Chapter Text
Lancelot had a dilemma. He had already been watching Merlin before the Dorocha had nearly killed him, and if Merlin’s intentions hadn’t been obvious then, they were now. He was going to save Arthur, which was good in and of itself, but Lancelot didn’t approve at all of the chosen method to do so.
He couldn’t let it happen, that much was clear. The problem was that the only way to stop it would mean to betray Merlin’s trust, and what honour would Lancelot have left then. None.
Across the hall, Merlin chuckled as he was talking to Gwaine.
Lancelot wavered, and when Merlin laughed again, his resistance broke. He straightened, got to his feet, and tapped Arthur on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow.
His tension must’ve shown on his face, because Arthur frowned, but didn’t argue or comment on the silent request. Only once they were a safe distance away, and Lancelot turned to face him, did he speak up.
“This better be important.”
“It is, sire,” assured Lancelot. He glanced at Merlin on the far side of the room, still talking and laughing with Gwaine. If he had to choose between breaking Merlin’s trust or watching him die, well, there really was no choice at all. He took a deep breath.
“It’s about Merlin. There’s something you should know.”
“MERLIN!”
Arthur’s shout was loud enough to echo back from the walls, and Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. He twisted around, then scrambled to his feet when he saw Arthur coming towards him with an expression that was nothing short of murderous. What the hell was the prat mad about now? He hadn’t even done anything!
“What is—”
“Outside,” snarled Arthur, grasping his arm and dragging him along.
They’d taken barely two steps when Lancelot blocked Arthur’s way. He looked worried, almost pleading, and Merlin’s gut sank with premonitory dread.
“Sire — Arthur — remember what I told you,” he implored. His eyes darted to Merlin, and the guilt in them made Merlin’s insides turn to ice.
No.
“Merlin, I’m sorry, there was no other choice.”
No, he wouldn’t.
“Believe me, I never wanted to break your trust—”
Lancelot would never!
“—but I couldn’t stand by and let you sacrifice yourself. Please, understand.”
Something inside Merlin broke; his body went numb, his mind blank. All that was left was a sharp hurt in his heart that felt so utterly wrong, it was agonising. Because that hurt shouldn’t be there, it shouldn’t exist; the only thing that would produce this kind of pain was never supposed to happen. It couldn’t. It couldn’t because this was Lancelot and Merlin trusted him.
Yet, here they were.
“Understand what?” Gwaine chimed in. “What the hell is going on?”
Arthur’s grip tightened. “This doesn’t concern you. Merlin, outside, now.”
“Oh no, absolutely not,” said Gwaine, moving to block their path as well. “Whatever this is about, you can discuss it here.”
Merlin was still staring at Lancelot, his thoughts nothing but a whirlwind of why and how could he and what’ll happen to me now.
“Oh, were you in on it as well? How lovely,” spat Arthur.
“In on what?” asked Percival, who had also gotten to his feet now.
Arthur glared at Merlin, then, turning him by the arm so they were facing each other.
“Merlin has magic.” Arthur’s eyes flashed with fury on the word magic.
Gwaine moved forward, drawing his sword as he barked a sharp response, but the words were drowned out by the buzzing in Merlin’s ears. They were shouting.
Merlin couldn’t hear them.
Great, he was going to die and then Arthur would sacrifice himself. Whatever logic Lancelot had seen behind this, it wasn’t a very good one. How could he? Somehow, the betrayal felt worse than impending death.
“—like an idiot!” Arthur was yelling as he gave Merlin a rough shake, startling him out of his numb trance.
“What?”
“STOP PLAYING DUMB, MERLIN!” Arthur roared. “Lancelot told me everything and I won’t let you!”
Increasingly confused, Merlin blinked at him. “Let me? Let me do what?”
“Take my place to close the veil! What the hell were you thinking? Why wouldn’t you tell me, so we could fight this? Would you rather have died than trust me?!”
“I— What?!” Merlin didn’t understand anything anymore.
Arthur stepped closer, putting his other hand on Merlin’s shoulder and shaking him again. Gwaine twitched at the movement, but didn’t intervene. Neither did Lancelot — though Merlin supposed that made sense, if Lancelot cared enough about Merlin to protect him, he wouldn’t have told Arthur in the first place. Wouldn’t have betrayed him.
“You tried to leave me,” Arthur accused.
It was so far from the accusation Merlin had expected, he automatically shook his head, blinking at Arthur in utter confusion. What in the name of the Goddess was Arthur on about?
“I didn’t,” he replied dumbly, still trying to process what was happening.
“You did,” spat Arthur. “Or you would’ve if Lancelot hadn’t scraped together his common sense and told me! Well, that’s not going to happen. You are not allowed to do stupid shit like that — that’s an order and you will do as you’re told or may the gods help me!”
Merlin gaped at him, speechless. This wasn’t what he’d imagined Arthur’s reaction to be when he learnt of his magic.
“Aren’t you angry about the magic?” he asked finally, incredulous.
Arthur scoffed. “Of course I am angry! You lied to me for years, while I trusted you with all of me — so, yes, I am furious, Merlin. But—” He gripped Merlin’s shoulder tighter, preventing him from flinching away, sky blue eyes boring into Merlin’s. “—I would never hurt you, and I won’t let you hurt yourself in some foolish attempt to save me either. You are not allowed to leave me like that, do you understand? I couldn’t bear it.”
In the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gwaine and Lancelot relax. His own body wasn’t so quick on the uptake. His heart was racing, and he couldn’t seem to breathe properly. Arthur’s hand had gone from his arm to cradling his head at some point Merlin had missed in his overwhelm, but now his skin burned under the touch.
“Do you understand?” Arthur pressed.
He wasn’t sure he did, but he forced a breathy, “Yeah, alright.”
They were so close, barely two fingers’ width between their faces, and the riot inside Merlin eroded his rational self-control. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d leaned in and closed the distance.
There was no hesitation in Arthur’s response. The hand on Merlin’s shoulder dropped around his back to pull him closer, the other slid up into his hair. It sent a shock through Merlin’s entire body; the feeling of Arthur’s lips against his, chapped and dry and warm and perfect.
“Oi! Is this really the time? Get a room!” heckled Gwaine.
They broke apart, and Merlin felt his face heat.
“Sorry, I—”
“Don’t you dare apologise,” Arthur cut him off, and leaned in again to give Merlin a short peck on the lips. “But, as much as it pains me to say, Gwaine is right. We’ll talk about it after we’ve dealt with the veil — all of it.”
Merlin let out a shaky exhale and nodded. “Alright, yeah.”
“Good.” Arthur smiled, then, and Merlin’s heart promptly skipped several beats.
Goddess help him.
“Now, about this Cailleach — what do you really know about it? If we’re going to find a way to close the veil without a sacrifice, we need to consider every bit of information we have. And if it comes to a fight, we need a way for us to help you without having magic of our own.”
“You— You want me to fight the Cailleach?”
“No! I want you to close the veil, but we can’t know how things will turn out, can we?”
“I— You want me to use magic to try closing the veil?”
“Why yes, Merlin, do keep up.”
Merlin couldn’t help it, he burst into laughter. Of course Arthur would simply get down to business, and he was right with it. There would be time for explanations, time for apologies — time for forgiveness, not just for Merlin.
His heart felt about to explode with pure joy and relief, and suddenly the Cailleach didn’t scare him in the slightest. Arthur knew. Arthur knew and he was on his side.
Destiny had finally arrived.