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At first, she is amused, instead of wary.
The two men wander around the woods and come upon their camp by chance – she knows they are likely fugitives from Camelot, gods know they all heard the screams even this far away last night. But still, even as fugitives, these two are simpletons; travelling without horses, supplies, anything they could have saved from the fire…
Or, she thinks coyly, after witnessing the blond one shoot a look of utter dependence at the brunett, maybe they were too busy saving each other and the clothes they may have had or not have had on their back.
She would like to keep them around, she thinks, eyeing the sword in the brunett’s – Merlin, he says – grip. He didn’t immediately get scared witless upon meeting her, so she wants to find out more.
***
When Merlin carefully inquires if his friend – putting special emphasis on friend – could travel in the cart, he is talking to Isolde, not Tristan. A wise decision really, as she only regards him with a grin.
He’s trying to keep his beloved safe. He really needs it. Isolde chuckles wrly. Arthur, she believes his name is, is a complete and utter idiot. A charming one, really, which must be the reason Merlin has kept him around in the first place.
The rest must have come later.
She knows these kinds of stories by heart. Her own life is one.
“Sure” she agrees lightly and Merlin’s shoulders sag and he smiles over at Arthur. They must be somewhat new to this, Isolde guesses, judging by how hesitant that smile is.
But Arthur’s own beam leaves nothing to doubt, so she doesn’t.
***
Tristan scowls when she mentions her fascination with the two of them. “Careful, beloved, I’ll get jealous.” She swats his hand away, snorting at the indignant expression on Tristan’s face that morphs into a content one as she eases into his arms.
“I’m just saying, it’s almost like seeing ourselves. Young and inexperienced.” She laces their fingers together. “On the run after an unfortunate entanglement…”
Tristan’s eyes gleam seriously in the firelight. “It was the most fortunate entanglement of my life.” He kisses her hand and she stares at him, mind overtaken by how much she never wants to be parted from this one person, how she always wants to stay with Tristan and how lucky she is to be here right now.
“I know,” she replies softly. “Mine too.” She leans in and captures his lips for a longer, sweeter kiss, that somehow turns more heated.
And then, Tristan gives her a look that has all thoughts of others leaving her head.
***
Isolde awakes easily. It’s partly a perk of being in this kind of a business for long, but the whispered arguing a few trees away certainly helps.
She goes about breaking camp and packing up, just like everyone else, but she pays special attention to this conversation. It’s not a surprise to see Merlin being one participant, all his questions and replies so far have shown a hidden edge beneath his innocent looks – but to see Arthur with such scorn on his face is unusual. Not at all like the simpleton he had been just a day before.
Her hackles rise at this sudden flip. She lingers by Tristan’s side, to share her concerns with him, “Something’s different about Arthur.” Her tone has him stopping and actually listening, instead of dismissing the man as the idiot they have witnessed before. “Maybe now would be a good time to ask about his sword.”
Tristan looks at her sharply. “His sword?”
Isolde nods. So Tristan hasn’t watched them as intently as she suspected he would, trusting her with the job. It warms her heart. “It’s way too well-made.”
Tristan’s jaw clenches. “We’ll look into it in a moment” he offers smoothly, a beat later.
***
King of Camelot. It makes sense, in a way.
Isolde tries to focus on the fight, but her mind is a little preoccupied with all these thoughts banding together in it. Arthur is different, because – what? He had enough of playing the fool? What is he really to Merlin? Are they actually like Tristan and her or is Merlin the one stupidly devoting his life to a noble king who would never even acknowledge him?
But those looks. Those can’t be faked. She grimaces. Not truly, not so believably as that. Arthur has to be a good man deep inside, if someone like Merlin lov-
The whoever-that-is-fighting her kicks her to the ground and Isolde is going to die, except she won’t, because she cannot, she will not, she would never leave Tristan behind-
Arthur swoops in to save her at the last moment.
Tristan, her caring dumb idiot, who leans over her without a second thought to keep his back covered. Not that, after this small display, Isolde thinks Arthur would not keep the two of them safe. “We had a deal. Partners for life, remember?” He is choking back tears.
She smiles at him. “When have I not kept my promises?” Because right now she doesn’t have a horrible wound, a few hours of rest and she can move her sword arm again.
Tristan presses a kiss on her forehead and she leans into the touch, shutting her eyes for a brief moment. In that one blink of an eye, the world is at peace.
Then Arthur proposes they leave and Tristan, her ever fight-ready Tristan immediately snaps. It’s one of his qualities that Isolde loves, no matter how much grief it sometimes causes. Tristan is just trying to protect what’s dear to him.
Still, she trusts Arthur. And she likes Merlin.
And she has yet to figure the two of them out, so they must continue on with them.
***
Merlin turns out to be a physician. “Just an apprentice,” he corrects, when treating her wounds.
“Well, you still manage well for yourself” Isolde brings up, eyes flickering over to where Tristan and Arthur are both doing camp chores, resolutely as far away from each other as possible.
Merlin follows her line of sight. “Oh, you mean Arthur? I dunno, with the amount of times he almost dies, you think I would get better at my work.” Despite his words, his grumbling doesn’t cut off his concentration. Isolde smirks.
“I disagree,” she says easily. Merlin offers her a shy, startled smile. “But I didn’t talk about your medical abilities.” She keeps an eye on him and the slowly spreading red tint of his cheeks.
“I- You must have misunderstood.” Merlin glances away, at her wound. “He… He has someone waiting for him. They love each other. It’s True Love.” He sounds as if he has repeated this mantra over and over again. Like he is trying to get himself to believe it.
She extends her healthy hand, carefully gripping his arm. “Never give up hope. Love is stronger than anything,” she advises. Merlin peers up at her, with the face of someone who has already given up.
“Believe me” she stresses, inclining her head at Tristan. “If we could find each other… Why can’t you?”
“He’s the king,” Merlin mutters, eyes downwards again. “Even if he were inclined towards… Men” he finally spats it out, as if it were a curse word. Maybe in Camelot, it is, Isolde thinks, tilting her head in pity. “Why would he choose me? He can have anyone.”
“You don’t notice the way he looks at you” Isolde claims calmly. If this is the last thing she ever manages to get done, then good. Love is worth it. “Neither does he notice the way you look at him.” Merlin’s ears are red. “You should tell him” she urges one last time, before Tristan is beside her.
“Sleep?” he offers and she nods, granting a small ‘Thank you’ to Merlin.
Tristan looks her over once, expression souring. “You really like them, don’t you?”
Her eyes practically glitter in the building firelight. “What can I say? We may never have children, but picking up and uniting stray lovers is an art much more intricate than parenting.”
Tristan sighs, but smiles when she beams at him. “I don’t like Arthur.”
“He makes Merlin happy though” she raises the point. She knows Tristan never really understood her fascination with other people, but to have him still indulge her… There is no one she would rather stay beside. “So, give him a chance.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That is enough for me.” She winks and he gently lowers them down onto the ground, rolling his eyes a bit. She bites his ears for it, which has him stifling a moan. They have an audience, which usually wouldn’t bother Isolde, but she has the feeling Merlin and Arthur's relationship would get farther that night if she didn’t accidentally reopen her bandage.
***
Gwen seems like a lovely woman and Isolde hates the very sight of Merlin’s face when he introduces her to them. Especially, when he directs her to Arthur.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” she questions, stepping out after him. Merlin is half-way toward his mother, but he falters and turns back to her.
“I told you, Isolde. They are meant to be.” His face scrunches up, saying the words. She huffs out a breath. How could someone bring such misery upon themselves?
“Merlin-”
He holds up a hand. “I wasn’t done yet.” She leans against the doorframe, arms crossing, jaw strutted out. Merlin is supposed to be like her, he is supposed to seize the chance and get his man! “They make each other happy. Do you know how over the moon Arthur was, when they were planning their wedding?” No, she doesn’t, but since neither of them wear rings, nor are there any talks about a Queen of Camelot, things clearly didn’t work out.
She says so, which only has Merlin clenching his knuckles. “Isolde.” His voice holds the air of something threatening, despite the tearful glint of his eyes. “Please stop.”
She falls back, for now, letting him go. Tristan comes out from behind her, wrapping her in a hug. “Not everyone is like us” he murmurs into her hair, but she knows they are. They being Merlin and Arthur, not Gwen.
“But they are just like us, Tristan” she faces him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I just have to make them see.”
Tristan watches her with exasperation. “Only you, beloved.” He shakes his head. “Fine, go ahead.”
She snorts. “I didn’t need your permission.” She bops his nose. “But thanks, beloved.”
Tristan grins at her and for a moment, it is enough to drown out the screaming that has started up.
***
Isolde marches uneasily inside the cave. Merlin left them for the second time and while she trusts his abilities to heal, she is not that convinced about his ability to fight…
Arthur seems to be nearing the end of his rope as well, spinning on his heel after a turn. He listens intently, not even hearing Tristan’s question. “Merlin” he says and his steps gain a new spring to them.
Tristan lets her go then, positioning himself in front of Arthur. “He knows the tunnels. He'll find his way.” There is such confusion in his tone that Isolde cannot hide her smile. She was right!
Arthur fixes her beloved with a stare. “I'm going back.” He is determinedly walking past all three of them the next moment. Isolde looks after him, feeling like a proud mother.
“For a servant?” Tristan asks her, and she just looks back at him, because she told him they weren’t just a king and his servant.
“You're wrong about him.” Gwen says as well, watching Arthur go. She doesn't seem like she has any intention of stopping him. Isolde wonders how often this must have happened, even while Gwen was supposedly the one in a courtship with Arthur.
“You are,” she agrees, casually letting her back be supported by the stone. Tristan gapes at her at first, before a well-known amusement crosses his face. “Come on, let’s get ahead while they find each other.” The brief break helps her, but fresh air would be much better for her wounds. Gwen doesn’t even try to argue and Tristan comes to support her again at once. “One would think I am grievously harmed,” she jokes. Tristan’s hold tightens on her.
“Under my watch? Never.” The darkness returns to his gaze. “I would die first.”
She nudges him with her boots. “No, I would. But it’s really not a competition.” They are slow and she can hear two pairs of footsteps behind them. Her face lightens up. “Look who immediately found each other!”
Gwen is the one glancing back wryly and that’s when Isolde really knows; Gwen is aware of her lost chance. And the one she inadvertently gave Merlin.
Isolde’s eyes narrow. She just has to make sure Gwen knows about Merlin and Arthur. Just a friendly little talk between two women.
***
Well, it is only mostly friendly and definitely not little.
Arthur walked away upset and Gwen went right on his heels. Now, burnt from verbal heat, she returns to the fire, tearfully.
Isolde never stops sharpening her knife. “He sent you away, saying that he doesn’t care for you anymore, hasn’t he?”
Gwen dabs at her eyes hurriedly. “I’m sorry, but it’s none of your business.”
Isolde makes eye contact with her for a brief moment. “I find that it is.” The others are all far away, Tristan gathering more firewood and Merlin going after Arthur this time. She dips her head their way. “Were they always like this?”
Gwen takes, what must seem to her as a change of topics, in stride. “Yes. They have a very special bond.” She doesn't even seem to realise her own words. “No one can come between them.”
Isolde leans forward. At this point, she is genuinely curious and fully invested. “Then why are you?”
Gwen rears back in horror. “I am not!”
Denial. Typical, except she really doesn’t seem to be aware of things. Isolde hums. “But you are.” She inspects her knife some more, weighing it in her hand. It’s all a show at this point, but she was always one for dramatics. “You know, when I first met them, I believed them to be fugitive newlyweds, or at least about to be-s.” She chances a look at Gwen. “My opinion still hasn’t changed.”
Gwen blows out some air. “I… Even when courting me, Arthur said he dreamed about leaving Camelot and living far away on a farm. With just Merlin.” She glances back at Isolde and despite her intentions for this young woman, her heart clenches at the sight of fresh tears. “I never… I never really thought about that. About how he never included me.”
“Yes, you did.” Isolde puts down her knife, speaking softly.
“I did.” Gwen hangs her head, burying her face in her hands. “Why am I trying to come between them? Arthur told me I would never be good enough for him again.” Her voice keeps breaking and her shoulders are shaking. Isolde sits closer and snakes an arm over her back.
“Let it all out,” she advises. “You never had anywhere else to go after Camelot?”
Gwen shakes her head.
“Nor any friends?” she prods further, an idea forming in her mind.
“All- all of them are in Camelot,” Gwen rasps out. “Or as good as dead.” Isolde refrains from asking about the latter group. For now.
“And what do you want to do with your life?”
Gwen stills at such a simple question as this. “I… I don't know.”
Isolde raises her eyebrows. How can she not know? “Really? No goals, no anything you want to achieve, places to visit, skills to master?” Gwen keeps shaking her head. Isolde’s resolve grows. “Then why don’t you come with us?”
“Huh?” Gwen blinks at her in poorly concealed asthonistment. “With you and Tristan?”
“Yes.” She nods. “We have just lost our own jobs, our workers. We have to find our standing in the world again.” Because they kind of have to, especially since Arthur is still the king and now he knows about their smuggling activities. “A pair of hands, ready for work, is exactly what we need.” Not to mention Isolde likes to keep company around. Not that she would ever grow bored with Tristan, but…
Gwen dries some of her tears. “Do you mean that?” She is whispering and Isolde is glad she is sitting so close otherwise she wouldn’t hear.
“Of course I do.” She beams. “We can even find the something you want to do with your life!”
Gwen offers her a hesitant, but bright smile. “That sounds nice.”
Isolde is glad she says that, because convincing Tristan of her wonderful ideas when her beloved is still strung up about trying to figure out Arthur is going to be a trip.
***
Gwen looks like a weight is getting thrown off her shoulder when they announce that she is staying with them. Merlin seems perplexed at first, but quickly offers up a ‘congratulations’. Arthur stares into the fire for a few long moments, before also nodding and grumbling his own platitudes. Isolde rolls her eyes at his attitude, but winks at Gwen and makes the other woman giggle. Arthur glances up in surprise and their gazes meet; however Gwen is poised now, at peace. She stares him down and Isolde is proud once again.
Arthur looks away first, now a smile stretching his lips. It grows when he sees Merlin, and Isolde pokes Tristan’s side to get him to pay attention to little details like this.
Tristan does so, and only scowls a little bit.
Isolde calls this progress.
***
But what turns out to be the ultimate progress is Tristan coming up with the idea to fight beside Arthur.
“You have seen them, they have little to no chance.” Tristan opens his arms wide. “And yet, they are still going. He is still going and he is going to be leading them.”
Isolde watches him with a smirk. “So you finally found him worthy of following?”
Tristan wrinkles his nose at her phrasing, but ultimately, nods. “He didn’t deserve my scorn,” he admits quietly. “I would like to repay him.” Moments like this are when she is falling in love again.
Isolde steps closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. “And I think that if his and Merlin’s love story is going to be anything like ours, they need help staying alive.” She catches his eyes. “I’m in.”
Tristan’s beam mirrors her own and she kisses him fervently.
“I was right” she whispers against his lips.
“You always are,” he replies, burying his hands in her hair. At last, they separate. “Let’s go, meet up with the others,” he says and she can only nod in agreement.
They step up to Arthur as they always are; side by side, united.
Isolde spies Merlin leaving Arthur just before they are there to talk to him – and Merlin is smiling.
Oh, yes, she was right, she thinks again, eyes finding Gwen as well, in the process of arming herself. And she did right by her instincts.