Prologue

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Everybody knew all there was to know about Gwaine. He was easy going, always drinking in a tavern somewhere and perpetually looking for a fight. And that was all anyone needed to know.

They didn't ask what rage drove him to fight and what sorrow drove him to drink. They didn't ask why he travelled far and wide when the city had plenty of taverns willing to take a knight's money. They just shook their head and said "There goes Gwaine, again." and watched him ride out the gates at break neck speeds.
No one noticed the letters that preceded these drinking sessions. The servants saw nothing mysterious in the odd pile of ash by a candle in the middle of the day. Knights got messages frequently and whilst some knights would have professed surprise at Gwaine's being able to read, no one remarked that a knight without family got an awful lot of letters from outside the city.

Some of the younger knights would watch from the training fields, jealously, as Gwaine returned. Plodding in on a tired horse with a quiet smile and rumpled clothes. He always had the best stories, had the best adventures and he always went alone so there was no one to refute them.

Sometimes the Prince, would task the younger knights to follow Gwaine. He told himself it was just for the practice: good training. But he couldn't quite hide his annoyance each time they slunk back having lost the errant knight.
The Prince played with the idea of following Gwaine himself. Taking only a couple of his best knights with him. They could follow Gwaine and see if his adventures were real or the imaginings of a drunken fever. Each time Gwaine left, the Prince would say to himself, "Next time, there are more important tasks for today." He would never live it down if he lost a drunken fool riding through forests in crimson.
Months and years passed. Squires became knights but they still couldn't keep pace with Gwaine when he rode out. The Prince, exasperated with the reckless behaviour and missed adventures, tried to keep Gwaine in the city. He would assign the knight training duties, make him lead the night watch or stand as ceremonial guard in endless meetings and functions. Still Gwaine would escape every second he wasn't on duty. Sometimes just for a night, being back to take up his post with red eyes and sly yawns the next morning. Sometimes he would be gone for just an hour or two, between tasks, returning sullen with tousled hair.

Increasingly though, the piles of ash would be followed by the knight charging to the squires stables and a squire would fly through the gates where a knight used to. These days went unnoticed by the Prince and fellow knights. But were usually followed by day of ruthless training sessions for the squires or hours of insolent glares from guard posts that the others grew to dread.

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