A/N: This was first posted on AO3 in November 2020. The fic is set during season 4 episode 2, before Merlin, Arthur & the knights have reached the Veil.
"I see the way you look at me."
Merlin doesn't know what to say. He stares into the fire, as though it might help him escape Lancelot's quiet scrutiny. The flames crackle while the knights around them snore, and Merlin's heart pounds.
Lancelot's voice softens. "When you think I'm not looking."
Merlin bites back a sigh. He can't hide anything from Lancelot, can he? Not his magic. Not his heart.
His hands are still damp from rinsing the stew pot; his bones ache from being frozen, healed but still tender. Lancelot's the only one who knows the truth of Merlin's recovery, so he refuses to let the other knights take on all of his duties, and truthfully he's exhausted but right now, every nerve is alight, keenly awake.
Lancelot reaches across, and Merlin doesn't flinch when Lancelot clasps one of his hands, though it takes all of his courage.
"Merlin…" He doesn't dare look, but he can feel the warmth of Lancelot's gaze on his skin. "I've never known anyone like you."
Maybe Lancelot is saying this because they could die tomorrow. Merlin knows his own fate is sealed at the Veil, but there's no knowing for certain if the Cailleach will demand even greater sacrifices than just one life. No knowing if the Dorocha might target someone that Merlin isn't quick enough to save. Merlin must protect Arthur – but what if the knights are lost with him?
(The thought of Lancelot's death hurts Merlin more than the thought of losing his own life.)
Maybe Lancelot thinks they'll both be dead by tomorrow's sundown. Or maybe-
Merlin doesn't intend to see Camelot again, not if he can fulfil his destiny tomorrow, but all the same, he lets himself wonder. Maybe Lancelot is saying this because he thinks they both might live.
Lancelot is still holding his hand.
Merlin finally looks at him.
