Merlyn's Only Hope

Lancelot P3

Lancelot had already returned when Merlyn arrived at her chambers, passed out over her bed. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, amazed that such an honourable, courageous knight could be reduced to such an unruly mess. Almost as soon as she collapsed on the floor next to her bed, shrouded by blankets, she joined him in a sweet slumber.

∆

"Two yards of ale? Two miles more like it." Lancelot groaned the next morning, clutching his head in agony.

After managing to slither down the few steps that led to Merlyn's room, Gaius gave both of them a delightful hangover cure. The witch was fairly sure that he intentionally made it taste like a mixture of raw egg and frogs brains, but she couldn't prove it. It was clear that he found the hungover pair rather amusing, laughing at their faces as they downed the supposed remedy. For once, surprisingly, everything seemed to have gone the way it had been planned. Lancelot was a knight and had everything he deserved without anybody else being accused of sorcery or treason.

Just as the thought crossed Merlyn's mind, two guards burst through the door, grabbing Lancelot by the arms.

"What do you think you're doing?" Gaius cried, alarmed by the sudden intrusion.

"King's orders." one of the guards sneered, causing Gaius and Merlyn to exchange a look of disconcerted terror. That didn't sound good.

"Stop!" Merlyn tried, wishing she had some kind of authority, but could do little more than chase after them, her heart beating faster in her chest. She couldn't let Lancelot fail.

∆

"These credentials are fake." Geoffrey spoke decisively. Lancelot winced, knowing he had no hope. He'd been found out; his one shot at his dream was gone.

"The seal itself is faultless, forgery of the highest possible standard, but a forgery they must be." Geoffrey finished, eying Lancelot with deep suspicion. Arthur, for once in his life, was gutted to be proved right; he could only pray that Merlyn, who he had no doubt had known, kept quiet. He'd lost a brave knight, he wasn't sure if he could take losing his servant too.

"Do you deny it?" his father was smug, he hated it.

"I do not, sire." Lancelot bowed his head, ready to accept his fate. Arthur cursed under his breath: Lancelot, despite his lies, was too noble for his own good. This wasn't what he needed.

"You've broken the first code of Camelot. You've brought shame upon this kingdom and upon yourself. You aren't worthy of the knighthood bestowed upon you. You never were and you never will be. Get him out of my sight." Uther spat, walking back to his throne in an act of regal finality.

Arthur wanted to scream until his problems vanished in a haze of sound. There was a moment where he debated it, wondering if his father, out of sheer embarrassement, might let Lancelot keep his knighthood. He didn't know why, but there was something about the stranger, something that gave him hope for the future, that the line between nobles and commoners could be blurred. He knew why he wanted it, why he clung desperately to the notion that, one day, people could be who they wanted without fear of status.

But he had to believe it had nothing to do with the sad servant leaning against a column on the opposite side of the room. His motivations had to be for the betterment of his kingdom, not the whims of his heart.

As the council filtered out, he knew he had to say something.

"Sire." he tried as his father walked away, evidently not in the mood to listen to anything more than praise.

"Do you contest my judgement?" Uther carried on walking, as if Arthur would just melt away if he moved quickly enough.

The prince nodded slowly. "His deception was inexcusable, but he meant no harm. His only wish was to serve, I am sure of it."