A/N: Welcome back, guys. Wow, I didn't expect that much attention for this fic! Thanks a lot, you are great!

Well … So I decided to continue this after all. Mostly because I was terribly deprived of Mercelot since Lancelot's second death ("Lancelot du Lac" sucked epically, but it still broke my heart), but also because I like the ideas I have for this.

This is now completely AU. Morgana used a different kind of spell and this changed the outcome … a lot.

I warn you: The second chapter is extremely awkward … This was intentional, so please bear with me a little. It will get better, even if season4!Merlin is the strangest character I have ever written about. Boy can't make up his mind. At all. And his sense of humour is weirder than mine … Which says a lot.

Whatever ^.^

Added general notes:

Point of view: Merlin, occasionally Agravaine

Pairings: Besides Merlin/Lancelot, there will be Arthur/Guinevere, onesided Agravaine/Morgana, Agravaine/Guinevere, possibly Arthur/Merlin (which might or might not be onesided) and implied Morgana/Guinevere. (Gwen, you are as popular as ever … You sexy thing.)

Warnings: Basically everything I listed in the first Author's note, plus a little bit of het and possibly some minor violence. And awkwardness. Much, much awkwardness. Might turn into a dark!Merlin fic, I haven't decided yet.

Other: I'll look for a beta reader. I promise. If any of you feel the sudden need to help a poor German girl improve her English by correcting her stuff, feel free to tell me, I've had a hard time finding someone so far.

Enjoy! =)

BGM: Pati Yang – The Boy In Your Eyes

When Merlin woke up the next day, he was alone.

The room was all silent, except for the faint sounds of daily business rising up from the streets beneath the single window. Laughter and the steady rhythm of horseshoes on the pavement made the thick air vibrate ever so softly and filled it with life. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Soft rays of the morning sun fell into the room and flickered across the wall like deceivingly shy fairy creatures.

Merlin felt a bit chilly today, probably because he was hopelessly tangled up in his blanket instead of peacefully slumbering underneath and covered in cold sweat from head to toe. Just like he had expected, the bedsheets were damp and sticky from sweat and semen, his mind was in complete chaos and somehow he had managed to get rid off his clothes in his sleep; they were now messily scattered across the floor right in front of the bed.

He almost wanted to believe he simply suffered from a slight hangover, despite not having drunk even one drop of alcohol during the past weeks.

Still, his head felt like it was close to bursting and when he thought back to what kind of dream had tormented him last night, he almost became physically sick.

He had some kind of standards, had he not?

There was no way he could have dreamt about sleeping with an evil version of his dead best friend! How messed up was that? It was not like him. He liked to play with fire and sure, it had been nothing but a dream, but there was a thing called respect – and Merlin had violated it, with immense pleasure even. Despite his doubts. Despite how disturbingly real it had seemed to him then …

If Lancelot had been there for real, had Merlin given in so easily as well? Now, that the intoxication of the dream had worn off, he did not think so. But still …

Moaning in agonising guilt, he rubbed his palm against his forehead until he felt awake enough to analyse this from a more rational perspective.

Obviously, his subconscious had wanted to do something morally wrong and expressed it in a dream. No big deal, right? There was no need to feel guilty for his fantasy. He only wished the little part inside of him that actually wanted it all to be real would just shut the hell up and let him be. There was nothing to be done. No matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of Lancelot's presence anywhere. Except for-

Merlin shuddered as he sat up in his bed.

The pain.

Burning and tearing at him from inside. Hesitantly, Merlin's hand reached between his legs. Sticky moisture was covering his sore entrance, slowly dripping down his inner thighs.

Oh my god …

Instantly, his head started spinning again. The aftermath of a drug maybe? What on earth had he done last night? He was not sure he wanted to know the answer …

However, one fact clearly could not be denied: Someone had slept with him last night – and judging from the pain, they had not been very gentle. Like in a trance, Merlin started to carefully examine his own body. There were a few bite marks and bruises here and there and when he brushed through his hair with his fingers, he found it in a complete mess, but other than that, he seemed to be fine.

He felt a bit relieved, but only a tiny little bit.

So at least now he knew he had not been brutally ravished by someone his fantasy tried to pass off as his dead friend. He had probably been ravished, yes, but at least not brutally.

Merlin almost wanted to laugh out loud about how surreal this all felt. This was a sick joke, nothing else. He should just forget it.

Slowly, he got up, feeling every single fibre in his body ache, and sloppily dressed himself to go and fetch some water for a bath and a drink. His throat was painfully dry and, for a very good reason, he felt filthy.

God, he was not sure he would be able to scrub the dirt off his skin ever again … Someone had raped him last night and he had not a single bloody clue who it could have been, for screaming out loud!

Frustrated, nervous and desperate at the same time, he opened the now empty physician's quarters and wanted to go downstairs, when just in this moment, he saw the dark clad figure of another man standing in the middle of the room, placing something onto the table.

This isn't possible …

"Lancelot!", Merlin cried out with a coarse voice and felt all colour vanishing from his face.

So it had not be a dream after all … Not that it made him feel any better.

"Hello Merlin", Lancelot said nonchalantly and simply smiled. "I was just about to go upstairs and wake you up. I thought I'd make breakfast for us, hope you don't mind."

Carefully as not to trip over his own feet, Merlin walked down the stairs without taking his eyes off of the other man for a single second. He just stared at him in disbelief, even when Lancelot walked over to him and quickly kissed him on the lips.

"Good morning, love …"

"Mornin'", Merlin replied, now completely and utterly puzzled. "So you really are back …"

"Well, I guess I am", Lancelot said casually and softly caressed the warlock's cheek with his fingertips. "I think this is the happiest day of my life."

Chuckling lightly, he attempted to kiss the boy again, but this time, Merlin shied away from the touch of his lips. He could not accept the obvious truth so easily and fall prey for this strange enchantment he did not understand just yet. No, not like this.

"But how …", he asked, not really knowing how to finish his sentence without being too blunt.

He still could not believe this all was real. Last night, in the heat of the moment, he had not questioned it, thinking it was all just a dream, but now he could not pass it off as a mere trick of the mind any longer. It really was Sir Lancelot, in the flesh, and in fact he seemed a lot more like his old self in the morning light than he had last night. The hint of red had vanished from his eyes, only the usual soft dark brown remained and his smile seemed warm and genuine as he took Merlin's hand and gently pulled the boy over to the breakfast table.

"Let's sit down first", the knight said and pushed Merlin unto one of the two chairs in the room before he sunk down unto the other one so only the table separated them now.

Merlin nodded absent-mindedly. He did not care as long as he got his answer. In fact, he was glad to feel the steadiness of a wooden chair underneath his helplessly trembling body. Not sure about how to react, he just looked into Lancelot's eyes and tried to find the answer in their glistening depths.

"So, will you explain it to me now?"

"There is not much to explain", Lancelot tried to evade the question and sighed loudly when he realized Merlin would not be satisfied with just that. "Fine, here's the whole boring story: I passed through the veil and entered the world of the dead. And that's where I remained for a long, long time, until one day, I suddenly woke up somewhere in the woods, without any rhyme or reason. It just happened. So, after I had accepted the obvious truth, I decided to return to Camelot. Where else could I have gone? After all, it's the only place I know … The only home I've got in this world."

He paused for a moment and stared down unto the table to hide the hint of sadness in his eyes before he continued.

"I somehow managed to find Camelot and slip past the guards. I know I should not have done that, but it was in the middle of the night and I didn't want to cause any trouble, so I sneaked in like an outlaw. However, I could not sleep in a random street corner where I would have raised too much attention. I still needed a place to spend the night. And since I did not know where else to turn, I came here. Because I knew you to be the only person in this world who would not forsake me in this situation."

His eyes rose to Merlin's again.

"I knew you wouldn't send me away. I knew you would understand, as you always do." A faint grin appeared on his face. "But to be honest, I did not expect you to kiss me out of the blue …"

Merlin could feel himself getting flustered at those words. So it had been him to take the initiative …

"I'm sorry", he apologised sheepishly. "It just kind of happened."

"No need to be sorry", Lancelot chuckled quietly and reached for Merlin's hand across the table. "I've wanted to kiss you forever. I just never found the courage to do so. How could I have known you were … you know, like that."

Merlin shrugged. "Well, this isn't exactly the kind of thing you can be open about around everybody. The laws of Camelot may accept it, but you know how people are. What was I supposed to do? You already knew about my other secret, I felt no need to tell you about this one as well."

"Have you told anybody at all?"

Slowly, Merlin shook his head.

"Not at Camelot, anyway. My mother knows. She is fine with it. She just wants me to be happy. Besides, it's not like I'm throwing myself at every man I see. I mostly look out for women. I want to have a family one day."

"But I wasn't your first man, now was I?" Lancelot slightly tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

"No", Merlin admitted reluctantly. He did not like where this was going. "No, you were not the first. But close. You were my second, actually."

"Then who was the first?"

The warlock hesitated. While there probably was nothing wrong with telling the truth, a part of him did not want to risk providing Lancelot with personal information like that. In the end, however, Merlin chose honesty over mistrust.

"His name was Will … William, actually", he explained as matter-of-factly as possible. "He was a childhood friend of mine, just a few months older than me and constantly getting me into trouble. I did not mind. Then, when we were sixteen, we had this fling going on for a while … It didn't work out the way we planned. I had to leave when people started to talk. About that and my magic. The mob would've skinned me alive if they had ever found both rumours to be true …"

He was surprised about how good it actually felt to get this off his chest. He had not talked about it to anyone since he came to Camelot. Gaius would probably not have understood it. Arthur would not even have listened. Gwen, wholesome, the virtuous young woman she was, would have been too shocked at the confession to help.

But Lancelot – Lancelot was different. He simply gave his friend a sympathetic squeeze of the hand and looked at him with comforting brown eyes.

"Must have been hard for you", he said and from his voice, Merlin could tell he meant it.

"Oh, it was, believe me", the warlock replied and nervously started playing with the spoon lying in front of him, rolling it around on the surface of the table in erratic circles. This – all of this – just kept confusing him more and more. He just wanted to understand.

"What about you?", he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I never would have guessed you liked seducing men. You seem more like the chaste heartbreaker type to me", he added jokingly to brighten up the mood. Oddly enough, it somehow worked.

"Never judge a book by its cover", Lancelot advised him with a sly grin. "But no … Actually, I don't really fancy men. You are an exception. But I have to confess you are not the first for me, either."

"I noticed that." Merlin curiously lifted an eyebrow. "How did it happen for you? Adolescent experiments? Alcohol? Love?"

"None of that, actually. The man who taught me how to use a sword demanded certain 'favours' in exchange for his lessons. Since I didn't have any money, what choice did I have?"

Astonished by that confession, Merlin stared at his old friend in bewilderment.

"You sold your body for the chance to maybe become a knight of Camelot one day?", he repeated just to make sure he had gotten it right. "Good grief, you clearly are a lot more determined than I thought you were."

Lancelot merely shrugged.

"It wasn't that bad", he said but did not seem too sure about that himself. "My teacher was a drunkard and a very bitter, cynical man, but he was kind and gentle with me. He never forced me. He even made me enjoy it somehow. I do not regret what I did back then, but now that I know how it can be, I realise how meaningless it was. It doesn't even compare to the night we shared. That was the first time I actually wanted it and it felt so … different."

"Good different?"

"No." Lancelot smiled. "More like 'great different'. I did not know it could ever be like this … Not even with a woman."

"You sound like the heroine of a cheesy romantic tale", Merlin chuckled. It still felt uncomfortable, but he slowly warmed up to the thought of having Lancelot back and just getting over his doubts. Maybe he had been wrong about the whole 'evil' thing all along?

Lancelot seemed perfectly normal to him now. Even more broken and self-conscious than he used to be, but that could be the effects of the time behind the veil. And his sudden flirtatious attitude? Well, Merlin had kissed him last night. Of course Lancelot would have taken that as an invitation for more.

"A romantic tale …", Lancelot thought out loud and smiled mischievously, looking deeply into the other man's eyes. "Maybe that's just how you make me feel?"

Merlin swallowed hard. That was … not what he had expected.

"What exactly do you mean by that?", he asked, frowning.

"Nothing", the knight answered calmly, entangling his fingers with the servant boy's. "But, if you don't mind, I would like to continue like this. I want to be with you."

"As my friend or as my … lover?"

Merlin did not like the taste of the last word. It still felt so wrong in this context … But strangely right at the same time. He wanted it. And he was scared at the same time.

"We'll see." Lancelot just kept smiling, then finally let go of his friend's hand so they could both start eating at last.

Merlin, too, picked up his wooden spoon and tried to turn his attention to the bowl in front of him which seemed to contain some kind of porridge that did not exactly look very appetising. Needless to say, he was very suspicious of the food anyway – after all he was surrounded by all kinds of poisons and he had read more than enough about magic potions …

It took him a while of careful examination, but after he did not sense or smell anything weird, he decided to be brave and try a little. It tasted fairly good. Not delicious, but edible enough. And, most importantly, it did not make him feel any different, except for the way it reminded him on how hungry he was.

"How is it?", Lancelot asked curiously while he eyed each of Merlin's gestures with obvious entertainment. "I fear I am a lousy cook, but I wanted to save you some time."

"It's not bad", the warlock replied truthfully. "Better than Gaius' cooking anyway."

His chest tightened when he said those words. He missed eating with his mentor, missed their cheerful chats and the laughter. The loss had ripped a whole into Merlin's life nothing could fill, no matter how hard he tried had to drown his sorrows in hard work, bad jokes and eventually an inconsiderate sexual encounter with his supposed-to-be-dead best friend.

"Merlin", Lancelot said in a soft, sympathetic tone, "I've been wanting to ask you this since I arrived last night and found this room empty, but I never seemed to find the right moment for it … So I will ask you now: Where is Gaius?"

The silence between them became so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

Merlin needed a moment before he had collected the strength to speak.

"He is … dead", he finally confessed, remaining as calm as he possibly could.

"Oh Merlin, I didn't-" Lancelot swallowed visibly. "How did it happen?"

"He was killed to protect his king", Merlin simply stated. That was all anyone needed to know.

Lancelot nodded in a empathetic manner.

"Loyal till the very end", he commented with great respect in his voice. "Like I would have expected from him."

He paused for a moment.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Merlin. I wish I had something comforting to say."

"I can manage", Merlin reassured him with a weak smile. "Thank you. I'm glad you are here."

God, how much he meant those words …

And how much he wished he was lying!

He knew he was not supposed to like the idea of having Lancelot back at his side, but he could not fight the feeling of solace he got from the other man's presence. After all, right now the knight was the only one who was aware about the warlock's secret and had not attempted to kill him because of it yet. They had been so close friends before Lancelot's sacrifice … Merlin missed that. He missed trusting someone so deeply. He missed having got someone to share all of his secrets without having to fear being judged for it – or worse.

With Lancelot, it all seemed so easy again. As natural as when they first met and laid their lives into each other's hands. A bond had been made that day. And this bond could not be broken … Or so Merlin would have liked to believe.

Yet, right now, it was but a lie. All of it.

Whatever might have been between them – feelings of trust, loyalty and friendship, maybe even romance – was gone. Merlin had felt it so clearly last night. Even in the dim moonlight, it could not have been denied.

Was he really going to fall for the trap that had so obviously been set for him? He could not trust anyone right now … But he wanted to. And what if Lancelot was actually telling the truth? Could it be? Could he have returned from the dead on his own, just like that? Could Merlin's impressions from last night really be that wrong?

Right now, there were too many burning questions and no answers to be found … So the warlock had got no choice but to play along and keep his eyes open in case anything out of order would happen.

They quietly finished their meal, all while Merlin could feel Lancelot's dark eyes examining him thoroughly. Surprisingly, the analytic looks seemed to be quite loving underneath it all, which made it even harder for the servant boy to think straight.

When he put down his spoon and lifted his gaze to meet Lancelot's, he still did not really know what to say.

For a few seconds, they just looked into each other's eyes in silence. Lancelot seemed to misinterpret this completely. It only inspired him lean in for yet another tender kiss that repulsed Merlin just as much as it made his heart falter and his insides tingle with foolish pleasure.

"I don't think we should continue like that …", Merlin whispered, shamefully turning his face away from the other man.

"Why not?", Lancelot gently disagreed. "It will be our secret. Nobody has to know …"

"That's not the problem here. The problem is: What are we going to tell Arthur? How can we convince him you are not a sorcerer or a shapeshifter or a walking corpse? What if he sentences you to death simply for being here? Lancelot, I have only just gotten you back. I don't want to lose you once again. I could not bear another death. Least of all yours."

"So, what do you think I'm supposed to do now?"

"Leave. As soon as possible. I can smuggle you out of here in a hooded cloak or something. It's not safe here in Camelot for someone like you."

"It's not that easy, Merlin. I cannot just leave this place behind and go somewhere else. I have sworn loyalty to this kingdom. This is the place where I belong. I'd rather be put to death than having to give up this life again. Or you, for that matter. You have no idea how much I have missed you. I have never had a friend like you before. And it was so lonely behind the veil …"

Lancelot was not asking to stay. He was pleading. His eyes were glowing with panic, his beautiful face was tainted by grief. He clearly did not want to leave again. He would rather be put to death. And there was not way he was acting.

Suddenly, Merlin felt bad about all that he had thought before. Had he really become this mistrustful over the course of the past months? Had he really tried to push Lancelot away like that when the knight needed him so badly right now? How self-centred and spiteful had he become?

Merlin nervously cleared his throat and gave his best to show his friend his gentler side again.

"What was it like?", he asked sympathetically and prepared to listen.

Lancelot's relieved sigh was barely noticeable, but it was there, just a moment before he spoke.

"It was horrible", he explained with a pained frown and shaking voice. "I can hardly explain just how bad it was. It has to be seen – no, felt - to be believed. The whole realm was cold and empty …And endless. Endless hollow space. Nothing but torture for your mind after a while. It starts out harmless, but then it hits you hard. It makes you brittle. To the point where you feel like breaking underneath the slightest touch you long for so much. But that touch never came. My only company were the souls that were either slowly losing their memories or already hollow, unconscious shells of what they once have been. And this … this strange world! I can't describe it, but it is enough to drive the strongest man insane. Please don't make me speak or even think of it again. If I ever go back there, I hope I will be granted to mercy to forget quickly … Being there and being conscious at the same time is impossible. I would not have been able to take that for much longer."

Merlin nodded softly.

"I am glad you made it out of there", he said. "But that is the reason I don't want you to die so soon."

"I don't care. I've seen it all now. Death has taught me the things that really matter. And what matters to me is that I can be here, at Camelot. With you and the other knights. It's what I want more than anything. And if I have to risk my life for the chance, then so I will."

"So I can't convince you otherwise?"

Lancelot smiled weakly.

"No, Merlin. You cannot."

"Hell, you are even more stubborn than me", Merlin joked half-heartedly, but it did not come out right.

Lancelot rubbed his chin and looked aside.

"It's not as if I'm not scared at all", he confessed, "but if I have truly learned something in the other world, it's this: Dying properly is mercy. I don't fear Uther or his laws. Let me face him, I can manage."

"Uther?" Merlin was completely dumbfounded for a second before he remembered Lancelot had 'died' before Arthur had become the new king.

"What's wrong, Merlin?"

"About Uther …" The warlock was lost for words for a moment. "He, too, died some time ago. Arthur has taken his place."

"Good thing you tell me now", Lancelot commented a bit dryly. "But it's okay, it's not like it's important or anything …"

"I'm sorry", Merlin apologised. "I didn't think of it sooner. It feels so natural already. Arthur really does a good job. He might be an idiot most of the time, but at times like these, you can sense that he is destined for great things."

"As are you." Their eyes met. Lancelot's had a serious look about them. "So? Did he change his mind about magic? At least a little?"

Slowly, the warlock shook his head.

"No. Well, not yet …"

"One day, he will", Lancelot promised him and gave him a warm smile. "Peace and freedom will come to this kingdom. One way or another."

There was something threatening about the last sentence, but Merlin could not put his finger on it. He told himself once more to better be careful. This quiet, sunny morning could betray his senses any time. However, he could not let his insecurity shine through.

"Well, first of all we have to somehow warm him up to the thought you are back from the dead", he said as cheerfully as possible and got up from the table. "Let me get washed and bring him some breakfast, then he'll probably take a lot better to it. I told you he's not exactly a morning person."

"I remember", Lancelot said and nodded. "I'll just wait here until he is ready for the exciting news."

In an attempt to fake his usual laid-back attitude, Merlin scratched his head with a silly grin on his face.

"Poor Arthur", he sighed theatrically. "He's in for quite a shock …"