A/N: Set in some amorphous post season 4 where Merlin's magic is eventually revealed and he's made Court Sorcerer and season 5 doesn't exist. Also assumes Lancelot died in the Veil but Merlin saved him after he was brought back as a shade. (Can read "Heart and Soul" for that story but not necessary for this whumpy one shot.) Thanks to 29pieces for beta reading!
"One Wrong Move"
Merlin ran through the castle halls, the sounds of explosions reverberating outside. He finally reached the main doors and barreled out into the courtyard in time to see a trio of sorcerers shooting streams of fire at any knights that tried to get in their way. One of them was holding a gold plaque, a magical artifact Merlin recognized as being from the royal vault. Clearly these guys knew what they wanted, and now that they'd gotten it, they didn't care how much ruckus they made on their way out.
Arthur was crouched at the bottom of the steps, having taken cover from one of those fiery geysers. He looked up as Merlin scrambled down the stairs and scowled.
"Merlin, nice of you to show up! How about doing your job before they burn down the castle?"
Merlin huffed. Six months as Court Sorcerer hadn't made Arthur any less bossy than when Merlin was just his manservant.
He strode out into the open, prepared to face these intruders. The knights in the area exchanged dubious looks, even as Lancelot urgently waved them all to back up. Most of them hadn't seen much of Merlin the Court Sorcerer outside of parlor tricks and entertainment at feasts. They didn't know what Emrys, the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth, was capable of.
As though sensing his presence, the three sorcerers slowed their stride and turned toward him. Merlin shot a hand out and uttered a spell that sent the two on the edges flying backward through the air. The one in the middle, however, jerked the artifact up, which rippled against the force of Merlin's magic like a shield. The sorcerer then fired back a ball of fire, which Merlin deftly deflected. It went careening into a castle turret with explosive sparks. Merlin mustered up his magic again and shot it toward the sorcerer, who flung the artifact up yet again to block it. Merlin kept up the stream, though, coruscating bands of light and energy crashing against the plaque as the other sorcerer began to shake under its intensity. Merlin summoned forth more of his power and unleashed it in a terrible wave toward his opponent.
And in that same instant, he saw Lancelot leap into the open with a swing of his sword. Merlin caught a glint of steel as the knight deflected a knife mid-air before it could finish its journey toward Merlin. One of the other sorcerers was up on one knee across the courtyard, arm still extended from his throw. It all happened within a flash, and Merlin watched in horror as his magic exploded with a concussive force that shattered the artifact and the sorcerer holding it. The shockwave burst outward, slamming into Lancelot and lifting him off his feet and through the air until he hit the citadel wall, his head cracking sharply against the stone.
All the breath whooshed out of Merlin's lungs as he watched Lancelot crumple to the ground in a boneless heap.
The ensuing silence was like a roar in Merlin's ears. He barely noticed the other two sorcerers scrambling to their feet and making a run for it. Some of the knights gave chase, while Percival and Leon rushed to Lancelot. Merlin couldn't move.
Arthur came up beside him, expression equally slack in shock. He flicked a look at Merlin briefly before turning to yell out orders. If any of them were for Merlin, he didn't hear. He remained in a daze as the knights brought a litter and carefully placed Lancelot upon it. He followed numbly as they carried him to Gaius's chambers.
"What happened?" Gaius asked urgently as they laid Lancelot on the physician's cot.
There was a round of uncomfortable looks among the knights at that, nervous glances Merlin's way.
"It's my fault," he choked out.
"It was an accident," Arthur put in. "Lancelot got caught in Merlin's magic and was thrown against the wall. He hit pretty hard."
Hard was an understatement. Merlin had killed people with less force—oh gods, was Lancelot even still alive? Merlin hadn't checked…
Gaius bent over his patient to examine him, and Merlin held his breath for those earth-shattering words. But Gaius didn't say anything as he checked Lancelot's breathing, then his head. His fingers came away from the back of his hair glistening with a small amount of blood, but not that much, not as much as there should have been.
Gaius wordlessly reached for a square cloth and slipped it beneath Lancelot's head, then continued his examination.
"Well?" Arthur asked tautly.
"A moment, Sire." Gaius stood up and went to grab a small vial of smelling salts, which he then held under Lancelot's nose. There was no response.
"That's bad, isn't it?" Elyan spoke up worriedly.
Gaius sighed heavily, and Merlin's stomach cramped painfully.
"There's severe swelling," Gaius finally said. "And a definite fracture in the back of his skull. I fear there is bleeding into the brain."
Merlin's knees threatened to buckle. No.
"There's nothing I can do for such an injury," Gaius finished, turning to Merlin.
Everyone's eyes shifted to their resident warlock expectantly, and Merlin tried to snap himself out of his horrified daze. With staggered steps, he moved toward his friend, lying so still and pale on the cot. Because Merlin had put him there.
He eased himself down on the stool Gaius had vacated and held out a shaky hand toward Lancelot, uttering the words for a healing spell.
But nothing happened.
Merlin squinted and tried to concentrate harder.
"Merlin," Percival prompted impatiently.
"I was never the best at healing spells, alright?" he snapped.
He sucked in a sharp breath and tried again, and again, but it wasn't that the healing spell wasn't working; it was that his magic wasn't doing anything at all.
Merlin finally leaned back in dismay. "I don't understand…my magic isn't responding."
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.
He didn't answer but twisted around and stretched his hand toward the fireplace, intending to make it flare and spark. But nothing happened.
Merlin looked up at everyone in dawning horror. "My magic is gone."
"How is that possible?" Gwaine asked. "Did those sorcerers do something to you?"
Merlin shook his head. "I don't know…" He didn't think they'd had time to cast a spell like that, and really a spell to block someone's magic was more involved than a simple one-off that could be thrown out in the heat of battle. Was it the artifact? Had Merlin walked into a trap? But he'd destroyed the thing, so that should have broken any influence it might have had.
His breaths started coming sharper and harsher. If he didn't fix his magic soon, Lancelot was going to die. He staggered to his feet in growing panic just as Gwen burst into the room. She gasped at the sight of Lancelot.
"What is his condition?" she asked Gaius.
Merlin couldn't take it, and he pushed past everyone and fled the room. This couldn't be happening. All the years he'd used his magic in secret, he'd never hurt his own people before. And now that he didn't have to hide, he, what, had been careless? Why hadn't he been watching more carefully? Just because the ban had been lifted and he was now accepted in Camelot didn't mean he could just wield his magic willy nilly, without thought for the consequences.
And for Lancelot to be the one who had to suffer for it…the one person who had always accepted Merlin from the beginning. It wasn't right.
Merlin burst out of a stairwell onto one of the towers, not even realizing he'd gone up there. He sucked in a harsh gasp of crisp air as his lungs constricted. Collapsing against the turret wall, he tried to get himself under control. He needed to summon Kilgharrah, that's what he needed to do, needed to find out what had happened to his magic and how to fix it…
He straightened and turned to make his way back down when Arthur stepped out of the tower, expression solemn. Merlin automatically turned away from it.
"I have to go," he muttered. "I have to find out what's wrong with my magic."
Arthur, however, was blocking the exit. "Gaius has a theory about that," he said, tone careful, like Merlin was a wounded animal that needed handling. "You're upset about Lancelot."
"Of course I'm upset!" Merlin snapped. "Lancelot is dying!"
Arthur remained unmoved. "And you blame yourself."
"Don't you?"
"It was an accident, Merlin. We all know that. Gaius thinks you blaming yourself might be somehow…blocking your magic."
Merlin shook his head. That wasn't it at all.
"You have to try again," Arthur went on. "You're Lancelot's only hope at this point."
Yes, which was why Merlin needed to find Kilgharrah. The Great Dragon would know what to do. But was there time? There was no way to know how much longer Lancelot had, how serious the bleed was…
Arthur reached out and clasped his shoulder in a gesture of comfort that Merlin didn't feel he deserved. "Merlin, please."
Arthur never asked. He commanded. He only asked because maybe he didn't believe Merlin could truly save their friend. And what was Merlin supposed to do in the face of that? Try and fail again or give up?
He really didn't know what to do, but he was pliant as Arthur gave him a nudge and led him back down to Gaius's chambers where everyone was still gathered around their fallen friend. Merlin took a breath and stepped forward to once again try to cast a healing spell.
And once again his magic just…wasn't there. Like it had abandoned him for using it so recklessly and betraying himself and his loved ones.
He kept his head down, unable to bear the looks of disappointment and recrimination he could feel in the air around him. As much as they might all claim this was a tragic accident, the fact was that Merlin's magic had done it.
And Merlin's magic had failed to fix it.
Gaius cleared his throat and spoke softly, "My boy, you need to stop blaming yourself."
"It was my fault, Gaius."
"I was there," Gwaine spoke up. "I saw what happened. It was just bad timing, Merlin."
Gwen reached out to clasp his hand and give it a fervent squeeze. "Lancelot wouldn't blame you either."
Of course he wouldn't, Merlin thought bitterly. Lancelot didn't hold grudges against anyone. That was more a credit to him than it was to Merlin.
"Why don't we all give Merlin some space," Gaius finally said.
There was a moment of reluctant hesitation; of course they didn't want to leave Lancelot, knowing that he could slip away while they were gone. But they nevertheless left, even Gaius, leaving Merlin alone with his dearest friend.
Merlin stared at Lancelot's waxen pallor, how utterly still he was. Had Lancelot realized what had happened in that final moment? Was his last memory of Merlin's magic doing this to him?
"I'm so sorry," Merlin whispered brokenly. He reached out a hand to lay over Lancelot's heart. "Please."
But there was no magic, no healing. Only a cold emptiness where his magic used to be and the far too languid heartbeat of a fading life.
Merlin bowed his head as the dam broke, and he sobbed into the folds of the blanket until exhaustion and anguish dragged him into numbing darkness.
.o.0.o.
Merlin woke to the tranquil sound of water lapping against a shore. He bolted upright and gazed out at the Lake of Avalon in confusion. Lancelot was there, standing at the water's edge. Merlin scrambled to his feet.
"Lancelot?"
His friend turned and smiled at him.
Merlin hesitated, looking around tensely. Something wasn't right… There was a soft, almost ethereal quality to the air. His heart sank. "This isn't real."
Lancelot shrugged. "It's real enough." He turned his gaze back out across the water. "And it's peaceful."
Merlin frowned as he considered his friend, or this apparition of him. "Are you trying to tell me something? Should we bring you to the Lake for healing?"
Lancelot tossed a wry smile over his shoulder. "That only worked the one time, and that was for a magical wound."
A spiky lump formed in Merlin's throat. "Magic hurt you this time too. My magic. And now it's abandoned me and I can't save you."
"This isn't the first time I've died," Lancelot pointed out too casually.
"But this time it's at my hand," Merlin replied, voice cracking.
Lancelot turned and walked toward him, expression serious. "It wasn't, Merlin. I knew what you were capable of, knew to stay behind cover while you faced that sorcerer. But when I saw that other one draw his knife to throw it, I couldn't just stand by and not do something."
Merlin shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "I wish you hadn't."
"So it could be you who lay dying right now?" Lancelot gave him a fond look. "You are my friend, Merlin, and I will never regret laying down my life for you or any of the others. I didn't in the Veil and I don't now. And I would do it again."
Merlin kept shaking his head. "No, you won't, because you're never going to wake up."
And this was just some cruel dream reminding Merlin that he would never get to speak with his best friend again.
Lancelot just smiled kindly. "Show me some magic."
Merlin scowled. "I don't care about my magic right now!"
"You are magic, Merlin," Lancelot pointed out. "It's not a separate part of you; it is you. And I have always found it comforting."
Merlin's shoulders slumped in defeat. How could he deny his friend this one last request? Even if it was just an illusion.
So he mustered up what little wherewithal he could and reached inward, summoning up that part of his magic that he used to use to soothe Lancelot when he was hurting.
Glowing orbs of light formed in the air, bathing everything in a soft amber hue. It wasn't real magic, after all, just a figment of Merlin's dreams. But Lancelot smiled.
"You've gotten used to using your magic as a prop now that it's out in the open," he said. "Casting spells on command. You need to remember how to be magic, my friend."
Merlin huffed. Why was he listening to an apparition anyway? But he exhaled slowly and opened himself up, letting the magic flow through him naturally, as it had always done. The lights grew brighter, enveloping them both in the radiance of a sun.
Merlin woke with a start, slumped over Lancelot's cot. His hand felt unusually warm, and when he lifted his head, he saw it was glowing. With magic.
His breath caught in his throat as he quickly channeled everything he had into a healing spell. The light exuding from his palm seeped into Lancelot, restoring his color. Then he opened his eyes and gazed blearily at Merlin.
Merlin choked on a half sob of relief as the magic settled and the light dimmed. "Lancelot?"
"What's wrong?" his friend asked groggily.
Merlin shook his head and hastily brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. "Nothing. Everything's okay now." He craned his neck to look around the room. "Gaius!"
Gaius emerged from Merlin's room, his brows rising sharply at the sight of Lancelot awake.
"I did it, right?" Merlin asked desperately. He couldn't always tell; what if the healing spell hadn't fixed everything?
Gaius hurried over as Lancelot started to sit up.
"Easy," Gaius cautioned, gripping Lancelot's arm to hold him steady. He moved his other hand to carefully feel around the back of the knight's head.
Lancelot flicked a confused look up at him before allowing the examination. "What happened?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" Gaius asked neutrally, moving around to check his eyes.
"Um…a night at the tavern with the other knights." Lancelot's brows scrunched together. "Did something happen?"
Merlin frowned as he tried to piece his own timeline together. "That was three nights ago." He shot Gaius an alarmed look.
Gaius merely waved a hand at him to settle while he turned to address Lancelot. "Any dizziness, nausea, blurry vision?"
"No." Now he was beginning to look alarmed. "What happened? Have I been here for three days? I don't remember."
"No, no," Gaius replied, patting his arm reassuringly. "You received a serious head injury in a battle earlier today. Some memory loss is not unexpected, even with Merlin's magical healing." He flicked a smile at Merlin at that. "But you seem to be in good health again. I'll let Arthur and the others know."
With that, he headed out, closing the door behind him.
Lancelot turned his gaze to Merlin, eyeing him carefully. Merlin ducked his gaze.
"I take it my injury was more than just serious."
Merlin's chest was getting tight again, and he nodded. "I'm sorry, Lancelot," he said, managing to lift his head and meet his friend's eyes.
Lancelot quirked a brow at him. "For what?"
"It was my magic that injured you. I didn't mean to. I was fighting a sorcerer, and you got caught in the blast wave…"
Lancelot reached out and squeezed his wrist. "Battles are chaotic, Merlin. I'm sure it wasn't your fault."
Merlin didn't know whether to laugh or cry because of course Lancelot would say that.
"It was still my magic."
"And your magic saved my life," he said simply.
This time Merlin did huff out a laugh. "Yeah, it did." He paused and canted a curious look at his friend. "By the way, I don't suppose you remember dreaming while you were in a coma?"
"No, why?"
"No reason."
Lancelot wasn't the only one who'd been saved that day.