Gwaine woke up with a pounding headache.
That was not a new situation, nor even a particularly unusual one. Even the full body soreness and cold stone floor failed to alert him for a few blurry minutes. He spent years waking up exactly like this, and a few months in a bed in Camelot hadn't tricked him into forgetting the feeling.
It's not till he tried to move his hands and metal clinks that he started to get concerned.
He could just be in jail. He could have disturbed the peace last night. He could have accidentally punched someone being a knight didn't give him the right to punch, although that list was gratifyingly shorter now.
Could have been any of those things, but Gwaine could never delude himself for long. He remembered last night's events plainly, and they had involved a lot of walking and absolutely no drinking.
He finally forced his eyes all the way open. A bleak stone cell that showed absolutely no originality greeted him. Agravaine was chained on the opposite wall. Merlin was nowhere in sight.
That was a problem. Agravaine'd had business with a man who lived in the town here, some two days from Camelot. Merlin had needed herbs for Gaius from the same general region, and Gwaine had been assigned to protect the both of them.
This had suited exactly none of them, but they couldn't argue with the princess.
Well, they could. And did. Frequently. They just hadn't been successful this time, and Gwaine had to admit a certain grudging respect for Arthur. Any man who could withstand all three of them had truly impressive amounts of stubbornness.
Admittedly, it had probably helped that Merlin and Agravaine's alternative plan was to head off in different directions alone. Why they didn't want protection, Gwaine had no - okay, some - idea, but Arthur wouldn't stand for it.
Some protection he was. Agravaine had a large bruise forming around his eye, not that Gwaine cared, and Merlin was -
The last of the fog cleared from his brain, and he looked around desperately. "Where's Merlin?" he demanded.
Agravaine startled. "What was that?"
"Merlin. Where is he?"
"On his way to the pyre, I'd imagine. Hopefully they'll see reason once he's dead."
Gwaine lunged forward until the chains bit into his wrists. "What?"
"You don't remember?" Agravaine raised an oily eyebrow. "The fight at the inn last night?"
"Most of it," Gwaine hedged. The ending was a little hazy, but getting hit in the head with a chair repeatedly would do that to a man.
Agravaine looked unconvinced. "He did magic."
"No, he didn't," Gwaine said immediately. "What made you think that?"
"His eyes were glowing. I am sorry, Sir Gwaine, I know - "
Gwaine didn't care what he thought he knew. "In the middle of a bar fight, you were looking at his eyes?"
Agravaine flushed. "It was the town folk that noticed, not I."
"Ah," Gwaine nodded wisely. Then: "The drunk ones, you mean?"
Agravaine's flush grew darker. "It's not me you need to convince," he snapped.
Ideally, he'd go convince the villagers with his fists, true, but he was well and truly stuck at the moment. For the sake of his sanity, he'd have to assume that Merlin could talk his way out of trouble, one way or another. If Merlin managed that, then Gwaine could make sure Agravaine didn't stick a knife in his back on the way home.
Gwaine settled back against the wall. "They'll figure it out soon enough," he said with confidence he didn't feel. "Probably when he apologizes for stepping on a guard's foot or something."
Agravaine's eyes flashed. Gwaine rolled obliviously on.
"You two have never really gotten on, have you? Why is that?"
Agravaine waved a dismissive hand. "He's a servant. The very idea of "getting on" is ludicrous."
Gwaine smiled politely. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got banished from Camelot?"
By the time Gwaine had finished his story, Agravaine felt the need to insert a hasty clarification of his previous statement.
Gwaine wasn't buying it.
Merlin still wasn't back, so to drown out the thoughts threatening to form, he started singing an old drinking song fondly referred to as endless.
Well. Not necessarily fondly, come to think of it.
Got a reaction from Lord Agravaine though.
He'd lost count of what verse he was on when Merlin finally showed up with an obsequiously apologetic guard. Merlin smiled awkwardly as the guard unlocked the door and hurried in to free them.
Gwaine rubbed his wrists and wandered over to Merlin while Agravaine was freed. "What happened?"
He wasn't expecting an honest answer, but Merlin's excuses were hilarious.
He definitely wasn't expecting Merlin to hesitantly hold out a sigil of some sort.
Long dead training kicked in. "Is that - "
Merlin nodded.
Gwaine whistled. "Bet that came as a surprise to them." The old queen's sigil. Arthur must have given it to him. Who'd have thought?
"What did?" Agravaine inquired.
Merlin hastily shoved it back into his pocket. Gwaine clapped Agravaine on the back and pretended not to notice his wince. "That you're the prince's uncle, of course."
The implication that he'd saved Merlin's life hit did not seem to overjoy Agravaine. Judging by the glare Merlin shot at Agravaine's back, the feeling was mutual.
When they got back to Camelot, Agravaine told the story with a heavy significance that was entirely lost on Arthur. Instead of shooting Merlin a suspicious look, he just groaned instead. "That's what, the third time now, Merlin?"
Merlin tried to look innocent. He was creepily good at it.
"If that many accusations have been made," Agravaine began. No one but Gwaine could hear him over the conversations that had begun to pick up again.
"Yet he's still here," Gwaine pointed out pleasantly. "A point I might think on, if I were you."
He was whistling as he walked away.
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