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Chapter Text

Just my luck, he thought as the rain started to fall. He watched intently as it slowly began to fall harder and harder, beating against his skin and slowly washing the blood from his skin. But as quickly as it did, the wound in his thigh just bled more.

Arthur knew he needed to stop the bleeding, but he was so tired. It was an effort just to lift his head to watch the rain washing away the blood, and it was much more comfortable to just lay there on the forest floor, waiting for unconsciousness to seep in. It was rather cold and his chainmail was getting uncomfortable, but there wasn't much he could do about that, so why worry about it?

The rain was rather soothing, anyway. The sound of the droplets hitting the leaves and moss around him was peaceful to listen to. He'd always liked the rain. He remembered sitting in his room at his desk, sipping tea and watching the rain fall across Camelot.

Ugh, rain? Really. He was bleeding out, the future king of Camelot, bleeding to death and he was just lying around letting it happen? He had people relying on him; a whole kingdom relying on him for heaven's sake. He needed to get up. But his head hurt...and he wouldn't be able to walk for long on his wounded leg...

He debated back and forth with himself, mostly to just distract himself from the pain. Did he have a concussion? Was that why it was so hard to get up? Maybe. Blinking spots and raindrops from his eyes, he tried to sit up.

Bad idea, very bad idea. His head spun; it felt like his skull was imploding in on his brain. He groaned, nausea roiling in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw against the nausea.

"Just like you to be laying around on the job," an all too familiar voice spoke up from nearby.

Arthur opened his eyes to see Gwaine walking towards him, soaking wet but otherwise fine as far as Arthur could see.

"And you call yourself the prince," he shook his head, crouching next to Arthur. "Really, I expected better."

"Shut up," was all Arthur could manage in the way of a witty retort.

Gwaine's expression grew more serious as he noticed Arthur's state.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

Arthur swallowed his pride and shook his head reluctantly shook his head. "I can't, my leg—"

"That's alright, I'll help," Gwaine said.

He took Arthur's arm and helped him sit up, then get to his feet.

"I'll just find us some shelter," Gwaine grunted. "Get us out of that rain and we'll take a look at your leg. Just don't even think about trying to pass out on me or anything in the meantime. Got it, princess?"

Arthur nodded dazedly. Gwaine didn't need a response to keep talking, however. Not only was he not one for silence, but he knew he needed to make sure Arthur didn't pass out.

"Although you may be a princess, you aren't exactly dainty, if you don't mind my saying so," he continued, then yelped as Arthur slipped and nearly took them both to the ground. "Are you listening to me? I said no passing out."

"I'm not...passing out," Arthur replied. "I'm alright."

"Yeah, I can see that," Gwaine scoffed.

They continued to pick their way through the forest. It was slow work as Gwaine had to practically carry Arthur. That and the rain wasn't making things any easier. The sound of clinking chainmail had never bothered Arthur before but now it was driving him crazy as it only worsened his headache.  Finally, they stumbled across a cave they had passed on their patrol earlier in the day.

Gwaine staggered through the mouth of the cave, helping Arthur to sit down. He leaned back against the cool wall of the cave, letting his head hang back against the wall. Arthur felt oddly shaky and weak and his head still ached terribly.

"Hey, hey," Gwaine snapped his fingers in front of Arthur's face. "Laying down on the job I might excuse but not falling asleep, we're still technically on patrol. You don't get to nap until you get back to your castle."

"I'm the prince," Arthur rasped. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

"Yeah I do," Gwaine smirked, shrugging off his chainmail. "Unless you want me to tell the rest of the knights how I found you lying around while we were being attacked by bandits."

"That...that is not what happened," Arthur shifted, trying to get comfortable.

"If you say so."

"I do," Arthur mumbled, wishing Gwaine would shut up and let him rest.

But Gwaine had no intention of letting him rest, as it turned out.

"This is gonna hurt a bit, but I've gotta stop the bleeding, alright?" Gwaine said as he used a wad of shirt to press against Arthur's leg.

Arthur hissed as the sudden pressure sent shockwaves of white-hot pain through his leg.

"Sorry," Gwaine winced in sympathy for his friend. "But it's this or bleed to death, your choice."

Arthur cursed under his breath and then glared at Gwaine. "Your bedside manner could stand some improvement."

"Never had much reason to bother polishing up that skillset," Gwaine admitted. "Anyway, I'm saving your life right now—again—are you really going to complain?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well, you must not be as bad off as I thought — you're still as insufferable as ever."

Arthur snorted but didn't have the energy to think up a retort. Anyway, Gwaine had a point, although he wouldn't tell him that.

How did one go about tending to an injured friend in a gentle manner? Gwaine wasn't sure. Bedside manner wasn't his strong suit. He'd spent too much time on his own to be a stellar caretaker, but he was all Arthur had right now so he would have to deal with it.

After a few minutes of applying pressure to the wound, the bleeding had slowed to a near stop, and Gwaine figured it wouldn't hurt to wrap it. He did his best with the rest of his shirt. It didn't look great, but it'd do the job.

"How are you feeling?" Gwaine asked, knowing the question was redundant.

Arthur shrugged.

Gwaine looked out at the forest. It was still raining cats and dogs and he could hear thunder rumbling in the distance. It wouldn't do Arthur any good to try to get home in this weather. They'd have to wait for the storm to pass before traveling. Hopefully by then the other knights would find them, and he wouldn't have to try to get the now partially lame prince back to Camelot on his own.

He shivered, wishing he had some dry wood to make a fire. If his tunic weren't completely soaked, he'd have put that on. Oh well, he'd survived worse than a little rain. He'd be fine. Arthur, on the other hand...he'd probably also be fine if his wound didn't get infected. Gwaine didn't think he'd lost too much blood, there hadn't been a dramatic pool of blood or anything— but it was still worrisome.

Gwaine paced around the cave for a few minutes before sitting down next to Arthur and leaning back against the wall. He was damn near exhausted from fighting the bandits and then having to drag Arthur's sorry ass through a soaking-wet forest.

"You still alive?" he asked, reaching over and nudging Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur grunted, shooting Gwaine a dirty look.

"Good, Merlin would kill me if you died on my watch," Gwaine sighed, running a hand through his wet hair to get it out of his face. "You'll want to start thinking of a story to tell everyone when we get back, one that paints you as the hero, we all know you like that sort of thing."

"Gwaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"No thanks," Gwaine grinned, then sobered slightly. "Wait, what did happen anyway? How did you get separated from the group?"

"I was...uh..." Arthur trailed off, straightening his posture slightly and wincing in pain. "Chasing one of the bandits off into the woods. Well, we'd been fighting and he tried to run. Then I got jumped from behind, and uh...caught off guard."

"How did you manage to get out away?" Gwaine asked, leaning forward and hugging himself to ward off the cold.

"With great valor," Arthur joked dryly. "One of them stabbed me and ran off and the other got scared or something as I was overpowering him and ran off."

"Brilliant work, as usual," Gwaine complimented him. "What happened to your head, though? Concussions aren't a side effect of stabbing, I would know— I've been stabbed quite a bit in my time."

Arthur shot him a slightly concerned look but let the last comment slide. "Well...I might have slipped and hit my head on a rather large rock."

Gwaine barked out a laugh. "Sorry, that must have hurt a great deal."

"You are a jackass," Arthur grumbled.

"I prefer roguishly charming," Gwaine corrected.

"And yet, you are still a jackass. Now shut up, you're making my headache worse."

"Of course, my lord," Gwaine said, in such a sarcastic manner that any other nobleman would have had him whipped.

But Gwaine had started to realize that Arthur was not like any other nobleman. He'd realized that when he'd first met him, of course— but he hadn't fully let himself trust Arthur for quite a while. He'd been let down by people too many times in his life to give away his loyalty and trust so easily. But he'd found that isolating himself from everyone hadn't fixed anything; he'd been lonely and try as he might, drinking didn't fix anything. It was strange, having a home and having friends. True friends who cared about him. He wasn't sure if he was really used to it yet— after all, it had been so long since he had allowed himself to get close to anyone or open up to anyone.

His life had changed so much over the past few months, it had taken him for a whirl. He was grateful, of course, but it was a lot to take in. And Gwaine wasn't the best at taking things in, he was too used to using drink as a way to avoid processing things. Just being knighted had given him an identity crisis; what if he turned into anything that he despised about the nobility? What if he wasn't good enough? What if he let everyone down?

Gwaine heaved a sigh, leaning back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

That's enough of that, he thought. Too much thinking, shut up; now isn't the time. Worry about Arthur.

"Still alive?" he checked in again.

"Shut up," Arthur mumbled again.

"No," Gwaine replied.

They lapsed into silence again, Gwaine checking in every now and again on the injured prince. He got tired of sitting around, despite his sore muscles and bruises from the scuffle earlier, so he paced around the cave. He hated feeling trapped, and for some reason, that's what he felt like as he was stuck in this cave with his lethargic friend and no plausible way of getting back to Camelot without doing Arthur worse harm.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," Lancelot appeared at the entrance of the cave, leading his horse behind him.

Gwaine was startled in surprise from where he'd been standing at the back of a cave, staring down a dark tunnel and wondering what was down there.

"Lancelot, about time!" he exclaimed. "Where've you been?"

"Looking for you two— wait, what's wrong with Arthur?"

"He's alive, I think," Gwaine said, looking up from where he was picking his still damp tunic up from the cave floor. "Arthur, you're alive, are you not?"

"Yes, I am," Arthur groaned. "This madman won't let me rest in peace."

"Good thing, too," Lancelot stooped down next to Arthur. "Is the injury serious?"

"I've had worse," Arthur said, as he tried to stand by using the wall to support his weight. Lancelot was there to catch him though.

"Really, now?" Lancelot raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Gwaine helped Lancelot to carry Arthur over to the horse.

"I don't think the wound is serious," Gwaine assured Lancelot. "He was stabbed, but it's not terribly deep."

"I don't trust your definition of 'not serious'," Lancelot squinted suspiciously over at Gwaine. "You lie about injuries all the time."

"I don't lie, I'm just not as sensitive as you lot, I can take a beating," Gwaine argued.

"You just think you're invincible and refuse to accept help from anyone," Lancelot said. "But in all seriousness, how is—"

"I'm right here, you know," Arthur interjected. "And Gwaine is right, it's not serious— it's not life-threatening. I'll be fine."

"I think I will hold out judgment until Gaius takes a look at you," Lancelot said.

They helped Arthur up onto Lancelot's horse and started the trek home.

After they got to Camelot Gwaine escorted a sluggish Arthur to his room with the help of Merlin while Lancelot went to fetch Gaius. Gwaine stuck around while Gaius checked over Arthur to make sure that Arthur was actually alright. He was, thank God. Gaius informed them that as long as Arthur rested and the wound didn't get infected then he would be fine.

As Gaius started to pack up his medical supplies and leave, Gwaine moved to leave but Arthur stopped him.

"Gwaine, wait," Arthur sat up. "I want to talk to you."

Gwaine turned to face Arthur, a little apprehensive. Had he done something wrong? He couldn't remember, but there was probably something.

"I just wanted to thank you," Arthur said, meeting Gwaine's gaze with solemn eyes. "I owe you my life. Several times over, at this point. I hope that someday I will be able to repay the debt."

"There is no debt," Gwaine waved aside Arthur's thanks good-naturedly. "I swore fealty to you; you have my loyalty."

Although he didn't think he had made the wrong decision in swearing fealty to Arthur, it was a heavy idea. Gwaine wasn't used to being tied down or having anyone lording over him. But he was getting used to it, he thought.

"And more than that," he continued, his serious expression softening. "You're my friend, that's what friends do— help each other. There's no debt to be repaid. I mean, don't get me wrong— you are a bit of a pain, but I suppose you're not all bad."

Arthur scoffed but otherwise ignored Gwaine's attempt at lightening the mood. "I don't know if I ever properly expressed how much it means to me that you swore to me. You never bothered to hide the fact that you hate nobility, so I'm honored that you...well, you get it."

"Yeah, I get it," Gwaine agreed. He never knew what to say in deep conversations like these. "I'm uh...I'm quite honored you consider me worthy to join your ranks."

Did he mean that? Despite his pent-up hatred for most nobility, he found that he did mean it. Nobody had ever really treated him as anything more than a hotheaded drunk until he'd come to Camelot. Until he'd found a place here he hadn't been sure he was anything more than what people perceived him as, but he knew now that he was more than that. Well, not fully, he still doubted himself much more than he'd let on to anyone else. 

"How could I not?" Arthur said, and Gwaine could tell he was being genuine, not just trying to be nice, which wasn't really something Arthur made a habit of anyway.

"Well, you look about ready to pass out, I suppose I'd better let you rest," Gwaine took a step back to the door.

"Right, go clean yourself up. You look a right mess."

"Thanks, you too," Gwaine chuckled as he opened the door, making sure to close it quietly behind him so as not to aggravate Arthur's headache.

Chapter Text

Gwaine had been a mess all morning. He'd had trouble sleeping all week, and last night had been no exception. He'd been so exhausted he hadn't even bothered to visit the tavern; he'd just tried to sleep. He had a hard time sleeping most nights, but lately, it had been worse.

It was at night when his thoughts were the loudest and he was alone with no distractions. And now, not even a view of the sky full of stars to distract himself with. Back when he had been constantly traveling and couldn't find a place to stay at night (which was most of the time) he would pick out the constellations he recognized and create new ones to amuse himself when he couldn't sleep at night. Now, there was just a stone ceiling and a tavern a few minutes away. But it was nice, having a roof over his head and knowing he had a home to return to at the end of each day.

Just now, in the armory, he'd nearly impaled himself on a nearby spear and then almost toppled the rack that held the axes.

"Woah there, little man," Percival said, catching one of the larger axes before it clattered to the floor. "Be careful, these things hurt."

"Really? Never would have guessed," Gwaine muttered.

"Are you alright, Gwaine? You've been...off all morning," Lancelot asked from his spot on the bench where he was putting on his chainmail.

"I'm great," Gwaine replied—very unconvincingly. "Never better."

"You sure about that?" Percival squinted at him disbelievingly. "Because I think you just put your tunic on backward."

Gwaine scowled at him. "I meant to do that."

"Right; of course, you did," Percival held his hands up in surrender. "Don't drop any axes on me, I apologize."

"Shut up, both of you," Gwaine grumbled.

"What's going on down here?" Arthur asked, descending the stairs into the armory.

Arthur had made a quick recovery over the past several weeks and just the day before Gaius had approved him to go about his usual duties as his wound was sufficiently healed.

"Just Gwaine," Percival said.

"We think he's mentally unwell," Lancelot added.

"I'm fine; just a little tired. Is that a crime?" Gwaine snapped, reaching for his sword. He fumbled it and it clattered to the floor (mercifully, it was still in its scabbard).

Gwaine crossed his arms, glaring at the very concerned-looking knights around him.

"Gwaine, maybe you shouldn't—" Lancelot started.

"No, I'm fine, really. I can patrol just fine, sleep or no sleep."

"That...might not be advisable," Percival interjected cautiously.

"There's no shame in taking a day off to rest, everyone has their off days," Arthur said. "Better to rest than make a fatal mistake in the field."

"I don't need to rest; can you lot just lay off? We've got a job to do."

It wasn't often that Gwaine actually got riled up in all seriousness, but everyone could tell that he was on the verge of actually getting angry so they unanimously let the issue rest.

Gwaine was in an unusually quiet mood as they rode out on their patrol. It was partly that he was indeed very exhausted and probably should have taken his friend's advice and rested. But also he felt bad for lashing out at his friends. He knew they were just trying to help him, but something in him balked at the idea of letting that happen. He didn't need help, if he admitted that...then what? That was just something he didn't do; it was easier to keep it that way.

Their patrol was in a part of the forest near some farmland where there was supposedly a band of robbers hiding out. Some locals had been robbed and killed recently and Arthur had decided they needed to investigate sooner rather than later.

It was a cloudy spring day, leftover chill from winter living out the rest of its short life on the wings of a cool breeze. There had been a short rain shower early that morning, making the tall grass of the fields wet, slapping against the horses's legs as they rode through the countryside.

The brisk spring air helped to awaken Gwaine a bit, although exhaustion still weighed down his bones. Maybe he should see Gaius about taking a sleeping tonic, or something.

Arthur held up his hand, signaling the others to stop. He dismounted and ordered the others to tether their horses near the edge of the woods. Before they continued.

"Right, before we go on," Arthur stopped everyone before they went into the woods. "We're getting close to where Leon thinks the band has set up their camp," Arthur said, turning in the saddle to face Gwaine and the others. "So now we must tread lightly. From what the neighboring villagers said, we believe there are only three or four of them, so it shouldn't be a terrible fight if they start anything."

After that, they continued on into the forest for another twenty minutes or so without anything out of the ordinary happening. But they were all apprehensive, scanning the nearby trees to make sure they weren't about to be ambushed.

For the second time that afternoon, Arthur raised his hand, signaling the others to stop. Through the trees, they could see movement in a nearby clearing. Gwaine wasn't sure if it was a human or maybe just a deer or something. Regardless, he followed his friend's lead and drew his sword just in case. They spread out a bit, approaching the nearby clearing with caution.

As they came up on the clearing, it became obvious that they had indeed found the robber's campsite. Arthur silently got the knight's attention, signaling for them to circle the clearing and then attack.

Gwaine followed Percival around the perimeter of the clearing while the others spread out in the other direction. He could see only a few of the bandits sitting around the clearing, poking at a pitiful campfire.

Percival came to a halt a few yards away from Gwaine and there they stood— waiting for the signal. It came a few moments later— a piercing whistle followed by Arthur charging into the clearing with his sword raised. The goal was to arrest the bandits by force—as they'd already proven they were dangerous—to be taken to Camelot for further judging. If things got out of hand, they would kill the bandits if need be.

The rest of the knights followed their prince into the clearing. At first, all seemed to be going well. Lancelot had already knocked out one of the bandits, leaving only two left. However, one of them started to run, making a break for the dense forest.

Gwaine caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, sighing as he saw the man trying to run. He gave chase, as his friends were busy back in the clearing. After all, he could handle a one-on-one fight easily.

But, as always, things turned out to be more complicated than they had at first seemed, although Gwaine didn't realize that until he was a fair distance away from the clearing where everyone else was. He had managed to keep sight of the bandit until he'd ducked behind a gathering of boulders nearby.

Gwaine slowed down to a jog, then to a full stop as he scanned his surroundings with a frown, trying to spot where the man could have disappeared. He had a bad feeling, but tried to brush it aside. Paranoia didn't suit him. But still...this was prime territory for an ambush. Subconsciously, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

Let them try to ambush him, he was ready. Or, so he thought.

Chapter Text

It wasn't until they had restrained the bandits in the clearing that Arthur noticed Gwaine was missing. He mentally kicked himself for losing track of one of his men in the midst of a fight, but he knew Gwaine could handle himself well enough— he'd be fine. However, he didn't want to stick around the area any longer than they had to, so he and Lancelot set off in search of their friend while Percival started back to Camelot with the prisoners in tow.

Lancelot had been the last one to see Gwaine, and he thought he knew the direction he had ran off in, so Arthur followed him into the woods.

"He can't have gone far," Lancelot remarked. "There was only one missing bandit, he must have chased after him or something."

"Most likely," Arthur agreed. "He'll probably be on his way back now, we'll see him any minute now."

But the minutes ticked by, and there was no sign of Gwaine. The longer they were out searching, the more worried they grew. They tried calling for Gwaine but there was no sign of him until almost twenty minutes later.

Gwaine had let his guard down— a fatal mistake as any knight knew. A fatal mistake he'd paid dearly for.

The bandit had not been alone; he had only run off into the forest to find his companions. Or rather, companion. There had only been one other man, but he'd caught Gwaine by surprise as he'd attacked him from behind. Something smacked against the back of his head and he staggered forward, stars bursting in his vision. He regained his balance and whipped around, his sword raised to parry the next attack. But he wasn't prepared for the pure brute force behind the attack. His attacker was wielding a wooden club and was about as tall as Percival and almost as muscular.

Just in time, Gwaine remembered that there were two bandits out here, not just this newcomer. Thankfully, the second man didn't have a club. However, he did have a dagger. Gwaine was able to keep him back easily with his longsword, though. But it was getting tiring, having to dodge attacks from club-man and dagger-man. He was holding his own for a good while, however. But so was club-man. He'd gotten too close at one point, nearly breaking Gwaine's shoulder with that blasted lump of wood.

He started to lag, his attacks growing weaker and his defenses sloppier. Before he could even think about dodging anything, club-man swung his weapon at Gwaine much quicker than he should have been able to. It connected with Gwaine's shoulder, sending him staggering to one side, tripping and crashing to the ground. Pain radiated through his shoulder but he was pretty sure it wasn't dislocated.

As he had started to get up, dagger-man materialized in front of him and kicked him in the stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs. While Gwaine was still down, club-man decided to join his friend in making Gwaine's life hell.

He was unable to get up and grab his sword again as they took turns kicking him savagely and using the club to apparently try to crush him into the earth— mostly focusing on his torso. The pain was so bad that Gwaine almost blacked out, spots dancing in his vision. He was pretty sure he could actually feel his ribs stabbing right through his lungs.

Although Gwaine was winded, exhausted, and in pain, he wasn't going down (or rather, stay down?) without a fight. As the men took a split-second break from beating him, he lashed out with his good arm and attempted to trip the man with the knife. It did not work, unfortunately, and dagger-man decided to put an end to things.

He crouched down to Gwaine's level, grabbing him by the hair and forcing his head back. He pressed his dagger against Gwaine's throat but didn't deliver the killing blow yet.

Gwaine didn't know if it was his concussion or just trauma— but for a split second, he could have sworn the man morphed into Morgana. Bad memories resurfaced, and Gwaine's fight or flight response kicked in worse than ever. His heart rate sped up; he tried to pull away from the man but he only applied more pressure to Gwaine's throat.

"Not so high and mighty now, eh? Oh, my apologies. Shall I address you by title, Sir Knight?"

The blade dug into Gwaine's neck, bringing back unpleasant memories from a previous encounter with Morgana. Despite the fear creeping up on him, he glared defiantly at his attacker.

"Better a knight than a coward who kills innocent people," he snarled.

"We were not going to kill anyone until they fought back," the bandit was oddly defensive. "You nobles don't understand what it's like to starve, to be willing to do anything just to get another meal."

Gwaine's blood boiled at the accusation—and the fact that this coward was trying to justify his criminal actions—but he had no chance to answer before the bandit started talking again.

"You would put me to death without a second thought and sleep peacefully afterward, so don't take it personally while I do the same to you."

The pressure on his neck increased, but before the bandit could slit Gwaine's throat, a voice called out from nearby.

"Gwaine? You there?"

Then another, calling out something similar.

The bandit cursed and the second one appeared behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go."

The bandit sent one last hate-filled glare in Gwaine's direction before following his friend into the forest. Not a moment too soon, as it turned out.

Lancelot and Arthur crashed into the small clearing a few seconds later, rushing over to Gwaine's side.

"I'm fine," he groaned, taking Lancelot's hand as his friend helped him to his feet.

In all reality, Gwaine was far from fine. His chest ached with pain, each breath sending a stab of agony through his torso— but it was probably just a few bruises; he was fine. Leaning back against a boulder, he tried to catch his breath, but it hurt so badly he was forced to take much shallower breaths than he would have liked. He clenched his jaw, trying not to groan as he clutched his side.

"You sure?" Arthur cocked his head to one side. "They didn't hurt you too badly?"

Gwaine shook his head, too winded to say anything, which was a mistake as it turned out— his head felt as though it were being cleaved in two. But it was just a headache, probably. He was fine. He felt like he was about to pass out and his vision was full of dots— but that was normal.

"I had things...under control," Gwaine assured them.

"That explains why we found you on the ground, weaponless and defenseless," Arthur said. "Don't worry, we can't win them all on our own."

Gwaine nodded, not bothering to contest Arthur. He was right, after all.

"Better head back to the horses," Lancelot suggested, eyeing Gwaine up and down.

"Stop looking at me like that," Gwaine muttered, following Arthur as he started off into the forest.

"You're hurt, aren't you?" Lancelot asked.

Gwaine hesitated, a denial on the tip of his tongue. But...he was hurt— or, he felt hurt, anyway.

"Probably just a few bruises, nothing I can't handle."

"Gaius will sort you out," Lancelot clapped a hand on Gwaine's shoulder as they started off into the forest together.

Gwaine lagged behind, doing his best to push the pain to the back of his mind as they trooped along through the woods. His breathing was unusually shallow, punctuated by pained gasps. What with his headache and not being able to breathe properly, he was growing lightheaded, and by the time they reached the horses, he wanted nothing more than to lay down on the ground and go to sleep for a week.

As he reached up to grab the saddle pommel and swing up onto his horse pain tore through his torso— twice as bad as before. It felt like his ribcage had been stuck full of knives stabbing through his internal organs with each breath he took.

He slid down to his knees, hunching over and clutching his chest, struggling not to black out.

"Gwaine, what's wrong?" Arthur had knelt next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Might have...cracked a few ribs...or something," Gwaine ground out.

"So, they did hurt you," Arthur frowned. "Is it bad?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Gwaine leaned back, wincing in pain as he did so. "I'm slowing us down; we should go."

He stood shakily, but Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't push yourself too hard for our sake," Lancelot said from Gwaine's other side. "Are you sure you're alright to move?"

"Lancelot's right, if you need a break we can rest for a bit."

Gwaine shook his head. "I'm alright, really."

"If you're sure you're not hurt too badly," Arthur replied hesitantly.

"I've had worse than this; I'll survive," Gwaine half-smiled, trying to reassure his worried companions.

"That's...actually not that reassuring," Lancelot frowned, but let it slide.

Gwaine braced himself against the pain this time as he mounted the horse. For a moment he genuinely thought he was going to black out in the saddle, but he didn't. The ride back to the castle was nothing less than torture, but he kept a straight face on the way there— not wanting to worry his friends any further. It probably wasn't that bad anyway; he hadn't been stabbed or anything after all.

But when he started coughing up blood, he rethought that opinion. He'd felt a cough building up in his chest but had fought it down, knowing it would only aggravate the pain in his chest any further. But eventually, he couldn't fight it down any longer. Each cough sent a spike of pain through his chest and suddenly he could taste blood.

He was riding behind Arthur and Lancelot, so mercifully they didn't notice the blood dripping from Gwaine's lips. He raised a hand to his mouth, staring in shock as it came away red. He spat the excess blood out into the field, riding on after his friends. He'd be fine. Once they got back to the castle he could rest for a couple of days and recover.

Chapter Text

Arthur could tell that Gwaine was worse than he was letting on. He wasn't sure what was wrong with his idiot of a friend, but he knew something was wrong. As he led the small group through the forest Gwaine lagged behind, which was unusual in and of itself. He was usually full of energy and if somehow he did end up in the back of the group it was only because he'd gotten held up doing something stupid like messing with a beehive or messing with the other knights.

But now Gwaine was unusually silent, slightly hunched over himself and moving slowly and carefully as though not to agitate an injury. Arthur didn't understand why Gwaine was so unwilling he needed help until he was physically unable to avoid it anymore. He'd seen it happen before— not a lot, mind you, but it had happened.

Not just when he got injured, either. Arthur could tell Gwaine had been going through a lot mentally and emotionally after some of the traumatic things that had happened to him at the hands of Morgana, but he had been unwilling to open up to anyone and talk about what he was going through.

Arthur shook his head to dispel the thoughts swirling around his mind. Now was not the time to get lost in thought, there could be more bandits in these woods and they were essentially two men down— with Percival riding back to Camelot and Gwaine...well, whatever was wrong with Gwaine, Arthur was willing to bet he wasn't going to be much help in a fight. The best thing would be just to move as fast as possible, they'd be fine.

It wasn't long before they reached the horses, who were peacefully grazing where they had been tied. Good thing, too. Arthur had been a little worried that leaving them behind would result in them being stolen, but he'd known continuing on foot was the best option, and walking the whole distance from Camelot would have taken far too long. But all was well, they would be able to get back to Camelot on their very un-stolen horses.

But before they were able to mount up and ride to safety, Arthur's attention was distracted as Gwaine collapsed with a groan.

Arthur hopped down from where he'd been stood in one stirrup, about to pull himself into the saddle. He knelt at Gwaine's side and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Gwaine, what's wrong?" he asked.

Gwaine took a moment to answer. His expression was pained as he struggled to take in a breath, clutching at his chest as though he'd been stabbed.

"Might have...cracked a few ribs...or something," he choked out, his voice sounding strained.

"So, they did hurt you," Arthur frowned, his concern for Gwaine increasing. He looked over his shoulder, seeing an equally worried Lancelot hovering behind him.

Gwaine straightened, wincing in pain as the movement strained his battered ribs. "Nothing I can't handle. I'm slowing us down; we should go."

Gwaine stood, but he was slow and almost shaky as he did so. Arthur stayed at his shoulder, unsure if Gwaine was going to pass out or not.

"Don't push yourself too hard for our sake," Lancelot spoke up. "Are you sure you're alright to move?"

"Lancelot's right," Arthur agreed. "If you need a break, we can rest for a bit."

Gwaine shook his head, half-smiling at his friends as he tried to assure him. "I've had worse than this; I'll survive."

"That's...actually not reassuring," Lancelot frowned, but both he and Arthur decided not to push the issue.

They mounted their horses, Arthur taking the lead as they rode away from the forest. Every now and again he glanced back at Gwaine. He was worried he might fall from his horse, the man looked about two seconds away from passing out. Although Arthur was worried, he was sure Gwaine would be fine— if it really was just the broken ribs (and maybe a concussion, from the looks of it) that he was suffering from. Hopefully, Gwaine wasn't hiding anything else.

Chapter Text

Gwaine's return to Camelot felt much longer than the departure had. Maybe it was because now every jerk and jolt sent a stabbing pain through his chest. He practically had to force himself to breathe as more than once, he'd found himself starting to breathe so shallowly that he'd grown lightheaded.

Upon arriving at the castle gates, they found Percival waiting for them.

"Finally," he exclaimed. "What took so long?" then he noticed Gwaine and his smile dropped a notch. "Gwaine, are you alright?"

"Uh...been better," he muttered, offering up a weak smile to reassure Percival.

Gwaine braced himself for the oncoming pain as he dismounted. The sudden strain on his ribs rendered him breathless. He leaned forward against the horse, grabbing the pommel with one hand.

"Can you walk?" Lancelot had appeared at his side.

Clenching his jaw, Gwaine nodded. "Just...need a second."

"Alright, we're not in a rush," Lancelot assured him.

Percival and Arthur were stood by Arthur's horse as Arthur updated Percival on everything he had missed. Percival was looking more concerned by the second.

After a moment Gwaine regained his composure and Lancelot helped him toward the castle. Gwaine felt more drained than he had in a long time. The walk up to his room had never felt so long. Lancelot and the others engaged in conversation on the way up but he didn't have the energy to think of anything to say.

"You lot are finally back, I see," Merlin commented as he materialized at Arthur's shoulder. "Wait, Gwaine are you alright?"

Gwaine would have made a joke about how many times he'd been asked that today but he couldn't think of one.

"He got a little banged up in the woods," Arthur explained. "Some bandits ambushed him. Could you go find Gaius and send him to Gwaine's room?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Merlin replied and was off in a flash.

"I've got to go inform my uncle as to how our trip went and see to some paperwork, or else I'd stick around," Arthur said as they arrived at Gwaine's room. "I'll come up and see how you're doing later, alright?"

"Right, see you," Gwaine replied.

Arthur nodded at Lancelot and Percival before taking off down the hall.

"You lot don't have to wait around," Gwaine said to the others as they followed him into his room.

"You sure you don't want company?" Percival asked.

Gwaine could tell they were just worried and wanted to see if Gaius was going to pronounce him mortally wounded or something, so he didn't protest.

As he tried to take off his chainmail pain shot through his chest and he dropped his arms with a hiss of pain. Cursing under his breath, he dropped his arms and sat down with a thump on the bed. 

"Do you need some help with that?" Lancelot asked.

"Maybe," he admitted. "If either of you breathe a word of this to anyone I will murder you."

Percival chuckled. "The almighty Sir Gwaine unable to take off his own shirt? Nah, we wouldn't tell anyone."

Lancelot shot Percival a warning glare then turned his attention back to Gwaine. "We won't, you're hurt. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"You're always such a spoilsport," Percival sighed but didn't make any further jokes. Even he seemed to have noticed that Gwaine wasn't in his usual good spirits.

Gaius finally arrived and inspected Gwaine's painfully bruised chest, he announced that he had most likely broken a few ribs but would ultimately be alright if he rested.

"No strenuous movement, running, training, anything," Gaius ordered. "I don't care how restless you get; you aren't to try anything stupid until I say so. You don't want to risk breaking the ribs further, it could cause lethal damage."

"Alright, alright," Gwaine grumbled. "I'll be careful, I promise."

"Good," Gaius nodded. "Do you need anything for the pain?"

"I'll be alright without it, thanks," Gwaine replied.

After Lancelot and Percival's worries were banished, Gaius sent them away. He wrapped Gwaine's chest in bandages before reminding him how important resting was and how he better not try anything stupid (if one more person told Gwaine not to do anything stupid he was going to lose his mind) and then left. 

Just trying to get comfortable on his bed proved to be a strenuous task as every little move he made caused the raw pain in his chest to spike. He hoped he'd be able to fall asleep quickly, at least. He hated sitting with his thoughts for long periods of time, especially nowadays. 

Chapter Text

Arthur hesitated before knocking on Gwaine's door. If he was resting, he didn't want to disturb him. But he did want to check in on him and see if he was doing alright after the ambush in the forest. Gaius had told him that the knight had only broken a few ribs and would be alright in a matter of weeks. But still, Arthur wanted to see him.

He knocked lightly on the door, starting in surprise as it was thrown open almost instantly.

"Ah, it's only you," Gwaine sighed. "Well, you're someone I suppose."

"That's hardly any way to greet your prince," Arthur teased. "Anyway, I was coming to see how you were doing."

Deep down, he was relieved. Gwaine didn't look nearly as bad as he had on the ride back to the castle and he sounded just like his usual self. Maybe he had been too worried after all.

"Oh, I'm fine," Gwaine assured him, stepping aside so Arthur could enter the room.

"That's not what Gaius told me," Arthur raised an eyebrow. "He said you'd broken some ribs, that's not 'fine'."

"I've survived worse," he shrugged—then winced. "But Gaius won't let me do anything in the meantime."

"Good, you need to rest. You don't want to risk anything."

"You know me, princess," Gwaine grinned.

"Don't try anything stupid, seriously," Arthur warned. "I don't want you getting hurt worse."

"I'm not going to, don't worry. I'll listen to Gaius this time— and don't pretend like you're any better than me, I've seen you disregard Gaius's orders before."

"I'm the prince," Arthur pointed out.

"A stab wound to the leg is a stab wound to the leg, I'm pretty sure you have to listen to the physician same as anyone else, noble or not."

"Well," Arthur murmured vaguely.

Gwaine cocked an eyebrow expectantly, but Arthur didn't have any snappy retort for that.

"Well, I was almost completely recovered and I had things to attend to, so..."

"I'm sure," Gwaine nodded knowingly. "The prince knows best, after all."

"Exactly," Arthur nodded. "Anyway, I'm glad you're alright. I was worried for a moment there."

"Didn't know you cared," Gwaine grinned.

"I care about my knights," Arthur stated. "And more than that, I care about my friends. If any of you were to be gravely hurt under my watch I'd never forgive myself."

"It's our job to risk our lives for you," Gwaine pointed out. "It's our choice. I wouldn't swear fealty to any old prince. You may be a pain in the ass from time to time, but you have my trust."

Arthur took that in. He knew how Gwaine felt about nobility and also Arthur's father, he'd made that more than clear on many occasions. The fact that he trusted Arthur meant a lot to him. He trusted Arthur not to turn into his father— something Arthur was conflicted about. He loved his father, but he didn't like the idea of becoming him. No, that scared him.

"Thank you, Gwaine," Arthur said. "That means a lot."

"Of course," Gwaine said. "Now don't let that get to your head, it's big enough already."

"Oh be quiet" Arthur scoffed. "I've got to go now, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"I won't, I'll just sit here and lose my mind," Gwaine sighed, flopping down onto the bed.

"I thought it was already lost?" Arthur asked, quickly closing the door before Gwaine could respond.

As Arthur meandered through the castle, making his way to his own chambers, he pondered on his and Gwaine's conversation. Although he would never say so out loud, Gwaine's opinion meant a lot to him and he was glad that he'd gotten to talk to his friend on such a serious level. It wasn't often that they talked one-on-one about such personal matters.

Chapter Text

Gwaine did his best to follow Gaius's orders throughout the following weeks. After a little bit he was allowed to roam the castle, attend meetings, that sort of thing, but wasn't allowed to go back on patrols or train with the other knights yet. After a few weeks passed though, he was starting to gain the ability to move around without feeling like he was being stabbed in the chest, which was definitely a good thing. But apparently not enough for Gaius to allow Gwaine to accompany Arthur on a trip out to the border where there was reportedly some trouble being stirred up in the outlying villages.

"Gaius, I'm well enough to go, I promise," Gwaine said, trying to convince the elderly physician to give him permission to go. He'd tried to get around going to Gaius by just telling Arthur he was going but Arthur had forced him to ask Gaius. "I've been training and stuff already and I felt fine."

"You sure?" Merlin asked. "You looked a little less than fine."

"I was tired," Gwaine stated, crossing his arms. "Honestly, it barely even hurts anymore."

"Well," Gaius pondered for a moment. "I suppose it has been nearly a month, it might be safe for you to go. I have a feeling if I say no, you're just going to go anyway, aren't you?"

Gwaine grinned sheepishly. "I dunno, maybe. Are you going to say no?"

"You knights are all the same," Gaius shook his head disapprovingly. "Fine, you can go. But don't come weeping to me if by chance one of your ribs breaks further and stabs your lung."

"That won't happen," Gwaine assured him. "If it does I promise I'll die quietly and politely."

Gaius scoffed and turned away to inspect some tonics Merlin had put together earlier.

"Anyway, I'll be there to keep an eye on him," Merlin reminded them.

"You're such a mother hen," Gwaine teased.

"Someone has to be, or you're going to get yourself killed!" Merlin exclaimed. "I've probably aged five years since I met you just worrying about you— I don't think you have any self-preservation skills whatsoever. How you survived alone for so long is a mystery to me."

"Ah, come on now, I'm not that bad. I just don't worry about everything all the time like you do, where's the fun in that?"

"There isn't any, but somehow I keep befriending morons who think they're invincible."

"Maybe I am, nothing's killed me yet after all."

"Keep that mindset up and something will," Gaius warned him.

"I'm only joking," Gwaine said. "I can take care of myself just fine; don't worry."

Gaius murmured something unintelligible and Merlin scoffed audibly.

"You physicians," Gwaine shook his head, taking a step back toward the door. "You need to lighten up a bit. Take a trip to the tavern. Well, I suppose in Merlin's case he should take a break from the bar."

"Oh shut up," Merlin snapped. "Who are you to judge, anyway?"

"Not judging," Gwaine held his hands up in surrender, ducking through the doorway. "See you later Merlin."

"Merlin," Arthur called, waving at him across the armory. "Did Gaius really say that Gwaine could come?"

"I'm not lying!" Gwaine protested. "Have you no faith?"

Arthur shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

"He's telling the truth," Merlin confirmed. "Gaius gave him permission— told him not to come crying to him if he got stabbed in the lung by a rib or something."

"That's...a bit concerning, but alright."

"Ah, so the invalid has recovered?" Percival asked, looking up from where he was polishing his sword across the room.

"I was an invalid against my will," Gwaine clarified with dignity. "And I've been recovered, Gaius just didn't believe me."

"Well, I think the physician knows best," Arthur interjected. "Anway, Merlin—" he walked off, interrogating Merlin about supplies for the trip or something.

Gwaine set about gathering his things and making sure his sword was sharpened while they waited for the others to arrive.

Chapter Text

The journey out to the border was an uneventful one. Gwaine had been filled on the details of what was going on at the border as they rode out by Leon. Apparently some of Cenred's soldiers had defected or something of the sort and forced themselves on a small outlying village. One of the villagers managed to escape and make it to the castle to inform Arthur of the situation.

"We're sure Cenred isn't behind this?" Gwaine asked.

"Not quite, but the man who came from the village seems sure that the soldiers are defecting. He says they don't seem to be on any kind of mission, except to find a free place to stay and drink all their ale."

Gwaine nodded. "Doesn't sound like they should be too hard to deal with, then."

"Don't speak too soon," Leon warned. "You never know. I've been in plenty of situations where I thought the other side would be a pushover and was proved very wrong."

Leon had much more experience than most of the other knights of the round table, as he'd been serving with Arthur for longer than most of them had been in Camelot. So Gwaine knew to listen to him, more often than not he was right.

It was a day's journey to the border, with only one stop on the way to eat a quick lunch. Arthur decided they wouldn't go all the way to the village, rather they would camp out in the forest a few miles away so that they wouldn't give away their element of surprise. The next day they would plan their attack.

"Should we light a fire?" Merlin asked.

"No, we don't want to risk being seen," Arthur said. "You can tie the horses to that tree over there, though."

"Fine," Merlin sighed.

"Here, I'll help," Gwaine said, taking the reins of a couple of horses and following Merlin to the tree Arthur had pointed out.

"Thanks," Merlin said. "How're you feeling?"

"Merlin, for the last time, I'm fine. Hardly any pain anymore, it's just I've got a few bruises or something."

"Alright," Merlin consented. "I'll leave you alone now."

"It's alright," Gwaine grinned. "I know, I'm a pain sometimes, but I'm not lying about this just so I can get a piece of the action."

"I believe you, don't worry," Merlin assured him.

After lashing the horses to the tree and watering them, they joined the rest of the group. There weren't the usual conversations around the campfire as there was no campfire and Arthur insisted they all go to bed straightaway so they would be well-rested for tomorrow. Gwaine offered to take the first watch as he wasn't tired yet. The others took him up on his offer and Gwaine walked a short distance away from the others and stood by a nearby tree.

He leaned against the tree, looking up at the stars. Not so long ago this would have been his view almost every night and he would have been looking up at them alone. He passed the hour until his shift was over by pacing around and trying not to think too deeply about the issue that had been bothering him as of late. Unfortunately, he wasn't successful.

Although he was glad to have a home in Camelot, he didn't feel that he quite fit in with all the other knights. He felt like they were all more professional than him, smarter, and more dedicated as well. He was self-aware enough to realize that he had a temper and sometimes it got the best of him, leading him to make impulsive decisions that endangered not only his own life but those of his friends on a few occasions. What if he were to let them down in the worst possible situation and get Arthur—the future king of Camelot—killed?

Sure, Gwaine wasn't usually one to doubt himself—at least if he did he didn't let on—but usually he was only putting himself at risk. Now he had people relying on him. It was a big switch and not a bad one, but one that took some getting used to. And although Gwaine was loathe to admit this to anyone, he was terrified of failure.

He started with surprise, his hand flying to his sword hilt as someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Relax, it's just me," Elyan said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You can go rest now."

"Oh, sorry," Gwaine smiled sheepishly. "Right, have fun out here then."

He walked back to where his pack was, falling asleep almost as soon as he lay down.

Arthur hadn't slept well the night before, if he hadn't been on watch duty then he was stressing himself out trying to think of the best possible plan to ambush the village. The villager had said there were only about five or six soldiers, so at least the knights wouldn't be outnumbered. He guessed that the reason so few soldiers had been able to take control of the village was that farmers weren't trained in combat and most likely wouldn't have swords, so it would be easy for a handful of trained soldiers to bully their way into getting free things.

There wasn't much strategizing Arthur could do in this situation as they didn't know the layout of the village very well and didn't have a way to get a feel for their surroundings without revealing their presence. The best thing to do under the circumstances would be to send someone out to try and sneak around and see where the soldiers were and then run back and tell the others so they could ambush them.

He relayed this simple plan back to the knights the next morning, and they all agreed it sounded like a good idea.

"Who should we send into the village?" Leon asked.

"I could blend in better," Merlin suggested. "You lot are all a bit inconspicuous with your shiny armor and all that."

"This is a dangerous situation we're dealing with—" Arthur started to warn Merlin, only to be cut off with a scoff.

"As is every situation I've been dragged into since I stepped foot in Camelot, I think I can handle myself thanks."

"He's got a point," Gwaine piped up.

"Merlin can take care of himself," Lancelot said, sounding a little too sure of their friend.

Sure, Merlin hadn't died yet and had proven himself to be a very loyal, brave manservant on many occasions but he wasn't any good with a sword or any other weapon for that matter. Yet he had a knack for survival.

"Alright, Merlin can go. Don't get yourself killed, got it?"

"I won't," Merlin said. "You'd miss me too much, I wouldn't want you to have to hurt like that."

"Oh shut up," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just get a move on, we don't have all day."

Merlin was gone for about a half hour or so before he returned, slightly out of breath but otherwise none the worse for wear.

"They're hanging about the tavern," he said. "I saw a few of them walk in— at least four, but I don't know where the rest are. They might've already been in there. I couldn't check without being found out."

"That's alright," Arthur said. "Can you lead us to the tavern?"

"Yeah, it's not far," Merlin nodded. "But we'll need to move quickly, in case they move somewhere else."

"They're in the tavern, no chance they're going anywhere anytime soon," Gwaine laughed.

They set off into the village, splitting off into two groups once Merlin had given them all directions to the tavern. Arthur, Leon, and Elyan set off in one direction while Lancelot, Gwaine, and Percival set off in the other. Merlin accompanied Arthur's group, hanging around the back as they made slow progress across the land.

 Arthur tried to shake the bad feeling lurking in the back of his mind. This was a simple mission; go in, beat up the bad guys, then deliver them back to Camelot. There was nothing to it, he'd done the same dozens of times and his best knights surrounded him, what could go wrong? 

Chapter Text

"Right, so what's the plan?" Percival asked, as they crouched behind a small hut across from the tavern.

"Were you listening to anything Arthur said?" Gwaine asked, cocking an eyebrow. "We wait for his signal and then attack."

"What's the signal?"

"Probably a whistle or something," Lancelot said. "I think Arthur forgot to specify."

"Then we just charge the tavern?"

"Well yeah, what else?" Gwaine asked.

"I'm just making sure I know the plan," Percival said.

"I know, that's alright," Lancelot nodded. "Better safe than sorry and all that."

Gwaine refrained from teasing his friend, he knew now wasn't the time. Even a simple plan could be messed up if one person forgot a key detail, at least that's what Arthur had told him time and time again. But this was a very simple plan; what could go wrong?

After a few minutes of waiting, their signal came. It was not, as Lancelot had speculated, a whistle, but a crashing sound followed by quite a lot of shouting.

That's not good, Gwaine thought before springing into action. He and the other two sprinted toward the tavern, the door of which had been smashed in. Upon entering the dingy, dimly lit tavern they saw that the other knights seemed to have things pretty well under control. Two of the men had already been subdued by Leon and Elyan but the others were nowhere to be seen.

"Where is everyone?" Gwaine asked, looking around in confusion.

"Arthur and Merlin ran after the other three soldiers, I don't know where they went," Elyan replied. "We've been a bit busy."

"Right, I'll go see if they need a hand," Gwaine said. "Will you lot be alright here?"

"I think we'll survive," Leon said.

"I'll go with you, Gwaine," Percival offered as Lancelot started across the tavern toward the other two knights to offer his assistance.

"Right, let's go then," Gwaine said. "Leon, any idea where they went?"

Leon shrugged. "Not sure, I saw them go out the door but that's the last I saw, sorry."

"That's alright, we'll find them."

Surprisingly it didn't take long for Gwaine and Percival to find the other two. They had managed to end up in the area of the village behind the tavern. Merlin lay off to the side and Gwaine's heart stuttered in his chest— was he dead? No, surely not. He was just unconscious, that's all. He didn't have time to worry about it now.

Arthur was backed up against a nearby shed, fending off two soldiers while the third was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had run off, but Gwaine hadn't the brain space to worry about that. He and Percival charged to Arthur's defense, making quick work of the other two soldiers.

"Thanks," Arthur panted, looking relieved for a moment before his expression grew concerned. "Merlin—"

"He's over here," Gwaine said, having already turned to go to Merlin's side. "What happened?"

As he knelt next to Merlin's unconscious form he was relieved to see that his friend was indeed still bleeding. Blood matted the hair on the side of his head— he must have taken a hit during the fight.

The fight had taken place on the outskirts of the small village, the woods just across the dirt road leading out into the countryside. While Gwaine tried to rouse Merlin, the other two set about tying up the soldiers. Gwaine had let his guard down, too busy worrying about his friend to remember the possibility of an attack from the missing third soldier.

So, when there was a slight rustling in the bushes, he barely noticed.

"Merlin, come on," he gently shook his friend's shoulder. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Now's not the time for a—"

But he was cut off as a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Is he alright?" Arthur asked, kneeling next to Gwaine.

"I think so?" Gwaine said, but it came out as more of a question. "Looks like he got hit on the head."

"The third bloke we were fighting had a club," Arthur confirmed. "He ran off somewhere, I dunno..."

But before he could finish, a crossbow appeared in the shrubbery in front of them— aimed right at Arthur. Gwaine saw it first; Arthur remained intent on Merlin. Without hesitation, Gwaine shoved Arthur to the side right as the person holding the crossbow pulled the trigger. Arthur started to shout in protest but his eyes landed on the crossbow bolt sprouting from Gwaine's side. His eyes followed the trajectory of the shot and he saw the man in the bushes, struggling to reload the crossbow.

Gwaine cursed as pain shot through his side and he fell to the ground, curling in on himself and breathing hard. He needed to get up, he needed to help Arthur— to protect his lord. But he could feel the strength leaving his body as he lay there, the pain dulling as consciousness slipped away from him.

Chapter Text

The last thing Merlin had expected to wake up to was seeing a body laying on the ground next to him with an arrow sticking out of his side. He blinked, wondering if he was dreaming, but a panicked shout from somewhere nearby assured him that he was not.

"Wha—" Merlin shot upright, realizing that the body was Gwaine. "Gwaine!"

"'M...alright," Gwaine mumbled, surprising Merlin who'd thought he was unconscious. "Stop shaking me."

"You've been shot!"

"I noticed," Gwaine winced, forcing his eyes open and sitting up. "

He must have been shot from a very close range for the arrow to have penetrated the chain-mail that much and Merlin frowned.

"Don't try to pull it out," he ordered, just as Gwaine moved to do so.

"What's happened?" Percival asked, jogging over from the other side of the road— leaving two tied-up soldiers behind.

"Gwaine's gotten himself shot," Merlin said.

"I'll live," Gwaine assured them. "Can someone get this bloody stick out of my side, though?"

"Hang on a moment, we've got nothing to stop the bleeding with yet, I need my satchel."

"Is it bad?"

"It doesn't look like it went very far into his side, his armor slowed it down most likely. He'll live."

Arthur emerged from the forest, his sword bloodied and his expression grim. His expression grew panicky as he saw Gwaine, hunched over and looking as though he were liable to pass out at any moment.

"Gwaine!"

"I'm alright," Gwaine's voice was a little too weak for his reassurances to have any effect on Arthur— and even if it wasn't there was still the matter of the crossbow bolt protruding from his side, a sight that was sure to reassure absolutely nobody.

"Get him to the tavern," Merlin instructed. "I'm going to run back to the camp and get my satchel and I'll get him taken care of. Don't try to extract the bolt yet and try not to knock it around too much."

"Why can't you take it out, again?" Gwaine asked, his voice barely concealing the pain he was feeling.

"You'll bleed out, and you need a trained physician to do something like that. I'll be right back, I promise."

"Hey, you still with us?"

Gwaine nodded. "Yeah."

"Can I help you stand?" Arthur asked.

"If you insist," he ground out.

The return to the tavern took twice as long as their departure had and it was the most nerve-wracking walk of Arthur's life. He was talking almost the whole time, trying to make sure Gwaine didn't pass out. By the time they reached the tavern, Gwaine seemed almost riled up enough to tear Arthur's head off, he was so annoyed, but he refrained from doing so.

"There you are, we've been— oh God, what's happened?" Elyan asked, his eyes going wide as Gwaine and Arthur stumbled into the room.

"Get a chair and I'll explain," Arthur said, half-carrying and half-dragging Gwaine across the floor to where Elyan quickly pulled a chair out from a nearby table.

He collapsed into the chair, his head lolling back and his jaw clenching as the muscles in his neck tensed to a breaking point.

"One of the soldiers ran off during the fight," Arthur informed them. "He was hiding in the forest but we didn't realize it. He shot at us, and Gwaine...he pushed me out of the way and took the shot himself. He saved my life."

Gwaine waved a dismissive hand, not bothering to lift his head.

"Is he alright?" Leon asked.

"He's been shot," Elyan pointed out.

"He'll be alright," Arthur put in. "Merlin said so."

"He's right here," Gwaine rasped. "You lot aren't getting rid of me this easily, don't start any funeral plans yet."

Arthur, despite himself, was a little relieved. If Gwaine was still making jokes he probably wasn't in any mortal danger yet.

"Good," Elyan sighed in relief although he still looked worried. "What about the others, where are they?"

"Merlin went to go get his things so he could tend to Gwaine and Lancelot was making sure the prisoners are all secured, I think."

"I'll go see if he needs a hand," Leon said. "Where is he?"

"Follow the road leading that way," —Arthur pointed to the back of the tavern— "And you should find him."

"Right."

"Gwaine, you still with us?" Arthur pulled out the chair opposite Gwaine.

Gwaine gave an incoherent groan in response. At least, Arthur thought it was a response.

"Merlin will be here soon."

He better be, or Arthur was going to have him thrown in the stocks.

Chapter Text

"Must you swear so?" Arthur sighed as Gwaine cursed up a storm that would make even the most seasoned sailor wince.

"I've just saved your damn life, if I want to swear a little then I'm sure as hell entitled to it," Gwaine snapped, glaring at Arthur although there was no malice in the look.

"He's got a point," Merlin agreed as he stitched up Gwaine's side.

"My apologies, you're right," Arthur held his hands up in surrender.

"Somebody write that down, I don't think I've ever heard him say that before," Gwaine joked.

"Oh be quiet," Arthur said.

Gwaine hadn't really noticed on the way to the tavern, as he'd been pretty out of it, but Arthur was acting a little oddly. He thought maybe their encounter had shaken him pretty badly or something.

Merlin had allowed Gwaine a little whiskey for the pain but cut him off before he could properly put it to use. As it turned out, he'd been right; the wound hadn't been a deep one and he'd deemed Gwaine to be not in any danger of dying as long as he didn't get infected or do anything stupid. But it still hurt like a bitch.

Merlin finished bandaging Gwaine's side and then stepped back, wiping the blood from his hands with a cloth he'd set aside.

"How's that feel?"

Gwaine cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Do you need something for the pain? I think I have some herbs that might help."

"That's alright, Gwaine said. He didn't always trust the odd herbs Merlin and Gaius used.

Some of the other knights had gotten the soldiers all tied up and left them in the stables behind the tavern until they were ready to leave. Arthur and Merlin began discussing how they should spend the rest of the day and Arthur decided that some of them would go around and check on as many of the villagers as they could and Merlin and Lancelot would return to the camp and move all their stuff to the tavern where they would stay for the night before returning to Camelot. Then Lancelot and Merlin would wait at the tavern with Gwaine until the others got back.

"Just try to rest, we'll be right back," Lancelot said, patting Gwaine on the shoulder and somehow managing to make it a comforting gesture.

"And don't do anything stupid while we're gone," Merlin said.

"Nice to see how much you trust me," Gwaine scoffed.

"I trust you with my life, just not with yours," Merlin replied. "Now, we'll be right back, it's not a long walk. Be safe."

"Yes, Mother," Gwaine sniped.

The others left Gwaine to his own devices, and although he was tempted to raid the tavern a little bit he decided against it. He was tired and lightheaded from the pain and blood loss, he might as well just stay where he was.

Arthur was badly shaken from the days events. Although he'd been through many battles and skirmishes in which knights had gotten injured, it wasn't something he got used to seeing— especially not when it was one of his closest friends taking a shot that had been meant to kill him. A shot that could now very well kill Gwaine.

He'd tried to save face in front of the others, it was never a good idea to let your people see you lose your nerve after all. His father would be disappointed in him if he knew how much Arthur cared about his knights.

"My Lord? Hello?" Leon said, sounding as though he'd been trying to get Arthur's attention for a minute or so.

"Sorry, Leon," Arthur snapped out of his reverie. "What is it?"

"We've found a wounded farmer, he tried to save his family's farm and the soldiers didn't take that well. We might wanna get Merlin down here."

"Alright, is he...is it bad?"

"It's not good," Leon replied, his face grim.

"When I get back to the castle I'll try to get these people compensation, somehow. Money, perhaps or we could import crops for them or..."

"We can figure that out back at the castle," Leon said, placing a reassuring hand on the young prince's shoulder.

"Right, you're right. Of course," Arthur nodded. "I'll go find Merlin; he'll probably be back at the tavern by now."

He hurried back to the tavern, where he found Merlin and Lancelot laying out all their bedrolls and gear, having temporarily rearranged the tables in the room. The tavern owner, a tall, broad-shouldered woman, was helping them as well.

"Oh, your highness!" she gasped, upon seeing Arthur and curtsying clumsily. "Thank you so much for saving us, I never thought the prince himself would...I mean, you're so above...well, just—"

"That's quite alright," Arthur smiled, reaching out and shaking the woman's hand. "Camelot is my future kingdom, I've got to make sure all it's inhabitants are taken care of. Now, you're sure you don't mind us staying here for the night?"

"Of course not," she said, still looking a little starstruck. "I would be more than happy— Royalty staying under my roof? Why I never! I'll provide dinner for you lot as well, on the house."

"Thank you," Arthur said. "We really appreciate it."

The woman mumbled something about seeing to the kitchen and bowed out of the room.

Merlin looked over from where he was forcing Gwaine to lie down.

"I'm fine!" Gwaine was protesting.

"You have a fever," Merlin argued back. "You're going to rest and you're going to let me mother-hen you until you no longer have a fever."

"He's got what now?" Arthur stepped closer.

"A bad case of 'Merlin-is-a-mother-hen-itis," Gwaine informed him, his expression solemn.

"A fever," Merlin countered. "It's just his body fighting off the infection, I think."

The dulled panic in Arthur's chest spiked again.

"You're sure? It's not poison?"

"Gee, thanks for the words of comfort, Princess," Gwaine groaned from the ground.

"No, Arthur. It's not poison," Merlin assured him. "At least I don't think so, he's not showing any symptoms."

"I'm not on my deathbed here," Gwaine interrupted. "I just got a little shot, that's all. I've survived a lot worse, remember?"

Of course Arthur remembered, that's why he was worried.

"I know," Arthur sighed. "I know, I just...I worry about you. All of you, especially when it's my fault."

That really got a rise out of Gwaine, he propped himself up on his elbows and squinted up at Arthur as though he'd just sprouted a second head.

"Oh, I'm sorry— were you the one hiding in the bushes with the crossbow?"

"No, but—"

"You weren't trying to kill anybody?" Gwaine continued.

"No," Arthur repeated. "But the shot was meant for me, you should have—"

"Stood by and let my future king get killed in front of my eyes? Yeah, that sounds like something every good knight would do," then, turning his attention to Merlin, he lowered his voice to a comical whisper. "Did he get knocked in the head one too many times?"

Merlin nodded, his expression deadpan.

Arthur knew when to give up, he couldn't win any conversation in which both Merlin and Gwaine were teamed up against him.

"Alright, alright," he threw up his hands in defeat. "You're right. I still feel bad, though."

"Good, now go away and let me get some beauty sleep," Gwaine laid back down gingerly and threw an arm over his face.

"My God," Arthur sighed, walking away. "Merlin, I actually came here to find you. There's an injured farmer that needs your help."

"Right, of course," Merlin jumped up.

"Gwaine, will you be alright alone for a bit?"

"Get out of here," Gwaine replied.

After they were out of the tavern and on the road, Merlin looked over at Arthur.

"He really will be alright, it's one of the less-concerning crossbow wounds I've seen. Of course, there's still cause for concern— I'm not trying to downplay his injury, I'm just being realistic. You know I wouldn't lie about this."

"I know," Arthur replied. "Thank you, Merlin. I trust you, don't worry. I just hate that he got hurt for my sake."

"He's your knight—and one of your best friends—what did you expect him to do? He'd be feeling the same way right now if you got shot."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Arthur groused. "I hate that...I dunno."

"Hate what? Come on, you gotta express yourself at least once in a while or you'll explode," Merlin punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"I just hate that being who I am means that people are expected to risk their lives for me, like they're worth less than me."

"That's not something the arrogant jackass of a kid I first met would have said," Merlin murmured. "You've come a long way. You'll be a good king. A king that doesn't value his life above his citizens, one who would risk his own life for those of his knights in an instant— the people will love you."

Arthur remained speechless for a moment, then mumbled a self-conscious thanks— he wasn't used to these kinds of conversations and still didn't quite know how to respond. Then, before the conversation could get too sappy, Merlin saved it.

"I mean, they might not if they knew you, you're kind of an ass sometimes and not really the brightest but—"

"Oh shut up," Arthur rolled his eyes, punching Merlin lightly in the shoulder.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day passed without incident, as did the night. Gwaine's fever went down naturally after a few hours and Merlin convinced him to drink some kind of herbal tea that was supposed to help him sleep. It did so, and he woke up feeling a little refreshed. That was quickly ruined though as the ride back to Camelot was one of the worse ones Gwaine had suffered recently, but he survived it.

Gaius insisted on checking him over again when he arrived home and it wasn't until far too long afterward that Gwaine was finally allowed to go to his room. He never thought he'd be so happy to lie down in his own bed. He dumped his gear on the floor along with his shirt and boots and flopped on top of the covers.

But a little while afterward a knock came on his door. Gwaine expected it was probably a well-intentioned servant or perhaps Merlin, so he didn't bother to get up and get the door.

"The door's unlocked," he called out.

"Heard you got yourself shot," a distinctly not male voice greeted his ears.

"Heard you got yourself shot," a distinctly not male voice greeted his ears.

He looked up and saw Aderyn hovering in the doorway, looking both worried and as though she were trying to appear nonchalant.

"Uh, sorry, I'm not decent— I wasn't expecting..." he sat up, looking for his shirt which was nowhere in sight.

"This isn't exactly the first time I've seen you without a shirt," Aderyn pointed out, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "I can leave if—"

"No, no, come in. I've missed you."

"Oh, really?" Aderyn raised an eyebrow, dodging around his clutter on the floor and sitting on the side of his bed.

"So, what happened? Are you alright?"

"No," Gwaine sighed melodramatically. "I'm actually due to die any moment, it's quite sad."

"Not funny," Aderyn scolded. "They said you'd been shot."

"I was, we got into a bit of a situation and someone tried to shoot Arthur."

"And you saved him?"

Gwaine shrugged. "It sounds pretty heroic when you say it that way."

"Sir Gwaine being a hero is old news," Aderyn pointed out. "Don't act like you're not."

"But see, when I don't, you call me arrogant, cocky, sure of myself, and—"

"Well, that's only to be expected," she interrupted, smiling knowingly. "Then I have to tease you, but when you act like this I can't. It'd just be mean."

"You are quite mean sometimes," Gwaine pretended to pout.

"Only to people I'm fond of," she replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

He tried to look away, not wanting to make the eye contact awkward, but he was slightly transfixed. He should tell her she was beautiful. No— no, he shouldn't. That would ruin everything.

"No, I've seen you be mean to people you hate too. I wonder which category I fit into?" he asked, cocking his head slightly to one side.

She laughed, oh how he loved her laugh. Especially when it was because of something he'd said.

"I think you know," she grinned. "But really, are you badly hurt?"

"Why, are you worried?"

"Stop being coy, you know I'm worried about you."

"I just wanted to hear you say it, "he smiled. "It's not bad, my chain-mail slowed down the bolt. I've just got to rest for a while and I'll be fine."

"You'd better actually rest," Aderyn warned. "No gallivanting about when you're meant to be healing."

"I never gallivant!" Gwaine gasped, looking affronted. Aderyn didn't look amused, so he reiterated: "I've never once in my life gallivanted anywhere."

"You're ridiculous. Well, now that I know you're not dying I suppose I should go."

"Must you?" Gwaine asked, looking up at her as she stood.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I've got to go on patrol, I think."

"Well, alright. Don't forget to visit me again, I'll waste away in here on my own."

"I won't forget," Aderyn assured him. "Bye now."

"Bye," he murmured.

"Bye," he murmured.

However, he wasn't left to waste away for very long. After a couple of hours (which Gwaine passed by napping, he hadn't realized just how truly exhausted he was) Arthur showed up at his door.

"Come in," he called, his voice thick from sleep. He sat up and raked a hand through his hair, blinking rapidly to focus his vision.

"It's me," Arthur said.

"I see that," Gwaine squinted.

"Did I wake you?"

"I needed to wake up anyway, it's alright."

"How are you feeling?" Arthur pulled out the chair from the desk next to Gwaine's bed and took a seat.

Gwaine eyed Arthur suspiciously. "Why? What bad news are you about to deliver?"

"Nothing," Arthur laughed. "Really, is it so wrong for me to check in on my friend?"

"No, as long as there's no hidden agenda that involves news I'm going to hate."

"No bad news, I promise. I was just worried about you, that's all."

"Have you been possessed, or do you have a secretly good twin that you didn't tell me about?" Gwaine asked, still looking suspicious.

"I believe it's usually an evil twin," Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"In your case it's a good one, take a guess as to why."

"I don't think I will," he sniffed. "Anyway, I just uh...I wanted to thank you, for what you did out there. Properly thank you, that is. You could have died and you still chose to do what you did, for that I thank you with all my heart."

"That's alright," Gwaine replied, looking a little lost for words. "You'd do the same for me, and anyway that's my job. I gotta prove myself worthy and all that."

"Damn right, I would," Arthur agreed. "But what do you mean 'prove yourself'? You've proven yourself ten times over at this point; are you mad?"

"I dunno... it's just," Gwaine hesitated. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this. I'm not used to this— being a part of a team. Usually, it was just me I had to watch out; I didn't have to worry about much."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Arthur clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Gwaine. You've saved my life too many times to count, and there aren't many men I'd rather have by my side than you."

And Arthur meant it, although Gwaine got on his nerves every now and again, he was a truly loyal friend and one Arthur would immensely grateful to have by his side.

"Thank you," Gwaine murmured. "There's no man I'd rather serve than you. You made me realize that not all royals are awful. I mean— don't get me wrong, you have your moments..."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Just like Gwaine to throw in a joke in the midst of a serious conversation.

"Oh be quiet. You helped to make me realize that you don't have to be of noble birth to be a knight. What was that you always said?" he paused to think for a moment. "Nobility is..."

"Nobility is defined by what you do, not by who you are," Gwaine filled in, his voice somber all of a sudden. "About that, Arthur. There's something I never told you," he cleared his throat a little awkwardly, hesitating before he continued. "My father...well, he was a knight in Caerleon's army—"

"Wait, what?" Arthur exclaimed, wondering for a moment if Gwaine was joking— but no, his expression was dead serious. "You mean you're noble and you never told me? Why?"

"Pride, I suppose," Gwaine started. "I didn't want anyone to base their opinions of me off of who my father was, I wanted to make a name for myself, not in the confines of some king's court, but seeing the world. And look where that got me," he chuckled ruefully. "I don't regret it, though."

"But you could have told my father that and he wouldn't have banished you— you went through all that trouble for nothing," Arthur frowned, trying to process what his friend had just told him.

Gwaine shrugged. "Told you, it was pride, I suppose. That, and I guess, and I didn't want to...I don't know. I'd been keeping it a secret for so long that it almost felt wrong to say it. Like I was losing a bet I made with myself, a bet that I wouldn't rely on my dead father's memory to make a life for myself. It's not as though it means anything anymore; he's been dead for so long and I haven't associated myself with my family in so long they've probably forgotten about me."

He figured it would be better not to pry into why Gwaine had left his family behind; his friend would reveal whatever he was comfortable with when he was ready.

"I think I know what you mean— about not wanting people to treat you differently," Arthur mused. "People have always treated me like glass because of who my father was. I could do no wrong; I couldn't lose at anything. It was sickening. It is sickening. Even when I was a child, the other children didn't want to play with me because they felt they had to let me win 'or else'."

He'd always wished people wouldn't treat him differently just because his father was a king. Growing up, he had always been estranged from the children his age. It had been lonely, and although the other children had included him, he knew it wasn't the same as normal friendships. They would let him win at everything, even when he asked them not to, they still treated him like he was made of glass. He'd never made many 'real' friends— everyone was either close to him because of his power and wealth or because their family was on similar social status as his and it was just expected of him. Well, that was until Merlin had come along, and now Gwaine.

"Sounds awful," Gwaine frowned. "I would have gone crazy. But don't worry Princess, I won't treat you like glass, after all— your skull is too thick to be glass. It's probably stone."

"You never give it up, do you?" Arthur shook his head, laughing despite myself.

"Come now, you know me too well to ask a ridiculous question like that," Gwaine scoffed.

"Apparently not as well as I thought," Arthur said, still trying to process the idea of Gwaine being a noble.

"No, you do," Gwaine corrected him. "My father's social status has nothing to do with who I am, even you can't be that stupid."

"No, I know," Arthur replied. "I just...You're about ten times more stubborn than I realized, holding out through a possible execution and then banishment out of spite."

"Like you wouldn't have done the same in my position, think about it now."

Arthur did, but he wasn't sure. "Maybe, I don't know. That was either really very brave of you or really stupid, I can't tell which, but I respect you for it."

"There's a fine line between the two and I've never much cared which side I was on," Gwaine grinned. "I respect you too, even if your father is the king and you're a noble prince and all that nonsense."

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual. Now, I'm afraid I have to go tend to some of my noble princely duties, so I'll leave you alone now. Don't go running off now, Gaius said you're to rest."

"Why does everyone think I'm going to run off?" Gwaine groaned.

"You don't have the best track record when it comes to bed rest. Don't forget, the first time you came here you got stabbed in the leg and then snuck into a melee right afterwards."

"Now see— that was for a good cause," Gwaine protested.

"In your eyes the tavern is a good cause as well, is it not?"

"Perhaps you do know me a little too well," he conceded. "Ah, well. I tried. Goodbye, Princess."

"Bye, Gwaine," Arthur closed the door quietly behind him, feeling a sense of relief as he did so.

His friend was really going to be alright, and he felt quite a lot closer to him now. Shared near-death experiences did tend to do that, he noticed.