Title: A Knight of Camelot
Category: Gen (Canon)
Characters: Lancelot, Merlin
Summary: Lancelot feels happy, or does he? Set at the end of Series 3.
Author's Note: My first Merlin Ficlet. A HUGE thank you to Heather for the Beta. :-)
A Knight of Camelot
Sir Lancelot had the feeling that everyone around him thought he was content, even happy. After he'd been knighted by Prince Arthur, they had defeated Morgana and her army of immortal men, and he'd been given a fine new home in the knight's quarters of the citadel. He had a room all to himself, and more clothes and boots than he could hope to fill in a week.
But was he really happy? For many years, as long as he could remember if he were being honest with himself, it had been his dream to become a Knight of Camelot. All he'd ever wanted was to serve the King, or at least the Prince of Camelot, with honour. But he felt slightly empty now that his wish had finally been fulfilled.
And then, there was Guinevere. His heart was still hers, and he was certain that her heart had once belonged to him as well. But that was in the past, for she loved Prince Arthur now. He truly wished both of them all the best. As long as she was happy, so was he.
Or was he?
Yes, he could certainly see why his fellow knights and everyone else thought he was satisfied in his new role. He played the part really well and no one asked any questions.
No one except Merlin.
Lancelot had made his way to the training grounds that evening, where he stood gazing up at the star filled sky as he lost himself in thought. He knew his friends, especially Gwaine, were probably on their way to the tavern at that time, but he much preferred to spend the hours after sundown simply enjoying the silence of the closing day.
"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"
He was startled at first by the voice that came from behind him, but soon realized there was no need for it, as he recognized the familiar stance of Merlin's lanky silhouette in the semi darkness.
"Yes, it is," Lancelot responded with a smile. Merlin came to stand beside him, and they both lifted their eyes to the heavens above.
Neither of them spoke for a while, but there was nothing awkward or uneasy about the silence between them. From the moment he'd met the goofy young man with his quirky nature and magical abilities, Lancelot had always felt comfortable in his presence, and knew that sentiment was returned. He respected Merlin very much; he was certainly as brave as any knight, and possessed an intelligence that was downright uncanny at times.
"How are you settling in?" Merlin asked, and Lancelot wasn't surprised by the question. There he was playing the happy knight, when deep down inside it pained him every time he caught so much as a glimpse of Guinevere. Of course, he genuinely wanted her to be happy, but that didn't mean it was easy.
Everyone else might have been fooled by his cheerful demeanour, but Merlin was far too perceptive for that. He'd probably sensed it long before Lancelot had even realized the truth for himself, and had come to offer his support. That was Merlin - always there for his friends in need, never realizing how much they loved him for it.
"I'm doing well, thank you, Merlin. Yourself?
"Really?" Merlin asked sceptically, making it clear that he didn't intend to be distracted from the subject he'd come to talk about. Lancelot winced as he realized there would be no getting around the truth with his magical friend, but he knew that it was probably best to just be honest rather than continue to try and dodge the real question.
"I should feel overjoyed now that I'm a Knight of Camelot," Lancelot admitted with a strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I don't."
"Guinevere," Merlin didn't ask the question, merely stated a fact. "I am sorry, Lancelot."
"All I really want is for her to be happy, and I know she is," Lancelot said with a deep sigh. "I also know I had to give her up for her to have what she has now. It's hard, but I don't want to wallow in self-pity either."
"Lancelot," Merlin said, placing a firm, supportive hand on his shoulder. "You are so hopeful and courageous that I don't even think you know what it means to feel sorry for yourself. Giving up doesn't mean you're weak. Sometimes, it just means that you are strong enough to let go."
Lancelot raised an eyebrow as he considered the truth in Merlin's words. He studied the young man's eyes in the darkness, noticing a slight glimmer reflected by the moonlight; a subtle spark that looked very much like wisdom. It never ceased to amaze him the way Merlin could change from nothing more than a simple servant into a wise, powerful warlock in the blink of an eye.
Lancelot smiled again, feeling the contented expression actually reach his eyes this time. "Thank you, Merlin," he said simply, feeling far less sad and lonely than he had before. He turned and placed his own hand on Merlin's bony shoulder, grateful to have such a supportive friend. "Thank you."
"MERLIN!"
Prince Arthur's loud, irritated voice could be heard clearly, even though it travelled to their ears all the way from somewhere near the south gate.
"Ah, I have to go. Destiny's calling," Merlin grinned at Lancelot, instantly morphing back into the humble servant that everyone else believed him to be. It was amazing how well adapted he was to the role.
Lancelot grinned back. "You could always change him into a toad."
"Don't tempt me."
And with that, the young man turned on his heels with a slightly naughty smile on his face, then raced off to see what the cranky sounding Prince might want from him at that late hour. Maybe the man couldn't find his sleeping robe? Lancelot wondered, chuckling quietly at the idea.
Not only was Sir Lancelot a Knight of Camelot at long last, but he was lucky enough to have friends like Merlin around to support him. What more could he possibly want?
The End