Eve Andric and The Children of The Story

Chapter 25: Raphael

It didn't take Gwaine and Lana very long to be welcomed into the castle as the latest participants. Most of the servants and other occupants of the castle considered Gwaine with morbid but slightly hopeful expressions, and he thought he heard a few of them whisper, "Could he be the one?"

He looked at Lana and whispered, "They're staring at us."

"They think you'll be the one to figure out what's happening to the princesses," Lana replied in the same tone. "Relax. Act natural."

"How is one supposed to do that?" Gwaine asked honestly. He'd never been very good at "acting natural".

Lana laughed. "I can tell," she said. He made a face. "What? It's true! You look like a deer facing the hunter's arrow!"

"I don't really have much of an opportunity to be 'normal' in Camelot," Gwaine protested.

Lana raised her eyebrows. "First of all, don't go talking about Camelot in other Stories!" she hissed. "That's just going to get you unwanted attention. Second of all, leave all the talking to me. I'm your servant, remember? You're a high-class, arrogant noble."

"I look like a peasant," Gwaine muttered. "Look at me. I haven't bathed in days."

Lana elbowed him in the side. "You can do it when you get to your room. Remember, don't drink the wine the princesses give you at dinner!"

"How could I forget?" Gwaine said. "You keep reminding me."

The bard had the grace to smile. "I suppose you're right," she agreed. She touched his shoulder. "I guess I'm just worried about you. Emrys seemed so upset when you were missing."

Gwaine sighed. "He's always worried about me. You'd think he was the older brother instead of me. I don't even have the excuse that he was born first to blame for his having magic—err, I mean, our parents' talents."

"Magic doesn't make happiness," Lana told him, looking perfectly serious for once. "I should know. I just got mine and I hate it. I think you're lucky, not having it. I bet Emrys thinks the same thing as well."

Avoiding Lana's gaze, Gwaine stared at his feet. Maybe she was right. Maybe magic wasn't the key to happiness. But sometimes, it felt like it was, when his parents doted on his sorcerer brother and spent almost all their time teaching him new spells. She didn't understand. Lana nudged Gwaine with her arm. "I think this is your room," she said. "Go on, go ahead in. I'll see you later, after you eat with the princesses."

Gwaine stared at her as if she'd struck him with lightning. "Wait, what?" he cried. "Aren't you going to be there?"

"Of course not," Lana answered. "A servant wouldn't escort her master to dinner when his host is supposed to be supplying him with the servants. Don't worry so much, Gwaine. It's going to be fine, as long as you don't—"

"Drink the wine the princesses give me, I know," Gwaine said with a sigh. "Thank you for all the help." He put as much sarcasm into his voice as possible.

The bard gave him a sweet, teasing smile. "It's my pleasure," she said.

Gwaine felt bad. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm glad you're here with me, of course."

She winked at him. "Don't apologize. You're my master, after all." With another teasing grin, the oddly cheerful bard skipped off down the hallway.