Work Text:
Lancelot couldn't say how he had ended up stripping off his clothes by the lake, but he knew whatever it was, Gwaine and Merlin were to blame.
“Shouldn't I be… rescuing people?” He yanked his foot free of his boot and tossed it. It fumbled to a stop with the other one between Merlin’s legs where he was sitting on a tree log.
Gwaine cleared his throat from beside him and threw his arm over his shoulder. “As your manager—”
“Are we really going with that?”
“As your manager,” he continued. “We gotta see what you're capable of first before we toss you to a few damsels.”
Lancelot fumbled with his doublet. “You saw what I was capable of.” The memory more than freshly etched into their minds from the day before.
“Can’t be all. Don't it make you a bit curious what else you can do?” Gwaine pressed.
He scoffed, not wanting to even entertain the idea. “I think a sword forming from water at the touch of my hand is enough weird for a bit, Gwaine.”
“Merlin has a talking dragon, why can't you have some magic water sword?”
“It's not magic.” It couldn't be. Merlin was the one with the magic, not him.
Gwaine hummed. “Seems pretty magical.”
“Its not magic.” He tossed his doublet with his other clothes.
“Why don't we ask our resident warlock here then?”
They both looked towards Merlin.
The man in question looked up from where he was picking up and brushing off his doublet. “I mean…” he shrugged aimlessly. “It's not not magic?”
Because that clears things up. Lancelot sighed.
“Maybe you, I don't know, picked it up from somewhere?”
“Like a sickness?” He questioned.
“But funner.” Gwaine's finger prodded at his chest. He turned to Merlin, lowering his voice a bit. “Is that possible?”
“Well, I didn't say it was possible—”
Lancelot groaned. “This isn't weird enough for either of you?”
Gwaine shrugged. Semi new territory for him.
Merlin briefly hesitated then shook his head. “Nah, could be weirder.”
Why did he even try…
Gwaine pointed a finger at Merlin. “Atta boy. Now keep stripping, Lake Man.”
A grunt came from Lancelot as Gwaine's hand slapped his back. He sighed again. Undressing from his tunic and tossing it with the rest of his clothes. Trousers followed suit as he undid the laces and let them fall, kicking them to the side as well.
“Alright?” He let his arms fall to his side, awaiting further instructions.
The two men in front of him turned to another, sharing an equally amused look with each other.
Then Gwaine cocked his head with that smug grin of his. “Gonna get your drawers wet?” he teased.
Lancelot felt the heat on his cheek, the smile forcing itself on his face as he tried to fight it. “It's freezing out here.” It wasn't a strong argument. He didn't mean for it to be.
“Your drawers won't make much of a difference,” Merlin said nonchalantly. “And it’d be a rather cold walk back to the castle.”
“Nothing me or Merlin haven't seen before.” Gwaine continued on.
They played like this more often than not. Benefit of the situation really; always two against one. He'd like to think that perhaps they spent too much time with one another; it never seemed enough though.
He yanked on the strings of his drawers and pushed them down. “Happy?” A cold breeze brushed his body, passing a chill through him.
Merlin smiled more, adverting his gaze down to his lap. All the while, evidently satisfied, Gwaine stepped aside and gestured to the sea with a mock bow of his head. “Your domain awaits.”
The air was muggy, the smell of the sea strong in the air as the surrounding trees and greenery swayed with the breeze. He moved, the damp dirt under his feet as they sunk in further the closer he got to the shore, water lapping up on his feet.
He licked his lips, his heart picking up. “What is this supposed to achieve?”
“Just let the water wash over you,” said Gwaine.
Merlin nodded behind him, mouthing ‘Wash’ while making a sweeping motion with his hand and then a thumbs up.
This was never what he planned for himself being a knight of the round table of Camelot. This is never what he planned for himself ever. And yet, the water crept up his body higher with every step he took closer, trusting both of them more than his unsurety.
It climbed; the cold brushing his knees, his thighs, his hips, and Inching it's way up his torso with every ripple in the water. The water lifted his feet as it reached his chin. He gasped on reflex and lifted his head, the cold touched his ears before it brushed his bottom lip. He took a steady exhale then filled his lungs, letting the body of water pull him into itself.
The rush of the world left him, drowning with him as he moved his hands against the force of the lake. The harsh rocks of the seafloor drew away as the water carried him. He reached out his hand and did as before. A glimmer, what he first thought was a trick of the eye coupled with the sun's rays; but it was of nothing he had ever seen before a few days ago.
A hilt of a sword formed, becoming solid in the grasp of his hand as the blade formed, weighing itself heavy. He brushed his thumb along it, feeling only the cool of the water at his touch. He tightened his hold, everything withstanding, twirling his wrist and watched the blade cut through the water with ease as if the weight of the lake wasn't working against his every move.
He loosened his grasp, looking the blade over. The sharp edges as if freshly made and a balance of no other he'd ever felt. This was his reality, beyond magic, beyond what Merlin had brought into his life, that of which he didn't regret a bit.
The sword leaned blade first, falling out of his hand as he let it. He watched and waited for it to touch the bottom of the floor, that surety of his once more fading as the glimmer started to disappear the more it fell. No more a trick of the light of what he thought before as the blade slowly fell apart. Tip first, corroding as if plunge in acid, the hilt started to lose that luster he held in his hands just moments before.
He swam down, trying to beat the water as he reached for the sword that further fell apart quicker than he could get to it. Barely able to tell where it once was he finally reached the bottom of the riverbed. He touched the floor, running his hand blindly around, brushing rocks and pushing sand up into the water, hoping to feel something of evidence of the sword.
His chest was aching, and he couldn't stay down much longer, so he tried his luck. Repeating what he'd done before, he reached out his hand waiting for the blade to form itself again.
A glimmer appeared again, something he was beginning to grow used to. The blade from tip to hilt illuminating in the water as it became solid once more—except the portion of the bottom of the hilt. He waited for it to do what he'd seen it do previously, but saw as the glimmer continued to form, wrapping around his hand like a light touch.
And a touch it was. The image before him coming together, the glimmer in the shape of a hand pulled back revealing the rest of the hilt.
He gasped, yanking his hand back, and cursing his instincts. Pain spread under his right foot as he pushed against the floor to get himself to the surface. But… there was no burning, no drowning feeling suffocating from the water.
He could… breathe?!
His chest rising and falling without any ache or pain. The weight of the water consumed him entirely; before the panic set in. Not letting the thought linger any longer, he swam as quickly as he could the rest of the way to the surface.
Noise broke through as wind hit him and a chill ran through his body. Warm hands were wrapped around both of his upper arms, his lower body dragged in the sand before dropping him there as he stayed limp.
He coughed, not sure if the burn in his chest was from the water or the air. Something warm was draped over him. The breathing besides his own came into his focus, someone's lower body was under him, scratchy material and the press of boots to his legs. A hand passed through his hair, smoothing it out of his face.
“Lancelot?”
He looked up to find Gwaine, sat beside him with a worried look. But it wasn't his hand nor body that was pressed to his.
“Are you okay?”
He looked up towards Merlin who was wearing the same concerned look as Gwaine.
Gwaine's hand settled on back. “What happened down there?”
He let out something of a groan as an answer, letting his body fall back onto Merlin's and stay in both of their grasp.
Entirely and utterly their fault.