A. N. ("Arthur's Notes"): This is the third story in the Friday Knights series, an Alternate Universe from the end of Season 3 of Merlin based on a play-by-post roleplaying game combining the creative machinations of May Glenn, Caitydid, and me!

WARNINGS: Sexual content, violence, and strong language slightly amped up from what you'd expect from Merlin, but nothing serious. There will eventually in the series be a gay relationship, but otherwise no slash.

Previous Stories: The Odd Couple: The Adventures of Sir Leon and Sir Gwaine (May Glenn), The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship (May Glenn)

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FRIDAY KNIGHTS: THE UNQUIET CASTLE

Gwaine and Leon are starting to get the hang of running Camelot while Arthur is gone. How will the knights react when the castle itself begins to rebel against them? Meanwhile, Gwaine begins his quest to unite Leon and Lady Elaine in holy matrimony-or at least in a double-date.

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Sir Lancelot was surveying the castle early in the morning. Sir Leon had taken to calling training exercises at later hours, probably to accommodate the tendencies of his co-Steward, Sir Gwaine, who was rarely at his best before noon, so Lancelot knew he had a few hours at least to poke around.

That Round Table he and the boys were planning on bringing in as a wedding gift for the King and Queen had to go somewhere.

It had been Gwaine's idea: surprising because of the blatant sentimentality of the gift, unsurprising because he clearly hadn't thought how ridiculously impractical it would be to obtain, bring to the castle, and find space for. But Leon had been the only one frightened by the logistics of it, while Elyan and Percival had jumped on the idea of a proper quest, and Lancelot appreciated it as a token remembrance of the day Arthur had knighted them all.

The quest had been uneventful, except for the underestimation of how heavy the bloody thing was. It broke two carts on the way in, a few mules went lame, and in the end they all had to put their backs into it to get it up the last hill to Camelot. So it would have an amusing story-no doubt embellished by Gwaine-when Arthur received it. And then, of course, when they got it up to the main doors they made the unfortunate realization that the door was too small!

Needless to say, the knights agreed unanimously to leave it on the porch until a more suitable location with easier access could be found.

Which is why Lancelot was poking around the castle with a length of rope that had been cut to the exact diameter of the table: if the rope, drawn to its full length, could make it through a given door, Lancelot knew they could get the table through it.

The Great Hall was probably the best place for it, and if they took it through the back way and tilted it to get it through the door, they could just get it in. However it was, Lancelot admitted, something of an eyesore just off to the side-not to mention nigh impossible to move aside for feasts and dances and ceremonies and things.

There were, however, a few side-rooms, war-rooms, council chambers, etc., which, if the table fit, would be a fitting symbol for-

And which, apparently, as Lancelot muscled a dusty door open, no one ever went in. Or cleaned, for that matter. He was sure all of these rooms were used somehow. This one seemed to be used for storage. Lancelot consulted the door with his string, pleased to discover that the table would only need to be tilted slightly to fit inside.

Lancelot frowned at the cobwebs and miscellaneous furniture. Didn't they have cupboards for this kind of stuff? Well.

He checked outside. It wasn't midday yet, so he had some time. He could at least sort through it all, and have the servants organize, store, and chuck the rest. He sneezed. And have them dust.

The rickety bookshelf full of old tomes certainly belonged in the library, and Geoffrey could sort through it. Still. Lancelot was a great admirer of poetry, and the red-leather-bound folio as good as called his name, demanding to be perused. He plucked it from the shelf: A Gode Boke of-but there the letters had smudged out (though he thought he recognized a "P"), and a few pages were missing. From what he could gather, flipping through the weathered pages, it was full of love poetry:

One love feeds the fire
One heart burns desire
I wonder, who is crying now?...

Ah, this was good stuff! Lancelot had been in a bit of a rut, recently, and no one and nothing could fill his mind but a certain Queen whose heart belonged to another. Mostly to keep himself from weeping, he read out loud-

"Two hearts born to run
Who'll be the lonely one?
I wonder, who is crying now?"

Lancelot spent the next several hours reading, and it was not until he heard the chimes ring out calling for training that he realized how quickly the time had passed. "Oh!" he started with a cry, and, clutching the book to him, ran to find a servant.

"We need that lot cleaned out today," Lancelot said, pointing toward the anteroom in question, in his own gentle, unaccusing way of asking-not-ordering. "Take as many people as you need. The books go to Geoffrey, find a cupboard to store the furniture in, and chuck the rest as you like. Come and get me when you've done, I'll be at the training grounds. Thank you!" he added as he ran off.