A/N: This is from a play by post RP between my sister (B.A. Murdock here) and myself, with another friend, joining us later on. So in addition to the usual disclaimer of not owning the BBC's Merlin, I do not own a good 2/3 of this story, I am merely the lucky one who gets to post it and share it with you all.

This is an alternate universe from the finale of Season 3, so spoilers to that point: the main changes being that Arthur is King, Guinevere is Queen, and Lancelot is still alive.

…And, of course, Leon and Gwaine are bigger characters.

WARNINGS: No slash, though there will eventually be a gay relationship (there is a difference). Language, violence, and sexual content slightly amped up from what we expect from Merlin.

…

THE ODD COUPLE: THE ADVENTURES OF SIR LEON AND SIR GWAINE

…

"It is exceptional and difficult to find in one man all the qualities necessary for a great general. That which is most desirable and instantly sets a man apart, is that his intelligence or talent be balanced by his character or courage. If his courage is the greater, a general heedlessly undertakes things beyond his ability. If on the contrary his character or courage is less than his intelligence, he does not dare carry out his plans."
—Napoleon Bonaparte.

…

"The King will see you now, my lord."

Sir Leon had to work hard to keep his grin of excitement off his face as he nodded to the squire and entered King Arthur's study. Though he knew it was silly, he felt like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment. He could feel butterflies twittering in his stomach as he bowed before Arthur, and flashed a very brief smile to Gwen at his side. They made a handsome couple, now even more so, still dressed in the formal wear of the wedding that morning and their cheeks still glowing with excitement. The King and Queen beamed at him. Merlin bustled about the room, too busy packing for more than a nod at Leon.

"Ah! Sir Leon!" Arthur said amiably. "Sorry for calling on you at such short notice."

"Not at all, sire."

"Good old Leon! How did all the knights like the wedding feast? Spectacular, eh? I hope you tried the venison, Gwen says it was marvelous! And I've no idea how Merlin got those fireworks to go off in the hall!" He gave a boisterous laugh, obviously quite drunk with more things than bridegroom pleasure on his wedding night.

"It was very fine, sire."

"And as for the company! I don't believe I've ever seen so much dancing in Camelot in my life! Though I hear the night was better for some than others!" He slapped Leon on the shoulder, who colored instantly: he had not thought that the king actually noticed him introducing himself to Elaine, Lord Bernard's daughter. He himself had been quite drunk at the time, or he would have never spoken to her—he had worshipped the girl for several years in silence.

He certainly did not want to talk about his love life in front of a man six years his junior, King or no. He tried to think of a good excuse. "Well, my lord—"

"I'm sure Sir Leon does not need to restate the night's festivities," Gwen said, catching Leon's eye with sympathy.

"Of course!" Arthur said, winking nonetheless. "Never mind, never mind. I'll leave you to it! I am leaving you to it, in fact! You know, of course, as Captain of the Round Table Knights, you will act as a steward for me while we're on honeymoon. And since we're taking Merlin with us, that should uncomplicate your life somewhat," Arthur laughed as Merlin made a face at the King.

Leon's heart caught in his throat. He hadn't expected it to be so suddenly presented to him! But there was no time for embarrassed surprise. He'd never get another chance like this—in every way he had to be the best steward Camelot had ever known. "I—I thank you, sire, for the privilege—I swear to look after Camelot with all the wisdom and discernment I possess, and—"

"Yes, yes, yes," Arthur said, interrupting him in the middle of his oath. "I know you'll do fine. Now, I've told Gwaine to meet you here tomorrow morning, and you can start getting the kingdom ready for my reign when I return. How long do you think we'll be, Gwen? A fortnight…?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, I suppose a fortnight is far too short a time. Make it a month. On second thought, leave our arrival date unfixed."

"No, I mean—" Leon stammered, "E—But, Sir Gwaine, my lord? Should I not seek the council of all the Knights of the Round Table in my decisions?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course, Leon!" Arthur said. "But since Gwaine is to be steward as well, I think you ought to work together fairly closely."

Leon blinked. "Gwaine? A steward?"

"Yes, I want you both to work together."

"Together?" he said weakly.

"Yes! It was Merlin's idea."

"Merlin's?"

"Really Leon, you sound like a bloody parrot!"

"But—" Leon didn't know whether to feel disgusted or terrified. "Why?"

"I didn't really want to get into this," Arthur said irritably, "But the truth is, Leon, you do act like the castle whetnurse sometimes."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Leon exclaimed, and just barely remembered to add, "Sire."

"You're too cautious, Leon. Loyal and brave to be sure, but you've got to learn to work in difficult situations. You've been looking after me like a nanny since I was twelve, but ruling a kingdom requires the iron glove and quick mind. Tradition's all well and good, but Gwaine's seen more of the world than you, and he knows a thing or two about making decisions quickly from the gut, without having to take the time to think them through."

"My lord, with all due respect, Gwaine is far too reckless, and he's somewhat of a vagabond!"

"I'm sure he'd take that as a compliment."

Leon started feeling as if he was losing ground. "But—I thought—this was meant to be a test—"

"It is! For both of you, really. You know, if you can get through three months or so without killing one another I did plan to give you some of the South woods each."

"The South woods?"

"There you go parroting again! I know how fond you are of those woods." He grinned and slapped Leon on the shoulder again. "Don't worry, Leon! We all have complete faith in you. Oh, remember to get someone to lock the gates on our way out."

…

Gwaine woke from the blurry oppression of sleep whose haze he knew only too well. She was a fine mistress, certainly, though an exacting one: but good or ill, drink had been his mistress this night.

And oh, what a night.

Gwaine judged the successes of last night upon waking entangled in five or so bodies, attired, as he was, as poor hermits with not a scrap of cloth to their name. What a holy night it must have been, then, ha ha! He was certain he remembered taking the Lord's name quite often.

Blinking sluggishly, Gwaine surveyed his companions: four were attractive, the last passable and—ooh, okay, not actually a woman. Oops.

Gwaine shrugged, too hungover just now to care about anything other than acquiring a tankard of water. He carefully extricated himself from the still-sleeping pile, found his clothes (or what he guessed were his clothes) and dressed sloppily. It was a holiday, right? Drinks on the house during holidays, he was sure that was a rule. But, you know, best to shin down the drain to avoid an encounter with the innkeeper just to be on the safe side. The last time his pocketbook could keep pace with him, he hadn't been tall enough to reach the bar.

Which, okay, all short jokes aside, had been quite some time ago. It was really sad how rarely he got truly rip-roaring-mad-drunk anymore, simply because he couldn't afford it. Princess—oh, sorry, Prince—rather, King Arthur's wedding to the lovely Gwen was the perfect excuse.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he was forgetting something. Probably important. It usually was, when he couldn't remember.

Oh, well. First things first.

"God, Owen, you're up early!" Gwaine exclaimed as he staggered over to his favorite baker's cart.

"Gwaine, lad! Early? Half the town may be abed, but they day's still gone on. It's nearing midday."

"Is it?" Gwaine squinted up for the first time, a bad idea, as the clearly noonday sun blinded him. "Oh. So it is! And what a beautiful day!"

"So what'll it be? The usual?"

"Oh, Owen," Gwaine moaned, holding his belly dramatically, "take pity on a man who had far too much of a good thing last night! I'll have two pies, a jam butty, and a, em, sausage roll."

"Aye, I'll have it right up."

"And for the love of our Dear Lord in Heaven and the name of King Arthur, Baker, could I beg you for a cup of water?"

Owen Baker shook his head and grinned. "For you, Sir Gwaine, anything."

"Ah-ah, and I told you about the 'Sir' thing. Unofficial business here."

"Right. Undercover, is that it?"

"Yeah, that's right. Undercover, that's me." Under covers, more like! Gwaine giggled and accepted the greasy paper-wrapped food, but took the cup of water greedily, and drank it down first. "Oh, thank you, you're a life saver. What's the damage?"

"Three pence."

"Here's four," Gwaine offered, still feeling guilty about the bar tab, but taking comfort in the knowledge that despite his successful escape the bill would eventually be sent to Arthur or, well, probably in the meantime, Leon, who—

Sir Leon.

"Bugger!"

…

Leon sat quietly in King Arthur's study, forcing himself not to look at the door or out the window. It was a bitter struggle, and to pass the time he pulled out a journal and started to write.

Steward's Log, Day 1.

Awaiting the arrival of my… Here he paused for a moment before he forced himself to write, fellow knight Sir Gwaine, who will be working with me to rule Camelot while Arthur is away on honeymoon. First order of business shall be to discuss our action plan.

He nodded at this, particularly proud of "action plan"—It sounded very "iron glove". He continued.

Second, shall be informing the knights and dividing duties, to more effectively see to Camelot's needs. Third, shall be execution of those duties: recruit training, establishing the new budget, accommodating the wedding guests, and executing Gwaine for being late to his own meeting—

He scratched that out quickly until it was illegible, and sat back with a sigh. Gwaine was all right, of course. Arthur and Merlin liked him very much, and so Leon had always tried to be polite and respectful to the man. But despite his strong personality of friendliness Gwaine always seemed to treat him a little warily. Which was ridiculous—why should he distrust a knight of Camelot—the Captain of the Round Table, of all people? Perhaps it was because he didn't exactly trust Gwaine, either. After all, what did he know about the Code of Chivalry?

Leon glanced out the window, again measuring the height of the sun in the sky with his hands. Gwaine certainly did not know how to arrive on time for a meeting.

He was being rude and foolish. Perhaps Gwaine had gotten himself into some sort of trouble? What if an accident occurred during last night's meeting? What if he was injured somewhere?

Suddenly restless, Leon stood up and went to the window, scanning the courtyard below for any sign that someone may have gotten hurt last night. But there were no worried maids running across the courtyard, no sign of Gaius hobbling urgently to his apothecary. He just saw the knights training like they usually did.

Though—that was very strange—they did not usually go to training without him…

Just then he saw a chestnut-haired figure jump out from behind a tower shield, and order the knights into formation.

It was Gwaine!

"What the—?" Leon spluttered. Then he sighed, and, careful to grab his journal, ran off toward the stairs.

...

TBC