Hidden Intricacies

Chapter One – The Conversation

"You don't have to continue on this journey with me, you know," Merlin said lowly. His voice was surprisingly deep and rough – Lancelot wondered when that had happened, and why he hadn't noticed it before. He was certain that it had been smoother when they first met. Perhaps it was an after-effect of his recently-cured illness?

He managed a small laugh, because the idea of him not continuing was really quite ridiculous. He was a knight, and Merlin was a servant. Imagine what people would say if Merlin continued on while he ran home! Not to mention, he'd made a promise to Guinevere. And then there was the other reason... the one he was pointedly trying not to think about, especially when he was in such close proximity to Merlin.

"Try and stop me," he told Merlin challengingly, a cheeky grin spread across his face. He held out the bottle, and Merlin accepted the silent offering.

"Why?" The question was asked like Merlin already knew the answer, although Lancelot knew that it wasn't the case. The boy– man, he had to remind himself, as Merlin was definitely no longer a child –had some misconstrued ideas that were true once, but no longer. "Because you're a knight, you feel honour bound?"

Lancelot considered the sorcerer's words for a moment. That answer would have been true once. How he'd dreamed of being decked in shining armour, galloping through the lands at Prince Arthur's side. He'd have done it even if he wasn't a knight. He remembered, before Uther lost his mind, he'd done just that – dropped everything at a word from Merlin, just to save Arthur.

He probably still would continue with this perilous mission just because he was a knight, he thought. Probably.

It wasn't the reason he'd refuse Merlin's offer to turn back, though. "You wouldn't understand," Lancelot said, trying to keep his voice light. "It doesn't make any sense to me, either."

And it didn't. He didn't know what it was about the dark-haired, annoying, amazing boy sitting before him, but Lancelot was enraptured by him. The word he'd like to use was enchanted but, given what he knew about Merlin, he didn't think it was entirely appropriate. He'd almost think that he was enchanted by him, if it weren't for the fact that Merlin was so incredibly oblivious to everything.

It didn't make sense, but somehow, at the same time, it did. Lancelot knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was irrevocably, head over heels in love with Merlin. That was where his certainty ended, however.

How could he be in love with Merlin, of all people? Lancelot was certainly no noble snob, but he'd expected to spend the rest of his days pining after Guinevere, or courting some other lovely lady, even if she wasn't of high social standing. He'd expected to ride off into the sunset on a perilous adventure with some barmaid's handkerchief in his belt, so that he could impress her and gain her favour. He hadn't expected to brave death and mauling and magic and worse because he wanted to protect – and be close to – some servant boy who was hiding his entire life from most of his closest friends.

"Gwen?" Another wrong guess by Merlin. It was almost a statement, and it proved to Lancelot that he wasn't the only one who'd expected that he'd fall in love with her.

"I made her a vow I would keep Arthur safe," Lancelot replied, which was true. He'd keep Arthur safe for Gwen – not that he'd have let anything happen to him in the first place. He was the prince, after all. And it would hurt Merlin more than Lancelot could comprehend if Arthur were to come to harm. So even without the vow, he'd give his life to protect Arthur.

But it wouldn't hurt to keep that bit of information from Merlin.

"You don't have to worry," Merlin responded, without missing a beat. "I'll keep him safe."

Those words clenched at Lancelot's heart, for several reasons.

It was said with such surety that spoke volumes; Merlin knew that, even without magic, he'd protect his prince. Even though it would mean his life, Merlin would keep Arthur from harm. No matter the perils, no matter how scary the situation, no matter how angry he was with Arthur, he'd give his life for him without a second of hesitation.

It was the haste with which he said the words: eager to claim his right to protect Arthur above anyone else's, because he knew that was what he was supposed to do. It was what he wanted to do. Arthur was a prince, and Merlin knew that he was nothing but a servant. It was all he could ever be. But when Arthur was in danger and Merlin could use his powers to save him, then he got to be more. It didn't even matter that Arthur couldn't know what Merlin did, or that the 'more' that Merlin got to be was not the 'more' he wanted.

And, above anything, it was the reassurance that came with those words. Because Merlin cared. He cared about people; about his friends, and about people he barely knew. Lancelot knew that no matter what he did, no matter how many times he sacrificed himself, no matter who he managed to save from some peril, he would never be as good a person as Merlin. It had broken his heart when he'd buried his feelings for Gwen so that Arthur could pursue her. In some ways, it had been the most selfless thing he'd ever done. But even that couldn't make him more selfless than Merlin, because Merlin did noble and selfless things without others knowing. Sometimes, he did these things without himself knowing.

Like now, when he was sacrifice himself, and his first concern was keeping Lancelot safe. When he should be accepting Lancelot's help in the protection of his prince, but instead was reassuring Lancelot that he wasn't needed, in an attempt to protect him.

It was in these moments that Lancelot knew exactly why he was here.

"I made a vow, Merlin," Lancelot told him, because there was no way he was leaving Merlin alone. There was silence for a moment.

Unsurprisingly, Merlin broke it. "You still think about her?" It was half question, half statement.

"No," Lancelot replied, although he doubted Merlin would believe him. Sure enough, he got a doubtful glance from the young sorcerer. "Arthur's… a better man than me," he continued, and he was no longer talking about Gwen. Now he thought about it, why was everyone so infatuated with Arthur? Or, at least, why were all the people Lancelot didn't want to be infatuated with him, infatuated with him?

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, and for a moment Lancelot thought he'd figured it out. But then reality caught up with him and he realised it was just a general expression of condolence.

"Why?" Lancelot half-laughed. "He loves her," 'you' he thought, "and she's happy." Or, at least, as happy as Merlin would be with Arthur. Maybe Gwen would have returned his feelings at the start, but he knew that Merlin wouldn't. Far better to keep things the way they were and save any of the awkwardness that might occur.

Merlin looked extremely unhappy at this resignation, but lapsed back into silence.

A/N: I'll be continuing with this, until I've covered at least the entire episode. This is my response to the injustice that is Lancelot's death. While I'm much more of a Merlin/Arthur person myself, I'm horrified that the writers have done this! Lancelot was probably the best character there, and there is little doubt that he was the noblest. I shall be in mourning for him for at least the time it takes me to write this fanfiction.

Please review!