Merlin Fic: And the World You Promised: Chapter Four: There's Method in My Madness

[jesterladyfic]

Chapter Four: There's Method in My Madness

Gwaine knew how he was viewed by the people around him. His knowledge was like an itching under his skin that exploded into inappropriate comments and a rebellious streak only just tolerated because of past deeds. He fought to get away from the picture people had of him, but he also tried to enforce it. He wasn’t sure which desire was the stronger most of the time.

His whole life had been one of haste, going from place to place, woman to woman, tavern to tavern, running from the past, or maybe escaping it. He’d never been bound to a single place or person and, for a long time, he'd thought he preferred it that way. Nobody had ever proved to him that they could be different than the pictures he held of them.

Nobody till Merlin.

Merlin. His first friend, a man Gwaine was fiercely protective of. Merlin had accepted Gwaine as he was, took the strength he offered, never hesitating to tease him, yet without a hint of judgment. All it took was Merlin’s cheeky grin and an afternoon making fun of Camelot’s nobility and Gwaine’s blackest mood could be lifted. Merlin was loyal to a man who treated him unfairly, was strong and supportive, willing to go to any length to protect a friend. Merlin was the smartest and most powerful man Gwaine knew, but he humbly chose obscurity. It was absolutely baffling to Gwaine, even still. He’d do anything for Merlin.

Merlin had led him to Arthur, a man who puzzled Gwaine exceedingly. Arthur was noble, arrogant to the core, yet willing to sacrifice himself for anyone, whose best friend was a servant, though he’d die before he’d admit it. Arthur was a mass of contradictions, sometimes so bent on tradition, such as with the ban on magic, and obedient to a father who had been a tyrant. Yet, he had married Gwen, as common born as they come, and lifted Lancelot, Elyan, and Percival up to the status of knights, thinking he’d elevated Gwaine as well. He had sacrificed himself to save his knights from Ismere.

Yes, Arthur confused Gwaine, but he knew that he would die for his King gladly.

And because of Arthur’s actions Gwaine had a place in Camelot, his own bedroom, filled with his own possessions. He had a place among a brotherhood, readymade companions who accepted him as one of their own. He had found a home, oddly enough. He was with people who he never wanted to leave.

Yet it had been hard to change his ways, to get used to it. He did it because he believed in Arthur, in the ideals of Camelot, but sometimes it galled him to be so disciplined, so regimented, to be so cosseted and fussed over. And that’s why he was a frequent visitor to the Rising Sun and why many a barmaid had known the pleasures of a night with him, but never the same one twice.

Not till Eira. There had been something about her that made him want to protect her, some kind of kinship between them that made him feel sorry for her. But she had been using him the entire time, no victim, but Morgana’s pawn. He wanted to laugh at himself for being a fool, but there was something deeper to the betrayal. He had told things to Eira, believing at last that he’d found a woman who might accept him for who he was and who would stay with him.

But it was not to be. Tonight he would play her as she had played him. In discussing the plan Gwaine felt exposed, like a disease out in the open. He tightly controlled his emotions as he always did when in pain, but he could not shake it off with a smile and smart remark as usual. This was too personal and his friends would know it for the façade that it was. In the end it was a benefit because his obvious struggle was a segue into his task. So he turned stone faced and let Eira think it was worry over Arthur that was bothering him. All too soon his information was planted.

Gwaine felt Eira slip out of the bed they’d been sharing and head out of the room. He waited a minute longer and then followed, slipping his chainmail over his head with practiced ease, and grabbing his sword.

He followed her silently, walking through the halls he knew very well by now. He’d lived there for six years and had had, on many an occasion, the need to find the quickest ways to navigate them.

He met up with Gwen and her guards as planned and they continued together.

As suspected Eira had been on her way to send a message to Morgana. The bird had only just flown off when he made his presence known.

"Eira."

She started guiltily and then tried to cover it up.

"I was just…"

"Sending word to Morgana."

"No.” Eira looked around frantically, spotting Gwen coming out of the shadows. “My lady, I wouldn't do that, I wouldn't betray you or the King."

"And you didn't. You can go to your death safe in that knowledge. Your note will send your mistress riding for Brinived and all the while the King will be traveling in the opposite direction."

Gwen’s face was impassive, her tone without sympathy. Gwaine could well imagine that anyone conspiring against Arthur would get no kindness from her. Still, he felt…well, he didn’t know what he felt and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

"Gwaine,” Eira called as the guards took her away. Her cries grew more frantic, but he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t know what would happen if he did. “Gwaine, please!"

He’d chosen his loyalties long ago and he certainly wasn’t going to change them for the life of a woman who had used him and abused his trust in her.

Her voice grew faint as she was carried to the dungeons. Gwen came over to him and put her hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” she said quietly. “I would understand if you resented me just a little bit.”

“Wouldn’t do to start gushing now,” he said, with a twist to his mouth. “I might not stop and then where would we be?”

“Probably somewhere healthier for you,” she said somewhat sternly and then shook her head. “I am sorry. I can’t really say that to someone when my own emotions are so volatile right now.”

“I always said you were meant for a great man, pity you chose Arthur,” he said lightly.

She smiled at him, a genuine smile.

“Still, if and when you do wish to speak to someone, I am available.”

“I appreciate that, my lady,” he said. “Between you and Merlin I know I’ve got overly emotional friends.”

She made a face at him and then left. Gwaine stood there for a moment or two before he left and went back to his room.

He didn’t sleep that night, simply took off his chainmail and lay on his bed or stared out his window at the gallows prepared in the early morning light. He couldn’t wholly blame Eira, not really. It wasn’t like she knew him or his past that well, for all the secrets he’d entrusted her with. She had no personal grudges against him. But her mistress, that was another matter. Morgana had all the hatred in the world for him, because of what he represented, someone loyal to Arthur.

It was her doing. Eira might have been a good person once, but Morgana had twisted her, had done enough evil that Gwaine could never forgive her. Slowly, the beginnings of an idea sprouted in his mind. He didn’t give full heed to it for awhile, sure that Gwen and Leon would disapprove.

But Gwaine couldn’t shake it. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, it was probably one of his less than wise plans, but by the time the sun had fully risen, Gwaine had made his decision.

He didn’t go to the execution, not really. He didn’t want Eira to see him there and he didn’t bother to analyze why. Instead he stood inside, looking out of the window. Gwen stood up high above the courtyard, looking far more alone than he could remember. Leon stood beside her, a faithful knight, but it was ultimately Gwen who made the final motion, taking Eira’s life from her.

Gwen stood resolute, not an inch of remorse in her face, but he could see the way her hand shook, the pinch in her eyes, the desire to not have to do this, to make these kinds of decisions.

Eira was not hysterical now; she simply stood quietly and waited. Gwaine made sure he watched, never looking away as the lever was pulled and the hushed thud echoed throughout the quiet morning. Eira’s body hung lifeless, limp, and harmless. Gwaine swallowed hard and anger against Morgana burned in his heart.

Percival came up behind him and put his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. Between them had always existed an odd kind of friendship. They’d become knights at the same time and were bound through that encounter, but they couldn’t have been more different. Gwaine was loud and raucous, Percival quiet and solid. They had their own strengths and weaknesses, but they’d grown closer since Elyan’s death, a natural drawing together that couldn’t happen with Arthur or Leon since they were in leadership above them. Gwaine would say that, apart from Merlin, he was closer to Percival than any other person in Camelot. Then Gwaine would laugh and make an inappropriate comment causing Percival to swat at him with his huge muscles.

But there was a deeper understanding between them as well. Gwaine knew exactly the kind of slaughter Percival’s family had undergone and what Percival would do to end Morgana’s reign of tyranny.

"You know what you said you'd do if you ever found Morgana?” Gwaine paused. “Well, we have a good idea where she'll be heading."

And there the idea was out in the open. He could not take back the words. He looked up at Percival, who simply nodded, and didn’t try to talk Gwaine out of it. Probably the ire of injustice was too deep within Percival to think clearly either. Well, wise or foolish, they would go together.

They didn’t tell anyone where they were going and that was really the first time Gwaine had disobeyed a direct order or broken the code he’d sworn to. He was reckless often, defiant and disrespectful, but he’d always followed the good leadership provided to him and respected Arthur’s and Leon’s decisions.

They rode fast, not speaking, not needing to really. They were bound together with a dread purpose and Gwaine didn’t want to explore his feelings about it or hear about Percival’s. He simply wanted the deed done.

They slowed when they neared their destination, years of training together informing them as to what the other’s role would be.

Morgana’s men were easy to deal with. The lady herself was a slightly more difficult problem, but one Gwaine relished tackling. She smiled insolently at him when he snuck up behind her, not seeing Percival jump out on top of her, driving his sword home into her flesh.

Gwaine just wished he was the one twisting it.

But she was not so easily caught and her magic sent them both flying. Gwaine hit the ground hard, feeling every jolt twice over through his armor. His vision was foggy as he looked up to see her standing over him, smile cynical and condescending.

"Did you really think you could outwit me?"

His vision faded away.

***

Gwaine’s eyes blinked open and he saw Morgana standing in front of him, holding a carved wooden box.

He was on his knees, hands tied to trees on either side of him. His sword was lying just out of his reach, probably placed there on purpose to torture him, he thought.

"Tell me where the King is.”

"I'd rather die," he said, smiling.

He always smiled at Morgana, he’d never known her really as anything other than evil, and he did not have the compunctions that Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen did. So he did not feel any reason not to be pleasant and frank and his usual, wonderful self.

"Well, you shall have your wish, once you've told me.” She opened the box and a serpent head slithered over the side. Gwaine had heard the description from Elyan and he was suddenly wary. “Not even you, Sir Knight, can resist the charms of the Nathair."

Well, that just made everything suddenly very bad.

Still, Gwaine had to smile. He’d once told Merlin he’d never met a noble worth dying for. He’d put that theory to the test for many years. Now he was finally going to die for Arthur. It was perfect in a way.

Morgana’s cruel smile was the last thing he remembered for some time outside of the pain. It was far beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. The little bites were nothing, but the venom they introduced into his system made Gwaine buck backwards, bending his head to the ground and twisting his arms, agonizingly held by the ropes.

It was worse than being tortured because at least there he would have the sense of being in control of his own mind, but each time the snake left its mark on Gwaine he felt less and less in control, unable to direct even his own thoughts. His very body was a conductor of pain, slamming messages home into his brain and he distantly realized the horrible screaming sounds he could hear were coming from his own mouth.

Soon he could hear himself gasping out things he’d never told anyone, perhaps a subconscious desire to hide the true information, but involuntary on his part nonetheless. With every word the venom seemed to cloud his mind more, seeking, probing for what it wanted. It was something slimy and dark, worming its way through his head, tearing apart his conscious mind, and wracking his body with its evil.

Finally, finally when it seemed there was no hidden place left in him he could hear his own mouth speaking the words.

“He’s gone to Avalon.”

“My thanks,” Morgana said somewhere above him, then hissed words he didn’t understand.

Immediately the sense of another presence in his body left and he simply felt weak, his blood was on fire, and he couldn’t hold his head up. He did not know how long he sat there but it felt like a lifetime, white hot bursts of pain stabbing behind his eyelids and traveling down his entire body to his feet.

Then he felt something, blessedly cool hands on either side of his face. He opened his eyes, the very effort as hard a thing as he had ever done, and saw it was Percival, kneeling in front of him.

"She's riding for Avalon," he said, his words barely above a whisper.

"Gwaine."

"I failed," he said, trying to focus on something other than the pain.

"No, you haven't,” Percival said strongly.

“You-you have to go,” he said. “Warn Arthur. Merlin.”

“I have to get you help or you could die,” Percival argued. “What happened?”

“Box. Snakes. Elyan snakes,” Gwaine said, fighting to stay conscious.

Percival’s face paled. He knew the story as they all did.

“I will get you to Gaius,” Percival said, grabbing a dagger from his belt and slicing the ropes that held Gwaine bound.

He found himself looking at the dagger and trying to puzzle it out. It looked wrong, like a Saxon’s blade. Why did Percival have a Saxon’s blade? Then he realized there was something else wrong.

“No,” he said finally, remembering. “No, you must go. Go to Avalon.”

“But you’ll-"

“Worth it,” Gwaine said, holding Percival’s gaze.

The other man’s eyes hardened and he lifted Gwaine in his arms with more ease than Gwaine felt a man in armor should yield.

“You’re coming too,” Percival said firmly. “Arthur first, then we get you home.”

“Stupid…” Gwaine said, words trailing off.

This was the end. Nothing Gaius did would work unless it was immediate. Gwaine had no time. He would make Percival, the idiot, leave him here. Gwaine wanted to die for Arthur, really, he did. But it didn’t matter; bringing him along or not would not stop the inevitable, he felt. So long as Percival was going for Arthur, that was all that mattered.

He was lost in a fuzzy nightmare now. Snakes appeared in his vision even when his eyes were closed, their eyes yellow. Each bite on his body felt like a brand, burning inside and out. Somehow, he knew the venom was working its way through his body, destroying all in his path.

But the next time he opened his eyes he was flung on the front of a horse, the forest rushing by him, making him feel sick. And he was sick, his stomach emptying itself without his permission, though he didn’t really have control over anything at the moment.

His ride went on for longer than he cared to remember until suddenly they were at the shores of a lake and he was lowered to the ground. His head felt heavy and there were black spots every time he opened his eyes, which was ridiculously hard to do.

Percival was muttering above him somewhere.

“W-what’s your problem, p-precio-?” he asked.

“I don’t see them anywhere,” Percival said. “But I don’t see Morgana anywhere either. Should I go to the island? I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Can take care of m-myse…” Gwaine said, blacking out again.

He woke again to a sudden shout of joy coming from Percival. Gwaine struggled to lift his head and saw a boat appearing out of the fog. The two figures on it were undoubtedly Arthur and Merlin and Gwaine let a grim smile of triumph play around his lips. Or at least, he tried to. Clearly Morgana had failed in her mission to kill Arthur.

“Sire,” Percival said, splashing into the shallows and clasping arms with Arthur. “You’re alive.”

“Apparently,” Arthur said, sounding weary. “How fares Camelot?”

“Camelot is well, Sire. The Queen is handling everything with Leon at her side. We only despaired for you.”

“Well, despair no longer,” Arthur said, sounding much more tense than a man who had been saved from death should be.

“Gwaine!” Merlin said, running past Arthur and Percival and falling to his knees by Gwaine.

“Don’t know i-if you’re…in time,” Gwaine said. “Time for magic.”

Merlin looked astonished and then worried and Gwaine cursed his slip, but he didn’t think anybody else had heard. Had they? Everything was so murky. He hadn’t meant to out Merlin. He’d known for years now, waiting for Merlin to feel ready to tell him, but he guessed all it took was a little death to make him give up everybody’s secrets.

“I-it’s okay,” Merlin said. “Arthur knows. I just wasn’t aware you did.”

“Can’t put anything p-past…me,” Gwaine said.

Merlin smiled.

“It was the table in the tavern when we first met, wasn’t it? I would expect you to see everything that goes on in a tavern.”

Gwaine laughed, choking on his air. Merlin looked past him to Arthur and Percival approaching, an unspoken question and pleading on his face.

“Well, go on then.” Arthur’s voice sounded high and more important than he really was. “Do you really think I’m such a hypocrite as all that, Merlin?”

Merlin looked like he wanted to say something, but a gurgling in Gwaine’s throat made him forget to watch and the next thing he knew Merlin was turning back to Gwaine. Merlin's eyes flashed gold and he started speaking words Gwaine couldn’t understand, or maybe that was the snake venom.

Either way, he started to convulse as he felt light and power touch him, dragging all the sickness through the bites and restoring the ragged edges of his wounds. It was painful, but like when a wound was healing, rather than when it was just received. Trust Merlin to have all this power and look like he was barely strong enough to lift Arthur’s armor.

Which was Gwaine's last conscious thought before he slipped away into the black again.