Title: Merlin's Miss-Ing Years

Author: tinyrose65

Summary: Or How Merlin, Gwaine, and Arthur Get Caught On The Wrong End Of A Spell and Everybody Else Just Has to Make Do With It.

Chapter 1: In Which Merlin and Gwaine Find Arthur Doing Something Strange

The trip to the little village on the outskirts of the kingdom had been long, but was very much worth it, in Merlin's not-so-humble opinion. Gwaine's mother had greeted them with open arms and his little brother— not so little anymore— had been filled with awe at the sight of the knight.

It had been her idea to take the boon in good weather and use it to take a trip to see Gwaine's family, who he hadn't seen in years. Gwaine had grumbled and complained, no doubt thinking that they wouldn't want to see him after so many years apart, but if Gwaine was stubborn, Merlin was worse, and soon the two of them had packed up their bags and begun the long trek to Lot's kingdom. Gwaine made sure not to wear the crest of Camelot. They didn't want a war, after all.

The only person who wasn't happy to see Gwaine was his older sister, who, upon seeing the brother who had "abandoned them for his drink and his whores" (her words) had come at him with a frying pan. Gwaine, no stranger to angry women, had managed to avoid her, and then took to placating her best he could. Meanwhile Merlin, not wanting to be around, went with Gwaine's mother and her youngest son to the kitchens to prepare some food. When they came out, Gwaine and his sister seemed to have come to some sort of understanding, although they were still a bit icy towards each other for the rest of the visit.

If she had to guess, Merlin would say that her feelings were helped by the fact that Gwaine had been sending them money since he had left them, with it taking on a more steady stream since he had become a knight. Although not wealthy by any means, the family now had enough to live comfortably and to even help support some of the poorer families of the area.

Merlin made sure to enjoy herself. She had been slightly nervous about meeting Gwaine's mother— for all that he hadn't seen them in years— but they took to each other like a house on fire, and Merlin was pleased to learn about all of the embarrassing childhood stories of Gwaine.

Gwaine's spent a good portion of his time teaching his younger brother the basics of sword fighting, which he had not the opportunity to learn before (although as it turns out, he was quite skilled with throwing knives after bartering an old set off of some merchants passing through). He took to it pretty well, and by the time they had left, he had been walking around with stars in his eyes, dreaming of Knights of the Round Table and fighting beside his brother. Although Gwaine hadn't said, Merlin knew that he quite liked the idea, too.

They departed in the early morning, the fog still rolling over the hills, unburnt by the sun. Goodbyes were filled with tears from all sides. Even Gwaine got misty eyed, despite his typical bravado and bluster. He was silent for the first few hours of their trek, no doubt overwhelmed by having seen his family for the first time, and Merlin let him be.

Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Thank you, Merlin," he said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, surprised, and glanced over at him from her horse, which was walking sedately by his. "Thanks? For what?"

"For making me do this," Gwaine explained. Turning sheepish, he added, "You were right. It was good for me."

"I'm always right," Merlin said haughtily.

Gwaine laughed. "I suppose I should've learned learned as much by now."

"I liked meeting your family," Merlin continued, once they'd stopped laughing. "Your little brother, especially, was very sweet."

"He's a much bigger lad than the last time I saw him," Gwaine mused, slipping into nostalgia.

"Time flies," Merlin shrugged. "And kids grow quickly, or so I'm told."

"Is that something you've thought about at all?" he asked. "Children, I mean. Having them, and all."

Merlin let out a squeak. "Children? Our children?"

"Aye," Gwaine confirmed.

Merlin gaped at him like a fish for a moment before mustering up the self control to close her mouth. She considered it, thinking over her words carefully, and Gwaine let her, knowing that it was a difficult question. He had been thinking about these sorts of things for a while (since before their adventure to Hogwarts, to be honest), but she clearly hadn't been. He wasn't insulted by that. He'd known since meeting her that Merlin's mind ran in different circles than most women. In fact, it was one of the things he loved most about her.

"No, honestly," Merlin finally admitted. He wasn't terribly surprised by this answer. "I hadn't really considered it. I mean, before the repeal on the ban on magic, I knew I could never have children. How could I pass my gifts on and force them to live a life of hiding? I had lived that life for far too long to ever wish it on somebody else, let alone my own child."

"And now?" Gwaine promoted eagerly.

Merlin shrugged. "And now… things are different, I suppose. It's still not completely safe for magic users— prejudice still exists and all— but when will it be? Not to mention I have you, now, and that's something I had never considered before."

"Me?" Gwaine asked blankly, not quite sure he understood her. When had she ever thought that she wouldn't have him? She'd had him from the moment she'd walked into that tavern, eyes bright and grinning like a loon.

Merlin turned pink. "Having somebody. Like you. Being in love. Not to say that there haven't been others. There was Frey, and Will certainly wished our relationship was that way even if I didn't. But after coming to Camelot, my whole life was Arthur and our destinies. There wasn't much time for anything else."

"So you'd consider it? Having children one day?" Gwaine prodded. The answer meant more to him than he'd care to admit. Merlin glanced over at him, her expression indecipherable, and Gwaine felt his heart leap into his throat as he waited for her response.

"Having children?" Merlin said softly. "No."

"Oh." Gwaine's heart dropped from his throat to his stomach.

"Having your children? I think I'd like that. One day."

Gwaine couldn't stop the grin that split across his face. He positively beamed at her, and Merlin seemed to be uncomfortable with the level of adoration in his gaze. She often was, he had noticed a long time ago, like she didn't believe she was worth it. He'd spend the rest of his life proving her wrong. He swore it.

They passed the rest of their ride in easy conversation, apparently neither one of them wishing to talk about that particular subject anymore, Merlin out of uncomfortableness and Gwaine out of respect for her (he didn't want to startle her away after all— children, Merlin one day wanted his children).

That night, however, Gwaine had a difficult time falling asleep. He lay in his roll, Merlin curled up tightly next to him, watching the stars above. There was no need for a tent, not in this weather, with the spring solstice tomorrow, so he took a deep breath of the fresh air, allowing it to hopefully help clear his mind.

It didn't.

Thoughts were rushing through his head at a rapid pace, and like almost always, they all traced back to the young sorceress sleeping soundly next to him. Specifically, about what she had told him earlier.

Before Merlin, Gwaine would never have considered the idea of starting a family. He liked his freedom too much— his drink, his women, his gambling. It seemed baffling to him that a man would give that up to be tied to one woman for the rest of their life, the two of them dealing with little kids underfoot and always getting into things. He had laughed at them then, swearing off love and marriage and all those other things he found silly.

Now, though.

Well.

Gwaine couldn't imagine a day without Merlin. Not anymore. He felt himself constantly being pulled towards her— she was like sunlight, everything good and warm and wonderful, and he gravitated towards that. It was like there was a string tied beneath his breastbone, where his heart was, and the other end was tied to hers, keeping them connected.

He liked the idea of starting a family with her. He had acknowledged that a long time ago. Lately, seeing Arthur and Gwen prepare for the arrival of their child, though, had spurred those feelings into overdrive. So much so that he had found himself at the markets one day, looking at rings, eventually settling on a delicate ring comprised of a band of silver leaves surrounded by two thin strands of gold, knowing that Merlin wouldn't want anything flashy or over the top.

Thinking about it, he reached into his pocket (careful not to jostle Merlin awake) and fiddled with the small item in his pocket. He'd taken to carrying the ring around everywhere, partially because Merlin was nosy and lord knows she'd find it if he hid it anywhere not on his person, but also because he was overly paranoid of the perfect moment passing him by.

So far it hadn't, for which he was grateful. He had already sent a letter to Merlin's mother asking permission (which had been enthusiastically granted), but had yet to ask Gaius. The old man, with his threats of poison and slow, lingering deaths, still frightened him more than he cared to admit.

With a sigh, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and wrapped his arm more firmly around Merlin. They had time. Plenty of it. Camelot was at peace, spring was here. Perhaps he could take Merlin on another picnic…

Thoughts of Merlin laying in the grass, sunlight in her hair, made Gwaine smile and lulled him to sleep until late the next day, when he woke up to Merlin kissing him gently.

Not a bad way to start the day, Gwaine mused, pulling Merlin closer and flipping them over, pining her against his bedroll.

"Gwaine," she mumbled against his lips. "We need to leave if we want to reach Camelot by lunch."

"Ever the practical one," he sighed, pulling away and standing up. He offered her his hand. She took it, stood, and brushed her clothes down, clearing it of some of the leaves and grass that Gwaine's actions had put there. Together they went about gathering their supplies and putting everything away, and soon they were off once again.

As Merlin had predicted, they reached the outskirts of Camelot by lunch. Gwaine, ever cognizant of the ring in his pocket, was about to suggest they take a break for an impromptu meal by their lake, when some noise in the underbrush startled them both.

Gwaine hopped off of his horse and pulled out his sword, prepared to defend them both against bandits if need be (although, if he were being honest, between the both of them, Merlin could probably handle herself better). Instead of bandits, the last person either of them expected emerged from the bushes.

Arthur.
Dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, his hair was a disaster, sticking up all over the place, his face and arms were smeared with dirt, and in his hands he held a bundle of crumpled flowers; it was definitely Arthur, no matter how un-Arthur-ish he actually looked.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, climbing off of her horse. She sounded positively gleeful at the state of them.

Arthur's face was red with embarrassment at being caught doing, well, whatever it was he was doing. He cleared his throat.

"Merlin. Gwaine," he said tersely. "I didn't expect you two back until tomorrow."

"We made good time," Gwaine said, by way of explanation. He hesitated for a brief moment, wondering about what wisdom there was in questioning the king when he clearly wasn't in the mood to be bothered. Merlin didn't have such qualms, though.

"What are you doing?" She demanded. She'd come to stand beside Gwaine now and was looking at their king with as confused an expression as he was.

"I'm the king of Camelot," Arthur defended. "I don't have to explain myself-"

"Arthur."

Arthur huffed. "Gwen hasn't been feeling too well these past few mornings. I thought some flowers would cheer her up."

"And you picked them yourself instead of ordering somebody else to?" Merlin clarified. She clapped her hands in unadulterated delight. "That's so sweet!"

"Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin ignored him and instead took to eyeing the bundle he had in his hands, eyes narrowing and hands going to her hips. "You could've picked better flowers, though. Most of those are herbs— some of which I recognize from my magic book, although I don't remember what they're for. And… what happened to your face? Why is it so red?"

Gwaine was surprised to discover that the flush he had attributed to embarrassment wasn't from embarrassment at all. In fact, now that they had all moved a bit closer to each other during their conversation, he could see that it had the mottled hue of some sort of rash. Judging by the that and the state of the king's clothes, the king must've fallen into a patch of poison ivy. Gwaine couldn't help it. He began to laugh. Merlin joined him, giggling.

"Shut up," Arthur whined again. Merlin took pity on him.

"Here," she said, walking over to him and placing her hands on his face. "I can heal you-"

Arthur jerked away, surprised by the contact and looking a bit nervous. Although Gwaine knew that Arthur had come to terms with Merlin's magic, he was still a bit apprehensive about having it used so directly on him. Years of prejudice and fear instilled in him by his father couldn't be overcome overnight, not even by somebody he trusted as much as Merlin. Merlin never begrudged him the fact, but was continually doing her best to try and use magic in little ways around him to get him more used to it.

"There's no need, Merlin," Arthur protested waking her hands away with the flowers he still held clenched in his fist. Merlin gritted her teeth.

"You're uncomfortable for nothing," she protested, trying to reach around his flapping arms for the rash on his face. She managed to grab the flowers (now looking more than a bit worse for wear) and pulled them from his hand. "It'll just take a moment—"

"Merlin, no!"

"Arthur, yes!"

Gwaine was about to step in and stop them both (they were acting like idiots, not that he wasn't enjoying the show), when there was a flash of bright light from Merlin and the heady scent of herbs.

That was the las thing any of them would remember for a long while.

It was around this same time, back at the castle, that Leon was getting frustrated. He had been wandering the castle halls looking for Arthur for over an hour now and nobody, not even Gwen, had seen him since the night before.

"Have you seen the king?" Leon asked Tristan, who happened to be passing by, no doubt on his way to the council meeting that Arthur needed to be at, dammit. Tristan shook his head and kept walking, not even bothering to stop. He was already late and so was Arthur.

Leon huffed, frustrated, and headed out to the armory to find a few knights. A guard had mentioned he'd seen the king heading out to the woods early this morning. Although Leon had no clue why Arthur would be going to the woods alone (double dammit), it was the best lead he had.

Having found Elyan and Percival and catching them up to speed, the three of them road out to towards the forest. Whatever Arthur was doing, he clearly hadn't been planning on stealth. His tracks were easy to follow and eventually lead them to a small clearing. There, they met up with two other tracks (and horse tracks, although there were no horses to be seen— the hoof steps looked as though they had wandered off in the direction of the city, so no doubt the knights had just missed them), and then there was a big mess of confusion and it was impossible to make out what went where.

"Split up," Leon instructed. Elyan and Percival each got off their horses and walked in separate directions, swords drawn and at the ready. Leon was about to head in a third direction when his attention was caught by the sound of movement.

Somebody was struggling through the bushes.

Leon held his hand tight on his sword, but didn't withdraw the blade just yet. "Who goes there?"

More rustling. No response.

"I said," he repeated, "Who goes there? Show yourself!"

And show himself he did: a little boy, no older than seven or eight, stepped out. Blond haired and blue eyed, he was wearing a white tunic that was clearly much too big for him— in fact, it was almost a dress. He was wearing breeches, as far as Leon could see, but they were also much too big, and he was holding them up with one hand, a belt gripped tightly in the other. Leon took his hand off his sword's hilt.

"Hello," he said gently. The boy, who had been stumbling through the grass as his feet tangled up in his breeches, looked up in surprise. He had been too focused on watching where he was going. "Are you lost? Where are you parents?"

"My parents are dead," the boy said in that straightforward manner children often have. This put Leon at a loss for words, so he stuttered uselessly for a moment.

In the interim, Percival called out, "I've found something!"

Turns out he meant someone. The large knight returned to the clearing pulling forward two other children wearing overly large clothes (wearing wasn't really the word to be honest), one a small girl with black hair, and the other a taller boy with playful brown eyes.

Elyan, who had hastened back at the sound of Percival's yell, turned to the blond boy and gently asked, "What's your name, child?"

Leon wasn't surprised when the little boy said, "Arthur."

Looking around the clearing at the three children and his two, dumbfounded colleagues (no doubt coming to the same realization he had), Leon realized that they were in a world of trouble.

Triple damnit.

AN: Happy holidays, all! Hopefully the wait for this chapter wasn't too bad? I did say around Christmas, right? Let me know what you think about it :)

best,

tinyrose65