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!

192. Chapter 194

Lancelot NoLastName gazed down at the beautiful young woman standing in front of him, her beautiful brown eyes reflecting like dark diamonds standing out in the flames of the candlelight, her dark skin looking like chocolate in its finest of forms, the rare times Lancelot had seen the delectable desert only available to the richest of folks. But who needed to have such luxuries, when Lancelot had this woman in front of him. She was looking at him as if he had done something to deserve it, but Lancelot hadn't done anything to deserve a look like that. But, he also wasn't sure he had done anything to deserve such an amazing woman in his orbit. Guinevere…so sweet and kind hearted…she's the woman of his heart and here he was trying to leave her. Lancelot could've spent hours inside the little hut his lady lived in, doing nothing more than just watching the way the firelight bounced through shadows around her face. He could have never left Camelot like Arthur ordered him too, not without being able to see HER one last time. Where he could memorize every detail of that face, sear into his brain the way her brown curls fell around her face, how that little dimple appeared in her cheek whenever she smiled, how his heart ached just by being near her.

"Yes, my lady,"

Lancelot felt breathless when he answered her earlier question…he really did believe it was his duty to do his part and fight the trouble that's been plaguing this kingdom for days now. But Lancelot also had a duty to his heart, and that heart was telling him to stay here. To spend what could very well end up being the last night of his life with her, curled up around her smaller body as they sat together. Whispering their secrets against the other's skin, their hopes for the future as if they had dozens of years still waiting for them to live, breathing in the sweetness of her skin as she rested her head against his chest when sleep started dragging them down. SHE was what kept him breathing, what kept him fighting, and that…that was why he had to go. Lancelot needed to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to keep both her and Merlin safe, to keep all Camelot safe. And he couldn't do that from here, no matter how much it was going to kill him to walk away from this, leaving his heart behind with HER while he did his part.

"Lancelot," his sweet Guinevere spoke to him, and though she sounded almost as breathless as he did, the warrior still felt his stomach going tight with all his nerves. He was only minutes away from going into a fight to the death, but yet, it was Guinevere that scared him more than anything. He came here because he knew his Guinevere had the means to help him, because he trusted her to help him, and yet he was terrified she was going to kick him out. That the last time he got to see her would end with her cursing his name and telling him to get lost because she didn't have time for the situations he was going to throw himself into. "…I knew that there was a reason that I liked you. You're wanting to fight not just for yourself, but for all of us. Going after them when nobody would think any different of you if you decided to stay out of it, especially after the way they arrested you despite the skills that you showed them. I just…I do not think that I have ever met anybody quite like you before, Lancelot."

Lancelot's eyes grew wide, and he could feel the smile start spreading across his face, not even the griffin itself could have dragged his eyes away from the glorious being standing in front of him. Guinevere wore nothing more than her threadbare yellow dress, but she could have masqueraded herself as an angel for all Lancelot could see. An angel with the kindest spirit he had ever seen in his life. She looked at HIM as if he was something special? No. Lancelot had a duty to fulfill, but Guinevere was the strength behind him. Most women would not have been able to handle the kind of lifestyle, the kind of sacrifices, a man needed to make when they were a knight. Lancelot himself hardly understood the sacrifices a knight had to make just so others like Guinevere wouldn't have too. But…Lancelot's smile dimmed…he wanted to take Guinevere into his arms and crush her against her chest, but he needed to make sure she understood the risk he was taking here.

"If I should not return…"

Lancelot didn't even know where he was going with this, he realized, turning away from Guinevere when he saw the fear closing into her eyes. He had never wanted to be the one that put that kind of fear in her eyes, but time was short enough as it was, and this was likely the last thing he ever said to her. He did not want…if Guinevere cared for him as much as he cared for her…well, he did not want her to spend her time mourning him after he was gone. Lancelot had gone through that when his parents died, he had spent YEARS mourning them before training for his knighthood had given him a whole new purpose to keep his focus on. Somebody like Guinevere had never been something he expected to be part of his life. And if he could spare her from wasting her time on a man, a nobody, like him, then…he would. He wanted Guinevere to have a FULL life, a life that included falling in love with somebody else who wouldn't have to leave her so soon after their faithful meeting. Somebody who would be able to keep his full attention on her, somebody who would never be torn between duty and honor and his heart, and forced to choose which one was more important.

"If you think that you aren't going to return, then I beg you…please don't run off and risk your life for people that would sooner cast you aside before they welcome you into their fold. They don't deserve to have you willing to fight for them, not after everybody turned their back on you once they learned you are not a noble." Guinevere begged of him, stepping forward and grasping onto his wrist with her delicate little hand, squeezing with more strength than she had appeared to have. But perhaps his Guinevere could read the expression on his face, because she cast her eyes down to their feet to try and hide the wetness in her eyes as she slid her hand from his. They both knew Lancelot was going out to fight, whether the Camelot Knights accepted him or not. That was what having honor meant, fighting the tough ones even when he didn't have proper backup. "There's just…there's got to be something else you can do, something that isn't going to include risking your life. We just haven't figured out a way to end all of this yet! If you..if you insist on going, then you've got to be smart on this. This is about the creature, yes? That thing took out dozens of knights but it's got to have a weak point, right? Something that can be exploited. If you will simply hold off, perhaps I can talk to Merlin and…"

Lancelot looked down at his beautiful Guinevere with something akin to pity in his eyes…he already knew that the woman would have worked herself down to the bones in order to find him a proper answer or combat strategy. That's why Lancelot liked her so much, her willingness to offer a hand in need even when she didn't have all the answers, even when it would be easier and safer for her to bury her head in the sand and pretend the dangers of the world hadn't been knocking on their door for a while now. Or maybe Guinevere was just trying to get him to stay here with her, where she could keep an eye on him and be sure that nothing had happened to Lancelot. She couldn't do that if he left her here by herself. Guinevere wasn't a fighter, nor a warrior, or anything of the sort. He knew she could do nothing more than wait for the news on what happened this night when the morning came. Lancelot needed far more this time, than having proper clothes stitched together for him.

"As we are speaking, Arthur and his men are riding out to battle. I have to be able to follow their trail into the woods so I cannot allow them to get too ahead of me. I wish that there was more time for me to research more about what the creature is, but there simply isn't. I wish…I wish for a lot of things, actually." he said, voice going soft as he reached out to touch her, to brush one of her erect curls out of her face. Brushing this curl gently behind her ear before letting his fingers trail down her soft cheek, giving into his urge to touch more, cupping his Guinevere's chin into his fingers before raising her head so that he had the chance to look into her eyes, wanting to take the memory of the intimacy that hovered between them with him to battle. "But despite what I want, despite all that's happened and the scorn I'll be facing…I have to go. I need to go and do this…if not for the safety of…the person that I care about, then for the safety of the one person that we both care about…Consort Merlin. You and I are both aware that he'll never be safe as long as that thing roams the land. It's already came for him not once, but twice, and do we really want to tempt the fates by allowing it a third chance?"

Guinevere looked hesitate, her expression torn into two as she baffled the war within herself, a struggle that Lancelot felt he knew well. He had struggled all the same between deciding to stay here within the warmth and care of his kind Guinevere's home, and his desire to make sure Merlin could live in a city where he didn't have to fear for his life. Lancelot's eyes grew impossibly softer, more sweet, as his thumb trailed over his Guinevere's face…brushing the calloused pad across the thickness of her bottom lip, feeling the soft skin as it started to give away beneath his touch. He watched as a red hue started fighting its way through her dark cheeks, and all Lancelot wanted to do was press their cheeks against each other, to be close to her in a way they'd never been before, being able to share their closeness. But it appeared that Guinevere made her choice as well, this determined glint showing in her eyes as she jerkily nodded against his hand. If there was one thing the two of them had in common, it was how far they were willing to go for the one that had given so much of himself for them.

Lancelot couldn't do anything but stand back as Guinevere went to work right in front of him, running from one end of the hut to the other as she gathered all she thought he might need. She used the table in the middle of the room to place the pieces of armor, Lancelot's chest plate and shoulder guards and arm guards and shin guards and helmet and everything else in between. It was only as Guinevere was shaking out the tunic did Lancelot recognize the designs on the chest…it was HIS armor. Lancelot's eyes grew wide as Guinevere brushed her hand along the fabric to smooth it out. The armor that Guinevere created for his deception had been taken from him when he had been arrested, found tucked away in a corner of Gaius' home where he had left it, or…at least that's what Lancelot assumed had happened to it. Wouldn't the knights have taken it as evidence? How could it have already been here in Guinevere's home…as if it was just waiting for him to return for it.

"I, um…I went ahead and rescued it from Gaius' after I got the news that you'd been arrested. I mean, I didn't know if you were ever going to be able to wear it again…didn't know if you would ever walk out of that dungeon again. But…it also didn't feel right just to leave it there." Guinevere spoke up, seemingly able to realize what has caught his attention, even when she wasn't looking back at him. Lancelot eyed her with awe in his eyes, feeling himself falling even deeper for this woman in front of her…he didn't know if there'd ever come a time that his falling would come to an end. This woman…Lancelot didn't know what word he could use to describe what he was feeling right now. He just knew he could not take his eyes off her, his gaze latching onto the back of her dark neck as it became hidden behind her dress, little curls sticking to her nape and begging for him to brush them off her skin. "Maybe…maybe I just wanted to feel close to you if I never saw you again. Maybe…maybe I still want to be close to you if I do not see you after this night. But…I know that you will need these items way more than I have use for them just sitting here with me."

Guinevere seemed so embarrassed about what she was saying, returning her eyes down low to focus on her work, straightening out his armor when it didn't need to be. Embarrassed perhaps, to admit that she needed him just as much as Lancelot needed her, more than he needed air to breathe or water to drink or food to eat. All of Lancelot's physical needs paled in comparison to what he could get from Guinevere, her companionship filling in this void inside that had gone unnoticed all these years. God, if Lancelot's armor had given Guinevere a touch of comfort when Lancelot himself had been indisposed, then keeping all the pieces hadn't been for nothing. If his armor gave her comfort, then he was almost tempted to walk into battle with nothing more than his normal peasant garb, because her comfort was worth more than anything Lancelot had to give her.

"Come now, let's get you dressed."

Guinevere cleared her throat, her voice so hoarse as she tried brushing away all that she had said, as if it hadn't awoken a pounding in Lancelot's chest that tore through him with the strength of a thousand griffin's. But Lancelot heeded her call, and stepped up to the candlelight perched on the edge of the table so his lady could get to work. Guinevere kept her eyes down low as she started to help him dress, working the tunic over his head and tugging the orange fabric down so that it fell into place. Usually, Lancelot would have gotten dressed by himself, seeing that he didn't have an army of servants at his beck and call to do it for him. But this time, Lancelot said nothing as he kept his eyes trained to Guinevere's bowed head, moving as she instructed when fixing the metal plate on his shoulders, when she bent down to her knees to strap his shin guards in place, and when she stood back up before working on tying up the guards that went over his arms. Her fingers were trembling against the crook of his elbows as she fooled with the straps, the shadows bouncing across her dark skin with such reckless abandonment that it drew Lancelot in with the same strength of a moth being herded to a candle.

"What is it?"

Lancelot didn't dare to speak any louder than he had, his voice barely above a whisper in case he broke the intimate atmosphere the room was drowning the both of them in. Guinevere jumped, her head snapping up as her hands jerked sharply against the strap, pulling at it rough enough to nearly cut off his actual circulation. But Lancelot hardly noticed, already drowning within those sweetly innocent chocolate colored eyes…Lancelot could have stared into them for an eternity and never got tired of what he was seeing in them. He could've stayed in this room for eternity, and never missed what the world outside their bubble could give to him. Not as long as he had his Guinevere here to keep company with for a week…a year…an entire lifetime. Even a lifetime felt as if it would be too short of a time for him to be in her presence.

"Nothing."

Guinevere blustered as she dropped her attention back to what she was doing, loosening his strap until it was at the right pressure against his arm. But there was a redness to her face, darker than before as all the blood rushed upwards, and that told a completely different story. Lancelot quirked a small smile at her embarrassment. Perhaps he should be preparing himself mentally for the fight that was coming up, but how could he do that when there was such a beautiful lady in front of him. A lady that was blushing and pretending she didn't already know he was staring down into her soul with all the strength that would've only came from the flourishes of a first love coming to life. Lancelot could've gone on and counted the many ways that his Guinevere enthralled him with her very being, he could have sprouted a thousand poems but none would have told of her beauty and sweetness and strength properly. It would've paled compared to what Lancelot saw when he was looking down at her.

"Come on, Guinevere. Whatever it is…you know that you can tell me."

Lancelot's words came out like the sweetest of croons, encouraging the lady to open up to him…it might be the last thing he ever knew about her, whatever it was that was circling around in her brain. And he watched as Gwen bit down on her plump bottom lips, drawing his eyes like a magnet…he wanted to land a kiss on her, Lancelot realized, tension drawing his muscles tight. He wanted to lean down and kiss her as if his life demanded on it, kiss her as if their entire world was about to crumble beneath their feet, kiss her…as if Lancelot didn't have a tomorrow. This might be his only opportunity, his only chance to do a thing, but…would Guinevere allow him too? She had already confessed some feelings towards him, feelings that Lancelot very much shared, but would she want him too? Lancelot didn't know, he didn't want to make her upset during what could very well be their last moments together. He didn't want her to go carrying the memory around with her if she didn't want him too…

"It's just…" Guinevere hesitated once more, her fingers stalling against the ties on his arm guards, resting them there before she plowed ahead. "I remember a while back, in the first few weeks Merlin was in Camelot, he came to me asking if I could help him put on a set of armor. This was in the early days of Merlin's marriage to Arthur, and Merlin was still looking to impress him on some kind of level. He thought helping Arthur put on his armor would do that. I'm not sure if it entirely worked, things started going bad between them not long after all of that happened. But the point is…Merlin was only thought of doing it because it was a tradition here in the city. A…a knight's lover helping them dress in their armor, preparing them for the challenges of the fight that lies ahead. Maybe it is a stupid tradition, but I just thought…it's almost like us, in a way. You are a knight, whether you've got the title itself or not, and I'm…I'm helping you into your armor just like a…a…"

A lover would, Lancelot filled in the rest of what Guinevere was going to say in his mind, the word hitting him with the same force of a lighting strike catching him in the heart. She…his Guinevere had her head down, her rosy complexion spreading further down her face with sheer mortification, as if she just didn't believe she had actually said that to him. But this was a sign, a confession…all but the words themselves that would tell Lancelot all he needed to know. But he could read between the lines all the same, and the pulse point in his neck started pulsing with heat, his hands growing sweaty as he was overcame by nerves. Guinevere might as well have just asked him to kiss her, and Lancelot felt as if running into a hoard of griffins would have been less scarier than the very thing he was about to do now.

"…I…I…I really hope that you forgive me for this, m'lady. If I don't make it back to you, I know I will regret it for the rest of my hours if I didn't have the chance to do this with you…even if it's only the one time."

Guinevere finally rose her head to look at him, her eyebrows forming together in the center of her forehead with her confusion. But Lancelot didn't allow her to question what he was talking about, he needed to do this before he lost his courage. He needed to do this before he allowed his cowardice to guide what his future might become…Lancelot seized forward, raising his hands up to put them on either side of Guinevere's cheeks, feeling the warmth as the redness of her face turned almost purple. And then he pulled her close, leaning down to her height, feeling his nose brushing against hers as her mouth fell open in surprise. Lancelot kissed her, right then and there, in her small little home with only the candle flames as witnesses to what was an otherwise private moment between the two of them.

Whatever Lancelot thought kissing Guinevere might be like, it paled when he was faced with the very real action. She was warm, heated up in this way that made him feel the same warmth all the way down to his toes. She was all soft curves pressed against him, smelling of the flowery soap she must use when cleaning her hair, and when she moved against him to press her lips more fully against his…Lancelot was sure he had fallen in love. Kissing Guinevere was an experience he had never had before, and it was an experience he didn't want to see end. Even when his air became short supply, his lungs struggling inside of him…he wanted to keep going. To draw this whole thing out until the both of them were satisfied, until the both of them could walk away from the other, till the entire world imploded around them.

Lancelot lingered for as long as his lungs would allow him too, before even he had to admit defeat and pull away, their lips sliding against each other just one final time before it was over with. Lancelot didn't go very far though, keeping his forehead pressed against her own so they could gaze at the other after the sweetest of kisses. It had only been a chaste kiss, nothing more than the press of lips against lips, but it had been the kind of kiss they put in stories. The kind of kiss that people would have waited an entire lifetime to have just once…and once was all Lancelot was going to get. But by god, he would wait an eternity for Guinevere on the other side of the light, if only so she would allow him the taste of her lips once again.

X

Guinevere NoLastName watched as Lancelot left her home, disappearing into the night wearing the armor she had made for him, like a ghost. His footsteps soft as he ducked down the side of her home to get wherever he was going to go without the knights seeing him. She felt as if her heart had just been taken with him, leaving her as nothing more than a body meant to wait for his return to her. Because that was all Gwen could do…wait to see. Wait to see if he came through the gates of Camelot by morning light, or if there would be some kind of announcement saying the entire platoon of men had lost their lives trying to protect the city. Wait to know if Lancelot would be one of the men perished in the destruction that would come in the next few hours…

Guinevere's home felt colder than it did when she had thought Lancelot was in the cells still, the gooseflesh raising on her arms until she was almost covered in them. She raised a shaking hand up to press her fingers against her bottom lip, the small spark of warmth there the only proof she had that none of this is some horrid hallucination she was being subjected to. It had been her one and only kiss, her very first kiss, and it had been everything Gwen had thought her first kiss should be like. She hadn't felt pressured to do more, or be loose with herself like some of the other serving girls, she hadn't felt as if the man would leave her the second he got what he wanted from her. She had felt…safe, and happy…protected in a way that made her stomach feel like a warm goo sinking inside of her. Lancelot was every bit of man, exactly the type of man that lived in her dreams, only made flesh and real and wanted her just as much as she'd been wanting him.

And now he was gone…

Gwen's stomach rebelled at the thought, the idea of never seeing Lancelot for as long as she lived too terrible a thought. And here she was, just standing in place as if there was nothing she could do to help him. Guinevere wasn't any kind of fighter, she had never been in a fight before and would only weigh her first love down if she tried to follow him into battle. But…she did know another that might be able to help her. Another who could…talk Lancelot out of such a doomed mission. If Lancelot wasn't going to listen to her, then there was only one person that he would listen to.

The very person he was going into battle for.

Determination filled Gwen all the way down to her core, and she acted quickly for fear of Lancelot getting away before he could be stopped. She snatched up her red traveling coat, already throwing herself out the door as she tied it into place around her neck. She would run as fast as she could to where she knew he would be right now, she wouldn't stop running until her chest heaved and it felt as if she was going to cough up a lung. She wouldn't stop running until she reached the one person that could stop Gwen from losing Lancelot in this fight he couldn't hope to win on his own…

Merlin.

X

Arthur Pendragon stood beneath the light of the full moon, feeling the weight of its cold gaze bearing down on him as he reading himself for way. He stood in just outside the castle, hearing the rustling of the ten men he had chosen to 'show honor' by fighting against impossible odds. His men were subdue, quiet as they got their horses ready to ride, as if they could also sense how somber this night was. For many of these men, if not for all of them, it was going to be their last night on earth. It was why Arthur had chosen those who had the least responsibility…the ones without a wife depending on them, or children wanting their father around as they grew up…Arthur's father hadn't even bothered with showing up to see them off. But that didn't matter, Arthur already realized he'd seen his father for the last time, when the man was giving him strict orders to ride out and give his life for…for an unjust cause.

But Uther Pendragon was far from the prince's mind, the young prince staring up at the stars as they twinkled above his head, not shivering even when this gust of wind blew by him, making his cloak flutter out behind him. Arthur was pretty sure nothing could touch him right now, just as he was pretty sure there was wrongness in the air. It was peaceful, yet, but it was too peaceful. As if the earth itself hadn't gotten the memo that many young knights were going out to die tonight of all nights, and that Arthur himself would be leading them all right to their damnation. Arthur's horse neighed from somewhere beside him, but all Arthur did was mindlessly pet at its rump…Arthur's eyes were lined with red so dark that it was surprising none of his men had commented on it. Arthur spent so much of his time screaming and crying before he had gone down to see the traitor knight, so much of his time grieving over something that he had nobody to blame for but himself, so much of his time…pleading for the fates to pull him back through time so he could restart…everything. But the fates hadn't tried to do the one thing he asked of them, no matter…he didn't really believe much in the fates to begin with.

But who else could he talk to about…Merlin.

Maybe that was why Arthur was out here, contemplating his place in the grand scheme of the universe, instead of readying his horse like he was supposed to be doing. He probably should have already left for the battle, but Arthur didn't move. He had just spent…so much of his time trying to hurt Merlin in each and every way a person could be hurt, he'd spent weeks regretting those decisions of his past, and he'd spent months trying to get Merlin from his mind. That had all been time wasted, time Arthur was never going to get back, time the prince couldn't do anything about. And right when Arthur thinks he's starting to get a bit of a handle on his situation, making things off the mental list in his head of things that could gain Merlin's forgiveness, he gets hit with another horrid and deveststing blow.

That stupid, fucking collar…

Those stupid, fucking golden chains…

Perhaps Arthur was only wasting time now because he hoped Merlin would be the one to show up, filling the absent void left by his father. His consort would appear at the top of the stairs, screaming Arthur's name loud enough for their entire kingdom to hear, and Arthur would whip around in surprise and only get enough time to open his arms wide enough to catch Merlin in them. It was just a stupid fantasy of his…imagining his death might mean something to Merlin…imagining Merlin racing out here because he couldn't stand Arthur getting hurt and never coming home. But…that was the fantasy. And Arthur's greed and his selfishness and his lust for control had chased Merlin away from him. He'd not come to Arthur tonight, nor would Merlin come any other night. Arthur already made his grave in Merlin's eyes, and now Merlin was probably counting down the minutes till he received the news of Arthur's demise.

Arthur tried to imagine when Merlin was doing right now, but considering how late the hour was…he could only assume the consort was lying in his bed down in Gaius' chambers, peacefully falling to sleep now that Arthur wasn't going to be able to bother him again after tonight. Arthur imagined Merlin curling up in his bed, his long legs naked and bare just as Arthur knew he slept, twisting in the blankets as he found himself a comfortable position. His eyes shutting, the lashes long enough to grace the apples of Merlin's cheeks, a little grin playing on his lips as he imagined his own future without Arthur in it. God…the things Arthur would do if he only had a little more time. He would have gotten down on his knees at Merlin's bedside, and sat there for hours until the other woke up just so he could beg his consort for the forgiveness he didn't deserve.

Maybe Arthur had never deserved forgiveness.

Maybe Arthur had done exactly what he had done, and now this was going to be his penance for his crimes against Merlin.

Going out by having his throat ripped out by a magical creature…it didn't seem as if it was such a bad way to go. He deserved something much slower, a kind of torture that lasted for years on end until he was nothing more than a broken shell of a man. Maybe Arthur already was a broken shell of a man, but at least his death would be quick…once the griffin managed to get his hooks into him. If his people weren't depending on him to put his all into going through with all of this, Arthur probably would have walked into the griffin's nest with his arms held open wide, waiting for it to come and get him without a fight.

People who dishonored their husband's didn't get mercy.

Would Merlin also be depending on him to end this, like his people?

Even after he had argued against the plan.

"Sire, I believe that it's time for us to embark."

Arthur tilted his head and made a non-communal hum beneath his breath after one of the knights gathered enough of their courage to approach him. Perhaps Arthur would have prided himself on being scarier than what they were leaving to face, but the time where Arthur found that funny was behind him. It left him hollow, imagining all the times Merlin must have been scared to approach him for one reason or another. His knights didn't carry the same punch it did when Arthur imagined the fear in Merlin's eyes that he'd already seen far too many times. But Arthur waited until his knight stepped back in line, until everything in the world seemed to go silent, even the crickets, before turning around and facing them. Arthur eyed the ten knights…half of them seasoned, having not a thing in the world to lose, and the other half filled with fresh faced 'extra sons' that would not be a major loss if they died before their time.

These men, all looking at him and waiting for his orders, were expecting him to lead them into victory. They didn't know they were marching towards what was no doubt going to be their execution, they still fully believed they could be the ones to land the killing blow and bring safety back to Camelot. Arthur had tried warning them of the risks, tried explaining it wouldn't be a black mark against them if they wanted to drop out, but…they trusted him enough to put their own lives into his hands. Arthur's confidence was shattered though, shattered way beyond what he ever thought it could be. If Arthur wasn't even able to take his own consort by the hand and lead him towards paradise, where he'd never live in fear of Arthur's hand, then how could anybody expect him to lead this small platoon to battle? They were practically dead men walking, and would end up being goners once Arthur had fallen, with no second-in-command to take over if any of his men were still standing.

Somewhere in the back of Arthur's mind, there was a traitorous voice trying to whisper to him…Lancelot probably would have made a decent second should Arthur need one. And looking at the men he was bringing with him into battle now…Arthur himself found it hard to disagree. He knew the skills of the men he had, and while they were decent enough to bring along on something as huge as this mission was, he was pretty sure Lancelot could have swept the floor in only a few simple moves with each and every one of them. Skills like that…the prince shut down the line of thought the same way a metal grate would throw itself close. There was no use in Arthur thinking such meaningless things, no use in thinking what could have been if Lancelot hadn't gotten caught when he did. There was no use in thinking about anything, really. Death was coming for him whether or not he sat here and mourned for losses he was struggling with understanding.

With his men still waiting for his orders, Arthur turned around and grabbed on his steed's saddle, pulling himself up and swinging his leg over to settle on its back. The horse neighed beneath him, moving back and forth on its hooves, and vaguely, Arthur just knew the horses were going to die along with the rest of them. Battle horses they were, they weren't going to run at the first sign of danger, not like Arthur wished they would…they'd been trained too well. Arthur tightened his hands around the reins, and looked back up at the moon high in the sky, taking in what could very well be his last glimpse of something that he could see was peaceful. It was the contrast he needed, something that would soothe the roaring beast inside his chest, something that would stop him from falling down to his knees and pleading for things to change.

"…It's time."

Arthur's voice rung out among the silent group of men straddling their horses behind his back, crisp as he snapped the reins of his horse. The steed took off at a steady pace towards the gates of Camelot, the wind was throwing Arthur's blond bang across his forehead, and he could hear the steady trots of his men following behind him without hesitation. Arthur leaned forward so that he had his chest almost touching against the back of his horse, encouraging it to go faster and faster and faster…it felt as if Arthur was trying to outrun every one of his problems. But the way his heart kept clenching inside his chest, Arthur already knew…he was never going to be able to outrun his problems. He knew that they were going to follow him wherever he went, lingering in his soul like gushing wounds that never healed, like ghosts that were haunting him.

It wasn't all that long ago that Merlin had told him he needed to 'fall into some creek and die.'

And it wasn't all that long ago, that Lancelot had been up in arms over Arthur and how he treated Merlin, fussing at him about how he needed to learn and listen to what Merlin was telling him to do.

Well…maybe it was time for Arthur to take Lancelot's advice.

Maybe then…maybe the ghost of Merlin hovering around him would cease to exist.

X

Merlin Pendragon felt as if he had said the same spell at least a hundred times or more, going from whispering the enchantment under his breath all the way to screaming the words until it felt like his throat was getting hoarse. He held out the rusted blade Gaius had given him to use for the spell, concentrating on it with all his might. He had tried putting so much of his magic into getting this one spell right, but no matter what he did or what he tried…it just wouldn't do anything. The dagger stayed as old and as rusted as it had been when Gaius had pressed it into his head, nothing to indicate Merlin was making any kind of progress. He could feel the magic inside of him, could feel the spark traveling its way up and down his arm, feeling it like a bubble inside just threatening to burst from its container. But no matter how much Merlin poked and probed or even jabbed at that bubble, it remained stubbornly strong. Until at some point, Merlin felt like he was looking like a fool, screaming into open air at nothing.

Merlin gritted his teeth, his hand tightening harshly around the handle until it felt like indentions were forming on the palm of his hand…this wasn't going to work. Merlin had already tried and tried and tried again, so…why was he even still bothering to try? Considering the time crunch they were on, Merlin KNEW it wasn't going to magically light up during the final hour, that was a luck that he just didn't have. Merlin should have been looking for alternative solutions instead, other things he actually had a chance of getting to work that would take care of their problem. Perhaps the blade Gaius had given him was just too rusty for it to work anyway and that was what was effecting it, or…maybe his failures were because Merlin wasn't good enough to do this. Merlin was used to…making light shows and moving things through the air. He wasn't used to drawing energy from the air to turn it into a weapon…that was the serious hard core stuff. Stuff Merlin didn't feel like he was ready for.

"Don't worry, Merlin. I know that you're trying, but this magic is complicated, I didn't expect for you to get it right on the first try. You just have to keep trying before we see any results. You've got to be very precise with how this spell is conjured." Gaius was trying to somewhat coat him from the sidelines, keeping a steady eye on the process Merlin wasn't making. Right, Merlin thought as his shoulders sagged forward, that was why he was doing this. Because it was the 'right thing to do', because Gaius didn't want Merlin burdened by the throne if Arthur died too early. Because…because what else was Merlin supposed to do other than fight himself? "Now, I want you to simply take a moment to breathe and center yourself. I want you to feel the magic rushing inside of you, before pushing it down to a pinprick. The magic isn't working because you're putting too much power into it, it's wild and untamed, and it needs to be sharp, sturdy, for the energy to form. Understand?"

Merlin nodded helplessly, it wasn't the first time his uncle had told him similar things to this, but it wasn't as easy as he made it sound. Merlin had been used to keeping his magic on the down low, used to keeping it somewhere under the surface so it wouldn't burst out of him at all hours of the day. He'd been forced to learn that, or he would have been making farming tools fly across the fields and straight to his hand just because he was too exhausted to get up and grab it the normal way. But keeping the magic shimmering beneath his skin was just different when compared to directing it to go a certain way. Merlin kept trying though, stopping long enough to pinch at the bridge of his nose to get himself 'centered' as Gaius called it. But even when Merlin went so far as to bend onto his knee, holding the knife above his head and focusing on feeling what energy hovered invisibly in the air…nothing happened. NOTHING HAPPENED. The only thing Merlin could do was shove himself backwards and land on the bottom of the stairs, curling his knees against his chest and burying his face in the palm of his hand not holding the knife.

"This isn't working! I'm a complete failure at this! Do you know how hard this is, magic wasn't meant to be pushed into a box and directed out the way you want it to go! It's wild and free and…and…and I'm hopeless! I can barely feel the energy in the air, I'm not even sure what I'm feeling IS the energy, or if I'm just fooling myself here because I don't want to be a total disgrace!" the young consort exclaimed, dragging his hand against his face and dragging it roughly through his bangs before letting it drop. He stared at the dirty floor under his feet, feeling desolate, the weight of his failures dragging him down. He pulled his knees tighter against him, a barrier that didn't stop the pulse of failure and disgrace and tragedy trying to drown him. "Maybe…maybe this isn't something I'm meant to do! Maybe it isn't something I CAN do. Or maybe…maybe it isn't working because it's Arthur I'm trying to save. My magic KNOWS that Arthur is an enemy, and it's reacting to that, preventing me from succeeding. Maybe it's because…because I would feel absolutely nothing if he perished tonight."

Merlin was too ashamed of himself to look at his uncle, placing a hand down on the floor beside him to trace absentminded shapes among the dust. It was no secret that Merlin detested Arthur with every bone in his body, Gaius knew that best of all, but it was the first time Merlin's magic had been affected like it was. But like somebody who couldn't perform their duties, what good was the consort if he couldn't pull at the one ability he had? He kept being talked to as if he had this unimaginable power inside of him just waiting to burst free of his human skin, giving him abilities that could no longer be classified as being just simple 'party tricks.' His uncle believed in him, but what did that matter when it was such a struggle for Merlin to believe in himself? Maybe his anger toward Arthur had gotten the best of him, and now what was he supposed to do if that was indeed the case?

"Merlin…I don't believe that you can't do this. You have all the skills you need to get it to work. You have the strength to do it inside of you. Magic is quite a complicated thing to master, and you can hardly expect to get something right the first few times. Most people take years just to make the kettle move across the room, but you don't need such time. You simply need to learn how to hone it into something that can be used for YOUR conscious wants." Gaius said in a way that was supposed to inspire confidence, but it only made Merlin want to shrink into himself even more. Because wasn't this whole thing WHAT he was wanting in the first place? To see Arthur dying, to see him getting what it was he deserved for how he had abused Merlin, to see Arthur losing what dignity he had just as Merlin had lost his. How could he hope to end this if…if all this was EXACTLY what he had been angling for all these weeks. Perhaps this was the time Merlin was supposed to feel guilty, because what kind of monster was he to wish such a gruesome death on somebody? But then…all Merlin had to remember was that Arthur had made him this kind of monster. Arthur had been the one that forged Merlin into the man he was today. "Besides, you just have to keep in mind what the consequences will be. Do remember that you will be the one everybody turns to once their prince is gone. As much as Arthur's hurt you in the past, his death is going to get you nowhere. You don't need to have anymore added responsibility right now. You just need to…get through this and be done with it all."

Right, Merlin thought with a heavy sigh that pulled at his muscles…that was his one big motivator for doing all of this. Preventing himself from turning into this kingdom's future ruler, so…protecting Arthur tonight was really all about trying to protect himself. Merlin could hardly take care of himself, he was still having to work on himself and his healing progress. Merlin still had a hurt time eating a full plate of food, still had a hard time not flinching if somebody came up to him when he wasn't expecting it, still had this stupid fear of asking the wrong questions and being made to look like a fool. Gaius says he was doing so good considering he'd been really throwing himself into his healing only during their last few weeks, but Merlin knew that he could do better! But…Merlin was often plagued by nightmares that left him in a cold sweat, had to talk himself up just to leave through the front door, had to stay rigid with his schedule to keep his semblance of normality going. How could he be expected to rule a kingdom if he couldn't even rule himself? And THAT was why Merlin forced himself to get back to his feet and try the spell one more time. Closing his eyes this time just to feel the pulse of magic echoing beneath his veins and somewhere right next to his soul and heart, the echo of the dreadful future waiting for him ringing in his ears…

Merlin's eyes snapped open as the front door swung open with enough force that it banged against the wall, making even Gaius jerk around with surprise at the sudden intrusion. Merlin acted quickly before he even saw who had came into their home, tucking the dagger quickly beneath his shirt and somewhere down the back of his pants before the newcomer could question why anybody like Merlin would be holding a dagger in the first place. The blade was rough going in though, and Merlin bit back a wince, hoping he wasn't going to catch some sort of disease from the rust no doubt staining the back of his clothing. It would be just his luck, Arthur would go down marked as a hero for his fight against the griffin, and Merlin would go down from dying because of his usual idiocy.

"Merlin! Oh, thank god! I…I don't know if I'm too late or if he's already left and I don't even know if you'll be able to stop him in time but…you've got to help get him to stop! He isn't going to listen to me, and you are the only one that will be able to get through to him! I just know it!" Gwen appeared in front of Merlin as soon as she had entered the room, looking like a complete whirlwind the very second her eyes had landed on him. She reached out to grasp onto the edge of his jacket sleeve, eyes grown wide with terror and fight, and Merlin couldn't do anything more than gap at her with confusion. What was she panicking over herself for? Who was she talking about? What made Gwen think Merlin, failure of any and all things that were actually important, could stop whoever before they did whatever Gwen was worried about. Perhaps Gwen realized she'd been running her words together and was making absolutely no sense, because the handmaiden took a deep breath and quickly corrected herself, "It's Lancelot I am talking about! He showed up at my house looking for weapons and all the works! He's bound and determined to follow Arthur into the woods and get rid of the creature! You just need to talk to him, get him to see reason…make him understand that this is one fight he can't win. Because if he goes…if he goes I just know he won't be returning. Please…Merlin…"

Gwen nearly broke down in front of him, bringing both of her hands up to try and cover her face, releasing a loud sob that shook her entire body right down to the core. Her hands were literally shaking from the stress of seeing her new lover leaving for his death match, and it practically tore Merlin in half seeing his best friend in such a state. But that was masked over completely by the jolt of sheer and utter panic filling him up from the inside out when her words were finally registering. He couldn't believe his ears, as if this night couldn't go and get any worse than it already was! First, Arthur decided to be stupid and follow his father's blind orders. Second, Merlin was forced to save the life of the man that made his a living hell for months on end, and still managed to fail at doing it. And third…this happens! Merlin hadn't even known Lancelot had gotten out of the jail cells, yet alone that he was running off to do something that was so incredibly stupid! If Lancelot had heard of Arthur's platoon leaving the city to tangle with this griffin out in the woods, then surely he also heard of the thirty or so men that had been heavily injured and/or died during the last attack the griffin had launched against them!

"No, nonononono. Lancelot is absolutely not going out there! I refuse to watch him go and get himself killed! Does he have some sort of death wish? Because I'll be happy to knock some bloody sense into him if that's what it takes to get him to stay put where he is!" Merlin exploded, a fresh wave of energy taking command over his previously exhausted body. But he wasn't going to watch as Lancelot, his friend, decide to do something as stupid as what the prince was trying to do this very minute. He didn't have time for crap like that! He thought Lancelot was smarter than Arthur! Fuck, did Merlin have to do everything that needed to be done around here? Or was he just that bloody special…the young consort forced himself to take a steady breath like his uncle had commanded him to during his attempts at containing his magic. And then he placed both of his hands on either side of Gwen's shoulders, squeezing her gently till he saw her lift her head up out of her hands, and he spoke with as much earnestly as he could manage through his frustration, "Don't you worry about one thing, do you hear me Gwen? I'm going to drag Lancelot kicking and screaming all of the way back to you if I bloody have too, alright?"

Gwen looked up at him with round and trusting eyes, her entire faith placed on Merlin's shoulders, and it almost hurt Merlin to be looking at them now. He was not able to understand why she was trusting him…he failed at making his own husband see sense, and he failed at making this dagger work, and he may just fail Lancelot as well. But, Merlin supposed he had to try SOMETHING! It wasn't as if he could just sit around and wait to see whether or not Lancelot would be returning to them. Merlin didn't WANT to just sit around and wait to see if the warrior would return to them. Lancelot was his friend, and if the man was dead set on running straight into danger, then Merlin wanted to be the voice to stop him from doing something stupid…ironic, considering he felt like he was King of Stupid Decisions.

"…You know, he's doing all of this for you too. Riding out into battle and going after Arthur, fighting this creature until there's no breath left in his body…this is for you. And for me. Because Lancelot is that kind of person, I suppose, but it's more than that too." Gwen spoke in her soft and gentle way, the red color hue beneath her eyes bringing out her dark complexion, while Merlin's hands froze on her shoulders. Lancelot was doing something so outrageous and so dangerously crazy…for him? For Gwen? What? But Merlin didn't ask for him to do something like that! Merlin would whether have Lancelot here, where he is able to see him and talk to him and even touch him if he wanted too, instead of out there getting hurt or killed or god only knows what else that creature may do to him once he finds it. Or what Arthur, for that matter, might do after the former knight showed up on the battlefield. "You asked me if Lancelot had a death wish, but he doesn't. Not really. I…I know that he isn't going out there looking to die, or to escape his problems, or anything like that. In fact, I think it's the exact opposite. I fear Lancelot wants to…prove something. But I don't know if it's me he's trying to prove something to, or if it's you, or if it's Arthur, or if he's just trying to prove something to himself! Prove that he's worthy to be a knight. I just…I don't want him to die because of some quest he's going to set for himself. So…please…bring him home…to me?"

Gwen sounded so hesitate, as if she was wrong to ask him to do this, as if he hadn't already made the decision to drag Lancelot back home kicking and/or screaming the entire way. But this was something different as well, Gwen had a ruby hue on her face that he hadn't noticed before, having been blinded by her panic. Merlin's brows furrowed, not knowing why she was looking as if she was incredibly flustered, but it wasn't his place or the time to ask about what she wasn't telling him. Gwen had asked him for a favor, and though he would have gone on his own, he knew he wouldn't have been able to deny her if he wanted to. Besides, whatever was going on between Lancelot and Gwen, well, if Merlin couldn't have a happy ending, then he wanted to see her get hers.

"I'll be back."

Merlin said this bluntly, releasing her shoulders and heading to the door with quick steps, the bluntness of the dagger digging into the base of his spine but far too blunt to actually stab him. Merlin was already out the door and starting halfway down the hall before he heard somebody calling out for him. He had to skid to a stop, head whipping back around to see that Gaius had followed after him. The wrinkle in Merlin's brow deepened, his head whipping back and forth between the staircase and his uncle, jumping back and forth from one foot to the other with his urgency. To keeping or not…but, his uncle knew what kind of emergency this was. He wouldn't stop Merlin unless he actually needed to say something. By the time Merlin even considered to keep going, Gaius had made it to his side, and was wasting no time with what he wanted to say.

"You're not coming back, are you?"

Merlin's head whipped back around, his eyes growing wide as he took in what his uncle said…what did he mean by…Merlin not coming back? Of course he is coming back! He just needed to get Lancelot and stop him from making what could be the last mistake he would ever make. And then he would be coming back here, hopefully with Lancelot in tow. He wasn't…he wasn't going to run off and do something himself! He wasn't…he wasn't…he wasn't trying to be so stupid anymore. The only place Merlin could go was after the griffin himself, but considering his poor performance with the dagger earlier, he wasn't nearly ready to try and face the creature for real. Merlin honestly didn't think he'd be ready to face the griffin…ever! Not even if he had years and years of practice under his belt.

"Don't give me that look, Merlin. I think after all these months, I have come to understand you and the way you think just a little bit. I know that you're going to take one look at Lancelot, ready to march into the pits of hell for whatever his reason is, and you are going to go right along with him. You're not the type of man that would let him go alone. AND-" Gaius was saying, each word felt as if it was nails scratching along a chalkboard in Merlin's ears, his head lowering further and further down with each point his uncle made. Merlin hadn't done anything yet, hadn't even considered the possibility that Gaius 'might' be right about what will happen, and here his uncle was. Already trying to make Merlin stay put, as if Merlin could just leave Lancelot as if he were a pair of old shoes he couldn't do anything with any longer! "I can tell you right now, that I'm not here to try and stop you. Nor am I going to even attempt to try and get you to not risk your fool neck by chasing after him."

Merlin threw his head up in surprise, eyes going wide as the shock filled him up all the way to his core. He had been so sure that Gaius was going to drag him back to his chambers, because what other reason would Gaius have for chasing after him? He had been so sure Gaius was going to lecture him about risking his 'fool neck' on something he hadn't done yet, and would probably be something that dragged on late into the night. Yes, Gaius had been spending the last few hours trying to craft Merlin into somebody strong enough to use the auras in the air as some kind of weapon, but maybe he already changed his mind on letting Merlin go after seeing his pitiful display earlier. What he'd not been expecting, was for Gaius to say he wasn't going to try stopping him from something that could possibly end with both him and Lancelot, and most definitely Arthur, dying in a ditch.

"Merlin, we were already planning on you going after Arthur and his platoon of knights to comfort this beast on your own, it's why you've been working all this time on getting your magic to cooperate properly. But I feel much better since I know Lancelot is going to be there, he won't allow anything to happen to you while you're in the danger zone." Gaius said quietly, gazing at Merlin with eyes full of sorrow and relief. Sorrow because Merlin was leaving from the safety of his home? Relief because he was running into the safety of another? Maybe he should be offended because Gaius clearly believed that he couldn't look after himself, not even for one night. But considering Merlin's history…his uncle may have a point to worry. Especially with the dire circumstances that he had been, knowingly or not, running straight towards. "Now…I know that I didn't agree on what you and Lancelot were doing this whole time, with his whole pretending to be a noble business, and I can't say I exactly trusted him when he first came into his lives. But…I believe that he's done some good here, he has impacting the lives of those who live here, whether he understood what he was doing or not. Gwen, and you…I think I've been starting to see glimmers of the old you ever since he came into your life. And I like what I've seen. AND he's done that by being himself, not by being…Sir Lancelot, the fifth son of Eldred."

Merlin's heart pounded like a drum inside his ribcage, and he was sure that his eyes were starting to mist over. He…he knew exactly what his uncle was trying to say, because Merlin could feel it to. He could feel the stirrings of himself the more he spent with Lancelot, could feel the thud of the real Merlin that he had buried beneath layers of self-deprecation to protect himself from the prince's abusive nature. He felt…happy, whenever Lancelot was around. He felt as if he could large out loud without abandonment or shame, felt like he didn't need to watch his words or what he said like he had often done with Arthur in the past, felt as if he could run miles with the wind blowing back his hand. As long as he had Lancelot by his side. Merlin hadn't felt a genuine connection like this in so long, and he had probably mistaken these feelings for affection. It would most definitely explain the sudden crush he had on the other man when they'd first met. But Merlin could see more clearly now…they were never meant to become a couple. No, that was completely Gwen's territory. But friendship…that was a completely different word. It was something that meant something to him, as he had so few friends to start with. Something he was likely to hold onto with every bit of strength he had. He would do anything and everything for him, as he knew Lancelot would do the same for him. Even if it meant running straight into danger head first.

"Now, I can't say I know what's going to happen once you leave my sight, I may just regret allowing you to go at all. But…I do believe that Lancelot will be your best chance at survival. Just like I know you are going to be his…you two need each other probably far more than I understand. Perhaps…this is even fate in the works, destiny that we can hardly understand starting to weave around us as we follow its order." Gaius continued to say, making Merlin's breath catch in his throat somewhere he couldn't find. The older man had never seemed as if he was the type to believe in things like destiny, or in powerful forces working behind the scenes to place everybody exactly where they needed to be when they were needed there. Or maybe Merlin just hadn't wanted to believe Gaius believed in such things…Merlin's apparent 'destiny', as the dragon beneath the castle claimed, had been crap so far. So why would anything else be anything different? "The point I'm trying to make it…your destiny has been entwined to Lancelot's from the very day you met him in the forest all those days ago. And no matter what happens tonight, I know that the results we hope for can only be possible with you two combining your skills and working together…as long as you remember to focus your magic in the right direction."

Merlin didn't say anything more after that, there was nothing to say, and so he nodded his head and quickly left. Within seconds though, Merlin was running in a full sprint, jumping down stairs two at a time and dodging around the odd knight that got in his way, not stopping or pausing for anybody that might try and get his attention. He had his eyes on one thing and one thing only…on his friend. On Lancelot. And as Merlin raced faster than he thought his body was able to go, his arms pumping back and forth as adrenaline flooded his system, the sound of his feet beating against the floor beneath his feet ringing loud in his eardrums, he couldn't help but wonder if Gaius was right. Maybe there was some kind of force beyond their comprehension working on him, something in the background deciding not only his fate but the fates of those he came into contact with. Because really, what were the odds of Merlin having been in the woods the day he met Lancelot? What were the odds that the two knights that had taken him out there, would take him to the exact spot where Lancelot was passing. What were the odds of the griffin attacking, driving Lancelot into his fight and subsequently, his life. What were the odds of…any of this!

Was Merlin and Lancelot even real friends?

Or were they only friends because fate had decreed it so.

X

"I can't believe you are behaving so reckless and doing something like this, are you for real? You can't just go to Gwen and tell her you're leaving on a mission that is more than likely to kill you! What's wrong with you! The best of Arthur's men fought against that thing and didn't make a dent against it!" The Consort had been yelling at Lancelot NoLastName ever since he arrived a few moments ago at the stables, where Lancelot had been busy saddling the horse that had been left out waiting for him, per Arthur's instructions. Of course, Arthur had planned on Lancelot taking the horse and fleeing the city while he had time to do so, but Lancelot had different plans for what he was doing. Or at least there had been plans before Merlin, his greatest friend and confident, had shown up in a whirlwind, kicking up the dust and nearly unsettling his hose when he did so. "I can't believe you thought for even a second to go out there and do this on your own! I thought we were friends, Lancelot? And you didn't bother with coming to tell me what you were doing! I had to hear it from Gwen when she decided to show up at my front door in a panic!"

Lancelot kept his back planted firmly to Merlin, pushing the buckle into place around the horse's side to keep him from falling when he finally got to climb in the saddle itself. But there was a hole in Lancelot's heart, a gaping hole telling him to follow his heart instead of what Merlin called 'a fool mission.' He should have known Gwen would have gone to Merlin, the girl of his dreams hadn't put up nearly as much of a fight as he thought he would have. He wanted to find it in himself to be mad about this 'betrayal', but he couldn't bring himself to. This was exactly something Guinevere would do, taking care of the people closest to her in the only ways that she could. Lancelot was honored to be considered one of them, and it allowed him to see Merlin one final time. If only Merlin was able to understand 'why' he was doing this. It wasn't so simple for Lancelot to put his blinders on, and pretend there wasn't chaos happening right outside of his back door.

"Do you think I'm not a good enough fighter? That I'll fall just like all the others that fell in combat against this griffin the last time it attacked?"

Lancelot kept his voice calm and steady, readjusting the straps one more time to make sure it wouldn't come undone while he was riding in full speed across the forest. But his heart was hammering in his chest, and in his ears, and it felt like it was trying to drown everything else. Lancelot had long since learned to see Merlin as a human first, and as the consort Lancelot admitted more than anybody else in the world second. But Boy Merlin and Consort Merlin was one and the same, and Lancelot feared the answer he would be given. Merlin was the one that believed in him, the one that pushed him further and turned him into something greater than he could have been on his own, the one who held an opinion that Lancelot knew could very well make him or break him. Merlin had always SEEN things in Lancelot, that Lancelot had trouble seeing himself. If Merlin thought Lancelot didn't have a chance, then…what chance could he possibly have? Other than ending up as dead as a doornail the second he got to the battlefield.

"You know that's not it at all! You could probably take on every man Arthur has out there right now, and win. You've taken on ARTHUR, and won before, so you know why? Because you are smarter than all of them combined! You have the kind of instincts that I'm sure knights who trained all their lives to have half of the skill you do, would kill for it. Brains seem hard to come by when you add in the armor." Merlin said bluntly, and Lancelot felt something deep inside of his chest start to loosen up. Something easing inside of him, knowing that Merlin's belief in him hadn't wavered. "Which is why I don't understand why you would do something completely idiotic! I mean, if I wasn't coming with you, then the next time I saw you would be when the next morning's patrol carried your body to Gaius for identification. If there's anything left of you to identify, of course."

Lancelot's hands went still against the horse's side as he took in what Merlin was saying, a specific part catching his attention almost immediately. Had the other boy just said he was…coming with him? As in, Merlin, was going to climb onto the back of the horse Lancelot had just saddled, and ride with him into a battle that he himself had just said was stupid. Lancelot's heart turned cold in his chest, complete and utter fear coursing throughout his body until it felt like it was trying to overtake him. No. Nononono. Merlin wasn't coming with him, it wasn't even a question! Lancelot REFUSED to bring Merlin someplace where it was very likely that his innards were going to be spewed across the field long before the sun made its reappearance in the sky. He couldn't stomach the idea of Merlin lying beside him, his throat ripped out and stained crimson, his blank eyes staring upwards with vacancy. Lancelot wouldn't be the one that caused Camelot's Great Consort to perish, he refused to carry that responsibility with him into an open battle.

"Merlin, I don't think that you are thinking clearly about this! This…this whole thing isn't like doing politics. It's not you talking to a king and savaging a way for peace to be made. This isn't like what you did for Gwen, battling Uther to get her released. This is an OPENED battle." Lancelot enunciating, needing to make sure Merlin understood this was life and death. The odds of any of them returning were so slim and uncertain, that it was practically minuscule. Merlin needed to be HERE, and not fighting against something fifty times his size. He hadn't even brought a sword with him for god's sake! Did he expect Lancelot to escort him into battle, where he wasn't even wearing armor, something that may buy him an extra few seconds of precious time. "You don't have any idea how to fight, you can't protect yourself from something that can rip you apart faster than you can blink. I won't be able to look after you if something should happen, because I'll be too busy trying to put an end to this. So, no, Merlin…it isn't something you can do. I'm NOT taking you with me."

Lancelot watched as something shifted across Merlin's face, this dark looking shadow that took over his entire face for a second. And Lancelot realized what he was seeing…the dangerous glint in Merlin's eye that had never once been directed at him before, the sharp smile on Merlin's lips that said he was most definitely not happy, and the strong way he stood that spoke of promising him serious retributions for what slights he had made, accidental or not. It was all at once when Lancelot realized he wasn't looking at his friend anymore. Now, he was looking at Consort Merlin. And there were reasons why people all over the kingdom were whispering his name, why all the stories that seemed to be too fanatical to be real ended with the consort victorious, why this simple boy could face against the odds he had and still somehow came up on top. Merlin and Consort Merlin were both two very different people, and yet somehow the same as well. The potential to rule an entire nation beneath his fist, as easily as he could get down on his knees and wrap fresh bandages around those that were injured.

"I don't think I was asking permission for you to go. I believe I said I was going to go, not whether or not you would take me. I'm well aware of what's going on out there, I have been keeping up with the situation, you know. So I do believe I know the risks of me going just the same as you do." Merlin said briskly, while angering his chin higher, a determined tilt to it that same Lancelot would end up damned if he tried to stop Merlin from marching ahead. "And just so we are clear about something, I really don't like you insinuating that I'm not 'thinking things clearly.' Do you know who tells me something like that? Arthur. He tells me things like that all the time when I tell him something and he wants to deny it's happening. So go ahead, be just like him if you want, and TRY to stop me. I will WALK myself if I have to."

Lancelot's breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't actually see it now. He had seen similar happenings before, the Consort in Merlin shining through the ordinary packaging: like the way he had talked Arthur down when the man had been deadset on trying to kill him with a broom handle that day. But Lancelot, now, could see why foreign kings agreed to make peace if this was how Merlin talked to him. Could see how Merlin, fettered with nothing more than sheer wit and determination, could pull Gwen away from the flames before the king was able to have her burned. And he could SEE how Merlin was able to tame all the wild snakes that had been set loose in Camelot with only the hiss of his tongue in the king's ear…wait…that was probably one of those stories that had grown grossly over-exaggerated. But no matter. Merlin didn't need to exaggerate the stories unfolding around them. Lancelot simply needed to shut up and let the consort take command.

"…I'm not trying to treat you like Arthur has, god no. That's the last thing I was trying to do when I said any of that. I just, Merlin…" Lancelot sighed heavily as he brought a hand up to comb roughly through his hair, already feeling like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, and his real battle hadn't yet begun even. But…Lancelot thought back to the weird way Arthur had acted in his cells before he released him, and the way he had came at Lancelot during the party because he thought he was cheating on Merlin, and the way he had came after Lancelot the night before when he thought Lancelot was lying this whole time to Merlin about who he really was. It was a strange canopy of odd scenes that made no sense considering Arthur's abusive history, and it made far less sense when being put together. "You need to look at it from the way I am looking at it…you're my friend, not just my Consort. You are probably really my ONLY friend, and I don't want to see you hurt. Not because of Arthur, or if I said the wrong thing that reminded you of him, or because a ten ton creature's decided to make you their favorite snack. I'm just…worried, about taking you to battle. You're not a soldier."

Lancelot laid his heart bare for the consort, knowing he was only one out of the two people he knew, that would look inside Lancelot's deepest pits and not be turned away by it. Perhaps Lancelot really did not to shut up, because just as his consort had said, he was well aware of the risks coming into the battle would bring him. Lancelot already knew Arthur would have his head if he did bring Merlin into the fight and he didn't make it out, he would probably regret ever allowing Lancelot to leave the dungeon cells. But Lancelot's loyalties had never been to Arthur Pendragon, even after the vows he had taken when he'd been given his original knighthood. They were with Merlin, a Peasant Consort with the entire world in the palm of his hand, who had only ever done what he thought was best. Both for himself, and for the kingdom that probably relied on him more than they knew.

"Neither were you, until I made you one." Merlin spoke in this firm and concise as he continued to stare at Lancelot with steady eyes, not wavering under the warrior's explanation for his actions. And Lancelot, something shifted deep in his shoulders, some kind of ancient instinct that had been bred into men with each generation that's gone by. It made him FEEL the weight of Merlin's words, the weight of what Merlin has done for him, asking for nothing from Lancelot in return…except for this. "And I'm NOT an unarmed civilian expecting you to be my escort throughout enemy territory. I AM a member of the royal family that has ruled over Camelot for only god knows how long. And I refuse to sit behind walls of a castle waiting for results I already know the answer of. I am going to do MY part and see that this ends…tonight. There are women and children and actual civilians living here, Lancelot, and how long will it take before the griffin returns to finish what it started if this doesn't end? I need to be down there, if only to protect my people."

X

Gaius Whytt of the proud and noble Whytt family, small as it now was, watched over the young girl that had been left in his care after Merlin had chased after Lancelot. It had been decided that Gwen would stay with him here for the night just in case they heard news on what was going on outside the castle. It's very likely that Gaius would be the first to hear when something happened. Being a physician meant that any survivors would be immediately brought here to get treatment for their injuries. And on the incredibly high chance of only bodies being recovered from the scene whenever Uther decides to send out a search party the next, well…it was likely Uther would deliver the news personally. With the weird way he'd been acting since discovering Merlin was Gaius' nephew, it would have been even odder if the king didn't stop by to try and offer him his 'condolences' on the loss. But either way things played out tonight, it's clearly obvious that Gwen shouldn't be home by herself.

Already, Gaius could feel his concern story as Gwen, sitting at one of his long tables, rapped her nails anxiously against the top of it. She had been restless ever since she had watched Merlin walking out the door, rambling to herself on whether or not she had made the right choice coming here, going and forth as if she could change anything now that she already had. She didn't seem to be noticing how…out of sorts she was becoming. Her hair already looked as if it's had a bird trying to make a nest out of it, half falling out of its ponytail while it looked frizzy on all sides from how many times she had ran her hands through it in the last few minutes alone. And the underside of her eyes almost seemed to be glowing from how ruby red they were, due to this strange combination of holding back her tears and rubbing at them harshly everytime she felt as if she may start. To be frank, Gaius was almost as worried about her as he was about his own nephew. There were so many things that could go wrong, both in here and out there where their loved ones were currently fighting for their lives.

"I mean, what if I made a huge mistake coming here! I can't believe that I just sent Merlin out there. You KNOW Merlin! He's going to find some way to get in trouble and we're just sitting here doing nothing! What if he can't get Lancelot to come back, but that wouldn't happen, right? Trouble or not, Merlin's always able to talk his way out of something. So it'll be the same this time, right?" the handmaiden was stressing, head whipping around to look at Gaius with those large brown eyes of her, as if she expected Gaius to tell her everything would be okay and Merlin should be walking back with Lancelot at any minute now, it would be a lie though. Gaius already knew that Merlin wouldn't be returning to them for quite some time…he just hoped it wasn't forever. Gwen hardly waited for Gaius to even come up with an answer to tell her, already whipping back to face the door. "Or even worse, what if Merlin actually decides to go WITH him! Did I just send him out to die! Oh, god! What if he left and never returns! And it would be all my fault! Merlin would have never known Lancelot was out there if I hadn't been the one that brought him up!"

Well, Gaius thought…Gwen wasn't exactly wrong. Merlin would've never been out there if she hadn't came running in here like a bat out of hell screaming at the top of her lungs about Lancelot. Merlin would have been right here, doing his hardest to shift the energy in the air to his bidding so that the aura could become a proper weapon. And by the time Merlin HAD decided to leave, then it probably would've been too late, the fight already ending by the time he did get there. And not in their favor. But Gwen was wrong about claiming it would be her fault if something happened. This scenario was always going to happen whether or not Gwen had decided to involve herself. But…she really was doing her best to work herself up, and Gaius was started to worry whether or not he would need to slip something into a tea that would calm her down.

"Gwen," Gaius started, clearing his throat roughly and waiting until he had her full attention on him. "I think perhaps it would be best for you if you decided to get some proper rest while we wait. It could take hours before we actually hear anything useful, and I'm sure you'd want to be aware of everything happening, which you won't be if you end up exhausted and sleep deprived." And the aged physician watched as Gwen immediately opened her mouth to protest against 'leaving' when their boys were still out there. But Gaius clicked his tongue and carried on before she could start with him, "I'm sure neither of them will want to see you passing out because you spent too much of your time staring down the door. What I want you to do is to go upstairs, you can use Merlin's bed for as long as you need. I'll come and get you should I actually hear what's going on out there, yes?"

Gwen still looked hesitate, glancing towards the door as if she was hoping the thing would swing open before she had to make a choice. But when it stayed stubbornly closed, Gwen turned back to Gaius, who gestured her towards the stairs where Merlin's room was. Perhaps they were both a bit stubborn about what they wanted, but Gaius was far more stubborn than Gwen, and had the added bonus of having YEARS of stubborn patients to work through. So, even though she didn't want to, Gwen sulkily nodded and climbed to her feet. Even she seemed to know she couldn't last stressing out like she was, and she was going to need every bit of strength she had if things turned out for the worse.

Gaius still waited until Gwen was safely closed away in Merlin's room before he got started on the REAL reason he didn't want her hanging around.

As soon as Gaius heard the click of Merlin's bedroom door, Gaius turned and hurried his way over to a large chest he had propped up against the wall next to his bookcases. He flipped the top of the chest open, peeking down inside of it. It was usually where he kept extra bits of medical supplies, and that would be exactly what he saw now. Rolls and rolls of extra bandages, little baskets he had different pairs of scissors and thread he used for stitches. There was this endless amount of parchment, each one scrawled with his handwriting, just a few personal notes he had made himself over the years. Information on things he found worked best for specific cases, information that could help him when the next person suffering from a specific ailment needed treatment. But none of that was why Gaius was looking into this chest now. He was looking inside because he had hidden a specific item inside here earlier this week, it had not been easy to sneak out of the forbidden vaults hidden deep within the castle. A place where Uther kept the most dangerous magical artifacts he managed to scourge up during the Great Purge, most were impervious to the normal mean of destruction, so they had needed to be kept under guard and key to prevent others from using them.

But Gaius had done it.

Gaius reached inside the chest, pushing and shoving different items out of his way until he reached the very bottom. Somewhere that he knew Merlin wasn't going to look and stumble across it accidentally, but Gaius had been tight with tension for fear of being discovered. It would all be worth it though, he knew it, as he spied the little black wooden box. It was a simple box, with no sketches or carving etched into the wood to show how special it truly was. Not a single soul would have guessed that it housed such a powerful magical item. But the physician knew that it did, and that was really the only thing that mattered. He reached into the chest and pulled the box out, rubbing his hands alongside the smooth surface. And after he checked one last time just to make sure that the handmaiden upstairs hadn't came back out, Gaius popped open the lid.

Something inside the case glowed, casting an eerie blue light to cast itself on Gaius' face.

And Gaius started to smile.

It was perfect.