When Lancelot returned, the bottom dropped out of Arthur's stomach.
Lancelot was alone.
"Lancelot?" Arthur asked. "Where's Merlin?"
Lancelot made a face and Arthur was certain that his heart stopped. "Bad news."
Oh no. No, no, no…
Lancelot smiled. "He's still alive."
Lancelot stepped out of the way to reveal Merlin, alive and whole, walking toward them with a smile on his face.
"Merlin!" Elyan said, the joy in his voice echoed in the faces of his companions.
There were hugs all around, and then Merlin turned to Arthur. He figured about five strides separated him from his husband.
Arthur made it in three.
He got an arm around Merlin's waist and a hand at the back of his head, holding him tightly as he kissed him. Merlin's had fingers in the short hair at the back of his neck and a hand pressing between his shoulder blades, and Arthur could feel his smile as he returned the kiss, their mouths moving in tandem.
"Worried about me?" Merlin whispered against his mouth.
Arthur grinned. "No."
Merlin laughed and kissed him again.
Since this was the first time they had shown open romantic affection in front of anyone, the knights behaved accordingly.
That is, Elyan pretended to gag, Percival whistled, Leon told them to behave like adults, Gwaine made a rude hand gesture and Lancelot gave an exaggerated 'aww'.
Arthur gave them all the middle finger.
It was a dark day in Camelot.
Merlin stared at the flames of the funeral pyre, empty save for the remnants of Lancelot's armor. There wasn't even a proper body to bury him in.
Guinevere tried to be quiet but she cried so hard her eyes became too puffy to see through, and Arthur had to hold her throughout the funeral ceremony. Merlin could hear her hiccuping into Arthur's chest, using his red cape as a handkerchief to blow her nose on. Arthur, to his infinite credit, simply hugged her and gazed stoically at the fire.
Lancelot was gone.
Yes, he had been a knight. Yes, he had been Gwen's love and perhaps her husband if fate had been kinder. Yes, he had been the noblest, most honorable man anyone had ever known. But more than that, he had been Merlin's friend.
He had known about Merlin's magic—the only one besides Gaius. It had been such a relief to fight by Arthur's side with Lancelot there, knowing that he could depend upon Lancelot to help him, knowing there was one person he didn't have to hide from.
Lancelot had been the one who encouraged Merlin to go after Arthur. Gwen had been far from keen on the idea at first, not having the highest opinion of Arthur, but Lancelot had insisted.
"He likes you back," Lancelot would tell him, when Merlin was feeling down and like Arthur didn't even care if he lived or died and wondering why he had to fall in love with an arrogant, spoiled child. "He really cares for you, Merlin. You can see it in his eyes when he looks at you."
When Merlin and Arthur had teamed up to save Gwen and run into Lancelot again, Lancelot had leaned in and whispered, "He's looking at you again," or "It's only a matter of time, Merlin."
Nobody had been happier for Merlin when Arthur had finally made a move and kissed him.
Merlin remembered Lancelot's speech at the wedding.
"I do not know of two people more suited for each other," he had said, "because I do not know of two people who raised each other up, who bring out the best in each other, and who defend and fight for each other the way Arthur and Merlin do."
"Merlin," Arthur said.
Merlin blinked away his tears and realized that the fire had died. The funeral was over. He was the only one left.
"He was a true friend," he whispered. "He saved you."
"He saved you as well," Arthur pointed out. "And the only proper way to repay him is to live, and live with joy, as he would have wanted us to."
Yes, Merlin thought. That's what Lancelot would have wanted.
Because Lancelot was, quite possibly, the more pure-hearted person Merlin had ever known.