A/N: Set after season 4. AU Lancelot lives. Also, I wrote this with the intent to give Lancelot a girl and a happily ever after because he totally deserves that, but the actual romance is only a small part of the story. What can I say? Slow burn is apparently my style. And it's no fun without some peril and whump to go with it… XD
Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!
Chapter 1
Lancelot stood on the starboard side of the ship, the sea spray spritzing his face as the vessel undulated with the waves. It was somewhat unnerving, being in the middle of such vastness. If not for the compass and the nighttime sky, they could be easily lost to its endless blue. And how were they supposed to find a lone island out amidst it all?
But that was their quest and they could not countenance failure. For somewhere out in this great sea was an island where a magical flower was said to grow. And it was their last hope to save Guinevere.
A year into her and Arthur's reign, an evil sorceress had managed to curse Gwen, sending her into a deep, eternal sleep. Gaius and Merlin had tried everything to break the spell, but nothing had worked. Despair had fallen over the kingdom, when Gaius dug up reference to legend of this flower, the dóreaastrum, said to cure any ill, whether natural or not. It was a long shot, a desperate hope when all hope had failed, and even though the cure was magic itself, Arthur had decided to set off with his Knights of the Round Table in search of it.
Lancelot shifted his gaze to the ship's prow where Arthur stood as stolid and fixed as the figurehead several feet further out, eyes anchored to the barren horizon, no doubt praying to catch a glimpse of land. Lancelot made his way over and took up a silent position beside his king and friend. He had no words of encouragement to offer, only his presence.
After several long moments, Arthur's subdued voice spoke over the waves crashing against the hull below. "My Council believed this was a foolish errand. Or at least that I should come on it."
"It is your right," Lancelot replied. "And Gaius will look after Gwen until we return."
Arthur's mouth twisted bitterly. "I do not think it is Gwen's care my Council was concerned about." He shook his head, dropping his gaze. "Even if the legend is true and it can save Gwen…seeking out magic—how many times has magic turned on us? Magic is why my wife is trapped in the sleep of the dead!"
"Magic has helped us plenty of times too," Lancelot quietly pointed out. More than Arthur knew. "And for Guinevere, we must try everything."
Arthur nodded, lifting his head and drawing his shoulders back in renewed resolve. Lancelot knew Arthur would do anything for Gwen; he just needed to be reminded and reaffirmed that his decision to sail out into the seas in search of an island no one could say for certain existed was not, in fact, a mistake.
The sound of retching drew their attention to halfway down the deck where Merlin was bowed over the side of the ship. Lancelot grimaced at the guttural heaves as he and Arthur made their way over.
"Still haven't gotten your sea legs, Merlin?" Arthur quipped.
Merlin turned his head enough to shoot Arthur a greenish tinged glower. Arthur backed up a step.
"Do not throw up on my boots again."
Merlin's mouth looked pinched between lobbing a scathing retort back at him or vomiting over the bulwark again. Lancelot gently took his arm and guided him over to a pile of rope to sit while Arthur quickly vacated the deck. He removed a small waterskin from his belt and offered it to his sick friend.
"I've flown on the back of the Great Dragon," Merlin muttered, taking the waterskin and rinsing out his mouth. "I'd like to see Arthur handle a double barrel roll on Kilgharrah."
Lancelot smirked. It was a rather amusing image. He sat down beside his friend and rubbed Merlin's back as the warlock continued to breathe harshly through his mouth.
"We're out here because of me anyway," Merlin added in a low tone a few moments later, so quietly that Lancelot almost didn't hear him. "If my magic had been strong enough to save Gwen…"
"Merlin," Lancelot cut him off. "You may be a great and powerful sorcerer, but you're not all powerful."
"I should be," he grumbled.
Lancelot sighed sympathetically. He understood that dreadful feeling of helplessness, and he wasn't some great sorcerer with magic. It wasn't as though Merlin hadn't tried, repeatedly. Sneaking into Gwen's room in the dead of night when Gaius managed to pull Arthur away from her, with Lancelot standing watch. None of his attempts had worked. This curse was just too strong. Which made Lancelot wonder…
"Do you think this magical flower can truly save her?" he asked in a hushed voice. To imagine it wouldn't was too much to bear.
Merlin's expression was grim, but he replied, "I have to believe it will. It's all we have left. Besides, its name means 'gift from the stars.' Surely something divine will be stronger than all the curses of the mortal realm."
Lancelot gave a wan smile in return. He certainly hoped so.
He waited a few more minutes for Merlin's pallor to look a little less sickly, then helped him up and took him below to the berth deck. Lancelot helped Merlin climb into his suspended hammock in the hopes he could sleep off the rest of his seasickness. Gwaine was already snoring in his.
Lancelot and the other knights shared a meager supper of stale bread and salted meat, then retired as night fell. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep before he was jolted awake by the ship lurching violently. Low burning lanterns banged against the ceiling as they were flung abruptly to the side. Water splashed down the companionway. All of the knights scrambled out of their hammocks and sprinted up the steps to the deck where they found the ship in the midst of a raging squall.
Shouts reverberated on the air in competition with the howling gales, and though none of the knights had sailing experience, they all ran forward to help the crew tie down the lines and secure the sails. Even Arthur was out in his plain clothes, heaving on some rigging. Faint light sputtered against oxidized panes encasing the lanterns, but lashes of lightning briefly lit up everything with far more brilliance. Lancelot caught a glimpse of Merlin clinging to the stairs at the top of the companionway and had the fleeting thought that this was not going to help his seasickness. But then the ship pitched sideways again and Lancelot was almost thrown off his feet as the rope in his hands tried to yank him off the deck. He scrabbled for purchase on the slippery wood and watched Gwaine and Elyan slam against the base of the bulwark. A wave came up and over the side, crashing down on them. Lancelot's heart seized as he lost sight of them, but then Percival was there, a length of rope lashed around his waist, and he managed to grab hold of them before they were swept overboard.
"Merlin, get back below!" Arthur bellowed.
Lancelot automatically craned his neck around in search of Merlin, wondering if his magic could do something against the storm.
Lightning forked down from the clouds and struck the top sail, splintering the foremast with a resounding crack. Several people yelled and went running as the wooden post came crashing down. Lancelot let go of the rope he was holding and threw himself sideways, hitting the deck hard as a crash echoed behind him.
The ship rolled sharply, and Lancelot was abruptly reminded of Merlin's comparison with riding a dragon as he was flipped into a tumble and went careening right off the side of the ship. In the next moment, a rush of freezing black water enveloped him. A gasp of shock let a massive bubble of air escape as seawater rushed in. Lancelot flailed, but he couldn't see where to go. Then his head mercifully broke the surface and he sucked in a desperate gulp of oxygen. The waves continued to toss him back and forth, and he couldn't even see the ship anymore. A spiderweb of lightning arced horizontally across the sky, and Lancelot thought he could make out an outline of a land mass up ahead.
But it could also have been a trick of his mind, and in the next instant it didn't matter, for the current pulled him under and he was swept away.
.o.0.o.
Lancelot woke groggily to a damp cold and the smell of brine. He also thought he heard birds chirping—songbirds, not gulls. Confused, he prized his sticky eyelids open, only to squeeze them shut again as blinding pain shot through his head. He knew he had to get up, though, had to…
A gentle hand on his shoulder pressed him back against something spongy beneath him.
"Lie still," a lilting voice spoke softly.
Lancelot forced his eyes open again and squinted up at the amorphous shape hovering above him. It took a few moments for his vision to clear and the blurred figure to coalesce into a woman. Long black hair hung about her shoulders, the top layer woven into an intricate diamond lattice of braids and beads. Striking green eyes met his, made all the more bright in contrast to the deep pine green blouse and black vest she wore.
Despite her command to not move, Lancelot tried to lift his head again, grunting from the effort. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"My name is Lily. You're in a hunting lean-to. It was the closest shelter I could drag you to on my own."
He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but the pounding in his head worsened and he fell back once more, pressing a hand to his temple. He winced as he felt a swollen welt.
"You must have hit your head on the rocks when you washed ashore," the woman—Lily—continued. "You're lucky your skull wasn't split open."
Breathing through the pulsing in his head, Lancelot shifted his gaze up at her again. "Is this is the Isle of Asteron?"
"It is." She regarded him for a moment. "You are not from here."
He started to shake his head, then quickly aborted the attempt as lightning forked through his brain. "I was on a ship," he managed to get out. "We were caught in a storm."
His blood ran cold as he wondered what had happened to Arthur and the others.
"Did anyone else wash up on shore?" he asked urgently.
"Not where you did when I was passing by. But the currents split on the south side of the island, and other survivors could have been carried either direction."
"I have to find them." Lancelot tried to quell his dizziness by sheer force of will but of course failed.
"Lie still," his rescuer said more sternly. She twisted slightly where she knelt beside him and picked up a piece of curved bark. She then dipped her fingers into a carmine colored paste and reached for Lancelot's head.
He reflexively jerked away with a questioning look.
"It's medicine for your injury," Lily explained, holding her hand aloft.
Lancelot hesitated only a second more before settling back. He couldn't help but flinch when she touched the fresh contusion and gingerly began to massage the paste into his temple. He felt a strange sort of tingle building, and then the pain began to ease.
Lily leaned back and wiped her fingers on her black skirt. "Better?"
Lancelot caught himself before he could nod and ignite the fire again. "Yes. Thank you."
"Don't try getting up just yet," she warned.
"But my friends—"
"Will not be helped by you falling and cracking your head open a second time. My village is a few leagues from here. If any of my people come across your friends, they will help them. In the meantime, rest. When you are able, we will go."
Lancelot exhaled in exasperation. He didn't like it, but he recognized he didn't really have a choice. The pain in his head may have receded somewhat, but he could feel it throbbing under the surface, waiting for an excuse to come to the forefront again.
He closed his eyes hoping to keep it at bay and didn't realize when he drifted off.
.o.0.o.
Arthur stumbled across the gravel beach toward the ship lying wrecked in the shallows. Crew members that had survived the wreck and made it to shore were already there frantically loading up lifeboats with the supplies they could salvage.
"Arthur!"
He adjusted course with a stumble as Gwaine and Elyan lumbered over to him, damp shirts clinging to their frames. Arthur felt a rush of relief at seeing them alive.
"Who else made it to shore?" he asked urgently.
Gwaine's mouth was pinched into a tight line, his hair still dripping. "Most of the crew made it here. As for everyone else…" He shook his head.
Arthur's heart dropped into his stomach as he automatically swept his gaze across the beach in search of any more familiar figures. But there were none.
"They could have washed up further down the beach," Elyan put in.
Arthur nodded numbly; he'd come ashore half a mile away, barely within sight of the shipwreck to show him which direction to go. The others could just be out of sight…
A full body shudder wracked his frame, and he noticed Elyan and Gwaine were shivering too. Despite the daybreak, the sky was overcast and it was chilly. They were going to need shelter and a place to get warm as soon as possible.
"Elyan, start searching for dry wood we can use for a fire," Arthur ordered. He and Gwaine headed down to the surf to help the crew unload the supplies from the lifeboats as they came ashore, dragging everything further up the beach and out of reach of the tide.
"Arthur!" Gwaine suddenly exclaimed in alarm and went dashing off down the beach.
Arthur whipped his gaze over and spotted a body floating in the surf. A swatch of red around the neck had his heart leaping into his throat as he bolted after Gwaine.
The two of them splashed into the water and grabbed Merlin under the arms. His eyes were closed as they hauled him out of the surf and up onto the beach, his body completely limp.
"Merlin," Gwaine called urgently and slapped his cheek.
Arthur's chest refused to expand as he tried to see whether his manservant was breathing. Then Gwaine slapped him again and Merlin woke with a gasp and ragged cough. Arthur and Gwaine quickly rolled him onto his side as he hacked up seawater.
"What did I say about throwing up on my boots?" Arthur gibed, smiling with delirious relief that his friend was alive.
Merlin moaned and muttered something Arthur couldn't catch, but it might have sounded like "prat."
Arthur just grinned. "Come on." He and Gwaine hefted Merlin up and half carried him up the beach to where the supplies were being laid out. "We need shelter," he said loudly to the men gathered. "Use the sails to construct tents and get multiple fires going."
Elyan returned with an armful of firewood but quickly dropped it at the edge of the their makeshift camp when he spotted Merlin and hurried over.
"We need to get him warmed up," Gwaine said, crouching over the half-drowned servant.
"There's some dry tarpaulin in the lifeboat," a crewman spoke up.
Arthur nodded and gestured sharply for him to retrieve it.
Elyan went back for the kindling and set to building a fire near where Merlin lay shivering.
"Let's get a larger one going too," Arthur said. "It may help the others find us."
Elyan gave a brisk nod at that and finished the smaller fire he was kindling.
The crewman returned with the tarpaulin, which Gwaine took and swiftly wrapped around Merlin.
Arthur ran a hand through his damp hair and looked back at the ship lying broken in the shallows.
"Arthur?" Elyan spoke up quietly, having come over to him. "What are we going to do now?"
Arthur looked him in the eye, reminded of Elyan's youth as he looked to Arthur, the king, to have all the answers. But he didn't. Worry for Gwen gnawed at his heart, but he had to push all that aside for now and focus on the problems at hand.
"Our priority is shelter, salvaging what we can, and finding the others," he said. He swallowed hard. "Then we'll go from there."