A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

191. Chapter 193

Arthur Pendragon would never be able to understand why he thought going to see a traitor was a good idea, or why he would think going to see a traitor was going to put anything into perspective for him. Maybe Arthur had just wanted to see somebody that was in a worse off situation than himself, something that would have made him feel better about his predicament. Somebody that would fight against him, instead of just letting Arthur rant to his heart's content. If he knew anything about Lancelot, it was that the other man never took anything lying down. That he would give back to Arthur as good as he was getting. Such a small thing it seemed to be, but Arthur had craved the fight somewhere deep in his blood. He had been hoping for a fight, to feel the crunch of his own nose being broken if he managed to goad Lancelot into throwing the first punch. His penance for tormenting Merlin, for planning to…to rape him…should be painful and debasing. Getting beaten up by a peasant was the equivalent to the blond putting his sword to the ground and surrendering before his enemy. In terms of nobility, surrendering was often seen as a sign of weakness. In the eyes of his father, it would need to be something squashed from Arthur's system before it could take root. In Arthur's eyes…death by the traitor sounded like the one and only way to correct…everything.

Arthur shouldn't even be alive right now! If Merlin hadn't interrupted him all of those weeks ago, then he would have drunk his poisoned goblet and pass onto the next world without a fuss. He would have never discovered the truth about Merlin, his innocence and his bravery and his problems and everything else he had been blind too. But he also never would have been able to touch Merlin or his soft skin again, never would have had distasteful dreams that featured him in vulnerable positions, never would have sat on his floor with the golden chain he had been imagining in his head so clearly for months. He would have never been hit by how REAL everything was, never would have known how CLOSE he was to doing something he couldn't step away from. The entire time he'd been yelling at Lancelot, the entire time he had screamed about how much better he was at everything when compared to Arthur, that stupid collar had been in his mind. Threatening to send him over the edge, the mere idea of buckling it over Merlin's neck as if he was some kind of dog meant to be owned threatened to knock him into his knees, just knowing that Lancelot saw him for what he really was to Merlin made him want to scream until his throat was torn open with raw blood gushing free.

When it became clear that Lancelot wasn't going to throw the first punch, the prince wanted nothing more than to take matters into his own hand. To punch Lancelot's stupid face, desperate to prove the other man wasn't as innocent or as good as he portrayed himself to be, until he could feel his knuckles begin to break and crack beneath the blows. To roar into the open air that Lancelot was nothing more than a conman who had been using Merlin, to scream to nobody but the echoes of Merlin's voice slamming around in his skull that he's not the only one that failed him, to beg the phantom image of Merlin watching him as he beat his friend into a bloody pulp to forgive him for causing his trauma. But that same phantom image of Merlin standing somewhere behind Lancelot was the same reason he didn't, the mournful blue of Merlin's eyes stalling him right where he stood. Merlin was literally haunting him, his ghost following him until he finally managed to get things right…he never should have came down here and started shit with Lancelot. It was messing with his head, MERLIN messed with his head.

But that was exactly why Arthur had to come down here and see Lancelot, just for himself. He had to see the man that would've never dreamed of demeaning Merlin by sliding a fucking collar over his dark curls. He needed to see the man that would have never gone out of his way to have specialty chains made with the hopes of slapping them onto Merlin's scrawny wrists. He had to look him in the eye, the man that had done more for Arthur's consort in the last week than Arthur had in four months. He had to see Lancelot, and find an understanding with the commoner. Arthur must have been stupid for coming down here, and he must have been even stupider seeing what he knew he was seeing staring back at him in Lancelot's dark eyes. The man was a traitor, and in accords with the laws of Camelot, that demanded him to be executed. But all Arthur is able to see is…the warrior inside of the commoner. The fighter that refused to allow Arthur to knock him down with words or other sources. The strength of a man ready for battle…almost like this mirror image that Arthur knew could be seen reflecting in his own eyes.

So different they were, yet so similar that it was terrifying.

The ghost of Merlin stood behind Lancelot like a warning, silently telling Arthur to tread carefully, to make his decisions with a clear mind instead of letting his anger rule him once again. Having a clear mind hadn't seemed possible at the time, but the ghost of Merlin had decided that was the moment to vanish, and left him all alone with just Lancelot to watch his freak out. Ironically, it was the being left alone to deal with his own problems that had forced Arthur to take a much needed breath, and to finally start looking at the other man the way that he thought Merlin would look at him. A new perspective, a new mindset, a new life entirely, but Arthur figured that last one was too much for him to have the gall to ask for. But what wasn't too much…was finally admitting Lancelot had the spirit of a knight inside of him. Something that many of his actual knights severely lacked, and something Arthur had always been subconsciously trying to find with each new crop of knights that showed up on his doorstep.

How could he have found that spirit inside of a commoner?

It sounded like a bad joke

For as long as Arthur could remember, every knight he had ever seen came to him from highly recommended families. Families that had pledged their loyalty to the crown long before Arthur had been born, and carried their duty always by volunteering their first born son to join the ranks of their army. It was such a great honor, but it was also no secret that Arthur was finding it much harder to get acceptable trainees into his program. It often felt like the time of warriors were starting to fade with each new generation that came to Arthur, each one growing more lazier and complicit than the ones that came before them. Only every now and then, probably once in a year's class, did Arthur take a second look at someone and decided whether or not they had what it took to become one of the greats. Arthur had been blinded with his rage and his jealousy, and it had refused to let him see what had been in front of him all this time. Having true born fighters come to him just didn't happen anymore, and Arthur did not know if it was because of those being sent to him, or if it was because Arthur no longer felt the spark he had once felt when he first started training his men.

"Merlin's right then, and perhaps you should start welcoming his opinion with opened arms instead of fighting him when it doesn't agree with your narrative or pre-convinced notions. I…I can hardly begin to understand what he's seen in me, or why he trusts me so much when he hardly knows me, but…the bond between us is real. He might not be able to wield a sword, but he doesn't have to when I'm willing to do it for him. Merlin's way of…seeing into the hearts that come into his life seems to be the real skill here." Lancelot spoke with this odd self-assurance that Arthur couldn't say he had ever felt for himself. It was way more painful than it should be, hearing about the bond shared between these two commoners, but Arthur kept a lid on the temper. He was too weary to start a pointless fight. Even as he was left questioning…what Merlin might see in his heart. Merlin's judge of character was not to be questioned, so had the prince been a bad person right from the start? Their first meeting had been chock full of conflict and tension, Merlin's presence ensnarling Arthur's mind before their truth came out. "Which brings me to another matter…the creature that tried to attack the kingdom? What happened to it? Were you able to fight against it, or is it really as strong as I remember it being? I…I dare say that it didn't go well if you came seeking me out after all the trouble that I've caused."

This was probably the moment Arthur should have turned and walked away, he should have cleaned his hands of Lancelot the second he started trying to ask questions about what had occurred outside. Arthur had came down here only for one reason, and while it hadn't worked like he planned, he didn't have any reason to stay down here and discuss matters of state with a traitor. This kind of information should have been shared only among the knights, with those of his men who hadn't already lied to him and abused what tentative trust he had been putting in him. The man had already offered up his own sword in defense of his consort, another reason Arthur should leave considering it was meant to be only him who protected Merlin from threats seeking to hurt him. But Arthur was weary, and Merlin had already shown displeasure with him protecting him once already today. And perhaps it was wrong of him, but…Lancelot was a man that was willing to stand and fight even when the odds were against him. Now he had his father's voice in his head, screaming at him to put this commoner in his place and then leave him to his fate, screaming at him to do what his father would have done if Lancelot had humiliated him in front of the entire kingdom with his little impersonating attempt. But Merlin had placed his trust within this common man, Merlin had put everything on the line for this common man…how was Arthur supposed to know which path to follow? The screeching voice that came from his father, leading him like a goat following a carrot tied to a stick in front of it. Or the subtle Merlin who was being drowned out in the background, the voice of the man that had already given up on him.

"The creature took flight, it headed straight into the woods and there isn't any telling when it will strike next. Which is why Camelot is planning to launch out a counter strike before it has the chance to risk the lives of the civilians here in the city. But I fear that we aren't going to be any match for it, it took out more than thirty of our best warriors within minutes." Arthur confessed, sweat filling up his palms as his pulse fluttered rapidly in his neck. He was terrified that his father was going to burst into the room at any moment, like a monster coming out of the shadows to rip them apart. It had been one thing when Arthur spent his time screaming at Lancelot, he could have gotten away with saying that he was just reminding the commoner about his place. But now he was starting to divulge things that he shouldn't, and Arthur cast a cautious glimpse just over his shoulder to make sure the guard hadn't returned. It word of this got back to his father…then Arthur wouldn't need to march into battle to have his life be ended. His father would finish him off long before the beast had any chance to taste his flesh and blood. "This…this creature…you were right when you tried to warn me about it all those things ago. I…underestimated the kind of beast that it is, and I won't make that mistake again. But…there was nothing that any of my men could do. It wasn't able to be killed. I have never fought against any creature that couldn't be taken down by my sword."

Arthur allowed the chill of those words to creep around his spine, the ice doing its damn hardest to choke him up in the throat. He could still hear the roar that echoed loud enough for it to feel like his eardrums were trying to burst. Arthur still felt the heat of the flames on his skin as he swung his torch with all of the might he had, having no idea if he would succeed in scaring it off. Still felt the fear coursing through every nerve ending in his body as he ran as faster than he thought he could in a desperate bid to get Merlin out of the way before the creature could take him out instead. The destruction of Camelot scattered all around him, his consort's limp body in his arms before he finally came too had been the scariest moments of his life. The image of his spear snapping in two reminding him that he was no match in a fight against this thing. It was far too big, far more stronger, and way more powerful than Arthur and his pitifully tiny human body could manage to match.

"Yes, a sword is going to be virtually useless to take into battle if the creature is going to be your opponent. When it broke my sword during my battle with it earlier this week…I had half been hoping it was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. That the adrenaline caused me to see things that didn't really happen." Lancelot shook his head, his face clearly saying he was remembering back to that day…the day he had met Arthur's consort and pulled him from the fire. Arthur tried to swallow past the lump of ice that had started a slow creep into his windpipe…the only weapon he had to bring with him to battle was only his sword. He wasn't going to go with nothing, but if what everybody had told him and everything he had seen held any merit to it…Arthur may as well have been stabbing it with a toothpick. "I did spend many nights while I drifted off to sleep wondering whether or not it got out as unscathed as it looked like it had. Taking your men out there to do battle with it…it isn't going to be taken down by sheer force. There's got to be a smarter way to destroy it, a weakness of some kind, something that won't be leading your men into a slaughter."

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, gazing down at the floor now that even Lancelot thought marching out into battle was a stupid way to go about it. He did want to play this smart…Arthur didn't want to die. He didn't want to watch as the men around him laid down their lives for something he already was well aware of becoming a mission failure. But…if Gaius had actually been telling the truth, then there was only one possible way to get out of this. But what he had said, what he had brought up before Arthur's father…it made Arthur's heart go stuttering at the idea of it. It was such a forbidden concept to Arthur, so very far out of the realm of possibilities that it shouldn't even be on the game board at all. Arthur wouldn't even dare bring up the idea to the men he'd be bringing out to fight with him, but…Lancelot wasn't coming out with him, was he?

"Merlin…he gave a description of the beast many days ago to his uncle so that he could figure out what kind of creature we were dealing with here. And Gaius is confident that he's managed to figure out what has been plaguing our land lately. And with his findings, Gaius believes that he has discovered what would be its true weakness." Arthur said, overly cautious as he chose his words very carefully, watching as Lancelot's eyes lit up with hope at what news Arthur had brought him. Arthur still hesitated, fearful about what he was about to say. He was almost terrified that some demonic creature from the pits of hell would be coming up from the floor to try and swallow his soul whole. Whatever little soul Arthur might still be carrying after the…horrid things he had done in his short years. "He called this creature a…griffin, which basically means it is a winged beast. According to him, it's an ancient creature that hasn't been seen in such a long time, that most people believe it to be mythic. In fact, according to our resident physician, the griffin itself is a creature that was created with magic, and so only magic is able to destroy it."

Arthur saw the exact moment that Lancelot realized how terrible this kind of news was…Magic was the one topic that was meant to be unspoken. And the prince felt as if he had just seriously suggested using it, even if he had done no such thing. And even if Arthur was opened to the possibility…he knew that he was treading on crumbling ground here…it wasn't like he knew any magic users. His father had wiped them out of the city, and if any still remained, he already knew that none would step forward to do this part in aiding toward the safety of Camelot. Besides…magic corrupted the soul and wretched apart the person's spirit each time it was used, as his father had told him so many times before. If somebody capable of using magic stepped up, then…just how could Arthur ask a man to ruin themselves like that. How could Arthur watch while he stood afar, ready with shackles to take whoever the unfortunate sorcerer was to the jail cells to await their own execution. Magic was…it was just simply out of the question. There was no going around that, no changing it, no trying to convince his father it might be their only chance. Once Arthur even opened up that door…there would be no going back. And Arthur was too scared to even knock on said door, yet alone see what may be resting on the other side of it.

"Do you believe that?"

It seemed as if Lancelot had already realized Arthur shouldn't have brought it up, because he had lowered his voice down to a whisper. But the question had brought Arthur up short…did he believe it? Did Arthur believe MAGIC was the one thing they needed to bring this griffin down onto its knees? Arthur looked down at the ground, his eyes wavering with uncertainty. He'd been taught his entire life to fear magic, and that it should be stomped into the ground before it had the chance to flourish. Arthur had seen several times already the danger that came from magic. But then he had seen other things…that glowing ball of light that had guided Arthur out of the caves last month burned brightly inside his mind, as if he had seen it five minutes ago instead of over a month. Arthur could still feel the way the light of it had graced his skin, the gentleness calling out to him…Arthur owed the sorcerer who conjured it his consort's life. It's not a debt he took lightly, even if he had already accepted his odds of finding out who it had been was next to nothing.

"I don't believe it matters very much what I think on the subject matter. There is no sorcerer within the boarders of the kingdom that would be willing to step forward, they know full well that magic isn't permitted and they'll be trialed for using it if they tried coming to our aid." Arthur said briskly, turning away from the other man so that Lancelot wouldn't see the conflicted expression burning on his face. He couldn't help but think about the one that had helped him that last time, when he had needed it most…the cave Arthur had been in was still in Camelot territory. Which means there WAS a sorcerer out there, somewhere in the kingdom, that had already broken the law once and managed to get away with it. But this person, this mystery man or woman, was probably miles away from Camelot already, they had probably made a break for the boarder as soon as Arthur cleared the top of the cavern. Whoever they were…Camelot was not their responsibility, and Arthur couldn't rely on another miracle to happen. He shouldn't even be relying on magical interference at all. "My father believes all we need to win the fight, and prevail, is by arming the knights with sinew and steel. Those two things have won us many battles in the past, it's only right it should win us this one as well."

But even as Arthur said this, he knew he was only deluding himself. Steel was only going to get them so far, and considering their opponent…it would only be getting them to the creature. Once they were there though, they would be laid out across the ground in tatters. Arthur squeezed his eyes as tight as he could get them to go, his body giving a weak shudder, Merlin's voice shrieking in his eardrums once again…SUICIDE! THIS IS SUICIDE! IT'S EASY FOR THE KING TO SAY YOU'LL WIN! HE'S NOT THE ONE THAT'S GONNA BE OUT THERE ON THE BATTLEFIELD! The tension drew Arthur's face into tight lines, god, Merlin was right even on Arthur's death bed. Merlin was bloody right! And yet, Arthur was still going to follow his father's instructions? What else could he do! Facing his father after telling him no, was almost as dangerous as facing this creature in the woods.

"Arthur…"

Lancelot's voice was hesitant behind him, as if he already knew what Arthur's thinking, but Arthur knew that this was impossible. Some thoughts were privy only to Arthur. Lancelot would never know of Arthur's distress going forward, he would never know how desperate Arthur was to see another morning with an entire day to look forward too because it was another day closer to earning Merlin's forgiveness, would never know how many questions Arthur had about what he had seen in the caves that day or what it all meant for him. He wasn't going to know none of this. Just like he wasn't going to be executed after the prince made his valiant stand in the forests outside Camelot city. Arthur forced a swallow down his throat before steadying himself and turning back around to face the former warrior.

"I'll be leaving within the hour, and when I do, I'll make sure there is an extra horse waiting for you to ride down in the stables. I'll make sure those working in the stables won't try and stop you from taking the horse I've chosen for you to ride." Arthur said briskly, bringing his hands up to rest on either side of his hips. He already knew his father was going to kill him for just giving away one of their prized steeds, especially to a peasant who couldn't possibly know how to ride her the proper way. But the way Arthur figured it, he was already going to be too dead by the time his father figured it out for his father to do anything to him regarding the matter. Lancelot's eyes widened, looking at Arthur with a bit of wonder in his eyes…he probably never expected to see anything outside this cell again. He wasn't SUPPOSED to see anything outside of these four cell walls again. "When you get to this horse though, I fully expect for you to ride it away from Camelot as far as you are able too. I want you to keep going, and do not look back no matter how much you might be tempted to do so. All I will ask is for you to never return to this land, unless you want your freedom to be took the second you step foot inside the city."

Arthur hadn't planned on releasing Lancelot from his prison when he had came down here, he had fully been expecting to leave the other man to whatever his fate was going to be in the upcoming days. He hadn't even planned on letting the other man go until about five minutes ago, when he realized he wasn't able to leave the man behind. Even when Arthur had been yelling at him with all the righteous fury of a man scorned by heartache and devastation, the other man hadn't buckled. He had stood strong under the force of Arthur's rage, and had even offered his own advice despite it not being his place. He was nothing but a common man, and yet…Arthur was braver than many of the knights that were riding with him tonight. Merlin was probably going to be upset after he learned of Arthur's orders, but…there was nothing Arthur could do about this. It would be the last thing Arthur ever did, it would be a defiance against what his father wanted from Lancelot.

"No, no, no, no. Arthur, I know that our differences have been vast and strong ever since my arrival, but I cannot be expected to sit back knowing that there is a fight where you could use a man of my skillset. I…it's not my freedom that I'm seeking here. I simply want to serve with honor. I want to go into this fight with your consort's name on my lips, knowing that I'm protecting him and the place where he lives…where my Guinevere lives." Lancelot spoke, stepping up so that he and Arthur could be eye to eye with the other, nothing but the god honest truth spilling forward from Lancelot's lips. And looking deep into that man's eyes…Arthur understood the truth when he saw it. This…this had to be the real reason for why Arthur was allowing Lancelot to walk. He had gone and broken their most ancient of laws, yes, and had treaded upon the very rules he and his ancestors had built this kingdom on. But Lancelot didn't deserve to die just because he wished to serve, when there were laws that said he should not even be allowed to pick up a blade. Arthur could think of dozens of men off of the top of his head that deserved to have their head placed on the chopping block, and ironically…Lancelot was one name that shouldn't be marked for the ax. "Please, let me ride with you into battle and do what I came to this city to do. I simply need a sword and armor, and I can prove myself to be a knight that is worthy of standing guard over this kingdom. That is worthy of standing right behind your consort, and keeping him safe from threats that mean to cast him with harm."

Arthur bit down on his bottom lip, and for a serious second there, he honestly considered the idea. He imagined riding on his horse into battle, with Lancelot situated directly at his right hand where the second of command would ride to take control should Arthur fall. He imagined what his men would say when the 'traitor' rode among them with a sword in one hand and a shield situated in the other. What his father would say should the impossible happened and they got to return to the kingdom with victory roaring in their blood. It was a ridiculous idea, one that Arthur knew he shouldn't entertain for even a moment. Handing a peasant a blade and expecting him to know how to use it…before this week and before he had seen what Lancelot could do, Arthur would have said such a thing could not be possible. Peasants and weaponry simply didn't mix with the other. They weren't meant to carry weapons meant to kill. They were meant to carry pitchforks and shovels and other tools meant to be used for farming the land. But that wasn't Lancelot…perhaps Lancelot was meant for great things in his future. But the simple truth of the matter was clear…whatever destiny had coming for the former warrior, it wasn't going to be in Camelot.

"You know as well as I do that this won't be allowed. My own father is unaware of me doing this, I'm releasing you sorely on my own. I suggest that you take it instead of turning your nose up at what I am offering you. Not many have been given a chance to leave these cells once they are placed in it." Arthur said with as much confidence as he could manage. He had to put a lockdown on himself before he did something stupid, like offering the former knight a place directly at his side. His father would have scoffed at the idea of a peasant joining them in the fight, but Arthur had seen Lancelot's skills for himself, and knew that he was no joke. Lancelot was a deadly force all on his own, with or without having a blade in his hand. "I…you will need to leave as far as you can. I do not believe it will be safe for you to stop long enough to say goodbye to Merlin. You won't even be able to say goodbye to Gwen, not if you hope to make it out the gates before any of my men recognize you for who you are and try bringing you right back here."

Lancelot was eyeing him with a stricken expression on his face, and though he kept his expression as blank as a royal should when delivering orders, he was sure he was feeling the same grief Lancelot was feeling on the inside. Pounds and pounds of grief crashing into his heart, body, and soul. The idea of NEVER seeing Merlin again, the idea of DYING before things could be set to right with the two of them…it was unthinkable. Hell, it was even unthinkable for Arthur to still believe they could have a chance at moving past everything he had tried to do to Merlin. After seeing the golden chains and the collars and the far too many clips that were meant to hold Merlin into place, it had finally hit hard for Arthur. How completely far out of his league he was. Here Arthur was, trying to play a small game of tempt the Merlin into forgiveness, not realizing Merlin had already dismissed him as a lost cause. And that was exactly what Arthur really was…nothing but a lost cause. Good for nothing more than becoming a snack to some creature that shouldn't even be walking the earth.

"But…but Arthur, what about your father? What if the king decides he has to come and see me tonight only to discover that my cell is empty? What if that guard or somebody decides to inform the king before either you or I manage to escape." Lancelot exclaimed, a tinge of desperation ebbing into the color of his eyes as he tried to talk Arthur out of his very generous offer…the last thing he would ever be able to do for Merlin and Lancelot both. The prince raised an eyebrow, he knew that Lancelot wanted to ride out to battle with him, but him going so far as to try talking his way into staying in this cell seemed to be over the top. If Lancelot stayed, then his inevitable punishment would happen soon enough. But if he went, he at least had a chance of making it to freedom. "Will your father not turn to Merlin, I mean, once the both of us are…gone. Merlin is the only one left that knows…the details of how I ended up arrested to begin with. Uther still wants me to tell him who I had make my forgery. The consort is …innocent, but Uther will surely turn his attention onto him. And who will have a chance at directing the king's energy away from him. I can't just LEAVE even if I wanted to!"

Arthur opened his mouth to give a sharp retort to this, because there's not any TIME for them to sit here and fight over whether or not Lancelot should take a chance on freedom, when he stopped and paused. Because Lancelot actually had a point about this. Lancelot's crimes wouldn't just go away and disappear simply because Lancelot himself did. Uther would still want to know how this man managed to fool all of Camelot, in order to prevent it from happening over and over again by others. With Arthur slain by the beast, and Lancelot running through the forests to places Uther wouldn't be able to follow…where exactly did that leave Merlin? Alone and undefended, weak to Uther's more powerful demeanor and 'strike first' attitude. This was another whole issue that Arthur felt he would simply have to hope for the best on, though Arthur wanted to fall to the floor at the mere idea of leaving Merlin's uncertain future up to chance.

"Whatever happened with this forgery…however you got it and however it was made, it obviously needs to be kept to ourselves. Whether you manage to find your way out of Camelot or not, I do believe that is one secret that will need to be taken to our graves. Such information is dangerous, especially if my father does discover the truth behind it." Arthur said slowly, very much aware that he was starting to speak in code. Careful not to mention Merlin's name attached to the excellent forgery he had made simply because of how many walls grew ears whenever there was something worthwhile hiding. Arthur was going to be damned if Merlin ended up jailed because of his strange skill, or exploited due to these skills by Uther. It took Lancelot a minute to catch onto what he'd been trying to say, because his eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. Arthur frowned …did Lancelot really think Arthur wouldn't have known? Did he think him to be so obtuse that he couldn't figure out Merlin's hand in this? HOW he had done it wasn't something Arthur was privy too, but the act itself…Arthur knew Merlin far better than what Lancelot thought he did. "There is only…one question I do have in mind though. Something that I believe only YOU can answer…why have you not mention the truth behind it to my father? Surely there are things you'll wish to experience in the future, and my father did offer to released the name of the one who helped you. Knighthood would've been out, but you could have started over elsewhere. Maybe even convinced Gwen to go with you if she has strong enough feelings for you. So…why risk that when all my father asked was for a simple name."

It was something that Arthur didn't know was bothering him until he stopped to ask Lancelot right now. Most people would have taken the deal Uther gave and ran as far with it as their legs could carry them. Most wouldn't have given a second thought to divulging every last detail the king wanted to know if only to secure a better future for themselves. Arthur had seen seasoned knights of the highest caliber completely shatter in front of his imposing father when the king went after them for one infraction or another. Arthur's mind was trying to tell him all about how a common boy could not possibly have the strength nor the willpower to take whatever Uther threw at them, especially not for crimes done by somebody else. But Arthur's mind warred with his heart…Lancelot's already done plenty of impressive feats since coming here, even if the prince had been dead-set on brushing them away before tonight. But surely whatever strong emotions or ties Lancelot believed held him to Merlin…surely they were not so strong he had seriously bet his life on keeping this secret. Surely at one point or another, when the reality hit a day or two from now, Lancelot would've spilt the beans in order to save himself.

Arthur somehow doubted Lancelot would ever come to that.

"…The same reason you yourself is riding out into battle tonight, sire. Because somebody…truly special stuck their neck out for you time and time again, and this is the very least we can do to return the favor for the sacrifices they made for us." Lancelot answered slowly, keeping up with Arthur's trend to keep the consort's actual name out of their conversation. Lancelot practically bared his eyes into Arthur's interjecting every bit of sincerity he possessed in his larger body. "If I can put my life down for this, then I know that I am doing the right thing with this person in mind. Even if I face my execution in the next coming days, I'll rest easy knowing this person won't be punished for reaching out his hand to me when nobody else would've. I fear if I leave now, if I walk out of the door and take your horse and ride out those gates, then…I won't be anything but a coward who left this person to take on the burdens I gave to him. That is a shame I would carry my entire life…it's a shame I'm not willing to carry."

Arthur's breath caught somewhere in his throat, his eyes wavering in-between the brown orbs Lancelot called his eyes, but he seemed to be as sincere as his voice suggested he was. It was a wonder…the way he and Lancelot had started out on completely opposite sides of the spectrum, each carrying hatred inside their hearts for the other. Hell, maybe the two of them were still standing right on the edge of something, their hatred settled but still remaining somewhere beneath their souls. But for a single second, between one beat of his heart to the next, Arthur felt something different when he looked at the man known as a traitor among his people. Arthur saw…a kindred spirit. Somebody that would not allow personal grudges or problems get in the way of protecting the only person in the entire world who could have brought Arthur and Lancelot under the same roof. It was something else Arthur knew he needed to be thankful to Merlin for. If Merlin hadn't stepped so far out of his lane, if he hadn't brought Lancelot to Arthur's attention, then…then maybe Arthur would lived his entire life never knowing it was possible for a peasant to hold the honor he thought only a knight could carry.

"…You know, with the tension that's been brewing between us ever since my consort introduced the two of, I just now seem to realize something's escaped my notice. I…I never got to thank you, not properly at least, for the assistance you've shown him. Merlin is a member of the Royal Family, and whether it was something you know or not when you saved his life in the woods that day, you should at least be acknowledged for your deeds." Arthur said quietly, with his heart squeezing in his chest so tightly that it felt almost painful. He saw when Lancelot opened his mouth, no doubt continuing to be noble by saying he did not want to be acknowledged, but Arthur shook his head to quiet him. Arthur had been so…so jealous, when he heard Merlin bragging on the man that had saved his life. So furious about Merlin relying on somebody Arthur had never met before on keeping his heart beating and his blood where it should be. But Arthur felt as if he should be the one to get down on his hands and knees just to thank Lancelot. Thank him for bringing Merlin back to him in one piece. And thank him for spending all this time looking out for Merlin when Arthur's been unable too. Thank him for…being a loyal friend to Merlin, when Arthur couldn't even be a steady husband. Arthur shook his head bitterly, "I don't…a man that saves the life of a royal should be rewarded for his service and praised for his bravery. He shouldn't be condemned for actions he took later on. If you were anybody else, you probably would have had an entire banquet planned in your honor. Although it might not amount to much considering our history…you do have…my eternal thanks for what you've done for me and mine."

Giving Lancelot his thanks should have been the hardest thing Arthur's done with the other man. It was placing Arthur in a weak and vulnerable position in front of somebody beneath him. Princes were not allowed to be weak, princes were not allowed to show vulnerability in front of their inferiors. But it wasn't feeling like that in front of Lancelot. The other man had already seen Arthur at his worse, or at least almost at his worse, where he was literally foaming in the mouth and trying to beat him to death. If Lancelot could still look Arthur in the eye after that, then…he probably deserved more from Arthur than just a simple thanks. Hell, he deserved more from Arthur anyway. Other than Merlin himself, the man in front of him now was probably the one he had wronged the most in his anger. Arthur wished he could do more, but for now….his thanks happened to be the only thing he could offer up. He couldn't give the man gold as some sort of reward, he couldn't even think of handing him over his knighthood, and it was just occurring to Arthur how very little power he had considering all that he was supposed to have at his disposal.

"The only thing I wish is to be allowed to ride with you into battle, prove I am still a warrior despite my heritage that'll condemn me."

Arthur's lips thinned so tightly that they almost appeared white after the other warrior, for that is what Lancelot truly was even if he bore no title to back this claim up, tried to once again invite himself to something he wasn't allowed to partake in. It was, perhaps, the one thing Arthur couldn't give him. Fights like the one Arthur was preparing for were for…unfortunately…REAL knights. Ones that had the blue blood of nobles floating through their veins, and understood the true cost of what sacrifice meant. Lancelot probably understood the same as well but, as Arthur had learned, sometimes life just wasn't fair. And there's some moments where one simply needed to bite their tongue and accept the way life was. Arthur bowed his head so that his hair shadowed his eyes before he turned around, placing his back firmly to Lancelot, silently saying he wasn't going to risk the man's life on his already doomed mission.

"I've already shown you mercy once by allowing you to leave, Lancelot. There is simply nothing left that I can do for you. I suggest you take my offer before something happens and I'm forced to change my mind. As long as you ride on your horse, you can be out of Camelot's boarders come morning." Arthur said in a brisk tone, shoving every bit of emotion-grief, and sorrow, and apologetic towards Lancelot and Merlin both-he had as far down into his soul as he could get them. Things were a lot easier that way, when he didn't have to feel all of the weight of his mistakes baring down on his shoulders that felt too small for him to hold it properly. "Just take heed and be cautious, don't stop for any that may try to talk to you and keep your head down. I won't be able to help you if you cannot find your way out of the castle. And this will be the only chance to have. Fail getting away, and you're on your own."

Arthur kept his head facing the wall, almost as if he could get away with some kind of plausible deniability should the worse happens and his father was able to figure out what happened before Arthur left to confront his final battle. The guilt featuring in his chest was going to eat him alive, knowing that there was a connection of some sort formed by bloodshed and anger between himself and the other man that would go unfulfilled. He could feel the weight of Lancelot's heady stare on his back, and Arthur just knew Lancelot wanted to try and say something else again. But Arthur held strong by not looking back, while he had his heart hammering away inside of his chest, and every muscle inside of him grew tight with tension as he finally heard Lancelot making a move, heading to the cell doors. Arthur heard the other man when he stopped just outside of the doors, continued to feel his gaze on him for what felt like an eternity, and this was just something Arthur didn't know how to react too. Just like when he was with Merlin, Arthur was helpless to do anything that he thought was right. The prince already knew that NONE of this was right, but perhaps one day far from now, Lancelot would understand that Arthur had simply been trying to save his life by sending him away.

For Merlin's sake.

For Gwen's sake.

For Lancelot's sake.

Hell, even for Arthur's own sake.

"…Maybe there is hope for you yet, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur's eyes grew round and large, staring ahead at the wall ahead of him but not really seeing the wall in front of him. He could hear Lancelot heading down one of the side hallways, the sounds of his footsteps echoing when they faded the further and further away from him they got. But still, Arthur did nothing but stare at the wall in front of him, seeing but not seeing anything. The other man had spoken softly, his voice drifting through the air as if it had got caught on a breeze, leaving Arthur rather unsure if he had heard what he thought he heard at all. Hope was such a funny thing, after all. For everyday these last four or so months, Arthur had hoped something would happen and Merlin would be able to disappear from his life for good. And then it had really happened, and it had felt anything but good. It had been devastating, ripping Arthur apart right from the inside out, digging apart his organs until the guilt made a home behind his heart somewhere. And now, for the last few weeks, Arthur had done this sharp turn around, hoping beyond all hope that Merlin could see how open he'd be to changing his old ways. Hoping Merlin would see how much of an effort he was putting into this, hoping he would see how far Arthur was willing to do to make everything become how it should have been from the very start.

Arthur had been hoping for miracles.

But sometimes…sometimes the miracles didn't happen.

And sometimes, when a person like Arthur makes their bed…they just have to lie down in it and live with what they did.

Mess and all.

X

Merlin Pendragon would never be able to understand how everything had now turned into something completely different. He was supposed to be enjoying a very Arthur free life, maybe stretched out in the grass somewhere while trying to enjoy what bits of sunlight he could reach. Maybe he would have a book by his side, something to read during his peaceful hours away from the rest of his world. Maybe he would only have this book laid out across his chest when he opted to take a much needed nap in the shade. That was the kind of peace he just couldn't afford these days, Merlin wasn't sure if he had ever had days like that. He certainly couldn't take a moment just to breathe to himself, so why in the world would he have time for anything else? No. His time was clearly much better spent by flipping through his magical spell book to find something that was strong enough to take out a ten ton magical creature that already tried to eat his face off.

More than once.

Uncle Gaius was taking the lead on this one, flipping through page after page to find something that Merlin could cast. He would stop to take one look down at the inscription on the page before shaking his head with dissatisfaction and then continuing on. Merlin didn't know what his uncle was looking for, but not a single page seemed to meet his approval, and at this point, he couldn't have said whether or not Gaius already knew what he was looking for, or if he was going to decide when he came across something decent. Something powerful enough to do the job. Something…Merlin's fingertips rapped frantically against the outside of his thigh nervously. He didn't know what he had been thinking to agreeing to something as crazy as this. He was being stupid. It wasn't going to matter what spell Gaius found for him, there was no chance he could pull it off. The griffin was just too large, too powerful, too…much…for somebody that was as simple as Merlin. The biggest spell Merlin had ever used, as far as he'd been able to think of, was that time he created the wind tunnel that sparked a flame from Arthur's torch to get rid of the muck monster poisoning their water supply. And Merlin was pretty sure that wasn't anything more than a little party trick, something any amateur wizard could do. It certainly wasn't going to be a big help against what he was facing now…

"Here!"

Gaius suddenly exclaimed, finally stopping on a page somewhere in the middle of the spell book, and Merlin flinched violently. He had been working himself in a spiral of panic, becoming lost in his head and neglecting to see Gaius stop to take a second look at whatever he was looking at. If Gaius noticed anything off about Merlin, he didn't say anything as he turned the book around so that he'd be able to read what was on the page proper. Merlin's heart heaped straight to his throat as he leaned in to look, reading the title of the spell that his elderly uncle was tapping on. His eyes rove across the page, taking in each letter and each brushstroke the quill that wrote it had made, searing the words inside his skull until it felt like the letters were trying to bounce their way off of the page itself. Maybe those letters were try beating in Merlin's skull, because his head felt as if he had just taken a club to it.

"I've…I've never done an enchantment this powerful."

Merlin's voice came out in a shaky murmur, his breath exhaling from his lungs so hard that it felt like his lungs were rattling around inside his chest. He read the inscription again and again, eyes lingering on words that were unfamiliar to him and words that made no sense no matter how much he stared. He traced over the little sketching on the bottom of the page that described what it was supposed to look like, but Merlin couldn't imagine doing something as big as this for himself. This…it wasn't something that was as simple as unlocking the door from the outside. This…it was going to take some major power, since the spell basically called for drawing the aura of energy from the air to form into a defensive weapon. Merlin hadn't even known something like that was possible to do…drawing energy from the air? It sounded like a bad joke, something that somebody wanted him to do even when they already knew he could do it.

"I know that this is more powerful than the other enchantments you've learned from this book, and perhaps it wouldn't be as daunting if you had more time to work your way up to it. But unfortunately, we don't have that kind of time. This is happening." Gaius spoke, sounding decidedly calm despite the seriousness of their situation. Which, Merlin supposed, it was easy for him to be so calm if he wasn't the one out there doing it, with every life within the city depending on him getting this right. Merlin doubted even years of practicing his craft and fine tuning it into an instrument under his control would've been enough time for him to do something like…THIS! It was unreal, this magic spell resting right in front of him. Gaius couldn't have chosen a more complicated spell for him to use…from what he was reading, it needed Merlin's precision to be CORRECT or it wasn't going to work like it should. Merlin was gonna have to all but beat his magic into a fine toothed comb for it to take the proper shape. "I don't believe that anything less than something like this would be strong enough to kill it off for good. Camelot needs somebody that can preform this spell, Arthur and his continued existence needs for you to complete this spell, even if he would be the last person to admit it. Even you, Merlin, have your own reasons for getting this spell under your command."

Merlin pushed his shoulders back, head shooting up to stare at the elder man confused…huh? Why did he think MERLIN needed to have this spell completed up? Merlin was the one that wanted absolutely nothing to do with this. He was the one that wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend everything was still going as fine and as dandy as it had been before this griffin had reared its ugly head and made itself known. He wanted too…Merlin stopped after seeing the obvious way that Gaius was looking at him and…oh. Merlin's lips formed a solid 'O' as he realized where Gaius had been going with that…Merlin needed to complete the spell because…because it meant that he was strong. It meant that Merlin, if he could manage to do this right, could literally do anything that he set his mind too. If he could manage to get the energy to shape however he wanted it to be, then he could overcome anything. Even overcome the traumas he had been forced to endure at Arthur's hand. It was a lot to put into one little spell, but…if he could do it, then Merlin would be all the better for it.

"Merlin…" Gaius started, calling out his name in a soft tone that had the young consort returning his gaze onto him. Gaius held onto his stare for the longest of times, and Merlin wondered if he could see how nervous Merlin was. If his wise old uncle could see how much Merlin was wavering on the spot, could tell how much Merlin was doubting himself, if he could see how scared Merlin was to fail once again. Gaius kept steady though, this relentless force that kept the consort's eyes light a lighthouse drawing a boat to the safety of its shores. "It isn't something that you know, but last month, when you drunk that poisoned goblet, my young nephew, and nearly died right here in my home…it shook me up far more than you know. I couldn't imagine a life in which you had brought so much joy into, suddenly being gone in the blink of an eye. It was a dark time for me, as I'm sure it was for you."

Merlin's breath caught somewhere in his throat, his heart starting to hammer a harsh rhythm in the pulse point in his neck. He wasn't sure why Gaius decided to choose 'now' of all times to bring up what had happened then. Choosing to do what he had, choosing to end it all…he understood now that his decisions affected not only himself but those around him. The ones that actually cared a bit for him, though Merlin always wondered why after the troubles he's caused in the past. But now didn't feel like the time for Gaius to bring up something so insanely personal. Unless…unless he thought Merlin wasn't going to return to him after this spell. What if Gaius didn't think Merlin was prepared enough to manage it? What if Gaius already KNEW Merlin couldn't possibly do something like this, and all of this was just Gaius' way of preparing to tell him goodbye…for good, this time.

"But anyway, the point that I'm trying to make is…when I didn't know whether or not you would live or die, I made myself a promise if you managed to come out of it. A promise that I haven't made much good on yet, but one that I fully intend to keep." Gaius continued on, and Merlin's brows furrowed together in the center of his forehead. A promise…what did that mean? What could Gaius have promised himself when he had been staring down at Merlin's prone body laid out across his bed? What kind of promise could Gaius have made when he had been fighting tooth and nail for a life he hadn't even known he wanted to continue living? And why was Merlin just hearing about this now? "…I promised myself that I would make you strong. Not only magically, but also emotionally as well. I never wanted you to feel as if you didn't have any other options than the one that would get you killed. I didn't want Arthur or Uther to ruin you as I fear they've ruined others, I KNOW that you can do this spell Merlin, because I know you are already far stronger than you think you are. And doing this spell with success is only going to show you as well. I believe in you."

Merlin blinked, and blinked again, and then even blinked some more as those words washed over him. He…he certainly didn't feel the strength that his uncle was so sure he carried within himself, definitely not at a time where his doubt was hitting him at an all time high. But…Gaius believed in him. And that had to mean something. Gaius wasn't the type to believe in folly or fool's hope, he's a man that saw what was in front of him and nothing else. Including Merlin. And …hadn't Merlin done a few things this last week that somebody strong would do? Hadn't Merlin jumped in front of Arthur before he could land a killing blow on Lancelot during their fight in the marketplace? Hadn't Merlin told the men assigned to keep him in his room to get out of his way, commanding them as if he was their leader in charge. Hadn't Merlin ran through an entire courtyard to save the citizens that had gotten caught in the crosshairs of Arthur's men and the griffin? Hadn't Merlin done all of that and more? But then…why did he have such a hard time trying to stop his knees from knocking together?

"All you need to do is believe in yourself now."

Merlin didn't know where Gaius had gotten it from, but in the next second, the aged physician was pressing the handle of a dagger into Merlin's hand. Merlin felt his stomach twisting and turning, as if his spleen was trying to have a fight with his stomach and liver and was losing big time. He looked down at the old blade, covered in so much rust and dirt that it was a miracle the thing had not fallen apart already. It probably wouldn't even be able to pierce the weak and fragile body of a human, yet alone a creature with as much magnitude as this griffin. But, Merlin supposed, it wasn't like he was going to use the thing to try and stab it. The dagger was nothing more than a conductor, something that's physical, something that Merlin could see so that the energy could form itself into its shape. Hopefully a shape that was longer and far more deadlier looking than the pitiful excuse for a blade he was holding right now.

Merlin's stomach still squirmed with disquiet unease. This was the first time he was holding a weapon of any kind, well…almost the first time. Merlin supposed the times he had handled Arthur's sword when preparing him for the tourney a few months ago counted as him holding a weapon. But there was something in handing a weapon over to somebody who knew how and was trained to use it like it should be used, compared to Merlin holding something that he was fully expected to use but didn't know one damn bit how too. But Gaius was looking at him still, giving him an encouraging nod to go ahead and try something out while they still had a little wiggle time to practice. Perhaps Merlin was giving in to peer pressure, but he obediently turned back to the book, his hand slick on the dagger's handle with his own nervous sweat to study the ancient words of the spell. He repeated them over and over and over again inside his mind until he felt comfortable enough to say them out loud. And then he prepared, letting his legs fall apart so he was planted more firmly in place just in case there was something that went INSANELY wrong that ended with him being blasted back on his back.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as they could go, until he felt it begin to hurt. Tightening and readjusting his grip around the unfamiliar handle of the blade, trying to become more comfortable with holding a weapon. And then he tried to connect with the power inside of him, easily finding that tiny bubble of golden warmth hidden somewhere behind his heart. That little bubble that had tiny golden veins stretching out, encircling around each and every vein, living inside of every drop of blood, so thin and fine that nobody would've been able to see the flicker of gold unless the light hit it at the right angle. It was there…it was always there. And he was the controller of it, the master and the welder and the one in charge. He could summon it, and draw it up to his will, and do what he will with it. Him…Merlin…sorcerer in training…Merlin could feel it start to rise up at his call. Could feel the glow of warmth flooding him until he was sure not a single spot on his body remained untouched. From the length of his hair, down to the tips of his fingers, and all the way towards his feet. One flood after the other, pulsing and pulsing and pulsing until Merlin felt as if he could be light itself. THIS was magic, something pure and warm and so good, leaving life in its wake wherever it went, spreading out to cover the world in its utter beauty. And when Merlin was sure he had overtaxed his magic, he plucked at a single cord of it with sharp abandonment, speaking the words loud and clear…he was going to do this! He was going to succeed, and make something out of himself, and make him uncle proud of him and…

"Bregdan anweald gafeluec."

It felt like an explosion had gone off inside of Merlin, fireworks popping off into every direction imaginable, taking control of each and every one of his senses till he was sure there was nothing left. And then…nothing. It was like there was something inside of Merlin that just…crackled…a strike of a lightning bolt that fizzled out before it managed to strike the ground. An arch of power formed in its entirely, but dying out due to the lack of proper direction. And Merlin found himself left standing in the abyss of that power, staring dumbfounded to where the blade rested in his hands. It looked completely normal. As if magic had not touched it, and perhaps the magic really hadn't touched it. Perhaps all of this has only been in Merlin's head, and he had gotten himself all worked up to do something he…simply couldn't do. Merlin wasn't sure who was actually more disappointed in him over his apparent failure…him or his uncle.

"Don't worry, Merlin. You've got plenty of time to make something work, it isn't too bad for a first attempt too. Nothing work getting done is ever easy enough for it to be done on the first try." Gaius said, clapping Merlin twice on top of his shoulder, though it did very little to inspire any actual hope within him. He had already tried it. He had tried it and NOTHING had happened. Merlin was SURE it didn't matter if he tried it one time, ten times, or a million times…he was NOT going to get this. But Gaius squeezed his shoulder tightly, "All you have to do is keep reminding yourself…you are a force stronger than nature itself. And the magic within you works to obey YOU, not the other way around. If you want to make it work, then…Make. It. Work."

Make it work…make it work…make it work, Merlin chanted like a mantra inside of his head as he turned his gaze back onto the rusty blade in his hand. It kept staring back at him, the light glittering off the bit of actual metal not covered by all the rust. Transforming itself into an enemy right before his eyes. Merlin could stare at the thing all day long, could continue working with those words of encouragement echoing in his eardrums. But Merlin already knew inside his heart or hearts…something like this wasn't going to work out. His uncle could believe in him all he wanted, the great dragon beneath the castle could go on and on about his great destiny, but none of those pretty words were going to make this blade come to life. None of these pretty words were going to create the power Merlin needed to push behind this spell to activate it. And none of those pretty words were going to get Merlin any closer to fixing everything.

He just wasn't powerful enough.

X

Guinevere hissed sharply, pulling her fingers away from the beige tablecloth she had been trying to embroider the edges of. It was a little project of hers that she had started working on to give it a bit more color, but the work had been slow going for a while now. Or perhaps it had only been going slow after today, the young handmaiden thought as she popped the tip of her finger into her mouth, beads of blood forming on the tip after she had stuck herself with the needle. Gwen wished she could say this was the first time she had stuck herself, she was a skilled seamstress after all, and should have moved past the level where she stuck herself every five minutes. But Gwen just imply wasn't into keeping her focus.

Truth be told, the young handmaiden had only been working on it because she had needed something to do with her night that didn't include staring down at her wall and trying to figure out what she could do to get Lancelot out from his cell. She had managed to get out of hers all those months ago, but…there was a big difference between what she had done and what Lancelot had done. On her case, Gwen had been accused of witchcraft and later proven innocent with this crime. But Lancelot had actually done what he was accused of, and then confessed in front of the entire court. She…it was either working herself until her fingers were gushing blood, or sit on her bed and cry herself until she had no more tears to cry. She had already done that when she first heart the news of Lancelot's arrest, and she had shed more tears of agony after her stint back in the cells, and…she just couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't cry knowing for a fact that it wasn't going to help accomplish anything.

The least she could do was work on this stupid fabric, and try not to think over her short lived romance. It was difficult though. Every time Gwen thought that she could congratulate herself for not thinking about Lancelot shivering in the cold of the cells, another thought would pop into her head until she realized he was still in her head. Flashes of Lancelot's dark hair would appear somewhere behind her eyelashes, hair she would never get to run her hands through. Dark chocolate brown eyes that always looked at her with a kind of tenderness that she had never experienced before, and made her heart speed up inside of her chest. His sweet voice and the way he spoke to her, treating her as if she was a lady worth his attention, and not just a simple serving girl. Lancelot had all of these aspirations to be better than he was, and yet…he hadn't tried what luck he might have on somebody more worthwhile. Somebody like Morgana, even…

Gwen's heart heaved somewhere in his chest, and she ducked her head to try and return to her work, squinting in the dark as the small candlelight she was trying to use didn't offer much. She went back to work, sticking the pin in one side of the cloth and out through the other, her eyes blurring with tears as she tried not to choke on a sob. God…how fair was it that she was getting so little time with Lancelot, when they had hardly even begun. She wanted to watch as he became something great, wanted to be the girl he looked for when he was in a tourney with the other knights, wanted to be the girl whose favor showed on his bicep. She wanted late night conversations, to feel safe with while his hand rested in hers, she wanted to even introduce him to her father and let her father know that she had found a good man who wanted her simply because she was herself. She wanted it ALL. Sure, maybe she had only known Lancelot for a week, but it didn't feel like that at all. It felt as if she had known him all of her life, this connection sparking between them stronger and more real than anything she had ever known in her short nineteen years on this earth.

And Lancelot even understood Gwen's loyalty to Merlin!

He even felt the same!

Perhaps somebody would tell Gwen she had her whole life laid out in front of her, and it wasn't going to end just because her first romance was destined to end with tragedy. But this was more than that, more than a simple infatuation that would wear off once Lancelot was no longer around. She FELT for him and she cried for him and she cared for him and she had even faced her trauma so she could see him one last time. NOTHING could compare to what she had felt for Lancelot. Even if by some grace of god she managed to find somebody for her, she was never going to be able to forget Lancelot. NEVER. He had set the standard for what she wanted in a man, he was her…he'd first love…and she's in her home crying herself half to death because of her. Feelings shouldn't be able to hurt this much, shouldn't feel as if they were trying to rip her down the middle…

Gwen's head snapped up from where she had started using the tablecloth as a tissue (she would have to clean it when she wasn't as stressed) when a knock came from her front door. Gwen frowned when everything went silent, before a more frantic knock came harder on the door making her jump up startled. She was home alone, her father had chosen to stay in his shop for a few hours later than he usually would to finish off a special sword he was trying to prefect, but nobody else should have been coming to her house at this late hour. She's half sure not even Merlin would be bothering her this late, not considering the pain they both must be dealing with right now. Unless…Gwen's heart leaped to her throat, there was only one reason she could think of that would have anybody showing up at her door so late at night.

Lancelot.

It had to be about Lancelot, it just had to be! Maybe something had happened to him, and now the guards were here to notify her! Maybe Uther had already gone and had him executed while she had been sitting here working on such a STUPID project. Maybe Lancelot's heart was no longer beating, and his eyes no longer seeing, and his strength no longer there…maybe her heart had been ripped out of her chest already, and she just hadn't known it yet. Maybe if the young handmaiden had been thinking more clearly, she would have realized it wasn't anything like this. She had no ties to Lancelot, not legally, as she wasn't his wife or next of kin. The guards would have had no obligation to inform her on the status of the prisoner in their care. But Gwen was already so worked up she could hardly see straight, her hands scrambling to unlock the door without bothering to ask who it was. A dangerous thing, considering she was a woman all alone, but Gwen didn't think twice of her own safety before she threw open her front door for whoever was on the other side.

Almost immediately, Gwen's breath hitched as her hand grew tight around the doorframe, enraptured by the sight in front of her. She had been expecting to see at least two guards, with their gleaming armor and a non-descriptive face that would've left her guessing whether or not she had seen them around the castle before. What she hadn't been expecting was to see the very same man she had just been thinking about, Lancelot, standing on her doorstep. She had her eyes roving over his frame before her mind registered who it was she was seeing, taking in the familiar dark hair and kind brown eyes and muscular form that made her feel positively tiny in comparison. Lancelot looked frantic, eyes wide with worry that would've had Gwen concerned if she wasn't so awestruck by her new reality. But it was him…it was really Lancelot. And all she wanted to do was reach out and touch him, brush her fingers against the lines of his tan cheekbone so she could feel for herself how real he was.

"Lancelot."

The name spilled from her lips without her permission, sounding so breathless that it would have been embarrassing in any other situation. But how else was she meant to react? She had thought the last time she had seen Lancelot was most likely going to be…the last time she ever saw him. She had thought he'd be left to rot in those cells until the king finally decided to do away with him as if he was nothing more than yesterday's trash. Had thought she was going to have to continue her life, knowing somebody as good and as brave and as kind as Lancelot was no longer roaming the earth. Seeing Lancelot standing in front of her now, it was akin to her seeing a dead man walking. Maybe even seeing a ghost of somebody she knew had already long since passed.

"Guinevere."

The sound of her name coming from his lips was like honey to her ears, as well as forcing her to snap out of her daze. Her name was the only confirmation to be needed, for Lancelot was the only man that ever called her 'Guinevere' as if it was something precious and not just a name. Gwen couldn't have contained herself if she tried, throwing all sense of self out the window as she practically threw herself at the other man. Lancelot released a startled breath of air into her ear, but he was strong enough to catch her, his arms wrapping firmly along her waist as her arms flung themselves around his shoulders, squeezing onto him with every bit of strength she could. If he wasn't as strong as he was, she probably would've knocked them both off her front porch and into the dirt.

"Lancelot! How on earth are you standing here right now! I thought for sure I'd be hearing about the executioner's platform being set out any minute now for you! I didn't expect…I didn't think…I just can't believe you are really here right now!" Gwen exclaimed, her voice turning into a mad ramble as she squeezed him even tighter. She could feel his muscular body pressed against hers, and could feel him burying his face into her hair to breathe her in just as she was doing, her face buried in the muscular planes of his chest. She was sure that they were causing a spectacle that any of her neighbors could see if any were looking out their window at that moment. But she didn't care. Why would she care when she felt…felt…felt free! For the first time in a long time, Gwen felt as if she was absolutely soaring! Soaring straight to the sky and whatever else is out there beyond, "But…how are you here? I don't understand? Did Uther just let you walk free? That doesn't sound like him though, I'm sure he didn't just let you leave on your own! What you were arrested for…only a day in the cells doesn't sound right!"

Gwen pulled herself away from Lancelot only slightly, enough so she was able to get a good look at his face while remaining within the circle of his arms. His face was just as she remembered it, every angle and arch and shadow, and far more beautiful than he had been in her memories. Even with that line of worry drawn tight between his brows that dampened what should have been the two of them sharing a happy reunion. Gwen frowned, her stomach twisting itself in nerves…this wasn't good. Whatever reason Lancelot had for coming straight to her door, it wasn't simply to tell her he had been released and now they could go back to…whatever the two of them had been doing before he had got taken to the cells. Gwen wasn't entirely sure what label she should use for what she had with Lancelot, but labels…they hardly mattered when there was obviously something clearly distressing him.

"No, Guinevere. Uther actually had nothing to do with my release, and in fact, he doesn't even know that I've been released. I pity the fool who's the one to tell him whenever he does start asking questions about my whereabouts. But don't fret, I'm not making a break for it. Arthur's the one to release me, though he's also given me several warnings about being seen before I get far enough away from the city." Lancelot hurried out in a brisk tone, pulling away from her some more so he could move his hands from her waistline and up towards her shoulders, squeezing them beneath his hands as he carefully scanned all their opened surroundings. Gwen's mouth opened and closed in bewilderment, not even sure where she should start asking questions, though Lancelot's entire focus seemed to continue being on the surrounding streets. "Come, please, in your house. I have work that needs to be done and I won't be carted right back to the cells before I've managed to do my part. I'll explain everything soon, we just need to get off the street."

Gwen was vaguely sure she was committing a crime here by harboring what felt like a fugitive situation, but she was too baffled to do any protesting when Lancelot led her back into the house. Though to be honest, she considered as she watched Lancelot firmly latch the door behind them and immediately turn to the windows to peek out of the shutters just to make sure there wasn't any guards jumping out of the woodwork, she didn't think she would've thought for a second against helping Lancelot in his hour of need. Even if she had the time to consider her actions and the consequences of them if he was caught in her home, she didn't think she could've sent him away. Not when she just got him back into his life, back into her arms, and back into her heart where she hoped he belonged.

"Maybe I've spoken too hasty, Guinevere. I wish I could stay here and tell you the entire time, I would much whether stay here and share with you everything that has happened since you last visited me in my cell. But I just don't think I'll be permitted too, not when I've got time working against me." Lancelot said in an urgent tone, dropping her shutters back into place and turning back around to face her. Gwen blinked, opening her mouth to protest…whatever was about to happen, she very much deserved to know about it! Lancelot couldn't just go and show up on her doorstep with absolutely no information, rambling on how ARTHUR had taken the time out of his day just to release him. That didn't even sound like the Arthur she knew! So what was he playing at? Was Lancelot bout to walk into some kind of trap the prince made that would get him in far more trouble that he already was? Why wasn't Lancelot answering any of her silent questions? Why wasn't he telling her anything! Why hadn't he yet tried to kiss her… "But I'm going to need everything that you're willing to spare me, but be warned, I'm part of something that is going to get ugly. Which means I'm going to need weapons, and armor, the best you've got if I have any hope of coming home to you with my life intact."

Coming home to you…Gwen's brown eyes grew wide as her heart fluttered like a baby bird inside her chest, wings going faster than an arrow flying from the drawstring of a bow. Lancelot wanted to come home to her, he was calling the handmaiden his home. He was…he was leaving her though…Gwen's world felt like the shattering of glass echoing all around her. That…that was why he was here. Not because he wanted to see her specifically, but because he knew that she would have everything he needed. Weapons for him to fight with against whatever enemy he was going after, armor to protect his human skin from any damages he might sustain. Damages that could include…being killed…Gwen's throat tightened up as a lump formed in her throat. What mission could he be possibly going on! Lancelot had literally just walked out of a jail cell! What was he supposed to be doing other than reuniting with people she THOUGHT that he cared about…people like her.

"But Lancelot…won't you at least tell me ANYTHING about what's happening right now? You can't just show up at my door and tell me Arthur, of all people, let you out and then give me nothing else. Why do you need weapons or armor if you aren't making a run for it? Are you making a run for it before the guards catch you, is that why you're in a hurry?" Gwen asked, rambling away with her desire to know ANYTHING about what was going on here. Gwen had been left out already when Lancelot had been arrested, having been told the news only because Morgana had told her. She had been left behind while Lancelot was in a cell rotting away for who knows how long until he ended up ripped right from her life for good. And now she was being left out again, this time by Lancelot himself. She just couldn't do it, not without a little more detail on why Lancelot was acting as if he was going off to war or something. "I haven't heard any one of the bells ringing, so I know that the city isn't under another attack. And I do know you wouldn't be asking me to give you my father's stuff if you need it but that brings me to the same question…what is going on."

Lancelot hesitated for a minute too long, and the line between Gwen's brows were starting to deepen…why was Lancelot behaving like this? Why would he be trying to keep secrets from her? When Gwen herself had never kept secrets from him, she had even told him about her trauma and he had accepted it with opened arms. So what could have happened that made Lancelot suddenly so hesitant around her, unless…Gwen released a loud gasp. Her eyes going wide as the fear entered her eyes…had something happened to Merlin? That would have to be the only reason Gwen could think of to explain Lancelot's suddenly odd behavior around her. Lancelot had only ever been frantic when something happened around Merlin, he had only drawn himself up to fight when Merlin's near him, and Merlin was probably the only person Lancelot would risk it all for by staying in Camelot instead of leaving while he still had a chance. All of this was making sense to her, clicking in her head like a puzzle box snapping right in place with a solid click. Gwen's insides twisted sharply, her first urge was to run and see for herself what had happened to her best friend while she'd been here mourning over a relationship that had barely kicked itself off the ground yet.

"Hey, hey, hey, no Gwen. I know exactly what you are thinking, I can practically see it in your eyes, but I swear to you, as far as I'm aware, there isn't anything wrong with the consort. As far as I'm aware, Merlin still lives and he's safe and well." Lancelot immediately said, stepping forward and dropping his hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze as if he was afraid he might break her if he pressed too hard. That was something Gwen loved about him, how he was always so aware of his strength around her and never tried using it against her. He was confronting her, taking the time out of his hurry just to ease all the horrors her troubled mind was telling her. He squeezed at her shoulders again before looking deeply into her eyes to impress onto Gwen the seriousness that he was dealing with, "It's Arthur that is standing in mortal peril. Whatever he's done in the past, whatever he's done to Merlin…I need to go out there to make sure he returns alive. Maybe the world would be a better place without Arthur in it, Merlin's life would definitely be better, but I have a duty to the Camelot's people. Whether or not they took my knighthood away from me, I cannot quell what my heart is telling me. I cannot watch men go into battle without bearing a sword myself to aid them."

Gwen stared up at Lancelot with a bit of wonder in her eyes…whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been that. To hear that Lancelot wanted to chase the prince into whatever doom he was going after, to bring him back despite what Arthur's done to their dearest and bestest of friends…it was aweinspiring. She herself would never wish any harm on Arthur, but she didn't think she would've felt much of anything should the worst happened to him. Did Arthur deserve to live so he could become their next king, or did he deserve to die for all of that pain he had dragged Merlin though…Gwen didn't think she had any right to say what Arthur deserved. It hadn't been her, he had been hurting for months after months, and it hadn't been her he had driven into the darkest parts life could offer somebody. But she had seen the damage, by god had she seen all of the damage Arthur had left behind in his wake. All those times she had to feed her best friend because he wasn't aware enough to lift the spoon herself, all those times she had to wipe the sweat off his face because he refused to get out his bed, even the times she had to help Gaius change his clothes for fresher ones because he couldn't lift Merlin on her arm. THIS was the type of man Lancelot was leaving to go save. THIS was the type of man Lancelot was leaving her to go safe.

Why?

Because it was his duty.

Gwen's eyes wavered between each of Lancelot's own, going back and forth as she took this in. She could feel the way her heart melted when she saw just how earnest Lancelot was. How…willing…he was to put aside whatever feelings he might have towards Arthur, complicated or not, just to save him. And it was clear Lancelot was doing this of his own violation and not because the knights had came to him after realizing they needed him, or they would have provided him with his supplies and he wouldn't have came to her for it. Gwen knew the answer to her question already, but she found herself asking it all the same.

"You really believe that, don't you?"