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!

183. Chapter 185

Arthur Pendragon never made it back to his chambers that night.

Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an overstatement.

It would be better phrased as…Arthur Pendragon never bothered making the walk back to his chambers that night. He, instead, hunkered down in front of Gaius' chamber door. Sitting on the floor beside the wooden obstacle keeping him away from his consort. Feeling the indentions of the hard stones pressing themselves against his backside until his bottom was almost numb from it, the overcoat of his knight's uniform doing very little to offer him cushion. But that wasn't enough to make him leave. A herd of elephants could've ran by and the prince still wouldn't have left his damn position in front of this door.

Arthur didn't even know why he didn't leave.

Merlin was safe and sound now, tucked away in his bed under the safe watch of his uncle and Arthur's newest knight. Protected from any dangers that the world could hold, locked away where he wouldn't be found, snoozing away the drunken stupor he had found himself in. And for once, Merlin hadn't seemed as if he was holding the entire world on the brick of his shoulders. Just…totally at peace, happy and flushed and giggling to his heart's desire, speaking freely and openly and without a care in the world. It was a memory Arthur just knew he wouldn't have traded for anything else in the world. Even if that happiness had only been possible because of what Merlin had found at the bottom of a goblet.

Arthur stayed anyway…

Arthur had been relentless for those first few hours, sitting out here by himself with the occupants unaware, pacing back and forth like some kind of great and awful beast. Needing to get his energy out, his desperation, but knowing it had been far too late for him to grab a sword so he could beat the crap out of their numerous training dummies. He had wanted to cry some more, he had wanted to scream till the entire castle was forced to wake up and share with his pain…he had wanted to collapse to his knees and never get back up. Pain seemed to cripple him, anger with himself haunting him, his bruised ego had never felt so frail as it had when Merlin had wished he was married off to somebody just like his new friend Lancelot. But he hadn't don't any of that, for fear of disturbing Merlin from the sleep he had desperately needed, but his refusal to get some kind of release had made him do something else.

Something silent.

Something that would make the guilt rear its ugly head…

Arthur had thrown his wedding ring.

Arthur had been wearing his wedding ring every day, religiously, since Merlin had first gotten poisoned over a month ago. He had slipped it on over his ring finger and had sworn to never take it off again…a reminder of what he had to lose if he didn't get his shit together. He wore it when he trained, beneath his gloves so the metal wouldn't be tarnished, wore it when he bathed and he had watched it glisten under the water as he cleaned himself, wore it when he was climbing into bed and said silent good night's to his consort as he curled his hand beneath his pillow as if he was trying to keep it safe from any thief trying to steal from his highly protected chambers in the dead of night. Wake up with the flesh warm metal already a familiar and increasingly welcomed weight right on his finger, as if it was trying to greet him with the new day and prepare him for whatever this day's failure with Merlin would bring with him.

It had been stupid to fling it…

As if Arthur had given up on Merlin…

What was the point if Merlin wanted to be wedded to somebody else…

One minute, Arthur had been staring at the metal on his finger, feeling as all of the anguish over the last few weeks that had been building up inside his chest was finally starting to combust, and then he had been wrenching it off his ring finger as if his predicament was the ring's damn fault. Arthur could hardly even remember throwing the damn thing. He had just known he felt naked, now that the ring was gone. Knew he had felt like a part of his soul had followed the ring as it sailed across the hall. Knew each ping it made as it bounced off the walls and the floor made him flinch, like a punch to the gut, and Arthur had ran after it like hell was lapping at his ankles if he didn't find where it had landed.

Thank god he had found it.

Which was why Arthur was now where he was…sitting against the wall next to the door of Gaius' chambers. Staring blankly down at his hands as he silently twirled the ring again and again in an endless circle. Trying to make his finger feel not so cold anymore, now that it had been reunited with the ring. God…the prince would've been hurt less if he tried drowning himself in the lake, pushing himself below the ripples and feeling the slow, suffocating pressure all around him until his vision started to blur and black out. Drowning would have brought him peace…as long as his ring, his single keepsake of Merlin's, could go down with him. Just another reminder that Arthur couldn't be separated from a hunk of metal. A hunk of metal that had caused him so much strife when it had first been shoved onto his finger by a stubborn and hard headed Merlin on the day of their wedding.

How Arthur's perspective had changed…in such a short amount of time…

It's been an entire month already, the prince thought as he leaned his head back until the curve of his skull pressed against the stone wall behind him. An entire month of knowing the truth, an entire month since Arthur had realized Merlin's life wasn't as grand as he had assumed it was. An entire month since Arthur realized Merlin wasn't taking advantage of his new position among the court, an entire month since Arthur realized how Merlin's been being treated by both him and his people, an entire month since Arthur realized how much Merlin had been suffering. And the results of that suffering. The starvation and the depression and the mutilation and the suicidal tendencies…all pointing out to Arthur how this wasn't just some extreme way of getting his attention. All of this being undeniable signs pointing out how much Arthur had failed Merlin…in the most basic of ways.

Treating him like an accessory, whether than a person.

And now Arthur had another thing to add to the list, another reason to feel as out of place as he did…

Merlin wanted to marry Lancelot.

Or at least…somebody like him.

Arthur closed his eyes, pressed the back of his head against the stone wall till he felt the little bursts of pain, and released a quiet groan into the air. The first sound he had made since he'd left Merlin's room, and the noise itself had not sounded like him at all. It sounded as if it had came from a stranger, somebody who had known hardship like Merlin. Somebody who had allowed his weakness to get to him, who had allowed himself to buckle beneath the strain as if there wasn't anything else for him to give. Because honestly, how could Arthur hope to ever compete with somebody like Lancelot? Or somebody that was like the knight, somebody that would hold Merlin's affections with the same fragile bit of grace that it deserved. Somebody who would pull out all the romantic stops they had to, in order to make Merlin his properly. Something the blond couldn't allow himself to do. It wasn't as if Arthur wanted Merlin as a romantic partner…

He just wanted things to be alright between them.

He just wanted the friendship Merlin had tried to offer him when they had first met.

The truce they could've held onto, leaving the rest of the country to see what they wanted them to see.

Playing their parts in public, and getting to know each other properly within the privacy of their domains.

Without Arthur's misconceptions getting in the way of everything.

But how could Arthur compete with the idea of a husband Merlin was clearly still holding onto…

Merlin, during his drunken rambles, had said he wanted somebody handsome, but he had also thought he was talking to Lancelot. He clearly thought of the other knight as a handsome man, which he was, Arthur could admit in a totally objective way. It was no wonder Merlin had been crushing on him, even if he'd given up on it so Gwen could have him. And Arthur had never been conscious about his looks before…he was a handsome man, he had been told that before by enough ladies of the court to know it was true. He had blond hair and blue eyes, he was tall and had enough muscles to make him look good. But not too many that it made him look bulging. And even if he wasn't handsome, he was a prince, and that had a certain appeal that it would make most people overlook the smaller things…like the very slight crookedness of Arthur's front teeth.

But did Merlin find him attractive…

Sure, Merlin had liked him once, at the very beginning of their marriage. But he had to ask…what about him had made Merlin like him? Was it because the boy had thought him handsome? Did Merlin no longer like the blond, golden hair he had always been praised for? Did his blond locks make him look washed out…it had to. Especially when compared to Lancelot's dark locks. Maybe his consort would like him more if he grew his hand out so it hung around his shoulders as Lancelot's did? Or maybe it was his eyes…maybe his eyes were situated far too close together? Maybe Merlin didn't like the shade of them…or maybe the boy thought Arthur's skin was too tan? Arthur did spent a lot of time in the sun…he loved being outdoors. But perhaps Arthur could spend a few more afternoons inside, doing work at his desk and waiting for his complexion to get paler…

But Merlin wasn't stuck up…

He didn't seem like the type to rag on somebody because of how they looked.

No, Merlin was such a girl that he looked 'inwards', and decided whether or not he liked somebody by what they showed him. By the personality they showed to Merlin, by how they treated him. Merlin wouldn't have liked Lancelot simply because he was 'handsome'. He would have liked him for other reasons. Plus, Lancelot had literally saved Merlin's life when they first met…it would've made anybody starstruck. Even somebody that was as stubborn as his little consort always was. So, what other reasons had Merlin listed out as a reason for him to want to marry Lancelot…

Respect.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut tighter, until it felt like he was trying to sew the lids shut altogether…fucking respect. Merlin had told him that Lancelot's been 'respectful' to him. But what exactly did respect mean? Arthur had tried to do his damn best to respect Merlin, in his own little ways. Making sure he had the food he needed, asking him what he wanted when they gone on the date that Arthur had tricked him on, offering him drinks at the party before realizing he clearly didn't need anymore…those were respectful actions! …Weren't they? Or did Merlin mean something else…maybe it was the way Lancelot spoke to him that had attracted Merlin to him in the first place? Arthur hadn't heard Merlin and Lancelot speaking together often, he had mainly been fighting Lancelot to pay much attention. But the few times he could recall…yeah. Lancelot did talk to Merlin with respect. Perhaps not the respect befitting of his station, but the respect one used when talking to a friend, at least. He couldn't recall a single time in which he had caught Lancelot yelling at Merlin, or getting frustrated by the other boy, or even so much as raising his voice to Merlin!

Nothing would've been able to stop Arthur from painfully taking the head off of Lancelot's body if he had.

But Arthur could remember the 'thousand' of times he had yelled at Merlin for one reason or the other. The thousand of times Arthur had screamed until the prince had felt as if he was going blue in the face…for reasons he had thought made perfect sense at the time. But now…now…now, Arthur couldn't seem to come up with even ONE reason for why he had screamed at Merlin. Could not think of one excuse-because that was all they were, excuses-that made it okay to talk to Merlin like he had before he had known the truth. He could do better, he knew he could…he could speak without raising his voice. And he could find the perfect balance, where he could speak to Merlin without trying to taunt his consort into a fight like he had at the party. Lancelot seemed to already know how…surely Arthur could follow in his steps and do the same.

It was already killing him, thinking of looking at Lancelot for guidance on how he treated Merlin.

But then he thought back to all the interactions he had seen between Lancelot and Merlin. He thought about every damn smile he had seen Merlin throwing in Lancelot's direction, a smile just because he was happy and not because he'd gone and did something to get back at Arthur. Every encouraging nod Merlin's given Lancelot when they were on the training field, every time his consort had became a force to be reckoned with when he tried defending the knight. Every damn time Merlin had chosen to follow after the man, leaving Arthur behind as if he were a fool. But Arthur was…nothing more than a fool. A fool with stupidly blond locks that Arthur would spend far too much time tonight pulling at. Thick strands sliding through his hands as he clenched the hair between his fists till the bursts of pain in his scalp made him shudder with relief.

Merlin had said Lancelot was funny…

Arthur was never funny…

Merlin had said Lancelot had never hit him…

And Arthur would curl his legs into his chest until his knees were resting right beneath his chin. His entire body shaking with unkept shame, as if he'd been drenched in a terrible lightning storm, the cold soaking him down to the bone until it felt like his blood had turned to ice in his veins. His body would spasm right there in the hallway, one time or a thousand he would never know, alone and unsure of himself, with nobody willing to stand on the edge with him until they could pull him back from the danger. He would stay on the floor, holding a knuckle between his teeth, trying to muffle the desperate sounds he made, his lungs feeling as if they had gone two sizes too small and leaving him without enough air…

The morning light couldn't come fast enough.

But Arthur wished it had never came.

X

Arthur Pendragon walked across the grounds of the castle far too early that next morning. He felt sore all over, even though he hadn't done anything more than hiding himself in a ball like a scared little boy. He felt numb, as if he was truly unable to take anything more than what he had just spent his entire night enduring. He didn't feel right…not in the body, nor in the head. He dragged his feet across the cobblestones of the courtyard, knowing he looked like he was doing the walk of shame, still in yesterday's clothes, but literally having only two craps to give right about now. There were probably huge bags under his eyes, considering he hadn't slept a wink against that stupid wall, and his eyes were probably red rimmed to the extreme. But again…Arthur didn't have it in him to give a damn what others who saw him would think.

Arthur didn't give a damn about anything, actually.

Last night had been too much for him.

He felt overstimulated and overwhelmed.

He could hardly even keep his head lifted, and kept his eyes focused more on his feet than on what was going on around him. But if he had lifted his head up just a bit, perhaps he would've noticed the unusual ruckus going on. The men, his knights mainly, seemed to be on high alert. There were more of them in the courtyard than there usually was on an ordinary day, scattered about, rushing off in different directions. Considering last night's festivities had gone well into the night, it was HIGHLY unusual to have so many up and about. Many of them should have been fighting off hangovers right about now, hiding beneath their beddings until it became obnoxiously late to be dragging oneself from the bed.

This unusual activity could be attributed to a number of things, if he bothered to be concerned about it.

Perhaps a lady of the court had risen the alarm…it wouldn't be the first time a lady had blown a gasket and sent his men into overdrive because an expensive piece of jewelry had gone missing during the night. Sometimes it was found in a search of the room, where it had fallen beneath the bed or desk and the lady had been too drunk herself to notice. Sometimes it was actually a thief that did get prosecuted and jailed once they were caught. Perhaps the alarm had been raised because there was another attack…maybe the creature that plagued the kingdom had made itself known during the night. Maybe the beast had already made off with several members of his people, taking them to god knows where so he could feast on their livers and kidneys as if it were a meal. Arthur could hardly be bothered if it was the lady, but the beast was something that would need to be taken care of, even if Arthur was in no fit state of mind to deal with it.

But of course, that relied on Arthur knowing there was any trouble at all.

And Arthur was utterly clueless, lost in the numbness of his own mind, until he was reaching the staircase that led to the royal wing.

He didn't see the soldier until the other man was practically on top of him.

"Sire! Sire! Thank goodness! I've been looking around this entire castle trying to find you! It's a disaster I tell you, a complete and utter disaster! It's been an uproar ever since the news came out! And now nobody can find him and King Uther is furious! He could be anywhere right about now, stealing away secrets of the kingdom! Probably used last night's party as a diversion…" ranted a far more neurotic knight than they would usually allow in their ranks, bus his skills with a blade more than made up for his personality flaws. Though right now, all Arthur could do was stare blankly at the knight, the other man starting to slow down only after he realized Arthur wasn't getting it. 'Who' was trying to steal away state secrets? Nobody Arthur knew, that was for sure. There hasn't been any suspicious characters roaming the kingdom that he's seen. And while the prince couldn't trust his men to keep themselves away from his consort, it was still fairly certain that none of them had turned trainer on them…the other man looked at him awkwardly. As if Arthur should have already been informed bout the matter at hand. "…Err, the new knight, sire. The one that was knighted just last night…Lancelot. The king had his credentials checked out and they came back as false. Nobody knows who he really is, and we've been looking for him for a good few hours now. But if this is some sort of plot to get information on the kingdom, I'm starting to think he might have gotten whatever he needed to and stole away in the night before anybody discovered him."

One heartbeat…

Two heartbeats…

Three heartbeats…

Then Arthur was awake, as if he had been walking through quicksand all this time and only just now managed to break through the thickness trying so hard to encase him in its depths. Arthur physically jolted, the shockwave hitting at his heart was enough to sting him from his fingertips and down to the tips of his toes. All he could think was…Merlin. He had left Merlin, just walked away and left him behind, sleeping and unaware of the world about to shift beneath his feet at this realization. Arthur had left him behind with an impostor, with a scoundrel, with somebody Arthur had mistakenly thought he could trust with keeping an eye on Merlin. One of the only knights he would've trusted Merlin off too while he was in his delicate state…

"Gather the guards and get to the physician's chamber. Now."

Arthur didn't bother waiting for an answer, turning on his heel and racing back along the way he had just came from. His bones ached beneath his skin but he pushed himself anyway, till his thighs burned and it felt like his lungs wouldn't be able to keep up under the strain. And then he pushed himself some more to make sure he got there. He ducked and weaved around people dumb enough to get in his way. He jumped down entire flights of stairs just so he could get there faster. He even jumped over a small cabinet two serving boys were trying to cart down the hall between them. He didn't have time to go around people, he didn't have time to walk around them, he didn't have time to stop whenever he saw a guard who could help him apprehend Lancelot, he didn't have time to do anything. He was running off pure adrenaline.

And unimaginable fear.

More fear than he could remember feeling before.

Fear of the unknown…fear of the stranger he had left with Merlin.

It was really no wonder that nobody had managed to track down Lancelot in all the hours since the truth was discovered. Most of the new recruits were put to sleep in a separate quarters just off the training field, only allowed to get their own rooms within the castle once they've risen up in the ranks. But it wasn't a rule or law or anything that made the knights sleep there. There were plenty of other options…they could pay to rent a room at the inn if they wanted to have a bit of privacy that nobles were accustomed too. They could stay with friends or family that lived close to the area…they could even camp out somewhere in the damn woods if they desired. But how many new recruits had chosen to live in the physcian's chambers? How many of the new recruits would've wanted to live in the physician's chambers? It wasn't exactly the first place anybody else would've picked, which was why it was the perfect cover for somebody to stay at. Perfect for somebody to make a quick escape if everybody else was racing around in other places trying to track him down. Arthur would be surprised if Lancelot hadn't already seen the commotion going on from the windows, and realized it was for him.

But whatever Lancelot was doing here, whatever reason Lancelot had trying to fake his identity…it wasn't for state secrets. Or at least, Lancelot hadn't tried getting his hands on Camelot's personal information yet. Maybe he had been waiting until people were used to him, until he got some sort of standing in the kingdom so nobody would look at him twice if he was somewhere he shouldn't have been. The knight that had told Arthur about Lancelot…he'd been working under the assumption that Lancelot had used the party as a means to an end. But Arthur knew that wasn't true. Too much had been going on last night, but the knight in question had been with him for most of the evening. He'd been in the room when Arthur discovered the truth about Merlin's virginity, and Arthur had watched him for a good bit of the evening talking to Gwen, trying to mimic him for when he approached Merlin. And Lancelot had still been there after the party, helping Arthur get Merlin back to his chambers. So no, there wasn't any time for Lancelot to sneak away and try finding something they wouldn't want their enemies to know…where the escape tunnels under the castle were. What times the guards were on duty at the wall and who they were…special skills or weaknesses.

Did Lancelot come from Cenred's kingdom to spy on them…

Did Lancelot come from Mercia, perhaps to make sure Camelot wasn't doing anything fishy now that their treaty had been handled…

Or was he from somewhere else?

And where did Merlin fit into this…

Arthur clenched his jaw and put on another burst of speed, scaring a handful of laundry girls when he burst through the main doors, already bounding down the main staircase without a word to them. His brain was working on complete overdrive as he tried putting the imperfect pieces of the puzzle together in his mind…there were only two reasons Arthur could come up with for Lancelot and his involvement with Merlin. Either Lancelot was using Merlin as a cover…that'd be a perfect cover. Making sure he became friends with Camelot's consort and intermingling with the court through that friendship, making sure Arthur would even come to see him as-gag-somewhat trustworthy. It had to have been one hell of a coincidence for Lancelot to have saved Merlin's life when they met, or Lancelot had seen the opportunity for what it was and decided to use him. And it was already a coincidence that Lancelot managed to get tangled into Arthur thinking he was sleeping with Merlin, but the truth being found out would have only cemented his place in Camelot. But the other man already had his consort jumping to his defense whenever something happened…what would the other man be able to do to influence Merlin into helping him if he got caught? Would Merlin try to stop Arthur from arresting him, even after learning Lancelot's lied to him this entire time? Would Merlin try to do something reckless to stop what judgement Arthur's father gave to the imposter…it wouldn't be a light one. Any impersonation of a noble family was dealt with swiftly and harshly.

Which brought Arthur to the second possibility…

Maybe Lancelot had came all this way for Merlin in the first place….

It wouldn't be the strangest idea. People had traveled far and wide in order to assassinate Arthur over the years. He's had people from Camelot's boarder try to pay a mercenary or two to do away with him so they could make a bit for the throne once the only heir was out of the picture. Those threats had died down now that Arthur was considered a skilled swordsmen in his own right, but that didn't mean they didn't happen still. Just look at what had happened the last month, when that witch tried to kill him in order to get Merlin for herself. And it wasn't as if Arthur had been with Lancelot the 'whole night.' There'd been that moment where Arthur had stepped out to take time for himself, Lancelot never left the room. But that didn't mean he hadn't been working on something else. Merlin had been drunk…insanely drunk. Perhaps the serving girls were too star struck by Merlin to cut him off when he started getting too drunk, or perhaps Lancelot had been supplying Merlin with more drinks than he could handle. His consort had practically been dead weight, happy and giddy and willing to start following anybody who gave him a helping hand. If Arthur hadn't shown up the time he did…would Lancelot have used the opportunity to smuggle Merlin out of the kingdom for whatever purposes he had in mind?

Torturing him to get the kind of information a spy would want instead of doing the hard work of digging through the archives. Information Merlin wouldn't be able to give him. Perhaps killing him off somewhere more private, where he'd be able to escape after the deed was done and not be interrupted somewhere in the middle of it. Perhaps it was even worse than that…maybe Lancelot was somebody from the black market? Wanting to sell Merlin off to the highest of bidders. A Royal consort being up for sale would have raked in the gold, and a virgin one at that…people would pay a bundle just to get a taste of what they thought Arthur had. People would actually pay an obnoxious amount for about anything, and rare as it actually was, Arthur had heard the stories about noble children who had wandered too far from home and gotten snagged before they could be found by their guards.

Merlin could end up as one of them…

Gaius' tower looked ahead of him, and Arthur ran as if his life depended on it, hardly noticing the four or five knights joining him, one of them being that one knight that had informed him of the truth…

X

Merlin Pendragon thought his entire world was ending in smoke and fire…or at least, it most certainly felt like it when he finally started waking up. He felt stiff all over, and he wasn't even sure if he was alive at first. His fingers twitching at his sheets, but being too weak to grasp them fully. His face was buried deep in his pillow, and everything about the air tasted stale. Or maybe it was only him tasting stale. His tongue certainly tasted something awful, as if he had licked a cat's backside or something else that was just as gross. He tried his hardest to pry his eyes open, but it felt as if they were sewn shut. He only managed a tiny crack before he groaned, squeezing them shut again when a burst of light that streamed into the room from his windows tried to kill him.

Fuck…was this what dying felt like?

He had to be dying to feel this awful…

Where the fuck was he?

Merlin was pretty sure he was in his bed, tucked away in the room he had at his uncle's place, but everything felt kind of woozy. As if the room had started to sway, and he wished it would just stop. He wished somebody would go and close those damn shutters so the light wouldn't be causing his sharp migraine to stab beneath his eyelids like daggers piercing him again and again…Merlin certainly didn't remember coming home last night. He also couldn't remember what happened last night, but then again…he was also having trouble feeling his toes and his fingers. Fuck! Had something gone wrong last night? Had he been poisoned all over again? This felt different than the last time he had been poisoned, considering last night felt like nothing but a blank void of darkness he couldn't hope to comprehend…but what did Merlin know about the different kinds of poisons? Maybe there was a poison that wiped a man's memory while it slowly drained them of their life. If there was such a poison, Merlin was most positive that he must've drunken a barrel full of the stuff. Perhaps even two of them, if the state of his mouth was anything to go by…

Something grabbed at his sheets…

Something pulled on them from the side…

Something that was most definitely not Merlin, considering both of his hands had been accounted for…

But Merlin didn't give a damn about what odd creature was trying to rid away the bedding beneath him. He just knew his sheets were moving, making him jolt against the bed, and his entire face turned a sickly color of green. It was one thing to feel as if his bed was moving beneath him, but it was apparently a whole other thing to actually feel it starting to move behind him. He could feel his sickness coming up, and Merlin practically vaulted from the bed, stomping all over the fiend laid out on his bedroom floor in order to get where he needed to go. The creature yelped as Merlin's bare foot stomped on its face but it was ignored as Merlin grabbed onto his washing bucket poised next to the window. And then he was throwing up, watery bile spewing from his mouth in this large wave that felt like it was never going to end. He was gagging, the stink of it felt like it would be enough to make him sick all over again. He needed to expel the crap sitting in his stomach, but it burned coming up. He could even feel it burn his nostrils. God, what Merlin would give for somebody to run a hand through his hair right about now, brush away the bangs sticking to his forehead, all his sweat feeling like it had glued it in place. A hand down his back would've been nice, a comforting male voice whispering in his ear that everything was going to be alright once Merlin got this junk out of him…

Merlin spewed one more time before he felt like everything had settled.

Groaning, Merlin wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, screwing up his face at whatever leftover bile was clinging to his skin, before pulling himself out of the wash basket. But not too far away…he felt settled right now, but that was liable to change at a moment's notice, and he didn't want to spew his own bile somewhere harder to clean than a bucket. He still felt exhausted, landing on his backside with a heavy thud that took far more out of him than it would have on an ordinary way. Fuck…his head was still hurting as if he had gotten a good smacking, the place behind his eyelids throbbed dangerously, and it was threatening him with another round of sick. But unlike before, Merlin was able to swallow it back down, squeezing his eyes shut until the wave of nausea was able to pass him by.

Fuck…

At least Merlin was now able to confirm he was in his room…he could see all of his belongings through his squinted eyes. The sun didn't seem as bright as it'd been before, hurting him a little less with its vibrancy. He felt like he had gone through hell, but his room seemed to look the same as it always did. The same wardrobe with its slanted door, where he knew his meager amount of clothes were. The chest pushed against his wall that held the royal clothes he would only ever wear when necessary. His bed was still in place, and not moving like he had sworn it was, though the sheets were far messier than he would usually allow them these days. His bedside table was still there…with that stupid little lotus flower box Arthur had given him perched on the edge because he'd been refusing to touch it. And…was that his pants on the ground…yeah. Merlin could see where his pants had gone, laid out in a crumble at the foot of his bed, his cape and boots abandoned nearby…funny. Merlin hadn't even realized he was in his underwear until now, but it certainly explained why he was so stiff. The consort doubted the black tunic he was wearing had been designed for being slept in.

And there was something else too…

Lancelot was sitting somewhat across from him, looking not much better than Merlin himself was, slouched against his bed frame and rolling around the pain in his shoulders after a tough night on the hard floor. But at least it looked as if Lancelot had managed to change at some point during the night, though it still left Merlin confused about why Lancelot was sleeping on his bedroom floor. It was his normal attire that Lancelot wore, the dirt stained white tunic that had a wide opening in the neck and bared a good bit of his chest. And the thin brown woolen pants Lancelot had been wearing the day he arrived. His boots tucked off to the side neatly, only waiting for Lancelot to put them back on so that he can start the day on a much better note than Merlin was

"W-what are you doing in here?"

Merlin's voice came out all croaky, and god, did it hurt him to speak. His throat felt raw and dry, as if speaking was enough to make it start bleeding…what the hell had he gotten into last night? He tried remembering back…the throbbing behind his eyelids made it more difficult than it should've been. Had he…he'd been with Arthur at some point, hadn't he? He could remember the prat being in his face, could remember him screaming at him about something, but all his words sounded jumbled and thick in Merlin's memory. As if Arthur had spoken in an accent Merlin couldn't make heads or tails of. And had Merlin…had Merlin hit him? He was fairly certain he had hit him, he could still feel the hard, steady weight of the goblet in his hand. But after that…what had happened after he'd hit Arthur? It was so jumbled…he could remember bits and pieces…could see tufts of blond hair in his vision. Could feel himself swaying, though it was also different than when his bed had felt like it turned into a boat. And then…then it was nothing….

"Your uncle insisted that I camp up here tonight after we got home. I wanted to stay downstairs, but he didn't want to hear me wrenching if I woke up with the same sickness that you'rere experiencing, Merlin." Lancelot answered with the same croaky tone Merlin had used, rubbing deeply at his eye with the palm of his hand as if he was experiencing the same headache Merlin was. Though the consort didn't know how anybody could survive from the pounding alone…was this a hangover? Merlin didn't think he'd ever experienced a hangover before…the little ale they could get to Ealdor wasn't nearly as strong as whatever he'd been consuming last night. "Though it looks as if Gaius shouldn't have been all that worried about me last night. You probably ended up drinking enough for the both of us, with the way you were going. Drinking the ale as if it would be the same as drinking water."

Ugh, Merlin groaned under his breath and raised his hand to press the center of his forehead as if it would help him remember anything that Lancelot said to him. But still…nothing but darkness and flashes of blond hair…though he swore he still tasted a hint of ale on his tongue. Buried somewhere beneath all of the bile that threatened to make him spew all over again. But at least Lancelot was making sense about something…of course Gaius would make him sleep here to avoid the pangs of dealing with something they'd done to themselves. The last time Merlin could remember them having this conversation, Lancelot had been refusing to sleep in the same room as Merlin. Something about it being entirely too improper for a peasant man such as himself, to sleep in the same chamber Merlin had taken as his own. But it seemed as if Lancelot wasn't carrying that same hang-up anymore. Maybe the drink last night had weakened his resolve and he had been in no fit state to argue with Gaius the night before. Or maybe Lancelot was starting to look at Merlin less like the consort and more as if they were friends. Lancelot already knew more about him than Gwen did…it wasn't everybody that Merlin felt comfortable enough to tell about the real reason he had married Arthur in the first place.

"…You don't remember anything that happened last night, do you?"

Lancelot's voice brought Merlin back to his room, and the consort gave a dirty look to the other boy. Here Merlin was, trying to summon why he kept thinking about blond hair gleaming in the moonlight, and there Lancelot was giving him a funny look. Merlin wasn't entirely sure what to make of it…did Lancelot know something? Lancelot had been there with him last night, he was pretty sure of that, though it was only a vague sense of knowing. Something inside that told him it was true, even though he didn't have any real memory of it. God…Merlin really hoped he hadn't made another scene. Hitting Arthur was bad enough, it was practically to be expected though, at this point. But what else did Merlin get himself involved with? Merlin had heard stories from the older boys back in Ealdor that had managed to get their hands on the good stuff, and it had never seemed to end well for them.

"…did I make a fool out of myself."

It was the only thing Merlin could manage to get out, his mind already thinking of the many things he could've somehow gotten into. Perhaps Merlin had took off running throughout the party room, hands thrown in the air as he shrieked like some kind of loon. Perhaps Merlin had climbed onto one of the tables and gave a rousing speech about how much he hated Arthur and wished he'd never been married to the jerk. Perhaps he went even further and…did Merlin end up hugging someone last night? Merlin's brows furrowed together in the center of his forehead…he had the vague impression of wrapping his arms around a man far wider than he himself was. And feeling…inexplicably safe within the warmth of that embrace. But hard as he tried, Merlin just could not conjure up who the person could be…hell. Maybe he was thinking about this too hard, and it's only Lancelot he'd been hugging. Embarrassing as that would be, Lancelot did feel like the only man, other than his uncle, that he truly trusted. With some of his secrets and his life.

"Oh…no more than you usually do. I mean, Morgana and Gwen will most likely have a few things to tell you, but I think they thought you amusing. But I count it as a win, you didn't exactly start stripping until you got back to your room at least." Lancelot said, giving another funny look at Merlin's bare legs that Merlin was too tired to try and figure out. But Merlin still groaned, watching whenever Lancelot's odd look faded away…his cheeks burned. He could only imagine the strange things he must've said to Morgana and Gwen…god. What they must've been thinking about him. Merlin didn't know what he had done, but he knew it couldn't have been anything good, if Lancelot's suddenly cheeky grin told him anything. "But hey, don't take my word for it. Come downstairs with me, there is surely Gaius waiting to tell you all about what a cute drunk you made."

…Lancelot was hiding something from him, Merlin could see that in his face and the way he evaded telling Merlin exactly what went on last night by giving him the distraction that was Gaius. Lancelot was pulling on his boots while the consort looked vaguely disturbed…cute? What did Lancelot mean by…being a cute drunk? What the hell did being a cute drunk even mean! God…WHAT THE HELL HAD HE DONE LAST NIGHT! Was there some kind of spell Merlin could find in his magic book that would be able to shed some light on his hours and hours of missing memories? Some kind of spell that would play back for him all he had done. Each agonizing, excruciating memory that had been lost with the void of his drink. There had to be something. But then again…maybe it ended up being something Merlin didn't want to remember. God, he hadn't tried to do magic, had he? No…he would've woken up in a jail cell if he had tried anything like that…yeah, Merlin decided as Lancelot rose to his feet. He really didn't like being drunk. Sure, he had forgotten his life for a few hours, but the all the side effects he was dealing with didn't seem worth it.

And then Lancelot was there, looming over him and casting a shadow over the consort's much more petite form. Merlin squinted up at him as if he was some kind of great beast of a man, larger than a mountain…how did Lancelot stand up so steadily? Merlin was sitting down and still felt like the world was going to tumble out from under his bottom at any given moment. But it seemed as if the other man had been serious about them going downstairs…the thought of any breakfast made Merlin's belly swoop dangerously…because Lancelot reached down and grabbed Merlin under his arms. He lifted Merlin up effortlessly, and the consort barely got the tips of his toes to settle on the wooden floor before he stumbled. But Lancelot was there to help him, steadying him with this firm hand on his back that Merlin was almost thankful for. The blistering heat from Lancelot's hand steadied him, and as the two of them stumbled the way to the door, Merlin gave a weak smile. It seemed Lancelot was not as unaffected as Merlin had thought he was, needing to hold onto the doorframe before he fell through it with his uneven pace.

He was just better at holding his liquor than Merlin was.

"I honestly don't know how much you have already drunk by the time I found you. But by the empty goblets beside you that the servants were trying to get cleaned up, I imagine you must've drunk an entire barrel of ale if you put it all together." Lancelot was telling him as they managed their way down the stairs from Merlin's room, gripping onto the railing as if it was the only thing holding them both from toppling headfirst. "I know I had a few drinks with you after all that, but I swear you must've drunk a few more when I had my back turned. As I still don't know how you managed to accumulate so many cups in only a few seconds. But you definitely had the opportunity. I swear, the servants wouldn't leave you alone for even a second when I was with you. I actually had to force you away at some point, before you drunk yourself into a coma."

Ugh…Merlin didn't even want to think about last night anymore, he decided as they reached the bottom of the staircase. The servants had been behaving so strangely around him since Merlin had recovered from the poison and started walking around again, but he was sure Lancelot was exaggerating about them 'flocking around him' or whatever he had said. Strange as the servants were, it was hardly going to end with them actually wanting to be around him. And if it was true, he was sure last night and whatever he had done must've ruined any good thoughts they might've had lingering about him…fuck it all. The one and only thing Merlin wanted to do, was bury his face into the back of Lancelot and his broad shoulder and block out the rest of the day. He really needed to take a whole day just to recuperate from his drunken shenanigans.

"Good evening gentlemen. It looks like the two of you have had a rough night, but I suppose that's what happens when you come wondering in through the front door at the witching hour." Gaius announced, sounding entirely too bright considering the pain Merlin was in, as he appeared in front of them. The young consort eyed him beadily…the witching hour? Merlin hadn't known it had been that late when they'd came home. But Gaius didn't seem at all upset about the wake up call they must've given him. In fact, Gaius seemed as if he was far too amused at their expense. "Here you both go, I brewed this for you special. But I warn you, don't look at it, don't smell it, just down it in one gulp if you have a hope of keeping it down with whatever's left in your stomachs."

And then Gaius was handing both Lancelot and Merlin, already pre-made and waiting for them, goblets. He was surprised he didn't drop the cup as soon as it was handed to him, his hand feeling much weaker than it should. And Merlin knew Gaius had said not to look, but it was hard not to look at the strange and possibly deadly concoction Gaius had just handed to them. The drink was now bubbling for god sake, some kind of fizz brimming on the top that made it look as if it was going to bubble over, maybe it would end up burning a hole straight through the lining of his stomach. Merlin shared an uncertain look with the boy beside him, and it was clearly neither one of them was entirely sure about this one. But Lancelot took the plunge first, holding his nose and downing the cup before he could think twice about it. Only after watching Lancelot shudder, did Merlin decide to do the same and drown his cup.

The effect was almost instantaneous, leaving Merlin gagging at the mountain rush of liquid that had just been poured down his throat. He didn't know what the hell Gaius had put in that thing, but it was probably the worse thing Merlin had ever tasted in his life. Like rotten fruit mixed with graveyard dirt that had been mixed with troll snot. Just something so foul, Merlin was surprised when he didn't immediately spit it all back out. But he could feel it, settling deep in his stomach like a heavy, warm weight that wouldn't lift. And his beard was not hurting as much as it had been. Perhaps a twinge every now and then, it could hardly do everything, but it no longer felt as if his brain was trying to split into two, tearing itself apart at the seams. He still wished he had something so he could brush his tongue clean though, remove the remnants clinging to all his taste buds.

"I'm sure that perked the two of you right up. I haven't met a man yet that did not feel better after trying my hangover cure. I perfected it back in my youth, you know." Gaius said, still as bright as ever as he smiled at them, and now the consort had trouble imagining his uncle as a youth. He always seemed as if he had just…popped into existence exactly as he was. Which was why Merlin had even more trouble imagining his uncle as somebody who needed to practice a hangover cure enough times that he had made his own. "And we can hardly be at fault for Lancelot nodding off on his first day as a knight. The first is always the toughest. They'll probably work you down to the bone today, just to decide on where you'll be stationed or what your main duties will be."

Gaius was looking at Lancelot as he said this, nodding his head to the newest knight, not looking as if he was angry at Merlin anymore for interfering in the knight's code to begin with. And Merlin perked up, his head swirling around to look at Lancelot with a bright smile. Maybe Merlin couldn't remember exactly what had happened yesterday, but he could damn well remember that today is the first day of the rest of their lives. The first day in which Lancelot would be able to fulfill his dreams, become something bigger than what his birth would have allowed him to be. Merlin didn't have time hanging around wondering on last night's events. He had to spend his day doing what he always did, waiting impatiently for Lancelot to return that evening so the older boy could tell him all about how his first day had gone. But first…if Lancelot was going to become a knight, they best all start treating him like one. After all, Lancelot had earned his spot in the ranks of knighthood, stupid knight's code or not.

"That is Sir Lancelot, if you don't mind. A knight deserves a title, do they not?"

Merlin's wicked grin had the two other men breaking into laughter, and all the noise washed over the consort, making his tired muscles relax. Yeah, thought Merlin as he glanced from his uncle to his new friend, he could certainly find a way to get used to this. Mornings that ended in happy laughter as Lancelot bid them his goodbyes before leaving for his duties. Why…it had to be late already and Merlin had hardly done any of them usual things he would've done by this point. His bed was still unmade, and not at all tucked under the mattress with the same precision of an army man. He hadn't had his daily breakfast of small fruits and side of meat, though at least the reason he wouldn't be able to keep the food down had nothing to do with his eating problems. He hadn't started his daily study on whatever book he could get his hands on this day. And hell…Merlin hadn't even tried touching himself when he left his bedroom today, and not just because Lancelot had been there guiding him out. Usually, Merlin had started a morning ritual that involved him pressing his fingers on the different spots of his thigh, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong compared to what Arthur had done to him all those weeks ago. But he hadn't even thought of it till just now.

And that was progress…

Loosening up the reins on the strict schedule he had been keeping before it'd been largely interrupted by Lancelot's presence.

If he could only keep it up though…

But Merlin should've known…whenever good things started to happen, there was always something twice as worse to follow behind it. And trouble came as the door suddenly swung open, with enough force to smash l into the wall just behind it. Merlin's smile dropped in an instant, he hardly noticed when several of the guards streamed into the room as if they were on a mission, blocking off the exits in one fell swoop and trapping the three of them like a spider trapped a fly in its web. Ice filled Merlin's veins when he saw Arthur…when was the last time Merlin had seen Arthur look so angry? When was the last time he'd seen Arthur's fists shaking before he took a swing at something, the last time Merlin had seen that rabid snarl on Arthur's face that transformed him from a man to a beast. But for the first time, Arthur's anger wasn't being launched at him. For the first time, it wasn't Merlin that should've feared the prince.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU NO GOOD, ABSOLUTE BASTARD! I TRUSTED YOU AND ALLOWED YOU INTO MY KINGDOM, INTO MY CONSORT'S LIFE. AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME! WITH SECRETS AND LIES AND TRICKERY! I SHOULD'VE HANGED YOU THE MOMENT YOI SHOWED UP HERE!" Arthur was bellowing so loud, that Merlin's ears were ringing…he was helpless to do anything with this ire of Arthur's so intense. It was as if his body had seized up, his joints and his muscles going frozen…sending him back in time. Back to the days where he'd be silent and still, cowering every time Arthur so much as looked his direction. He had thought he was past this, thought he was getting stronger by the day, but…perhaps it was only because Arthur hadn't been this furious in quite the long time. And now that he was…Merlin didn't know what to do. "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOINF WITH MERLIN BEHIND MY BACK! WHAT HAVE YOU GONE TELLING HIM! WHAT WERE YOU PLANNING ON DOING WITH HIM THE VERY SECOND I DECIDE TO LET MY GUARD DOWN AROUND YOU!"

And Merlin watched, eyes wide and scared as Arthur swung out his tight fist as hard as he could, it collided with Lancelot's jawline before the other knight could ask what was going on. It was a tough hit, and it sent Lancelot down to the floor, too surprised himself to try defending himself from the sudden blow to his face. And Arthur probably would've continued too, Merlin could only just imagine the prince raining down blow after blow on Lancelot's face. Getting on top of him and transforming Lancelot's face into a bloody mess. If only Merlin hadn't reacted to flesh striking flesh, if only Merlin hadn't reacted to the sound of Lancelot's body hitting the floor. If only Merlin hadn't tried to do something to stop this before it turned into a blood bath.

"ARR YOU ABSOLUTELY CRAZY! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL, ARTHUR! THERE IS NO EXCUSES FOR ENTERING SOMEBODY ELSE'S HOME AND ATTACKING THEM OUT ON NOWHERE!" Merlin shrieked madly, jolted from his fear due to his concern over Lancelot and his well-being. Merlin tried to race to the fallen warrior's side…he needed Lancelot. Needed to help him. Needed to protect his friend from Arthur's rage the best he could. But Arthur turned away from their new knight, and didn't hesitate to seize Merlin around the waist with both of his arms, dragging him away from Lancelot. Merlin immediately flipped out as he started to struggle, wiggling against Arthur's hold and pushing at his arms to force him to let him go. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, ARTHUR! LET ME GO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT YOU FUCKING BASTARD! WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH HIM! LET GO OF HIM!"

One minute, Merlin had been screaming over the chaos happening around him in a mad rage, trying to fight off Arthur's steel cage like some kind of crazed animal. Twisting and turning and throwing himself in every which direction just to break free of the iron bars refusing to release him. Scrambling and trying to scratch up Arthur's arm, hoping the pain would make him flinch and give him an opening of some kind to use. But all that stopped when Merlin saw two of the four guards grabbing Lancelot beneath his arms and hauling him up to his feet without a word. They dragged his arms behind his back as if he was some kind of common criminal, frog marching him out of the room as if he'd already been sentenced for some unimaginable crime. Only one guard stopped, with a cautious glance at Arthur, before speaking to Merlin.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. But this was under the orders of the king. Lancelot is being taken to face judgement in front of the court, I'm sure they'll let you there so you can watch the proceedings happening." Said the knight…Knight Derrick, it was. One of the few knights that Merlin had actually found tolerable before his crew had dragged Lancelot out of here by his arms. Knight Derrick was usually a funny fella, laid back in a way that wasn't infuriating. But he actually looked solemn today, as if he was sorry Merlin had to witness what had just happened and didn't have all the answers. Derrick still glanced cautiously over the top of Merlin's head, to the stormy expression Arthur was sporting. "Err…if our prince allows you too, of course. I'm sure he'll probably have more information on the matter than I do. I was only given the basic intel before the search party begin …"

Arthur's stormy expression became too much for even Knight Derrick, and the other man scurried away after him comrades, leaving Merlin alone with Arthur and his uncle. The silence afterwards was almost deafening, and Merlin tried in vain to sear his glare into the floor beneath him. He was breathing ragged…held up on his legs only by Arthur's arms around him, and all he could think is …how did this happen? It was just seconds earlier that everybody was happy, the atmosphere light and friendly as Merlin and Lancelot fought through their hangovers. How could everything have changed in the second that it took for a heart to beat. How could everything have ended up the way that it did. Merlin being held captive, Lancelot being carted away for god knows what, and their so called 'prince' in the center of it all…their bloody prince. Arthur. Merlin felt his eyes narrowing into slits, finding the rightful target of his rage, and so the consort twisted in Arthur's arms, already screaming his heart out as loud as he could.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU JUST DO, ARTHUR! WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THAT! YOU MIGHT BE A BLOODY PRINCE BUT YOU CAN'T JUST GO AND ARREST WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT! WAS THIS YOUR WHOLE PLAN TO BEGIN WITH! DID YOU ONLY KNIGHT LANCELOT SO YOU CAN TAKE HIM OFF IN THE WORSE WAY IMAGINABLE! DID YOU WANT ME TO BE HAPPY JUST SO YOU CAN RUIN IT!" Merlin's entire body was trembling with all his rage trying to overtake him. He threw himself at Arthur in his grasp, slamming his fist any place he could get them. Slamming them again and again into the hard plains of Arthur's chest, his biceps, his muscles. Anywhere he could reach didn't get spared from the onslaught. "HOW COULD YOU! IT'S BAD ENOUHH THAT YOU WRECK MY LIFE, BUT YOU BLOODY WELL KNEW HOW MUCH HE WANTED TO BE A KNIGHT! AND THEN YOU USE THAT AGAINST HIM? YOU DRAG HIM INTO WHAT YOUR PROBLEMS WITH ME ARE! HOW COULD YOU! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT YOU UNFEELING BASTARD! THIS IS A NEW LOW EVEN FOR YOU OF ALL PEOPLE, ARTHUR PENDRAGON-"

For the longest minute, Arthur hadn't done anything to defend himself against the hits Merlin landed on him. He almost didn't seem to be affected by them at all, not even a grunt escaping him when Merlin hit a particularly sensitive spot on his chest. And that only infuriated Merlin more. Getting nothing from Arthur other than a blank expression. Frighteningly blank. Merlin had been right when he called the prince an 'unfeeling bastard.' How could he look at Merlin in clear distress, and not give a shit that he was the one that caused it? Though Merlin supposed it was the same way Arthur could do everything else. How he could accuse Merlin of things, hold him down when he didn't want to be, attack him whenever he damn well pleased…but something flickered in Arthur's face and Merlin was finally interrupted in mid-yell. By Arthur grabbing onto his elbows to stop Merlin's hits, the prince jerking Merlin closer to get his attention.

"HE'S BEEN LYING TO YOU!" Arthur screamed back at him, his arms tightening around Merlin's elbows before loosening. And Merlin blinked in astonishment at what he had just heard, the red tinged vision he'd been having starting to go away…lying to him? That was utterly ridiculous, as far as Merlin had ever been concerned. Merlin had only known Lancelot for a few days, true, but he felt as if he had known the other man his entire life. Something like that didn't end up forged through lies. And besides, Lancelot was an honorable man. A good man to the core. One of the best. And honorable men didn't go around lying to their friends. "Now, I know what I'm about to tell you is going to be touch, and it will probably be hard to understand, but you need to know. This man's only trying to use you. I should've seen it. It's not the first time somebody has tried to get what they wanted by getting close to a royal member. You haven't even been a consort for half a year yet, of course you would've been blinded by what really happened. Would you like me to tell you, without jumping down my throat this time?"

Merlin's eyes wavered, not entirely sure what to make about all this…he hadn't understood half of what Arthur had been saying. But he had lowered his voice, talking in a tone that was like a gentle caress. The kind of tone one used when trying to coax a wild animal into surrendering to the people who wanted to try helping it. Arthur had been unusually complicit of late, bar a few odd incidents here and there. Allowing Merlin to scream to his heart's content, letting him do all the throwing that he wanted, letting Merlin set the way things were going to be from here on out. But there was a subtle change to the prince now, this sort of strange look in his eye. Merlin wasn't going to be allowed to scream at him today, not right now at least. But unlike before, when Arthur would try coming at Merlin with his fists, Merlin had a feeling that Arthur would walk out if they couldn't have a calm discussion. Merlin thinned his lips, his fingers flexing with the urge to hit Arthur again, but he swallowed it down before he could let the rage still pumping through his veins control him. And he gave the other man a single, short nod in agreement. He needed to agree, if he wanted to be of any help to Lancelot.

"He's not really the fifth son of Lord Eldred. These IS no fifth son from the lord Eldred of Northumbria. In fact, I'm pretty sure there never was one. This man…Lancelot, if that even is his real name, definitely isn't related to him. He could be literally anyone and he…" Arthur paused, looking away from Merlin's rapidly paling face. He squeezed his hands around Merlin's elbows again, perhaps this was some weird way of comforting him? Merlin couldn't be sure considering it was Arthur, of all people. "…He got too close to you on my watch. I know that it a lot to take in, and how upsetting this must be. Lancelot pretended to be your friend, and it has to hurt. But I need you too…I need you to stay here with your uncle, just this once. Okay. So that I can…so that I can protect you from such an imposter. Alright?"

Although Arthur asked him a question, Merlin didn't think he was expecting an actual answer. Which was probably a good thing, because Merlin didn't think it was possible for him to answer. He was pretty sure he was going to be sick for the fifth time this morning, and it had nothing to do with what remained of his hangover. He couldn't move even as Arthur eyed him with that strange look in his eye…something Merlin couldn't begin to pick apart but caused his ribcage to feel tight around his chest. And then Arthur did something completely out of character for himself…he reached up a brushed a finger through the bangs of Merlin's hair. Brushing the long strands out of the way so they weren't just hanging limply in Merlin's eyes…

What the fuck…

Why was Arthur touching him…

Why was Arthur looking at him…

Why was any of this even happening…

Oh, right. Because Merlin had completely forgotten in all the excitement that Lancelot's achievements had been because of fraud. Because Merlin had all but forgotten that Lancelot was only where he was because Merlin had used his magic to forge the proper paperwork for him. Because MERLIN had been the one to convince Lancelot lying was the only way he was going to achieve his dreams.

Merlin just hadn't been prepared for Lancelot to pay the price of that.

X

Lancelot NoLastName, found himself forced down on his knees inside the near empty throne room. Perhaps the king didn't want the embarrassment of what actually happened under his own nose to be made into a public spectacle, but whatever the reason, there was only a few people. Instead of the full court that he had been expecting, because unlike Merlin, he had already known what the only reason for his arrest could be. He hadn't done anything else to warrant all of this…the guards standing at his back as if he was going to be able to try and fight them after they'd cuffed his hands behind his back in iron shackles. King Uther was sitting on his golden throne, looking down his nose at Lancelot as if he was some kind of misshapen flea. Geoffrey, the court records keeper, stood beside his throne chair. And then of course, there was Arthur. Arthur had made it to the room not long after Lancelot had, looking haggard, as if he had ran all the way there from Gaius' chambers. But he still had the energy to glare down his nose at Lancelot, looking so much like his father while he stood beside him that it was almost uncanny.

Lancelot didn't know where to look.

Didn't know where he should look.

His hands twitched helplessly behind his back.

And he tried to not show how scared he was.

"Tell him what you told me."

Uther's cold word to Geoffrey almost made Lancelot flinch where he was. The other man had never been in this kind of position before. Sure, he'd been in a few scrapes before. It was almost impossible when one was a lone traveler, so many people on the roads wanting to take advantage of him to get what little he had. But he had never been in this kind of legal trouble before. Lancelot's never been arrested a day in his life, had never felt the hard weight of shackles around his wrists. A bead of sweat slid from his hairline and down the long line of his neck, disappearing somewhere beneath his shirt, where it could hide all it wanted from Uther Pendragon's penetrating gaze.

"These credentials are faked." Geoffrey announced, holding up papers that the former knight recognized as the same papers Merlin had given to him all those days ago. The ones that claimed Lancelot belonged to a noble bloodline. "The seal itself is actually faultless. It's a forgery of the highest possible standard, I am honestly astounded that something like it could even exist considering how perfect it is. If you hadn't suspected something was amiss, sire, then it could have gone unchecked for years. But nonetheless, a forgery it has to be. I have checked every source and record in my library, and there doesn't seem to be a single mention of Lord Eldred having a fifth son."

Lancelot squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his blood freezing in his veins as the situation hit him hard. It was one thing to know he'd been caught already, but it was an entirely different matter to have his crimes being laid out like this. He tried to think about what the punishment for forgery was…did it mean his hand was going to get cut off so he would never be able to forge paperwork again in his life…Lancelot couldn't be a swordsman with only one hand. It would kill his future in an instant…if he even had one to begin with. Lancelot was pretty sure the punishment for forgery was bad, but the punishment for impersonating any nobleman was so much worse. Execution, was a favorable choice. Lancelot felt the pulse point in his neck give a violent flutter at this.

"Do you deny it?"

Uther's cold tone made little pinpricks form on Lancelot's biceps, and the man squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. He took a steadying breath, and he tried to remember the good things that had happened since coming to the city all of those days ago. How he had met Gwen, in her little house as she measured his frame as a favor to her dear friend. How Gwen had confessed her fears to him, as if he would condemn her instead of seeing her for the brave woman she'd been. How Gwen had given him her favor, how she had allowed him to talk to her throughout the party just the evening before. Her beautiful skin and those kind eyes, wasting her time on somebody as ordinary as him. And that's just Gwen…Lancelot had many moments with Merlin as well. From their very first meeting, from waking up and having Merlin listen to his dreams without giving him judgement for it. Learning who he really was, discovering the truth about his marriage, given to him in a desperate confession to a near stranger. Merlin had given Lancelot his trust that day, instead of trying to cover it up. And he'd swore he'd do anything to protect that boy from anymore harm. Do anything to protect him when others wouldn't. Lancelot already knew he was going to be condemning himself with his next words, but there was no denying what was the truth.

"No, sire."

There was a gasp from somewhere behind him, one of the knights had made his shock evident. As if he had truly thought this was some kind of horrid and untrue misunderstanding. He clearly hadn't been expecting for Lancelot to go confessing his crimes. But as Lancelot had thought, these accusations against him were true. He didn't have any right to lie about the truth. He had been fully aware of the consequences if he got caught, had been aware of what he would be putting on the line…his life, his honor, his dignity. The only thing that could be done now, was Lancelot owning up to it. Even if the fear held him still, even if the fear of what was going to happen made ice form around his veins, even if it hurt to breathe from the pressure inside his chest. Lancelot was going down ready for his crimes. He could at least die under his own name, whether than the noble one Merlin had fashioned for him.

"So, Lancelot, if that even is your real name, exactly who are you? Why've you came to the kingdom. Why did you decide to play this little charade? I'm sure there are a multitude of reasons for somebody lying just to get into this castle, but I dare say these circumstances make you look especially suspicious." Said the king sharply, and Lancelot's shoulders flexed and twisted, unable to go any further with the handcuffs holding them behind his back. He'd been expecting to be carted back up to his feet, and dragged down to the cells to await for his execution method to be decided. The chopping block or the pyre. Maybe they would have him be publicly stoned, or hanged by his neck. "Are you a spy from one of our rival kingdoms? Have you came all this way just to get yourself into our ranks! Did you plan on stealing away Camelot's secrets and feeding them to whoever you work for! Is this some part to a larger plan that involves your people raiding MY KINGDOM!"

Uther's voice had gotten progressively louder, until he was nearly screaming down at Lancelot in the same way his son had been screaming at Lancelot in their previous confrontation. And Lancelot could only look up at the king, his judge and jury and executor on a golden throne, with rounded eyes…a spy? It was a much larger problem than he had thought it was…they thought he was a fucking soy. Come to the kingdom to plan some kind of coup that would end with Camelot and the royal family overthrown. It was no wonder the prince had attacked him like he had this morning…he thought Lancelot was a threat that needed to be taken care of. But it was almost laughable…him? A spy? Lancelot had never even been out of the kingdom before, he certainly hadn't gone and had secret meetings with other nobles that wanted the throne. He hadn't even talked to a noble before he had entered Camelot City. Not to mention, Lancelot couldn't lie to save his life. He would make a terrible spy. It was only pure luck that had gotten him this far. He should've known that luck would run out quite soon, whether than later.

"I'm…I'm…" Lancelot stuttered for a moment, trying to get his brain to work on how to fix this misunderstanding. He was sure he was going to be tortured and brutalized if they thought he was a spy, which was even worse than just going to his death. It would be a painful end for him, if he couldn't convince him that he didn't have nefarious purposes in mind with his actions. But…who exactly is Lancelot? Lancelot was a simple boy from a small village that didn't even exist anymore, a small boy that had grown into a man and decided to follow the way of the sword. He wasn't anything more than that. But Sir Lancelot, a fifth son to Lord Eldred of Northumbria was meant to be something more than that. He was meant to have honor. To have the skills necessary to make it as one of the knights. Was meant to work his way up through the ranks, and become proud when he looked at himself in the mirror. Sir Lancelot had been many things but a spy wasn't one of them. "I'm…nobody. I'm just a man that wanted to become a knight. But the laws say that I'm unfit to serve the kingdom. I did what I had to do, so I can do my part in protecting this great kingdom. I humbly apologize for any… grievances I caused because of my own mistakes."

Lancelot bowed his head down towards the floor, to ashamed by the dishonor that came with lying about his dignity to look anybody in the eye. Though the warrior could certainly feel the harsh and uneven glares piercing every inch of his body…he was pretty sure Arthur was more upset about his deceit than the king himself was. But the king was nothing to laugh at either, the true decider of his fate. Lancelot already figured he was going to die because of this, but it was up to the king, his judge, to determine if Lancelot's death was quick and painless. Or drawn out until there was nothing left of him to hurt. Perhaps the warrior would even deserve the painful method most of all. Lancelot's lies…he had not only brought shame upon the kingdom but shame upon himself. Merlin hadn't been wrong about the rules of the kingdom not being fair, but who was Lancelot to judge them? Who was Lancelot to decide he could be the one man army, changing the way Camelot worked from the inside out. It wasn't as if this wasn't always going to be his fate, whether people found out now or found out years from now. Either way…a peasant man donning a uniform would be all but marked for death by the very people they once thought of as comrades.

"LIAR!" Uther bellowed from above him, rising out of his throne in his sudden anger, and Lancelot drew in on himself reflectively. He did not think he'd been so helpless in his entire life. Not since…not since the raiders burned down his entire village within the course of a single night. But this was different. He was chained up, his wrists tugging at his handcuffs but there was no give there to give him relief. He didn't have his sword with him. It was still sitting on one of the tables in Gaius' home…Lancelot wondered if anybody would try wielding the blade after he was gone. Or if Merlin would keep it as some kind of token to remember him by. Or if it would be passed on to Gwen, now that he did not have any need for it where he was going. "There is no law that says the son of a noble cannot fight for the kingdom and become a knight of Camelot. There is no law that written, and I know them backwards and forwards, that would give a man reason to lie about his origins. The only thing I can figure is that you are from another kingdom, but while that would certainly give us pause, that isn't a deal breaker if you swear fealty to this kingdom. But you lied, which means you are here for nefarious purposes. Do not try to trick me, boy-"

Each word that the king spewed out at Lancelot, treating him as if he's some kind of murderer instead of just somebody who had been desperate to prove himself as capable, made a wave of frustration crash over him. The king still wasn't getting it, still wasn't understanding Lancelot when he said he was just a nobody. The king probably thought he was the youngest son of some minor noble that nobody bothered remembering the name of. Still considered to be part of the 'elites', but still too lowborn in the hierarchy to be worth noticing for very long. Somebody that the higher nobles would've considered a 'nobody' in their court. But Lancelot was beneath even that. Beneath the glittery sheen of armor he'd been wearing just the night before, he was still the same Lancelot, no better than the dirt they walked on. But…why was that a bad thing…why is he condemned just for wanting to better himself…

"I'M A PEASANT!" Lancelot screamed, daring to interrupt the king in mid-rant, a feat nobody else would've dared tried to do, finally lifting his head up. It was enough to make the king stop, enough for Arthur's furious expression to drop in utter shock. Enough for the knights behind him to gasp, and look around at themselves, a pin could've been dropped and heard from how silent the room had became. Nothing but Lancelot's ragged breathing to make sure nothing's gone wrong with their hearing. "I was born a peasant, and I was an a Camelot citizen, born within the boarders of this land twenty one summers ago. And as I have learned, according to the first law of Camelot and the knight's code that you all live by, a peasant is not allowed to join the ranks. I'm no foreigner, but I also do not carry the…elite bloodline that would have allowed my entrance into your world."

Uther looked stricken, probably sick now that he realized he had knighted the peasant man just the night before. And Arthur looked as if he had swallowed a lemon, eyes flicking from Lancelot to his father as if he didn't know quite what to think now. And Lancelot…Lancelot should've bowed his head and let the two decide his fate without anymore of his interference. But Lancelot didn't. In fact he did the exact opposite. He pushed himself up a bit higher on his knees, and he raised his chin a bit higher…daring the king and his son to look down at him from their higher stations. If he was going to die anyway, then he should have the honor to at least die with what little dignity he still had. And maybe…maybe Merlin would see him as the brave warrior he so desperately wanted to be. The brave warrior…he didn't think he could be. Besides, Merlin stood in front of the king and his son, in front of all these people, every damn day. They also looked down their noses at Merlin, and still, Merlin continued to rise above them in all the ways that mattered. If Merlin could face them, then…Lancelot didn't have no right to not do the same.

After some long moments passed, where nobody seemed to know just what to make of Lancelot's confession, the king made a sudden clicking sound with his tongue. It was a simple thing, really, but it still made Lancelot's insides tremble with nerves, though he kept that fear off his face the best that he could. He's not entire sure he succeeded, but Uther was no longer looking at him. Instead, the king made a snap with his fingers, looking at Geoffrey beside him. The old man wasted no time passing on Lancelot's false paperwork to him, where they were flipped open so the king could give them another look. Uther did a short hum under his breath, and it appeared Lancelot wasn't the only one waiting to see what would happen next. Waiting to see what his fate would be, he could see several of the knights leaning closer, waiting to hear what was happening right now. Even Arthur didn't seem to be immune, studying his father as if he couldn't make rhyme or reason on Uther deciding now was the proper time to give the scrolls another look-see. It wasn't as if the information written across the thick parchment had changed in the time Uther looked at them last, and to when Geoffrey had looked at them. Either way Uther read them, Lancelot had still broken the law. He had still done a disservice to Camelot's sacred knights.

"If you are a peasant man, then perhaps you could explain to me how you were able to get your hands on a forgery of this caliber? As Geoffrey has made note of already, this forgery is one of the bests seen. Something that could've gone unchecked for years, had we not made sure of the fact:" Uther said, and being surprisingly prim and proper on the matter, calmer than he had been moments before. But Lancelot's muscles went tight and strained, he lowered his eyes to the floor once again…Merlin. Merlin had gotten the paperwork for him. He had known the papers were good, though Lancelot would've hardly noticed if they hadn't been, but he hadn't known they were so good they could've fooled the person responsible for looking into these matters. But…how did Merlin make a forgery like that? So good, even the king was interested in it. And it wasn't like Merlin had been gone long enough to have done something decent…only gone a single night, actually. So, once again…how had he done it? "A man that came from your claimed station, would not have been able to afford an expert to get it done. And there's no way you could have done it yourself. Something that is this good, would've needed years of practice. A mastery of the highest order, with an excellent eye for detail, to get it right. And even then, a peasant would have never been able to get their hands on this type of parchment, nor the ink and colors used on it. Only a noble would've been able to get your hands near such items. Which leads me to conclude…perhaps you are telling the truth on the matter. And perhaps you had an accomplice helping you from the sideline, am I correct?"

Lancelot's lungs felt as if they had frozen in his chest, realizing how high the stakes suddenly were. Uther was asking about an accomplice…somebody that would be given the same punishment he would be given, for conspiracies and working against the king. But that accomplice was Merlin…the only one who'd ever given Lancelot a chance. The only one who had ever believed in him, that believed 'he' could somehow make a difference. Lancelot may not know 'how' Merlin managed to get the scroll in order like he had, perhaps he managed to pay somebody to do it, he was a noble after all. But Lancelot 'did know' Uther was very unlikely to let things go after realizing the 'accomplice' was Consort Merlin. Lancelot felt his heart squeezing in his chest, just imagining the other boy being dragged into this room the same way he had been, and thrown onto his knees before the king.

"Oh…you aren't going to say anything, are you? So, does that mean you really did have somebody helping you? But this is somebody whose name you aren't willing to give up. Hmm…perhaps if I sweeten the pot a little, you'll see things my way, yes?" Uther asked, easing back down into his chair with this friendly smirk that infuriated the warrior. Uther was so sure of himself, so positive that Lancelot would give up Merlin on a second's notice. Uther clearly didn't know how deep a man's loyalty could go, because he would weather burn in the pits of hell than admit Merlin had been anywhere near this. As far as anybody had to know, Merlin was just as blindsided by Lancelot not being noble as anybody else was. It was the only thing that could protect him from the king's growing wrath. "What if I decide to give you a lesser sentence for your compliance? I'm sure you understand what's at stake, what your punishment could be for trying to impersonate a noble. What if I decided to allow you to live instead. Perhaps I won't even keep you in a jail cell for the rest of your days? How do you feel on being banished from the lands? You can't exactly go unpunished, and you will never be allowed to enter Camelot's boarders again. But you"ll at least have a chance to settle down somewhere else. Live out the remainder of your days as unbothered as you choose to be. That's a far better deal than most who broke the code could ever hope to have, don't you agree?"

It was a good deal, especially for the type of man who would sell out their own friends, who had only been doing them a favor, in order to save their own skin. A chance to start completely over, somewhere that had nobody who knew the things he had done and the crimes he had committed that had gotten him here today. But Lancelot wasn't the type of man who threw others under a carriage for his own sake. Not to mention…this wasn't any run of the mill friend. This is MERLIN. Not Consort Merlin, the third most powerful person within the entire kingdom. But MERLIN. Who had trusted Lancelot with his friendship, with his life, with his secrets…it was time for Lancelot to earn that trust.

Lancelot's continued to stay silent.

Defiant.

Anger brimming in his eyes.