A/N: Thank you GuestM, Guest, Buckhunter, pallysAramisRios, PadrePedro, emrysmorgan, and 29Pieces for reviewing!

Chapter 9

"It's time."

Lancelot looked up from his meditation and gazed at Evaine blankly. "Time for what?"

"For you to return to the land of the living and fulfill your destiny."

Lancelot got to his feet. He had been in the hidden valley for so long that the endgame of his training had become more of an abstract concept. For it to suddenly be real left him uncertain of what to think or feel.

"Come," Evaine said.

Lancelot followed her through the village and to one of the structures in the back he had never been in. Hayao was already there, along with the other elder masters. Lancelot pulled up short at the sight of himself—or rather his body—laid out on a cot and dressed in red and brown finery. A sword lay on top of him, hands folded over the hilt in the repose of the dead. It was a rather surreal sight.

"We have kept your body safe in preparation for this moment," Evaine told him.

Hayao came to stand in front of him. "The magic required for this resurrection will infuse your vessel with superior strength and stamina, which you will need in the coming battles. Also this."

Hayao removed one hand from the fold of his robe and held up what looked like a glittering star in his palm, scintillating so brightly that Lancelot could barely stand to look at it.

"The greatest weapon against the coming darkness is light. There will be a time to use it, and you will know when that is. Until that moment, guard it carefully, for it will be the last great weapon against the forces of evil."

Lancelot bowed his head. He was used to the old man's vague instructions and so did not bother asking for more explanation.

Evaine gestured for him to step forward and stand over his body. The elders gathered around him, and the air began to thrum with building power. Hayao held the star over Lancelot's mortal vessel, and Lancelot watched it float down and sink into his chest. The light flared from within, igniting Hayao's hand. The old man then stretched out his other hand and pressed it to Lancelot's sternum. He felt magic flood through him, felt a cord tethering him back to his body.

The room swelled with blinding white light.

"Godspeed," Hayao's voice reverberated through the swirling power. "The fate of the world depends on you."

Merlin sat with Lancelot's head in his lap, one hand resting over the knight's chest to measure the heartbeat within, making sure it didn't sputter out on them. The contact also helped him monitor for any resurgence of the Darkness's essence, but the more time that passed, the more confident he was that he'd gotten it all.

Gwaine poked at the small fire he and Percival had made in the cavern. "So," he said. "How long have you been a sorcerer?"

"I'm not," Merlin replied. "I have magic, but I was born with it."

Gwaine frowned. "There's no way Arthur knows."

Merlin shook his head. "No, no one does. Well, Gaius does. And Lancelot. And…now you two." He couldn't let himself think of the repercussions for that just yet, not until Lancelot woke up and Merlin knew he'd be okay.

Silence permeated the cave for several long moments, save for the snap and pop of the campfire.

"What on earth are you doing in Camelot as the king's manservant?" Gwaine finally asked incredulously. "The one place you'd be executed on the spot."

"That's why I've kept it a secret," Merlin replied. "And I don't think Arthur would do that. Uther would have, but Arthur is a better man."

"You lived in Camelot for years under Uther's reign," Gwaine pointed out. "Why? Why take such a risk?"

Merlin shrugged. "I had nowhere else to go. My mother thought Gaius could help me learn to control my magic, so she sent me here. And then Arthur became my friend. I use my magic for him, for Camelot. He's a better king than his father was. He accepted Lancelot's magic," Merlin added, belatedly realizing he was only affirming Lancelot's earlier argument for Merlin revealing himself.

"Is that how Lancelot knew about you?" Percival asked.

Merlin grimaced and shook his head. "No. He, uh, found out years ago, when we first met. He caught me using magic to help him slay the griffin."

Percival's brows furrowed. "I've heard that story. Arthur said Lancelot killed it."

"He did. I just…enchanted the lance he used so it would actually work. But he didn't want to take credit for it, so he left Camelot." Merlin still regretted that. Things had worked out in the end, with Lancelot returning and finally being knighted as he deserved.

"So," Gwaine spoke up. "When you went off with Lancelot when he went out to face the darkness, and Morgana in the storm, it was because you were also using your magic."

"Yes," Merlin admitted. "Lancelot told me he wasn't just sent back to fight for Arthur, but to help me too. Help me embrace my own destiny," he said ruefully.

"Which is?" Percival prompted.

"To be the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth." He dropped his gaze. "And now that I've revealed myself to Morgana, I imagine I'll have to face her in battle, soon."

"You called yourself a different name when you confronted her," Gwaine said.

"Emrys. It's what the Druids call me."

"She looked terrified by it," Gwaine remarked.

Merlin just nodded.

There was another beat of silence as his friends processed that.

"Well," Gwaine said. "And here we thought Lancelot was the all-powerful warrior."

"Lancelot isn't all-powerful," Merlin murmured, heart clenching as he looked down at his friend. "But he has been invaluable. I couldn't have defeated the recent evils without him."

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?" Percival asked.

Merlin shook his head. "I don't know. You two should return to Arthur, make sure he's okay. Just, um…what are you going to tell him?" he asked nervously.

The two knights were contemplative for a moment.

"If you're not ready for him to know, I won't be the one to tell him," Gwaine said. "I wish you'd trusted me enough to tell me the truth before, but I understand why you didn't. You've always been my friend, Merlin, and I will keep your secret."

"As will I," Percival echoed.

Merlin swallowed around a lump swelling in his throat. "Thank you."

They nodded back, and neither made a move to leave. They were Lancelot's friends too and were intent on watching over him as well.

Arthur sat on the edge of his bed, gaze despondent as Gwen helped him slip into a clean shirt, careful to pull the sleeve and neck over his wounded shoulder. It was a shallow wound that had only required a few stitches. Arthur had gotten off lucky. Many others had not. Four knights were dead, and several others had been severely injured, though Gaius was confident they would all recover.

"I can't believe this has happened," Arthur murmured.

Gwen sat beside him and took his hand, expression pinched in commiseration. "We could send out scouts…"

He shook his head. "It's too dangerous. I don't know what made Lancelot stop in the middle of slaughtering us all, but he and Morgana are still out there." He swallowed hard. "It's most likely that Gwaine, Percival, and Merlin ran into them before the attack and were killed."

That Lancelot had killed them.

"We don't know that," Gwen argued. "And Lancelot did stop. Perhaps he was fighting Morgana's control."

Arthur wasn't sure about that. He'd seen Lancelot up close, seen how ruthless and empty he'd been when he was bearing down on Arthur with the intent to kill. He didn't know if there was anything left of his friend inside that hollow shell, bent to Morgana's will. And there was certainly no one powerful enough to break such a deadly enchantment.

"Lancelot is lost," Arthur said. "And without him, what hope is there for us in these final days?"

"We've faced seemingly insurmountable forces before and emerged victorious," Gwen reminded him. "I have faith you will lead us through whatever comes. And I have faith in Merlin. He's gotten out of tough situations in the past. So have Gwaine and Percival. We can't give up hope."

Arthur leaned over and rested his head against hers. "I pray you're right."

Lancelot woke to the sensation of being partially pillowed against another body, two spots on his chest and head warm from hands resting there. It was foreign and disorienting, and he tensed as he focused his senses before opening his eyes.

"Lancelot?"

Merlin? Lancelot recognized his friend's presence a split second before the voice had registered, and he opened his eyes. Merlin was gazing down at him with a mixture of hope and concern. And then it all came rushing back.

Lancelot squeezed his eyes shut. "No," he whispered in horror and shame.

"Lancelot…"

He pushed himself upright and scooted away, pressing himself up against a large rock and clutching at his chest. The Darkness was gone, but he remembered it. He remembered everything. He shot a frantic look at Merlin, but he didn't appear injured.

"I'm so sorry, Merlin," he said hoarsely.

"It wasn't your fault," Merlin readily replied.

Lancelot shook his head, vaguely noticing Gwaine and Percival were there as well. "Oh God, Arthur."

"He's still alive," Merlin said. "You didn't kill him."

"I tried to," Lancelot choked. "I tried to kill you."

Gray toned images flashed through his mind's eye, knights he had cut down without thought. How many of his own did he slaughter out there? Men he was supposed to defend.

"That was Morgana," Merlin said staunchly. "You were enchanted. Everyone could see that. Arthur won't blame you."

Lancelot continued shaking his head. "There were many who didn't trust me before, but after this? I cannot return to Camelot."

"That's it?" Gwaine interjected. "You're just going to leave? What about your mission to fight for Arthur?"

Lancelot's chest tightened. "I will stay nearby, so that when the next battle comes, I will be there."

"You can't stay out here alone," Percival put in. "What if Morgana comes after you again?"

Lancelot blanched at that. He'd been powerless against the Darkness she now wielded inside her. Should she manage to corner him a second time, she could corrupt him all over again. And yet how could he return to Camelot after what he'd done?

He supposed he must, if only to own up to his guilt and accept responsibility for his actions, whether they were by his will or not. He had still failed to protect Arthur.

"Very well," he quietly conceded and pushed himself to his feet with effort.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked worriedly, hovering close. "I did knock you around pretty hard."

"I'm fine." He noticed some aches throughout his body now that Merlin had mentioned it, but the primary source of his unsteadiness was the shock and trauma of having pure evil contaminate him wholly and completely from the inside out.

He paused to take a moment and turn his senses inward, searching for the spark inside his soul. To his relief, it was still there, burning bright once more. When he shifted back to the present, Merlin was eyeing him closely again.

"Thank you," Lancelot told him. He knew it had to have been Merlin that freed him.

Merlin merely nodded, and the four of them left the caves and started back toward Camelot.

Once the city came into view, Lancelot felt his steps grow heavier, like the weight of his guilt was a literal stone on his back. But he forced himself to keep going. By the time they passed through the gate into the castle courtyard, news of their arrival had already spread, and the courtyard was lined with knights holding drawn swords. Arthur was there as well, arm in a sling. He swept a narrowed gaze over them all, then queried guardedly,

"Merlin?"

"It's Lancelot," he confirmed. "He's free of Morgana's enchantment."

Lancelot took in a shaky breath and stepped forward. Several knights visibly tensed, looking ready to attack, but Arthur held up a hand to stay them. Lancelot dropped to his knees before his king.

"I would beg your forgiveness, Sire, if there was any amount of forgiveness that could excuse what I've done."

Arthur regarded him tensely for a long moment, then moved forward and held out his good arm. Lancelot hesitated before taking it, and Arthur pulled him to his feet.

"It was Morgana's enchantment, not you," Arthur said. "I'm glad you're all right." He turned to Merlin, Gwaine, and Percival. "And where the hell have you all been? We thought you were dead."

Merlin grimaced. "Well, I found these two in the woods."

"Morgana had captured us to use as bait for Lancelot," Gwaine interrupted. "After she enchanted him and left, Merlin found and freed us, and then we managed to lure Lancelot away from you all so we could capture him and undo the enchantment."

Arthur's brows rose sharply. "And how exactly did you manage all that?"

Gwaine gave a casual shrug. "It was easy to goad Morgana into sending Lancelot after us. And once we got him away from her, those elemental spirits that were pissy before decided to be helpful again."

Lancelot frowned. He hadn't even thought of how to explain what had happened. And he hadn't realized that with Gwaine and Percival being in that cave that they must now know about Merlin's magic and were covering for him. He felt a small measure of comfort at that, at least, that Merlin had some more support now.

Arthur squinted at Gwaine skeptically for a long moment before apparently deciding to believe the wild tale. "Well, I'm really glad you're all okay. I couldn't bear such a devastating loss." He glanced at Merlin.

Lancelot swallowed hard. "How many knights did I…?"

Arthur's expression sobered. "It wasn't you," he said grimly.

"But it was my hand." He looked around at the gathered knights, noting the many wary looks still directed toward him. "I was meant to be your sword, and it was turned against you. So I will remove myself from Camelot, though I won't go far. And when you need me, I will come."

Merlin scowled loudly. "Haven't we already been over this?"

"Percival and I saw what happened," Gwaine spoke up, projecting his voice for everyone to hear. "Morgana could have enchanted any one of us the same way."

"But she chose him," Sir Bors interjected. "Because out of all of us, he's capable of decimating an army."

Lancelot ducked his gaze in shame.

"Let's not forget who the real enemy is here," Gwaine rejoined.

"Indeed," Arthur echoed. "We have seen what evil magic can do, which makes it all the more vital that we stand together to defeat it." He nodded to Lancelot. "I do not want you to leave."

Lancelot bowed deeply. "As my lord wishes."

He was keenly aware of the narrowed eyes still fixed on him, even as Elyan and Leon came forward to embrace him.

"I'm so sorry," Lancelot said, eyeing the bruises they were sporting.

"We know it wasn't you," Elyan said, echoing what he'd been told already.

It didn't make Lancelot feel any better, though. He'd already been set apart from everyone else, and this incident only alienated him more.

A week passed without further incidents, which Arthur was grateful for. There were many men still healing and townspeople working to rebuild their homes. Yet it also made everyone nervous, because they were waiting for the next big calamity to strike.

Arthur sat in Gaius's chambers, enduring an examination.

"Your shoulder is healing well," the physician declared.

Arthur rotated his shoulder himself, also pleased with the progress. He needed to be in fighting shape by the time the next battle arose. Assuming there was going to be one. How were they supposed to know when the end of the world had been averted?

He looked around the room. "Where's Lancelot?"

Merlin cast him a glum look. "After the thing with Morgana, he moved into his own chambers and hasn't come out since."

"He's still blaming himself for what happened," Gaius said.

Arthur frowned. He'd been so busy that he hadn't noticed the knight had locked himself away, which was unnecessary. They had all made it clear Lancelot wasn't at fault.

He decided to go speak with him, but his knock on Lancelot's door was met with,

"Not now, Merlin."

So Arthur let himself in.

Lancelot was standing by the window, but he turned at the sound of the door opening, a frustrated scowl on his face. It instantly deflated when he saw it wasn't Merlin barging in on him.

"My lord," he said and bowed.

"You can drop the formalities, Lancelot," Arthur replied. "It's just the two of us here."

Lancelot didn't say anything and kept his gaze slightly averted from looking Arthur in the eye.

Arthur crossed his arms. "It's not like you to hide away like this," he commented.

Lancelot flinched as though he'd been reprimanded. "It seemed silly to lock myself in the dungeon."

Arthur sighed. "What will it take to convince you that you were not responsible for what Morgana made you do while under her control?"

Lancelot half turned away from him. "I remember it all," he said quietly. "I remember stabbing you. I remember striking down everyone that tried to stop me. I don't know if I can't recall their faces and names because they were knighted after my death or because they simply didn't matter to Morgana. But I remember what it felt like to kill them."

Arthur let his arms drop to his sides again, rocked by the admission. "I didn't realize," he said, voice pitched equally low.

There had been a funeral pyre for those slain knights, but Lancelot hadn't attended. At the time Arthur had thought it was probably best, but now he wondered if it had been unfair not to give him a chance to mourn as well.

Lancelot angled his head back toward the window and the sunlight streaming through it. "I wonder if the order regrets sending me on this mission," he mused aloud. "They made such a big deal over it being my destiny, even though there were plenty of other warriors more capable than me. And for me to be turned against the very people I was sent to protect…" He shook his head. "I must be such a great disappointment."

Arthur regarded his friend for a long moment, seeing him in a new light. Or rather, seeing him in an old one, as the man he used to be before all the magic and power. "I know something about having enormous expectations drilled into me," he said. "I was born a prince and raised to be a king. It's a heavy responsibility, governing the people. But to bear the weight of the entire world? That's a lot of pressure."

"It's what I was trained for," Lancelot repeated tonelessly.

"No amount of training can fully prepare one to bear the reality," Arthur countered. "I learned that when I went from being just a prince to king. But I also learned I did not have to bear the weight alone, that my friends were there to support and guide me." He paused and moved closer to Lancelot. "You may think this burden lies on your shoulders alone, but it doesn't. We all have our roles, and it is our united front that will win the day."

Lancelot turned toward him, expression softening. "You are a wise king, Arthur."

"I have a wise queen who reminds me of these things," he admitted with a small smile. "I also hope I am a trusted friend as well," he added, reaching out to clasp Lancelot's shoulder. "You were my friend once, and I hope it is still true. I don't want or need just a sword. Perhaps that is why you were chosen to come back and why no one else could do it, because there is no one I would trust more."

Lancelot's eyes wavered with a myriad of emotions. "It has been a long time since I've been around true friends."

"And your true friends know what happened with Morgana was not your fault." Arthur released his grip on Lancelot's shoulder. "I know you've been keeping them at arm's length since your return. Maybe it's been intentional, or maybe it's just a subconscious reaction to being back after so long from your perspective, but you are back. And great mission to save the world or not, I hope you know Camelot is your home."

Lancelot nodded stiffly, looking choked up. "You are a good friend, Arthur. And a good king." He paused, then went on to say, "You have more true friends than you know. And I hope that when they reveal themselves, you will remember your words here today."

Arthur furrowed his brows at the cryptic message. But instead of asking for details, he just nodded. "Alright."

After all, he said he trusted Lancelot, so that's what he would do.