Lancelot hadn't expected Uther to react well to his presence when he'd reluctantly followed Arthur into the Council Chamber. Despite the limited time he'd spent around the king, he wasn't difficult to understand... hard, stubborn, unyielding to a fault. There was no point in hoping a man like that would offer second chances.
Poor Arthur... so obviously desperate to find some sense of honor in his father that was similar to his own. Clearly expecting Uther to be grateful to the man who'd destroyed the Griffin, commoner or not, his face had transformed from joy to bewilderment, and then to disappointed anger as the king had coldly ordered him from the room instead.
No, Lancelot hadn't been surprised when Uther had fixed him with that contemptuous stare, steel blue eyes no warmer than they'd been that morning. Where the king was concerned, it didn't matter whether he'd slain a hundred Griffins. All he'd ever see was a peasant who'd broken the law.
To Uther, Lancelot was worthless.
The realization didn't even hurt anymore. After all, why should he care anything for the opinion of a man he couldn't even bring himself to respect?
No... what hurt was hearing Arthur's angry shouts through the door, arguing vehemently on his behalf.
If he somehow convinced his father to restore Lancelot's knighthood, it would be an honor he could not refuse. To do so would be an insult to a man who had shown him nothing but kindness. No, he would have to accept, then somehow live with the shame of taking credit for Merlin's actions.
And if he did accept, what then?
Uther would always resent him. He'd never be a true knight in the king's eyes, who'd no doubt look for fault in him at every turn. And when Arthur came to his defense, it would be a source of bitter conflict between them. How could he allow himself to be responsible for that?
And yet, if Uther refused, Arthur would be angry and resentful at what he saw as a grave injustice. If Lancelot remained in Camelot in the face of that, he would be a constant reminder to Arthur of how badly the king had disappointed his hopes.
No... both outcomes would strain relations between father and son, causing a great deal of misunderstanding and pain. Lancelot didn't want that, especially after everything Arthur had done for him.
But what other choice do I have? he thought helplessly. The decision is out of my hands.
"What are they doing?" Merlin asked as he joined him.
"Deciding my fate," he responded with a shrug.
The argument inside the chamber grew louder and more heated. He was overwhelmed by a rush of guilt, even though he felt humbled and incredibly grateful that Arthur was willing to go so far on his behalf.
"They'll restore your knighthood. Of course they will. You killed the Griffin."
"But I didn't kill the Griffin." Lancelot quietly responded, mindful of any eavesdroppers. "You did."
Merlin sputtered in protest. "That's ridiculous!"
"Bregdan anweald?" He gave his friend a small smile. "I heard you. I saw you."
Merlin glanced anxiously at the guards standing a few yards away, then turned back to Lancelot with eyes that were wide and full of fear.
Gentle, unassuming Merlin, who'd do anything to help a person in need. All the while, he carried an enormous secret that would likely get him killed if it were ever discovered, even by those he should've been able to trust the most. Lancelot's heart went out to him, scarcely able to imagine what it must be like to have to hide such a huge part of who he was.
Merlin had risked his life in order to use his magic for good, knowing very well he could never take credit or receive any recognition. Worse, he'd done so with the ever present knowledge that he could easily be executed as a criminal for his selfless act.
Lancelot felt humbled in the face of that realization.
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But I cannot take the credit for what I did not do. There'll be no more lies, no more deceit."
Merlin frowned. "What are you going to do?"
"The only thing I can do," he said, as the solution came to him from out of nowhere.
Without another word, he made his way across the hall with several quick strides. A hard shove and the doors of the Council Chamber opened with a crash, just as two guards grabbed him roughly by the arms and attempted to drag him away.
"What is this?" Uther demanded.
"Let me speak!" he spat in frustration, struggling under their bruising grip.
"Wait!" Uther called. "I'll hear him."
The guards released him as he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain of what he had to do.
"Forgive me, sire," he said softly. "I've come to bid you farewell."
Arthur stared at him in bewilderment. "What is this, Lancelot?"
"I lied to you both and now there is conflict between you," he explained, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. "I cannot bear that burden, as you should not bear mine. I must start again, far from here. Then maybe one day fate shall grant me another chance to prove myself a worthy Knight of Camelot."
"But Lancelot," Arthur protested. "You've already proved that to us."
No, I haven't, he thought wistfully. But I will. Someday, I will.
"But I must prove it to myself," he said aloud.
Even in that bittersweet moment, it was comforting to finally be able to speak the truth. More importantly, he'd found a way to do it without revealing anything that would've endangered Merlin. The thought of leaving Camelot was almost too painful to imagine, but at least he could do so now with his head held high and his honor intact.
"You don't have to go," Merlin protested after they'd made their way back to Gaius's chamber.
Lancelot packed his battered leather satchel with a grim expression on his face, determined not to allow even the most convincing arguments to sway him from his course. Leaving was going to be hard enough on its own… better to ignore any further temptation to stay.
"Even if you can't be a knight, you could still live in Camelot. You could just stay on here with me and Gaius. I could help you find work and maybe after some time has passed, Arthur can convince his father..."
"No, Merlin," he said quietly. "I cannot. I told you, I will not take credit for your actions. It isn't right."
"I don't care about that! You belong here! You know you do! If it's just this one little thing stopping you... who cares? You'll get your knighthood back sooner or later and after that, you'll earn everything for yourself."
Lancelot gave him a searching look. "This isn't the first time you've used magic to help Arthur, is it?"
Merlin hesitated, then shook his head.
"I imagine you're used to not receiving the credit you deserve for your actions. Well, I will not make matters worse by claiming it for myself. You saved my life and were willing to allow everyone to believe that I was the hero in your stead, though I'd done nothing to deserve such an honor. While I appreciate it, I can't…"
He was startled when the other man laughed.
"Nothing? Lancelot, you charged down a Griffin... a monster who'd slaughtered hundreds of innocent people. You faced it on your own without knowing I had magic to help you, willing to die in the attempt to destroy it. Doesn't that make you a hero?"
He blinked in surprise, not having thought about it from that perspective. The words gave him comfort, allowing him the satisfaction of acknowledging his own bravery. Yes, at least in that sense, he'd proven he was far from being a coward. But somehow, that only made him more certain he was making the right choice.
"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?"
"I'm sorry, Merlin. This is the only path I can take."
"Where will you go?"
"I don't know," he responded, then sighed heavily. "I haven't had a chance to think about that yet."
"What about Gwen?"
Gwen... Lancelot closed his eyes and fought back a rush of pain. If leaving everything else were a punch to the gut, leaving her was like a blade to the heart. He'd been trying to put her from his mind as much as possible, afraid that if he thought about her too much, he wouldn't have the strength to do what he needed to do.
The truth was, he had to leave if he was to have any hope of ever being worthy of her.
She won't see it that way, he realized with a great deal of sadness. However I try to explain, she will not understand.
He couldn't leave without telling her goodbye, and yet how could he stand face to face with his heart's deepest desire, then turn and walk away from that very thing?
"Do you have quill and parchment? I'll write her a letter. It will be much easier for me to explain."
Nodding somewhat reluctantly, Merlin got up and retrieved the items from the outer chamber. "When will you leave?" he asked as he returned. "Are you going to tell her goodbye?"
"She's probably asleep by now; I wouldn't want to disturb her. No, I'll write this and then be on my way. The longer I wait, the more difficult it will be."
"You can't!" Merlin protested. "It's after midnight and you're practically shaking with exhaustion. I understand that you feel you have to go, but please, get a few hours of rest first."
"I'm not that tired," Lancelot lied.
In truth, it had been one of the longest days he'd ever known. Given the chance, he'd love nothing more than to sleep through the night and well into the following afternoon. But he was terrified that the longer he waited, the more his resolve would weaken.
What if I wake tomorrow and cannot do it? No, I need to leave tonight...
"Lancelot," Merlin said quietly. "As a friend, please just promise me you won't ride until first light. Just a few hours rest. That's all I ask."
He opened his mouth to refuse, then stopped himself with a feeling of shame. It was a perfectly reasonable request, particularly after everything Merlin had done for him; it would be cruel to make him worry when it wasn't necessary.
With a resigned sigh, he agreed.
Merlin, clearly exhausted himself, stretched out on the pallet and was asleep within minutes. Lancelot smiled, realizing he couldn't even remember whether or not it was his turn for the floor.
Lighting a candle, he settled himself on the bed and began to write.
Dearest Guinevere,
I am sorry I could not tell you goodbye in person. Please know that...
Two hours later, after several failed attempts and a few long pauses to gather his thoughts, the letter was finally completed to his satisfaction. Retrieving a small item from his satchel, the only thing of value he'd ever owned, he tucked it inside the carefully folded parchment, fixing it with the wax seal Merlin had provided.
For Guinevere, he signed above the seal, then laid it on the table next to the bed.
He was resigned to tossing and turning for the rest of the night, but it seemed his exhausted body had nothing left to give. Stretching out on his back, he almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
All too soon, he was awake again, as bright morning sunlight poured through the window. Somehow even more weary than he'd been when he'd fallen asleep, he forced himself to rise and dress.
Following a somber breakfast with Merlin and Gaius, he accepted their embraces, carefully avoiding Merlin's attempts to distract him with aimless chatter. There was no time to delay.
He was on his way out when he hesitated, noticing the freshly polished armor that was piled by the door.
"Put it on," Merlin said softly.
It's yours, a voice inside him agreed. Gwen gave it to you as a gift. To leave it behind would be an insult. Put it on and ride out of Camelot with more than you came here with.
Yes, so much more... but he knew it had little to do with mail and plate, as Merlin quietly helped him don the armor. He'd learned the true meaning of friendship, honor, courage, loyalty, kindness... love.
To leave that all behind? For an instant, he wavered. It was a cruel thing, knowing all the things that begged him to stay were the biggest reasons he had to go.
Just a little more, his heart pleaded, bringing a lump to his throat and weakening his resolve.
One more day... one more visit to the lower town with Merlin, chattering happily as they passed through the busy streets. One more supper shared with Gaius, smiling and laughing as they discussed the events of the day.
One more glimpse of Gwen's lovely face, one last chance to look deep into those beautiful dark eyes and lose himself. To feel her close to him just one more time, warm, sweet and soft in his arms...
No, he told himself brutally. If you can't do it now, you never will.
"Farewell," he said quietly, embracing Merlin one last time. "I'll send word when I can."
He would never recall passing through the palace corridors and out into the streets, nor saddling his horse and riding out of the city gates, then down the winding road that led to places unknown.
All he'd ever remember about that day would be how desperately he'd longed to stay.