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A road trip with Gwaine was, Leon had to admit, quite good fun.
For one thing, even by Gwaine’s standards, his boyfriend was in a pretty good mood. Ever since they’d left the Duke of Gloucester’s wonderful stately home (and Leon didn’t really want to dwell on that too much because there was still a huge chance he’d made the wrong decision) Gwaine hadn’t been able to stop grinning.
He’d even stopped at the Waitrose in Abergavenny and let Leon stock up on whatever supplies he fancied, which meant Leon had got his favourite smoked salmon sandwiches and a bottle of fizz. Gwaine had found a coffee machine where apparently people with a store card could have free coffee. It was a little disturbing to Leon, who had until that point been quite proud of his Waitrose card. Worse, Gwaine grabbed the card and queued up at customer services to get an empty paper cup, then queued up again so that he could fill it up with a lukewarm latte at the machine. It was pathetic the lengths he’d go to in order to get a freebie. He then followed Leon around drinking the free coffee (in the shop! The shame!) and pointing out items from the Essentials range that he thought Leon should be purchasing.
It was disappointing really. Gwaine hadn’t been keen to talk about his home life, but growing up as the son of a duke’s housekeeper would, Leon thought, have given Gwaine a taste for the better things in life. Instead he had grown up (allegedly, as Leon did sometimes wonder) into a bargain-hunting cheapskate with a thing for Asda. Leon watched as Gwaine started to rifle through the trolley near the bakery that held all the reduced stuff. When Leon’s mother found that Leon had thrown away the chance to possibly take up with the Duke of Gloucester (his mother’s favourite royal, apparently) and settled for Gwaine of all people… Leon didn’t really want to think about what she would do.
Perhaps Gwaine’s mother could obtain an autographed photo of her employer for Leon’s mother. That might possibly appease her very slightly. She could add it to her collection.
Leon had never been allowed near his mother’s collection of royal memorabilia. It was in its own room in the over-large house she’d obtained in the divorce from Leon’s father. There were cups and plates and commemorative thimbles in there, along with carefully-arranged scrapbooks. Several of those scrapbooks were of the Duke of Gloucester, apparently. Leon had always been kept well away from them, but he was going to have a good look through when he got home just to make sure he really did prefer Gwaine.
Gwaine’s mobile was ringing again. Leon saw him glance at it, then turn it off. He knew it was Arthur. Gwaine had set it up with a distinct ringtone – it played God Save the King every time Arthur called. Arthur hated that, so Gwaine did it all the more. Leon wondered why the prince put up with him. And it was the third time Arthur had tried to call since they left Gloucester.
“Shouldn’t you answer that?” he asked. “He is the Prince of Wales. And you know, we are actually in Wales now.”
“Thought that was Merlin’s job,” Gwaine smirked. “Get it?” He didn’t make any effort to ring Arthur back but laughed loudly at his own crude joke.
Leon would have rung Arthur himself, except in his rush to escape home before his mother met Gwaine properly and started crying, he’d forgotten his mobile. It was probably just as well, his mother would only have rung and texted him by now to ask who on earth that dreadful scarecrow was that he was dating and hadn’t she brought him up better than that? No, being phoneless was probably rather a good thing.
“But it might be important,” Leon persisted.
“I’ll put it on silent,” Gwaine told him. As if not being able to hear Arthur call would make it better. “He’ll only be asking us to cut our holiday short to do whatever he’s come up with. He’s probably short of a couple of players for something. That’s what it usually is.”
Leon felt a brief twinge of envy at that last line. Gwaine, son of a servant to the Duke of Gloucester, had such a good relationship with Arthur and just didn’t appreciate it at all. Leon would quite happily have cut the holiday short. After all, it wasn’t as if tents and groundsheets were going to be particularly comfortable. Wherever Arthur was would probably have luxurious beds and all possible comforts.
“I don’t mind…” he began, but Gwaine had already dumped his bargains in the trolley and was heading for the snacks section, not listening.
Sighing heavily, Leon followed him.
---
The holiday, actually, wasn’t bad.
Leon was shocked to admit it, but by the end of the second day he was really enjoying himself. The weather held, the views were amazing, and being alone with Gwaine wasn’t awful. Particularly at night it wasn’t awful at all. Given the time of year and the unpredictable weather they were the only tent pitched there for the first two nights and had the place to themselves. It wasn’t the Mediterranean with the crown prince and his entourage, but it was still pretty good. The site allowed campfires and Gwaine, who evidently had been there before, had hired an ice box and bought food for barbeques, plenty of beer (well, it was Gwaine) and marshmallows to toast over the fire.
The problem was, Leon realised, that he did actually care about Gwaine. He’d discovered it to his horror when Gwaine had forced him to choose between Gwaine (with all his horrible habits) and the Duke of Gloucester (who, although handsome and rich, Leon had never met). Leon still wasn’t quite sure why he’d chosen Gwaine. The sex though, since Leon had made that choice, had been amazing. Gwaine had changed somehow. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been loving and considerate before (which had always surprised Leon because it was Gwaine), but since Leon had chosen him over royalty Gwaine had been different.
Perhaps it was just being on holiday? Perhaps Gwaine really had missed him while off with Arthur and his friends? Perhaps it was sitting there, just the two of them under the night sky, drinking beer and eating toasted marshmallows? Perhaps it was the huge range of things Gwaine had come up with for them to do? Leon had drawn the line at hang-gliding because he didn’t particularly want to die, but the canoeing was fun, and the hiking, and the trip on the mountain railway, and the day they hired mountain bikes…
“Enjoying yourself?” Gwaine had asked on the fourth day as they stood at the peak of Pen Y Fan and gazed out over much of Wales. The scenery was breathtaking.
“Oh yes,” Leon admitted without even thinking. Gwaine’s delighted grin was huge. It was going to make it really difficult to complain about missing the Mediterranean thing.
“I’ve signed us up for Pony trekking at the weekend. Don’t worry, they aren’t flying horses…”
Gwaine was not funny. Just because Leon had made a small involuntary squeak of horror when Gwaine had suggested hang gliding and apparently produced his best OMG face ever, there were now flying jokes whenever Gwaine could sneak one in.
“Did they have those on that cruise you went on without me?” Leon attempted.
“We had to fly out there, you know?”
“Shut up. Aeroplanes are fine. Human kites, not so much.”
Gwaine just smirked. “Arthur was talking about another one in the summer. You can come on that. Hey, you could pretend to be Arthur’s boyfriend this time. Throw the press off the scent. And I guarantee you will never, ever want to do that again.”
Leon doubted that. Still, it sounded fun. “Will that duke be there? Mordred, did you say his name was?”
The grin faded from Gwaine’s face. “I thought we’d got past that.”
“Yes, but if someone said something…” Leon didn’t want to admit it, but he was embarrassed. When he’d looked at the picture again he had realised he was only really drawn to Gwaine. It was almost as if he were in love with him or something, but that was ridiculous. Gwaine was his fun university relationship and that was all. Gwaine would get fed up with him soon enough.
“Ah. Well, we’re the only ones who know. And I’m not going to be telling people my boyfriend fancied that miserable git, am I? Besides, he’s not a duke, he’s just a friend of Morgana’s from her uni.”
“But the caption said…” Leon was confused.
“That caption was wrong, or misleading anyway.” Gwaine paused, then looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you. I wanted to wait until after the holiday but… what’s that?”
There was the sound of an animal crying out in distress, a little below them. A lamb had somehow got itself into a little hollow on the side of the peak and was bleating pathetically. It didn’t seem to be able to get itself out again.
Whatever Gwaine was going to tell him was forgotten as they both spent much of the next hour rescuing the poor little thing, and by the time they were done the only thing they were thinking about was how soon they could get back to the campsite for food and beer. Gwaine, as always, claimed he was starving.
---
The following day they headed into the nearby small market town Talgarth to replenish their supplies.
There was no phone signal at the campsite, or out on the Brecons. As a result, Gwaine’s phone bleeped incessantly with incoming texts and missed messages as soon as they were in the town.
“You go on,” Gwaine told him. “I suppose I’d better check this lot.”
Leon left him to it. After all, if Gwaine was going to be sent to the tower for ignoring the Prince of Wales, he didn’t want any part of it. He’d visit, obviously.
There was a little newsagents next to the small supermarket, so Leon popped in there first to get a paper. The supermarket probably wouldn’t have as good a range, and Leon liked to buy the posher papers.
The shop was empty, aside from a friendly-looking woman behind the counter who greeted him as soon as he entered, then gave a little gasp of surprise.
“Oh!” The woman beamed at Leon. “It’s you, isn’t it? From the paper.”
Leon had never been in the paper in his life. Well, apart from a small mention when he was part of the chess club at school and they’d come second in the regional finals. But he very much doubted that was it. “I’m sorry, Madam, you must be mistaken.”
“No… No, it is you.” She looked around behind the counter, then brought out a paper. “We’re supposed to send them all back but I keep a few of these for lining the hamster’s cage. It was a few days ago. Here, yes, that’s you, isn’t it?”
Leon looked at the front page of the paper. Then he stared. It was indeed him. It was the photo of him with Arthur, the one the photographer had taken just as Gwaine and Merlin were driving off on holiday a few weeks ago. He’d wondered why it hadn’t appeared earlier. His mother would be so proud.
Except she wouldn’t, because of the context. There was a small picture of Merlin, and another of Gwaine, and then over the top of the lot was a huge, glaring headline. “Prince Arthur’s Secret Lover! Exclusive!” Apparently pages 2-5 had all the details, with a photo spread on pages 6-7.
“Oh my god…” Leon flicked through the offending pages. There were pictures of Merlin on the holiday, someone had managed to get blurry, long-range shots of him with Arthur that were clearly taken when the two of them thought they were alone. There was even a shot of Gwaine going into what was supposed to be the royal suite and Arthur sneaking into the room Gwaine was supposed to be sharing with Merlin.
Trust Gwaine to screw it all up.
“Did you not know?” the woman asked. “It’s been all over the news. The prince and his boyfriend have gone into hiding. Bit mean really, the poor lad was in tears. And Prince Arthur punched a cameraman!”
Leon looked over at the newspaper rack to the side of the till. The headline on every single one of the red tops, and one or two of the more sensible papers as well, related to Arthur and Merlin.
“There’s been no phone signal, we’ve been camping up on the Brecons,” Leon explained. He was still skim-reading the two-day old paper.
“Ah, with the duke?” the woman sighed. “That’s lovely.”
“No, with Gwaine,” Leon said absently. “This is him…” He paused, and looked at the photo of Gwaine more closely. “Oh my god… The lying bastard!”
‘Prince Arthur’s close friend Prince Gwaine, Duke of Gloucester, was unavailable for comment.’
Leon stared at the paper, then at the woman behind the till, then at the paper again.
Gwaine was the Duke of Gloucester. That was what the caption on the photo had meant. Mordred was just one of the university friends. Gwaine of all people was an actual prince! Leon was shagging royalty after all, but it was a lying, cheating, deceitful member of the royal family who didn’t appreciate his good fortune and slopped around and misbehaved and shopped at Asda!
‘…but it was the duke who tipped us off, telling his boyfriend “As far as the world knows, Arthur’s just on holiday with a few friends from uni. They probably think Merlin’s my boyfriend!”’
Leon could remember Gwaine saying it. And he’d said it to Leon. Oh god, they were both going to be sent to the tower and executed for this. Not that it was Leon’s fault, he wasn’t the one with the big mouth and loud voice.
“Can I take this?” Leon asked. “And some of the others. Have you got any left from yesterday? And the worst of todays?”
“Oh yes, of course. Well. It’s not every day we’re the first with the news out here! And celebrities in my little shop…” She trotted out to the back of the shop again, and he could hear her rustling around out there.
Leon quickly glanced outside. Gwaine was on the phone, looking a little worried. Leon could guess who was on the other end and what they were telling him. But he wouldn’t rush out there just yet. He would give Gwaine a few minutes, and consider how he was going to handle the huge lies and deceit. Instead he carried on reading.
The article went on to give a brief mention that Gwaine was dating him, and then just carried on talking about Arthur and Merlin. Merlin’s relatively poor background, single mother and general unsuitability for the role of prince consort were all explored in detail (on pages 2-3). There was nothing about Arthur punching anyone, but Leon supposed that was a recent development to look forward to in some of the later papers. Indeed, when the shopkeeper handed over a small rainforest’s worth of newspaper, there was Arthur on the front page of the top one looking furious.
“Are you sure you want all of these?” the woman asked hesitantly as she started to ring in the stack of papers. It was probably her biggest sale of the day, but it was rather overkill. But Leon was used to buying lots of papers for a big royal story. When the king had briefly got engaged to that Countess Catrina a few years back, Leon’s mother had made him go down and buy a copy of every single newspaper for her. This was far, far bigger. He dreaded to think of how many she would have bought this time. She’d probably already opened a scrapbook for Merlin.
“I need to see what’s been written,” he told her importantly. “I expect that’s Arthur that Gwaine’s talking to on the phone right now. We’re all very good friends.”
Except he was going to kill Gwaine. And Arthur, because he knew too. In fact the pair of them had probably been having a laugh at Leon’s expense for months. It made him feel a little ill just thinking about it. Not very good friends at all.
The woman looked suitably impressed, anyway. “Well I think it’s lovely. He’s a Welsh lad, you know, the one Arthur’s chosen? Comes from Ealdor, not far from here. We’re all very proud.”
And Merlin probably knew what Gwaine was doing too. Leon had thought he was a fairly decent, kind sort of chap. Evidently he was just as bad as the rest of them. It was horribly disappointing.
“Arthur’s what he deserves,” Leon told her, handing over payment. His words made her smile widen even further, not understanding his meaning. “Thank you for your help.”
“Pleasure! Any time! Bring the duke in next time, he’s my favourite!”
Leon just smiled and nodded as he left, not trusting himself to speak. Gwaine, apparently, was everyone’s favourite. No wonder his mother had looked so stunned when he’d turned up. If only Leon had let her serve up the lemon drizzle cake, she would have revealed Gwaine’s identity and Leon would have at least been spared some humiliation.
He was so glad he’d left his phone at home. There were going to be a lot of calls from her. He was quite sure he didn’t want to hear the messages, not yet. Instead he was going to have to face her at some point. But first he had to face Gwaine.
Gwaine was still at the car. He was still on the phone as well, looking harassed and worried, and running his free hand through his hair. It was the same gesture he used when he had an essay due the next morning and hadn’t even started it and please Leon, help me, I’ll make it so worth your while…
Leon wouldn’t be helping him this time. As he approached the car, Gwaine rang off.
“Something’s happened…”
Leon held up the pile of papers, Arthur’s angry face prominent on the top one. “I know. I told you that you should’ve answered the phone.”
Gwaine did a double take at the sight of the huge newspaper pile, then shook his head and continued. “Merlin and Arthur are hiding out at Gloucester House. Mum’s looking after them. The press are all over the grounds though. Arthur’s asked us to pick up Merlin’s mum and bring her there. She’s not protected by palace security and she’s getting a lot of harassment. Sorry. We could come back tomorrow, if you wanted to?”
Leon did not want to. He wanted to get as far away from the lying, cheating duke as he possibly could. But Merlin had mentioned his mother a couple of times, she sounded homely and kind. It wasn’t her fault all this had happened.
“Let’s just pack up and go.”
“We were having a great time.”
“Rescuing Merlin’s mother is more important,” Leon told him. He flung the papers onto the back seat, intending reading them on the journey home. It would save him having to talk to Gwaine. “Let’s go.” He sat in the front, and belted up.
“You’re being really great about this,” Gwaine told him, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Let’s just get everything from the campsite, then pick up Merlin’s mother and go home,” Leon said. “I need to spend a bit of time at home studying anyway.”
“I’ll… ah. It’ll be easier if I pick up Merlin’s mother then drop you off at your home. Otherwise you’ll have the paps after you as well, wanting to know what you know!”
“And I know all sorts of things,” Leon agreed darkly. Gwaine glanced at him worriedly for a moment, then back at the road ahead.
“You wouldn’t sell? You wouldn’t do that to Arthur and Merlin, would you?”
It was an idea. But it wasn’t as if Leon was short of money. When his father left them, his mother had secured a large divorce settlement and an allowance for Leon on top. They were very comfortable.
“My mother would never forgive me.”
He saw Gwaine’s grip whiten slightly on the wheel at the mention of Leon’s mother. Leon’s mother, who had an entire scrapbook of pictures of Leon’s boyfriend. A scrapbook Leon had never bothered looking at.
“I’ve probably got a few messages from her. I should listen to them once we’re back in civilisation. We did rather rush off.”
Gwaine did look very worried at that. Leon let him stew for a moment, then rummaged around in his jacket pocket, pretending to look for his phone. His phone was still at home on his bed where he’d left it, but Gwaine seemed to have forgotten that in his panic.
“No! Wait a minute!”
Leon wasn’t sure he should be doing this while Gwaine was driving, but it was a quiet enough road and they would be back at the campsite in a matter of minutes anyway. “What?” he asked innocently.
“Your mother… she… you said she’s a big fan of the royals.”
“Loves them.”
“And… the Duke of Gloucester… you said he’s her favourite?”
“She has several scrapbooks on him. Never seen them, she always cut out any pictures long before I’d get to look at the paper. I suppose that’s why I thought he was your friend Mordred,” he added.
“Mordred’s not my friend. Miserable little git. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him that dropped Arthur and Merlin in it.”
“It wasn’t. It was the real duke that did it.”
The car actually swerved slightly, though there was nothing on the road. Gwaine gave him a very worried glance. “What?”
Calmly, Leon reached over to the back seat and fetched the paper that he had read in the shop and quoted from it.
‘It was the duke who tipped us off, telling his boyfriend: “As far as the world knows, Arthur’s just on holiday with a few friends from uni. They probably think Merlin’s my boyfriend!”’ He paused. “There are pictures. Lots of them. Mum’s going to need a new book.”
Gwaine stopped the car at the side of the road and grabbed the paper from him. “Oh god!”
“Yes. It’s just a question of who’s the angriest with you, really. The Prince of Wales, or the Duke of Gloucester’s ex-boyfriend.” Leon folded his arms and glared at Gwaine.
“Leon… don’t be like that. I’m sorry, I was going to tell you. I was starting to tell you yesterday, before we found that stupid sheep. But look, isn’t this what you wanted? You’re so into royalty and princes and dukes and things, and now you’ve got one.”
“Had one,” Leon corrected. “Past tense. We’re through. So you and Arthur and Merlin, and whoever else is in on it, can go and have a good laugh at how long you fooled me for. And I want you out when we get back to uni. Find another roommate.”
“Leon, please…”
“Can we go now?”
Gwaine was looking at him pleadingly. He really did look genuinely upset and hurt. But that was probably just another trick, another lie. Leon knew that if he gave in he’d just be letting Gwaine get away with it. He should have known all along. Gwaine had tormented him so much before they’d got together.
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” Gwaine attempted. “And Arthur definitely wasn’t, he said I was being stupid. Actually, Merlin said I was being stupid, Arthur just agreed with him. Merlin was going to tell you himself if I didn’t do it over the break. And Mum wasn’t happy with me at all either, she likes you. She was so angry about me nearly making her take you into the house and show you my official portrait. Lots of messages from her too.”
Leon felt a little reassured that at least he’d judged Merlin and Mrs Greene… no, the Dowager Duchess of Gloucester correctly. He wasn’t entirely convinced about Arthur though. He was too Gwaine-like. “So, why did you do it?”
Gwaine shrugged. “You would’ve treated me differently if you’d known. I don’t want that. If we’d got together it would have been because you wanted what I was, not actually me at all. That’s happened to me too many times. I loved that you were only with me because it was me, no other reason. I didn’t want to spoil it. Please, Leon, give me another chance. I never actually lied to you.”
And that was just another one as far as Leon was concerned. “You lied to me every single day,” he told him. “And I know you, how you laugh at everyone and everything. I’m not stupid, and I’m not being the butt of your jokes for another minute. We are finished. Drop me at Gloucester train station on your way home, I’ll find my own way back from there.”
“I’m 22nd in line to the throne, if that helps?”
It was like the most tempting and attractive thing ever and the git probably knew it, but Leon was going to be strong.
“It doesn’t,” was all Leon said. “Let’s go.”
“What about I love you?”
Well, despite the little hitch in Gwaine’s voice as he said it, Leon knew that was just crap. You didn’t lie to or take the piss out of people you loved, not on that sort of scale. Probably Arthur and Gwaine’s whole football team were laughing at him. So Leon didn’t say anything, he let his silence speak for itself. Gwaine gave a heavy sigh, then started the engine again and drove slowly towards the field where their tent was pitched.
“I guess I’ll cancel the pony trekking then?”
Leon still didn’t say anything. He wondered if there was a closer train station than Gloucester. It was going to be a long drive home.
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