"Come on," Gwaine pleaded, "You can't say you're busy. I know Leon gave you the night off." Gwaine lunged forward to block the door, forcing the other knight to stop and acknowledge him at least.
"I don't think drinking is what Leon had in mind when he suggested I take a night off," Lancelot replied, glaring at the other man.
Gwaine laughed. "I'm off tonight; he knew I'd be drinking."
Lancelot gave him a flat look. "What's your point?"
"Come on," Gwaine repeated. "It'll be fun."
Lancelot rolled his eyes. "I don't think dragging your intoxicated person back to your chambers at four in the morning counts as fun."
Gwaine shrugged. "You've never complained about it before."
Lancelot sighed. "I just want some time to myself."
"That is the last thing you need," Gwaine replied, grasping Lancelot's shoulders and forcibly turning him away from the castle. "You need to relax."
"And drinking with you somehow qualifies as relaxing?" Lancelot questioned even as he allowed the older man to guide him down to Gwaine's favorite tavern. This only got a barked laugh as a response. "Fine," Lancelot agreed. "One drink, but then I am going to bed whether you stay or not."
"That's the spirit," Gwaine cheered as he draped an arm over Lancelot's shoulders. "It'll be great. You'll see."
"Great" wasn't the word Lancelot would have used. The tavern was crowded and loud and honestly smelled from too many patron's inability to determine when they'd had too much. Gwaine managed to claim a table for them and was immediately served by a very pretty barmaid who winked at the rogue knight as she set two pints down on the table. Gwaine grinned as he picked up his tankard and took a deep draft.
Reluctantly, Lancelot took a sip of his own. He didn't really want to be here. They had only been back in Camelot for two days. There was still so much to do. The kingdom's citizens were in the process of returning to their lands. Arthur had determined to send guards and knights with each village, to make sure no wandering marauders decided to take advantage of the peasants' slow return to their homes. Lancelot intended to be one of those knights. He needed to get out, to get away. Just for a time. To think and decide if he really belonged here.
Lancelot glanced up and was surprised to find that Gwaine had already gathered an audience to hear more of his tales. Lancelot was never sure whether or not Gwaine embellished his stories for the sake of his listeners. At first, he had assumed that all of Gwaine's stories were complete fabrications, but after having had time to get to know the other man, he was no longer sure. He could certainly imagine Gwaine having to hide in an empty brandy barrel for two days after a tavern fight that once again wasn't his fault.
Lancelot sighed and took another sip of his ale. He had wanted to spend the evening thinking, but perhaps he could do that just as well here, since Gwaine didn't seem to need his attention. He leaned back against he wall behind him, effectively hiding himself in the shadows and let his mind wander.
He knew that Gwaine and the others were worried. He'd overheard Leon asking Percival if everything was okay with him. The other knights still seemed to associate the two of them as if Percival had better insight into Lancelot than anyone else. Percival had suggested that Lancelot was just tired and shortly after, Leon had told Lancelot that he had the night off.
Lancelot wasn't tired. Well, he was tired, but it wasn't just that. He'd had trouble sleeping since the day they left that cursed place. Not even long days on the road had helped. His mind had refused to allow him rest even while his body craved it. His mind was too busy playing over the events of that day.
Lancelot had told Merlin that looking at the young man's willingness to sacrifice his life for another made him question himself and that had been true. But there was more to it. After he and Merlin had rejoined the others, he had overheard Merlin tell Arthur it would all work out and that he would take Arthur's place. That's when he realized that both men had known from the beginning what the price was to close the tear between the worlds. They'd known and set out anyway. Lancelot wasn't sure he'd have been able to do it.
It really was amazing to him. The lengths these two would go to. Not just for the kingdom, though that was certainly part of it, but for each other. Merlin had said, "You have to have a reason." And Lancelot suspected that Arthur was that reason. Arthur was a good man and would make a good king, but part of Lancelot had always wondered how Merlin could serve him when he had magic. Lancelot didn't believe that Arthur, should he learn of Merlin's secret, would kill him as the law required, but Arthur wouldn't be able to completely ignore the law either. So, how did Arthur come to earn such loyalty from his servant?
He'd asked Merlin about it once, but the answer had been unsatisfying at best.
"Arthur's a good man," Merlin had said, "And someday, he'll make a great king. Not that I'll ever tell him that. His head's big enough as it is."
Lancelot shook his head. "But not to everyone," he argued, sensing there was something more to it that Merlin wasn't telling him. "Afterall, he doesn't trust magic any better than his father. How can you, a practitioner of the thing the King hates the most, find such faith in his son?"
Merlin sighed. "Arthur isn't his father," he said firmly. "Besides," he shrugged and smiled softly, "It's my destiny."
"Destiny?" Lancelot questioned. "Surely you don't believe in that."
Merlin gave him a startled look. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because," Lancelot waved his hands, trying to find the right words. "Because if you believed in destiny you never would have tried to help me become a knight the first time. By all rights, I was never destined to be a knight. If I was, I would have been born to a noble family."
Merlin laughed at him. "Destiny isn't that simple," Merlin replied. "Destiny isn't set by laws or men, not even kings. Destiny looks beyond all that. Destiny is about what's best for everyone."
"And you think that's Arthur?" Lancelot questioned.
"I know it is," Merlin said simply.
Lancelot had stared at him until the younger man had laughed and somehow managed to change the subject. Looking back now, it was obvious that Merlin was always willing to sacrifice himself for Arthur, for a destiny that Lancelot could not understand.
Lancelot accepted the second mug of ale without even noticing he'd finished the first.
Gwaine, however, did notice. He had been right. The other man was worrying about something and Gwaine was sure that it was somehow related to Merlin. That's what was bothering him, afterall, and he knew that Merlin and Lancelot had some secret between them. Something no one else seemed aware of, except perhaps Gaius, who seemed to know everything. Gwaine shook his head and finished his current story before starting a game of cards.
After years of travelling from tavern to tavern, Gwaine had built up quite a tolerance to alcohol. Tonight, he was going to keep it just this side of well and truly drunk, unlike he had done the night before. The night before had been a night of anger and mourning, which was how he somehow ended up sleeping in the stable with Merlin's very patient mare watching over him.
A part of Gwaine was still furious at everything that had happened, but he managed to shove it down where no one else would see it. He'd already done the running and shouting thing. It hadn't helped. Last night, he'd tried the violence thing, but only managed to bruise his hand and maybe break a couple of empty stall doors in the stable. He was hoping that once Lancelot was sufficiently lubricated, they could both say what they needed to say and get past what had happened.
After several hours and several more pints of ale, Gwaine begged off the game, claiming early morning training with the Prince. His latest friends shouted for him to stay, but then filled his seat quickly as he turned to haul Lancelot to his feet. Keeping his arm around Lancelot's shoulder's, Gwaine stumbled their way back to the castle, to Lancelot's chamber, which was always neater than his own, and dropped the other knight onto his bed, before claiming a chair.
Gwaine chuckled as Lancelot struggled to get his boots off. "See?" he asked lightly, "Wasn't so bad, was it?" Lancelot tried to glare at him, but his eyes wouldn't focus. "Merlin always enjoyed it," Gwaine continued. "He introduced me to that place the first time I was here. Have a lot of good memories of him there," Gwaine admitted. "And you-"
"Should have saved him," Lancelot broke in angrily, "I know."
Gwaine stared at the knight. So that's what was bothering him. "Lance," Gwaine murmured with a shake of his head.
"I knew what he was going to do," Lancelot continued, as if Gwaine had said nothing. "I knew. He told me. Told me he was happy to do it. And I believed him. He's the one who should have been a knight. He shouldn't have been with us at all. It wasn't safe. He couldn't protect himself."
Gwaine shrugged. "I know he's not good with a sword, but he wasn't totally defenseless."
"He was," Lancelot insisted. "This time, more than any other, he was. He couldn't do anything. They were immune."
"Who was immune?" Gwaine asked, confused. "Immune to what?"
"The doracha," Lancelot replied. "He was defenseless. He shouldn't have gone. The Doracha scared him. I'd never seen Merlin scared before. Not like that. But still he went. He went knowing that Arthur planned to sacrifice himself to close the tear. Knowing that he would take Arthur's place. I should have insisted that he go back to Camleot, but he was so stubborn and I assumed that he'd be safe."
Gwaine frowned as it finally registered that Lancelot was been the only witness to what had happened with the Cailleach.
"What exactly happened?" Gwaine asked.
"I hesitated," Lancelot admitted. "I hesitated, hoping there was still a way out of it. A way for all of us to go home. And because of that..."
Gwaine shook his head. "You can't honestly think it was your fault."
"It is my fault," Lancelot moaned, his face dropping into his hands. "I promised Guinevere. I promised on my life that I would protect Arthur. But Merlin said I didn't have to. That he would, but that wasn't right. It was my vow. My promise. But I hesitated. I wanted to say good-bye and Merlin saw. He stopped me. He wouldn't let me fulfill my vow. And now he's gone and it's my fault. He was more honourable than us all."
Gwaine shrugged. He couldn't argue Merlin's honour. "Still doesn't make it your fault," Gwaine insisted. "Any one of us could have stopped him."
Lancelot snorted, turning a glare on Gwaine. "Really? You think you could have stopped him? Stopped him when he threw you halfway across the room?"
Gwaine frowned. "Threw? Merlin threw you?" Lancelot faltered and Gwaine finally realized the secret. "You know about Merlin's magic?" he asked.
Lancelot's face went white and Gwaine knew he was right.
"That's old news, mate," Gwaine told him. "I knew the first time we met. He was throwing plates in that tavern fight. And he wasn't using his hands."
Lancelot nodded slightly, his voice soft, "It was his magic that killed the griffin."
"Huh," Gwiane grunted. "I kind of figured he could do more with it than just make branches fall at the perfect time and clean Arthur's armour. I wasn't raised in Camelot. I grew up with Druids and magic users. Never bothered me. I was hoping he'd get around to telling me himself, but, guess that's not going to happen now." Lancelot continued to stare at the other knight, shocked at his obvious nonchalance. "But I think that goes to prove the point, doesn't it? None of us could have stopped him. Not when he had magic."
Lancelot simply continued to gape at the other knight. Gwaine had known. Known all along. And he'd kept the secret, without being asked, without Merlin even knowing. He wasn't sure what to make of this, but one thing had gotten through. Maybe, just maybe, Gwaine was right. Maybe there really was nothing Lancelot could have done. Nothing at all. Maybe he had simply lost a friend. Not betrayed, not failed. Lost.
"We did lose him," Gwaine agreed, mildly amused since Lancelot didn't even seem to be aware that he was speaking aloud as his brain tried to piece everything together. "But we won't forget him. And we won't let Arthur forget him either, will we?"
Lancelot shook his head and murmured, "Never." Gwaine smirked as the younger man finally relaxed and then, rather suddenly, passed out. It was a good thing he had already been on his bed, otherwise he would have been sleeping on the floor.
Gwaine gave his legs a good shove so they were on the bed before snagging a spare blanket and getting comfy in the chair. And for the first time since they had lost Merlin, both knights slept deeply.
I want to thank all of you who had favorited, followed, and reviewed my story. I intended up upload weekly at the latest, but that kind of failed. I originally intended this to be a short, two to three page drabble. And for a several years, it was, but it never felt complete. Then I added to it. Found a way to finish it and it turned into something closer to 30 pages. I broke it into chapters, something I don't ordinarily do and posted chapter 1. Then I realized that there was so much more I wanted to add. And all of it right after chapter 1!
Chapter 2 was an expansion of what was originally only two measly paragraphs. This chapter hadn't existed at all. And I have several more moments I want to explore before I get back to the content I already have written. What was I thinking?!
Oh, yes, I was thinking I love this show.
Well, thank you again and I hope you enjoyed and continue to enjoy this little what-if scenario. Until next week, stay safe and out of trouble!