Hello good readers! Here is the Knight one shot some of you have been waiting for. I don't know if I'll be able to update till the end of the week, but here's hoping! Again, I urge all of you to vote on the poll on my profile before Wednesday night because that's when I shall close it. I'm really hoping I can write my Gwen gender bend soon-sorry! Don't vote for her if you don't want to. I'll just fit it in on chapter eight.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE TELEVISION SHOW MERLIN NOR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS!
This one-shot is a Lancelot/Merlin pairing, and the genre is angst. One sided feelings.
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What happened? I never saw him. Why did he do that? How could he do this? How could he do this to me? I never told him.
Merlin was sitting on his bed, hunched over the side. His face was stony, and closed off. He had been in the same exact position since the end of the pseudo funeral, which had ended hours earlier in the day. No one had come to check on the manservant, not even Gaius, and that was just fine. Merlin did not want to see anyone. Did not want to drink to the noble knight's name down at tavern. Did not want to console an equally guilt-ridden Gwen. Did not want to sit silently in the crown prince's chamber. Merlin did not want to do anything.
There was nothing that could be done, scientifically or magically. Unless of course he was willing to pay the consequences. Where would the happy ending come from afterwards? Another loved one would have to pay the price, and Heaven forbid it be the prophesized Emery's! Another friend, brother, and lover would be left alone. Another chance at forming something more powerful than any type of magic would be destroyed, or worse-never begin at all. No, the warlock had been through enough heart-ache for a life-time.
Sir Lancelot Du Lac of Camelot. The most noble knight of the Round Table. Brought down by his sense of duty and justice; what was right. A fitting way for such an honorable and foolish man! A hard gleam reflected in Merlin's eye's. No tears had yet been shed, because Merlin understood from past experience that crying never returned the dead. Love was a horribly cruel thing. The more love given to the "gifted" young man, the more fate seemed to take.
Will, Merlin's brother in all but blood, sacrificed his precious life for his friend's unfinished destiny. The first person to except him for what he is and what he will become. He would've been one of Camelot's finest knights.
Freya, his first love, who died due to circumstances beyond her control. The first person to understand Merlin and value his company. They were going to live by a lake; own a couple of cows.
Balinor, the father Merlin never knew, killed while protecting his son. The first person Uther betrayed, and the first to know what it's like to have immense power, but live as a shadow. Hunith wouldn't have been so alone.
People seemed to enjoy dying in Merlin's arm's. Thankfully, Lancelot did not grant him the same kindness.
The knight, Merlin's first friend, who gave his life willingly to protect the warlock, Arthur, and Camelot. To keep his promise to a woman he loved. A woman who loved him less than Merlin. Lancelot was the first person to accept his magic and believe in his self-worth. He was also first to fall for Gwen. The woman that seemed to have every male in the kingdom wrapped around her slim finger. What else could Merlin do but smile, and step behind the scenes, where all servants belonged. So why was Gwen such an exception? To court a peasant was one thing, but a male? Simply out of the question. Merlin was not so selfish as to force his perverse and unwanted feelings onto a man that trusted him more then Arthur ever could.
Lancelot could read Merlin like a book (a feat that took the prince nearly two years) just after days of knowing one another. The dark-eyed man also encouraged, even seemed to enjoy his magic. But still, it wasn't enough. Every blessed day spent being around the noble man, was torture so severe it nearly caused physical pain to watch him. To watch as his knight spent those glorious days following the brown-haired maid servant's every movement. Pure agony and a bitter taste of unacknowledged hatred festered inside of Merlin when he witnessed Gwen's lingering glances. She had her chance so many times, it was almost ridiculous that the dark-skinned beauty still seemed to long for a man whom she could have at any moment. And it wasn't just Merlin who noticed these looks. Arthur was very aware of the lasting attachment, but held onto a desperate hope that the feelings would fade with time. They did. Once Lancelot walked into the ripped veil.
It was getting cold and the sun had set long ago. No one had visited Merlin's chambers. The stiff young man saw no need to light a fire, and the frigid wind blowing through the open window kept him fully awake. Merlin did not want to sleep. Did not want to live. What was there to live for?
Who would die next time? Who would be there to help a magic less Merlin? His mother could not help him. Gaius did not understand him. Morgana despised him. Gwen unknowingly toyed with treasured people in Merlin's life. His destiny foretold of a terrible end. Magic was still banned. The man Merlin loved was dead.
After hours of sitting down, Merlin finally moved. He lifted his stiff head, and stared at the open-faced moon. Stars blinked dimly behind gray clouds, and if he was paying attention, Merlin would've heard Killgarah's sympathetic voice calling. But everything was hazy and numb. Unwanted tears fell from dark blue eyes while the harsh wind blew endlessly at a rapidly breaking face, and the same thoughts flew through Merlin's head.
What happened? I never saw him. Why did he do that? How could he do this? How could he do this to me? I never told him.
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I'm not too proud of this chapter, so please tell me what you think, and don't forget the poll!