A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, Vanvdreamer, Buckhunter, GuestM, Guest, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing!
Chapter 11
Arthur wasn't able to get away from his duties until that evening. He knew he should have visited Lancelot sooner. The other knights had been by Gaius's chambers after the withdrawal ordeal was over, but Arthur had kept his distance, wanting to respect Lancelot's wish to not appear weak before his king. He hated that divide that would always set him apart from everyone around him—he could not always be liege lord and friend.
But tonight he would try to be both as he went to Lancelot's chambers.
He found Lancelot sitting at the table, posture slumped as he stared disinterestedly at a plate of food set in front of him. Merlin was at the other end of the table, mixing up some medicines into a cup.
Arthur cleared his throat when neither seemed to notice him. "Mind if I come in?"
Lancelot startled. "Your Highness." He started to rise, but Arthur gestured for him to keep his seat.
Arthur came and sat in the chair perpendicular to him, resting one arm on the table. "How are you doing? You look better."
"I'm fine," Lancelot replied but didn't meet Arthur's gaze.
Arthur looked to Merlin, expecting a cheeky correction to that assessment, but Merlin kept his head down and remained quiet as he set the cup of medicine next to Lancelot. There was a clear tension between the two of them that flummoxed Arthur. He couldn't remember there ever being strife between them.
"Arthur," Merlin said in deference and then excused himself from the room.
A few quips at Merlin's expense ran through Arthur's mind, but looking at Lancelot, he decided against saying any of them. "Gaius is optimistic about your recovery," he said instead. "And I hope you know everyone is here to help you however we can."
"You shouldn't waste the time and resources," Lancelot said quietly. "I already know I will never be a knight again."
Arthur frowned at the unsettling echo of what his council members had advocated those first few weeks after Lancelot had disappeared. He hoped no one had dared repeat such a thing within Lancelot's hearing, though the convalescing knight had been tightly sequestered most of the time, so that was unlikely. Which almost made his statement worse, that he would think so on his own.
"You don't know that," Arthur countered. "And you don't need to think that far ahead right now. You only need to focus on getting better."
"I can't stop thinking about it," he rejoined.
"Lancelot, no matter what happens, you will always have a place in Camelot, whether you're a knight or not."
Lancelot finally lifted his gaze to meet Arthur's. "If I'm not a knight, then what am I? All my life, I devoted myself to the Knight's Code, to learning and living by the sword. And now I don't think I can ever pick one up again."
"There's more to being a knight than the sword. There's honor and justice, and standing up for what's right. You know that as well as anyone."
Lancelot looked away again. "I no longer have my honor," he murmured.
Arthur frowned. They had yet to get much information about what happened in that despicable fortress. Based on what they'd seen, they could easily imagine the horrors, but that wasn't the same as knowing the details.
"Do you want to talk about what happened in that place?" he asked.
Lancelot shook his head sharply. "No." He closed his eyes, voice breaking. "Please don't command me to."
"I would never do that," Arthur said, and it pained him that Lancelot would think he would. "Whenever you're ready, any one of us are here to listen. You don't have to bear this alone."
Lancelot didn't respond, and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Arthur finally shifted awkwardly and stood up. He opened his mouth, wanting to assure his friend that everything would be all right, but it would be trite and probably not well received. So Arthur held his tongue, and with a short nod, turned and left.
He found Merlin out in the hall, leaning against the wall, head bowed.
"Did something happen between you and Lancelot?" Arthur asked.
Merlin shook his head. "Nothing like that. It's just…I make him uncomfortable. My magic makes him uncomfortable."
Arthur furrowed his brows in surprise at that. Lancelot had known about Merlin's magic long before the rest of them did, and he had been a staunch supporter of Merlin when the servant had first revealed his secret.
"The sorcerer in that fight ring," Merlin went on, "forcibly healed the fighters almost every day. He was brutal about it. Lancelot can't stand the touch of any magic now, not even mine. He won't even let me use it to help him sleep, which he used to always welcome when he was hurt or sick."
Arthur reached out to clasp Merlin's shoulder. "Lancelot will come around, he just needs time." He quirked a wry smile at his friend. "Look how I eventually came around to magic."
Merlin gave him a wan smile in return, but he didn't look convinced.
"Remember what Gaius said," Arthur added. "This is going to be a long road."
For all of them.
.o.0.o.
"Two more," Elyan coaxed, kneeling on the floor and helping Lancelot with some of his leg strengthening exercises.
Lancelot sucked in a sharp breath as he raised his leg straight up in the air, then tried to slowly lower it back down. Elyan could see it shaking from the effort, and he was only on number eight of ten.
"Breathe," Elyan reminded him.
Lancelot let the air he was holding out in a rush, and his leg dropped heavily.
Elyan slid his hand beneath Lancelot's calf and helped lift it for the last one, careful to let Lancelot do all the work.
Lancelot lowered his leg with a grunt and simply lay on the floor, out of breath. That was only two reps for each leg, and Elyan could tell he was frustrated by the extremely slow progress after a week of this therapy three times a day. But Gaius had warned them it would take a while. It wasn't just muscle weakness Lancelot had to contend with, but the scarring that went deep into them and restricted their flexibility.
"You did good," Elyan said, reaching for Lancelot's arm to help him up and onto the bed. He then went to get the heated bricks from the fireplace and wrapped them in a blanket to lay against the muscles to help them relax after the strenuous workout. It was already a warm summer day, so the heat was a little uncomfortable, but it was necessary.
Elyan wished they could go outside. Lancelot could bear the sunlight now and some fresh air would no doubt do him good after being cooped up for so long. Unfortunately, he wasn't at the point where he could make it down the four levels to the courtyard, so they just had to settle with the open window for circulation.
Elyan waited for the heating round to finish, then removed the bricks and started on the deep massage for the muscles, which Lancelot gritted his teeth for and bit back whimpers of pain. Elyan hated causing him discomfort, but Gaius had also been very firm with the knights about what they needed to do for the treatment to be effective. It was all in the name of healing.
Elyan finished that phase and followed it up with one of the many tonics on the table.
Lancelot sighed heavily in exasperation as he took the cup and swallowed its contents in one go. He then thunked his head back against the headboard. "You and the other knights should not be stuck playing nursemaid to me."
"That's not how we see it," Elyan replied, taking the cup back to the table. "If it were one of us recovering from a serious injury, wouldn't you be here doing the same?"
Lancelot didn't respond to that, but Elyan knew he would be.
He thought about asking Lancelot about his time in the fight ring but bit the question back before it could get out. They had all spoken with Gaius and agreed that Lancelot needed to talk about it eventually, but they couldn't push him into it. Still, Elyan could see that Lancelot was suffering inwardly in silence, and he hated not being able to help him.
There was a knock at the door a second before it opened and Gwen came in, followed by two servants bearing trays of lunch, which they set out on the table.
"I hope you're both hungry," she said with a smile.
"I am," Elyan replied. "Lancelot?"
Lancelot wordlessly pushed himself up and off the bed. Elyan watched tensely for if he needed help as he limped his way over to the table. Fortunately, it wasn't that far, and he slumped in his seat without incident.
Gwen began dishing out their servings and then took a seat herself. The silence save for the scraping of their utensils on the plates was awkward, so Gwen started filling it with idle conversation about her day's events. Elyan obliged her with questions and interest, but Lancelot seemed to be barely paying attention, more focused on picking at his food. He'd struggled with his appetite since returning but he'd eventually eat everything on his plate, even if it took him a bit longer.
"And how has your day been?" Gwen asked with forced cheerfulness.
Elyan waited for Lancelot to answer, but when he didn't, Elyan took it upon himself to recount their workout that morning. Gwen gave a tight smile and nodded, both of them sharing concerned looks across the table. But they continued with their tedious prattle anyway.
They didn't know what else to do to reach their friend, returned to their fold and yet still so far away.
.o.0.o.
Lancelot couldn't bear the kindness of his friends. He knew he didn't deserve it. They kept offering him encouragement, telling him he was getting better every day but why should he be the one to get better? Why did he get to escape that hellhole when no one else before him ever had? When Tolu hadn't?
If only Lancelot could have held out longer, could have kept the boy going, he would have been rescued and returned to his family. But he hadn't been, and it was because of Lancelot. If his fellow knights knew what he'd done, they would be disgusted with him. But as much as Lancelot hated their care, he also couldn't bear the thought of driving them away and being utterly alone again.
So he went on pretending, though he knew he wasn't very good at it. He didn't miss the subtle looks everyone gave each other around him when he failed to engage enough, and yet he couldn't find the energy to try harder. Everything was hard enough as it was.
Merlin kept his distance and Lancelot missed him, but it was better this way he told himself. His nightmares about Tolu had begun morphing into dreams of Merlin in the cage with the serket. Lancelot dreamed of stabbing the warlock instead.
"Lancelot, wake up!" a voice pierced the darkness, and Lancelot's eyes snapped open.
He thrashed against restraints, foggy mind struggling to catch up to the change in environment. He was in a bed, not a cage. There was a single candle on the nightstand, not torches. Merlin was sitting on the edge of the mattress, clutching his arms.
"It's all right, you're safe."
Lancelot tried to scramble away from him, but the sheets tangled around his legs prevented it. "No, don't," he said hoarsely, pushing Merlin's hands off. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You're not," Merlin said, voice steady. "It was just a nightmare."
Lancelot twisted away and buried his face into his pillow as tears spilled forth to soak it. "I killed you."
"You didn't kill me, I'm right here. It was just a dream."
"I would have," Lancelot choked out. "If it was you in that cage, I would have."
Merlin was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"
Lancelot let out a shuddering sob. "I killed a boy."
Merlin shifted on the bed, and Lancelot tensed in expectation of being touched, but none came.
"I thought you weren't allowed to kill your opponents," Merlin said carefully.
"He begged me to. He couldn't keep up in the fights, so they threw him to the beasts to be ripped apart and put back together. The sigils prevented us from taking our own lives, so when the two of us were pitted against each other in the cage, he begged me to kill him. So I did. I killed him." Lancelot's breathing hitched as he wept into his pillow. "They punished me for it, I knew they would. But he was just a boy. He didn't deserve what they did to him."
"Neither did you."
Lancelot shook his head, smearing his tears across his face. "I killed him."
"It was an impossible situation. What you did was mercy."
Lancelot sat upright with a surge of anger. "Mercy, really? If that's so, then why couldn't my friends grant me the same? You should have let me die when the drug took me!"
Merlin's face pinched with pain at that. "You were home then. You were free."
"I'll never be free," he retorted. "I see it, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at myself." He gestured sharply at his scars. "You may have brought my body back to Camelot but my mind never left the cage."
Tolu was the lucky one after all, spared the torment of surviving unspeakable horrors that would never stop, even after they were over.
Merlin's eyes swam with anguish. "Lancelot…please let me use magic to help you sleep. I can keep the nightmares away—"
"No!" He recoiled sharply, bumping against the headboard. "Don't touch me."
Tears welled in Merlin's eyes. "I won't use magic without your permission," he promised. "Just…" He inched further onto the bed, keeping one hand raised non-threateningly. "Don't send me away."
Lancelot tensed as Merlin drew closer. He hated not being able to trust his friend. He used to trust Merlin implicitly.
Merlin's throat bobbed as he slowly scooted closer and reached out to touch Lancelot's shoulder. Lancelot flinched, expecting Merlin to betray him and cast a spell.
But he didn't. He simply pulled Lancelot into his arms and held him tightly.
"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Lancelot didn't know what he was apologizing for, none of this was his fault. But his fervent embrace broke something inside Lancelot, and he wept all over again in the arms of his best friend.