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Merlin had been thrilled when Lancelot returned to Camelot for good. He had missed him more than he could ever say, and things were immediately so much better with him around. Merlin had been so lonely for so long, having to hide the most intrinsic part of himself from everyone he knew, but he didn’t have to do that with Lancelot. He could trust and confide in him, knowing he would never dream of telling anyone his secret.
It was only natural that Lancelot began helping him with magic-related things, accompanying him on secret missions to protect Camelot. It was so much easier — and, he had to admit, fun — with Lancelot there to ensure he no longer had continue doing things on his own the way he had for all the years prior.
What he hadn’t prepared for was the possibility that Lancelot might get hurt. It had happened so fast that Merlin realize until it was too late, but then he turned around and saw Lancelot on the ground and heaving in pain. He had immediately brought him to Gaius, panicking an in tears, and it took quite a bit of effort on Gaius’ part to calm him down enough for him to explain what had happened.
He was told Lancelot would survive with treatment, much to his great relief, but he couldn’t help but think that Lancelot wouldn’t have even been in this situation if it hadn’t been for in. He was always so happy to be including him in his shenanigans that he hadn’t stopped to consider how dangerous it was.
Until he was forced to consider it, now that Lancelot was lying in the cot in Gaius’ chambers, trying to recover from an injury that very nearly could’ve been fatal.
“Merlin,” Lancelot said, watching Merlin as he paced across the room. “Merlin, you need to calm down.”
Merlin paused his pacing but he remained fidgeting, unable to keep still. He was silent for a long moment as he stared down at his boots, biting his lip like he was trying to hold himself back from speaking. He scuffed his foot against the floor, not willing to say the thought that kept going through his head.
“It was my fault,” he finally blurted out, unable to keep it in any longer. His voice quiet but it was clearly heard in the otherwise silent room.
“Merlin,” Lancelot said again, this time with more force. “Look at me.”
He did, looking at Lancelot with a guilt-ridden expression, and Lancelot extended his arm. Merlin tentatively stepped closer and took his hand, holding it tightly like he couldn’t bear to let go.
“I’m sorry,” he said, aware Lancelot was going to object but needing to say it anyway. He knew Lancelot would never hold something like this against him, but that didn’t stop him from being overwrought with guilt at the knowledge that this had been because of him.
“I’m okay,” Lancelot reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze as if to remind him that he was there with him. It did help, but he was only reminded of what had almost been taken away from him.
“But you nearly weren’t! You could’ve… you could’ve…” he trailed off, unable to say it.
“But I didn’t. I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere,” Lancelot said, but Merlin shook his head as his eyes began watering. Lancelot reached up with his free hand to wipe the tears away and Merlin leaned into his touch, memorizing the feeling in case he would only be left with the memory of it one day.
“If I ever lost you,” Merlin murmured, “I don’t know what I’d do… I don’t think I could continue on.”
He knew it was selfish, but Lancelot was the only person who truly knew him, who he didn’t have to hide anything from. And not only that, but he loved him; he didn’t think he could take the heartbreak if something worse were to ever happen to Lancelot.
“You won’t,” Lancelot told him, so sure of himself that it sounded like a promise.
“You can’t know that,” Merlin said, because as much as he wanted it to be true, he had learned the hard way that this was something he couldn’t control.
“Our paths crossed for a reason. I can’t imagine we’d lose each other so easily.”
When he said it like that, Merlin couldn’t help but believe him. He desperately wished it was true, that he and Lancelot’s destinies would always be intertwined.
“Lancelot…” he began, not sure how to communicate what he wanted to. He was never good with this kind of thing, no matter how hard he tried.
“You have to to know it’s not your fault,” Lancelot continued, gently running his thumb across Merlin’s knuckles. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was an accident, that’s all; we’ll be more careful next time.”
Merlin let out a shaky breath but he nodded, even if he was still fearful of what might happen in the future. He might have magic, but he couldn’t always protect Lancelot, not when the knight was so intent on protecting him. He wished he could wrap Lancelot up in a bubble of magic, just to make sure he would always remain unharmed. What was the point of his point of his powers, what was the point of him, if he couldn’t use it to keep those he loved safe?
Lancelot slid over a bit so there was space next to him and gestured for Merlin to lay down. Merlin did so and immediately wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on his chest and letting the sound of Lancelot’s heartbeat — the reminder that he was here and alive and breathing — soothe him.
Lancelot leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. Merlin looked up at him and gave him a small smile. He might not be able to always ensure Lancelot’s safety, but he could appreciate the time they had together now.