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Chapter Text

The Shade slowly took off his helmet, his gaze never leaving the face of the King’s betrothed. She looked dumbstruck and not exactly happy to see him, but his lady had warned him that Guinevere would probably need some time to get over the initial shock of her dead first love appearing before her.

He glanced to the right and inclined his head to the King courteously. Arthur stood motionless, even more surprised than his fiancée, it seemed. Well, ‘Lancelot’ did make an entrance, no doubt about that.

The Shade turned back to Guinevere, trying to decide what his next move should be. His lady had told him that Lancelot used to smile a lot, but it was hard when you’d never done it yourself. And what kind of a smile should it be in this situation? Apologetic, bashful, hopeful?

Suddenly, he felt someone grip his hand, which was still holding the reins. He looked down to see the servant, Merlin, gazing up at him with incredulity but also… joy?

‘Lancelot,’ he whispered, and the Shade was momentarily thrown off-kilter by a strange sensation in his chest. It felt like his heart had stopped for a second and then started beating in a staccato rhythm that was quite distracting.

He shook his head and focused on the King, who was approaching them with a look of utter disbelief on his face.

‘Lancelot?’ he asked hesitatingly, and the Shade dismounted and went down on one knee before him.

‘Your Highness.’ He flexed his hand, the one the servant had touched, to stop it from tingling.

‘What are you–? How–?’

‘It’s a long story, Sire, but I’m back.’ The Shade decided on a tentative smile and glanced furtively at Guinevere to gauge its effect.

‘Lancelot!’ The muscular knight, Percival, snatched him in a bear hug, and then the Shade found himself in a crowd of people, all clapping him on the shoulder, asking questions, and grinning in more or less astonished delight.

‘Let him breathe! Sire, shall we call it a day?’

‘Yes, yes, Leon, you’re right. Tell…’

But the Shade didn’t hear the rest because the servant clasped his hand again and muttered in his ear, ‘Come on, Lancelot.’

He blanked out for a moment and then found himself following Merlin obediently to the tent. They had barely stepped inside when the servant turned and wrapped his arms around him gingerly as if afraid the knight would burst like a soap bubble when touched.

‘I can’t believe you’re really here. I’ve missed you so much, Lancelot.’ The Shade stood rigidly, fighting the sudden urge to return the embrace and… what?

He steeled himself. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to bring him closer to fulfilling his lady’s wishes.

‘It’s good to see you too, Merlin,’ he replied in a clipped tone. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to change.’

There was a pause, and then the servant slowly drew back.

‘Do you want help with that?’ he asked in a strange voice (the Shade couldn’t explain how he knew it was strange, but he was certain of it).

‘No, you may go.’

Merlin’s expression suggested that it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

Chapter Text

The dinner was not wholly a success. Although they all seemed to believe his story about being found by the Madhavi people, Guinevere gave no indication that she was happy to see him for any other reason than the fact that they had been friends. And the servant kept looking at him with suspicion, which was a little unnerving because the Shade was certain he had convinced everybody else.

He was going to try and talk to Guinevere alone but instead found himself walking with Merlin to the servant’s quarters. The way he couldn’t help being drawn to him was unnerving as well. Merlin was too close to Arthur and probably the last person to be of any assistance in bringing the Shade’s plan to fruition (even unknowingly). Every minute spent with him was thus a minute wasted. And yet here they were, on the way to Merlin’s room, even though ‘Lancelot’ had been offered his old chambers, which would have served the Shade’s purpose much better.

They walked in tense silence, both clearly sensing that something was off but unable to put their finger on it. When the door finally closed behind them, however, the servant said with apparent ease, ‘You can have my bed.’

The Shade protested only half-heartedly because, for some unfathomable reason, everything in him screamed to accept.

‘Really, after all you’ve been through… it’s the least I can do.’

It was easier just to give in.

‘Thank you, Merlin.’

After all, it didn’t really matter where he stayed. When the servant left, he would be free to go and meet with Lord Agravaine to receive further instructions. Only it seemed Merlin had no intention of leaving…

‘I’ve spent so long thinking about… what happened,’ his voice was strange again. ‘Could I have saved you? And if there was anything I could have done. If I could have used magic…’

The Shade started. Why would Merlin bring up magic? Did he suspect something? But how?

‘I don’t think it’s safe to mention magic here,’ he stalled, trying to decide if it would be better to change the topic or find out the intention behind this remark.

Merlin hesitated, something akin to hope flickering in his eyes, then put a hand on his shoulder.

‘You know we can talk about anything in this room?’ he prompted.

The Shade felt compelled to nod, although he wasn’t entirely sure what the servant meant.

Merlin bit his lip and took a step closer.

‘I’m not angry with you, Lancelot, for what happened on the Isle of the Blessed. I could never be angry with you. So if you need help… remembering anything, I’m here.’

The Shade’s mind raced. He shouldn’t get distracted. It was time he politely asked the servant to leave and concentrated on fulfilling his lady’s orders…

‘Will you stay?’

He was surprised by his own question for exactly two seconds before the smile that spread slowly across Merlin’s face made him forget about everything else.

‘Where did you think I would go?’

«»«»«»

He knew he should get up, get dressed, and find Lord Agravaine. Or Guinevere. Or do literally anything other than this. But he couldn’t tear himself away from Merlin, who slept peacefully in his arms as if it was the most natural place for him to be. And maybe it was. The Shade was beginning to think that his lady had been very, very wrong about all of this.

Minutes passed, then hours, and he still lay there, unable to let go of Merlin and leave. It was too late now, anyway, he reasoned with himself. The plan would have to wait till the morning.

But when dawn came and sunlight streamed into the room, Merlin woke up and turned to him with a smile, whispering delightedly, ‘So it wasn’t a dream… Oh, Lancelot.’ And then the Shade was no more.