Archive of Our Own ^beta

“No!” Merlin shouted, reaching out his hand towards the Veil. He won’t let it have Arthur, and he won’t let it have Lancelot either. There had to be another way. He would make another way. Balance be damned. What was magic worth if it couldn’t save his friends, his—?

Surprising everyone in the room, all the air was sucked from the veil and into Merlin’s hand. The Veil, which seemed so ominous before, shrunk. It shrunk. Merlin watched the tear between the words pull towards his hand, towards his magic. The closer it got, the smaller it became. The damp, stone room warmed by several degrees.

Lancelot, whose boot brushed the opening of the Veil, stared at Merlin in wonder. Wonder and what Merlin dared to guess was pride. The smile on Lancelot’s face was gentle before, but in the face of Merlin’s magic, it reminded Merlin of a waxing moon.

“So you do challenge me!” The Cailleach laughed with a rattle in her throat, forcing Merlin’s attention away from the man willing to place his life before Merlin’s. For a servant. For a powerful sorcerer. For Arthur’s other half.

Merlin could scarcely think. Relief, love, and exhaustion packed together in his chest. “I’ll close the veil! Your price isn’t worth it,” he hissed over the pounding in his head and the tingling of his fingertips. The Veil was still being pulled towards him, knitting itself shut as it moved. If only it could close itself faster; the room was warming, but Merlin’s hand was chilling.

The Cailleach hummed. Her surprised grin faded. “A knight for a powerful sorceress seems like more than a fair price to me.”

“It’s not fair. None of this has ever been fair.” This destiny has taken too much from me, he wanted to add, but as the final stretch of the Veil disappeared, so did the air in Merlin’s lungs.

“Merlin?” Lancelot asked, worry evident in his voice. And he was right to worry, because Merlin groaned and fell to his knees, clutching onto his hand and trying to move away from it at the same time. Lancelot wasted no time in rushing over, barely sparing the Cailleach another glance.

She didn’t reach out to him, nor did she speak. She only watched as Lancelot knelt by Merlin and pulled him close, grasping Merlin’s shaking wrist with a strong hand and coaxing Merlin’s hand open with the pad of his thumb.

The touch, electric, hurt and soothed Merlin. He cried out, flinching. Nevertheless, Lancelot managed to pry the offending hand open, murmuring in Merlin’s ear as a farmer would for their sick cow, and steeled his face. A black cut stretched across the entire length of Merlin’s palm. Its edges were smooth, almost like waves, and wafts of fog poured out of it.

“The Veil is powerful, Emrys. More powerful than you. There is a reason I am its Gatekeeper; why Morgana and Morgause needed to sacrifice what they did to summon me.” Her voice echoed off the stone walls. Both men glanced up—although Merlin had to peer over Lancelot’s shoulder, the knight having placed himself firmly between the Cailleach and Merlin once more (stupid, Merlin thought. Brave, noble, he also thought)—but the old witch had disappeared from sight.

A groan to their side alerted Lancelot and Merlin they were not alone. Quickly, Lancelot tugged at Merlin’s neckerchief, the cloth falling easily on his touch, and tied it over the strange wound. It drew another wince from Merlin, but he refused to complain.

Boots scraped against the stone, announcing the additional presence of Gwaine.

“What happened?” Gwaine asked upon seeing the state of his friends: Arthur, seated on the floor and clutching his head; Lancelot coiled around Merlin, poised to defend the manservant; Merlin himself, pale, trembling, and wounded.

“We need to get them back to Camelot,” said Lancelot. His eyes leapt from Merlin to Arthur. “Help him to his horse. He hit his head when he fell.”

Merlin winced again. Lancelot, catching the expression from the corner of his eye, rubbed his thumb over the meat of Merlin’s palm—what little meat there was, anyway. It’s okay, the touch told Merlin. He’s safe, Lancelot’s eyes said.

But are you? Merlin tried to convey before his head rolled back.

“Merlin? Merlin!”

Voices teetered on the edge of Merlin’s consciousness. There was a period where he rocked back and forth, kept steady only by something wrapped firmly across his middle that pulled him into something else sturdy and warm.

It wasn’t until much later did Merlin have the energy to wake, and the waking came with a cacophony of ceramic breaking and wood clattering.

“Merlin?” two distinct voices asked. Far too loudly, in Merlin’s opinion, and he sat up to press a hand against his temple.

“Quieter, please,” he managed to say. His throat was raw.

Despite his plea, he heard additional clattering before sensing the two bodies now on either side of him. Merlin dared to open his eyes.

Gaius’ face was the first one he saw. Every wrinkle on Gaius was creased with relief and worry. “Welcome back, Merlin. You stupid, foolish boy.” Gaius let out a weak laugh that sounded wet. The bags under his eyes were almost as dark as the ones Merlin commonly sported.

“How are you feeling?” Another voice asked, and it could belong to no one else but Lancelot. Merlin turned his head. Light poured in from the window of his room, outlining Lancelot in gold and straining Merlin’s bleary eyes further. Seeing the warped expression on Merlin’s face, Lancelot leaned closer, incidentally blocking the sun fully now.

“Thirsty,” Merlin grunted.

Gaius and Lancelot shared a look above him. Merlin did not care to decipher it; he knew how the most protective forces in his life must be feeling now. What he truly cared for was a cup of water.

“I’ll get you a cup,” Lancelot promised, sincerity coloring his sentence like it was a vow greater than the one he swore to Arthur.

Merlin took the opportunity of less attention to take stock of himself. Before he could conclude how he truly felt after closing the Veil, however, he realized the infirmary was a mess. Several of Gaius’ herb jars sat in shards on the floor, firewood had been sent sprawling between the fireplace and the table used for both medicinal work and eating, and a chair was knocked over.

“Did we get robbed?” asked Merlin. Thankfully, Lancelot returned by his side with a cup of water, and Merlin’s throat felt a fraction better. Not much, but the pain seated behind Merlin’s eyes receded to a manageable level.

Gaius shook his head, smile slowly abating but still present. “Even when you’re unconscious, you manage to make trouble for me,” the physician joked. At Merlin’s confused and dry expression, Gaius chose to take pity on him. “No, we weren’t robbed. It was your magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you were sleeping, you were muttering incantations. One of which ended up making a mess you’ll clean later.”

Merlin sighed. “First it’s Arthur who never gives me a day off, and now it’s you too, Gaius. I never get any thanks.”

Seeing as Merlin’s humor remained intact, Gaius and Lancelot laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up you two. Not like I’m in excruciating pain or anything.” Those were the wrong words to say, however, because it swallowed up the sound between the three and replaced it with a more somber air. Merlin opened his mouth, but Gaius’ hands on his shoulder guided the manservant back into a supine position. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” Lancelot reassured him, gently taking the cup from Merlin’s hands and placing it on the tiny bedside table.

“You need to rest some more,” Gaius declared. “You’ll need it.”

Merlin’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

“What you did was incredible, Merlin. And incredibly stupid. You have no idea how much magic it takes to close the Veil,” the physician explained. “Lancelot told me what you did, and I looked at your hand.”

Merlin lifted his hand and saw it was now covered in a bandage. His throat was still bare.

“What’s wrong with my hand?”

“You took the Veil, Merlin. It’s not closed, not fully, but now it’s tied to your body and magic.” That was the reason Merlin’s hand had yet to cease buzzing, the wizard thought.

Merlin’s eyes darted across Gaius’ face. “So, how do we close it?”

“We have to wait while your body heals. Or…” Gaius inclined his head.

Lancelot then spoke up. “Gaius thinks releasing more of your magic could help. We’ll have to ride a distance from Camelot, however, if we don’t want Arthur or anyone else to see.”

Merlin sat up again, a thrill shooting down his spine. “You’re suggesting I use magic?”

“Indeed,” Gaius answered. “It may expel the Veil from your body, and if it does not close it… Well, I recommend you choose an isolated place for it to exist, and then we must research more on whatever else we can do. We don’t want the Dorocha to return to Camelot or cause trouble for anyone else.”

The thought of a long horse ride was not a pleasant one. “Do I have to go now?”

Gaius’ face softened. “You can rest for a few more hours. I cannot promise that more magic won’t spill out of you in the meantime, however.”

“Good. Now I have to think of an excuse to tell Arthur—other than the tavern,” Merlin added, glaring at the physician who had the decency to look embarrassed. “How is he, by the way?”

“He’s fine. A minor concussion, and he has Gwen looking after him now.”

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, his muscles relaxing. Everyone was safe. For once, it all seemed to work out. Of course, he then remembered there was something else he needed to know before he could rest fully.

“You,” Merlin opened his eyes and pointed at Lancelot, accusing, “what were you thinking? Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?” A lump grew in his throat. “It’s my destiny to protect Arthur.”

Gaius glanced at Lancelot and stood. The old physician was quiet while he walked down the stairs from Merlin’s room to the rest of the infirmary; he gave them as much privacy as he could while remaining on standby for Merlin’s health.

Lancelot met Merlin’s eyes, gaze unwavering. “I couldn’t let you sacrifice yourself Merlin.”

“I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me, either!”

“We’re at an impasse then.”

“Seems so. Why, Lancelot?”

The knight did not falter, though his voice lowered. “I found my reason, Merlin. Who I would gladly and knowingly give my life for. Who I would choose a thousand times over myself.”

Merlin could scarcely think, let alone form words. Yet he had to say them; he had to understand, because Lancelot’s words struck his heart like steel on flint. It had to be Gwen, Lancelot was talking about. He still loved her. There was no way Lancelot had let her go. Not for Merlin. “Who?”

“You, Merlin,” Lancelot said so easily. As easily as breathing. Breathing, which Merlin had stopped doing.

“Me?”

“No one else inspires me so.” Lancelot took Merlin’s bandaged hand and brought it to his lips. They brushed the gauze while those brown eyes burned into Merlin’s face. Merlin could hide nothing from that gaze.

“What about Gwen?” Truthfully, Merlin only brought her up because he felt he must; at this point, with the warmth bleeding from Lancelot’s mouth to his cold hand, Merlin couldn’t care less about any residual feelings towards Guinevere; she was a true friend, and Merlin would understand if Lancelot still loved her. Everyone should love her.

“I will never stop caring for her,” Lancelot spoke softly, “but our time has passed. I let her go, and she has found another. One who won’t leave her like I did.” A sadness stole over Lancelot, but it did not linger. “I see now it is you who resides in my heart now. Who has perhaps resided there all along.”

Merlin’s eyes felt hot.

“I understand if you do not return my affections, but I—”

Where words failed Merlin, action did not. Despite exhaustion and pain, Merlin flung himself at Lancelot, wrapping his arms around the knight and tilting his head up to introduce his lips to Lancelot’s.

Surprised but eager, Lancelot welcomed Merlin into his embrace, chasing the wizard’s mouth with his own. A noise passed between them, but neither of them knew where it originated. All that mattered was the imprint they wanted to leave on the other.

The creak of the wooden door broke their kiss, but Lancelot kept his head bowed to Merlin, the smile on his face mirroring Merlin’s own.

“Ah, I see you’re feeling better already,” Gaius remarked, one of his eyebrows raised in the way it always did, but the physician held a smile of his own. “I’ll prepare the food for your journey.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” both men echoed and blushed. Gaius nodded and departed from the room once more.

“Will you come with me?” Merlin already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it out loud. Call him selfish.

Lancelot reached up to wipe the stray tears on Merlin’s cheeks. “Not even destiny could pull me away.”

Merlin responded to Lancelot’s promise the only way he knew how.