Work Text:
Even though they were protected from the Dorocha by the Vilia, one look at Merlin’s prostrate form reminded Lancelot that all was not yet well. He gathered the warlock in his arms and carried him over to where the forest floor was springy with moss. It was hardly adequate, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. After laying Merlin down and tucking the cape around him, Lancelot took his hand, which was still cold, and brought it to his lips, whispering, ‘You’ll be fine, Merlin.’
He was convinced they were indeed safe for the night and knew that he should take the opportunity to rest, but he couldn’t, not while Merlin was still teetering on the brink between life and death. So he sat by the warlock’s side, gripping his hand and looking for any signs of improvement. It didn’t seem as if he was in pain, which was a relief, but he remained unconscious, and that worried Lancelot. Thus, he did what Merlin would have encouraged him to do were he awake. He started talking about his fears.
‘I always knew that you were the bravest of us all, but what you did today… I wouldn’t change anything about you, but it’s hard not to wish sometimes that you weren’t so selfless. Because I’m scared of losing you, Merlin. I’m scared that one day, I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone. But I know I can’t ask you to be careful for my sake. I’m just Lancelot, and my feelings do not matter in the grand scheme of things. I know you have a path that you can’t stray from, so I have no choice but to follow you and hope for the best. But I wish you’d tell me where you get that courage from because I really need it right now.’
Merlin stirred and mumbled something. Lancelot leaned closer, his heart beating wildly.
‘What?’
‘Cold…’
The knight didn’t hesitate. He stretched out beside the warlock, put his arms around him and pulled him close.
‘You’ll be fine, Merlin,’ he repeated. ‘I’m here.’
He could feel Merlin’s heartbeat now, and it was getting stronger with every second. Lancelot sighed with relief but fought the urge to close his eyes. They were not out of the woods yet.
He kept his vigil, silent this time, for hours. It was very peaceful on the bank of the stream, no doubt thanks to the Vilia’s protection, and he looked up at the starry sky visible through the canopy of trees, thinking of what someone had once said to him, ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.’ For much of his life, he had thought that he was better off alone. It was Percival who convinced him that it wasn’t true, but only because Merlin had sown that seed in his mind long before.
His thoughts flew back to another starry night when they had made camp in the forest on their way to visit Merlin’s mother in Ealdor. They had been lying under one blanket by the fire, and Lancelot had been recounting stories he had heard during his ‘travels’ (that’s what Merlin liked to call the time when the knight had been a sword-for-hire—making it sound more romantic than it had been). One of them was about a man whose return home from the war took ten years, during which he had to face many tests and dangers. After he had finished telling it, Merlin had turned to him and asked quietly, ‘And where is your Ithaca, Lancelot?’, and he had replied without hesitation, ‘Here, right here.’ Because in that moment, he had realised that he had been on a similar journey and that his wanderings had finally brought him to the place he had unknowingly yearned for all this time, the place by Merlin’s side.
In the story, that had been the ending. For them, it had been a beginning.
The warlock stirred and blinked his eyes open.
‘Where are we?’ he yawned.
‘In a safe place. How are you feeling?’
‘Better. Still tired, though.’
‘Then go back to sleep. I know it’s not the most comfortable–’
‘Shh, it’s perfect,’ Merlin muttered drowsily, closing his eyes again.
‘It is?’
‘Mhm. No better bed than you.’
Lancelot smiled and was about to respond with a Gwaine-worthy joke (because the relief that Merlin seemed to be getting better was making him light-headed) when the warlock added suddenly, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind being compared to furniture,’ the knight assured him with a wide grin.
‘No, not for that.’
‘Then for what?’ Lancelot asked, feeling an unpleasant shiver go down his spine, but Merlin had already dozed off again. It didn’t matter, though, because he really did know the warlock too well, and so everything became clear in an instant. ‘You’re planning something, aren’t you? And since you haven’t told me, it must be something I won’t like, and you want to make sure that I can’t stop you.’
He swallowed hard and tightened his hold on the warlock.
‘I’ve made a vow to Gwen to keep Arthur safe, but long before that, I made a vow to you. For better or for worse, remember? So whatever it is, you won’t be doing it alone.’
Because that was what they did. They faced dangers together: the griffin, the Immortal Army, and now the Cailleach. Lancelot might have sworn to protect Arthur and Camelot, but the cause to which he had really pledged his sword and his heart was aiding Merlin. And nothing, not even Merlin himself, was going to stop him from doing that.
He had reached his Ithaca, and he had no intention of ever leaving it.