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!

199. Chapter 201

This chapter is dedicated to Agolious, who wanted to see Lancelot give Merlin a sort of goodbye kiss on his way out of the city, and have Arthur see it ;p

X

Merlin Pendragon had been sure, without a single moment of doubt, that he had missed his chance with Lancelot. He had been left behind on the very dirt road in which Merlin had once carried Lancelot's prone body down the day he thought the man was going to bleed to death after he had saved his life. It was a moment Merlin would have kicked himself for the rest of his days, knowing he had wasted what precious little time they had talking about things he was not wanting to talk about. Yes, Merlin was excited beyond belief that the other man was apparently willing to go out of his way just to check on his mother, a woman that Lancelot had never met before in all of his days. But at the exact same time, Merlin had came out here for more than a goodbye. There'd been something Merlin had wanted to say, something specific that Merlin wanted to do, though he didn't know how well-received something like this would be for a man with the skillset that Lancelot had.

Which was probably why Merlin was both elated and terrified when he saw the former warrior jerking hard on the reins of his horse, pulling the creature into a stop before he got more than a yard or two away from Merlin. And the consort watched as Lancelot turned around, already swinging his leg over his horse so that he could drop himself down to the ground. And Lancelot's eyes found his, worry shining deep in those brown orbs as they found Merlin's, as if the former warrior had thought something serious had happened in the twenty or so brief seconds that they've been apart. Merlin's heart was lurching itself somewhere in his throat, nearly stumbling and tripping over his own feet as he hurried over the distance to reach the other man. He had one hand tucked away inside his pocket, something he'd been doing ever since he met with Lancelot on top of this dirt road this bright early morning. Something heavy laid within his pocket, though it felt no more heavier than the way his heart felt when he was standing in front of the former warrior, finally.

"Do you know what this is!"

The words escaped Merlin faster than he could think them, as he withdrew the object from his pocket. And he almost hit Lancelot in the chest with it after he threw his hand out to show Lancelot the object that lay within his grasp. Merlin could feel his cheeks as they started to stain red, growing more flustered after the former warrior glanced down at the metal piece sticking from between the consort's fingers. Which was pretty stupid, Lancelot had already seen Merlin during his more vulnerable moments. He knew all about Merlin's deepest and darkest of secrets, and hadn't spoken to a single soul about the contract that held him hostage in marriage, or about the magic that sung through his blood more than his actual blood did. But here he was, embarrassed just because he was trying to show Lancelot a jewel. Though this jewel was also something so very important to Merlin, something he had kept tucked away because he had not wanted to risk damaging it. But showing it to Lancelot now, watching when the former warrior took in the curved lines of the image engraved in the center of it, almost felt like he was showing him his soul. Merlin started to ramble with the same awkwardness that could have powered a thousand suns.

"I know you probably don't really know what this is, because I didn't know just what it meant when Gaius showed it to me a few days ago. But I have grown to be quite attached to it since he passed it on to me. I know that it's not exactly the same, but if you tilt your head a little, the bird almost looks as if it's trying to be a merlin bird. Makes me wonder if my mother's ever seen this before and that's where she got my name from." Merlin said with this awkward laugh that caused his fingers to tighten around the metal until it felt like he had the curvy edges engraved into his skin. He felt the edge of the merlin bird's beak trying to pierce itself into his thumb, the insignia bearing more weight than any piece of metal had the right to. Merlin cleared his throat when it looked as if his new friend wasn't going to laugh at his joke, still looking at Merlin confused as if he wasn't entirely getting what Merlin was trying to say. "What I'm trying to really get at is… this insignia is extremely important to my family. The noble family, I mean, that comes from Uncle Gaius' side of the family tree. He passed it down to me when it was given to him, because it's part of my history. I suppose as I am his heir now… it belongs to me. My crest… the crest of my family. I did not think I would ever have something like this to hold, something that had ties to my family heritage and where I come from. My mom doesn't have anything like this that she could pass on to me, and I never knew my father so I don't know if he would have anything to begin with. But… it's something that I want you to have."

Merlin practically shoved the object into Lancelot's chest with a more forceful intent, which caused the former warrior to scrabble so he could catch it before it could be stained by the dirt beneath them. Lancelot was gaping at him, this stunned disbelief nearly swallowing his features whole as he took in what the consort had just told him. People didn't just go around handing out priceless family heirlooms to people they've only known a week. Heirlooms such as this was convulsed amongst the family itself, given over only to a trusted individual when it needed to be hidden during dangerous times, or used as some kind of signals for other nobles to understand who had been chosen to take command of the family once the head steps back. And even then, it will almost always be given to a first born son, unless there were none available or there was a clear reason why they should be passed over. As in, they had been either disabled in some way, or were facing criminal charges that left them unsuitable to be the head of anything. To an outsider, Lancelot, who Merlin had only know for this one week, probably didn't fit the bill of 'trusted individual.' But Merlin knew in his heart of hearts that this wasn't something he was going to regret, he's only worried about how Lancelot would perceive what he was trying to ask him.

"What? Merlin, no! I couldn't possibly have something like this! You just said it yourself, this is a very important artifact for you and your family! It isn't exactly something that belongs in my hands! Especially not when I'm traveling across the country land. People are liable to believe I stole something as beautiful as this is!" Lancelot's clear knee-jerk reaction was to deny the gift Merlin's trying to bestow upon him, though Merlin continued to worry about how Lancelot will take what was remaining unspoken at the moment. The former warrior tried to hold the insignia out to Merlin, but the consort shook his head and held up his hands as he took a step back, silently saying he wasn't going to take it. And it was clear that Lancelot was growing frustrated, holding the crest gingerly with his hands as if he was terrified he was going to somehow damage the delicate metal with his much larger hands. "Merlin, please! I don't know why you want me to take this, but I cannot do such a thing! This is yours, a gift handed down to you from your own uncle. There is absolutely no reason as for why I should be the one to have it. I understand that we are friends, but something like this is far too much!"

Lancelot held it out once again for Merlin to take from him, the pure panic on his face would have been funny if Merlin wasn't also panicking himself. But the consort looked down at the metal insignia, the bird's wings held up as if it was prepared to take off into flight to parts unknown. And Merlin remembered how proud he had been when Gaius had pinned it onto his robes the night they had celebrated Lancelot becoming a knight. He had been so happy to march in the room with that thing right beneath his collarbone, wearing something that had marked him as more than just the husband of a Pendragon. Something he was able to show to others to prove he didn't just crop out of the dirt with all of the other peasants, something that proved he had a history that went beyond their royal Pendragon family. Merlin would have been happy to carry around the old wooden spoon his mother always used when she was cooking, if it meant there was proof that he had a family before he became a pawn among the games the Pendragon's liked to play. Just… something that could prove he was far more than the family he had been married into. And looking down at the metal crest now, it still filled Merlin with the same importance it had filled him with when it had first been shown to him. He wanted—no, he wished—that it was able to do the same to Lancelot. To give him that same sense of connection it gave to the boy who had spent most of his life lost, to give Lancelot purpose. Lancelot and him were quite similar in that way, both of them lost and stumbling through the life they've been given. Both looking for purpose in a world that would want to see them turned out.

"You know, when Gaius first gave this to me, he explained a few things to me… it probably would have helped us back then, but we were already too far in our plan to go back and change things. But… this crest has more significance than just belonging to somebody's family. You probably wouldn't have been kicked out of the city if we had just done it this way originally, but…" Merlin chuckled underneath his breath uneasily, his stomach twisting itself into so many knots that it felt like he was going to be sick. Lancelot was still looking at him, which only unsettled him more, but he took a deep breath to force himself to keep on going. He had already made it this far, he could hardly backtrack now. "What I am trying to say is… me handing you this crest means something among all the royals. They see you wearing this, and they will know that you belong to me, to my family, and that you have all the power—limited as that is—of my family just behind you. But because I'm the one that is giving it to you, I can hand over to you a new title that is befitting of your change in status. I can have you turned into a knight, properly, this time."

There was some kind of weird expression flying across Lancelot's face, and it went by far too fast for Merlin to decipher what it was. He was hoping the man would express glee, excitement over something like this really happening, just so Merlin wouldn't have to go into this deeper than he wanted to. But… he was just being ridiculous. He had been essential in the death of a magical creature, and he still had trouble looking his greatest friend in the eye? He had gone and done something way more scary than that, when he had faced the council and his attackers and shamed them for everything they've done. And yet, this was what made him feel as if his heart had gotten itself lodged in his throat. He is being so bloody stupid right now, but somehow, Lancelot rejecting him caused Merlin to feel as if he was about to face down a hundred or so griffins while he had only one lance to spread among them. But Lancelot continued to stare him down with a blank and neutral face, and the consort swallowed past his drying throat before explaining himself the best that he could.

"What I would basically be doing is turning you into the knight… it will be you operating as my own person knight. A knight to the consort of Camelot, who is dedicated to my protection and continued existence. Or, at least that is how it was all explained to me by my uncle. Apparently, nobles are allowed to have or hire their own little sector of knights, who are separated from the knights who work beneath the crown like all the guards around here are." Merlin tried to do his belt to explain himself, but his tongue felt as if it was twisting itself into an awful knot as Lancelot continued to stare at the crest in his hands silently. The next words came out in a twisted mess of half mashed syllables that sounded as if they weren't really words at all. "I mean, I, uh, I know that this is probably a huge step down for you. I mean, you wanted to be this huge, major knight of Camelot. You didn't come here just to be in a mini-group that would consist of basically only you. And I'm like, pretty sure this isn't going to do anything like lift your banishment, or maybe this is a loophole to get around that so not even Uther could protest without causing unrest among the other nobles. I can't say I'm entirely clear on all the details, maybe I should've researched this just a bit more before I proposed the idea. But… I'm getting all point. The point is, if you want to be… you can have this position among my… my court. I guess. And you can become… Sir Lancelot, First Knight to the Consort of Camelot, and Head Knight to the Whytt Family."

The title sounded fancy enough to Merlin, something people would even fight over to be in such a prestige position of the court. But it sometimes felt as if it wasn't something that should be including Merlin. People weren't going to try and 'fight' for a spot amongst his inner court, especially not a court that would literally consist of only him. But titles had a way of enticing men, though it was a mystery whether or not the same tactic would work on a man that had all the honor that Lancelot had in his body. But still, Merlin at least wanted to show he could give Lancelot a title that would be equal to the one he would've gotten if he had been allowed to stay in Camelot and fulfill his dream as the full-fledged knight he was always meant to be. Merlin couldn't do much, but he could give him this offer. Hopefully he wouldn't laugh in his face because working under Merlin probably wouldn't help Lancelot's reputation now that he was known as the 'traitor knight' in most noble circles.

"I thought…" Merlin's head shot up, his heart making another leap somewhere in his throat as Lancelot finally spoke up, his hand squeezing around the crest in his hand, a sudden anxiety flooding the consort that, for a moment, caused him to find breathing very difficult. "I didn't know that you would want to give me such a position. I was thinking… that it was best for me to leave so that you would not be troubled because of my presence, because of everything that I'd been involved with since my arrival. It's… it's a stupid fear, wasn't it? To think it is you that wishes to see me gone before you feel the need to do something to aid me when you don't have to. Perhaps it's the results of the upbringing I had since my parents died, or perhaps it's because I find it difficult to connect with people since I have never placed down roots before. But… it was simply my old anxieties getting the best of me, wasn't it? Because this… this is considered to be something quite serious. Not something you would offer to a man even with you feeling bad about my dream ending here. Offering something like this… it's an offer only made to someone who has earned your upmost trust. Somebody that you look to during times of stress, somebody that you trust to stand right at your back and know that no harm will come your way without it being seen."

Sometime during Lancelot's speech, the former knight bad looked up from the crest Merlin had given to him, so that he could meet eyes with Merlin himself, an off-colored sheen to them that made them appear wet. And Merlin felt his breath catching in his throat at Lancelot's confession, as he realized, perhaps for the first time, that he might not be the only one not knowing how to behave in this situation. That he might not be the only one with these feelings of loss and discontentment, struggling to grasp onto the one semblance of normal the two of them had have this entire week. Only to feel as if it too, was slipping its way through their fingers as Lancelot had been taking his leave. And knowing it wasn't just him, somehow made Merlin feel as if it was easier for him to take a breath. For his lungs to expand as his heart eased its way out of the snugged little hole in his throat that it had found itself hiding inside of. Maybe it did not have to be this way, maybe the both of them were being ridiculous, something that was being exasperated because this was probably their last moments to be in each other's presence.

For quite a while, at least.

Because they were more than just acquaintances who had spent a single week in each other's company, sleeping beneath the same roof, and getting to know the other because of their similar peasant upbringing. And they were far more than just friends, who had met by chance under terrible circumstances before using it to create a bond that they wouldn't even remember once they were no longer in the other's presence for more than five minutes. That had turned into something much deeper than that, something that had been forged under fire as they worked through lies of their own making as they dodged the claws and the fangs coming at them from human and beast alike. They were… the two of them were brothers. They might not have came from the same womb, and they might not share the same blood, or were raised beneath the same roof, but the two of them were brothers nonetheless. They had bled for each other inside of the short time they've known each other, they had protected each other when it even meant their life was put on the line, and they had raced to each other's defense more times than they could count. In the single span of a week, Merlin had gained a brother who he knew, would never fail him.

"Lancelot, I don't think that I have ever trusted anybody more than I trust you to do what is right by me. Yes, I trust my uncle and I trust Gwen and I can also trust Morgana with all of my heart. But this… this is something different. I don't know if, perhaps, the two of us were always meant to meet, or if we happened across each other the way we did because of chance." Merlin said, while tilting his chin up a little higher as a surge of confidence flooded him, the kind Merlin had feared had been beaten out of him during his time here in Camelot. It was the confidence that allowed him to face his assaulters and the court, the kind that allowed him to face a rabid beast that had killed dozens without any hint of mercy, the kind that had fueled him as he threw himself between Arthur and Lancelot before his husband could finish off his brother with a killing blow. "It is perhaps something neither of us will even know. But you already know more about me than anybody, other than my own mother and my uncle, know about me. You know how I came to be in Camelot, and you grew angry on my behalf. You know about the things I can do that others cannot, and you did not try and shield yourself away from me in fear, or turn me in because of that exact same fear that runs rampant throughout the kingdom. I TRUST you, Lancelot, most likely more than I trust even myself. If there is anybody that I would trust to be able to watch my back, somebody that I do not have to watch my every single step with for fear they will discover exactly how different I am from others, it's you."

Merlin made sure each single word he spoke had been said with earnest, as he placed care into each and every sound he made. He made sure his eyes drilled into Lancelot's own, imparting onto the other man how serious he was. As long as Merlin had been in Camelot, he's had a troubling relationship with the many knights who had sworn their fealty and oaths to the protection of the royals of Camelot. He's had at least a dozen or so different guards that's been assigned to him because of Arthur, many of who ended up being lackluster and uncaring about the duty handed down to them. It was why Merlin had always sent them away, or fussed at Arthur whenever he realized what was going on. He had no trust placed in them, sure that their own prejudices against him meant he was better off looking after himself. And the few Merlin actually liked, that he could see talking to on a friendlier basis, were people Merlin felt were trying to keep eyes on him like a hawk. Perhaps that was their job, but it made it very difficult for Merlin to do anything, when he was half-worried they would catch him after he did something he most definitely should not have been doing. Merlin wasn't able to be himself, which left him restless and agitated. But if he could get this man to take that position, then Merlin would never be faced with trouble such as that. He could be himself with Lancelot standing right next to him, without the fear of being judged or persecuted clouding his mind. Lancelot could be a man of his choosing.

"Merlin…" Lancelot finally said as the air around them settled, his eyes almost wavering while Merlin stood firm and steady. The consort had already made a choice, perhaps he had even already decided long before today, but only now was it a conscious choice on his part. There was no other man like Lancelot in the entire world. Only HE was fit for the duty of becoming the very First Knight of Camelot's Consort, and the Head of the Whytt Family's Council. Maybe the two of them would be lucky, and they could meet others who shared the same spark that they had, others who had came from nothing and rose beyond what their heritages would've allowed them, others who could join them and be part of the brotherhood that were crafting from the ground up. But no man would be able to tell Merlin that Lancelot wasn't the perfect fit for the job. This was a position that had practically been created for somebody who had the integrity and heart that Lancelot possessed. "I… I would love nothing more than to take this offer while it is still on the table. And I wish to be nothing more than your first knight, it is a position I never dreamed could be offer to somebody as low as I am. Even before I knew you, and I thought of the consort as nothing more than a figure of myth and legends made flesh, I never entertained the thought of being allowed in such a trusted position. But still… I find it difficult to accept a keepsake that belongs to your family simply to elevate myself."

Merlin's heart nearly stopped, once again, in his chest when he saw Lancelot thrusting his crest back out at him. His head ducked down low, as if it hurt him to be handing it, and the opportunity Merlin was trying to give him, back. For a single second, Merlin had almost thought he had been rejected. Maybe he had been right to be anxious about this whole thing, the fear of rejection strong for a boy who had spent the entirety of his life being rejected by society one way or another. But staring at it longer, and staring at the way Lancelot's shoulders were slumping forward, at the way Lancelot's fingers were straining around the crest as if he wouldn't be able to let it go if Merlin really tried to take it, did put a few things in perspective for the consort. This was just like when Gaius gave it to him all those day ago, and Merlin had treated the seal as if it was a fragile bit of equipment that would break if he touched it too hard. He'd been scared to wear it the night of Lancelot's celebrations, fearful that he might tarnish or damage the metal in some way. Perhaps Lancelot was also thinking much the same, believing he would do more than just tarnish and damage the seal. Just maybe, Lancelot was doubting his abilities, doubting that he could be worthy of bearing such a symbol on his collar. Not that Merlin thought he was a man 'worthy' of having knights wanting to work beneath him specifically, but surely the Whytt name combined with the power of Camelot's Consort had to carry a bit of weight to it. That kind of strain could be a suffering amount of duty and responsibility that could swallow a man whole if they weren't careful. He knew all about the burdens that came with duty and responsibility, and Merlin would not wish it upon his own worse enemies. But if it was only Lancelot's own inner doubts that was holding him back from accepting this, then Merlin needed and wanted to be the one to put those doubts to rest.

"Lancelot." Merlin said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hands around the same hand that Lancelot was holding his crest with. He could feel the muscles living in Lancelot's wrist spasm at his touch, and the knight in question looked up in self-doubt. Perhaps he thought Merlin had finally come to his senses, and was going to withdraw the offer while asking Lancelot to pretend that none of this had happened. Many men would've done such a thing, backtracking in order to stop the shame that would come with choosing somebody unsuitable to hold the duty being given onto them. But Merlin didn't make mistakes like that… oh, yes. He made plenty of mistakes with everything he's done. But when it would come to something like this, when Merlin had already hardened his heart after his trust in Arthur had shattered beyond belief, he knew there was no mistake. Lancelot was the first person to crawl over the wall Merlin had created to keep people out. That wasn't something to be taken lightly. "You and I both already know that you have earned the right to wear something like this, probably ten times over. And we both already know that even my Uncle accepts this choice being you. He wouldn't have told me all about how I can give this to someone of my choosing to get around Uther's whole 'no non-noble becoming a knight' thing he's got going on. AND he specifically mentioned you by name after he passed it onto me. I think even back then, before we got caught and you got arrested and everything, that Gaius was handing me the tools I needed to keep us together, even if we are separated by distance considering you are forced to leave and I cannot leave. And besides, if you really doubt yourself, then you can think about this as a loaner. When the day comes that Uther pulls his head out of his arse and realized what an asset peasants can be to his forces given the proper training, then you can give this back to me the day you can become a true knight of Camelot."

A smile tugged at Merlin's lips as he said the little joke at the end and from the look on Lancelot's eyes, he was pretty sure the other man had gotten the joke as well. It didn't matter if—should the fates be changed and Lancelot be given a chance to join the knights that surrounded Camelot's borders—the other did become a member of the elite team. Merlin was never going to have hands on that crest again, probably for the rest of his life. He was never going to have a chance to wear the crest upon his collar again, signaling to others that it was the family he had been born to. He would never feel that cold metal in his hand again, feeling the completion that came from knowing where he came from, his place in the world. He would never know the pain of losing this symbol far too soon, because as far as Merlin was concerned… he hadn't lost it had at all. He had passed it onto another, and Merlin was okay with that. What else would his new knight have to signify his change in status, other than something that was able to reflect he also had a place in society when he had been already denied once before.

"Merlin, I really think you are underestimating how amazing an offer like this is meant to be, or how many people would kill just to be chosen by your hand, to be one of your knight's. Not the knight or Camelot's Consort, but a knight that is meant to protect YOU. Let alone to be the first chosen, to be the head… this offer is like being chosen to be one of the elites. There are millions of men who run around following the orders of the royal family, but how many of them have been chosen to be involved in a squad that's just now coming into being? I can say with upmost certainty, I would not leave your service even if the king came to me himself and begged me to join Camelot's army." Lancelot said, with way too much earnestly in his voice and in his eyes, and it had a ruby blush forming across the bridge of Merlin's nose as embarrassment settled inside of him. He was… Lancelot was sounding so proud, so excited, as if he couldn't believe the situation in front of them was really happening. As if he thought all of this was a dream that he might wake up from at any moment, and to be honest, Merlin couldn't say for sure that this wasn't a dream of some kind. Usually by now, he would have been interrupted by Arthur or some other event that left him with a task unfinished. But looking around, there was no Arthur in sight. Nothing that could ruin this, ruin the bond solidifying in the embrace of a metal crest sitting between their joined hands. Lancelot hook his head, as this almost breathless sort of laugh escaped him, "What would I even do? I mean, my first priority as your knight should be to protect you, make sure there's nobody out to get you or something like that. But if I'm going to leave the city, then how would such a thing even work?"

Merlin opened his mouth to answer, and tell Lancelot exactly what he would be doing in Merlin's name, when the distance between them became unavoidable, but he stopped as the words died in his throat and his eyes blinked rapidly, as he tried to figure out an answer to that question. To be honest, Merlin couldn't give Lancelot an answer, he hadn't exactly gotten that far when he decided to go through with this. Merlin had been having too much of an anxiety rush over Lancet possibly denying him, that he hasn't spent two seconds to think about what would happen afterwards? What COULD Lancelot do if Uther refused to allow him entrance to the city? What kind of task could Lancelot even do, with Merlin trapped inside of the city as he was? Merlin didn't just want to sick this man out into the world with no game plan, or no goal for him to have. Where it was just Lancelot wondering aimlessly across the countryside, waiting for the call from Merlin to call him home should the day come—if it came—where the consort needed to have a trusted fighter beside him. What kind of life would it be, living Ike that? A knight without an actual job. A knight with a title but not a single thing to go along with it, other than a fancy crest to carry around as his only proof that he was a member of Consort Merlin's Chosen Guards. Consort Merlin cleared his throat, before giving Lancelot a task he could only hope was enough, because honestly, what did Merlin know about giving out orders?

"Well, as you already know, I'm stuck here inside of the city, especially after I was attacked by Julian and Bryon. I probably won't ever be allowed to take my leave without permission from either Uther or Arthur, which we both know will probably not be happening without a damn good reason for it. But people have been going around the city and calling me all kinds of names… like the Consort Savior and the One Who Shows Mercy and the Just… weird things like that. All of those titles, I can hardly live up to the name if I'm only looking out for those inside the city. This kingdom spreads far wider than just to the walls that stand surrounding this piece of land, there are dozens and dozens of villages around the outskirts and scattered across the lands. And not all of them can send out somebody to ask for help from the crown if something's wrong, so… perhaps I need to have ears and eyes outside of this castle." Merlin said softly, his mind already whirling with the possibilities as he stared into Lancelot's eyes. Merlin could remember his own home life back in Ealdor, and how helpless they were when bandits would attack, the fear that came with being unable to do a single thing to stop it and knowing that nobody was coming to protect them. And he knew that Lancelot had gone through much worse, had seen much worse with these kinds of attacks than Merlin had. At least Merlin's village was still able to stand afterwards, unlike Lancelot's, whose village had been trampled straight into the ground after raiders had attacked it. But they both knew the feeling as desolation creeped onto them. "Perhaps that is what you can do, you can look into them and find out what they need. Take out a few bandits, since you most definitely have the skills to do it, if you see them along the road. Keep safe the ones who do not have a giant wall built around their home to prevent needless deaths from occurring. I know it's probably not nearly as glamorous as it would be if you stayed in the city, but this is at least a task that I can give you to do—"

Merlin trailed off as uncertainty coursed through him… this task sounded more like an errand, as if it was nothing more than busy work, rather than something that would make a remarkable difference. But Merlin had to shake that thought from his mind, knowing he was being stupid. He was only thinking such things because he wouldn't be out there with Lancelot himself, watching as they tried to do what they could to change the tides for people unable to do anything for themselves. Merlin was sure to the people out there, the ones Lancelot saved from being the victims of assaults or robbery or having their homes raided and children injured, it would mean the world of difference. Merlin figured they had guards out there already, people assigned by Uther to work the land and send in reports on what was happening outside the castle. But Merlin was also sure those very same people were more involved with keeping an eye on the border to make sure nobody suspicious tried to cross into their land. Making sure that an army from one of the other kingdoms wouldn't be able to surprise them in a bid for war and bloodshed. And sure, maybe those people stopped bandits if it happened right in front of them, but how many of them were actually focused on the people themselves? How many of these knights had actually talked with one of the 'peasants' they are tasked with protecting? How many of them were actually interested in seeking to make those hard working folks lives better in some way? Or how many of them were out there simply doing their duty, while counting the days until they were allowed to return to the city.

"I'll do it!"

Merlin blinked, almost startled as he was forced out of his thoughts after such an exclamation came from Lancelot's lips. And he blinked once more with his surprise as he withdrew his hands from Lancelot's. Maybe it was just because of his relationship with Arthur, but Merlin had been expecting a lot more than just… this. Perhaps he was expecting an argument or a fight to break out over Merlin not being able to offer him a more prestigious job—most knights did not believe mucking around in the dirt with the peasants to be 'important enough' for them or their station. Maybe he was expecting Lancelot to shout at him just as Arthur always had when Merlin expressed his own thoughts or idea, so this moment actually left Merlin stumped. Especially when he saw the gleeful smile that had spread across Lancelot's lips, as if he truly thought everything Merlin was offering him was the chance of a lifetime. It left Merlin floundering for just a minute there, needing to remind himself that Arthur and Lancelot had always been two completely different people, so comparing them wasn't going to get him anywhere. Some people—like Arthur—fought at the simplest misstep and misconceived slight against them. And other people—like Lancelot—took what they could get with grace and gratefulness.

"But if we are going to do this, then I want to do this right."

Merlin frowned, confused as hell when Lancelot thrusted the Whytt crest into his hands, causing the consort to grasp his hands around it before the metal could fall to the dirt. What was Lancelot… what did he mean when he said that he wanted to do this right? What did it mean… doing this right? But Merlin had his question answered as Lancelot dropped down to one knee before him, the cape Gwen had made for him all those days ago fluttering across his shoulders as if he had always been destined to wear one. Lancelot bowed his head, with his expression carefully arranged into something more neutral as he kept eyes on the ground at Merlin's feet. Showing the consort his reverence and respect, befitting for any protector worth their salt. Merlin's throat felt dry, and he had his fingers trembling around the metal crest in his hands as he watched what the man did.

This was exactly how Lancelot had bowed before King Uther as the other man had bestowed him with his original knighthood. Was Lancelot… did he expect for Merlin to do something similar? To bestow Lancelot with all the power and expectations that came with being the First Knight to Camelot's Consort? But Merlin had never done anything like that before. He had never given a man this kind of status before. The limit of what Merlin had done included standing up in front of the coward and refusing to allow their penetrating gaze to keep him silent in the face of his attackers… right. Merlin had done that, hadn't he? And he had done it while standing directly in front of Arthur, and feeling the way he had his skin prickling everytime Arthur had looked at him. And he had done all of that after he used his magic to shift the auras in the air just enough so that Lancelot could use it as a weapon against the griffin. And he had managed to save Arthur's life in the crossfire, because he was strong enough to set aside his hatred just long enough to not leave the prince for dead. Merlin was quite capable of doing things he didn't expect of himself, quite capable of blowing past expectations and making things his own… why should bestowing a man with knighthood be anything different? The consort sucked in a deep breath, and held the air tightly in his lungs, as if he thought he was going to collapse if he didn't fill them till they were near bursting. And then he released, allowing his anxieties to leave him with his breath escaping into the air.

"Do you, Lancelot, a man of non-noble birth, vow to carry out your duties and be the best knight you can be? Do you vow to be a knight that has more worth and honor brimming in his heart than any man of noble birth? Do you promise to spend the rest of your days in service to the people of Camelot, working at your consort's side to ensure their protection? Do you swear fealty to me, your Consort of Camelot? Swearing your blood, your alliance, and your trust toward me and me alone? Do you, Lancelot, take this oath as your solemn vow to keep the peace in my land, even if the day comes in which I cannot do it myself any longer?"

Merlin didn't know exactly where these words came from, maybe they were a few bite and pieces he had heard during Lancelot's original knighthood. Maybe he had shifted a few words here and there to make it fit into what Lancelot and him were doing here today, to make it something that was uniquely theirs. The consort wasn't even sure if the other nobles would take something like that as something that was legally binding. Lancelot and him were standing on some dirt road, with nobody besides the horse and the two guards standing watch at the gates as their only witnesses—even if the guards were pretending they had not been watching the whole scene playing out in front of them. But perhaps it did not matter, because Merlin could feel the bond pulsing deep inside his own heart as Lancelot rose his head so their eyes could meet. He wondered if this warrior in front of him, who had gotten down to his knees and bared his neck in reverence to Merlin, trusting the consort to not strike him down right where he stood even if Lancelot knew exactly what he could do if he wanted to do it, could feel it as well.

"I do."

Merlin could feel a shudder going down his spine as he felt something inside of him—perhaps it was his soul—clicking into place. And he could've sworn he saw something similar happening to Lancelot as well, the other warrior's body briefly shaking as a tremble rolled down his spine. Maybe the consort was only being delusional, but if he wasn't mistaken, it felt as if his magic had come out to join the party. As if this moment was more than just Merlin making up fancy words for Lancelot to agree to in an impromptu ceremony. It was as if Merlin's magic was responding to the vow they had just made, and the warmth that had flooded through his veins was his magic accepting Lancelot's vow. Accepting Lancelot as one of them. His very magic agreeing with Merlin's choice… it left Merlin licking his dry lips as his heart shot into his throat once again, trying to embrace the thud of the ancient magic encouraging them. He felt his voice as it cracked with his next words, embarrassingly so, but Lancelot seemed like he was in a trance just the same as him.

"Then rise, Sir Lancelot, First Knight to Camelot's Royal Consort and the Head Protector to the Whytt Family."

Lancelot did as Merlin commanded him, rising to his feet and standing still as the consort stepped forward until the tips of their boots were touching on the other. And then, with so much careful consideration because of how much his hands were trembling… the flood of his magic almost made him feel like he did when he was drunk… he clipped the Whytt family crest just beneath Lancelot's collar. There was a moment of silence where the both of them simply stared at the crest that gifted Lancelot with a status all his own, unable to move or think or even breathe as they both took in what was happening. Merlin could feel as something new moved inside of him, some spark inside of him that mingled in his magic before disappearing. Was it Lancelot? Some part of Lancelot and his soul trying to bond with Merlin's? Had Merlin's magic reached out on its own to claim a piece of Lancelot so they could have him with them always? Merlin was pretty sure something like that was invasive and wrong, especially when it had not been given to him with Lancelot's permission. But perhaps his magic took Lancelot's vow to him as all the permission it needed. Was that how all of this worked? Merlin was pretty sure it wasn't something that would've happened if Arthur or Uther had been there to do this, but… Merlin was different. Maybe a type of vow made to a magical being, like Merlin, was taken with a bit more of a punch to it? Something more permanent and old taking place where nothing but fancy words should have been.

"Come with me."

Merlin blinked, almost blinded by the pump of magic rushing to his head, quite startled by Lancelot's sudden declaration. The new knight that belonged with the Whytt Family, completely detached from anything that had to do with even a hint of the Pendragon name, was standing up straight. His head held high as if the crest positioned like a broach in the middle of the ties on Lancelot's light cloak was giving him strength, causing him to stand with all the pride that was befitting of a knight. But he also looked as if he was drunk as well, the dark in the center of his eyes blown until there was nothing but a circle of brown over the irises. He would have to be, to make such a suggestion. Though he had to wonder if his eyes were looking the same, their sudden brotherhood forging its way beneath the power of magic more potent than either of them experienced before.

"No, don't look at me like that, I'm fully aware that this is an absolutely insane thing to do. I mean, the guards would probably come after us the second they realize that you are gone, but maybe we can have a head start on them should we leave now. Before anybody realizes it. I mean, the only ones we have to be worried about is the two guards at the gate, but I can probably knock the both of them out and we can be on our way." Lancelot insisted, looking as if he was truly believing his genius plan could have actually worked, but the state of his blown out eyes made Merlin wonder if he was really thinking about what they would face if they got caught. Lancelot being banished from the city would've looked like child's play once the knights caught up to them and drug the two of them straight back here. Lancelot was good with his blade, Merlin wouldn't have chosen him if he couldn't handle himself, but now even he could fight off an entire legion of knights coming after them. "Just think about it Merlin. I can say that life on the road isn't exactly the most thrilling thing, it's not like others describe it. We won't have an adventure everyday, and we'll probably get more lost trying to find a village to rest at, and finding food can be killer if you don't know how to hurt. But going with me… you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be chained to Camelot, or to Arthur and the crown. You could be free to do what it is that YOU want to do. And I'll be right alongside you every step of the way, as your First Knight is supposed to be? Don't you think it's a great idea?"

Merlin's heart ached, the pliant muscle squeezing tightly in his chest, thinking about what such a life could be like. His new knight was probably right, it was not going to be the kind of adventure people poured into storybooks or told by those who had wanderlust but had never actually left what safety their village could offer them. But the idea still had some merit to Merlin… being able to go and do whatever he wanted, traveling the land without an entourage of guards who may or may not want to stab him in the back the second he was turned. It wouldn't be a bad life, even if they spent most of it on the run, trying to keep a step ahead of the men who would be trying to take him back—most likely with Arthur in the lead. Sure, perhaps Merlin could take the opportunity to visit his mother for himself, see her with his own eyes and hug her with his own arms in that familiar embrace she had always given him. But… Merlin looked away. The consort wasn't exactly shy when it came to risky behavior, everything that he's done in Camelot had carried some risk to it, which very well could've ended up with his head being lobbed off. But… Merlin couldn't risk his mother's safety if that's where they caught up to him at. Nor could he risk Lancelot's freedom for only a brief reprieve away from this kingdom.

"I… I can't do that, Lancelot. Don't get me wrong, I would want nothing more than to escape from the place, or be here because it was my choice to be here instead of being forced to be. Seeing what else lies in the world, seeing what it is like in places where there are walls and guards designed to keep me inside them… it doesn't sound so bad." Merlin said quietly, his heart lurching with this longing that surprised even him. Merlin never had much of a desire to see the world or the treasures that it might hold for him. He had been content living in his little village, spending his day with his mother and his friend, just happy to be amongst people who cared for him despite his magic. He probably wouldn't have even minded living in Camelot, if it wasn't for all of the events he's had to live through inside these walls. It had left a stain on him, the anguish from the past that could never be quite washed away despite how much focus he kept on his healing. Merlin licked his lips and shook his head as if he was trying to rid himself of such thoughts before pushing his shoulders back to sound more confident than he was, "This is my home now. And I have people here that I'm sure will be relying on me in the days past. I mean, you can keep an eye on the ones outside the walls, but somebody still has to keep an eye on what's going on for the people on the inside. They're… more vulnerable to the nobles since they live so close together, somebody's got to be in a position to stand up for them, right?"

Perhaps Merlin was just making his excuses… he didn't want to imagine what would really happen if he took Lancelot's offer to go. He didn't want to be on that horse and riding through the forest with Lancelot in front of him, going as fast as they could through the forest. He didn't want to hear the sound coming from other horses chasing after them, didn't want to hear the shouting coming behind them as the guards caught up and surrounded them. He didn't want to look ahead and see Arthur really was the one leading the charge, the gleam in his eyes telling Merlin that he would make the consort pay for trying to take off on him. Retribution would be bitter, Merlin knew, as the prince dragged him off the horse to force him back to Camelot. He would probably finally stop this act thing he had going on lately, where he actually pretended he gave a damn for Merlin and what went on in his life.

"But why does it have to be you, Merlin? The way you make it sound… it's as if you are more than willing to sacrifice yourself for these people. Yes, there has been this sort of… shift in the air, if you want to call it that, since I have been in the city these last few days. But how do you know if it's going to stay like this later on? People around here are finally starting to notice you, the servants in the castle are starting to act like they worship you or something. But they were not like that before either, were they?" Lancelot questioned him with an almost frantic air that could have only been conjured by the potent magic still rushing through their blood, and Merlin's mouth popped open though he knew there is nothing he could've stand to that. Lancelot was right, after all? Those working in the castle hadn't been nearly as bad as the guards, they had—for the most part—never been brave enough to put hands on him. But they had still spread the rumors about him, had contributed to all the lies people had thought about him, had gone out of their way to make him feel uncomfortable. Things did feel different now, but what happens the next time Merlin screwed up? Would they forget about all the good Merlin's done, and decide to scorn him once again? It wasn't something he wanted to live with, a whole back and forth thing in which he didn't know which side of the line he would be standing on from one day to the next. "And what about the guards? I know that Arthur's already dealt with a few of the rougher ones that have came after you, but I doubt that is going to be enough to put a stop to what they do completely. What happens when one of them gets rough again? And Arthur… I'm not entirely sure about Arthur and his intentions with you. I mean, yes, he tried to help me after we returned from the griffin, went up against his own father and all that. But… you're already so uncomfortable around him. Anyone with eyes can see how you tense up when he's present, how you know exactly where he is even when he's not directly in front of you. It's a defense mechanism! So you can prepare yourself the next time he tries to come after you. Which he might, considering he's proven that he has no qualms about hurting you already. And if he finds out what you are beneath that charming Merlin mask of yours… what worse trauma can he cast down upon you?"

Merlin's breath caught somewhere in his throat, watching as Lancelot blinked a few times, the haziness in his eyes that came with Merlin's magic starting to fade as their bond settled somewhere deep in their veins. Was the bond what made Lancelot so protective of him? So desperate to keep him safe, even if it was from his own husband… no. Lancelot had already been like that, always so protective and determined to keep his friends safe. And Merlin was one of the friends he wanted to keep safe, it was even his job now to do so. But… those questions Lancelot had asked him had serious merit, and it left a chill settling in Merlin's bones where the warmth of their new bond had been. What WOULD happen once Arthur decided he was tired of pretending he cared, when he got bored of Merlin not giving him an inch of his time? How much monstrous could Arthur become when he didn't get what he wanted? How much further would Arthur go in order to safe that possessive quality that Merlin fears he has only seen the surface of. Because make no mistake, Arthur might be lying about all the other stuff he's been doing—lying about how sorry he was for what he has done to Merlin, lying about wanting to make a new start, lying about wanting to show Merlin he could be a changed man. But the possessiveness Merlin has seen in his eyes when he looked at him… was something entirely real. It felt as if it was something hot and sticky and could burrow itself somewhere beneath his skin, claiming pieces of Merlin that he did not wish to give. What would his future look like… bleak and helpless and desolate… once Arthur tossed aside this whole false persona he had going on… Merlin shut those thoughts off with an abruptness that startled even him. Those were exactly the kind of thoughts that led to Merlin thinking dark things, the kind of thoughts that had him dying to press his nails against his wrist and claw open his old wounds until he could bleed out whatever poison Arthur was leaving inside of him.

"Lancelot, I have absolutely no delusions about Arthur or the kind of man he's been to me. I'm the one that he's slapped around, and the one he has verbally knocked to the ground more times than I can count, and you don't even want me to explain how many times he has grabbed me. I have no doubt, should he discover what I am and what I can do, he'll use that opportunity to burn me on the pyre in front of half the city. Because that's the kind of man Arthur's shown me he is." Merlin said, his eyes steady as he spoke the truth on what he knew would happen to him someday… the only real question seemed to be WHEN it would happen. But he hadn't realized Lancelot, and probably others, had seen the way Merlin behaves around Merlin. It was practically subconscious on his part, he hardly even realized he had done it before Lancelot said something on it just now. But yeah, Merlin supposed he did always get all tense up and rigid whenever Arthur showed up. Practically waiting with bated breath for Arthur to cut his act and grab him already, like he used to do every waking moment the two of them were in each other's company. But… he's survived this far, even if it had nearly killed him the first time. "But I've also spent nineteen years being able to stay hidden. A lot of that was because of my mother, but she's taught me how to stay hidden myself, even if I didn't realize what she was doing when she was doing it. I know to be weary on him. You just focus on dealing with the outer villages, and let me handle what's going on inside these walls."

Merlin just hoped, in his heart of hearts, that he wasn't going to regret making the decision to stay right where he was. Freedom was practically at his fingers and all he had to do was get on top of Lancelot's stupid horse and allow him to carry him away from here. He wouldn't spend his days confused whenever the prince showed his face, wouldn't be frustrated because Arthur continued to do things he had never done in his damn life just to fool Merlin into following what he wanted. But some risks were too great, even for him. And he watched as his new knight—whose eyes were clear and whole and no longer fogged over from magic that was never his to feel—sagged his shoulders before nodding. Being the one man in Merlin's life that allowed MERLIN to make his decision, instead of trying to overwrite what he wanted and force their own agenda onto him. Of course though, it would happen when Merlin was uncertain whether or not this decision actually was the right one to make. But then again, Merlin was sure it was an impossible choice to make in the first place. Staying here in Camelot as he learned how to play the games nobility already knew like it was written right on the back of their hand. Or going with him, when he knew he one wrong step would be all it would take before Arthur caught them and decided to shed this mockery skin he's shown to Merlin this last week.

"Of course. I won't fail you. I'll look after the outer villages as you asked."

Lancelot ducked his head down, and Merlin felt his lips curling into this slight little grin, as he decided to ignore what could be the biggest mistake of his life so far, and simply enjoy this moment. It wasn't often Merlin didn't have to fight to the bitter end just to be heard, having to explain himself at least thirty or so different times just to be understood. Whenever Merlin talked to Arthur, it was as if the prince was desperate to get the last word in. Always willing to get into some stupid fight because he couldn't handle Merlin no longer being willing to play his stupid games. Merlin didn't need to worry about such things whenever it came to Lancelot. Because Lancelot was HIS. His friend, and his knight, and a companion, and perhaps he really was a brother. Merlin had never had one of those before, but if he did, he liked to think they would be just like the man he saw in front of him now. Somebody who was caring but not overbearing. A man with honor but without prejudice. A man who lived by his own code, instead of following the code of those who carried bigotry in their hearts.

"You know, I think we're really going to miss having you around here. I mean… I know for a fact that Gwen is going to miss you, at the very least. Perhaps your story with her doesn't have to end here. She would probably wait, if you asked her to wait for when the day comes that you'll be allowed within the city once again." Merlin couldn't help but say, breaking the solemn air that engulfed the two of them like a bubble with just the mention of that woman's name. Worked like a charm, it did, when he saw Lancelot's head pop up, already wearing this bright red color burning across his nose. If there was anything to cause a start in Lancelot, it was definitely the strong feelings he had for Merlin's best friend. The consort shook his head with a wide grin, ignoring the bittersweet stab that he felt in his heart—because they didn't KNOW if there would ever be a day he would be welcomed back within the kingdom. Perhaps after Uther had passed on, though only heavens know how long that would be. The king could still live another twenty or forty years for all they knew, baring any accidents that may cut that short. "Go on, Lancelot. Get out of here and live your best life. Do me proud as my First Chosen Knight. I give you my word, you won't find out about my death because of the rumor mill anytime soon, alright?"

Merlin stepped forward, stretching out his hand as he held it out toward First Knight Lancelot. He was trying to make a promise here between himself and Lancelot. A promise that was between men, between friends, between equals, and was something that would live between them. Merlin didn't want Lancelot to spend his days constantly wondering if Merlin had been killed off because he wasn't allowed in the city, and therefore couldn't do his duty as First Knight in full. It simply meant Merlin had another reason to keep fighting so hard just to keep living. Lancelot was relying on him to life, after all. What was a knight that had no man to guard? What was a friend who lost a friend? What could be a brother, who wasn't able to save his brother? Merlin had given this Lancelot a purpose by making him a knight, and now… it was Merlin's duty to continue the fight against his own mind. Merlin's smile grew into something soft and far more genuine when Lancelot stepped forward, reaching out and clasping their hands together. Brothers joined for what could very well be the last time.

"Perhaps, if you do manage to surpass the king—whether that king be Uther or Arthur—I'll be given my second chance with Guinevere. I can hardly dare make her stay true to me when I know our next meeting could be many years into the future. But I do wish, if there is anything I could wish for in the world, is for the prince to realize how truly special the consort he has in his care is. Maybe if he does, I won't be on the lookout for bad news coming from the city." The Knight of the Whytt Family said, his tone a low murmur that had Merlin's ears strain to hear them. The consort's face twisted a bit at hearing his fair well, knowing the prince was never going to believe such things. Merlin was a thorn in his side as he had always been, and one of these days, Arthur would show him how much he hated thorns again. It was only a matter of time before such things started to resume once again, the only difference is Merlin was ready for them. He had to be… Merlin watched with befuddlement as Lancelot maneuvered his hand to hold it so that his knuckles were facing upwards towards the sun. The Knight bowed down low, holding Merlin's hand up and saying in an even lower mutter, "And of course, I do hope that the fates will be kind. And grant us the fortune of being allowed to meet face-to-face one day soon, Consort Merlin."

Merlin's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline when Lancelot pressed a chaste kiss against the top of his knuckle. It was nothing more than a simple and innocent peck, something that would've been done for almost anybody in the court, but having it done to him sent a blush of embarrassment to Merlin's face. The last time somebody had kissed the back of his hand—he thought as Lancelot released him, and Merlin brought his hand up to cradle into his chest as if to hide it from view—had been Arthur. All those months ago, when Arthur had pressed a kiss there during that big fancy meet-and-greet the king made them do during the tournament. Merlin had been stupid back then, thinking it had meant anything more than it actually was. Merlin didn't have any delusions like that when it came to Lancelot… the man's heart already belonged with his best friend. And even if it hadn't, Merlin had already moved on from what little crush he had on Lancelot at the beginning of their time together. Lancelot was a great man, probably better than any man Merlin had ever met before in all of his life, but… he liked to think of Lancelot as a brother. One whose heart would beat in time with his magic.

And he was perfectly happy with that.

X

Somewhere inside the castle, in Lady Morgana's room to be specific, the dark haired Guinevere stood at her lady's window. The window in question looked out across the courtyard, and further ahead was the lower town., and just past that, Guinevere had the perfect view of the road that led to the gates. She had been practically attached right at this window ever since she arrived for work just this morning, waiting with bated breath for the young man that had gone and captured her almost immediately upon his arrival. It was a bittersweet day for Gwen, where it felt as if her heart was being taken away from her and she's helpless to do anything about it. But she didn't think she wanted to do a single thing about it. Wherever Lancelot went, she wanted him to be the one to carry her heart around with him. Whatever trouble he might face outside the walls of the kingdom, Gwen wanted him to feel that she was with him, even if she was unable to be there in person.

She bit down on her lip, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the collar of her burnt orange dress… the one Lancelot had told her she looked good with, when she had met him yesterday to spend the day with. Morgana had ended up being so understanding when she had given Gwen the day off, allowing the handmaiden the freedom to spend her day however she wanted to spend it. It had been a truly glorious day, so beautiful and peaceful as she was able to get to know Lancelot more. Gwen would even dare to go so far as to call it… a date with him. Just the term itself caused what felt like a herd of butterflies to start storming around in her stomach, red splotches coming forth on her cheeks. It would have been her first day, and considering Gwen had never met a man like Lancelot before in all her modest years… she was positive that he had ruined her for anybody else.

Gwen was never going to meet another man who would hold her hand with the same gentle attentiveness that Lancelot had held her hand when she had gave him a proper tour of the marketplace. She had never had a man brush away all the dirt that had been on the crates the two of them had sat down on so they could eat the sweetened rolls that had gotten from the bakery. She was never going to meet another man who asked her questions about herself and her life and actually look as if he CARED about what her answers were. Not once while they had talked, did Gwen feel as if Lancelot's attention was waning, as if he's starting to grow bored with her. The two of them had even ended up walking near the training grounds, where they found a thick oak tree, where the two of them could sit down at. And just… talk. God, they must have talked for hours and hours and hours… even now, Guinevere could feel the tiredness tugging at her limbs considering the late hour it had been when Lancelot had brought her back home, safe and sound.

But her smile proved she didn't care about how exhausting it was going to be for her to get through her workday. She would have done it again… she would have done it everyday if she could. Lancelot had been so open with her, even showing her a vulnerability that most men tried to hide. He had spoken about the things he would do now that he was leaving Camelot… and about just how worried he was about now knowing what his future was going to look like now that he didn't have his dream to propel him forward. Gwen wished she had the ability to soothe his worries, to know how she could help him, but Lancelot had said just having her listening made him feel better. She didn't know how, but… it was something she could relate to. After all, Lancelot had listened to her and her stories, sharing his silent strength with her when she had explained to him her traumatizing to the cells. Perhaps having somebody willing to hear you… is a magic all its own, that had absolutely nothing to do with magical powers that could get them arrested.

But… Lancelot had been the perfect gentleman with her.

Even when she hadn't wanted him to be.

The blush on Gwen's face deepened as she raised her fingertips to press them along her bottom lip. She still felt the phantom sting of her first kiss—with him, the specialness making her feet as if her heart was fluttering—against the skin of her mouth. But she felt the acute sting of their second kiss even more—the dark red hue on her face grew even darker as she remembered the way he had kissed her goodbye on her doorstep. One of his hands had been poised on her waist, never wandering towards her bottom or her bosom… she had heard the horror stories from girls in the laundry room. Of men taking their chances and touching something they weren't permitted to touch. But Lancelot hadn't been like that at her. He had… respected her, and the boundaries she hadn't known she had. He hadn't made her feel trapped at all, when his other hand had been placed against the warm skin of her cheek to guide her into a kiss that felt like it was only slightly deeper than their first kiss had been. So romantic it was, as the light of the full moon had shown down upon them, and the stars twinkling as if they had only been lit just for them. Gwen didn't think she would ever be able to see a full moon in the same way ever again, not after what Lancelot did to her on her doorstep beneath it.

Gwen was pressing a hand against her chest, feeling the way her heart tried to beat its way out of her skin, and she hardly heard the tinkling sound that came from Morgana placing down a vase she had been playing around with after the handmaiden had distractedly gotten her dressed this morning. She didn't even notice when Morgana, after playing with the flowers peeking their way out the top of the vase, walked across the room to join her at the window. There was a clear reflection of Morgana reflecting in her window just over Gwen's shoulder, and still… the young handmaiden didn't look up from where she kept her gaze trained on the road Lancelot would need to take to leave the grounds. She did not want to risk missing him, knowing it would devastate her if she missed her chance to get just one last glimpse of him. But maybe… maybe it was going to devastate her just the same, knowing he had come into her life and was gone just as fast.

Morgana seemed to realize the bitter sweetness of this moment, because she stayed blissfully silent as they waited together. Gwen had never been so rude in her life, to ignore the presence of not only her lady, but her friend. But… this was something serious. Something that was real. Lancelot had been some kind of gentle breeze when he had entered her life, hovering awkwardly on her door step as Merlin made himself at her in her kitchen area. And he had left her with a whirlwind of emotions she could hardly begin to grasp for herself. How she'd been able to live her entire life so far, and not realize there were emotions that she had somehow been missing was… mystifying to her. But perhaps, she had simply needed somebody to show her what she had been missing. Somebody like the knight that had stolen her heart like a theft in the night… a heart she'd all but left out on the table for him to claim.

"Gwen, there he is."

Morgana's quiet voice, hushed as if speaking any louder would have disturbed the stillness of the air around them, had Gwen's attention immediately. And her eyes fell onto the form of a man—too far away to make any real details of—ride his horse down the pathway she had been staring at all morning. It felt like her heart got caught somewhere in her throat when she was able to recognize the stretch of orange cloth she had fashioned into a cape fan out behind Lancelot. It was him, she knew it was him… the pang in her heart hit her as she watched his horse pausing in front of the gates. She had never felt so… pained, just by seeing somebody leaving. There had been many people who had come in her life over the years, and just as many who had left it. Servants among the castle were always coming and going or transferring to lesser estates or returning to their homes outside the city for one reason or another. But… seeing Lancelot was the one leaving this time, made her chest ache as if there was a thousand thorns trying to stab her.

"You know, when it was revealed who Lancelot really was, I had to sit down for dinner with Uther. And he spent the entire time complaining about him, about the circumstances leading up to arrest, how foolish he had been thinking he'd be able to trick the royal court into believing he was a noble. Uther was almost downright brutal about how he saw Lancelot." Morgana was speaking close to her ear, both of them watching as the men at the gates fumbled—pretty new to their job, it seemed—to get the gates open to let Lancelot out. But Gwen went tight in the face, her muscles tensing when she heard what Morgana had said to her. It wasn't any surprise to hear about it, Uther had probably already said much worse to Lancelot's actual face, than whatever he had said in the privacy of a meal with his ward. But it didn't make Gwen any less upset hearing about others badmouthing the sweetest man she had ever met in her life… probably the sweetest she would ever meet in her life. "But, I'm pretty sure I spent the entire meal wishing I had gotten the chance to know the man more. Any man brave enough to sneak around beneath Uther's very nose, is very much a man I wanted to see sticking about. The way Uther had talked about him… it makes one believe him to have done some kind of carnal sin against him. But, he was not a bad guy, this Lancelot… was he?"

Morgana had only gotten to meet Lancelot the one time, and the conversation hadn't lasted very long, from what little Gwen had seen. But… Gwen had spent far more time with him than any of them, except, perhaps Merlin. And the quiet handmaiden started to smile, remembering all the times that showed her how special Lancelot really was. Memories that echoed in her mind until she knew she would never forget them. The way Lancelot hadn't been able to keep eyes off her as she did her measurements the day they met, the way she had seen him marching up to the prince just to ask for a fair shot among them, wearing the very clothes Gwen had made for him. The way Gwen had offered him her favor, given to her by Merlin himself, and how he had accepted it even after he knew she couldn't afford to give him a proper one herself. The way Gwen had explained to him how important Merlin was to her—when he had struggled with coming to terms with Merlin's real identity—and how she would never choose somebody over her friend, and how he had accepted that with grace. The way Lancelot hadn't shied away from her when she explained how she had ended up accused of witchcraft, and how other people seemed to think that tainted her in someway still. How he had reacted when Gwen told him about the awful way Arthur treated Merlin, how he had leaped to the boy's defense even when they were in a difficult spot in their relationship. How Lancelot had hovered at the best of moments, as if he had always been there, looking out for trouble if it came their way. The way Lancelot had spent his celebration as a knight with her for the majority of the time, instead of spending it getting drunk with all of the other hair-brain knights at that event. The way Lancelot had worried about HER, when she had gone down in the cells to see him after his arrest, because he KNEW of her past history down there. Each new memory made her start to grin, and though she knew she should be sad because this was the last of the memories she would make with Lancelot… she was just happy they happened in the first place.

"No… he wasn't."

Gwen's voice was just as soft and as quiet as Morgana's had been, but she did not elaborate on what she meant. All those memories she had with Lancelot… it as something that belonged to her and her alone. And Merlin, of course, for he had been there at many of them. Another reason she should be grateful to have Merlin in her life… she never would've met Lancelot if he hadn't brought him right to her doorstep. Morgana, at least, seemed to understand why that was all she had spoken, and simply nodded as the two of them lapsed into this quiet silence. But, Gwen's heart started to thunder out of her chest like mad as she watched Lancelot's form finally ride through the opened gates. Eyes going wide as she whipped around to look at the lady standing by her side.

"M'lady… I won't sound mad if I ask… do you think… do you think Lancelot will ever be able to return?"

And then Guinevere—Lancelot always loved to call her by her full name, being sure to treat her as every much of a lady as a true born lady would have been treated—held her breath as she waited for Morgana's answer. The lady did not answer her for a long minute, Morgana's dark colored painted lips going into a thin line as she averted her gaze back out the window. Watching as the knights down there were fumbling to get the gate closed again, and Gwen's breath felt halted, her own heart stopping, as she waited and waited and waited. Knowing what she wanted to hear, but not knowing if it would hurt more for Morgana to tell her the truth. Or lie to her to space her feelings. It was only after this long second of silence had passed, did Morgana heave a sigh of her own.

"I don't suppose it's up to me to say whether or not he'll ever be allowed into the city. I don't believe Uther will ever change his mind, even after your fellow there slayed the griffin plaguing our lands. You know as well as I do that Uther is a stubborn man. Lancelot could probably save his life directly, and he would still turn him away because of his own stubborn pride." Spoke Morgana, words coated with apologies, and it wasn't what Gwen wanted to hear, but she knew Morgana already knew this. It was something Gwen needed to hear though, as it wouldn't do for her to live with her head in the clouds every day for the next several months to come because she was living with a false hope. "Perhaps it won't be anytime soon, but Uther cannot live forever. And sooner or later, it'll be Arthur standing on the throne and making the decisions. And you know, as horrid as he's treated Merlin, that Merlin has a way of turning things around in his favor. Perhaps one day, Merlin will be able to convince Arthur to overturn his unfair banishment, and allow Lancelot entrance to the kingdom again."

Gwen bit back a sweetened smile, it was a nice thought, and one that did not seem as farfetched as it could be. Perhaps things would change one day, even if it wouldn't be for many years to come. And until then—she thought while she turned to look once more out the window to see the last spot she has ever saw Lancelot standing—she would just have to continue living her best life. It was going to be a strange adjustment, going back to her working life as if she did not know Lancelot was out there roaming the countryside on his own. But she could do this, because she was a strong and capable woman who was able to survive whatever the world threw at her. She knew this to be true, it had been Lancelot who told her she was strong, basking in awe at her because of how she kept putting one foot in front of the other after her traumatizing time down in the cells. If spending three days down in those dank and dusty—freezing—wasn't enough to break her, then losing the first man who had really seen HER wouldn't break her either.

"Goodbye… for now, Lancelot."

Guinevere whispered her goodbyes beneath her breath, already anticipating a next meeting between her and the former knight. And when they did meet—if it was even a dozen years from now and she had already moved on with her life—she would have new stories to tell him. New adventures of the life she's lived here in Camelot, new facts about herself that she had learned as she grew and aged over the years to come. And Lancelot would have new stories to speak to her about as well, it was hard to imagine somebody traveling like Lancelot did and not having new stories to share about what he had seen on the road. She would be willing to listen to them all though, just as she knew Lancelot would listen to hers. Morgana smiled at her side though, as if she could hear what it was Gwen kept inside her mind and close to her heart, before nudging her on the arm to get her moving.

"Come along, Gwen. We've got a busy day today."

Gwen nodded, finally turning her back to the window to follow Morgana to her large vanity set up against the wall of her bed chambers, a quiet 'yes, my lady' on her lips at the same time. She still needed to have Morgana's hair fixed and poised for the luncheon she was attending in an hours time with the rest of the ladies of the court, daughters from other noblemen's that lived in the borders of the city. And afterwards, Morgana was expected to take a stroll through the courtyard, giving one of the new arrivals—the niece of a nobleman visiting for a short time—a tour of the grounds. And then Morgana would need to return to her chambers so Gwen could help her dress for the weekly dinner the king had always insisted the two of them have together so he could 'catch up' with what Morgana had been doing. Morgana always claimed though, that those dinners were simply a way for Uther to check whether or not any of the young men of the court had caught her eye yet or not, so he could decide whether or not it'd be an appropriate match…'

Yes, Gwen thought as she buried her hands in Morgana's dark locks of hair, so she could work out the kinks left behind from her restless sleep… she knew all was going to be alright in her world.

X

Merlin Pendragon wished he could have stood at the gates for far longer than he did, just so he could watch Lancelot riding away from the city for as long as he could before his new knight disappeared over the horizon. But Merlin could only figure the new knights were cautious about letting him anywhere near the gates, since they had closed up the doors pretty quickly while giving him weird and shifty looks. He could only guess that word had gotten around about what the results of the trial against Bryon and Julian had been, and they were quite leery about the same happening to them. Which was just ridiculous! It's not as if Merlin went about sentencing people to the cells on a whim! And considering the new guards at the gate hadn't tried murdering him, they didn't have even a single thing to worry about on that front!

But with nothing to held him standing there, Merlin decided to go ahead to his uncle's home—his home, he knew he still had a bit of work to do and he really wanted to finish that chapter he was working on about stitching. His uncle had already been talking about allowing him to do it in practice, instead of him just reading about it. On clothes and other similar items, of course, before he was allowed to touch an actual person… Merlin got caught up in his thought as he tried remembering all the details of the chapter he had been reading. But he'd been busy the last few days, what… with the griffin attacking, and dealing with the fallout of Lancelot, and the trial that finally needed to be put to rest. It was quite a busy few days for him…

"Well, it looks like somebody had a good time saying goodbye."

Merlin stalled in mid-step, the dirt kicking up around him as if it also knew that there was something amiss. And Merlin's posture went tight as he watched the prince of Camelot stepping out from an alleyway that Merlin hadn't noticed on his walk home. Perhaps, the consort thought as he narrowed his eyes sharply —narrowing in on the way Arthur had his arms crossed over his chest while he stared down at him—it wasn't him that the guards at the gate had been being so fearful of. Perhaps they had already seen Arthur, lurking around in the back of the outskirts like some kind of leach just waiting to attach itself to Merlin at any given notice. Arthur hadn't exactly made it any secret that he wasn't going to deny his knights a beating if they even so much as looked at him wrong.

Merlin was surprised he had allowed Lancelot to leave the kingdom instead of trying to stop him.

After all…

It was obvious, by Arthur's remark, that the prince had seen Lancelot kissing his hand before he left.