I’m rewatching Merlin again and I just love how Lancelot seems sensible but is actually bat shit insane.
He’s got his morals, obviously, but he’s also just as chaotic as Gwaine and Merlin in his own way.
Like, a day after meeting Merlin he committed identity fraud.
Then he found out Merlin had magic and immediately decided keeping it secret would be more fun than turning him over, which would’ve gotten him the knighthood that he’d been dreaming of his entire life. Really love that he’s not a class traitor there.
Then he rode off into the sunset, cape billowing like a dramatic ass theatre kid turned DnD player with a leaf blower (talking from experience on that one)
Then he joined a fight club
Was fully prepared to sacrifice himself for Gwen with a hero’s death
Then left for some personal growth, which was fair enough but I’m kinda disappointed we didn’t get to see more of his character development. That’s what headcanons and fics are for though.
But then in Camelot, after getting his knighthood, he constantly encouraged Merlin to use his magic - with his “I’m sure a man of your talents can think of something” like they weren’t in a busy hallway where anyone could’ve seen - and casually fell in love with seeing magic used freely. The look in his eyes whenever he sees Merlin using magic is just soft, I don’t know how else to explain it. (Take that in whatever context you want it, I’m a sucker for Mercelot but romantic or platonic doesn’t matter to me.)
And THEN! Merlin survived the Dorocha and he tried to prank the king, someone secretly but not so secretly in love with Merlin, with his “Bad news, he survived.” Thing.
There’s definitely more, but I just love how chaotic Lance is and how much he got away with because his reputation as the noblest knight gave him a lot of freedom to do dumb stuff and then bat his eyes all pretty to get out of trouble.
One of the favorite things I discovered about Lancelot and Merlin's friendship in the books is that Lancelot went along with the whole ‘forged documents’ situation not out of ambition to be a knight or prove himself, but because he knew Merlin was trying to help him and he didn't want to hurt Merlin's feelings by refusing.
Lancelot did it, quite simply, to make Merlin happy.
Even with Lancelots noble heart and deep respect for the knights’ code, he was willing to cross a line—not for his chance to fulfill his life s ambition, but for his newfound friend’s honor.
WAIT ive just had a Thought. AU where, when they are coming up with a noble alias for Lancelot to use so he can become a knight, they end up stumbling upon Gwaine's family crest/history whatever (yeah i know he's technically from another kingdom so this doesn't totally work, just ignore that for a sec). And they're like, "hey, the son of this one knight mysteriously vanished and no one has heard from him in years, he probably won't mind if we steal his identity". So now Lancelot is going by the name Gwaine, and everyone totally buys it, which means Lancelot gets to stay in Camelot and join Arthur and Merlin on all their adventures.
That is, until season 3, when they meet the real Gwaine. Lancelot panics, bc if there are two Gwaines running around then people will figure out what he did and he'll lose his knighthood. Luckily, Gwaine has a brilliant solution: give him Lancelot's name. So now everyone calls Lancelot "Gwaine" and they call Gwaine "Lancelot", and Gwaine and Merlin are absolutely thriving amidst all this chaos, and Lancelot is very, very confused.
How he did it silently and without any kind of fanfare. How there were no meaningful last words to anyone, how he waits til Merlin’s distracted and just slips away, how his silence is his last gift to him.
How he never protests when Merlin says he’s going to sacrifice himself, never says a word because he knows Merlin will never suspect him. How even after all they’ve been through together Merlin still doesn’t believe he could merit such a sacrifice from anyone. Doesn’t believe he’s worth it and so the thought doesn’t even cross his mind.
And that’s how Lancelot tricks him and betrays him, and leaves him there
Like shit, maybe this IS the deciding moment where Merlin realises that Gwaine isn’t going to he like Lance. I never figured out why there was more distance between these two but now I see how Gwaine never proved Merlin’s initial mistrust wrong???????
@sneakyboymerlin Exactly! Like Gwaine express his dislike of magic multiple times in front of Merlin. Merlin has every right to fear Gwaines reaction and has absolutely no reason to trust him with his magic. And if you hear one bad thing said about what you innately are, about something you can’t control; it hurts and you make a mental note of it and you file it away under people that would hate me if they knew.
really we deserved gwaine knowing about merlin's magic because him and lancelot lowkey having squabbles about who gets to go with merlin on illegal magic fieldtrips would be so funny
merlin mentions needing to kill some magical creature, so lancelot shows up at their usual meeting point just to find gwaine waiting there, too
excuse you?? lancelot has been doing well-intended treason for a year now? this is kind of his thing??? HE is the treason buddy??
Sudden, sinking dread fills Lancelot as he feels his necklace tearing like a heartstring.
The necklace was one of a pair. The others didn't question it, as they didn't question Gwaine's attachment to his own amulet (Merlin hid a knowing look, but Lancelot saw that one) and didn't question Arthur's own on-and-off relationship with his red one. If anyone noticed the same necklace on Merlin in the rare moments it wasn't hidden by his neckerchief, Lancelot didn’t mind the wagging eyebrows and knowing smirks sent his way, playing into them with an honest blush rising to his cheeks. They knew nothing.
It was one of a pair, the tiniest bit of magic Merlin had allowed into the open: if one were torn, the other would break too.
Merlin gave it to him a few months back, when Lancelot was about to venture on a border patrol where the warlock couldn't follow him. Lancelot let Merlin tie the string around his neck, then helped him with his own. He gave his word to tear it off if he were ever in danger, to let Merlin find him with the magic of the land. He never took it off, treasuring the gift, feeling safe and cared for with the amulet close to his heart.
It was always more for Lancelot's sake than for Merlin's: Merlin had once told him that he had his own way of escaping mortal peril, and Lancelot let these words calm him, even if his friend skirted around the details. (There was a lot he hid in the guilty cast of his eyes, and Lancelot saw that. He didn't press.)
Still, they've never had to use it. Until it tears on Lancelot's neck just a day away from Camelot.
Lancelot slows down his horse, chilled hands tearing unconsciously into the reins, as his brothers-in-arms gallop farther away. It was just Arthur and all of his Round Table knights, on some important route that couldn't be postponed, the details of it leaving Lancelot's head with the dread's arrival. They left Camelot behind them, and Merlin had to stay with Gaius to help with a disease outbreak.
They've left Merlin behind, and Lancelot's necklace falls off his neck, barely caught by his shivering hand.
A few paces ahead, the knights slow down, looking back at him. Arthur's mouth is forming words as he trots closer, but Lancelot can't hear him for the loud, panicked heartbeat in his ears, for the words breaking out of him with an urgency.
"I need to get back to Camelot."
~~~
He couldn't articulate what pulled him back, couldn't betray Merlin, neither in words nor in actions. He blamed a bad feeling instead, completely honest, and the knights had to believe him, for how pale he'd gotten, how he'd tried to walk off on his own when their horses whined in surrender with the night's arrival.
Someone's arms pushed him down, someone's words made him stay, as they haphazardly set up camp. He was left gripping the torn necklace in his hands while he stared into the dark woods.
He would never make it to Camelot in time on his own two legs, no matter that his heart urged him to try. The horses couldn't go through the night either, not seeing where they were stepping — it was bound to end in disaster, what with their field medic missing.
He grips the necklace tighter, trying to feel any bit of warmth in it, to hear magic's quiet heartbeat, but there is nothing: Lancelot isn't gifted with the sense; Merlin pressed too little magic in it, just enough to link, to break, afraid for both of them if it were caught. Lancelot holds onto a memory instead: just yesterday, Merlin was hale and happy, if a bit uneasy to be separated from Arthur; he was there to see them off on their journey and light-heartedly asked Lancelot for something from the local fair.
He has to hold onto hope, and once the horses rest and dawn breaks, they will run back to Camelot.
Merlin will have to wait just one night.
~~~
When the knights gallop into the courtyard, the fire's smoke rising high above the citadel, they are too late.
They say that Merlin went up in flames brighter than the sun, the wind screaming as it picked them up and flared them stronger, higher; that the sparks touched the sky itself.
When the fire let up, nothing remained.
Smoke remains in the air. It crawls through the town, choking everyone to tears at the memories of the clumsy servant's smile and his kind heart. The smell is nauseating, and there's no escape from it.
Gaius can't tell them anything, dead to the world in eyes, if not yet in body. Lancelot stays with him, and when they both fall apart in Merlin's room, for all his strength, Percival barely manages to hold them.
Gwen is let out of the quarters she's been restrained in, kicking and screaming at Arthur's chest, as he torches the guards at her door with a look. Choking on her tears, on smoke, she tells them what she's seen.
~~~
Arthur stares incomprehensibly at his uncle, barely hearing the wild tale he spouts. It was a good thing he'd left Gwaine with Gwen and Elyan, as Gwaine would have already run Agravaine through, and Arthur couldn't have it.
"I understand what you must feel, Arthur. The boy sneaked into your side, into your heart. This betrayal is truly unforgivable."
"I was a fool," Arthur agrees, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "To let a snake into the heart of the kingdom."
"I'm glad you saw the sense, then." Agravaine smiles at his nephew in a show of care — and how was Arthur this blind to the coldness in his eyes?
"Yes, I see it perfectly clear."
"I wanted to spare you the hurt of seeing to his death, the blood on your hands." Agravaine creeps closer in lieu of placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Arthur takes a shaking step back from the searing heat of it — remnants of holding the damning torch still clinging to the fingers.
"You had no right," he croaks.
But he did, Arthur knows. He himself left the kingdom in Agravaine's hands, pressing the royal seal into his fingers. He might as well have passed him the torch to light Merlin's fire.
"No right," he repeats obstinately.
Agravaine opens his mouth to speak, but Arthur has heard enough.
"You afforded him no trial," Arthur draws a sword with a hiss. "And I will not give you one either."
Leon stands guard outside the chamber, just as he did few years ago when Arthur had gone in to kill his father. This time, there's no Merlin to talk him down, to spare him the blood of his family on his hands. There's no Merlin to comfort him, as only he could, after the deed is done. Leon squeezes Arthur's shoulder in support and leaves to handle the rest — the news, the funerals, the investigations — things Arthur should not worry about right now, lost and unmoored as he is in the middle of the empty hall.
~~~
The news of Agravaine's demise spread quickly, the Citadel standing deathly silent in the face of the second murder of the day.
Gwaine paces his quarters, tearing at the clasp of his Pendragon cloak with shaking fingers. He throws it to the floor, and an amulet, getting stuck with it, falls to his feet. He stares bitterly at the memento. It was the only thing he had of his late father, and it should have been a reminder to him of the nobles' tyranny and of how loyalty to the Crown was rewarded. A reminder he did not heed.
In his own chambers, Lancelot's things lay strewn about — caught between urges to pack, to leave this place, and to crawl back to Merlin's room, to stay among his belongings. The necklace lies heavy in his hands, and he can't tie it around his neck to sit close to his heart. Each attempt to do so ended with it breaking, tearing, making Lancelot relive his loss again and again. He was supposed to protect him; he should have foreseen it: how sudden and terrible his home could turn to ashes. First his village, then Merlin. It all burned.
~~~
There are druids flocking to the city gates. Heedless of the danger, of smoke still in the air, they march into Camelot, with nothing left to lose. They come to bid their farewells, to pray.
They are let in.
Even if it turned out that Arthur never truly knew Merlin, never knew of his magic, Arthur believes that he still knew his heart, kind and caring, loyal to a fault. Arthur couldn't question him, couldn't pull the rest of his secrets out into the open, to hold and admire. But he knew his heart, and if Merlin had magic, then Merlin— then Magic couldn't be evil.
As the druids gather in the courtyard under his window to hold their vigil, Arthur can't look at them — the heavy guilt pulling him down to sit at the table.
He looks at his empty chambers. Merlin's body was eaten by the fire, his sins, if any, cleansed by the flame. Yet his spirit remained here: in scrawled notes on his reports, in carelessly made, untouched bed, in Arthur forever waiting for the door to open and let in Merlin's senseless chatter.
Picking at his mother's necklace, he lets hers and Merlin's spirit guide his hand over the parchment. As dawn breaks over the land, he welcomes the druids and magic's return to Camelot. Too late for his heart, but hopefully not too late for his people.
~~~
Everything is too bright, too alive. His skin flays with the touch of cool air, his lungs too filled with smoke to breathe, and so he doesn't, heart pumping fire through his veins, beating with magic's force alone.
The altar he wakes on is searing hot, and the burn is familiar.
Iseldir's face is the first one he sees.
"Emrys," the druid whispers, reverent, as he helps him to stand. The bright light of his eyes must blind the man, and he averts his gaze east, where Emrys knows his destiny haunts the halls of Camelot.
having 40 minutes to leave the house is terrible because 40 minutes is basically 30 minutes and 30 minutes is basically 20 minutes and 20 minutes is basically fifteen seconds. but 50 minutes? 50 minutes is an hour, and an hour? ooobh thats plany off time
📜 ✶ some redrawable moments from season 1 !! wanted to capture one of merthur's first big encounters as well as experiment with the way i could draw them^^
