"Have you seen Gwen?" Lancelot slurred as Merlin joined him at the table.
Since he'd offered to refill her goblet, Morgana had refused to let him out of her sight until that moment. First, she'd taken him around the room to introduce him to some of her favorite knights. He'd been too polite to mention that he'd already been acquainted with them earlier in the evening.
Then she'd invented a clever game. She'd point out various guests, laughingly demanding that Lancelot tell her their names. If he was correct, she had to take a drink. If not, he did. Of course, he'd gotten almost all of them wrong.
"I saw her a little while ago," Merlin replied, giving him a knowing look. "She said she was going home."
"Was she... did she...?" he trailed off, struggling to keep his thoughts straight. "Wanted to wish her good night, at least. Didn't want to..." His head seemed unbearably heavy and so he rested it on the table, peering up at Merlin through one bleary eye.
"What are you so worried about? She was tired, that's all. You'll see her tomorrow."
"Tired..." Lancelot mumbled, feeling warm and content as he closed his eyes. Yes, I'm very tired. Sleep...
Merlin laughed, slurring a little himself as he spoke. "I do believe you passed "drunk" quite some time ago, Sir Lancelot. We should get you off to bed. The celebrations have been dying down for a while anyway."
"Bed," he grunted in agreement, though he made no effort to move. What was the point, when he was perfectly comfortable right where he was sitting?
"Lancelot!" Morgana called brightly.
Good lord, did she have to be so loud? With a reluctant groan, he raised his head, wanting nothing more than to tell her he was finished for the night. No more ale, no more games, no more people...
But no, it wasn't in him to forget his courtesies, even in this shameful state. "My lady."
She smiled almost provocatively. "For your first act of service, I was hoping you'd do me the honor of escorting me to my chamber, Sir Lancelot. There's no telling who might be lurking around the castle at this hour. I'd feel much safer with one of Camelot's finest to protect me."
Merlin laughed uproariously. "Look at him… he's so drunk he can barely walk! Why don't you get one of the guards to go with you?"
Morgana gave him a cutting look. "I want Lancelot to do it."
"Well, maybe I should come along and…"
"Merlin," Morgana said firmly. She tried to soften her words with a smile, but there was steel in her voice. "Go get some sleep. Lancelot will be fine, I can promise you that. He'll be along soon enough."
"But…"
Lancelot cut Merlin off this time as he rose unsteadily to his feet. "My duty," he mumbled. "Sworn knight... sworn to serve."
Despite her request, it was Morgana who escorted Lancelot through the torch lit halls, not the other way around. He leaned against her for support, unable to hide his embarrassment as he stumbled over his feet several times. Morgana seemed to enjoy the spectacle, however, giggling to herself and then teasing him mercilessly when he tripped over a stair, ending up sprawled helplessly on his back.
"Come on, Sir Lancelot," she said, laughing so hard she could barely get the words out. She helped him to his feet, encouraging him to throw one heavy arm over her shoulders.
It seemed to take forever, but at long last, they were at the door of her chamber. As she opened it and stepped inside, she turned to him with a smile.
"Thank you, Lancelot."
"Goodnight, my lady," he said slowly, executing what was meant to be a respectful bow. Instead, he very nearly lost his footing again, swaying precariously before he managed to right himself. He turned to leave, wondering how on earth he was supposed to find his way back to Merlin.
"Lancelot, wait. My dress... there's no one here to help me unfasten it and I'm afraid I can't do it myself. Would you mind assisting me?"
Even through the haze of alcohol, he knew it was a terrible idea to enter her chambers in the middle of the night. Yet how could he refuse without causing offense? Were he sober, he might have been able to think of something, perhaps. But in this state, he couldn't even begin to imagine a proper refusal.
Reluctantly, he followed her inside.
Morgana smiled to herself as she stood in front of her dressing table, pulling pins from her hair and dropping them one by one with tiny clinking sounds.
Was he watching? He must be. Men always watched when she did this, torturing them with the slowness of the task before she rewarded them by letting the ebony curls tumble down her bare back.
Peeking at him in the mirror, she expected to find him devouring her with that hungry stare she knew so well. She'd give him a coy little smile, gazing at him seductively over one shoulder, and then he would come to her then. After that...
Lancelot's eyes didn't meet hers, however. He was staring out the window.
She frowned in confusion.
In truth, that was what had intrigued her enough to bring him to her chambers in the first place. Throughout the evening, she'd noticed he didn't look at her as other men did. His eyes never followed her around the room, hot desire obvious in his stare no matter how respectful he might be in every other way.
No, he'd barely looked at her at all… and even when he had, his gaze had been mild, sometimes even friendly. But there had been nothing resembling attraction, no sign of lust in those deep brown eyes.
Briefly, Morgana had wondered if he was the type who preferred the charms of other men. There were a few among the knights, she knew, one of Camelot's most poorly guarded secrets. But that didn't seem to be it either. For men and women alike, his gaze had been kind and respectful, nothing more.
He had seemed to be staring at Merlin quite a bit as Arthur's servant had walked around the room with Gwen, but always with a great deal of affection, never with any sort of lustful intent in his eyes that she could see.
Maybe he was just more particular than most. Yes, perhaps seducing Sir Lancelot required more effort than a few batted eyelashes and flirtatious comments. A challenge? She liked the idea of that.
"Lancelot?" she whispered seductively. "My dress..."
Turning at the sound of her voice, he nodded, weaving his way unsteadily across the room. She presented him with her back, giving a noticeable shiver when his sword callused fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck.
If he'd been any other man, he would've pressed himself closer at the unspoken invitation. Replacing his fingers with his lips, he would've nibbled at the curve of her neck as his hands slid down to caress her shoulders, then circled around to cup her breasts.
Instead, he just fumbled with the fastening, muttering to himself in frustration.
Maybe I need to try a little harder, she thought to herself, strangely aroused by his continued resistance. She peeked up at him over one shoulder and spoke in a low, teasing voice that was filled with promise.
"Having trouble? You could just rip it off of me, you know. I wouldn't mind."
There, let him try and resist that!
Turning to look at his face, she was taken aback when she realized he was horrified at the suggestion. Dropping his hands, he took a quick step backward, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.
"My lady, I don't... this isn't... I should go."
It was then that she realized she'd been attempting to seduce a man who clearly didn't want to be seduced for whatever reason, which left her feeling deeply ashamed. A challenge was one thing, but Lancelot wasn't resisting in an effort to make her work for his attentions. He was drunk, obviously exhausted, and extremely uncomfortable.
"I didn't mean... I'm sorry, I was only saying that you could rip the fastening. There's no sense in you wrestling with it all night. You must be tired. Go ahead, please. Gwen can always repair it tomorrow."
Taking a cautious step closer, he reached out and ripped the fabric as gently as he could manage, immediately backing away when the task was done. A few minutes earlier, she might have let the gown fall to the floor, turning to him with a wicked smile. Instead, she clutched it modestly to her chest.
"Gwen," he repeated the name, his voice surprisingly tender. "I hope it won't be too much trouble for her to repair this, my lady."
Is he...? Without thinking, she blurted, "Lancelot, you have feelings for Gwen! That's it, isn't it?"
"Yes, my lady," he said softly, weariness and far too much ale perhaps making him more truthful than he might otherwise have been. "I do."
"That's... that's wonderful!" She gave him a huge smile.
Gwen was a sweet girl and a dear friend. so much more than merely a servant. Perhaps more than anyone, she deserved someone to love, a man who'd treat her right. If that man were Lancelot, difference in rank or not, Morgana would be entirely supportive. More than that, she'd be thrilled. Ordinarily, she might worry that someone of a higher class would have less than honorable intentions with a serving girl, but she'd already seen enough to believe that Lancelot truly cared for Gwen.
He was able to resist Morgana herself, after all, something no other man had ever managed to do. He must have quite a loyal heart.
She nearly laughed aloud, remembering how she'd teased Gwen when she'd found her in the corner with Lancelot. At the time, she'd have never imagined there was any truth to her mock suspicions.
That little sneak, she thought to herself affectionately. How long had this been going on? Meanwhile, her demure little maidservant had said nothing, just gone about her duties as usual. Oh yes, Morgana had every intention of putting her on the spot the next time she saw her.
Pulling Morgana's door closed with a soft click, Lancelot stumbled out into the hall with a sigh of relief. Everything had turned out well enough once she'd realized his affections belonged to another.
Before that though, it had been one of the most awkward situations imaginable. He was only a man, after all, not immune to the charms of a beautiful woman. The comment about ripping her dress had definitely stirred him on a physical level, and even a week ago, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to refuse such an appealing offer.
But that would've been before he'd met Gwen. Everything was different now; he had no wish to be with any other woman except her, no matter what his body had to say about it. Strangely enough, being faced with a temptation he couldn't avoid had made him even more certain of his feelings on the matter.
"Lancelot!" a voice hissed from a nearby stairwell.
"Merlin, why are you lurking out here in the dark? I thought you'd be asleep by now."
"I wanted to be sure you could find your way back. Couldn't have you passing out in the halls, after all. That would be undignified for a man of your station."
Throwing an arm around Merlin's shoulders, Lancelot allowed himself to be guided to their destination. He'd sobered up a bit during his time in Morgana's chambers. Now it was mainly weariness that had him swaying on his feet.
"Your turn for the bed tonight, Sir Lancelot," Merlin said, settling himself on the pallet on the floor with a cheeky grin.
Lancelot laughed as he undressed, choosing to discard all of his clothing except his trousers. He'd had the bed the previous night, as Merlin knew very well. It had become something of a private joke between them.
"No, Merlin, it's your turn. You might as well take the bed, because I'm not sleeping there tonight."
"Well, I'm too lazy to get up now, so I'm afraid you have no other choice."
"Oh yeah?" Lancelot shot back. "We'll see about that."
Grabbing the pillow and blanket from the bed, he settled himself on the floor beside Merlin, which brought another round of laughter from both.
"Fair enough. I know when I've been beaten. Just don't try to cuddle up to me during the night, okay? I'm not Gwen, you know."
For a moment, he considered pretending he had no idea what Merlin was talking about. But in truth, he didn't want to deny it any longer. He cared for Gwen a great deal, and anyone who was close to either of them was bound to notice, just as Morgana had done. Might as well get used to it.
He gave an exaggerated sniff. "No, you're most certainly not. Gwen doesn't stink of ale and boot polish, for one thing."
"You don't exactly smell like spring flowers yourself, Sir Lancelot," Merlin retorted with a grin. "Surprised Gwen let you near enough to be sniffing at her at all, stinking like an old sot the way you do."
"What? I don't... I wasn't sniffing at her."
Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. "Then how do you know what she smells like?"
"I just... shut up and go to sleep, Merlin."
"Fine, I will. Only because I'll need to be up bright and early to ask you all about it tomorrow."
Lancelot responded by smacking him with a pillow.
Soon enough, the room fell silent. Staring up at the ceiling as the pale light of dawn began to creep through the window, he played over the events of the night one last time in his mind, still hardly able to believe his good fortune.
"Sir Lancelot," he whispered to himself, closing his eyes with a soft sigh of satisfaction. "Knight of Camelot."