom was absolutely essential for a dish which King Uther had demanded for the feast that night, and Cook did not trust Merlin with the collecting. 

Or at least—that was the story Gwen concocted. With her joining the group, Merlin was much happier to go along with Gaius’ chores. Once they got Merlin away from Arthur, it shouldn’t be too hard for them to convince him to stop off in the lower town on their way back before heading for the castle.

Well. Anyway. That was what everyone had thought. 

The trouble arose right at the beginning, when Gwaine noticed that Merlin and the stablehands had a total of seven horses readied and waiting in the courtyard—a number which Gwaine didn’t even need to try to guess the reason for before Arthur was strolling down the castle steps. 

“Sire, I am sure that you have more important duties to attend to,” Leon tried, matching Arthur’s pace as he headed for his horse. “Merlin and Gwen will be safe with us, you need not worry—”

“I have no doubts that they will be. But I have been reading through ledgers and petitions since dawn, and they are all so dreadfully dull. I need a break. I need fresh air. I need—Merlin, what are you doing to that poor animal?” 

Gwaine watched as Arthur stepped away from Leon with nary a further thought, heading to where Merlin was fiddling with the bridle of his own horse. 

“The leather’s split, so I’m trying to fix it—”

“Why wasn’t this done earlier? This must have been broken since last week, it needs proper stitching—”

“I guess I forgot. Probably too busy polishing your sword after that fight with those bandits.” 

“Fix it, Merlin,” Arthur said, his tone hard as he held Merlin’s gaze. “I won’t have you losing control of your horse and ruining the entire outing.” 

“Of course, Sire,” Merlin replied, his usual sarcasm evident in the glint of his blue eyes. “I’d never try to prevent you from enjoying a good ride.” 

Arthur nodded sharply and moved away to his own steed, and Merlin ducked his head. Gwaine checked over his own horse, and upon finding nothing wrong with his tack he quickly mounted and prepared to depart. As he guided his horse past Merlin’s and around to the flank of the group, he couldn’t help but allow his gaze to pan to the damaged bridle, wanting to see for himself that his friend had fixed it well enough to avoid being thrown.

There was no evidence of the bridle having ever been damaged at all. 

They made good time, clearing the lower town and getting deep into the forest before the sun had reached its pinnacle. They made their way to a small glade which Merlin knew well, having frequented it many times for Gaius’ herbs and ingredients. They pulled up their horses, and the knights exchanged a serious look of connivance between them. 

“Gwaine, you and Merlin should stay here and gather these herbs. The rest of us will go ahead for the mushrooms,” said Leon. 

“Sure,” said Gwaine, swinging his leg over his saddle to dismount. “Come on then, Merlin, chop chop.” 

Merlin huffed, but did as he was told, sliding somewhat ungracefully from his horse and then pulling a set of small sacks from his saddlebag. 

“Wait a moment, there’s no need for us to split up,” Arthur said, also dismounting. 

“I disagree,” Gwaine replied, not really thinking before he did so, as per usual. 

And as expected, Arthur shot him a look that was equal parts annoyed and equal parts disbelieving. 

“Sorry. I mean that I respectfully disagree, my lord.” 

“You’ve never done anything respectfully in your life,” Arthur grunted, but Gwaine grinned, knowing he was off the hook. 

“It’ll be a lot faster if we split up, and I for one am anxious to get back to a place with a tavern and a real bed.” 

“We’ve been outside the walls for less than an hour,” said Elyan. 

Gwaine shrugged. “I said what I said.” 

“He is right, it will be faster,” said Gwen. “Arthur, why don’t you stay with Gwaine and Merlin? Make sure they don’t get into any trouble.”

“Are you suggesting I can’t protect one single servant?” Gwaine gasped. “Guinevere, I am a Knight of Camelot—”

“To be honest, it’s not Merlin I’m worried about,” Gwen said. 

Merlin grinned. 

Gwaine huffed.

“Fine,” said Arthur—

And no, wait, hold on a minute—

“It’s really not necessary for you to stay,” said Gwaine, shooting the others a look, asking for help—

“It’s really not,” Leon agreed—and maybe it was the act of Leon agreeing with Gwaine which had Arthur narrowing his eyes. “Sire, Percival and myself could stay here with them if you want, if it is Merlin’s safety that you’re worried about—”

“What I want is for you lot to tell me the truth,” Arthur cut in. “There’s something going on here, and I’m not sure I like it.”

“There’s nothing going on,” Gwaine insisted. “Merlin, tell him.” 

“If there’s something, then I don’t know what it is,” Merlin said, entirely unhelpfully. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow in a manner he must have learned from Gaius. “Right,” he said flatly. “That certainly fills me with confidence.” 

“Fine then,” Gwaine grunted, not really seeing another way out of it. “You guys, go and get those mushrooms. I’ll stay here with Merlin and Arthur.” 

“You can go ahead with them Gwaine, there is no need for us both to stay to watch Merlin. Not even he could get into so much trouble that he needs the two of us.” 

“But—”

Arthur cleared his throat. Gwaine fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“But, Sire.”

“Are you still arguing with me?”

“I’m arguing respectfully!” 

Unfortunately, Arthur did not know how to argue respectfully—or at least, he didn’t while outside the confines of political discussion—for he first put his hand on his sword, and then he made a show of changing his mind and instead clapped Gwaine’s mount firmly on the rump, leaving Gwaine to chase after it through the bloody forest. 

Honestly, Gwaine thought as he stalked back to the clearing with his escaped horse’s reins in hand. He did not know why he continued to put up with all the nonsense. He was leading a perfectly happy life until Merlin’s stupidly bright smile had convinced him to become a Knight of Camelot—and now what? Chasing horses through the undergrowth? 

Maybe Elyan had been right. Maybe they should have stopped trying to ‘help’ Merlin after all. If he had actually wanted to get away from Arthur, surely something would have happened by now—because Merlin might present himself as the idiot, but Gwaine had a feeling that when he was up to something, he was rather good at managing to achieve whatever end he was after. 

And yet—

When Gwaine made it back to the glade, he stopped dead some yards from the edge of the treeline, seeing his brothers in arms—and Gwen—doing all they could to hide behind a bush. 

They probably would have been doing a better job of it, if they hadn’t all had their horses with them. As it were, the only reason that Merlin and Arthur hadn’t noticed that they were being very unskillfully spied on was probably because they were so caught up with hurling affectionate insults at each other. 

“I see that you’re all being incredibly productive,” Gwaine said, not even bothering to keep his voice down as he knew it was unlikely he’d be noticed over all the prats and the clotpoles and other such words that Gwaine had never really been able to nail down the meaning of. “I thought the plan was to get Merlin away from Arthur.” 

Gwen gave him an odd look. “I thought the plan was to get Merlin some free time.” 

“Even if it was, we’re hardly achieving that, either,” Gwaine pointed out. Then he gestured toward the glade, where Arthur and Merlin were practically at each other’s throats—though, as per usual, they both half looked like they were enjoying it. “Look at them! Merlin could be having the time of his life right now, but instead—”

“He’s with Arthur.” Gwen’s voice was a little hard, and even though Gwaine had a feeling there was something that she wasn’t quite saying, he couldn’t help but agree with the words themselves. 

“Exactly.” 

“But it’s not like we can do anything about it,” said Elyan. “Arthur’s not going to leave him now, you know how much he enjoys picking on Merlin like that—”

“Merlin enjoys it too, we all know that,” Leon added—

“Yes, but we all know what it’s keeping him from—”

“Of course we do, but that doesn’t change the fact—”

“Oh, for the love of—come on men,” Gwaine swore, shooting them all a glare as the last little shred of his patience utterly snapped. “I’ve had enough.” 

“No, Gwaine, wait—”

As per usual, Gwaine entirely ignored that particularly familiar instruction from Leon, and instead pushed his way through the last of the bushes and out into the open space of the glade. 

Merlin and Arthur both turned as Gwaine stormed up to them, though it took them a moment—they were standing so close together that their noses had only been about a sword’s-width from touching. And although their twin smirks melted to confusion at Gwaine’s approach, they didn’t move any further apart. 

“Gwaine,” said Arthur, sounding mildly frustrated at having been interrupted, but not in a manner that suggested irritation over having been caught. “Don’t tell me that you lost the horse.” 

“I don’t care about the bloody horse,” Gwaine growled, hands clenching to fists at his sides. “This has been getting ridiculous.” 

Merlin frowned, as if he didn’t know exactly what was going on. “Gwaine—”

“Just stop, Merlin,” Gwaine groaned. “We all know your secret, okay? We’ve all been trying to help you, but—”

His voice choked suddenly, as if his throat had been sliced clean through by the sword that swung through the air, the morning sun gleaming off the familiar golden adornments. 

“Don’t speak another word.” If the sword pointing at his head hadn’t already done it, the cold edge to Arthur’s voice would have sent a shiver down Gwaine’s spine. 

“Arthur,” Gwaine said, probably going rather unattractively cross eyed as he tried to keep the pointy end of the blade in his sights. “Let’s calm down now, huh? I don’t mean any harm—”

“So you thought you’d charge up here and demand to know about Merlin’s magic, but you didn’t mean any harm?” 

Gwaine blinked, because—because, what?

Magic?

“Arthur!” Merlin said, his voice almost a squeak—and despite everything that had led up to the entire situation, Gwaine was rather relieved to see Merlin’s hand appear upon Arthur’s upper arm. If anyone could stop the prince from chopping Gwaine’s head off, it would be Merlin’s soft and irritatingly logical words. ”Come on, I don’t know how he knows, but it’s Gwaine. And uh, oh, and all the others—Arthur.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur replied, his voice completely, terrifyingly level. “I won’t hurt him. I’m just making sure.” 

“And I would never hurt him,” Gwaine spat back, shaking off the shock of the moment and focusing on the task at hand. Because, uh. Magic. He’d. He’d deal with that later. “I’ve been trying to make sure that Merlin gets some time away from you—”

“Why would he want that?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because you work him to the bone—”

“I do not—”

“Really? He met us in the tavern the other night, after the tenth bell, and he said it was early—”

“That’s because it was, I was tired—”

“Oh I see, you were tired—”

“Yes, Gwaine, because I’m dealing with the stress of trying to run a kingdom since my father grew ill, and I do not need the added pressure of you trying to get Merlin killed by announcing his magic where anyone could hear—”

“We’re in the middle of the woods—”

“That hardly makes a difference!”

“And I didn’t even say anything about magic, actually! You were the one who did that! Twice! I didn’t even know Merlin had magic!” Finally tearing his gaze from the sword—which, to be fair, had lowered somewhat during the intervening argument—he turned to Gwen and the other knights. “Did any of you know about the magic?” 

From the staring and dumbstruck expressions on all of his friends—except possibly Percival, but Gwaine had always found him a little tricky to read—he assumed that was a solid no.

“You see? Didn’t know! Not until you told me!”

Merlin audibly groaned, and ran a hand over his face hard enough that it tugged at his skin. 

“But, if you didn’t know about the magic,” Arthur asked, “then what are you talking about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gwaine snapped. “Merlin’s got a soulmate, and your endless chores are stopping them from spending time together!”

It seemed that it was finally Arthur’s turn to be struck dumb with confusion. 

Merlin, meanwhile, winced as he scratched at the scarf that he always, always wore around his neck—the scarf that was never tied tight enough, and which occasionally slipped to the side to reveal the writing he tried to keep hidden underneath. 

Gwaine wasn’t about to let the moment of quiet slip through his grasp. “Honestly, don’t you think Merlin deserves some time off?” he asked. “I don’t know, just a day—just an evening, to be able to spend time with the person he loves most, the one that destiny chose for him? The one who said the words we all know are written over his neck?” 

“Uh, Gwaine,” started Merlin. “Can I just—”

“It’s all right, Merlin, we all get it,” Gwaine said. “We all understand that you have a duty to Arthur, we know you’re friends, yes, even if you both deny it. We know. But that doesn’t mean he should get to take up your every minute when you clearly have someone else waiting for you—” 

“Gwaine!” Arthur snapped, not having an ounce of Merlin’s patience—but Gwaine was not about to let this go, not now that he’d started in on the speech he’d all but been rehearsing in his head for weeks. 

“Merlin, listen, we’ve been trying to help you get some free time away from the princess so you could spend some time with them, we really have, but clearly you have some kind of instinct for self-sabotage. We don’t want to see you unhappy. So please, for the sake of the friendship we hold for you, please just tell Arthur to sod off and take some time to—” 

“Oh, Gwaine, for gods’ sake,” Gwen shouted—and when Gwaine’s head snapped around in surprise, it was to see her glaring at them all with her hands on her hips. “Arthur is Merlin’s soulmate! I thought you knew!”

Gwaine stopped even more surely than he had when he’d heard the word magic. “Arthur’s his what now?”

“My soulmate,” said Merlin, somehow managing to sound gentle in the midst of all the yelling. Though maybe that was just because of all the yelling. “He has been for quite a while, actually.” 

Slowly, as if the action were something he wasn’t quite used to, Merlin reached towards his scarf and pulled it down a bit—so that Gwaine could properly see the words that he’d only ever managed to glimpse before. 

I’d ask you for money, but I know you don’t have any. 

Wait, what? Those were the words which had made Merlin realise he’d fallen in love with his soulmate?

Gwaine’s gaze slipped back to Arthur. 

Huh. Well. He supposed that rather made sense, actually. 

“Oh,” said Gwaine. Considering the circumstances, he thought his response was actually rather articulate. “And, uh. You were going to tell us, when?”

“I was perfectly happy with telling you whenever,” Merlin shrugged. “But Arthur—”

“I don’t want my father to find out,” Arthur said, the same cool, threatening tone from before returning for just a moment. “Understood?”

Gwaine nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m not the kind to go shouting my friend’s secrets from the rooftops.” 

Arthur gave him a disbelieving look, but Merlin’s snort of amusement had Gwaine looking to him with a smile. 

“Just to be clear,” Gwaine said, wanting a certain fact to be noted by everyone present. “I kept the secret about you having a soulmate for ages until Leon decided to be a blabbermouth about it—”

“All I did was ask if any else had noticed,” Leon cut in quickly—

“Which we all had,” Elyan added firmly. 

“I hadn’t,” said Percival. And when they all turned to him in confusion—because he’d joined in on all their plans, hadn’t he?—he shrugged with a small smile. “Am I really the only one who thought we were getting Merlin some free time so he could practise his spells?”

There was a moment of quiet, a moment where the lot of them stared around the loose circle they had managed to form, wondering at how they’d somehow all been thinking entirely different things and yet, in a way, had ended up in the same place. 

They were all there because they were trying to help Merlin, in some way or another. Because Merlin was their friend. 

(Even though, of course, out of all of them—Gwaine knew Merlin best.) 

But then, true to form, the silence was shattered as Merlin turned to look at his other half. “They are right though, Arthur,” he said. “I would actually quite like a day off.” 

Arthur turned to stare at him, to say something sharp about George—and then, just like that, Merlin was laughing, and then everyone was laughing, and then everything went back to how it always had been, how it always was. 

Or, well. Very almost. 

Because from that day, Gwaine noticed Merlin’s frequent grins growing brighter, noticed the casual touches he and Arthur must have previously felt a need to hide. He noticed Merlin’s small smile as he lit a fire with a word, the way he no longer seemed to tense when he was asked where he had spent his evening. 

So no, things weren’t quite how they always had been—but they were what they always should be.