#argwiane

He's not an easy man to love, no quite the opposite.

Gwaine didn't see what Merlin saw. To Merlin, Arthur is a promise of something great. Something he hasn't divulged to Gwaine just yet-but he can tell it's beautiful.

Gwaine -to put it lightly- saw an ass.

There's something though, when you scratch past that surface layer of pride and station.

A gentle fondness in those eyes as they look out among men he trusts with his life, and has vowed to return home. A fierce loyalty, a true bleeding heart, and a borderline reckless stubborn nature.

These are the lovable parts of Arthur. Everything else is a little hit or miss.

Gwaine has first watch.

So he notices when Arthur slinks out of his shared tent with Merlin, walking further into the forest. Gwaine gives it five minutes before he decides it best to assure the king's safety.

He's not sure when he reached the point of leaving the group for the one. But he imagines it's a standard thing for a knight to do, so he doesn't question it as his feet bring him further out into the forest.

The moon hangs high in the sky, only half smiling down on them, but it's light bathes their forms just as well.

Arthur stands at the edge of a brook, his back turned to Gwaine. Words catch in his throat, unable to disturb the scene. He's never been for lack of a wry comment, or even a general observation. Yet he says nothing.

Midnight's song stretches between them, and he wonders if Arthur can feel him staring.

His stomach drops when the king begins to turn around, and he knows that he will be caught.

"My lord," Gwaine forces out at last.

Arthur finds him in the dim light with ease, "Gwaine."

"Are you alright?"

Arthur's eyes are tired, falling closed in that way eyes tend to do when you don't have the energy to lie, but know you must. A sharp inhale follows, "I will be."

Nothing more is said as they trek back to the campsite, side by side. Gwaine tries to keep his eyes on the path ahead, but they drift to his king over and over again. Slowly but surely he falls slightly behind the man, watching the line of shoulders. Taunt, set with a knowledge Gwaine is not privy to.

When the campsite comes into his line of vision he watches. He finds himself doing that more and more with Arthur.

He watches the way his lips tighten. He watches rigid shoulders square themselves as though to brace against a storm.

"Whats bothering you?" Gwaine finally whispers.

Arthur glances back at him, the furrow of his brow just barely softening, "It's nothing."

Gwaine wonders when he started to become offended by Arthur's cagey nature. But he does not pry.

"If you say so, your majesty."

Arthur's nose scrunches. And Gwaine wonders when he started being endeared by such motions.

"Goodnight Gwaine."

The very real, almost frightening urge to reach out for the king courses through him. His fist clenches, and he keeps his hands firmly at his side.