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Merlin put the tray laden with food that he had brought into the banquet hall on the table and grinned at Gwen.
‘Now, doesn’t that look familiar?’ he said teasingly, motioning to where Arthur and Lancelot were talking, cups of wine in hand.
‘Merlin…’ Gwen blushed, having clearly understood to what he was referring.
‘What? I find it really amusing that my question back then turned out to be not so hypothetical after all. I just hope you’re not regretting your choice.’ He winked at her, and she shoved him playfully.
‘Don’t worry, he’s all yours.’
Merlin spluttered, feeling his cheeks burn.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Gwen rolled her eyes.
‘Oh, so I’m imagining that Lancelot’s looking at you like he used to look at me? And you couldn’t be more obvious either. I’m very happy for you both, by the way,’ she added, squeezing his arm.
‘But we’re not… like that,’ Merlin protested lamely, and she raised an eyebrow in surprise.
‘Why?’ She paused, and then her brow cleared. ‘Ah, of course, you probably had no time to talk about it yet. Well, here’s your chance.’
Merlin shook his head.
‘It’s a bad idea.’
She smiled at him reassuringly.
‘Are you afraid that he doesn’t feel the same way? Don’t be. I told you, I know that look.’
The warlock shook his head again. He didn’t doubt the nature of Lancelot’s feelings—and that was precisely the problem.
He mumbled an excuse and slipped outside, pausing in the doorway to glance back at the crowd milling in the banquet hall. He was glad that despite all the pressing problems occupying Arthur’s mind, the prince had organised a celebration for his newest knights. Merlin smiled at the sight of Gwaine entertaining a pair of female courtiers, Elyan discussing something with Leon, and Percival sitting at a table, looking a little overwhelmed but content nevertheless. And Lancelot… Lancelot who had just finished talking to Arthur and whose eyes were roving around the room, clearly looking for someone.
Merlin ducked out of sight and made a strategic retreat to the kitchens. He thought he would be able to hide out in there, but Audrey was in no mood to have non-essential people getting underfoot, so he was soon driven out by vigorous thrusts of a ladle. He was still technically supposed to be serving wine back at the hall, but he thought it more prudent to avoid Lancelot tonight. He could not help but be reminded by the celebrations of what had occurred during the knight’s first stay in Camelot, and that was a dangerous mood in which to have the conversation they needed to have. In fact, it would more than likely lead to Merlin forgetting all his prepared arguments and going clean against what he knew was the sensible thing to do in this situation. So it was all-around smarter to wait it out.
Unfortunately, he neglected to take into account that Lancelot might want to seek him out—and succeed.
‘Merlin?’
The warlock turned around, cursing silently. Not only had he failed to escape Lancelot tonight, he had also managed to do exactly what he was supposed to avoid at all costs, namely, lured the knight away from the celebrations. The last thing Lancelot needed was to be seen with him in the corridor leading to the kitchens.
‘You should be out there celebrating,’ Merlin said in a rush, glancing around to make sure they were alone.
Lancelot gave a small shrug.
‘I wanted to celebrate with you.’
There was no innuendo in his voice, and yet Merlin felt himself go weak.
‘What did you have in mind?’ he asked, forgetting that he was supposed to be smart about this and keep his distance. He was too busy blushing at the memory of how they had celebrated Lancelot’s first knighting.
Lancelot leaned towards him, and the warlock held his breath as the world spun around him dizzily.
‘Take me to the top of the highest tower?’
Merlin blinked. That was an unexpected request… or maybe not that unexpected because he suddenly remembered the look on Lancelot’s face as he gazed out of the window in Merlin’s room. He had never been this high up before, he had said with that endearingly awestruck expression, so it was no wonder that he wanted to repeat that experience now that he got another chance. The warlock was just pleased that Lancelot wanted to share it with him…
He pulled himself together with difficulty. This was a very bad idea. If he took Lancelot to an out-of-the-way place where they would be alone and undisturbed, he could kiss his self-restraint and clarity of mind goodbye. He would never be able to explain to the knight why this couldn’t happen because he would be busy fooling himself that it could, sending Lancelot very mixed signals in the process.
But how could he refuse in face of Lancelot’s excited anticipation? He sighed resignedly and clung to the hope that the night air would cool his head and prevent him from doing anything, well, enjoyable but stupid.
They didn’t talk as they hurried to the tower, Merlin propelled by the desire to minimise the risk of being seen and Lancelot probably by the eagerness to get his wish. But the silence was charged somehow, and the warlock heaved a sigh of relief when they finally reached their destination. Lancelot went over to the battlements immediately. There was not much to be seen in the dark, of course, but the vastness of space around them could still be felt. The knight stood motionless, drinking it in, while Merlin studied his profile, which was illuminated—very advantageously—by the moonlight. His feelings for Lancelot ran deeper than solely physical needs, but it didn’t mean the warlock didn’t appreciate what he saw. He was nevertheless starting to relax because it seemed that things weren’t progressing in the direction he had feared… only then Lancelot turned to him with a truly scorching look.
‘Thank you,’ he said in a low voice, ‘for bringing me here.’
Merlin flapped his hands and laughed nervously.
‘Don’t mention it. Any time. The tower’s always here, you know,’ he babbled but stopped abruptly when Lancelot caught both of his hands.
‘I meant: to Camelot.’
Uh, oh.
‘Yes, well, thank you for coming,’ the warlock replied in what he hoped was a breezy tone, cursing his heart for speeding up like it had done in the forest when Lancelot had arrived so miraculously to save them from the Immortal Army. ‘We needed all the help we could get. And you brought Percival. Good thinking, that.’
‘You sent for me,’ Lancelot said quietly, ignoring Merlin’s attempt to lighten the mood, and then added even more softly, as if he was confessing something, ‘I’d been hoping you would send for me.’
The warlock tried to withdraw his hands (because things were definitely progressing now in the direction he had feared), but Lancelot gripped them firmly.
‘I’m sorry for leaving you alone before. It won’t happen again, I promise.’
Until that moment, Merlin hadn’t realised how much he longed to hear such a declaration. For a second or two, he wanted nothing more than to burrow into the knight’s chest and have him whisper, over and over again, ‘I will never let you go.’ But that, of course, would be contrary to the plan. And he needed to stick to the plan.
He pulled his hands away sharply and put some distance between them.
‘You should go back to the celebrations.’ He knew he sounded cold and expected Lancelot to look hurt, but there was only confusion on the knight’s face.
‘Do you want me to go?’
The answer Merlin needed to give to that question was obviously the opposite to the one he wanted to give, so he steeled himself before replying, ‘Yes.’
Lancelot narrowed his eyes.
‘I don’t believe you,’ he said bluntly.
The warlock felt his heckles rising. Why did Lancelot have to make it more difficult than it already was?
‘Oh? And why is that? Because you “know me too well”?’ he quoted sarcastically.
Lancelot didn’t flinch.
‘Yes. And because I know how it is to convince yourself that you need to push someone away for their own good.’
Merlin paused. He hadn’t considered that, but the situation certainly resembled the one Lancelot was referring to. The warlock was also trying not to come between someone he cared about and something that was important to them, something that they deserved.
‘Then you should understand why I’m doing this,’ he said quietly. ‘We live in different worlds now. You are a knight, and you need to act like it. Right now, you should be at that celebration, drinking with your equals, not skulking around the castle with a servant.’
‘We are equals!’ Lancelot protested. Merlin found his indignation very sweet, but it didn’t change the fact that the knight’s sentiment was naïve.
‘Not in the eyes of the world.’
‘But the Round Table–’
‘Is only an idea,’ Merlin cut him off with a weary shrug. ‘A very fine one, no doubt, but it will take time to catch on. Meanwhile, you need to think of your reputation.’
‘I don’t care about my reputation.’
‘You should,’ the warlock countered impatiently. Lancelot had his stubborn look on, which didn’t bode well for Merlin’s chances of persuading him, but he had to try. ‘You’re not just any new knight. It’s different for the others. Gwaine is an actual nobleman, Elyan is Gwen’s brother, and Percival… well, you know how he inspires respect in people. But you… you’re the new knight who, back in the day, forged his seal of nobility and broke the First Code of Camelot. Don’t you get it? You’re not starting with a clean slate.’
‘I know. But that’s just it. People know that I did those things. They can hardly expect me to be, well…’ Lancelot cast around for a suitable word, ‘conventional. So why should I make myself miserable and pretend that I’m not in love with you just because some courtiers wouldn’t like it?’
The warlock closed his eyes for a moment.
‘You can’t say things like that…’
‘Why?’ Lancelot took a step back with a worried frown. ‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’
Merlin almost growled in frustration.
‘No, of course not. You know perfectly well I’m in love with you too,’ he admitted gruffly because there was no point in lying to Lancelot, although he soon wished he hadn’t—the smile that broke out on the knight’s face at the confession weakened his resolve considerably. He clenched his fists. He needed to stay on course. ‘But we should just… forget about it.’
Lancelot’s smile vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
‘You’re the one who told me that I can’t go around pretending that my feelings do not matter,’ he pointed out, unable to keep an accusing note out of his voice.
Merlin grimaced. Why did the knight have to remember that particular piece of advice?
‘Of course you shouldn’t ignore your feelings,’ he replied, trying to keep his temper in check. ‘But it’s not always wise to act on them. I can’t let you jeopardise your future, your career because of me. Your dream is to serve with honour, and I… I would be in the way of that.’
‘How could you possibly be in the way of that?’
‘I’m a sorcerer and a servant, Lancelot! People may not know about the former and about the fact that you’re betraying Arthur by harbouring me—and I wish I could change the past so that you’d never learned about my magic because it puts you in so much danger—but they are very well aware of the latter, and I won’t have them judging you and saying that you’re degrading yourself by carrying on with me.’
‘Whoever thinks it’s degrading is not worth my respect, and I don’t care about their opinion,’ Lancelot said fiercely. ‘I am not ashamed of you.’
Merlin was fairly certain that no profession of love, no matter how poetic, could have made his heart flutter as wildly as this simple statement had. Which was unfortunate because it was getting more and more difficult not to surrender in face of Lancelot’s impassioned arguments. Nevertheless, someone had to be smart about this, and clearly that job fell to the warlock.
‘There are better ways to make a mark. Do you really want to be remembered for–’
‘For being happy? Very much so. Look, Merlin, you’re right. It is my dream to serve with honour, but I don’t see why I need to give you up to be able to do that. However,’ he added, seeing that Merlin was about to interrupt him, ‘if you’re worried about what people will think, we could keep us a secret. Nobody needs to know.’
It was a solution of sorts, but Merlin’s whole soul rebelled at the prospect.
‘No, keeping secrets is exhausting. Besides, Gwen has already noticed, so it’s not like we would be very good at it.’
Lancelot started, as if struck by a sudden thought.
‘Wait… since we’re that obvious… maybe we could use that to our advantage. It would be the perfect excuse for when we would need to sneak away to deal with some threat to Arthur.’
Merlin threw him an exasperated glance.
‘That is your worst idea yet. Now you want Arthur accusing me of distracting you from your duties?’
‘Why do you assume he won’t accuse me of distracting you?’ Lancelot smirked a little.
Merlin threw his hands up.
‘You’re not taking this seriously,’ he complained.
Lancelot’s gaze darkened.
‘Oh, I assure you I am. But I am done with putting my head over my heart. I’ve seen how fleeting life is. You’re in constant danger, and I wake up every single day scared for you.’
‘I worry about you too.’ They were once again standing so close that he could smell the wine on Lancelot’s breath.
‘Then why can’t we have this bright, good thing to carry us through it?’
Merlin had no answer to that.
‘Remember the griffin? And the Cup of Life? We’re good at beating the odds, so… let’s beat them again.’
It sounded foolish and irresponsible, but wasn’t throwing caution to the wind their specialty? And perhaps Lancelot was right. Carrying the burden of his destiny was already hard enough. Why should he deny himself this little bit of happiness?
The knight must have seen in his eyes what decision Merlin had reached because he smiled almost triumphantly, and the warlock couldn’t help but huff in annoyance at being defeated.
‘Are you going to be so mulishly stubborn about everything?’ he grumbled.
‘I promise to let you win an argument once in a while.’
‘How generous of you. But don’t imagine you’ll always have it this easy. I’ll learn to say no to you.’
‘Is that so? Then you should probably start practicing right away.’ Lancelot gave him a positively wicked grin. ‘For example… would you mind if I kissed you now?’
Merlin rolled his eyes and threw his arms around the knight’s neck.
‘Clever clogs.’
‘Is that a no?’
‘Yes.’
(Needless to say, they didn’t make it back to the celebrations that night. And even if Lancelot raised some eyebrows by wearing Merlin’s neckerchief tied around his arm during the tournament a couple of weeks later—well, it was worth it.)