[Third Person Pov]
The next morning, Arthur and Lance stood at the edge of the training grounds, their breath misting faintly in the cool dawn air. The faint glow of sunrise painted the castle walls in pale gold, while the dew-covered grass sparkled under the early light. As usual, the two were limbering up for their morning routine — a daily ritual they had kept with near religious consistency.
Both were in the middle of stretching, preparing for their first run of the day, when a voice called out behind them.
"Hope you boys don't mind if we join you?"
They turned to see Merlin strolling toward them, already dressed in her own training attire. Her long hair was tied up into a high ponytail that bounced with every step, and she looked infuriatingly energetic for such an early hour.
Trailing a few steps behind her, however, was Gwyneth — and she was the complete opposite. Her hair was tangled, her eyelids drooped, and she wore the expression of someone who had been dragged out of bed against her will.
Arthur tried to suppress a laugh at the sight while Lance raised an amused brow. "What are you two doing here?" he asked, glancing between them, though most of his attention was fixed on Gwyneth's zombie-like state.
"Well," Merlin began cheerfully, placing her hands on her hips, "Gwyneth here wanted to tag along for your morning training, and I realized I've been neglecting my own conditioning. So, we thought — why not join you two today?" She arched an eyebrow teasingly. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not," Arthur replied with a grin, clearly entertained by Gwyneth's regretful expression. "The more the merrier, as they say."
"You bunch of animals," Gwyneth muttered under her breath, covering her mouth with a yawn. "How can you all look so alive at this hour? The bloody sun isn't even fully out yet!" She motioned weakly toward the horizon, where the golden edge of the sun was barely cresting over the hills.
"We're used to it," the three of them replied in perfect unison, their faces expressionless.
Arthur chuckled softly. "I was just like you when I started. It takes time for your body to adapt to waking up early and moving before breakfast. You'll get used to it eventually."
Gwyneth groaned. "Well, it better adapt quickly, because we haven't even started and I already hate this." She rubbed her eyes miserably as Merlin laughed.
They exchanged amused looks before beginning to guide her through a few basic stretches. Merlin demonstrated proper form while Arthur gave calm instructions.
"Ugh, how is this fair?" Gwyneth complained, straining to reach down. "I'm the girl here — how are you two more flexible than I am?!" She wiggled her fingers helplessly toward her toes, earning a small snort from Lance.
After several minutes of stretching and grumbling, they finally lined up for their run. The instant Arthur gave the word, Gwyneth bolted forward, her messy hair flying behind her.
"Haha! Suckers!" she shouted triumphantly over her shoulder.
Arthur blinked, then exchanged glances with Lance and Merlin as they jogged. "Alright," he said dryly, "so who's going to tell her that this isn't a race and she's just wasting her stamina?"
Lance sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, I'll do it…"
With a resigned breath, he increased his pace, quickly closing the distance between them.
By the time he caught up, Gwyneth was bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for air. She looked up at him with disbelief. "Come again? You do what?"
"I said," Lance repeated patiently, "Arthur and I usually run around the entire Hogwarts castle. Multiple times. We don't just do one lap and call it a day. And, in case you haven't noticed, the castle is enormous — it takes several minutes to cover even a single circuit."
Gwyneth groaned dramatically. "You bunch of masochists! That sounds like absolute torture! How can you willingly subject yourselves to this?"
Lance rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. "Since this is your first time running properly, just finish one lap. That'll be your victory for today."
From there, he took on the role of her coach, teaching her the basics of proper running: how to control her breathing, maintain a steady rhythm, and keep her posture relaxed. He stayed beside her the entire way, adjusting his speed to match hers, offering small bits of advice and encouragement.
Meanwhile, Arthur and Merlin were far ahead — and yet somehow, every few minutes, they circled back and passed the pair again.
"On your left," Arthur called teasingly as he dashed by.
Merlin chuckled, clearly catching the reference. Gwyneth, however, shot him a murderous glare.
"On your left!" Arthur repeated cheerfully once he lapped her again.
"I heard you the first time!" she snapped between gasps, which only made Arthur and Merlin burst out laughing.
Gwyneth grit her teeth and muttered, "I know, I know — on my left…" She was drenched in sweat now, her arms swinging as she struggled to keep her pace. Her breath came out in ragged bursts, her face flushed, but even through her exhaustion, there was a flicker of stubborn determination in her eyes.
Lance, running beside her, couldn't help but smile. "You're doing better than you think," he said encouragingly.
"Don't— talk— to me— right— now," she managed between gulps of air.
Arthur's laughter echoed faintly ahead of them as the sun finally broke over the horizon, bathing the four of them in warm morning light.
Once Gwyneth finally crossed the finish line, she dropped to her hands and knees, panting like she had just escaped death itself. Her hair clung to her sweat-damp face, her chest rising and falling in desperate heaves. With one final wheeze, she flopped onto her back, arms and legs sprawled out on the grass.
"Guys… I can't anymore…" she gasped, her voice weak and dramatic. "I'm completely murked… I can't feel… my legs…"
Lance crouched beside her, a grin tugging at his lips despite his effort to stay serious. "You know," he said gently, "for your first time, you were actually great out there. Not everyone can do this without giving up halfway."
"Mum didn't raise a quitter!" Gwyneth exclaimed, raising one trembling fist into the air like a fallen warrior still clinging to her pride. Her arm immediately flopped back down as she groaned in defeat.
Arthur chuckled while Merlin covered her mouth to hide a laugh. Gwyneth, despite her exhaustion, couldn't help but smile faintly. The praise from the others filled her with a small, quiet sense of pride. For once, she didn't feel like the weak link of the group.
She reached both hands toward them, fingers opening and closing pitifully. "A little help here? I'd stand up, but… my body doesn't remember how to move."
They all rolled their eyes in unison, but Arthur and Lance each took one of her arms and hauled her upright. She wobbled like a newborn deer before leaning heavily on both of them for balance.
This became the start of an unexpected new routine.
Every morning, before the sun had fully risen, Gwyneth dragged herself out of bed — sometimes with Merlin's help, sometimes by sheer willpower — and joined Arthur and Lance for training. Each session ended the same: she'd run until her legs gave out, collapse dramatically, and swear she'd never do it again. And yet, every morning, she showed up once more.
By the end of the week, she was living in a constant state of half-conscious misery. Her hair was always a mess, her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, and she could barely keep her head up during lectures. On more than one occasion, she was caught dozing off in class — once even snoring softly into her Herbology textbook.
Arthur and Lance, feeling somewhat responsible, started quietly helping her with her homework in the evenings. Lance would quiz her on potions ingredients while Arthur wrote out essay outlines for her to copy. Between the two of them, they made sure she still passed her classes, even if her brain had melted halfway through the week.
Despite the struggle, something subtle was changing in Gwyneth. Her endurance improved little by little. Her complaints grew shorter, her pace steadier. She began to laugh more during runs — not because it was easy, but because she started enjoying the company.
And then came the morning of the next big Quidditch match: Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff.
The castle buzzed with excitement, banners fluttering across the corridors. But for Gwyneth, excitement was the last thing on her mind.
Merlin was practically dragging her through the hallway, Gwyneth's arm slung over her shoulder as the girl whimpered in agony. "I don't think I can go on much longer!" she cried dramatically, every step a struggle.
"I honestly don't understand why you're putting yourself through this," Merlin said, half-exasperated, half-amused. "I get wanting to spend time with Arthur and Lance, but surely that can't be the only reason."
For once, Gwyneth didn't respond with sarcasm or a joke. She fell silent, her eyes downcast as the castle staircases began to shift and groan around them. The rhythmic creaking of stone filled the quiet between them.
"It's… not just Arthur and Lance," Gwyneth finally admitted, her voice soft. "It's you, too."
Merlin glanced sideways at her, one brow raised in curiosity. Gwyneth's usual playfulness had faded, replaced by a vulnerable expression Merlin wasn't used to seeing.
"I didn't have many friends growing up," Gwyneth said quietly, her tone almost trembling. "It was… hard. My family's kind of well-known, and people always treated me differently because of it. The first time I thought I'd made a real friend, I got a little too excited. She told me later the only reason she hung out with me was because her parents wanted to get closer to mine— that she never actually liked me, that I was just… annoying."
Merlin slowed her pace. "I see," she said softly. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Gwyneth gave a weak chuckle. "After that, I stopped trying to make friends, It was hard trusting people after that. I started talking to my plants instead." She scratched her cheek in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact. "They were quiet, at least. Never told me I was annoying. I guess that's why I like Herbology so much — my plants were the only friends I was able to make."
Her voice trailed off for a moment. Then, with a shy smile, she added, "It's embarrassing, but… that's why I really treasure you three. You, Lance, and Arthur. You actually talk to me. You don't treat me like I'm a nuisance, or like my family name matters. You just… treat me like me."
Merlin said nothing for a while, simply supporting her as they walked. She looked at Gwyneth — hair disheveled, eyes tired, clothes rumpled — yet smiling despite it all.
As they turned a corner toward the dormitory stairs, Merlin couldn't help but think, 'It's honestly getting harder and harder to picture her as the former Queen of Camelot.'
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