A/N: Saw a tumblr post about this trope and rainbowvamp's tags suggested shade!Lancelot escaping from Morgana and finding Merlin, even though he has no memory of him. And my muse went after it like a cat to catnip.
The Vilia know the two figures passing through the woods by their stream. One, they need no face to recognize, but remember the resonance of her magic from when it tore the veil between worlds. The second they have met, though he is not the same. The Vilia can sense the hollow void within the physical shell, the dark magic that resurrected him still swirling through his aura. Lancelot is no more. His shade trails behind the mistress that brought him back, no doubt for some vile purpose. The Vilia mourn his corrupted destiny.
No, the sisters whisper amongst themselves. They intervened once to preserve fate; they can do so again.
The burbling brook scintillates in the afternoon sun, catching Lancelot's eye. He slows his pace, pauses, and turns to look. Careful not to draw the attention of the witch, the Vilia beckon him closer with subtle susurrations. So freshly resurrected, his mind is pliable and he easily responds, walking to the edge of the stream and taking a knee at its edge. He dips a hand into the water to drink.
The Vilia cannot restore him but they know who can. The water glows faintly as they suffuse their magic into his skin. It is enough to break the control Morgana has over him, and they leave him with one all-encompassing thought. Merlin.
.o.0.o.
He knocks the woman out from behind. He can't say why he does it, can't even say who she is, but he feels a compulsion to get away. His thoughts are fleeting as he stumbles through the woods, and he often staggers to a stop and blinks numbly at surroundings he can't make sense of. Then that whisper pushes through the haze and propels him forward once more. He doesn't know where he's going. He doesn't know who he is.
He breaks from the forest into a meadow. A castle stands against the sky up ahead, red banners trailing through wispy clouds. There's a lone figure in the grass picking plants, and he knows him. He doesn't know how and he doesn't even know what he knows, only that something is there, something calling out to him.
The lanky young man looks up and freezes, and the two of them stare at each other for several long moments. Then the boy comes closer, expression rapidly shifting between disbelief, suspicion, grief, and desperate hope.
"Lancelot?" His voice cracks on the word- no, name?
The thought is as fleeting as all the others, but the voice triggers his own ability to find speech again.
"Merlin," he says.
The boy's eyes water. "Wh- how?" He drops his basket of herbs and closes the distance, only to pull up short at the last few feet, brows quirking in confusion. "Lancelot?"
He still doesn't know what that means. "I know you," he says instead. "I…I don't know anything else, but I know I know you."
Merlin falters. "Lancelot, what's going on?"
"I knew I had to find you," he goes on. He frowns, not remembering why. And while up until now he had felt nothing but numbness, now he feels a flicker of fear. "Help me."
"Okay, I will," Merlin says, tone careful like he's dealing with a wounded animal. "What's the last thing you remember?"
He tries to think. That memory is there, just inconsequential. "Walking out of the water. Following her. Then…" He shakes his head. "I knew I had to find you," he repeats earnestly, and he's starting to feel distressed because now that he's found Merlin he doesn't know what to do.
"Her who?" Merlin asks tensely.
The name rises up as though through sludge. "Morgana."
Merlin physically reels back. "Morgana brought you back," he breathes, and he sounds horrified.
"Yes. I…got away." He gives Merlin a beseeching look. "Please…help me." He looks around the area, feeling overwhelmingly lost.
Merlin finally closes the distance and takes his hands. He feels a tingle, and it tickles at the back of his mind, another something that's just out of conscious reach but he feels he recognizes it.
"You have magic," he says. "That's why they told me to find you."
Merlin's brows pinch together anxiously. "Who told you?"
"I don't know."
Merlin exhales heavily.
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't be," Merlin immediately says. "It's not your fault." He bites at his lower lip and looks around. "I can try something," he says and lifts one hand tentatively.
"I trust you." And it's the one thing he is certain of.
Merlin's expression twists with something like anguish, but he holds his palm up and utters strange words. His eyes flare amber as magic penetrates the air and flesh before it. It's warm and floods every crevice of this hollow being, effectively drowning him, but he's not afraid. Something deep inside him shrieks and snaps, and Lancelot feels himself getting slammed back into his own body with enough force that he's thrown to the ground. He gasps in a lungful of air like it's the first breath he's taken since rising from those dark waters. It sears his chest and leaves him choking. He should be writhing on the ground but he's only on his knees, his forehead pressed against a shoulder and arms up around his, propping him up. Everything is hot and cold simultaneously and his mind is a jumble of thoughts and feelings but he knows now. He knows everything.
"Merlin," he whispers shakily.
Merlin leans back, still holding him by the arms lest he topple. "Lancelot?" he asks warily.
Lancelot drops his forehead back down against Merlin's chest. "Thank you," he breathes. It's like he's woken from a nightmare.
Merlin tightens his hold on him, shifting from propping him up to fiercely embracing him. "It's really you."
He's utterly spent and can't even manage a nod, but Lancelot lets himself lean limply against his friend. "Thank you," he repeats in a reedy voice.
Merlin squeezes tighter. "We should get you back to the castle."
"Can we stay here for a minute?" he asks, still not lifting his head. He can smell horse and grass on Merlin's shirt and the wildflowers around them.
Merlin moves a hand up to cup the back of Lancelot's head. "Of course."
Lancelot keeps his eyes closed and just breathes.