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Chapter Text

Merlin sat in Gaius's chambers, eyes fixed on the closed door to his small room behind which the shade of his one-time friend lurked. Patient. Waiting. But for what? Lancelot had ceded the tournament to Arthur, hadn't taken the opportunity to grievously wound—or kill—him. So if Lancelot wasn't here to kill Arthur, why had Morgana sent him? What was her game? Why had she raised Lancelot from the dead?

Merlin's heart clenched with grief, anguish…anger. It had been hard enough losing Lancelot the first time, to see him like this, to know Morgana had enslaved his soul…it was too much. Lancelot didn't deserve this, not after his sacrifice. Merlin had to find a way to stop them, not just for Arthur's sake, but for Lancelot's.

When night fell, Merlin left the citadel and made his way to the clearing, calling for the Great Dragon as he went. A thwack of wing beats preceded Kilgharrah's arrival.

"Merlin, you look distressed. What great calamity has befallen Camelot now?"

"Morgana raised Lancelot from the dead. He's a shade, walking the halls of the castle."

Kilgharrah blinked. "That is grim news indeed."

"How can I save him?"

"It takes very dark magic to perform necromancy. His soul is bound by the one who raised him."

"There must be something," Merlin insisted. "I can't leave Lancelot enslaved to Morgana, and I can't let them accomplish what she sent him here to do."

"You could slay him," Kilgharrah suggested.

Merlin flinched. The very idea of killing his friend, even if Lancelot was now a shade, tore at his heart. Would death even free him? Or condemn him to an eternity of torment?

Kilgharrah canted his head thoughtfully. "Unless you want to do battle for the noble knight's soul."

Merlin straightened. "How?"

"It will take great power, and the witch will sense you trying to break her hold. She will fight back, and you will risk revealing yourself."

"I don't care," Merlin said immediately. "Lancelot gave his life to save Arthur—to save me. I have to try to save him."

"Very well, I will give you the knowledge you need. But be careful, young warlock; the witch is not to be underestimated."

Kilgharrah lowered his head and breathed in Merlin's face, filling him with the incantation he'd need to instigate this fight. Then the dragon flapped his great wings and took off into the night.

Merlin hurried back to the castle. He didn't need to have Lancelot right in front of him to do this, but he felt some proximity might boost his connection. He just needed to find a quiet secluded place where no one would happen upon him, and his former friend was currently occupying his room.

Or not. Merlin pulled up short and ducked into a shadowed alcove as he spotted Lancelot walking down the corridor. Now what was he doing out and about at this hour? Merlin cautiously followed. Lancelot turned a corner and stopped at a balcony. Agravaine stepped out of the darkness to join him.

"Everything is prepared," Lancelot said in that deadened voice. "Gwen is on her way to our assignation as we speak."

"You've done well. Our lady Morgana will be very pleased with you."

They said nothing more and went their separate ways. Merlin ducked behind a column as Lancelot passed. So Gwen was the target. There was no time to try breaking Morgana's spell; Merlin had to stop Lancelot now.

He hastened after the shade, pulling up short and thrusting his hand out, uttering an incantation under his breath. His magic slammed into Lancelot's back, flinging him through the air several feet to go sliding across the floor. Merlin sprinted toward him, unsure what to do next. He had to restrain and hide Lancelot somewhere while he performed the spell to free him.

But before he could think of a plan, Lancelot's eyes snapped open. The knight surged to his feet and kicked out at Merlin, taking out his legs from underneath him. Merlin fell back on the stone floor with a jarring thud. He heard the screech of steel being drawn from a scabbard and tried to get up, but the pommel of a sword smashed into his face, and then there was nothing.

He wasn't sure how long he was out, but when he next woke, his head was killing him and Lancelot was gone.

His heart dropped into his stomach. No, Gwen…

Merlin staggered to his feet, pressing a hand to his pounding head. He had to find them. He bolted down the corridor, trying to guess where Lancelot was headed. He skidded to a stop when he came across Arthur and Agravaine at the council chambers. Both were staring at something. Merlin flicked his gaze to the right and his heart seized at the sight of Lancelot and Guinevere kissing passionately.

In the space of a breath, Arthur drew his sword and charged with an anguished cry. Merlin could only watch as Lancelot whipped out his blade and the two began to fight, a flurry of clashing steel and Arthur's vocalized rage. Lancelot's sword was knocked from his grasp and he ducked away from a killing blow from Arthur. He tackled the King, slamming him against a pillar. Arthur's sword went clattering to the ground. They switched to brawling for a few seconds before Lancelot retrieved his blade first. Merlin whispered a spell to wrench it from his hand. Arthur snatched up his sword and charged, ready to slay Lancelot where he stood.

Gwen leaped between them with a cry. "No! Please, please."

Arthur reeled back.

"You have to stop, please, please," she begged. "You have to stop this." She uttered it over and over, raggedly pleading with them to stop, one hand raised against Arthur, who could only stare at her in utter devastation.

By this time the guards came rushing in, looking upon the scene in confusion.

Arthur took a step back. "Take them to the dungeon," he ordered.

Merlin's eyes filled with tears as Gwen sobbed. Lancelot didn't react at all as they were led away. So that was Morgana's plan all along. And she'd succeeded. Merlin had been too late. He slumped back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut against a swell of grief. He'd failed.

No. No, there was still Lancelot's soul. He still deserved to be saved. And maybe there was still a chance to fix this.

Merlin pushed himself away from the wall and hurried to his room.

.o.0.o.

"Arthur is devastated," Agravaine reported. "I wish you could have seen the look on his face when he found the two of them like that."

Morgana wished she could have too, but she relished in the knowledge that she could just imagine it. She'd seen the way Arthur and Gwen looked at each other, knew the depths of their feelings. It only made destroying that so much sweeter.

"And our dear Lancelot?" she inquired.

"In the dungeon." Agravaine hesitated. "Arthur hasn't given any indication of what he plans to do with them."

"It matters not," Morgana replied. "The damage is done. Give this to our noble knight." She handed Agravaine a sealed letter detailing her last wishes for her dear Lancelot. He had fulfilled his purpose and she had no more use for him.

Agravaine tucked the missive inside his cloak and inclined his head.

Morgana turned away, only to pull up short with a gasp as something poked at her magic.

"My lady? What's wrong?"

Morgana held her breath, focusing on the strange sensation. Her eyes blew wide in dismay. "Someone is trying to break my claim over Lancelot."

"What? How is that possible?"

"Emrys," she hissed. She stumbled into her chair and closed her eyes. She would not let him succeed.

.o.0.o.

Merlin sat on the floor of his room, focusing all of his magic into this one spell. He felt his awareness slip from the physical realm into the astral, a strange and new sensation that left him momentarily disoriented. Once he acclimated though, it was easy to find the dark magic emanating from the dungeons below now that he had the words to see it. He wondered how he hadn't felt it before. The shroud was thick, a crackling morass of evil personified in Merlin's one-time friend. It was so suffocating that he had the brief moment of doubt that Lancelot's soul was even still there.

He pushed that aside and pressed on, wading through the brume. It was like slogging through a mire and Merlin felt his own chest growing tight from the compression. Then he saw it, a faint flicker of luminescence. He pushed forward until he finally found a small orb of light at the center of the darkness, pulsing weakly. Dark, inky vines were wrapped around it with thorns piercing the sphere. Merlin reached out to touch it.

The moment his hand brushed across its surface, he felt it screaming. The bound soul shuddered in response.

"Lancelot," Merlin breathed, his throat constricting.

Channeling his magic, he turned toward the vines and grabbed one to yank it off. It didn't budge and seemed to dig its thorns in deeper. Merlin drew his shoulders back and extended his hand, uttering words of power. The vine shrieked and went flying off. He turned to the next, only for a whomp of power to ripple through the air. He spun around and threw his arms up to shield against Morgana's attack. He could feel her pushing against his magic, probing. Merlin gritted his teeth and held his ground.

The vine he'd removed crawled back up and wrapped around Lancelot's soul again, squeezing so hard the entire light sputtered as though on the verge of winking out.

"No!" Merlin channeled every ounce of his might into pushing Morgana back.

More inky coils came shooting out of the darkness, toward him this time. Merlin twisted to avoid getting skewered by one and thrust his hand out to obliterate another. He uttered another spell, summoning forth a blazing nova like the sun. It flooded the darkness with light, driving back the shadows. He felt Morgana flinch from the unexpected move, her hold faltering just slightly.

Merlin took the moment to spin toward Lancelot and with one forceful word, incinerated the rest of the vines binding him. He heard a distant shriek, maybe Morgana, and then everything exploded.

Merlin came back to himself with a harsh gasp. He whipped his gaze around his room, finding himself alone and everything quiet. He bolted off the floor and ran for the dungeon, fear and hope waging a treacherous war in his heart. He barely remembered to slow down when he reached the cells lest he draw attention. The guards didn't stop him as he hurried past in search of Lancelot.

He found his cell by the sounds emanating from it—harsh chokes and gasps. Peering through the bars of the small window in the door, Merlin's heart leaped into his throat at the sight of Lancelot jerking on the floor as though in a seizure.

"Open the door!" he yelled at the guards.

They exchanged looks at that.

"He's dying! Open the door!"

The guards finally moved at that; they couldn't let a prisoner die on their watch. One of them came and unlocked the door and Merlin barged inside, rushing to Lancelot's side and dropping down beside him. The knight's eyes were blown wide, his entire body hitching with strained breaths.

"No, please," Merlin whispered. Please did he not just kill his best friend.

Lancelot's sightless eyes shifted just a fraction to focus on him. "Mer- lin," he coughed, so much wrapped up in that one word—recognition, pleading, terror.

"It's all right," Merlin urged, clasping the sides of Lancelot's head to steady it. "You're free. You're free."

Convulsions continued to wrack his body until Lancelot's eyes rolled back and he went limp.

Merlin didn't move, his hands firmly cupping his friend's head as faint puffs of breath brushed across the insides of his wrists. Lancelot was alive.

He was alive.

.o.0.o.

Merlin looked up as the guards returned, one of them having summoned Gaius.

"What happened?" Gaius asked as he entered the cell and knelt down beside Merlin and Lancelot.

"He's free," Merlin whispered. "I broke Morgana's hold on him."

Gaius's brows rose sharply and he looked down at the unconscious knight, reaching out a hand to feel for a pulse.

"He's alive, Gaius," Merlin went on, voice breaking with the sheer relief of it.

"For the moment," the court physician said gravely.

Merlin swallowed hard. "I have to tell Arthur."

"Tell him what? It won't change what's happened."

"It has to." Merlin pushed himself to his feet and reluctantly left his friend in Gaius's hands as he went in search of Arthur.

He checked the King's rooms, even the council chambers where everything had gone so wrong. He finally found him in the King's private dining room, staring out the window.

"Arthur," he said, out of breath. "Everything's that happened, it was Morgana's doing."

"Go away, Merlin," Arthur said tonelessly.

"She raised Lancelot from the dead, brought him back as a shade enslaved to her will so she could stop you from marrying Gwen. She won't stand the thought of a servant sitting on the throne."

Arthur let out an exasperated sound. "Merlin…"

"It's the truth!"

Arthur whirled toward him, eyes flashing. "Even if it is, it doesn't change what Gwen did."

"Unless she was under some sort of enchantment too," he blurted.

He had no proof of that, but he wouldn't put it past Morgana. Gwen loved Arthur; she would never betray him.

"It's the only thing that makes sense! You've been under love enchantments before!"

"Just stop!" Arthur shouted. "I won't hear any more of this."

Merlin surged a few steps closer. "Arthur, you have to listen. Lancelot has been freed from Morgana's control. He's alive and himself again."

"Oh really?" Arthur said skeptically. "And how would you know that?"

"Because- because I've seen him! There was something different about him before, something…off. But now there's not. Now he's the Lancelot we all loved and remember."

Arthur shook his head and turned away. "I don't know what you're playing at, Merlin—"

"Please just trust me!"

Arthur's eyes narrowed dangerously, a mixture of affront and something else, something pained. "Forgive me if I'm having trouble trusting anyone right now. Two of my dearest friends just betrayed me."

"It wasn't really them!" Merlin clenched his fists. Why couldn't Arthur see that?

"Where is your proof then?" Arthur challenged.

Merlin didn't know how to answer that.

Arthur scoffed. "Stop trying to make this better, Merlin, you can't." He rested an arm on the windowsill and hung his head. "Lancelot being back from the dead is cause for concern, though, I'll admit that. It was concerning from the beginning. I'd just hoped…" He shook his head. "If he is a shade—"

"Was," Merlin interrupted. "I told you, he's free now."

"How?" Arthur demanded. "Just like that? I may not be an expert in magic but I doubt it works that way."

"I did it," a new voice interjected.

Merlin whipped his head around, gaping in stupefaction at Gwaine standing in the doorway.

"You did what?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"I found a way to break the spell Morgana had on Lancelot."

Merlin's jaw went slack and he continued to stare dumbly as Gwaine came further into the room.

Arthur's brows shot upward. "You used magic?" he accused.

"I could tell something was different about Lancelot when he returned," Gwaine explained, echoing what they'd all felt. "When Merlin and I discovered he was a shade, I decided to do something about it."

Merlin had absolutely no idea what to say. Gwaine flicked a nonchalant glance his way but otherwise kept his attention on Arthur, who was bristling with indignation and betrayal.

"That something didn't involve telling me?" Arthur exclaimed, raising his voice. "A creature of magic was running loose in Camelot and neither of you saw fit to tell your King?"

"We all know how you feel about magic," Gwaine went on calmly. "I wanted to try saving Lancelot first."

"With magic?"

Merlin blinked, flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken. It was supposed to be him confessing to using magic to save Lancelot, not Gwaine.

Gwaine lifted his chin defiantly. "Lancelot gave his life for this kingdom, for you. We owe him everything for that, and if magic was what it took to save him from being enslaved to Morgana, then that's what I was going to do."

Arthur shook his head in aggravation. "I need to think." He stormed out of the room.

Merlin stayed where he was, uncertain what to do next.

Gwaine turned toward him. "Was what I just said true?" he asked. "Was Lancelot really a shade brought back by Morgana?"

Merlin nodded mutely.

"And he's free now?"

"Yes," Merlin said softly. "He has his soul back. He's back."

Gwaine nodded. "I'm not gonna ask how that happened."

"Why did you do that?" Merlin asked urgently. "Why did you put your head on the chopping block by confessing to something you didn't do?"

Gwaine regarded him for a moment. "Because you're my friend, Merlin. And so is Lancelot. I don't know what's going on, but I will stand by the two of you."

"What about Arthur?"

"My loyalty is to those who deserve it. Always has been."

Merlin gave a jerky nod of gratitude. He didn't know what Gwaine suspected concerning him, didn't want to ask and increase that suspicion. Whatever the knight thought, though, it seemed he was going to back Merlin up in this. Which was good, because he didn't have many allies at the moment.

"So what happens now?" Gwaine asked.

"I don't know," Merlin replied, gaze shifting to the door Arthur had marched out through.

He didn't know if he'd just saved Lancelot's soul only for Arthur to have him executed anyway.

Chapter Text

Arthur stalked the darkened halls of the castle, his thoughts in turmoil. Betrayal stung at his heart like a three-pronged spear. The love of his life on the eve before their wedding had proven unfaithful—with one of his most trusted knights.

A knight supposedly working as a double agent for Morgana.

There was no denying Lancelot had seemed…different since his return. Easily explained by the ordeal he'd gone through. But he was supposed to have died. That was the only way to heal the rift.

So if he was this thing called a shade, did that make his betrayal hurt less? But what about Guinevere? Was Arthur truly to believe she had been enchanted too? He wanted to; he wanted to believe she would never do this to him.

But the sting remained, for every time he closed his eyes he saw the two of them together.

He turned and headed for the dungeon. He found two sets of guards hovering nervously outside Lancelot's cell. They ducked their gazes as Arthur approached.

Gaius was inside, talking quietly to Lancelot who was huddled against the wall, shivering. The stench of sick was rank, and Arthur quickly avoided stepping in the puddle to his right. Gaius looked up at Arthur's arrival, his expression betraying nothing.

"Leave us," Arthur said.

Gaius pushed himself up with creaky knees. "He's very ill," he said softly on his way out.

Arthur tried to keep his heart hardened against any inclinations toward pity. It wasn't difficult. He turned his stern attention to the man on the dirty cell floor.

Lancelot blinked up at him blearily, then shifted as though to rise. He couldn't get his feet to support him though and ended up toppling to the side, barely catching himself on his arms. Arthur grimaced but didn't make a move to help him.

Lancelot pushed himself up until he was on his knees in a penitent position, head hanging heavily between his shoulders. "My liege," he said hoarsely. He was pale and shaky, a starkly different figure than the one Arthur had found with Gwen a mere couple of hours before. Perhaps there was some truth in Merlin's claims…

"I'm told Morgana brought you back from the dead, put an enchantment on you."

Lancelot shuddered. "Yes."

"And that you're somehow free of it now."

Lancelot finally looked up, eyes haunted where they'd been…deadened before. "I remember walking through the veil. I remember- I remember the look in Merlin's eyes when he realized what I was doing. The next thing I knew, I was walking out of a lake, drawn by a call I couldn't resist. I felt…nothing. Nothing but all-consuming devotion to the lady who summoned me. Morgana. She took me to her dwelling, delved into my mind…" He broke off with another full-body shudder, folding in on himself.

Arthur waited.

Lancelot slowly lifted himself again. "It was like a dream. I could see and hear everything I did, but I had no control, like I was just an observer in my own body. I did Morgana's will without question, without emotion." He snapped his gaze up suddenly, eyes flashing with anguish. "I am sorry, Arthur. I will not ask for your forgiveness, but please do not blame Gwen," he pleaded.

"She responded to you," Arthur said stiffly, somehow managing to keep his voice steady when he wanted to rage and scream.

"No, she didn't," Lancelot said desperately. "She loves you; she would never betray you. Morgana had me give her an enchanted bracelet to twist her actions. Please, Arthur, do what you will with me, but Gwen is not at fault."

Arthur honestly didn't know what to think. Would it be easier if his two dearest friends hadn't betrayed him of their own accord? Maybe. But how did he know what to believe anymore?

So he simply turned and walked out, gesturing for the guards to close the cell door behind him. He went to Gwen's cell next, drawing up short when he heard her sobs echoing from within. It was almost enough to make him turn around, but he needed the truth. He stepped in front of the iron bars.

Gwen immediately looked up from where she sat on the floor and hastened to her feet, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands. Arthur didn't say anything for a long moment, and neither did she.

"What happened Guinevere?" he finally said, voice pitched low in an effort to keep his emotions in check.

She opened her mouth as though to answer but then faltered and shook her head.

"We were happy. I know we were happy."

She nodded, face pinching with distress.

Arthur swallowed hard. "You love him? You've always loved him?"

"No," she breathed. "Once there was Lancelot, a long time ago. But I haven't considered him in that way for many years. I thought he was dead. I thought I would never see him again, and…and then…when I did, I was…overwhelmed. I was drawn to him. I couldn't stop myself, I don't know why." She pressed her hands to her mouth as though in prayer. "I love you. You mean everything to me." Her voice broke as she struggled to get the words out.

Arthur looked away for a moment. When he turned back, his composure was unbroken. "Lancelot said he gave you a bracelet."

Gwen frowned. "I…"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, a cold feeling settling in his heart. "I don't see you wearing one. Did he lie?"

Gwen's eyes welled with tears and she shook her head, then went to the corner of the cell and picked up a thin bracelet that had been discarded there.

Arthur's heart stuttered. Could it all be true?

"You feel no love for him now?" he asked, his own voice finally betraying him.

Gwen shook her head fervently. "Not in that way. Arthur, I am so, so sorry."

He nodded, still trying to process this. He took out his set of keys and unlocked her cell. Gwen let out another choked sob and stumbled toward him as though to embrace. Arthur stepped away from her. She pulled up short, expression crumbling.

"I need you to go home, Guinevere," he said. "I need to deal with things and…and I can't look at you right now."

Her eyes crinkled with devastation. "Arthur…"

He shook his head. "Not right now, all right, Gwen? Go home and stay there until I call for you."

She bit her lip, then ducked her head and nodded.

There was a moment of awkwardness as Arthur realized he would have to escort out of the dungeon.

"Come on. I'll have Elyan take you home."

She nodded again, a whimper stifling in her throat. Just this morning Arthur would have been reaching out to comfort her. Now, even though he knew the truth behind her actions, he wasn't sure he could bear to touch her.

He wordlessly reached out and took the bracelet from her, then led her up and out of the dungeon to pass her off to her brother.

.o.0.o.

Lancelot sat on the floor of his cell, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was freezing, and it had nothing to do with the dank stone and brisk night air coming through the window above his head. It was like a glacial poison festering deep in his marrow. He could feel the echoes of Morgana's magic, a kiss of death brushing across his soul. It made his stomach churn and he had to swallow back the urge to retch again.

He knew he was alive—his blood pumped painfully through his body, his heart fluttered as it struggled with its newfound life, and a cold sweat dampened his skin and drew gooseflesh across his exposed flesh. He was alive, but he still felt like a walking dead.

He pressed his face against the stone wall and shuddered at the memories flooding his mind, of what he'd done to Gwen and Arthur. He had sworn not to stand between them. It was a vow that had pained him but he would never do anything to jeopardize it.

And now he had. Not by choice, but it was at his hands nonetheless. Because Morgana had ripped his soul from death and molded it to her will. She had forced him to betray everything that he was.

The door to his cell creaked open and Agravaine slipped inside, closing it behind him. A shaft of moonlight lanced off the dagger in his hand. Lancelot just gazed at him listlessly, knowing what was coming.

And he didn't think there was any point in fighting.

.o.0.o.

Having transferred Gwen to the care of her brother, Arthur returned to the dungeon to deal with the other member of this sordid party. It was late, and he could have simply left Lancelot there until morning, but the knight had not looked well at all and Arthur was not so cruel as to punish him since it seemed he truly didn't deserve it.

He waved for the guards to follow him down the passage toward Lancelot's cell. One of them moved ahead to unlock the door, and Arthur pushed it open. He froze at the sight of Lancelot slumped against the wall, eyes closed, and his uncle leaning over him with a dagger raised above his head, poised to plunge into the knight's heart.

Agravaine jolted in surprise. "Sire!"

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, storming into the cell and letting the guards fan out behind him.

Lancelot's eyelids fluttered weakly as he opened them, proving he yet lived.

Agravaine faltered and then scrambled to his feet. "Your Majesty, I was only looking out for you. This vermin deserves to die. As does Guinevere. In the days of your father, adultery among the nobility was punishable by death."

"That is my decision," Arthur snapped.

Agravaine ducked his head. "Of course, Sire. I meant no offense. I just know how…distressing this has been for you. I had hoped to spare you more grief."

"He's working with Morgana," Lancelot spoke up, voice frail.

"That's a lie," Agravaine immediately denied. "You can't believe a word of this vile traitor."

Lancelot closed his eyes, expression pinching with anguish at the accusation.

Arthur could only stand there, unsure what to do. Would the string of betrayals this night never end? He didn't want to believe his uncle was in league with Morgana…and yet how much of Lancelot's tale had already lent itself to the truth? What reason would he have to lie now? And why else would Agravaine be in here secretly trying to murder the only witness to his treachery?

Arthur gestured helplessly at his guards. "Arrest him."

"Arthur—"

"Take him to his chambers. He is to remain there until I can sort this all out."

Two of the guards moved forward to restrain Agravaine, divesting him of the dagger.

"Arthur, this is madness," he protested.

It was, and Arthur was in the middle of it. He didn't say anything as Agravaine was hauled away. Once his uncle was gone, he turned his attention back to Lancelot, still slumped on the floor.

Lancelot lolled his head back, defeated eyes gazing up at Arthur. "Please, make my death quick," he said in that paper-thin voice. "And- and burn my body. Scatter my ashes to the four winds. Maybe- maybe that will prevent Morgana from raising me again. Please, Arthur," he begged.

Arthur finally felt the stirrings of pity for this man who had once been his friend. Who still was.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said gently, then nodded to the two remaining guards. "Get him up."

The men moved in and each gripped Lancelot under the arms, heaving him to his feet with no help from the knight at all. Lancelot was still pale and shivering and looked more like a walking corpse than when he'd actually been one.

Arthur mentally cringed at the image and shook it off. "Come on."

He started to lead the way out of the cell, but Lancelot had only taken a few steps before he collapsed and ended up hanging limply between the guards. Concern zinged through Arthur. "Take him to Gaius's chambers," he instructed.

The men adjusted their hold and they began the trek up from the dungeons to the court physician's dwelling. Arthur accompanied them.

Gaius looked up in alarm from his table as they barged into his chambers. Merlin was right behind him, eyes wide and worried as he took in Lancelot's limp form.

"What happened?" Gaius asked urgently.

Arthur opened his mouth to answer only to realize he didn't really know. "He's ill," he said lamely, as Gaius had already told him.

"Lay him here." The physician directed the guards to the cot. "Merlin, blankets, quickly."

Once the guards deposited their load, Arthur dismissed them. Merlin came hurrying out of his back room with the blankets from his bed, and he and Gaius quickly tucked them around Lancelot. Merlin placed his hand on the knight's forehead and reeled back.

"He's so cold, Gaius," he said, voice taut with emotion.

"Yes, start heating some water for tea. And put some bricks by the fire to heat as well."

Merlin dashed off to do those things.

Arthur hung back, watching as Gaius felt Lancelot's temperature and sighed.

"I assume Merlin told you of his suspicions that Lancelot was a shade," he spoke up.

Gaius glanced over, mien serious. "Yes. I regret to say it was true."

Arthur bristled. Yet another person who'd known the danger and hadn't seen fit to tell him. "And now?"

Gaius looked back at Lancelot with a sad sigh. "As a shade, he would have felt nothing, but his soul would have been buried deep down, and would have been tormented by the dark magic that enslaved him. It's little wonder coming back to himself would take a heavy toll."

"Can you be sure?" Arthur persisted.

"I spoke with him briefly in the dungeon. He was ill and in shock, but more of the Lancelot we knew than the one that has been around the castle these past few days." Gaius paused for a moment thoughtfully. "What conclusion did you come to when you spoke to him?"

Arthur clenched his jaw. Yes, he'd noticed the difference too, but he still didn't know what to make of it all.

"How did I fail to see it?" he blurted. "I had…doubts…when Lancelot first returned. Am I really such a fool?"

"We all wished to have him returned to us," Gaius said sympathetically. "We all overlooked the changes we saw in him."

"Not all of us," Arthur pointed out with a touch of bitterness. "Gwaine claims he broke Morgana's hold over Lancelot."

Gaius arched a single brow. "Did he?"

"Which has to mean magic," Arthur went on, pivoting on his heel with the urge to pace.

"Well," Gaius replied, "Lancelot is very fortunate that Gwaine succeeded. To be enslaved as he was…it is a torment worse than death."

Arthur flicked a look back at the knight, who continued to shiver as Merlin hurried over to place the heated bricks under the blankets. "Is he dying?" he asked quietly.

Gaius's mouth turned down. "He's been through a severe trauma, not just physically, but mentally as well. It will take some time, but he could recover."

Arthur nodded. He didn't want Lancelot to die. Not again. Gwaine was right; Lancelot didn't deserve to suffer after everything he'd sacrificed.

Merlin cleared his throat. "What about Gwen?"

Arthur felt a pang in his heart at the mention of her name, the wound still too fresh and raw. "Lancelot said Morgana gave him a bracelet to give to her." He held it out as evidence.

Gaius stood and came over to take it.

"Then she was also enchanted!" Merlin exclaimed.

"Is it enchanted?" Arthur asked Gaius.

Gaius turned it over in his hands as he examined it. "It looks like it. We have certainly seen enchanted objects like this before."

Arthur shook his head, anger bubbling up again from that wellspring of hurt and betrayal that had opened back when Morgana had first turned on them.

"How am I supposed to forget what happened?" he demanded. "Even if it was all magic, I saw them together. I can't unsee it."

Gaius nodded sadly. "I imagine it's the same for them."

Arthur fell quiet for a moment, remembering the devastation he'd seen in Lancelot's and Guinevere's eyes when he'd spoken to them in the dungeons. It only kindled his anger more, because he didn't want to admit he wasn't the wronged party here.

The problem was they had all been wronged. By Morgana. By his uncle.

"Lancelot also claimed that Agravaine is working with Morgana," Arthur admitted, every piece of this wretched affair like a nail in his coffin.

Gaius didn't even look surprised. "We've known for some time there was a spy in Camelot," he said carefully.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know who to trust anymore."

"Trust yourself," Gaius said sagely.

"Evidence hasn't proven me trustworthy either," he replied defeatedly and turned toward the door. "Keep me informed of Lancelot's condition."

Chapter Text

Merlin knelt on the floor next to the cot and watched every minute tremor that made Lancelot twitch in his restless sleep. He swallowed hard. "Is this going to kill him?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Gaius answered honestly.

Merlin's throat constricted and he looked away.

"You did what you could, Merlin. And you did free him from Morgana. If he does succumb to this, at least his soul will be at peace."

Merlin shook his head. He couldn't go through this again, couldn't lose Lancelot to the evil side of magic when he was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer that ever lived. Desperate, Merlin reached out and laid a hand across Lancelot's brow and uttered a spell, something to banish the chill, to calm the tumultuous spirit still writhing in agony under the surface. He felt Lancelot settle, felt his magic soothe over raw edges.

Gaius merely watched, the silent, sage sentinel.

Merlin drew back, his heart heavy.

And then Lancelot opened his eyes.

Merlin straightened. "Lancelot."

Tired eyes slid toward him. "Merlin."

He let out a watery laugh at the familiar warmth in his friend's voice. Gods how he'd missed it.

Lancelot's eyes glistened and his arm shifted weakly under the blankets. Merlin folded them over to take his grasping hand, which Lancelot squeezed as fervently as he could, though his grip was weak by comparison.

"Thank you," he breathed.

Merlin squeezed back. "Everything's going to be okay now."

Lancelot's expression turned pained. "No, it's not."

"I've made up some tea," Gaius interrupted. "I'd like you to drink."

Lancelot lolled his head toward Gaius as the physician picked up a steaming cup from the nearby table. Merlin slipped a hand behind Lancelot's head and helped elevate him enough to take a few sips.

"I don't imagine you've had much to eat in the past few days either," Gaius added.

Lancelot gave a small head shake. "I didn't feel hunger."

Gaius nodded as though he'd expected that. "We'll start with broth, work your way back up to solid food gradually."

Lancelot didn't say anything. There was a desolation in his eyes that tore at Merlin's heart. He'd rescued his friend's soul, but Merlin had the feeling that the battle to save him still lay ahead.

If only Merlin knew how to help.

Exhaustion quickly pulled Lancelot into sleep once more, though it was slightly more restful than it had been previously.

"You should get some rest too," Gaius said. "Arthur will need you tomorrow."

Merlin nodded mutely. So much had happened this night. He wondered whether the break of dawn would bring healing or more trouble.

.o.0.o.

Arthur didn't get any sleep the rest of the night. By morning he was numb, a mantle of defeat having settled over him. He wished his father were here, someone who could take the burden of decision from him, who could make the tough calls. And yet Arthur knew what Uther would do in this situation—he would have Guinevere and Lancelot executed, or at the very least banished. Agravaine he might continue to blindly trust, dismissing any accusations against him because he was family.

Which was how Morgana had seized the throne and nearly destroyed Camelot.

Arthur did not want to end up like his father, a broken man betrayed by those he loved because he was blind.

Arthur had been betrayed by those he loved, but he did not want to act in kind by betraying them in turn. He knew what kind of king he wanted to be.

It was his wounded heart that didn't know how to fulfill it.

Merlin didn't show to bring him breakfast and help him dress. He probably had his hands full helping Gaius care for Lancelot. Arthur didn't begrudge him that. He wasn't hungry anyway.

He turned from his window and changed into a clean shirt, then grimly headed out to face what came next. He imagined word of what had transpired had spread rapidly through the castle. He tried to hold his head high and not look at anyone as he made his way to the council chamber—tried not to remember what he'd witnessed there last night.

"Arthur!"

He paused as Merlin jogged toward him.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he gushed. "I overslept."

At least one of them had gotten some rest, though the dark circles under Merlin's eyes suggested it hadn't been much.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Lancelot?"

"Still weak. But he'll recover," Merlin said staunchly.

"Is that Gaius's prognosis?"

Merlin faltered. "I have to believe he will."

Arthur nodded in understanding. Merlin and Lancelot had always had a special bond between them. Lancelot's death had hit Merlin especially hard and Arthur had no wish for him to go through that again.

"Summon the Knights of the Round Table to the council chamber."

Merlin nodded and darted off.

Arthur finished making his way to the closed doors, sealed against last night's treachery. Taking a deep breath, he pushed them open.

Everything looked different in the light of morning, but the shadows still lingered, the whispers of heartache and anguish. Arthur tried to bury his feelings and focus on the facts.

Merlin was quick to return with Arthur's most trusted knights—Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival. Elyan, of course, already knew what had happened with his sister, and perhaps he had told the others, though they all bore themselves stoically without giving anything away.

Arthur drew his shoulders back and proceeded to recount what he knew, all of it. His voice threatened to break when he came to the part of finding Lancelot and Guinevere here, in these very chambers, but he pushed through to the end.

"Lancelot is a shade," Sir Leon repeated, expression slack with horror.

"Was," Arthur corrected. He glanced at Gwaine. "Apparently someone was able to break Morgana's hold on him."

Gwaine's expression remained schooled.

"And now?" Percival asked hesitantly. "Is he dead?"

"No, he's alive, and truly himself again, I'm told."

"Can we be sure?" Leon pressed. "I mean…he was raised from the dead…by Morgana no less."

"I don't know how to be sure of anything where magic is involved," Arthur replied curtly. He paused to take a breath and softened his tone. "But I believe Lancelot has been restored to us. Yet that's not our immediate concern. Right now I need you to find proof my uncle has been working with Morgana."

The knights nodded and bowed, taking the order as a dismissal.

"Gwaine," Arthur called as they were leaving.

Gwaine pulled up short and turned to face him, expression borderline irreverent as ever.

"You didn't use magic yourself to save Lancelot; someone had to help you. I need to know who it was."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I'll be taking full responsibility for it."

"I'm not going to execute them," Arthur said impatiently.

"You're right, because I'm not telling you who it was."

"Do you think so little of me?" he snapped. "Do my people think so little of me? That I'm a fool everyone can pull the wool over!"

Gwaine regarded him coolly. Arthur's face flushed hotly as he realized he'd let his emotions over Gwen slip past his austere walls. Merlin was standing in the corner, looking uncomfortable.

"You have proven yourself a good man and a good king, Arthur," Gwaine said. "But there's your father's law."

"Which you've sworn to uphold."

"I've sworn to uphold justice," Gwaine countered. "Can we agree to let this be and focus on the real villains?" he asked, tone finally losing some of its composure.

Arthur bristled. "I am ordering you to tell me, Gwaine, as your king. We need to know what was done to Lancelot and what happens now because of it!"

Gwaine didn't say anything for a long moment, then, "How is Lancelot? I heard you had him moved to Gaius's chambers."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "He's ill, effects of the dark magic, it seems. So if he's your friend as you claim, then you can understand the importance of this."

Gwaine nodded thoughtfully and glanced at Merlin, then back at Arthur. "Unfortunately, the person who helped me is long gone. I paid them so they could flee Camelot before they were found out."

Arthur's shoulders sagged and he let out a harsh breath. Curse his father's iron-handed rule that had fostered nothing but distrust and hatred among the people concerning magic.

"What are you going to do with Lancelot?" Gwaine asked after another moment.

"Not kill him if that's what you're thinking," Arthur replied bitterly.

Gwaine simply nodded. "Good. It'd be a shame to just get him back only to lose him again."

Arthur had no more to say to the man and dismissed him. He'd almost forgotten Merlin was there until his servant spoke up.

"You're doing the right thing."

"What thing would that be?" he asked tiredly.

"Looking into Agravaine, not dismissing your suspicions but looking for proof first." Merlin hesitated. "I did see Agravaine and Lancelot last night. They met briefly before the setup with Gwen."

Arthur whirled on him. "And you didn't tell me? Again."

"I'm just a servant," Merlin rejoined. "And you didn't believe me about Lancelot at first either," he added sullenly.

Arthur sighed. No, he hadn't. And the only reason he'd started to give credence to the notion that Lancelot and Guinevere had been enchanted was because Gwaine had stepped in and confirmed part of Merlin's story.

How many times had Merlin been right and Arthur hadn't listened? Why did he keep not listening?

"Anything else you failed to mention?" he asked.

"No." Merlin was quiet for a moment. "What about Gwen?"

Arthur didn't respond. He had no answer for that one.

.o.0.o.

His knights returned a few hours later, looking grim.

"We found this in Agravaine's chambers, Sire," Sir Leon said, stepping forward and holding out a letter with its seal broken.

Arthur took it and read the contents. He recognized Morgana's penmanship, plus she had signed it. It was also addressed to Lancelot, and praised him for his service to her while commanding one last deed from him—kill himself.

Morgana cleaning up loose ends. Arthur was sickened by the thought that Lancelot had been so enthralled that he would have done such a deed without question. And Arthur would have spent the rest of his life despising his old friend for being a traitor.

Sir Leon cleared his throat nervously. "Since Morgana's hold over Lancelot had been broken, that might have been why Agravaine tried to kill him instead."

Arthur nodded and set the letter aside. "Gather the court and bring Agravaine for judgment."

His knights departed again, and Arthur went to wait in the throne room. It wasn't long before the members of the court began to file in. Arthur tried to ignore the whispers; he didn't want to hear what the people were saying about him. It didn't change anything.

The knights returned, followed by a pair of guards escorting Agravaine. They brought him to stand before the throne that Arthur stood in front of. Arthur regarded his uncle for a long moment, his heart aching for the lies and betrayal between them.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

"Sire, I have been falsely accused!"

Arthur pulled Morgana's letter out from behind his back. "You were going to deliver this to Lancelot?"

"That was planted!"

"By whom?"

Agravaine scoffed. "How should I know?"

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "You came and woke me last night, told me there was something I needed to see."

"Because there was."

"You were seen conspiring to set the stage," Arthur said calmly. He shook his head, aggrieved. "Why, Uncle?"

Agravaine's face hardened as he seemed to realize he wouldn't be talking his way out of this. "Uther is the reason my sister died," he spat. "Desire for revenge is something the Lady Morgana and I have in common."

"And me?" Arthur said, his own old guilt creeping upon him. "You blame me as well?"

"Uther used magic so he could have you." Agravaine sneered. "And it cost Ygraine her life."

Arthur focused on steady breaths to maintain his composure. "I hereby banish you from the kingdom of Camelot," he proclaimed. "Under pain of death."

"Morgana will have the throne!" Agravaine raged as the guards seized him again and dragged him from the chamber. "She will bring this kingdom to its knees!"

Arthur briefly closed his eyes. How had his family gone so horribly wrong?

The court began to disperse, taking their hushed murmurs with them. The Knights of the Round Table converged on Merlin and Gaius, who'd been standing off to the side during the gathering. Arthur heard his men ask how Lancelot was.

"It will take some time for him to regain his strength," Gaius answered. "He went through a terrible ordeal."

"Can we see him?" Percival asked.

"I don't see why not, though not all at once. As I said, he's very weak."

Several sets of eyes flicked Arthur's direction.

"You should go," he said. "I'm sure Lancelot could use the support of his friends right now."

The knights exchanged a few more looks with each other before slowly making their way out with Gaius.

Merlin hung back. "What about you? I think you could use the support of your friends too."

Arthur shook his head fondly. His blood family had repeatedly betrayed him; his chosen brothers had not.

"Go on, Merlin. There's someone I need to see."

Merlin nodded in understanding and left.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur made his way out of the castle and into the lower town. His heart was heavy as he reached Gwen's door, and he hesitated before finally working up the resolve to knock. He wasn't prepared for the sight of her when she opened up, wasn't prepared for the gut-punch that accompanied it.

She was wearing the same disheveled dress from last night, her curls a frizzy mess, her cheeks smudged from crying.

"Arthur," she breathed, hope evident in her voice. She opened the door wide and beckoned him in.

He stepped inside, posture stiff. Part of him didn't want to have this conversation, but Gwen deserved to hear it from him, not anyone else.

"I'm so glad you came," she started.

Arthur held up a hand to stop her. "I've received some information that you deserve to know."

Her brow furrowed. "What kind of information?"

"For starters, Lancelot was a shade, resurrected from the dead by Morgana."

Gwen's brows knitted together further. "What? No…that can't be."

"You didn't notice anything different about him since his return?" Arthur couldn't help but challenge. The rest of them had had doubts; had Gwen?

Her mouth moved soundlessly as she struggled to answer. "I- I don't know. It's been months since…" She paled and swallowed hard. "What's been done with him?"

"Still concerned only for him?"

Arthur mentally cursed himself for pushing like this. What was wrong with him? Did he want to prove the notion that Gwen had been enchanted untrue? That she had, in fact, betrayed him?

"No, Arthur! I just- I don't understand. He seemed…different, yes, but not- not evil."

No, he hadn't seemed evil.

"There's more," he said, throat tightening. "That bracelet he gave you. It was enchanted by Morgana."

He watched as Gwen struggled to process that, as horror dawned on her face.

"Morgana?" she repeated. She staggered back against the table behind her, gripping the edges to hold herself up. "Why?"

"To come between us. To make sure you would never be Queen. My uncle was working with her too."

Gwen reached a hand up to cover her mouth. "So what I did…it was because of magic?"

Arthur wanted to say yes, but he couldn't get the word out. How did he know for certain? Did Morgana's enchantment force Gwen to fall into Lancelot's arms? Or had it merely awakened real feelings that were already there?

She moved toward him. "Arthur, I am so, so sorry."

He stepped back, once more unable to bear her being so close. Her expression crumpled.

"I love you, Gwen," he said, and it was true. "And I know in my head that what happened was not your doing, but in my heart it still hurts." He blinked away moisture forming in his eyes.

Her own grew watery as she gazed back at him. "I know," she whispered brokenly.

He swallowed around the spiky lump gathering in his throat. "I need time. I need you to stay away from the castle for a while. I'll make sure you're provided for," he added quickly. "I just…I need time," he repeated.

Gwen nodded tearfully. "I understand."

Arthur nodded also. There was nothing left to say, so he turned and walked away from the love of his life.

Chapter Text

Merlin made a stop at the kitchens to procure some bread and fruit he could leave in Arthur's chambers since he had a feeling the King hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. He'd have to check later to make sure Arthur ate it. When he returned to Gaius's chambers, he found Gwaine leaning against the wall outside, arms folded across his chest.

"Are the others inside?" Merlin asked.

Gwaine straightened. "They left. Lancelot was barely awake so we didn't stay long." His expression was troubled. "Merlin, are Arthur's fears about Lancelot founded?"

Merlin tensed. "What do you mean?"

"Pardon the expression, but he looks like death warmed over. Not even that. He looks worse than he did when he was supposedly dead."

Merlin winced. "I know."

Gwaine moved closer and lowered his voice. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"It's not like I've ever helped someone come back from death and resurrection before," he muttered. He shook his head at his own helplessness. "Lancelot is not a shade anymore, if that's what you're worried about, if that's what everyone is worried about."

Gwaine rolled his eyes and clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I'm concerned about him. And you. Don't get in over your head, Merlin."

Merlin flashed him a smile. "When do I ever do that?"

Gwaine just shot him a wry smirk. "What I mean is remember you have friends who will help."

Merlin's expression softened with gratitude. "I will."

Gwaine nodded and finally stepped back. With one last friendly pat on the shoulder, he left.

Merlin slipped into Gaius's chambers. "How is he?" he asked softly, gaze sweeping over Lancelot asleep on the cot.

"About as to be expected," Gaius replied. "He was awake long enough to know his friends had come to see him."

"Good," Merlin said. Lancelot needed to know the other knights didn't view him with suspicion or hate.

Speaking of someone who could also use a friend in this mess, Merlin wanted to check on Gwen. He left Gaius's once again and went out into the lower town to Gwen's house, pausing to peek through the window in case Arthur was still there—assuming that was where he'd gone.

Gwen was sitting at the table, alone.

Merlin went and knocked on the door. "Gwen, it's me," he called.

"Come in."

He opened the door and slipped inside. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Did Arthur…?"

She nodded. "He told me about Lancelot, about Morgana." She dropped her gaze to her lap. "I feel like such a fool."

Merlin hurried over to sit next to her. "You're not a fool. You were a victim of Morgana's enchantment."

Gwen shook her head. "I knew what I was doing," she whispered. "I felt drawn to him, even if I didn't understand why at the time. Looking back, I still don't understand how I could have done it, how I could have been unfaithful to Arthur. I love him. And yet…" She shook her head again.

Merlin sat there awkwardly. "Do you still feel that draw now?" he asked hesitantly.

"No! Not in that way. It's just that Lancelot died because of the promise he made to me and I still care about him."

Merlin wanted to correct her, to say Lancelot hadn't died because of her promise, that he'd sacrificed himself so Merlin wouldn't have to. But the truth was it didn't matter who Lancelot had been protecting that fateful day, because he would have sacrificed himself for any of them. That was just the kind of noble knight he was.

"I don't know if Arthur will ever forgive me," she went on.

"Give him time," Merlin said. "He's just hurting right now."

Gwen nodded.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

She shook her head and reached out to take his hand. "No. Just, thank you for being a good friend." She hesitated. "I- I didn't want to ask Arthur. Lancelot was a…shade?" She broke off for a moment. "Is he dead?"

"No, he's alive, and freed from Morgana's control. It's left him very sick though."

Gwen let out a shaky breath of relief. "Does Arthur blame him?" she asked carefully.

"I don't think so," Merlin assured her. "He knows Lancelot is as much a victim as you two were. He just…needs some time to come to terms with it all."

Gwen nodded slowly and then offered him a wan smile. "Thank you, Merlin."

He stood up. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"Arthur's promised to provide for me while we're…apart."

Merlin's heart ached for them both. He bid goodbye to Gwen and returned to the castle, heading to Arthur's rooms to see if he'd eaten and to tidy up some in case Arthur had a short fuse for his anger because of all of this.

Merlin didn't find him in a state of angry pacing; instead, Arthur sat at his desk, staring pensively at nothing. The food Merlin had left was untouched.

"You should eat something," he said.

Arthur barely even looked at him. "I will," he said tonelessly.

"Want me to clean your armor?" Merlin asked.

"No. Just…" Arthur glanced over at him. "I just want to be alone right now, Merlin. Why don't you help Gaius look after Lancelot."

Merlin hesitated, torn between his two friends. "Are you sure?" he asked. A lighthearted jab was on the tip of his tongue, but it turned to ash before it could pass his lips. There was no humor to be found among the wreckage of shattered hearts.

"I'm sure," Arthur said kindly.

"Alright." Merlin started a slow retreat toward the door. "I will come back for your plate later," he warned. "Your empty plate."

Arthur waved him off, but not before a glimpse of fondness melted his downcast expression. Then it was gone, and Arthur turned back to his lonely musings. Merlin left.

He passed the great hall on his way home and drew to a stop at the sight of servants cleaning up the flower arrangements and garlands. Merlin clenched his fists, anger churning inside him over everything Morgana had done. He thought back to all the opportunities he'd had to kill her and rued his soft heart, his sense of morality, for because of him, the hearts of his dearest friends were all broken.

He returned home sullen and in despair. Gaius gave him a considering look as he sat heavily at the table, and then came over with a bowl of stew to set in front of him.

"It's not fair, Gaius," he muttered. "All my magic and I couldn't stop Morgana from ruining everything. Gwen should have been walking down the aisle today."

Gaius said nothing, just sat in companionable silence.

It was broken by a small grunt from the cot.

"Gwen," Lancelot breathed, struggling to sit up. His eyes were wide with horror. "The wedding…"

Merlin and Gaius quickly stood and hurried over to prevent Lancelot from overexerting himself. Lancelot grasped urgently at their sleeves.

"Arthur and Gwen were getting married," he gasped like he'd just remembered, or overheard the conversation.

"You don't need to concern yourself with that now," Gaius urged, trying to ease him back down.

Lancelot closed his eyes as he fell back against the pillow. "I've destroyed everything," he murmured.

"Morgana did that," Merlin said emphatically.

He opened his eyes again. "I need to see Gwen. I need to apologize…"

Merlin grimaced. "I don't think that's a good idea right now."

Lancelot's expression fell. "Of course," he said dejectedly. "Will- will you tell her how sorry I am?"

Merlin nodded. "I will. But Gaius is right, you don't need to worry about that right now. All you have to do is focus on getting better. Can you take some more broth?"

Lancelot didn't respond for a long moment, looking lost in his emotional turmoil, but he finally gave a small nod. Merlin helped him sit up, taking a seat on the edge of the cot so Lancelot could lean against his shoulder while Gaius went to dish up some of the broth he'd made earlier. Lancelot's hands shook as he tried to hold the bowl, and Merlin wordlessly braced it from underneath to keep it from spilling.

Lancelot didn't speak for the rest of the evening, nor did he speak much over the next few days, but he kept down the broth and Gaius gradually started adding small portions of solid food to his diet. He was awake for longer periods but tired easily if he tried to do much more than rest. Not that he tried.

The Lancelot from before would have been eager to get out of bed and regain his strength, but this Lancelot was listless and distant, often just curled up under the blankets and staring at nothing. He was still chilled, too. Merlin had scrounged up a sweater for him but it didn't alleviate the shivers much.

At one point they decided to move him to Merlin's room; Gaius's chambers were frequented often throughout the day and Lancelot didn't need the intrusions upon his rest. He tried to resist, a flicker of his former spark showing through. Merlin insisted as he braced Lancelot's shoulder and helped him hobble up the short steps to the room. The bed was piled high with all the unused blankets Merlin had managed to raid from closets throughout the castle.

"I don't deserve yours and Gaius's kindness," Lancelot murmured.

Merlin frowned. "Yes, you do," he said earnestly. "You're a hero, and what Morgana did can't take that away. But even if you hadn't saved all of Camelot, you're still my friend."

Lancelot just looked at him with a depth of sadness Merlin couldn't hope to plumb. He could only hope time would mend the wounds he couldn't.

Gwaine came to see him the next day, bearing a bottle of ale as a get-well gift. Gaius swiftly confiscated it with nothing more than a disapproving glower.

Gwaine huffed and rolled his eyes before turning to Lancelot, who was sitting up against the headboard of Merlin's bed. "You're looking better."

Lancelot didn't say anything, filling the room with an awkward silence.

"He is getting better," Merlin put in cheerily.

"Merlin and Gaius are skilled caretakers," Lancelot commented in a subdued tone.

Again, no one seemed to know what to say. The discomfort was irking Merlin and he tried to think of some way to break it when Lancelot spoke up again.

"I owe you an apology, Gwaine. I owe everyone my deepest apologies."

Gwaine frowned. "For what?"

"I betrayed you all, betrayed the Knight's Code, betrayed Arthur."

Gwaine flicked a glance at Merlin before responding, "As I understand it, you weren't exactly yourself. In fact, I'd say the rest of us owe you an apology, for not figuring it out sooner."

Lancelot shook his head. "Morgana was…thorough. There was no way you could know."

"Morgana isn't as clever as she thinks," Gwaine rejoined. "After all, we did discover it."

"But not in time to stop me." Lancelot looked away.

"Maybe not, but at least she didn't get away with us being none the wiser. I know things are rough right now, but she doesn't have to win this one. For one thing, we got you back, and that's a win on our side."

Lancelot didn't look convinced, but he canted his head as though in agreement.

"I should go," Gwaine said. "Gaius is giving me the evil eye."

Merlin glanced past the knight to where Gaius was, in fact, shooting pointed looks their way.

"Keep getting better," Gwaine ordered as he headed out.

Merlin smiled to himself as the knight left, but it slipped when he saw Lancelot inching down under the blankets. "You want some tea?"

Lancelot shook his head, then stopped. "Sure."

Merlin went to make some. It worried him, this chill that clung to Lancelot like the opposite of a persistent fever. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had been in the beginning though, so maybe he just needed more time to recover.

That night, Merlin jolted awake to the sound of a strangled cry coming from his room. Gaius bolted from his bed too and they both barged into the small room to find Lancelot twisting and turning in a tangle of blankets, face scrunched up in agony as heart-rending pleas spilled from his lips.

"No, please."

"Lancelot! Wake up!" Merlin grabbed his shoulders, but Lancelot tried to wrench away from him. Merlin ducked his head and hissed a spell. In the next instant, Lancelot's eyes shot open and he sucked in a ragged gasp like a drowning man.

"Morgana!" he gasped, eyes wild as he clutched at Merlin's arms.

"She's gone," Merlin said. "She can't touch you anymore."

Lancelot closed his eyes and shuddered. "I feel so cold, Merlin," he whispered. "Like I'm still that…empty thing."

"You're not," Merlin promised. "You're alive and you're you."

Lancelot continued to shiver uncontrollably.

"Let's go into the outer room and start a fire," Gaius suggested.

Merlin nodded and the two of them helped Lancelot from bed and down the steps. Merlin uttered a spell to ignite a fire instantaneously, and they settled Lancelot into a chair next to it. Merlin darted back into his room to retrieve some blankets.

"What if she can reclaim me?" Lancelot murmured, so low that Merlin wasn't sure whether the question was directed at them or not. "Maybe it would be safer to kill me, before that happens."

"What? No—"

"But then she could just raise me again," Lancelot went on as though he hadn't heard Merlin's protest. "I'm a danger to everyone either way."

Merlin knelt next to his friend and squeezed his arm fervently to get his attention. "Listen to me, I won't let her anywhere near you again, I swear it."

Lancelot shifted pain-filled eyes to him. "You can't promise that, Merlin."

"I'm a warlock, remember? Destined to be the most powerful warlock of all time. She will not have you."

Lancelot looked as though he desperately wanted to believe that, but a violent shiver broke their eye contact and he curled in on himself.

Merlin reached out and placed his palm over Lancelot's brow, whispering the spell he'd used before to soothe his friend into a peaceful sleep. Lancelot's eyes slid closed and he sagged in the chair. Gaius pulled the blankets up to tuck around his shoulders.

"She can't reclaim his soul, right, Gaius?" Merlin asked, now feeling a similar strain of dread.

Gaius just shrugged. "I don't know, Merlin. You said you severed her connection to him."

Merlin nodded. He had, he knew he had.

"Then all we can do is hope she cannot reach him." Gaius paused. "And if she can, then at least you know how to break it again."

Merlin's stomach clenched at the thought. That battle had been fierce enough as it was, and Lancelot had suffered greatly, being the center of it. Merlin didn't want to think what another fight for his soul would do to him.

But Gaius was right; all they could do was keep going and see what happened.

Despite the nightmares and lingering chill, Lancelot did continue to regain his strength. Eventually he found the wherewithal to leave his sickbed and sit out at the table with them for meals. Sometimes he helped stuff pouches of herbs for Gaius.

The rest of the Knights of the Round Table visited, each of them showing their relief and joy at seeing Lancelot recovering. And each time Lancelot would apologize for the deceit and grief he'd wrought. He even told Elyan it would be within the knight's right to seek satisfaction for the wrong Lancelot had committed against his sister.

Elyan, to his credit, was completely dubious at the suggestion.

"I know that wasn't you," he said.

"Still," Lancelot persisted. "I know there is nothing that can ever make it right."

Merlin held his tongue until Elyan left, then rounded on Lancelot. "Would you stop apologizing? How many times do we have to tell you it wasn't your fault?"

"It was still my actions."

"Do you blame Guinevere, then?"

"No! Of course not. She was enchanted."

"And you had no control over what Morgana told you to do."

Lancelot didn't respond and simply looked away, but it wasn't a concession because he believed what Merlin was saying. The argument was an old, tired one, and it wasn't Merlin's or even the other knights' forgiveness that he needed.

Arthur didn't come to see him. Of course he was getting daily reports from Gaius on Lancelot's condition and seemed pleased the knight was recovering. Merlin understood why Arthur was keeping his distance, but it wasn't doing Lancelot any favors. It wasn't doing Arthur and Gwen any favors either.

Chapter Text

It was nearly two weeks before Lancelot was strong enough to move about on his own power for any length of time, but once he was able, he set off toward the council chamber to present himself to King Arthur. He walked slowly, his heart in his throat and shame burning away some of his usual chill. He'd left his sweater behind and changed into his mail so as to be presentable for what he had to do.

He almost balked at the doors, yet he swallowed hard and pushed them open. The murmur of the council members instantly hushed upon his arrival and he felt the multiple sets of eyes skewering him like flaming spears.

"Lancelot," Arthur said in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you."

He focused on looking at Arthur's chest and not his face. Taking a few steps closer, he dropped to one knee and ducked his head. "My liege, I come to lay down my life in payment for my unforgivable betrayal."

The room seemed frozen at his declaration. What had the council members thought this whole time of Arthur's leniency with the man who had so greatly wronged him?

After a moment, Arthur cleared his throat. "Leave us," he said to the room.

Lancelot tried to keep his breathing calm as everyone filed out. It would leave a mess, executing him right here, yet he doubted Arthur would want to make a spectacle of it. He didn't have the bloodthirsty streak Uther had.

"Lancelot…" Arthur began. He sighed audibly. "Would you stand up?"

Lancelot forced himself to rise but kept his gaze averted downward. "I cannot ask forgiveness, for I do not deserve it."

"It wasn't your doing," Arthur replied, but the words sounded rote and not as though they held any conviction.

A few moments of silence passed between them.

"I'll leave Camelot," he said. "And never return." He finally lifted his gaze to Arthur's. "I never wanted to come between you and Guinevere, and I don't know how to live with this stain upon my honor. So if you do not wish to take satisfaction, I will leave, and pray my name fades from history and the minds of everyone I have wronged."

Arthur shook his head as though annoyed, though Lancelot wasn't sure if it was directed at him. "Lancelot…no. Your honor is unblemished. Stay." This time he sounded sincere. "You are a Knight of Camelot and always will be."

Lancelot's heart gave a pang for what he had once been. "You cannot stand the sight of Gwen," he said carefully. "I don't imagine you can stand the sight of me either. If there is any chance for you two to reconcile, I should not stay. I will not bring further pain to you."

Arthur didn't seem to have anything to say to that, and after another prolonged beat of silence, Lancelot turned to leave.

"Wait."

He halted and slowly turned back around.

"You're right," Arthur said. "It has been painful, and I've distanced myself from Guinevere because of it. I do hope we can rebuild trust between us—all three of us," he added, taking a step closer. "Which we can only do if you stay."

Lancelot grimaced, torn by the offer.

Arthur closed the distance and put a hand on his shoulder. "You have been greatly wronged too, Lancelot. This is your home and I would not cast you out." He quirked an attempted smile. "I think my knights would have something to say about that."

Lancelot couldn't return the humor, and Arthur's expression sobered.

"Please, stay."

Lancelot felt his resolve weakening. This was his home and his friends were here. The thought of being out in the cold, alone, sent a shiver down his spine.

He inclined his head in acquiescence, a spark of hope kindling in his shadowed heart.

.o.0.o.

Arthur waited a few more hours before he sent Merlin to fetch Gwen and bring her to his chambers. The recent distance had numbed some of his wounded heart, but he didn't know if it would all reopen when he saw her again. Yet he had made Lancelot a promise, more or less, to try to repair their fractured relationships. And he did not want Morgana to have won.

A tentative knock on the door announced Merlin's return, and his servant poked his head in.

"I have Gwen," he said.

Arthur nodded, granting permission for her to enter.

Merlin stepped back to let her through, cast one last encouraging look at them both, and then closed the door to give them privacy.

Arthur held his breath as he regarded her, braced for a resurgence of agony. There was pain, but it was duller this time, stained with grief and remorse instead of anger.

Gwen stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped before her, head tilted slightly down. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

"How are you?" she asked first.

"Lonely," he said without thinking.

She bit her lip and looked down again. "Me too."

"I forgive you, Gwen," Arthur said, and he was surprised how steady the words came out. Up until this moment he'd been afraid he couldn't mean them.

She whipped her gaze up, eyes lighting with hope. "Does this mean we're…"

"I want to rebuild trust between us," he said. "I know you didn't willfully betray it, but it's going to take time to fix nonetheless."

She nodded vigorously. "Of course." She quirked a small smile at him. "I waited years for you; I will wait as long as it takes."

Arthur risked moving closer and reached out to take her hand. He'd missed her touch, but this was all he was going to allow himself for now. Small gestures. Starting from the beginning.

"Have you seen Lancelot?" he asked.

"No," she gushed, eyes widening in horror. "I wouldn't—"

Arthur squeezed her hand and gave it a tug to cut her off. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean how that sounded. I know you two were friends. I told Lancelot we could rebuild the trust among all three of us, and I meant it."

Gwen hesitated warily. "Elyan and Merlin have told me he's recovering. I- I can't imagine what he's been through."

Arthur nodded. "Neither can I. Morgana…she's brought so much pain and suffering. I still wonder how it all went so wrong."

Gwen squeezed his hand back. "There was nothing you could have done. She felt betrayed by Uther and it drove her to revenge."

Arthur lifted his head staunchly. And that was why he would not make the same mistake with his cherished ones here and now. He would stand by them in their time of need.

They would stand by each other.

.o.0.o.

Lancelot was sitting at the table tying bundles of herbs together for Gaius when Gwaine barged in with a burst of his usual gusto.

"Come on," he said without preamble. "We're heading out to train. You should join us."

Lancelot was too stunned for a moment to think of a response. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to keep up with you," he finally said.

"All the more reason to start building your strength back up," Gwaine replied and clapped his hands together cheerily. "Am I right, Gaius?" he said, turning to the physician for his expert opinion.

"I see no reason why not," Gaius said. "Gwaine's right, the activity will do you good. As long as you don't push yourself too hard," he added as a caveat.

Lancelot still didn't like the idea, but he had no other good excuse to make, so he reluctantly stood and went to change into his mail before following an eager Gwaine out to the training field.

Merlin was already there handling their gear and flashed Lancelot a bright smile. Lancelot couldn't manage to return it. He felt nervous as the other knights noticed him and headed his way, even though they all greeted him with hearty claps on the back and warm smiles. It didn't put him at ease though. This was once his home, his found family, and yet he had never felt so out of place as he did now.

Gwaine went over and picked up two blunted blades. "Come on, then," he goaded, holding one of them out to Lancelot. "I need a change of pace from these girls."

The sword felt heavy in Lancelot's hand and his stomach clenched with discomfort as he slowly moved out into the middle of the field to face Gwaine. The other knight advanced first, and it was painfully obvious that his initial blow was mild. Lancelot jolted as he raised his blade to block. He knew the moves by heart but his reflexes were slower than they used to be.

Gwaine continued to go easy on him, nodding in approval when Lancelot kept up with the blocks and parries. "You'll be back to fighting fit in no time," he said, and again there was sincerity behind his tone.

They took a break, and Lancelot went to get some water. The exercise was tiring him out.

Merlin came to stand beside him. "How're you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I suppose."

The sun was beating down on them, but Lancelot couldn't feel its warmth. He wasn't about to tell Merlin that, though. He'd already done enough to worry his friend and Merlin didn't deserve the burden.

He stayed on the sidelines and watched the others train. Memories of the lot of them sparring together, sharing laughs and jibes, floated through his mind, but they felt like an echo of a dream that had long since ended.

Or it was that his time with them had ended with his death. He no longer belonged here…no longer deserved to be here.

Sir Leon strolled over, looking tentative. "Ready for another round?"

The offer seemed genuine and Lancelot couldn't detect any mistrust or suspicion behind Leon's demeanor. The knights were trying to welcome him back into the fold.

Still, Lancelot felt awkward as he accepted. This time he felt the strain in his muscles more quickly as he swung his sword up to meet Leon's. They exchanged only a few blows before Lancelot staggered and lost his balance, ending up sprawled on the ground flat on his back. He lay there for a moment, fighting to catch his breath.

"You all right?" Leon asked with concern.

Shame flooded Lancelot as he realized the others had stopped to look. "Fine."

Leon offered him a hand up and Lancelot begrudgingly took it.

"Perhaps that's enough for today," Leon suggested.

Lancelot clenched his jaw. "I shouldn't have come. I'm not fit to train with you. I'm not even fit to be a knight," he added bitterly.

Leon quirked a confused look at him. "You just need time to get your strength back."

Lancelot didn't know how to explain that it wasn't just that at all, that he felt like a stranger among his one-time brotherhood. Sometimes he still felt like a stranger in his own body.

Arthur arrived, and Lancelot's mortification increased ten-fold. He kept his gaze averted as Arthur walked a circuit of the field and then directed Elyan and Gwaine to have a go. He walked over to stand next to Lancelot.

"It's good to see you out here," he commented.

"My sword isn't as useful as it once was," Lancelot replied quietly.

"You fought rather well when you weren't even technically alive," Arthur responded casually. "I have every confidence you'll get there again."

Lancelot winced at the reminder of his time as a shade, even if there had been no malice behind it.

"That's enough," Arthur called to Elyan and Gwaine. "Percival." He waved the large knight forward to duel him next.

Lancelot braced one arm across his chest and held the opposite elbow. He wanted to redeem himself to Arthur, to his fellow knights. It just seemed like an impossible feat from his current vantage point.

When the training was over, they all retired indoors for a meal and some wine. Lancelot hadn't wanted to go with them, but Gwaine and Merlin had hedged him in and swept him along, not giving him a chance to slip away.

He sat at the table and ate sparingly, stilted and uncomfortable as jovial conversation flowed around him. He had nothing to contribute. His recent existence had consisted of Gaius's chambers and before that being an agent of Morgana's.

He could remember the last time he'd sat around this table with his friends, after the tournament when he'd been a wolf in sheep's clothing, telling a false tale and pretending to drink and toast his return. Remembering awakened that cold feeling deep within his bones, in his soul.

Percival suddenly leaned in, startling him out of his trance. "If you need a break, I'll walk out with you," he whispered.

Lancelot let out a slow breath. "Thank you," he whispered back, "but I'm alright." He stood up, causing the merrymaking to pause. "If I may retire, Sire," he asked respectfully. He couldn't tell whether Arthur looked disappointed, concerned, or understanding, but Arthur nodded.

"Of course."

Lancelot took his leave and started back to Gaius's. The physical exertion along with the emotional had left him exhausted.

He rounded a corner and jolted to an abrupt stop as he nearly walked into Gwen.

"Sorry!" she gushed before realizing who he was. Then her eyes widened. "Lancelot," she breathed.

The whisper of his name on her lips brought forth the memories of their liaison in the council chambers, of her sensual touch responding to his… Lancelot staggered back a step, horrorstricken.

She frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Gwen…I can never express how sorry I am for what I did to you and Arthur. I never wanted…"

Gwen shook her head and moved closer. "It wasn't your fault."

He recoiled sharply, and she stopped, expression pinching.

"I think it's best if I keep my distance," he said. "I don't want to do anything to jeopardize you and Arthur reconciling."

"Arthur knows our feelings for each other were manipulated by Morgana."

Lancelot's heart clenched. His actions may have been manipulated, but Morgana had chosen him because his feelings were real. They still were, though now tainted by the horror of what he'd done. No, he needed to stay away from Gwen, for Arthur's sake.

"Then, you two are…?" he asked hesitantly.

"We're going to work on it," Gwen said.

Lancelot nodded. At least there was some solace in that. "Good. Excuse me, my lady," he said, giving her a bow and then beating a hasty retreat back to Gaius's.

He swept through the outer room without so much as a greeting and sequestered himself in Merlin's room, breathing harshly as he fought to gain control of his emotions. Except, as he looked around the small space, his self-loathing only amplified. He'd taken his friend's bed away from him for the past couple of weeks, leaving Merlin to sleep in the outer chamber on the floor. That needed to end.

But Lancelot realized he didn't have any chambers in the castle, and he didn't feel like he had the right to ask for any.

A knock on the door interrupted his pacing and he looked over as Gaius cracked the door open.

"Everything all right?" the old man asked.

Lancelot felt the last of his energy bleed away and he sank onto the bed. "No. Everyone keeps asking me that, and I keep saying I'm fine. But the truth is I don't know how I'm supposed to be fine in all this."

Gaius nodded sympathetically. "It will take time."

Lancelot bristled. "Everyone is saying that too."

"Probably because it's true. I think you need to give yourself permission to heal at whatever rate it takes. You came back from the dead; that is no small thing. And everyone understands that."

Lancelot sighed and hung his head. "Death was easier," he murmured.

"Indeed," Gaius replied. "But then, you've never chosen the easy path, have you?"

Lancelot looked up, taken aback by the knowing smile Gaius was directing at him. He huffed out a weak laugh. "I suppose that's true."

He'd had to overcome many obstacles in his life, many heartbreaks. He'd just have to overcome this too.

Chapter Text

Another week went by, and despite Lancelot's doubts, he did continue to get better. He kept up his training and gradually regained his strength and stamina until he could keep up with the other knights, and he finally started to feel more like himself.

But each phase of progress was overshadowed by all-consuming guilt whenever he saw Arthur or Gwen, and especially when he saw them together. Arthur was cordial to her, and she had reverted to the respectful, demure servant she had once been. Any overtures were awkward as they tried to navigate the rift between them—the rift Lancelot had caused.

He continued to avoid Gwen at all times lest he kindle suspicion or jealousy in Arthur's heart again. Avoiding Arthur wasn't feasible, so Lancelot kept quiet and subdued around the King, focusing only on being the dutiful knight and nothing more.

Until the day Arthur summoned him to the council chamber and asked if he remembered from his time under Morgana's spell where her hideout was.

Lancelot stood frozen in the middle of the room, terror squeezing his heart like a vise in anticipation of what Arthur would ask next.

"Lancelot?" Arthur prompted. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Morgana's…hideout," he repeated.

"Yes. You said she brought you there after she raised you. Can you lead us there?"

"It's been weeks, Sire," he said hurriedly. "It's unlikely she's still there."

Arthur canted his head in agreement. "That may be, but we should check anyway."

Lancelot's blood ran cold.

"So, do you remember?" Arthur pressed.

Lancelot swallowed around the hard lump in his throat trying to suffocate him. "Yes," he barely managed to get out. "I think I can."

Arthur nodded in approval. "Gather the others. We'll ride out in an hour."

Lancelot almost forgot to bow as he backed out of the chamber, heart thudding and stomach churning. If Morgana was smart, she would have abandoned that location once her hold over Lancelot had been broken, precisely because he could lead the knights back to her.

But what if she was still there? What if seeing her would allow her to get her hooks into him again? What if she reclaimed his soul and turned him against Arthur? What if this time she demanded he kill his King?

Lancelot stumbled into the wall as his breaths started to come hard and fast. Bile rose in the back of his throat at the thought of being enslaved by her again. He couldn't go through that again.

But he couldn't deny Arthur, and as a Knight of Camelot it was his duty to investigate an evil sorceress's lair. It was his duty to give his life to protect the kingdom.

But what if the cost was his soul?

"Lancelot!"

Hands suddenly gripped his arms, and he lifted his head to find Merlin's eyes wide with worry.

"Arthur just told me where we're going. Are you all right?" Merlin gave a sharp head shake. "Never mind, of course you're not. I'll talk to Arthur, tell him you're not up for this—"

"No." Lancelot seized Merlin's arm. "No. I'll be fine." He forced himself to stand up straighter.

Merlin didn't look convinced. "You don't have to do this."

"It's unlikely she's still there," he said, repeating his earlier words as though saying it again would help make it true.

"Then there's no point in going."

Lancelot gave him a wry look. "You and I both know that's not true."

Merlin huffed. "Alright. Are you sure about this though?"

He nodded slowly. "Do me a favor and let the others know. I- I need a minute."

Merlin still looked worried. "Sure."

Casting one last concerned glance at Lancelot, he left. Lancelot took another moment to force his lungs to work less strenuously. Then he pushed away from the wall and made his way to the armory. He already had his mail and sword belt, but he found a dagger he could keep strapped up his sleeve for easy release.

He then headed outside to the stable to retrieve a horse. The other knights began to arrive as well as they received word of the mission from Merlin. By the end of the hour, they were all ready to go when Arthur joined them. He nodded to Lancelot, giving him the lead.

Lancelot's stomach was in knots as he turned his steed toward the gate and set off. He actually didn't have a clear picture of where Morgana's hut was; that knowledge wasn't "important" at the time. But he remembered, and if he concentrated on those memories, he might be able to retrace his steps when she'd finally set him loose upon Camelot.

Calling up those memories left him nauseated and cold, though, reminding him of the way Morgana's magic had brushed across his mind like caressing fingers, the way his entire essence had been focused on one thing—serving her will.

A horse's knicker announced Merlin riding up beside him.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Lancelot nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He thought they were getting closer. He held up a fist to signal they stop, then dismounted. The others followed suit, keeping silent and following his lead. The soft scritch of steel being drawn from scabbards sounded behind him.

Lancelot let out a shaky breath as he forced himself to place one foot in front of the other. The cold touch of the blade on the inside of his arm gave him courage. He would do this, because Arthur had asked. But he had to ensure he would not be taken again.

.o.0.o.

Arthur kept a tight grip on his sword as they cautiously made their way through the woods. Part of him truly didn't expect Morgana to still be around. Agravaine had likely gone straight to her after his banishment, and with Lancelot alive to potentially lead a force back to them, it would have been foolish to remain.

Had Lancelot not been gravely ill, Arthur might have suggested this sooner. Or if he hadn't been distraught over Guinevere, he might have thought to have Agravaine followed. The benefits of hindsight and calmer minds.

So they were not likely to run into Morgana out here, but best to keep their guard up. And who knew what magical traps Morgana might have left for them.

"Pst," Gwaine signaled, jerking his head at something up ahead. There was a thatched dome roof showing through gaps in the trees.

Arthur signaled for his men to fan out and approach the entrance. They moved as stealthily as possible, stepping lightly across the grass. The place seemed quiet. Arthur felt the back of his neck prickle and he glanced over his shoulder at Merlin who was following close behind. He rolled his eyes and flicked a meaningful look at him to stay back. Merlin scowled.

Percival and Gwaine reached the door of the hut first. Giving each other a nod, they burst through the door. Arthur tensed, reflexes coiled to respond at the first sign of attack.

A moment later the two knights reemerged and shook their heads.

"Doesn't look like anyone's been in this hovel for a while," Gwaine reported.

Arthur released the breath he'd been holding and sheathed his sword. He honestly didn't know whether to be disappointed or not. Morgana was still out there, was still a threat, yet the truth of the matter was he didn't know how he and his knights would even be able to survive let alone win an encounter with a very powerful sorceress.

Gwaine's brows furrowed. "Arthur…" he said in warning, gaze looking past him. He didn't raise his weapon, so Arthur turned to look in confusion.

He stiffened at the sight of Lancelot standing paralyzed, holding a dagger point against himself, angled up toward his heart. He was white as chalk and staring unseeing at the hut.

"Lancelot?" Arthur queried.

The knight didn't respond. His hand trembled but the point of the dagger didn't waver from its target.

"Lancelot, what are you doing?"

It was like he couldn't even hear them. Arthur glanced around, wondering if Morgana was in fact here and working her magic on him from hiding.

"He doesn't want to risk falling under Morgana's control again," Merlin said urgently. "Lancelot! She's not here!"

Still he didn't seem to hear them, his eyes wide and fixed on the door as though waiting for the exact moment Morgana would reveal herself, poised to strike before she could.

The other knights exchanged harried looks, unsure what to do.

Arthur held out his arms to keep them calm and started to slowly approach his friend. Step by step he drew closer, careful not to make any sudden movements. Lancelot didn't react at all. Arthur cautiously reached out and closed his hand around Lancelot's wrist, grasping tightly to keep him from plunging that dagger into his heart.

Lancelot finally jolted and snapped his gaze to Arthur's, pupils dilated with terror. Arthur deftly wrenched the blade from his grip and passed it off to Sir Leon, who was closest.

"I can't let her take me again," Lancelot stuttered, his breaths coming harsher now. "I won't be used to hurt you again."

His legs abruptly buckled and Arthur struggled to catch him, both of them falling to their knees. Alarm zinged through Arthur as he felt violent tremors ripping through the other knight.

"That's not going to happen," he said fiercely. "Morgana isn't here." He reached out to clasp the back of Lancelot's neck reassuringly and was startled by how cold he felt to the touch. "Merlin!"

Merlin darted over and dropped down beside them. "He's freezing," he said, looking as alarmed as Arthur felt.

"Alright, let's leave this place," Arthur declared. He waved for the others to move out and started to haul Lancelot to his feet.

Percival ducked in to support Lancelot's weight with Merlin on the other side as they made their way back to the horses. Lancelot was practically catatonic and in no shape to ride.

"We should start a fire," Merlin said. "Try to get him warm."

Arthur gave a clipped nod and waved at Elyan and Leon to gather some wood. Percival eased Lancelot to the ground to lean against a tree trunk while Merlin went to raid some saddle blankets from the horses.

"Is this from being so close to Morgana's magic?" Arthur asked in concern. "This is how he was before."

Merlin exhaled in frustration as he yanked a blanket off his own mount. "Honestly, I think it's just shock. We shouldn't have come out here." He hurried over to Lancelot and tucked the blanket around him.

Arthur frowned in consideration. Lancelot's face was still stricken with a terror so profound that Arthur could barely fathom it. He had no idea what it was like to be trapped in his body with no control, forced to watch himself walk and speak, a puppet whose strings were being pulled by someone else. He tried to imagine what he would feel if, after being freed from such a nightmarish existence, he ran into the same person who had enslaved him once before—who had the power to enslave him again.

Arthur shook his head at himself as remorse washed over him.

Elyan and Leon returned and they got a fire going quickly, stirring the flames up as much as they could. Merlin dug out a pouch of herbs and set about making a tea while the rest of them stood around useless.

It took twenty minutes for Merlin to heat the water and steep the herbs, and then he finally brought a steaming tin cup over to where Lancelot sat, shivering under the blankets.

"Here," Merlin said, holding the cup to the knight's lips.

Lancelot finally shifted his vacant gaze to Merlin as though just noticing him. He took a drink, then seemed to become aware of the rest of them as well. He ducked his gaze in what Arthur could only describe as shame.

"Why don't you check the area," Arthur said to the rest of the knights, shooting them a pointed look.

They slowly retreated to give them a moment alone. Percival looked reluctant to leave Lancelot's side, but Merlin cleared his throat and said he'd go with him. He made sure Lancelot could support the cup of tea in his hands before getting up and leaving.

Once the two of them were alone, Arthur came and crouched down next to Lancelot. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to do this."

Lancelot kept his eyes fixed on the rim of his cup. "I would never refuse my King," he said softly.

"And that is exactly why I shouldn't have asked. I should have realized what I was truly asking you to do and found another way."

Lancelot closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I can no longer serve you," he whispered. "I'm a potential liability should Morgana ever get her hooks into me again. And at worst I'm a coward."

Arthur shook his head with fond exasperation at his knight's priorities. But then, Lancelot had always been the noblest of them all. "Fear of sorcery isn't cowardice, it's wisdom. And Morgana has gotten to each of us in one way or another. We will find a way to stop her."

Lancelot finally lifted his head, expression pained. "Look at me; I'm not fit to wear the knight's uniform."

"There has never been a man more deserving than you," Arthur countered ardently. "From the day we met."

Lancelot squeezed his eyes shut in anguish again.

Arthur gripped his shoulder fervently. "Do not let Morgana take this from you too. Not after everything you've overcome."

Lancelot let out a shuddering breath. When he opened his eyes, there was resignation in them. "I will do as my King asks."

It was the answer Arthur wanted, but not given in the spirit he wished to see. Still, he would take it for now, and hope that Lancelot would find his confidence again with time.

He nodded and gave his friend's shoulder an encouraging squeeze before he stood and moved away to give him some space.

Not much later, the others returned. They waited a little bit longer for Lancelot to recover more, and then finally mounted up to return to Camelot. Arthur gave the matter some serious thought on the way, and when they arrived at the citadel, he immediately went to speak with Gaius about it.

Which meant following Merlin and Lancelot as Merlin helped the sick knight back to Gaius's chambers. Arthur felt a little awkward, trailing behind them, especially when Merlin cast him an odd look over his shoulder. Arthur then pretended that seeing Lancelot into Gaius's care had been his intention from the start.

It wasn't until they reached Gaius's chambers and Merlin helped Lancelot up the back steps into his own room that Arthur realized Lancelot had been staying here ever since his resurrection. Why hadn't he asked for chambers in the castle? As a knight he was entitled to them.

Ah, but there it was: Lancelot still felt uncertain about his place here. Arthur needed to remedy that.

But first…

"Gaius," he said once Merlin and Lancelot were in the other room.

"Yes, Sire?"

"I wanted to know if there's a protective amulet or something that could shield Lancelot from Morgana's magic."

Gaius's brows rose sharply in surprise. "You are speaking of a magical amulet…"

"Yes." If magic was the only way to protect his friend, or at least give Lancelot peace of mind, then Arthur was willing to explore it. He may still have held many reservations on the subject and didn't fully trust magic, but he had seen it do good things. It wasn't all evil as his father had believed. "Do you think you could find something like that?"

Gaius canted his head thoughtfully. "It's possible. I don't know if I could say it would protect from all forms of evil magic."

"But some of it," Arthur pressed. "At least enough to keep Morgana out of Lancelot's mind should we come across her again?"

Gaius's expression smoothed in understanding. "Ah. Yes, I can try to find something for that."

Arthur nodded. "Please do."

He then turned and headed for the back room. Merlin looked startled at his entrance and straightened from adding more blankets to the bed Lancelot had settled on.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked curiously.

"It occurs to me you don't have your own chambers," he said to Lancelot.

"Uh, no," Lancelot confirmed.

"Your old ones were never given to someone else," Arthur told him. "I'll have them aired out and cleaned for you."

"But if you'd like to stay here, you're welcome to," Merlin put in.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "He can't stay in your bed forever, Mer-lin. You need a good night sleep so you can be awake bright and early for your chores."

Merlin huffed. "You're such a prat."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "He's a knight of Camelot and should have his own chambers."

Lancelot looked up then, forestalling any further bickering, and gave a nod of gratitude. "Thank you."

Arthur merely nodded back.

He looked after his knights.

Chapter Text

Lancelot stayed one more night with Merlin and Gaius, mostly to appease them since they were both concerned by his relapse. But he recovered more easily this time and finally moved into his own chambers—his old chambers. It felt strange being in them again. Months had passed between his death and resurrection and yet he hadn't been aware of any of it. Stepping into them now, cleaned and aired out, it almost felt like no time had passed at all.

And yet he still couldn't manage to feel completely comfortable there. It was only right for Merlin to have his bed back after all this time, but Lancelot couldn't help but feel lonely.

Even though Merlin checked on him often enough that Lancelot made a joke about Merlin being more his servant than Arthur's.

Merlin had merely given him that customary grin of his and carried on with whatever he wanted.

Soon thereafter he brought Lancelot an amulet, a small red stone set into a pendant.

"For protection against Morgana."

Lancelot took the necklace dubiously. "Is this real?"

Merlin nodded. "It took me some time to find a spell to cast on it, and granted I haven't actually tested it to see if it works, but there's no reason it shouldn't."

Lancelot slipped the chain over his head and tucked the amulet under his shirt. "Thank you, Merlin."

"It was actually Arthur's idea."

Lancelot furrowed his brow. "Arthur knows you have magic?"

"No! He asked Gaius to find a protection amulet for you. No one needs to know where Gaius got it from."

Lancelot didn't know what to say. Arthur's views on magic appeared to be growing more open-minded, but for him to go so far as to seek it out for Lancelot's sake…

"Maybe there's hope for Arthur one day learning your secret," he said.

Merlin laughed. "Maybe. One day." He beamed again. "It's so nice to have you back. I don't have to hide who I am with you."

Lancelot gave him a sad smile. He wished they lived in a time and place where Merlin didn't have to hide his gift for fear of his life. He did so much good with it; he was the hero more often than not but was never able to take credit for the times he'd saved them.

"One day," he repeated, with all his hope for it to be true.

Time went on. Lancelot wore the amulet and never took it off. He couldn't know for certain it was protecting him but the hope that it did gave him some measure of peace as he carried on with his duties as a knight.

Arthur and Gwen started to grow closer again. Lancelot watched Arthur surprise her with flowers one afternoon, watched her face light up and Arthur's glow with pure adoration. He was happy for them.

It was almost like old times again, him and the knights, him and Merlin, and yet Lancelot still felt as though something was…off. He still chilled far too easily and his sleep was plagued with shadows and distant screams. Sometimes when he was alone walking down a corridor he heard whispers, susurrations too faint to make out. It set his nerves on edge.

One day on their way back from patrol, the knights stopped to water their horses at a stream. Elyan and Gwaine were exchanging some banter, though Lancelot wasn't really following. He felt a touch of cold brush across his cheek, but there was no breeze, no rustle in the trees above.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and he jerked his gaze to the left. There, in the woods, was a wispy figure with skin as pale as marble and translucent in places. Milky white eyes stared straight back at him, skewering him like hooks where he stood. Indistinct whispers slithered past his ear. The specter didn't move, but Lancelot could feel it beckoning, could feel it tentatively tugging at his core.

"Oy, Lancelot!"

He jolted sharply as he snapped back to awareness, sound suddenly rushing back into his ears.

Gwaine was standing next to him. "You all right, mate?"

Lancelot flicked a startled look at him, then back at the woods. The phantom was gone.

Gwaine followed his gaze, quirking a wary brow. "See something?"

The others were looking around as well.

Lancelot's mouth was dry and he swallowed thickly. "No," he managed to get out. "Nothing."

He tried to shake off the experience as they resumed their journey back to Camelot. He was cold again, a feeling he was beginning to loathe. As soon as they returned he slipped away to his chambers where he built a fire up in the hearth as high as he could get, trying to stave off the encroaching chill.

That night, he heard the whispers again. Never any words, just…murmurs of malcontent. He didn't see any more apparitions though.

He started to wonder if the amulet Merlin had given him was having some unintended side effects. And so even though it made him feel vulnerable again, he took it off the next day and left it in his room when he went out for training.

He was exhausted from lack of sleep which slowed his reflexes some, but not enough to garner comment from his fellow knights.

Until during a round of sword practice with Sir Leon, a phantom was suddenly standing there on the sidelines. Lancelot felt those glacial pricks pierce him again, stealing the breath from his lungs and fixing him in place. Leon swung, fully expecting him to block, only he didn't. There was a startled cry as Leon tried to pull back abruptly, but he couldn't stop the broadside of the blade from slamming into Lancelot's arm. The force sent him crashing to the ground, and the impact seemed to break the spell, bringing him back to himself again.

Pounding footsteps converged on him.

"What happened?" someone exclaimed.

"I don't know." That was Leon, and he sounded distraught.

"Lancelot."

He blinked, trying to shake the fog from his mind. "I'm all right."

Percival bent down to give him a hand up. He winced at the fierce throbbing in his arm and reached across himself to cup his elbow while his gaze immediately sought out the specter. It was gone.

"How bad is it?" Elyan asked.

Lancelot craned his neck to look. He didn't see any blood nor feel any wetness under his mail.

"We should get you to Gaius."

He shook his head. "Nothing's broken, just bruised. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He hated the doubtful looks they were all giving him. He had just started feeling like he'd earned his place among the knights again and now this.

"Alright," he relented. "I can get to him myself though."

Without waiting for any more protests, he pushed past their concerned huddle and walked off the field. But he didn't go to Gaius and instead went straight to his chambers where he painfully pulled his mail and shirt off and inspected his bicep. It was darkening with red and would likely be a deep puce color tomorrow.

He flexed his muscles a few times carefully, just to make sure there wasn't any more damage. Confident there wasn't, he slipped into another shirt and went to retrieve the amulet to put back on. Then he rubbed tiredly at his face and sank onto his bed. Maybe he just needed more sleep.

.o.0.o.

Despite asking Gaius for something to help him sleep, Lancelot continued to feel on edge as the days went on. He didn't see any more phantoms, but he felt like he was being…watched. It made him jumpy.

He paused in the corridor, empty at the moment save for him. Torch light undulated across the walls, contorting in a wild dance with the shadows. Hushed voices echoed faintly.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder and Lancelot whirled, whipping his sword from its scabbard. Merlin scrambled backward.

"Whoa, it's me!"

Lancelot stared in wide-eyed horror, chest heaving. "Merlin! I'm so sorry…"

"No worries," he brushed off, followed by a frown. "You okay?"

Lancelot quickly ducked his gaze under the guise of sheathing his blade. "Fine, sorry, you just startled me." He could feel Merlin's gaze boring into him.

"You sure?"

"I'm just not sleeping well," he hedged.

Merlin's mouth turned down further. "Gaius's medicine isn't helping?"

"No, it is," he quickly backpedaled. "Most of the time. Sort of." He sighed. "The nightmares aren't as bad. I just feel…tired."

Merlin glanced up and down the passage, then leaned closer. "I could try a magical solution," he offered.

Lancelot hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't trust Merlin, but what if being the recipient of so much magic was…detrimental to mortals? First walking through the veil, then Morgana, then Merlin…Lancelot was feeling frayed and he wasn't sure more magic was the solution.

"No, it's alright," he declined. "I'm sure I'll get over it eventually."

"Okay…" Merlin looked doubtful.

Lancelot forced a pained smile onto his face and bid Merlin goodnight.

He didn't even make it back to his chambers before the susurrations chased him down, hissing from dark corners and vanishing the moment he spun around to find them. He quickened his pace trying to escape them, only to round a corner and pull up short as he came face to face with one of the wraiths. It was a different one from the others but had the same, thread-bare edges like wispy smoke fluttering from an amorphous shape. Opaque eyes pierced him down to his soul, filling his veins with a glacial anesthetic. The rest of the world muted, leaving only the sibilant voices calling to him.

"What do you want?" he whispered, breath puffing out in white mist.

The phantom raised an arm and crooked a finger. Lancelot felt the tug deep within his bones, and he followed.

.o.0.o.

Gwen and Arthur walked the castle wall under a moonlit night. They didn't say much, but their silence was more companionable now than awkward. Slowly but surely it felt like they were repairing their relationship.

"Are you cold?" Arthur asked.

Gwen shook her head. Even so, he took off his cloak and draped it across her shoulders. She smiled in response.

"The stars are so beautiful," she commented, tipping her head back to admire the constellations.

"They're alright," Arthur said.

She shot him a mildly affronted glare, but the sly gleam in his eye as his attention remained wholly fixed on her melted it away. Gwen shook her head at him and continued on their stroll.

She squinted as a figure caught her eye up on the turret at the end of the wall. "Is that Lancelot?"

Arthur followed her gaze. "Looks like it."

Gwen felt a pang in her heart every time he was mentioned, for the grief they had all suffered, and she wondered if it would ever go away. At least they were rebuilding their lives, so perhaps there was hope they could all return to what they'd once been.

She frowned at the strange way Lancelot was standing at the wall of the tower, gaze staring out intently at the far horizon cloaked in night. Then he slowly climbed up onto the ledge.

"Arthur!" Gwen seized his arm in horror at what she was seeing, but he immediately broke out of her hold and bolted for the tower. Gwen ran after him, shooting glances up at the turret where Lancelot stood, poised between the parapet and a deadly drop to the lower town far below.

Arthur barged into the stairwell, Gwen right behind him, and they scrambled up the steps to the top. They burst out of the tower just as Lancelot started to lean forward. Arthur grabbed him by the back of his cloak and yanked with all his might, flinging them both back to go crashing on the ground. Gwen threw a hand up to her throat in terror as Arthur pushed himself off of Lancelot, who lay in a dazed stupor beneath him.

"What were you doing?" Arthur demanded.

Lancelot blinked at them both in confusion, then around at the tower, looking lost. "I- I don't know."

Arthur's mouth pressed into a thin line and he reached down to haul Lancelot to his feet.

Lancelot continued to look around uncertainly. His gaze paused on Gwen and he immediately stiffened. "I'm sorry, I should go…"

"Not until we know what just happened," Arthur said sharply. "You nearly threw yourself from the castle wall."

Lancelot's eyes widened in bewilderment and he flicked his gaze to the parapet again. "I…I don't remember coming up here."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Have you been drinking?"

Lancelot shook his head.

Gwen didn't smell any wine or ale on his breath, either. "What's the last thing you do remember?" she prompted.

"I…I was heading for my chambers. I…" He trailed off.

"What?" Arthur pressed.

Lancelot hesitated. "I thought I saw…a ghost."

"A ghost?" Arthur repeated dubiously.

"Yes," he confirmed quietly. "That's the last thing I remember clearly."

Gwen shared an alarmed look with Arthur. The last time spirits had haunted the night, the veil had been torn and Lancelot had sacrificed himself to close it.

"We need to alert the guards," Arthur said, taking a firm hold of Lancelot's arm and steering him away from the wall and toward the stairs.

Gwen followed quickly, pulse pattering in her throat. This couldn't be happening again.

Arthur ordered the first set of guards they passed to double the watch and to summon the knights to the council chamber.

"Shall I get Gaius?" Gwen asked. He was most knowledgeable when it came to matters of magic.

"Yes, thank you," Arthur replied. "But be careful."

Gwen shot him a return look that bid him to do the same, then broke away and headed for Gaius's chambers, sprinting all the way as fear of nightly terrors dogged her heels. She had yet to see any specters for herself but that didn't mean they weren't out there.

She burst into Gaius's chambers as he and Merlin were sitting down to supper. "Gaius! You must come quickly. I think we're under magical attack."

Both Gaius and Merlin surged to their feet.

"What's happened?" Merlin asked urgently.

"Lancelot said he saw a ghost. If the veil has been torn again…"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Gaius interrupted gently. "Did Lancelot describe what he saw?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. Arthur asked me to have you meet them in the council chamber."

"Then we'd best go."

Gwen nodded, mentally chastising herself for getting worked up when they didn't truly know what was happening yet. Gaius was right; they needed information first. Merlin, however, looked just as worried as Gwen felt, whether that was consolation or not.

The three of them made their way through the castle and arrived to the council chamber just as Arthur's most trusted knights did.

"What's the fuss about?" Gwaine griped.

Arthur stood with his arms crossed, brows knitted together. He nodded to Lancelot, who had slumped in one of the chairs, looking pale.

Lancelot straightened marginally. "I…I believe I may have seen a ghost in the castle."

"What did it look like?" Gaius questioned. "Did you recognize them?"

"No. It…it was a woman, I think. Pale, dead eyes. I could almost see through her."

"What did she want?" Elyan asked.

"I don't know."

"You're leaving out the part where Gwen and I spotted you up on the tower ready to jump," Arthur put in.

Everyone's eyes widened in alarm at that.

Lancelot grimaced. "As I said, I don't remember going up there."

"This isn't the same as the spirits released from the veil, is it?" Arthur asked Gaius.

Gaius's mouth was pinched thoughtfully. "I don't believe so, Sire. Those attacked surrounding villages before coming to Camelot. And they didn't have recognizable human forms." He turned to Lancelot. "You saw this spirit in the castle but don't remember going out to the wall?"

Lancelot shook his head. "It's not the first time I've seen one either," he quietly confessed.

"Wait, what?" Arthur straightened.

"I've seen two others," he admitted. "Different ones." He flicked a regretful look at Sir Leon. "Once on the training field. It distracted me."

"When Leon struck you," Elyan elaborated.

Lancelot huffed in annoyance. "Yes."

Gwen simply gaped at him in disbelief. She hadn't heard of that incident.

"Why didn't you say something?" Merlin blurted, sounding hurt.

"Because I didn't want to admit I was going mad." Lancelot ran a hand down his face. "I was the only one seeing them. I thought maybe it was the protective amulet, a side effect or something, so I tried going without it for a day, but I still saw one of the specters."

His hand drifted to his chest and clutched a fistful of his mail, the pendant he spoke of likely sitting underneath. Arthur had told Gwen he'd asked Gaius to find one. He'd shared his doubts over using an enchanted object after enchanted jewelry had wrought so much destruction between them. Gwen had told him an enchantment of protection was different, and she could understand Lancelot's fear of Morgana. She'd told him she thought it was a good idea. Now, though…

"So…" Sir Leon spoke up. "What exactly is going on? Is Camelot under attack?"

"I don't believe so," Gaius answered. "I believe it's more specific than that."

"More specific than ghosts being unleashed upon my kingdom?" Arthur said sardonically.

Gaius's grave expression was fixed on Lancelot. "I suspect that since Lancelot himself has spent time in the spirit world, there might be some kind of lingering connection that is allowing him to see these ghosts."

"Connection?" Lancelot repeated, looking unsettled.

"Since as you said, you seem to be the only one aware of them."

"But he's not just seeing them," Percival spoke up. "Not if one lured him up to the castle wall to kill himself."

Gaius nodded. "I do wonder…since Lancelot was brought back, if the spirit world might not be trying to reclaim him."

A grave silence fell over them at that pronouncement.

Lancelot finally broke it, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees and letting out a weary noise. "So it's finally confirmed: I no longer belong with the living."

"That's not what Gaius said," Merlin countered passionately. "We'll figure something out."

Lancelot looked at him in defeat. "What if you can't?"

His expression pinched. "Don't you dare give up on us."

Lancelot hung his head.

"Merlin's right," Arthur announced. "We need to look for a way to stop this before deciding there's no hope. In the meantime…I don't think you should be left alone. We don't want a repeat of tonight."

Gwen watched Lancelot deflate even more and her heart went out to him. Things had finally started to seem like they were going to be okay again. After all this, were they going to find themselves where they were several months ago—losing a dear friend?

Chapter Text

The four knights from Arthur's inner circle were given shifts so that one of them was with Lancelot at all times, both during waking and sleeping. It grated on his pride, that he should need a keeper to prevent him from accidentally throwing himself from the castle ramparts. And yet he couldn't begrudge them their guardedness, for the prospect of dying terrified him. Not death itself, but the possibility that Morgana could resurrect his soul and bind him to her will again. That was a fate worse than death.

Still, this holding pattern they were supposed to maintain while Gaius and Merlin researched how to solve Lancelot's problem couldn't be kept up forever. The knights couldn't forsake their normal duties in favor of guarding him instead of the king.

"And where are you off to?" Gwaine asked, falling into step beside Lancelot as he strode across the courtyard.

"To patrol, like we were scheduled to do," he replied.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm not going to forsake my duty."

"I think Arthur would give you a pass in this instance."

Lancelot shot him a dark look. "I'm not useless yet, and I will serve until I'm no longer able."

Gwaine just shrugged and accompanied him to the stables to fetch their horses. They headed out with two other knights they didn't normally ride with, now that their Round Table circle had been divided. Because of Lancelot.

The afternoon proceeded as normal with not a single incident. Until the end of their patrol when Lancelot suddenly caught sight of a phantom at the edge of the woods. He pulled back on the reins, startled. The spirit's mouth didn't move but Lancelot could hear the seductive whispers beckoning him to follow. To where he didn't know, and he didn't want to go, but he couldn't break away.

Gwaine grabbed his arm fiercely, snapping him out of it. Lancelot gasped and blinked, and the spirit was gone.

"You still with me, mate?" Gwaine asked.

Lancelot nodded shakily and looked around. The other two knights had kept riding ahead, and he was glad they hadn't stopped to witness his lapse in sanity.

Gwaine waited another moment for Lancelot to steady himself before releasing his arm. "Let's hit the tavern when we get back," he said. "I think you could use a drink. Or three."

Lancelot almost protested; getting drunk wasn't really his idea of fun like it was for Gwaine. But then again, his nerves really were frayed and at this point he probably could use something to take the edge off.

So after they returned to the citadel and dropped their horses off at the stable, Lancelot headed out with Gwaine to the tavern. At first they drank at a subdued pace, but it didn't take long for Gwaine to get boisterous and start carousing with some of the other patrons. He goaded Lancelot into keeping up, and by his third cup, the ale was finally almost numbing the fear he'd been living with since his release from Morgana.

But then the whispers started again. Hisses in his ear that made him whirl in search of the source. But all he could see was a bunch of drunk men laughing and drinking around him. They were loud, and yet everything started sounding as though Lancelot was underwater. Except for the susurrations.

"Lancelot."

"Lancelot."

He staggered from his bench seat, twisting around. Where were they? What did they want? He lurched toward the exit, only for Gwaine to seize his arm and spin him back around.

"Whoa, where're you goin'?"

Lancelot squinted and shook his head, trying to dispel the fog in his mind. Everything was spinning and he started seeing frost climb up the windows…

"What in the blazes are you doing?" someone exclaimed. Sir Leon appeared, taking Lancelot's other arm. "You got him drunk?" he snapped at Gwaine. "What were you thinking?"

Gwaine shrugged, tilting slightly. "I thought it was a good idea at the time."

"Can you hear them?" Lancelot muttered. "I don't understand what they're saying. Why won't they leave me alone?"

Leon and Gwaine exchanged a sobering look at that.

"Don't listen to them," Leon said, giving Lancelot's arm a gentle tug. "Come on, let's get you home."

Leon led him out of the tavern, a drunk Gwaine following, and they staggered through the streets back to the castle. Merlin was in his chambers when they arrived.

"What happened?" he exclaimed, rushing to help Leon guide Lancelot to the bed.

"Gwaine took him to the tavern."

Merlin shot Gwaine a reprimanding glare. "How could you be so careless? You were supposed to be watching him!"

"I was watching him," Gwaine defended. "And I thought a good time would do him some good."

"What if he tripped and impaled himself on his sword?" Leon rejoined.

"Well, that wouldn't be a ghost's doing."

"Okay, that's enough," Merlin interrupted. "I got it from here."

"You sure?" Leon asked.

Merlin nodded. "I'm sure."

Leon went and grabbed Gwaine to usher him from the room. Merlin turned back to Lancelot, standing over him with a pensive expression.

"They won't leave me alone, will they?" Lancelot whispered.

Merlin frowned. "I'll find a way to make them," he promised, then leaned down and whispered a spell. His eyes glowed golden, and Lancelot felt his eyelids sliding closed. The last thing he felt was Merlin tucking him in before he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

.o.0.o.

Lancelot woke to a shard of sunlight peeking through a gap in the curtains and piercing his eyes. He winced and rolled away from it, his head throbbing. Note to self: no more taverns with Gwaine.

He rolled into a sitting position and sat for a moment as his head pulsed painfully. He frowned at the lump on the floor. "Merlin?"

Merlin jerked awake, then quickly sat up. "Morning."

"Did you sleep there all night?"

Merlin stretched, cracking a few vertebrae. "Yes. How are you feeling?"

"My head is killing me, which I have Gwaine to thank for. You shouldn't have slept on the floor, Merlin."

He got up and shrugged. "I've slept in worse places. But what about the other thing? Seeing any ghosts right now?"

Lancelot swept his gaze around the room. "No."

Merlin nodded. "I've been looking for spells that would sever your connection to the spirit world. The only problem is I haven't found one specifically for that, so I'll have to do some trial and error."

Lancelot stiffened at the thought of being an experiment. "Merlin…"

"It's safe," he promised. "I wouldn't put you at risk like that."

Lancelot forced himself to take a calming breath. "Alright." He supposed he didn't really have another option, not when the alternative was to sit back and continue to be plagued by these spirits until one of his friends accidentally let their guard down.

There was a knock on the door that made the pain in Lancelot's head spike, but he called for them to enter. It was Leon, with a plate of food and a cup with steam coming off the top.

"I figured you might be feeling poorly after last night," the knight greeted. "A remedy." He held the cup out.

Lancelot gave the tea a dubious look. "Is this what you give Gwaine?"

"Gwaine can suffer through his hangover," Leon snorted. "He knows better."

Lancelot threw a questioning look at Merlin, who was smirking. With a resigned shrug, he took a swig. It tasted disgusting.

Leon handed him a piece of cheese to chase it down with. Lancelot wasn't that hungry, but he forced himself to chew and swallow, if only to make the tea more palatable.

"I'd better get going," Merlin said. "Before Arthur wakes up." He made a hasty exit.

Lancelot finished his breakfast and then he and Leon headed out for the day.

"Normally we'd be doing some training right now," Leon remarked. "But I wonder if that's really a good idea considering what happened last time."

Lancelot winced at the reminder. A wisp like smoke caught his attention, followed by milky white eyes staring out at him from across the courtyard. "Yeah, probably not," he murmured, a chill running through his blood. He wrenched his gaze away.

Leon frowned and lowered his voice. "Do you see something?"

Lancelot grimaced, unable to help flicking his gaze back across the yard. To his relief, the phantom was gone. "Not anymore."

Leon's expression turned serious. "I think you're incredibly brave for everything you've been through," he said.

Lancelot started, then looked away self-consciously at the inaccurate assessment.

"Why do you keep doubting yourself?"

"There is the little matter of being a shade of Morgana's and betraying you all," he pointed out bitterly.

"We all know that wasn't you."

"You can't understand. It may not have been me consciously, but I can remember every single, horrible moment of being under her control. I see the betrayal through my own eyes. I see Arthur's devastation." Lancelot looked away again. "She used me to destroy them. And I have to carry that for the rest of my days."

Leon was quiet for a moment. "Not that I think you need it, but if it helps, I forgive you. So does Arthur."

Lancelot looked back at him and found himself actually touched by the offering. He inclined his head in acceptance. Maybe it didn't erase what happened, but maybe it could allow him to move on.

If only the spirit world would let him.

That night, Merlin came to camp out in his chambers again. Lancelot tried to convince him he shouldn't, but Merlin wouldn't hear a word of it.

"See any spirits today?" he asked, changing the subject.

Lancelot sighed. "Yes. Sorry."

Merlin pursed his mouth. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I just have to keep trying until I find the right spell."

He stepped closer and raised his hand as though to cast another one, and Lancelot abruptly pulled back.

"Um, Merlin…have you considered that a mortal could be exposed to too much magic?"

Merlin quirked a confused brow. "Too much magic?"

Lancelot rolled his shoulder in discomfort. "There was the veil, and then Morgana, and you freeing me—which I am immensely grateful for—but what if it's all just more than a non-magical being should be subjected to?"

Merlin frowned in thought. "I don't think it works that way. Magic is a natural part of the world and is all around us. It wouldn't make sense for it to poison anyone unless someone used it that way for evil." He faltered. "Do you fear my magic now?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," Lancelot immediately replied. "I'm just…stressed by everything that's going on." He softened his expression. "I know what your magic feels like, Merlin. It's warm and kind and I have never felt threatened from it."

Merlin looked relieved, and with a tentative, questioning look, stepped forward to cast his spell.

Lancelot hadn't been lying about the warmth that washed over him from his friend's gift. It was one of the few things that could temporarily banish the ever-present chill in his body.

Unfortunately, it just didn't last.

Lancelot woke in the dead of night to darkness. The fire in the fireplace had gone out. He sat up in bed, his breath misting in the air. Merlin was still asleep on the floor, and Lancelot hesitated at waking him to kindle the fire with his magic. He could just try to stoke it himself.

But before he could move, a reflection of a spirit wavered in the glass pane of his window. He stiffened, clutching fistfuls of his sheets. Those dead eyes captured his in their gaze and he couldn't do anything to resist. Every sense was sucked into a vortex until all he could do was stare numbly back, entranced.

Then suddenly he was being yanked forcefully, and Lancelot found he'd somehow gotten out of bed and had opened the window. Merlin was wrestling him away from it. The shock of snapping back to awareness broke the trance and he fell backward, taking both him and Merlin to the floor.

"Lancelot!" Merlin gripped his shoulders hard and shook him. "Lancelot!"

"I'm here," he gasped. He shakily pushed himself upright to slump against the bed.

Merlin collapsed beside him, breathing heavily, the window hanging open across from them and the chilly night air wafting in. "Okay," he breathed. "That was…bracing."

Lancelot closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. "I'm sorry."

"This isn't your fault," Merlin said staunchly.

"How long am I expected to go on like this?" he asked quietly, the weight of defeat settling heavily across his shoulders.

Merlin shifted onto his knees to face him. "I will find something," he promised. "You just have to keep fighting until I do."

Lancelot didn't want to deny his friend this, but the truth was he didn't know if he had such a fight left in him.

.o.0.o.

Lancelot sat on a bale of hay out behind the stables, staring morosely at the ground. Percival sat beside him, on suicide watch, though they'd chosen a place where there weren't many opportunities for Lancelot to abruptly try to hurt himself. The sun was bearing down on them and Percival was sweating, but Lancelot still had the occasional shiver.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Percival spoke up.

Lancelot blinked and looked over. "Yes. Hard to forget falling into an animal pit and ending up trapped with a complete stranger at the bottom."

Percival smirked. "It was cold, rainy, the sides were too slick to climb up, and my knee was too swollen to even stand." He paused. "Things looked pretty bleak then. But we made it out, because we worked together."

Lancelot gave him a wan but fond smile. "I know my friends stand beside me," he said.

He just wondered if it would be enough against a force none of them could see or fight.

Gwen brought him lunch that day, claiming Merlin was called away on some errand so she was there to take a shift instead.

"You shouldn't," Lancelot protested. Seeing her, talking to her, just brought him immeasurable shame and pain.

Gwen leveled a sober look at him. "You're my friend and this is happening to you. I'm not going to sit by and do nothing."

"Things between you and Arthur are finally good again," he pressed.

"Yes, they are, and Arthur trusts me. He trusts us both."

Lancelot had wanted nothing more than to regain Arthur's faith. But receiving it only made him more afraid of betraying it again.

And to make matters worse, he started seeing specters everywhere he turned, ghosts flitting in and out of the corner of his eye, there one second and vanished the next. There was no escape.

A hushed voice slithered past his ear, hissing his name, and he finally whipped his sword out in a desperate attempt to fight them off. Then in the space of an eye blink, the phantom was gone and Elyan was standing before him, arms raised and palms out.

"Lancelot, please, put the sword down."

He sucked in a ragged gasp, blinking rapidly to clear the last remnants of fog. He was in one of the castle corridors. Servants clustered together, staring at him, and shame flooded his heart at the spectacle he was making. He lowered his sword, the tip clanging on the stone floor like a death knell. He couldn't keep going like this. How long would it be before he was gradually driven mad and they had to lock him up and throw away the key?

He thought dying and coming back as a twisted form of himself would be the worst fate that could befall him.

Apparently he was wrong.

.o.0.o.

Merlin stood in the clearing under the night sky, waiting for Kilgharrah to answer his call. A gust of wind preceded the dragon's landing.

"How may I be of service tonight, young warlock?"

"I freed Lancelot from Morgana," he started with. "But now he's connected to the spirit world and the ghosts are trying to pull him back, and none of my magic attempts to stop it have worked." His throat constricted. "I'm afraid I'm losing him again."

The dragon cocked his head. "Hm. Lancelot may have been freed from the witch's magic, but it did not make him whole again."

Merlin frowned. "What do you mean? I freed his soul. He's alive and himself!"

"Alive, but he bears wounds to the spirit, which are difficult to heal," Kilgharrah replied. "They leave him vulnerable to the ties from the dead that cling to those gaps in his soul."

Merlin's heart dropped into his stomach. "Gaps in his soul?"

Memory of Lancelot's soul bound in thorns came back to him. Merlin had been so focused on Lancelot's physical recovery he hadn't even thought there would be something deeper that needed mending.

He shook his head in desperation. "But I've cast several healing spells recently and they haven't done anything."

"As I said, such wounds are not easy to heal. Nigh impossible, even, given how dark the witch's magic was that brought him here in the first place."

Merlin clenched his fists, hot moisture pricking at his eyes. "No. I refuse to accept that. Not after everything."

Kilgharrah looked thoughtful. "Then your only course is to take the noble knight to the Lake of Avalon to be healed by the Sidhe."

Merlin let out a shaky breath. "They can heal wounds to the soul?"

Kilgharrah inclined his head. "If they are willing."

Merlin nodded. He would beg, bargain, or do whatever it took to convince them to save Lancelot.

He returned swiftly to the castle, anxious to get back to Lancelot and tell him this new plan. He'd left Elyan with him while he was out, and so he was surprised when he burst into Lancelot's chambers and found Gwen and Arthur there also. Gwen was sitting in a chair by the bed where Lancelot lay, moaning and twitching in his sleep. Arthur and Elyan stood a little further apart, looking grim.

"What happened?" Merlin asked urgently.

"He collapsed," Elyan replied. "I don't know if he saw another ghost or it's just exhaustion."

"He's so cold," Gwen murmured, clasping Lancelot's hand.

Merlin's heart lurched. "I think I know a way to save him," he blurted.

Arthur straightened. "How?"

"The Lake of Avalon," he replied, wracking his brain for a way to explain where he'd gotten the information. "The Sidhe possess the power to mend the rents in his soul that the spirits are connected to."

Arthur quirked a brow. "The Sidhe? Why would they help?"

"We have to at least try," Merlin pressed, throwing a harried look at Lancelot's distressed form. "I'll take him."

Arthur's mouth thinned in consideration, and he looked at Gwen.

"He's slipping," she said in response to his unasked question.

Arthur nodded at that. "Elyan, tell the others. We leave at first light."

Elyan bowed and left the room.

Merlin faltered at the idea that they would all be going. "Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

Arthur nodded, gaze on his knight. "I don't want to lose him again either."

Chapter Text

Lancelot shifted in the saddle, feeling awkward as the rest of the Round Table knights finished getting ready for departure. It didn't seem right that they should be taking on this quest for his sake alone. Their duty was to Arthur and the kingdom. He'd wanted to protest their escort, especially Arthur's—he was the King. But Merlin had shot him a warning look as though he knew what Lancelot was thinking and so he'd held his tongue.

Everyone had mounted up and Arthur signaled for them to head out. By unspoken arrangement, Lancelot ended up riding in the center of their group, probably so they could keep a close eye on him. He truly didn't know what to do with the loyalty and protectiveness they all had shown him these past few days. He still didn't feel as though he deserved it, but the gestures were more or less chipping away at his doubts and tempting him to believe that this brotherhood was still his, that he still belonged here.

Unless the world of the dead reclaimed him. Lancelot didn't want to get his hopes up with Merlin's latest plan. If it didn't work…then they'd have to start discussing other, more permanent, courses of action.

Lancelot had gotten so used to being on guard for ghosts that he forgot about the more mundane dangers until their group was suddenly beset by bandits. A horde of them spilled forth from the trees while others took up position at the top of a small escarpment to the right to fire crossbow bolts down at their targets. Lancelot figured Merlin would take care of those as he and the other knights dismounted and drew their swords. Their horses scattered, freeing up space to engage the assailants.

It had been weeks since Lancelot had engaged in a real fight, but adrenaline and muscle memory worked wonders, especially with the added urgency of protecting his fellow knights' backs. The discordant screech of steel rang out through the woods along with pained cries as men were felled. Out of the corner of his eye, Lancelot saw an errant tree branch take out one of the archers above.

He cut down his first opponent and immediately spun to face the next, the ebb of battle carrying him a little ways from the others. Ducking a swipe at his head, he followed through with a thrust to his attacker's abdomen, and the man toppled to the side with a dying grunt.

Lancelot turned to check on his friends, only to find himself face to face with his worst nightmare. Morgana stepped around the edge of the scarp, eyes alight as she skewered Lancelot with a sultry look.

"No," he breathed. She wasn't real; she couldn't be.

He raised his sword but her eyes flashed gold and an invisible force slammed him back against the rock face, punching the oxygen from his lungs. His arm shook, unable to lift his sword against her magic.

"Well, well, well," she crooned, stepping closer. "What a fortuitous fate has led our paths to cross again."

A bandit charged them out of nowhere, but a hiss from Morgana and he went flying through to the air to crash against a tree, his spine audibly snapping. She turned her attention back to Lancelot, closing the distance between them and reaching up to caress his cheek.

"Don't," he gritted out, still unable to move. His heart thundered against his rib cage.

"Now is that any way to speak to the woman who gave you life again?" she tutted. She pursed her mouth in a simpering moue. "Oh, my dear knight, I can feel your suffering."

Her fingers traced down to his jawline and his pulse jumped. Then her hand drifted further down and snagged the chain around his neck, pulling the protective amulet out from under his shirt.

Morgana smirked. "This is cute." She yanked it off and tossed it away.

Lancelot's heart lurched with terror. No…

Morgana's face twisted with malicious glee as though she could sense his fear and relished in it. "I can take all that pain away," she whispered seductively.

His chest hitched. Not this, anything but this.

Morgana's touch burned his skin, and the echoes of the dead amplified around him.

His lungs screamed for air.

.o.0.o.

Merlin pressed himself against a tree trying to stay unobtrusive as the battle waged around him. Whispering a spell under his breath, he took out the last shooter at the top of the scarp with a falling tree branch. He whipped his gaze back down to the main fight. The knights were holding their own, of course, but he didn't see Lancelot…

Merlin's heart seized when he caught sight of Morgana several yards away—with his friend. No. How was she even here?

He pushed away from the tree, only to be distracted by a bandit coming at him. But Elyan jumped in and crossed blades with the ruffian. Merlin whirled back to Morgana and Lancelot just as Lancelot moved away from her and came sprinting back toward them…toward Arthur. Lancelot raised his sword, and Merlin's world froze in a shock of horror.

Arthur was battling two bandits and couldn't see the third threat coming at him. Merlin's breath caught in his throat, paralyzed with indecision over using his magic against his best friend.

But then Lancelot swooped in and blocked a bandit's blow aimed at Arthur's exposed side. Instead of turning his own blade against his king, Lancelot fought off the second attacker, freeing Arthur up to slay the first.

Merlin snatched up a dropped sword and darted in, swinging clumsily at another thug that came at them until he was at Lancelot's side. Lancelot was frightfully pale and breathing raggedly.

"You're still you," Merlin gasped.

Lancelot gave a jerky nod and spun around Merlin to cut down another foe.

The last of the bandits were finally dispatched, and everyone faltered in dismay when they noticed Morgana. A few of them automatically took a step closer to Lancelot.

Morgana sneered at them disdainfully. "How touching, you all rallying around the knight who betrayed you."

"That wasn't Lancelot," Merlin couldn't help but lob back angrily. "That was you. And your plan failed."

She shrugged. "Maybe, though you have to ask yourselves: can you be sure it was all magic? It only worked because part of them truly wanted it, deep down—"

"Enough," Arthur snapped. "I know the games you like to play, Morgana; I won't listen to any more of this."

Her lip curled up at him. Merlin's breath quickened. They stood no chance against her magic, and if he was forced to reveal himself—to them and her—in order to protect his friends…he didn't know what would happen then.

"My offer still stands, Lancelot," she called out pleasantly. "The spirit world will consume you eventually. I can prevent that from happening."

Lancelot lifted his chin. "I would rather die."

Her expression hardened. "And you will." Her eyes flashed gold, and with a flick of her wrist, a dagger went flying through the air.

Merlin tensed, ready to knock it away from Lancelot with his magic.

But it hadn't been aiming for the noble knight. While everyone's attention was on Lancelot and Morgana, Lancelot was the only one who realized the witch's true intent—he threw himself in front of Arthur, the dagger striking him after all.

Lancelot fell back against Arthur with a gasp, taking them both to the ground.

"No!" Merlin yelled.

Morgana's shoulders heaved with rage, and she spun around, dashing off into the woods. The other knights started after her.

"No!" Arthur commanded. "Leave her." He shifted out from under Lancelot so he was bracing the injured knight in his arms.

Merlin rushed over and dropped down beside them. "No, no, no," he breathed frantically, hands hovering over the dagger buried hilt deep in Lancelot's belly. A mortal wound.

Lancelot let out a shaky laugh. "At least I know Morgana can't reclaim my soul on a whim." He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I can die…ever loyal to you…my king." Lancelot said, grasping weakly at Arthur's sleeve.

"Don't speak," Arthur said sharply.

"We need to get him back to Camelot," Sir Leon said.

"No," Merlin blurted. "Camelot is further away. We should keep going to the lake."

"He needs a physician," Leon argued.

Merlin clenched his fists. "Gaius won't be able to do anything. The Sidhe can heal all wounds, spiritual and physical. It's Lancelot's only chance." He threw a beseeching look at Arthur.

Arthur glanced down at Lancelot who was fading quickly, then up at his knights. "We keep going," he declared.

"He can't ride with that dagger in him," Gwaine pointed out.

Merlin grimaced at what he'd have to do. "I need bandages."

Arthur nodded to Gwaine and Elyan. "Get the horses." He looked at Leon and Percival. "Stay alert."

Merlin threw a look over his shoulder. Morgana could return at any moment. Frankly, he didn't know why she'd left, except she took perverted pleasure in mentally torturing Arthur, and having to watch Lancelot die would certainly qualify. Besides, her ultimate goals rested on the throne of Camelot.

Gwaine and Elyan returned with the horses and Gwaine fished out some bandages to hand to Merlin. A pit opened up in Merlin's stomach at what came next. Lancelot was barely conscious at this point, but Merlin still hated it when he gripped the hilt and yanked the blade out. Lancelot jerked and cried out.

"Sorry, sorry," Merlin gushed as he hastily pulled up the mail shirt and packed the jagged wound with bandages to staunch the blood flow.

"How bad is it?" Arthur asked quietly from where he still had Lancelot slumped against his chest.

Merlin swallowed hard. "Bad. We have to hurry."

Arthur nodded and waved Percival over to get Lancelot up. But first he bent over his knight and whispered, "Hold on, Lancelot. Your King still has need of your service."

Percival crouched down and lifted Lancelot into his arms.

Merlin scrambled to his feet. "I'll take him on my horse."

"You can barely carry yourself on a good day, Merlin," Arthur said, though the jibe held none of its usual humor.

"You all need to be ready to fight with Morgana still out there," he insisted.

Arthur relented at that and helped Percival get an unconscious Lancelot up onto Merlin's horse. Merlin climbed up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him from falling off. Percival handed Merlin the reins.

As the others went to mount their steeds, Merlin leaned close and whispered a healing spell over Lancelot's shoulder. It wasn't powerful enough for a wound this grave, but hopefully it would sustain him until they reached the lake.

"Hold on," Merlin begged as they set off at a hurried pace.

The rest of the journey was fraught with tension and urgency as they raced against time with the threat of Morgana on their heels. But she didn't return to thwart them. It probably hadn't occurred to her they were attempting this, and without Agravaine at the castle to feed her information, she had no way of knowing their destination.

Lancelot was limp and cold in Merlin's arms. He'd been cold before, but now Merlin worried his wound would open the link to the spirit world that much more. He was almost as pale as the dead, the bandages damp from blood soaking through. If the whispers of ghosts were plaguing him in his unconscious state, Merlin had no way of knowing, for he was too still, breaths coming more shallow and skin clammy. They were almost out of time.

The Lake of Avalon glistened before them, tranquil waters rippling with golden inlay under the sun. They drew their horses to a stop at the shore and Percival came over to take Lancelot from Merlin.

"What now?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin pressed his mouth into a thin line. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now that he was here.

He strode toward the water's edge. "Percival," he called over his shoulder.

The large knight started after him, bearing Lancelot in his arms.

Merlin stepped into the lake. The water slapped around his boots and spilled over the cuffs. He kept going. Percival didn't even question and simply followed while the others exchanged uncertain looks where they remained on the shore. Hope held them all suspended with bated breath.

Merlin waded in until he was waist deep and then stopped. Uttering words of magic under his breath, he sent his call out over the lake.

Percival came up beside him, the water lapping over Lancelot's chest and under his chin. His lips were parted and skin tinged a sickly grey. Merlin's heart clenched and he silently pleaded for the Sidhe to hear him and respond.

The space ahead of them began to bubble. Percival shifted, casting a wary look at Merlin. Merlin held his ground, bracing himself as a figure began to rise from the waves. His jaw went slack when he saw who it was.

"Freya," he gasped.

She looked radiant, dressed in a white gown and droplets of water clinging to her hair like diamonds. Her smile was as dazzling as the sun.

"Hello, Merlin."

Percival leaned over. "You two know each other?"

Merlin hesitated. "Uh, long story."

"Do not be afraid, Sir Percival," Freya said. "I know why you've come." She glided toward them through the water, stopping right in front of Percival and resting one hand over Lancelot's brow, the other over his heart. Her expression pinched with sadness. "He has been gravely wounded. Both in body and soul."

"Can you heal him?" Merlin asked desperately.

She smiled softly at him. "Yes."

Looking back at Lancelot, she moved one hand from his heart to his wound, and the water began to glow with a soft blue luminescence. It flowed over Lancelot, accumulating around his stomach first and increasing in intensity. Then Freya moved her hand back up to his heart and the light followed, tendrils of magic spreading across his body until it encompassed him in a blazing, pure sphere. Percival had to turn his head aside and squeeze his eyes shut against the glare, but Merlin watched even as it almost blinded him.

After several moments, the light finally receded, dimming down to silver squiggles that rippled over Lancelot and back into the water. Merlin held his breath.

Then Lancelot's eyes slowly slid open and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Percival?" he queried. "What's going on?"

"You've been healed," Freya answered.

Lancelot lolled his head toward her, then started trying to sit up. Percival eased him up into standing on his own two feet as the water lapped around them but kept a preemptive grip on one arm.

Lancelot looked around at where they were. "Is this the lake?" he asked.

"The Lake of Avalon," Freya replied and reached out to cup Lancelot's cheek. "Dear Lancelot, the most noble knight that ever lived." She leaned close and whispered, "No more fear."

Lancelot blinked dazedly as she stepped back and turned to give Merlin a rueful smile.

"Goodbye, Merlin."

Tears pricked at his eyes. "Goodbye, Freya. Thank you."

She smiled again, and then turned to walk back under the surface and disappear.

Merlin, Percival, and Lancelot turned around and started wading out of the lake. The others rushed toward the shoreline to meet them, looking Lancelot over with worry and barely constrained hopefulness.

"Lancelot," Elyan spoke first. "How do you feel?"

Lancelot blinked, still looking dazed. "I…" He turned his face up toward the sky and his face broke into a smile, fully and brightly for the first time since his resurrection. "I can feel the sun," he breathed in wonder.

Merlin's heart was fit to burst.

"And your wound?" Arthur asked reservedly.

Lancelot looked down and ghosted a hand over his stomach. "It's healed too."

Arthur regarded him for another beat before nodding in elation and stepping forward to pull him into a fierce embrace. Everyone broke into grins and delighted laughter at that and took their turns hugging their friend and clapping him on the back.

Lancelot turned to Merlin last and stepped in to give him an earnest hug. "Thank you," he whispered fervently in Merlin's ear.

Merlin pulled back to look him in the eye, beaming madly with joy. "Welcome back. Fully this time."

.o.0.o.

Their return journey to Camelot was so full of relief and rejoicing that they forgot Morgana was lurking somewhere in the woods, but it didn't matter because she didn't show herself again. Undoubtedly she would learn of their victory and her defeat eventually, but for now all that mattered was that Lancelot had been fully restored to them.

Of course Merlin wanted to be extra cautious and kept close to him for the next few days, just to make sure he wouldn't be seeing any more spirits. Lancelot just laughed and shook his head fondly without offering much complaint. Merlin was so overjoyed to see Lancelot's smiles reaching his eyes again that it almost hurt, knowing how much he had suffered recently. But his soul was healed now and safe from the spirit world and Morgana.

As safe as any of them were with her still plotting, anyway.

Gwen hugged him upon his return and he immediately took a knee and reaffirmed his pledge to serve King Arthur and Guinevere his future queen. The love he bore for Gwen was still there, but in the same way that he loved Arthur, and everyone knew the purity of his heart.

There would be more battles to come, but Merlin was confident in their being able to withstand them.