There can be no place for magic in Camelot

Returning

Merlin had woken around noon, warm and comfortable. Gwaine was curled around him, nose tucked into his neck. He grinned remembering the night. He extricated himself from the other man, carefully, and walked to the cave entrance. He stood there, staring out into the forest, thinking about what Gwaine's company meant.

Maybe he missed him. Truly missed him, no ulterior motives. He'd been away from everyone, from Camelot and his destiny, for almost a fortnight. He'd enjoyed the solitude. The idea he didn't need to be up at dawn to ensure someone else was taken care of and safe. He hadn't had to worry if an angry sorcerer was planning an attack and how he could stop it. No court to attend to. No bickering old noblemen who took too much joy in belittling and abusing everyone around them. He had built up some muscle after the many years of hunting, training, and all around hauling the load meant for a horse so the beatings he had gotten weren't too bad. He had debated on telling Arthur about it several times, but the time never seemed right.

It felt like another lifetime when they had sat together at the first round table and talked of being equals. His thoughts were never far from that time, or from Lancelot l, these days. Lancelot had believed that Merlin would be free one day. That the time would come and he would be appreciated and loved for all he had done and sacrificed. Lancelot had found him being beaten by a courtier once, and it had not gone over well. Lancelot threatened the courtier and went straight to the Crowned Prince. Merlin still had some blood trailing down his face when he was dragged along. Arthur had been surprised to see him in such a state, but he was having a harder time believing who had done it.

Merlin felt himself harden a little inside when he saw the doubt in his supposed friend's face. Merlin had apologized for bothering the prince and all but ran out of the room to his own chambers where he could change into a shirt that didn't have blood on it. Lancelot had been furious. When he came to check on Merlin, Merlin had distracted him. Kissed him long and hard pressed up against a wall. Lancelot had responded and had kissed every bruise and ache Merlin had been given. Lancelot saw the shattered pieces that Merlin tried to hide and he filled in the cracks with as much affection and reassurance as he could. But then he was gone. Their time together, nothing but a memory. Merlin knew he hadn't been in love with Lancelot as the man teased him about pining after Gwaine, but he loved him as a friend. Lancelot had been the only one to argue that Merlin deserved a seat at the table. That he helped take back the castle the same as everyone. But no one else had bothered. It was as if it was a moment that was lost in time. They didn't see him as an equal, and they never would. He had felt like such a fool for thinking that maybe they were all friends. Lancelot had seen how much it tore Merlin apart. How he had built up a shield, a mask, and no one noticed. No one had seen how broken he felt. And when Lancelot had left him, he had lost all hope that he would be accepted by the others

Merlin watched as the sun trekked it's way across the sky; light filtered through the trees reaching him. He went back in the cave and pulled his clothes on. He needed to take a walk and breathe. As he walked his thoughts were churning. Apparently all he needed to do for his destiny to be complete, was to leave. Take himself out of the equation. Leave politics and war and protecting the King to others. He stood next to a small pond and picked up some stones to skip. As much as Arthur had constantly asked his opinion on various matters, he'd never told him they were friends. He'd said if things had been different, if he weren't who he was, then maybe they could have been. But they weren't. Merlin was just his servant. If they didn't want to talk to him or hear his opinion they could order him away. And if he chose not to obey, he would be sent to the stocks or even thrown in the cells for a night. It had happened enough times that he stopped offering his opinion. Time after time his advice proved sound, and time after time it went ignored. Even in the aftermath, no one had ever thanked him for speaking up, for taking the brunt of an attack. No one had ever checked to see if he had been injured in a long time. Not since Agravaine had him kidnapped to try to kill Arthur. That was nearly three years ago now.