The Broken Seal
Summary: Arthur wakes up in Gaius' quarters with a bruised Gwen looking warily down at him. His head pounds horribly and he can't remember anything. And what's worse - Merlin is nowhere to be found. Whump and good ol' graphic, bloody violence.
Rating: T, for graphic violence.
Disclaimer: If you think I own Merlin, you're quite mad. I like that.
Arthur woke with the worst headache he had ever had in his life. The light was piercing into the very depths of his brain, even through his closed eyelids. He furrowed his brow and moved his head to the side, struggling to escape the brightness. But the slight movement only made it worse, and he moaned in pain. "Merlin," he complained hoarsely, raising his hand to cover his eyes.
"Arthur?"
Arthur stopped, confused. That definitely was not Merlin's voice. It was Gwen's, and they did not share a bed. Speaking of beds, this definitely was not his own. It was much too hard and lumpy. He forced his eyes open, but they immediately slammed shut, and it took a long moment for him to peel them back again. Everything was quite blurry and disorientating.
"Guinevere," he sighed, "why are you in here? Where's Merlin?"
She was leaning over him, her dark curls framing her face. After a moment of focusing, her features became clearer to him. Gwen looked wary and tired, and was sporting a purple bruise on her left cheek. Arthur immediately sat up, looking angrily at it, and Gwen took a step back.
"Who did that to you?" Arthur demanded.
Gwen frowned. "Are you...all right?"
The king scoffed as though that were the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard. "Never mind me," he said. "I asked who did that to you?"
Before Gwen could reply, Arthur turned at the sound of a door opening, and it was only then that he realized he was lying on the patient bed in Gaius' chambers. The old court physician was the one who entered. He stopped when he saw Arthur sitting up.
"Sire," he said, going to his side. "You should not be up."
"Why?" Arthur immediately demanded. "Were we attacked? What happened?"
Gaius regarded him for a long moment, his eyebrow even higher than usual. "What do you remember?"
Arthur frowned and wracked his brain, thinking past the pain. "I woke up, and Merlin, of course, was nowhere to be found," he said, rubbing his temple. "He was late, as usual. So I got up myself and decided to get a head start on the documents. And then...then..." Arthur's pout deepened. After a moment he finished lamely, "And that's all I recall."
Gaius and Gwen shared an unreadable look over Arthur's head.
"Sire," Gaius said, "I'll give you a tonic for that headache. Perhaps you should retire to your chambers and rest a while longer? Perhaps you'll remember later."
For a moment, Arthur thought there was something strange underlying Gaius' voice, but when his head gave a particularly nasty throb, he forgot it and accepted the small vial being handed to him. "Thank you, Gaius. I think I will."
He stood a bit unsteadily, but Gwen grabbed his arm for support. Together, they began to make their way to Arthur's chambers. Arthur shot a sideways glance to his wife. She was tightlipped, and kept her gaze determinedly in front of them.
"Guinevere," Arthur said.
"Yes, my lord."
The king in blinked in surprise at her curtness. That was very unlike her. But then, he conceded, she looked as though she had been beaten, and Arthur apparently could not recall who had done it. It was likely he had received a blow to the head, probably trying to defend her. He decided that Gwen was entitled to being a bit short, since she had obviously been through much while he was out.
"Who did that to you?" he tried again.
She exhaled heavily through her nose, but shook her head. "Let's just get you to your chambers, Sire."
Arthur scowled, most unhappy. But he knew that Gwen could be even more stubborn than he, and he gave up. He looked up when he heard approaching footsteps. The knights of the round table fully halted when they saw their king. Each of them wore a schooled expression that belied anger, but looked no worse for wear.
Only Leon nodded stiffly in acknowledgment. Before Arthur could ask anything of them, they had passed by as one, refusing to meet his gaze. Percival had a tight grip on both Elyan and Gwaine, who both looked livid when they saw Arthur's bewildered expression.
"What on earth was all that about?" Arthur exclaimed, huffing in offense.
Gwen said nothing. She continued to support her husband toward his chambers. When they reached the stairway, Arthur tried once more.
"Guinevere, please," he said. "Tell me what has happened. I truly remember nothing."
"Perhaps that's best."
He sighed in exasperation. His head pounded angrily, and it was only made worse as he tried to remember anything that had happened. Just one memory would appease him! One! But nothing came, and Arthur was starting to feel very cross. Everyone he had met since he'd woken had done nothing to alleviate his predicament. But he brooded silently for the rest of the journey to his chambers.
The doors were already open, so they strolled through. Arthur stopped in the doorway, his annoyance evident. The bed was unmade, his clothes were strewn about, and a breakfast tray had been left out on the table, though its contents had been thrown to the floor. One of the curtains was torn, billowing in the breeze that floated in from the open window. "Merlin," Arthur growled. "That useless idi-"
He was abruptly cut off by a sharp slap to his cheek. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his disheveled blonde hair, and he looked at Gwen. Unshed tears shined in her angry eyes, and her usually soft lips were in a thin line. "Don't you dare," she hissed, "talk about him like that."
"Who?" Arthur asked, baffled. "You mean Merlin?"
Gwen's eyes closed, and she took several deep, calming breaths. "I'm sorry, my lord," she said finally. "I should be going now. You should rest." She curtsied slightly, an old habit that he had dissuaded constantly, and left him alone, shutting the door behind her.
A hand came up to gingerly touch his stinging cheek. If he thought his head hurt before, now his skull was splitting. He looked around, confused and now slightly worried. Something must have, judging from the state of the room, Merlin's apparent absence, and Gwen's attitude, happened. Something bad that had resulted in Gwen getting hurt and the knights moving about in an angry little herd. And it must have involved him.
But he honestly had no recollection of it.
With a sigh, Arthur uncorked the vial in his hand and chugged down its bitter contents. He eyed his bed distastefully. He would have liked to sleep on clean sheets, but he supposed it would be all right. He could always take it out on Merlin later, once he'd turned up again. Some time in the stocks would suffice. And mucking out the stables, along with his usual chores. Arthur supposed the knights wouldn't mind lending out some work. The king, smirking, made to crawl into his bed when something caught his eye.
He looked down. The rope he'd had Merlin use to lower him from his window once upon a time was lying out in plain sight. He was sure he'd tucked that away somewhere. Frowning, he picked it up, only for it to pull taut. It had been tied around the bottom bedpost. Had he tried to escape from his window? His head hurt as though he'd hit it hard, and the memory loss only supported it. Arthur felt around his noggin for any telltale bumps, but found none, though he noticed his jaw felt a bit sore. His eyes followed the length of the coil until it found the end.
"Guards! Guards!"
"Ar'hur, plea-ack! I-I, di-hick! Ar-!"
Arthur recoiled from the sudden memory, dropping the rope. Gwen's shrill cries for the guards nearly drowned out the choking noises from...from...Who was pleading with Arthur? The voice, though panicked and hurt, sounded so very familiar...
The king moaned, burying his face in his hands. His head throbbed painfully as the voices receded. They had been brought on without warning, at precisely the moment he had lain eyes on the noose knotted at the end of the rope. Arthur needed to sit down.
He stumbled over to the desk chair and fell heavily into it. He white-knuckled the edge of the desk, eyes scrunched closed and breathing slowly through his nausea. But then he was sent reeling with a dizzying onslaught of memories. Arthur remembered everything.
With Merlin nowhere to be found (that idiot was late again!), Arthur got up and dressed himself. He made sure that everything was messier than usual, as punishment for his horrible manservant's lateness. He looked out of the window at the rising sun and nodded with approval. It was a beautiful day.
Then his eyes landed on his work desk, which was piled with documents that needed reading. Perhaps the day wasn't so beautiful, after all. With a heavy sigh, Arthur sat in his chair and began his work. The first two documents dealt with taxes. Arthur hated dealing with taxes. It was probably one of the most boring things about running a kingdom, aside from the nearly perpetual council meetings.
The young king rifled through the papers, looking for anything that wouldn't put him back to sleep. Something interesting, such as the letter he came across moments later. He frowned. The wax seal was not one he recognized. It had a strange crest imprinted in it. Arthur squinted at it and turned it several ways, trying to make it out, but it just made no sense. It almost reminded him of a jumble of letters, one top of the other. Perhaps the wax had warped a bit in its journey; it was a particularly hot summer in Camelot.
He broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
Prince Arthur Pendragon, it read. Arthur immediately grew suspicious. There was no date. If it was meant for him as a prince, it should have been given to him years ago. But if it were mixed up in his documents now, however, it must have just arrived. He continued reading:
I hope this letter finds you well. Unfortunately, I am compelled to be the bearer of ill news, my lord, as I have shocking information. It is about your manservant, Merlin.
As I am sure you are aware, Merlin comes from a small village called Ealdor on the border of Essitir, Cenred's kingdom. But you must know that Merlin is not all he seems. I am loathe to inform you that Merlin has betrayed you. He is a spy for Cenred, sent by the king to learn of Camelot and its rulers' weaknesses. He has grown close to you, pretended to be your loyal servant, perhaps even, dare I say, your friend. But, treacherous as he is, Merlin keeps vigilant contact with Cenred, feeding him information through complicated code.
I warn you now to prevent a war, my lord.
Please do with this information as you will. I trust you will make the right decision, young princeling.
There was no complimentary closing, no signature to identify the sender. The whole letter was ridiculous. Merlin was no spy, especially not for Cenred. Cenred had died years ago, in any case. Even if Merlin had been a traitor, there was nothing he could do now.
And though Arthur knew all this, though he knew the letter was completely foolish and could not possibly be true, he was angry. No, he was furious. No. He was enraged.
The parchment was crumpled in his hands, breaking the wax seal into pieces. Arthur furrowed his brow and set his jaw, staring down at it. Merlin was a spy. A traitor. A liar. He had betrayed Arthur. The king would not stand for it. Not after Morgana and Agravaine. Not after Uther's death. Not after all that he'd been through. Merlin would pay.
After a brewing moment, which intensified his negative feelings, Arthur pushed himself up and fetched the hidden rope. He secured one end tightly around the bedpost, then sat on the corner of his bed with his back to the door. If Merlin entered he would not see Arthur carefully knotting the noose. The king worked to school his face so that Merlin would not immediately sense anything wrong. It wouldn't do for the traitor to make a quick escape.
But Arthur finished the noose without interruption, and he set it on the floor out of immediate sight to await its time of need. He stood and opened the window to feel the breeze against his burning skin. He was so angry he felt as though he were on fire. The king stood still as a statue, watching the sun ascend higher in the blue sky. He wanted nothing more than to tear through the castle searching for his treacherous manservant, but he knew that Merlin had befriended many people, who would stand to protect him. That wouldn't do. He needed to punish Merlin in private. There was no need to involve the council, or anyone else, for that matter. Merlin was obviously guilty, the letter had stated as much.
After an hour of working out a plan of action, and running different scenarios through his head, the door banged open behind him. Arthur didn't so much as blink.
"Oh," Merlin said cheerily. "You're already up. Good for you, Sire." There was that biting sarcasm in his title. Now Arthur knew that it was not in good spirit that he used it - he was mocking the king. "And you've even dressed yourself!"
Arthur heard Merlin set his breakfast tray down on the table. "Believe it or not, Merlin," he said, keeping up the pretense that all was well when it was very, in fact, not, "I don't need you."
"Oh, I think you wouldn't last a single day without me, Arthur."
At that, Arthur turned. Merlin had finished setting the table and went, with an exasperated look at the mess, to make the bed. That was when Arthur made his move. Before Merlin could see the rope, Arthur swiftly moved and blindsided Merlin as he bent to grab the bedclothes.
Merlin stumbled back, looking quite surprised. He turned and met Arthur's steely gaze with wide, hurt eyes. Arthur struck again, this time catching Merlin in the chest. The air whooshed out of the manservant's lungs, and his hands came up to brace himself as he flew back into the table. Arthur's breakfast clattered to the floor. The king did not pause, and was not deterred at Merlin's fearful expression. He couldn't give the traitor time to gather his wits about him.
Arthur's next punch sent Merlin sprawling to the floor. He looked dazed and confused, and was too stricken to defend himself. A boot to the ribs, to the stomach, to the back, to the face. Then Arthur was on his knees, straddling Merlin. He sat heavily on him to hold him down, and beat him mercilessly with his fists. He felt the resistance as the ring he wore tore flesh, felt the bruises forming on his knuckles from the sheer force he used.
Merlin had somehow managed to suck in enough breath to cry out with each hit. He tried to shield himself with his arms, gasping out Arthur's name. "Arthur - stop! What are you - Arthur! Arthur!"
But Arthur didn't stop, not until a punch that made Merlin's head snap back and hit the hard floor made the traitor go limp for a moment, blue eyes unfocused. Arthur quickly stood and grabbed Merlin by the scruff of his neck. He had to drag him around to the other side of the bed to reach the noose. From there he could go to the window, and put an end to Merlin's betrayal.
As Arthur slipped the noose over Merlin's bleeding head, he seemed to gather his senses about him and started his struggle anew. "Arthur," he choked out past the blood filling his mouth, "stop." Blood dripped from both nostrils into his mouth, mingling with the hot blood from his bitten tongue. He was sure several of his teeth were loose from the pummeling he had just received, and his left eye was already swollen shut. Both of his lips were split, and the blood trickling down his chin stained his blue shirt. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to talk, it hurt to think. "Arthur," he repeated imploringly.
A rough hand clenched around his throat and slammed his already throbbing head back into the bedpost. "That's my lord, to you," Arthur hissed, tightening his grip.
Merlin choked, eyes bulging. "M-my lor-d," he gasped, and Arthur removed his hand. Merlin bowed his head, wheezing.
"You'll hang for your crimes, traitor," Arthur said, double-checking the knot on the noose and tightening it.
Merlin looked horribly frightened as he suddenly became aware of the rope around his neck. His eyes immediately went to the open window, then back to Arthur. "No, no," he uttered. "Arthur, I'm not-"
A sharp slap sent Merlin sprawling, but Arthur tugged him back with the rope, choking the manservant. "Don't you dare speak my name with your vile tongue!"
Merlin gasped for air, clearly panicked. "I'm not a traitor! I've never betrayed you, my lord," he said desperately, clutching the front of Arthur's shirt.
Arthur brushed his manservant's hands aside. "I know everything now, Merlin," he said, standing and glaring down at him. "You've been spying, feeding Camelot's secrets to the enemies."
"Huh?" Merlin looked horrified and bewildered. "No, Ar-my lord, I've never-"
"Silence!" The king kicked Merlin hard, and a rib audibly snapped. Merlin screamed in agony, curling into himself. "I know you have," Arthur seethed, stomping on Merlin's leg. Another crack resounded through the room as his ankle gave way, but this time Merlin had no air with which to cry out. He managed to make a retching sound, though nothing came up. "I have reliable intel, traitor. A witness." Arthur ground his heel over the broken bone, eliciting a moan of agony, before stepping over and crouching in front of Merlin.
Each breath the shivering manservant drew was shallow and harsh in his throat. When he sensed Arthur's presence above him, he slowly turned his head to look up at him. "Pl-please," he whispered, eyes begging for mercy, for sanity. "I'm not, I would never betr-betray you."
Arthur regarded him coldly. "And here I believed you were a horrible actor, Merlin," he said. "What, when Cenred died you decided to remain as a spy in my household for future deals? How much are you rewarded, Merlin, for each precious secret? How many enemies have you conspired with?"
As Arthur spoke, Merlin shook his head, tears spilling from his bruised eyes. "No, I've never, I'm not, I swear it, Arth-my lord."
The king noticed with distaste that Merlin's blood was staining his floor. He made a mental note to have a servant clean it up later. "You say you've never betrayed me, but where's your proof?"
Merlin closed his eyes to hide his terror and dismay. It was impossible to provide proof of his innocence. Arthur grabbed Merlin's face roughly in one hand, forcing Merlin to look up at him. The manservant grunted in pain, but Arthur dug his fingers deeper.
"Please!" Merlin cried, grabbing Arthur's wrist in both his hands. But that was yet another mistake, as Arthur instigated another beating. Merlin screamed in agony as Arthur's boot made contact with his broken rib.
"Arthur!"
The king stopped and looked up, breathing heavily. "Guinevere, now is not the time."
She covered her mouth in horror as she saw Merlin writhing in pain, struggling to breathe. "What are you doing?!" Gwen cried, rushing forward to help. Her eyes landed on the noose around her friend's neck, then flew to the window, and then back. It was easy enough to fit the pieces together.
"Stay back, Guinevere," Arthur said in a warning tone. He raised his voice to be heard over Merlin's wracking coughs.
"No!" she said, pushing Arthur back and coming between the men. "How could you? Have you gone mad? Merlin is your friend!"
"Merlin is a traitor," Arthur retorted. "Now get back. He must be punished for his betrayal."
Gwen looked stricken. She turned her back to Arthur as she knelt beside Merlin and observed his wounds. "Merlin, can you hear me?" she asked, touching his shoulder gingerly. "Merlin, it's me, Gwen."
Merlin was shaking, eyes squeezed shut. His body was curled as tightly as it could be, desperately trying to alleviate his pain and to protect himself from further harm. His breathing was labored. He cracked his eyes open and looked at Gwen, terror diminishing slightly as he recognized her. If anyone would be able to make Arthur see sense, it was Gwen.
"Guinevere," Arthur said in a dangerous tone. He reached down and pulled her up roughly by her arm.
She was angrier than he'd ever seen her. But she would come around soon, after he explained. But the explanation was to come after Merlin's punishment.
Gwen slapped him. Hard.
Arthur retaliated. While he had managed to stay rooted to his spot, his strike had sent the woman sprawling to the side with a cry of shock. She hit the floor hard, winded. The queen spun herself around in time to see Arthur bend and jerk Merlin up by his raven hair.
"I find you, Merlin of Ealdor, guilty of high treason. For your crimes against the crown," he was saying as he dragged Merlin toward the window, "you shall die by hanging."
"No, Arthur!" Gwen screamed, scrambling to her feet. She grabbed the arm holding Merlin, pulling him. "He's not a traitor. Release him! Arthur!"
Arthur shoved her off of him, and she fell once more. Merlin's fingers were scrabbling at Arthur's hand, struggling to free himself. "I'm not!" he gasped desperately. "Ar'hur! Please, please, Ar'hur!"
The king heaved him up, nearly succeeding in dumping him out of the window, but a breeze Arthur was too preoccupied to feel billowed out the curtain. Merlin's hand snatched out and grabbed it, and though it tore, it saved him from certain doom.
Gwen turned towards the open door. "Guards!" she screamed shrilly, slapping her palms frantically against the floor. Tears fell fast and hard in her terror. "Guards!"
Arthur grabbed the noose and yanked it up. Merlin was putting up quite a struggle, making it difficult for the king to lift him to the window ledge. "Ar'hur, plea-ack!" he gasped, trying to fight him off. "I-I, di-hick! Ar-!"
Strong hands grabbed Arthur from behind. A quick glance back confirmed that guards had answered Gwen's calls and were restraining him. That was infuriating. Arthur was more than a match for them, but at the moment he was too busy with trying to punish someone who clearly deserved it. As a last-ditch attempt as he was pulled off, Arthur shoved Merlin toward the window, hoping he would tumble over the sill.
But instead, Merlin's head met the edge of the window with a loud crack, and he crumpled to the floor, still and silent. Arthur hoped he was dead.
"Merlin!" Gwen cried, rushing to his aid. She quickly loosened the rope and cast it aside as though it burned at the touch, revealing raw red ligatures on the soft flesh of his neck. "Merlin!"
The guards struggled with Arthur, pulling him away from the scene. He realized that they were going to take him to the dungeons, and valiantly fought them off. That freedom was short-lived as the commotion had drawn a few knights.
Gwaine only needed one glance at Merlin to turn his fury on Arthur. The last Arthur knew before meeting the knight's fist was Gwen's sobs for Gaius.
"No, no, no," Arthur was moaning, clutching his hair in his hands. He was hunched over his desk, unseeing. There was no way that could have happened. It was a lie, all fabricated by some sick, twisted, subconscious nightmare in the back of his mind. Arthur was not the one who had attacked Merlin and hit Gwen. It was impossible.
But then he blinked, shedding unkingly tears, and saw the crumpled parchment. With shaking hands, he unfolded it, heart thudding. It was just taxes, Arthur thought. Only stupid, ridiculous, boring, time-consuming...Prince Arthur Pendragon.
The horror of the memories hit him, leaving him breathless. It explained everything. Merlin's absence. Gwen's anger. The knights' anger. The state of the room. Then Arthur remembered that he'd thought there was something off about Gaius. He was angry, too. Arthur had beaten the hell out of his ward - nearly killed him.
Cold fear gripped him as a new thought entered his head: What if Merlin hadn't made it? He remembered the sickening crack as Merlin's head had made contact with the window ledge, the way his body had instantly slackened and crumpled, the way Gwen had cradled his still form.
Arthur shoved himself away from the desk, toppling his chair. His headache, which hadn't left him, steered him off course, but he changed course to his door and flung it open. He nearly stumbled into the wall, but recovered instantaneously. Arthur practically flew down the stairs, taking three at a time. He had to know, had to know, had to know. Merlin couldn't be dead. He wouldn't die. Merlin was too Merlin to die.
Arthur would never forgive himself if Merlin died. He would never forgive himself if Merlin lived, either. He would never forgive himself, ever. Merlin hadn't deserved what he'd endured. The poor man had been confused, and terrified, and hurt. By Arthur's hands. It was Arthur's fault, all his fault.
In a matter of moments, he was at Gaius' door, panting harshly. Without knocking, he pushed inside. "Merlin!" he screamed. He half expected to be greeted by the sight of Merlin at the table with a thick blanket wrapped around his scrawny shoulders, like the time he had drunk poison for Arthur. But the room was painfully devoid of his presence.
"Sire!" uttered Gaius, dropping a vial he had been holding. He immediately looked concerned and went to the king's aid, as did Gwen, who had been helping Gaius, as she was wont to do with some of her free time.
"Merlin!" Arthur yelled once more, ignoring both of them and looking around wildly. The patient's bed and Gaius' bed were both vacant. His eyes locked onto the back room door and he moved toward it.
Gaius and Gwen looked horrified.
"No!" Gwen said, throwing herself recklessly in front of him. "Arthur, you can't! I won't let you."
Gaius was already hobbling quickly to the door as though to block it himself.
Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion. Then he realized that they thought he had come back to finish Merlin off. But if they thought that, then that at least meant Merlin was alive. Arthur's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, head in his hands. He drew in a shaky breath. "Thank god," he said softly. "He's alive, right? He's alive."
Gwen, after only a split second's hesitation, knelt in front of him and gently lowered his hand. When she saw that he was crying, tears fell from her eyes as well. "You remember," she said.
Arthur nodded, vaguely aware that Gaius had come back from the steps leading to Merlin's room. "I remember," he agreed, looking miserable. He looked up at Gaius. "Is he...Will he...?"
Gaius looked at him solemnly. "He has yet to wake. Until he does, I cannot be sure, Sire."
Arthur closed his eyes to hide his dismay. "When will he wake?" he asked hoarsely.
Gaius shuffled away without replying, starting whatever tonic he had been working on anew. Gwen sighed and helped Arthur to the nearest stool. Arthur sadly looked at the bruise marring Gwen's cheek, and reached out to her, but then hesitated. She smiled slightly and took his hand in her own, bringing it to her face to cup her cheek.
"I'm so sorry, Guinevere," he said, eyes watering.
Gwen shook her head. "Arthur," she began gently, and he had never been so glad to hear his name from her lips, "why did you think Merlin was a traitor?" There was the dreaded question.
He shrugged helplessly. Gaius was obviously listening, though he said nothing. "I was sitting at my desk, looking through the documents when I came across a letter. It was addressed to me - well, addressed to Prince Arthur Pendragon."
Gwen's brow furrowed. "But you haven't been a prince for years."
Arthur nodded, fully aware of the fact. "It was strange. The content of the letter made no sense. It said that Merlin was a spy for Cenred, and that he'd been feeding information about Camelot and me to him for years. But that's impossible."
By that time, Gaius had come into the conversation. "Sire, who sent you the letter?"
"It was not signed," Arthur replied. "And I didn't recognize the seal. It looked strange."
"Strange?" the old physician prompted.
"It was like," Arthur moved his hands as he searched for the words to describe it, but then they fell back into his lap. "I don't know," he admitted. "Just strange. I'd show it to you, but I destroyed it shortly after reading the letter."
"Could you draw it, Arthur?" Gwen asked, looking between Gaius and her husband. "If you could, then Gaius might recognize it, and we'd figure out who sent the letter."
Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I can."
Gaius fetched a spare sheet of parchment and a stump of charcoal. He stepped back politely, but watched intently as Arthur made a few tentative marks. As he made more strokes, they became more confident, and Arthur deepened the value of the previous marks. The king replicated the symbol easily enough, and then handed them back to Gaius.
"I've seen this before," Gaius said, eyes glazing over as he thought back to when and where he had.
"What is it?" Arthur asked.
But Gaius had already turned away, muttering under his breath. He made his way to the piles of books in one corner, tossing the ones he didn't need aside after rifling through their contents. Arthur's eyes fell upon Merlin's door again.
His queen followed his gaze and she looked pityingly at him. "He's not woken yet," she said, "but I think it would be all right if you went in to see him for a moment."
Arthur looked uncertain. "What if he wakes while I'm there?"
Gwen sighed. "Arthur, I don't think he will...Remember when Morgana had fallen down the stairs?"
The horrible image of Morgana lying on Gaius' patient bed as he pulled silk stitches through the gash on her temple impacted his mind. They had been told that there was nothing to be done, short of a miracle. He was no fool. Magic had been used to bring her back. Suddenly, it was Merlin lying on the bed instead of Morgana, face unnaturally pale.
"That bad?" he asked weakly.
She nodded reluctantly, casting her eyes towards Gaius, who was fervently leafing through a particularly heavy tome. Then she stood and, with Arthur's hand in her own, led him to the back room. Arthur's steps were slow and small, as he was averse to seeing what he had done to his dearest friend, for, though he would never admit it, that was what Merlin was to him. They went up the stone steps, and Gwen entered the room first, blocking Arthur's view.
She stepped to one side, fingers still interlocked with Arthur's, and bit her lower lip to stay her tears. Arthur stood stock still in the doorway, staring in horror.
Merlin looked dead.
If it weren't for the stuttering rise and fall of his chest underneath the mound of blankets, Arthur would have very well believed him to be dead. His face was swollen and bruised, with charcoal black smudges underneath his eyes. Some sort of paste was smeared on the cuts and on his split lips. Arthur's finger started to itch, and he shamefacedly glanced down at it to see that it was the finger wearing his prized ring troubling him. The ring he had worn while mercilessly beating helpless, clumsy, friendly, undeserving Merlin.
The blankets, pulled up to his chin, hid the rest of Merlin's body from Arthur. Just as well, since the king didn't think he'd be able to stomach the damage. Nevertheless, he took a few steps closer, tears threatening to burst forth.
As he came nearer he saw the stitches that held closed Merlin's right temple, at the hairline. Where Merlin had struck the window sill. Where Arthur had pushed him with all of his strength, intending to kill. If it was anything like Morgana's predicament, his skull was cracked beneath the wound, keeping him asleep. Supposedly forever.
That thought shattered all pretense of holding himself together, and Arthur fell to his knees at Merlin's bedside. "I'm sorry, Merlin, I'm so sorry, so very sorry," he uttered, unable to tear his eyes away. Gwen dropped beside him, allowing her tears to flow too, and wrapped her arms around his slumped shoulders.
Merlin, on his deathbed, did not respond. Arthur loathed every fiber of his own being.
"Sire," Gaius called from the main room.
Arthur sniffled and ran a hand down his face to clear it of the wetness, though he did a poor job of it. Neither Gwen nor Gaius commented on it as he pushed himself to his feet and went to see what Gaius had discovered.
"It's a rune, Sire," Gaius said, tapping a drawing of the same symbol Arthur had made. "From the Old Religion. It's used to bind strong enchantments, and when broken the enchantment is released."
"I was enchanted?" Arthur said. He didn't know whether to be overwhelmingly relieved or devastated. For a moment, he imagined Merlin laughing and joking that at least Arthur hadn't married a troll. But Merlin was currently dying.
Gaius nodded an affirmative. "It seems that someone wanted to hurt you."
Arthur looked as though Gaius had just offered him another vile-tasting tonic. "They've failed, then. Merlin was the one who was...not me."
Gaius shook his head. "Whoever sent this knew how close you and Merlin are. By hurting Merlin, I dare say you are hurt as well." He placed the tome down, refusing to meet Arthur's eyes.
"Well," Arthur said, "we can fix it now, right?"
The old man looked startled. "Fix what, Sire?"
"Merlin," Arthur said. "We can undo the enchantment, and Merlin will wake up and get better."
Somber understanding on Gaius' face did little to reassure the young king. "The enchantment is already undone, Sire," he said gently. "It has run its course. But I'm afraid what has been done cannot be fixed so easily."
"Magic, then," Arthur said immediately. "Gaius, you used magic to help Morgana. I give you permission to use it to save Merlin."
Gwen's jaw dropped, and her stunned eyes went to the physician. But Gaius shook his head. "It is true that magic is what brought Morgana back, Sire, but it was not I who wielded it."
"Then who?" Arthur said. "We'll call for him. He has to help."
Gaius was silent for a long moment. "I'm afraid you won't find him of any use."
"Who was it, Gaius?" Arthur demanded, clenching his fists at his side. "I cannot allow Merlin to die. He has too much work to do. The stables need to be mucked out, my chambers cleaned, and my armor polished..." His voice broke off, ending his rambling.
Gaius only watched Arthur with sympathetically inclined eyebrows. "I'm afraid it is up to Merlin now, Sire."
Arthur exhaled heavily through his nose, then nodded stiffly and squared his shoulders. "Where are the knights?"
"Leon, since you were unwell, took over for time being," Gwen said a bit cautiously. "They've gone to the training field." She didn't mention that Gaius had sternly suggested it so that the knights, particularly Gwaine, would stop hovering around the room and getting in the way.
"Good." Arthur bobbed his head a few times, looking a little lost. "I suppose I'll go and join them, then." He dawdled a few moments longer, unsure of what he was waiting for, but reluctant to leave nonetheless. But when Gwen and Gaius said nothing, he gave another short nod and strolled out with the most kingly air he could muster.
Before he could lose his resolve, he strode purposefully to the armory, fists swinging at his hips. Once inside, he found himself alone. Usually when he dragged Merlin along, he would be accompanied by complaints and driveling, but now Merlin was not there. The sickening crack of the manservant's ankle under Arthur's boot made a shudder race down his spine. Merlin wouldn't be walking anywhere anytime soon. He shook his head and surveyed the room for adequate armor. Blue eyes fell on his armor on the table, where Merlin had probably left it after polishing it.
It was difficult to put it on himself, but after half an hour of struggling, he managed it and grabbed a sword on his way out the door. The armor was loose in some places, but he knew it would hold. In the distance, he could hear the clanging of swords that meant they were sparring. Arthur identified the men by the sounds of their exertion: It was Gwaine pitted against Elyan.
Arthur joined the knights on the sideline, arms folded over his chest. It did not go unnoticed that he stood a bit farther from them than usual. They also noted the dark circles underneath his eyes, and the slight furrow of his brow that meant something was bothering him. None of the knights were under any delusion that it was Gwaine's horrible footwork or Elyan's too-wide handle on the hilt of his blade.
Elyan caught sight of the king and his movement stopped for a split second as his eyes darkened, but then Gwaine drew him back into the fight with a swift strike. Arthur stiffened a little. Elyan would be furious, he supposed, seeing how Arthur had laid hands on Gwen. Sure, Arthur had banished Gwen before, but he'd never harmed her.
The dark-skinned knight had lost his focus at Arthur's arrival and was easily incapacitated. Gwaine, however, did not gloat in victory as he was wont to do, and extended a hand to help his fallen comrade up. Elyan took it and then nodded stiffly to Arthur. His friend turned and saw Arthur, and his face immediately contorted in rage.
Arthur resisted the urge to take a step back and draw his blade as Gwaine approached, sword in hand. Percival, ever the compromiser, met Gwaine before he made it to the king, and held him back, though his eyes were stormy as well.
"You bastard!" Gwaine screamed, spittle flying from his lips.
Arthur visibly flinched. The knight had always been rude and condescending, but never so forthwith with the royal.
"It was Merlin!" Gwaine said. "Merlin! He's done nothing but help you, you sorry excuse for a-a-a!" He seemed to be unable to find a harsh enough word to describe Arthur, who was feeling worse by the second but refused to show it. So instead, he made do with pulling himself out of Percival's tight grasp, wrenching his gauntlet from his hand, and throwing it down at the king's feet. "Pick it up," he seethed.
For a moment, Arthur didn't move, and Leon looked as though he were going to involve himself in the matter. The situation would be difficult to defuse, he knew. Then Arthur bent at the waist and picked up the gauntlet, and tossed it back to the knight.
"How about right here, right now?" he offered.
Gwaine nodded stiffly, turning on his heel and marching back to the middle ground where the duel would take place. Arthur followed, keeping his eyes straight ahead to avoid the gazes of his knights. As was customary, they both stood at the appropriate distance and took their stances. Arthur kept a stoic expression, while Gwaine made his murderous intention clear on his.
"Sir Leon," Arthur said, his voice commanding and steady.
The curly-haired knight took a step forward, and though he looked reluctant, raised his hand and signaled for them to begin.
Gwaine leapt forward with a snarl, swinging his sword hazardously. Arthur stumbled back, desperately trying to block the blows. The knight was not holding back. On the sidelines, the others watched apprehensively.
A clang rang out through the clearing as a blow struck Arthur's breastplate. Winded, Arthur staggered back, but did not relinquish his hold on his weapon. He raised his blade to meet Gwaine's as he swung again, but the sword was knocked from his grip. Gwaine shoved his shoulder violently into Arthur's already bruised chest, sending him hard to the dirt. Arthur lay still, momentarily stunned and unable to breathe. Gwaine was panting harshly, watching the king coldly with his sword twitching at his side. When Arthur finally rolled onto his side and coughed, he stepped back, victorious.
"Why did you do it?" Gwaine asked coolly.
Arthur slowly sat up, one hand snaking underneath the relatively loose armor to nurse his ache.
"Sire?" Leon said tentatively, coming to Arthur's side.
Arthur shook his head, and raised his free hand as a silent command for someone to help him up - something he rarely, if ever, did. Leon was the one who pulled him to his feet. The king slowly, from his hunched position, straightened his back, though he kept his eyes on the ground.
"If you'll all follow me," he said. "We're holding a meeting of the round table. I will explain everything there."
Gwaine, directly disobeying, led the way to the council room. His back seemed impossibly straight, and Arthur could see, for a moment, the born leader the knight was. It was possibly one of the longest ten minutes in Arthur's life, the walk back to the castle.
Only once all of the knights had taken their seats around the table did the king clear his throat to speak. It wasn't to get their attention, as he'd already had it. It wasn't to imply the importance of what he was going to say. It was an attempt to clear the lump that had formed in his throat, to cease the burning behind his eyeballs.
"I was enchanted," he blurted.
Gwaine's bark of derisive laughter echoed throughout the hall. "Enchanted," he scoffed. "Why would anyone enchant you to kill Merlin? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
Arthur clenched his jaw, but allowed Gwaine to speak out without repercussions. If he were honest with himself, he knew it was because he deserved every bit of the emotional turmoil he felt. "I don't know," he admitted, forcing his voice to remain unwavering and strong. "What I do know is that someone sent me a letter, which, of course, I opened. Upon opening it, the unidentified seal was broken, and it released an enchantment, which affected me.
"Gaius and I have already discussed it, and he agrees that it was an enchantment, and that I and Merlin were the intended targets. Whoever sent it knew that by hurting Merlin, I, and all of you, would be deeply affected. I can only assume that this means something is coming. Whether it is an attack or something else, I do not know. I do know that we should be prepared." He ignored the painful throbbing in his chest, keeping his hands clasped behind his back to hide the fact that they were shaking.
The knights regarded him silently for an eternal moment, even Gwaine.
Leon was the first to speak, "If it was truly an enchantment, Sire, and I do believe you, then you cannot be held responsible for all that has happened."
Elyan's eyes slowly opened. He had closed them as he collected his bearings and processed what the king had said. "I forgive you, Sire," he said, turning his head to look at Arthur. "But I do hope you've apologized to Gwen. And that when Merlin wakes, he receives one as well."
Arthur nodded to him, no longer trusting his voice. It was all he could do keep his lower lip from quivering as well.
"I forgive you, Sire," Percival said. "I say we hunt down the sender and give them a piece of our minds."
He received several agreements.
Arthur looked to Gwaine, careful to keep expectance out of his demeanor. The knight took a deep breath. "I do not forgive you," he said. "And I won't. Not until my dear friend Merlin has woken."
"Very well, then," was Arthur's reply. "In any case, we need must prepare. Make sure guards are stationed throughout the castle and lower town. Question anyone who enters the city after dark. Enforce curfew until further notice. Dismissed."
"Yes, Sire," came a chorus of voices. Arthur could have sworn he heard a sarcastic undertone of "yes, princess," but he was not entirely sure. The knights swept out of the room to relay his orders to others. Only once they were gone did Arthur sink into his chair, wincing from the rather tender bruise. But he didn't dare complain about it. He deserved that pain. It was atonement for what he had done, unwittingly or not, to Merlin. Poor, undeserving, happy Merlin.
After a while of brooding, Arthur finally pushed himself up and retired to his chambers for the day.
The next few days passed without incident. Everything was business as usual, and Arthur immersed himself in his kingly work in an attempt to keep his mind from the image of Merlin's prone, sickly form on the bed. He was long past exhausted, but he continued to push himself, desperate to forget the memories that were fuel for his plaguing nightmares.
So tired he was that it wasn't until halfway through his evening meal that he actually became aware of Gwen's presence beside him, and that she was picking at her plate. Arthur asked her what was wrong, but she shook her head and refused to look up at him, admonishing him to eat. So he did, to please her. It was the least he could do, after what he'd done. A few minutes after that, his fork fell from his grasp, fingers tingling.
Shocked blue eyes met guilty brown ones. Before Arthur's eyes drooped and he slumped forward, Gwen reached forward to support him, calling for a guard. He spied the empty glass vial in her lap, and then knew no more.
When he woke the next morning, he felt a bit better, but was rather cross with his wife. She'd slipped a sleeping draught into his food. Arthur supposed he must have looked very terrible. With a roll of his eyes he noted that he was alone in his bed, and that the sun was streaming through the curtains. The torn one had long since been replaced.
The king sighed and tossed the comforter off of himself, then extricated his legs from them. He swung them over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching. Arthur decided, since he felt a headache coming on, to go and see Gaius. He told himself that it wasn't just an excuse to go and see Merlin.
After dressing himself in the clothes he'd found lying out near his changing screen, he trudged out of his room. He ignored the platters of breakfast foods awaiting him. It was a long walk to Gaius' chambers. The physician had never been so far before. When did he move so far away from Arthur? And yet the room looked exactly the same as it had. Perhaps Arthur's rooms had been moved. He didn't know anymore.
As he approached Gaius' rooms, however, the young king suddenly got cold feet and slowed to a halt. He could hear the telltale sounds that Gaius was bustling around inside, and a voice that sounded a bit like Gwaine's. Arthur spun on his heel and made his way to the council room. He needed to attend to kingdom business. It was very important. Not that Merlin wasn't important, it was just Arthur, as king, needed to do certain things before making time for others. He had Camelot to look after.
The council meeting seemed endless and trivial. Arthur played his part, though nothing stuck in his head. He could have passed a law to put all firstborn sons to death for all he knew of what came from the meeting. His thoughts kept returning to Merlin. His cries of pain. His pleas for Arthur's mercy. The crack of his ribs; the crunch of his ankle. The fear in his eyes. Fear of Arthur. Something he'd never thought Merlin would have.
Arthur adjourned the meeting, and was the first to leave. He passed Gaius' chambers. The guilt was eating him away, and he didn't think he could stomach facing the old man. So he passed the room and continued onwards to his own.
He was surprised to find Gwen in his bedchamber, waiting for him. She was standing at the window, looking out, much as he had the day he had been enchanted. The king shut the door softly behind him, the click hardly audible. But the queen heard it and turned.
"Guinevere, what's wrong?" Arthur asked immediately upon seeing the tears on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Arthur," she said, welcoming his embrace and wrapping her arms around his midsection. Arthur wanted to pull away so he didn't have to hear what news she was going to bestow upon him. But he found that he couldn't, so he settled with trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "I've just," Gwen was saying in a quavering voice, "come from Gaius'. He-he says...He doesn't think...doesn't think Merlin will live."
Arthur's mind reeled with blankness. "What?" he heard someone utter, though he was sure he and Gwen were the only two present.
Gwen pulled back slightly to look up tearfully at him. "It's been a week," she said. "His body is wasting away, and since he hasn't woken he can't eat. We've tried giving him some broth and water, but he can't swallow much...Arthur?"
Arthur's arms had fallen from her to hang limply at his sides. His eyes stared ahead into nothingness. When Gwen called his name again and shook him gently by the shoulders, he blinked and seemed to come back to himself. The king shook his head and stepped back.
"I have to go," he said in a minute voice.
"What?" Gwen breathed, brow furrowing. "Where?"
Arthur turned and left, shaking Gwen's hand off of his arm. She didn't follow him, but once he was gone she turned back to the window and resumed crying. A few moments later, she saw Arthur's figure briskly walk across the courtyard to the stables. A barebacked horse was led out, and Arthur heaved himself onto it and galloped away without looking back. Gwen watched him go until she could see him no longer, then sank to the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest.
Arthur didn't know where he was going. He was too grief-stricken to care. He'd taken a horse, he didn't know whose, and without bothering to saddle it rode out of the city. He needed to get away. Away from Camelot, away from Merlin. Away from Merlin's death. He'd killed Merlin. He'd killed his best friend.
The king could feel hot tears coursing down his face, but he didn't wipe them away. God, how he hated himself. It should have been Arthur lying on his deathbed, not Merlin. He was going to find whoever had sent that letter to him, whoever had sent that enchantment. They had used Arthur, used his hands to kill his best friend in all the world.
An endless roiling of hatred spun in his head and stomach. He didn't know how long it had been, but he could feel the horse straining underneath him. The horse needed a rest. So Arthur, when they broke through the trees into a familiar-but-not-quite-familiar clearing reigned the horse in and brought it to a halt. Its sides heaved, and it spluttered indignantly as he led it to a tree and tethered it.
Once that was done, Arthur blinked to shed the last few tears from his burning eyes and looked around. Now he recognized where he was. It was the place that he, Merlin, and a few of his bravest knights had ridden out in a last-ditch attempt to kill the dragon. Of course, Arthur had defeated it, dealing it a mortal blow before it flew away to die alone. He'd never given much thought to the fact that Merlin, who'd had no armor or weapon, had lived to tell the tale. How could Merlin survive time after time all the perils he'd faced, only to die at Arthur's hands?
Arthur rubbed his face with both hands. His self-loathing was threatening to consume him. It didn't sound so bad. Perhaps Arthur could die out here, and they'd have a double funeral. No, he had a kingdom to run. He couldn't leave it all to Gwen. How could he, after everything he'd put her through?
"Arthur Pendragon."
The king's head snapped up in surprise, eyes darting around in search of the voice's owner. He appeared to be alone. "Who's there?" he demanded in a deceptively clear tone.
The voice chuckled as though it knew something he didn't. "How surprising to meet you here, young king. Usually it is the other one who comes seeking advice."
"Advice?" Arthur repeated dumbly. "I did not come for that. I came to clear my head. But I suppose I should be heading back to Camelot now."
Arthur turned around to fetch the horse, only to find that the branch he'd tied it to was broken off and missing, along with the horse. He cursed under his breath. That was a mistake lousy manservants like Merlin made, not kings. Just as quickly as he thought that he felt more miserable than before. Merlin would never have the chance to make that mistake again.
"One moment, young king," said the voice. "I shall be arriving momentarily."
Before Arthur could ask what that meant, a strange sound reached his ears, and he strained to listen to it. It wasn't until the creature was upon him that he realized what it was. He stumbled back in horror, hand fumbling at his waist for his sword.
The golden dragon, the dragon he'd killed years ago, landed before him in the clearing, buffeting him with the wind from his wings. Then Arthur saw that he'd forgotten to grab his sword, and his belt was devoid of any weapon. So the king had no choice but to make a break for the trees. A long, golden tail dropped heavily in his path.
"Calm yourself, young king," said the voice with a touch of humor.
Arthur looked around, hiding his fear behind a mask of anger. "Who are you? Show yourself. Call back your dragon."
The great dragon blinked, head jerking back in surprise. Then his maw opened wide, showing rows of razor sharp white teeth. A coughing sound as the dragon threw its head back, which after a moment Arthur recognized as laughter. The dragon was laughing at him!
Now he really was angry.
"I am owned by no man," the dragon said seriously once he had returned his gaze to Arthur. "I am Kilgharrah. You seem surprised, young king, and rightfully so, that I am alive."
"Yes," Arthur said, folding his arms defiantly and willing his knees not to tremble. "So how are you alive?"
Kilgharrah regarded him for a long moment. "There will be a time for you to ask questions, young king, but for now I will ask some of you. What's happened to your manservant, Arthur?"
Arthur balked, stern expression faltering for a moment before it hardened again. "How do you know of him? Why do you want to know?"
"Hm," the dragon said. "He and I have gotten to know each other quite well over the years. Although he does tend to only come when he needs assistance."
"Merlin?" Arthur's face contorted in disbelief. "Consorting with a dragon?"
Kilgharrah blinked at him, and Arthur wondered if he was hiding something. "Yes, Merlin," he said. "And now, you."
"I am not consorting with you!"
"Not at the moment." Before Arthur could retort, the dragon continued, "Young king, I would not have shown myself to you were the situation not dire. I can sense Merlin fading."
"You sense him?" Arthur repeated.
Kilgharrah sighed, hot air brushing past Arthur's body. "I suppose I'll have to reveal a secret in order for you to believe me. Perhaps you remember a man named Balinor?"
"The last dragonlord," Arthur confirmed. "He did not make it back to Camelot, and I had to come defeat you myself."
"Yes, yes," Kilgharrah said, and Arthur could have sworn he heard a bit of sarcasm. "I'll be blunt with you, young king, to save time for all of us. As you know, dragonlords possess a kindred bond with dragons, and can bend us to their will. Such power is transferred from father to son upon the father's death. Although, long ago, there was one exception in which a family line of dragonlord abilities were passed from mother to daughter, but that's a story for another time."
"Balinor had a son?" Arthur interrupted, mind spinning. "His son sent you away?"
"That is correct, young king!" Kilgharrah said appraisingly. "And now he is dying, for reasons unknown to me. But I will hear of the reason once he is saved."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Balinor's son," the dragon said, lowering toward the ground so that one gargantuan eye was level with Arthur, "is Merlin."
"Impossible," Arthur dismissed immediately. "I would know. Merlin would have told me."
"Would he?" Kilgharrah said, raising his head again. "I can assure you, young king, that it is true. Merlin is much more than he seems. It was he who saved Camelot from destruction at my talons, not you."
Arthur's jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. "All right," he conceded after a moment. "So Merlin is the last dragonlord, and he's dying. But Gaius says there is nothing to be done. Merlin will die, and it's..." He broke off, not willing to confess his sins to a magical creature.
The dragon looked at him for a few long moments. "How alike you and Merlin are," he said at last. "Yet so different. You are the sun, and Merlin the moon. One cannot exist without the other, much like two sides of a coin."
"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Arthur demanded sharply. "Merlin is dead."
Kilgharrah chuckled. "There is still time yet, young king. If you are willing to set aside your upbringing, set aside your hatred of me and what I am, I can save the boy."
Arthur's jaw dropped involuntarily, but he quickly caught himself and closed it. "Wh-What do you mean?"
"Like Merlin came to save Morgana years ago, despite my warnings to let her die," Arthur visibly flinched at the mention of his half-sister and the revelation that Merlin had wielded the magic to save her, "I can give you the power to save him."
"How?" Arthur blurted. He was desperate. He trusted the dragon about as far as he could throw him, but so far he seemed to be the only one able and willing to help, so it was his best bet.
Kilgharrah shifted his weight, tail swinging to rest along the other side of the clearing. "I will grant you magic enough to heal Merlin. I presume his condition is much like Morgana's?"
Arthur nodded numbly. "If...If you grant me magic...I will be..."
"Temporary magic, young king," Kilgharrah said. "Once you use it for the purpose it was intended, it will be gone, and you will no longer bear my magic. It was the same for Merlin."
"I'll do it," Arthur said pleadingly. "If it will save Merlin, I will do it. I will use magic, resort to sorcery. I will throw away everything I've ever been taught, if I can just save Merlin. Please."
"Of course, young king," Kilgharrah said kindly. "You can tell Merlin that I have revealed him as a dragonlord, and he will likely come to berate me for it." He chuckled before returning to his serious demeanor. "Remember, young king. This magic is temporary, and it is to be used only to heal Merlin. Anything else, and I will come incinerate you."
Arthur gulped at the menacing tone, but nodded invigoratingly. "I swear on my father's grave," he said.
The corners of the dragon's mouth turned upwards, and Arthur only had a second to realize the irony of his promise, as Kilgharrah leaned forward and blew a plume of hot, golden air over him. Arthur immediately felt the effects. Pleasant, warm energy thrummed just beneath his skin. His fingers, toes, and nose tingled, though not painfully.
"Go now, young king," Kilgharrah said, spreading his wings. "Merlin is fading by the minute. I expect to see you again someday."
With that, the dragon beat the still air and levitated into the sky. With a single powerful stroke, Kilgharrah swiftly zoomed away and disappeared over the tree tops. Arthur watched him go in awe. A moment later he shook himself, and turning toward the white walls of the city in the distance, sprinted away. He could save Merlin now.
Arthur ran farther than he'd ever run before, probably rivaling the twenty-six miles of Pheidippides in the Greek Battle of Marathon. But he shoved that thought from his mind; now was not the time for Geoffrey of Monmouth's ramblings on ancient history. Even though his lungs screamed for air, Arthur did not stop. He did not stop when he passed Sir Leon, who called out to him in surprise. He did not stop when he nearly collided with a maid, nor did he apologize. He had to get to Merlin. He could save Merlin now.
Gaius and Gwen jumped up from the table, both with a hand over their respective heart, and gaped at Arthur's frantic appearance as he burst into the room without warning. Yet he ignored them in favor of barging into Merlin's room. Gwaine was sitting at Merlin's bedside, tears streaming down his cheeks. Arthur said nothing to the surprised knight, but grabbed him by his collar and threw him unceremoniously from the room. Next he slammed the door shut and quickly dragged Merlin's wardrobe over it as a barricade.
"Arthur!" Gwen cried over Gwaine's angry pounding on the door. "What are you doing?"
Arthur took a moment to catch his breath, looking down at Merlin on the bed. His face was paler than before, his breaths more shallow. At last he replied, "Putting Merlin out of his misery."
"No!" came the chorus of voices.
"Gwen, go and get the others," Gaius said. Gwaine continued to ram the door with his shoulder, desperately trying to get back to Merlin. The door splintered a bit, but didn't budge. Gaius must have pulled Gwaine away from the door because the pounding stopped and the old physician spoke. "Arthur, Sire," he said. "You must stop. Merlin is not in pain. There is still a chance he may wake. We must let him live, we must give him the chance."
Arthur ignored him, focusing solely on how to go about using the magic. He thought that perhaps it would be an instinctual thing, but now he had no clue what to do. The king could feel the magic inside him, ever-present, but commanding it forth didn't seem to work. He ever so gently placed his hand on Merlin's head, hoping that the magic would drain into him and heal him.
Arthur gasped at the feeling of power moving within him. The magic crawled toward his fingers, sending a shudder racing down the king's spine. But it was working. As Arthur watched, the horrible gash on Merlin's right temple began to close up, and he was sure that the break on his skull was mending as well. His heart soared as his knees buckled, but he kept his hand where it was, willing the magic to continue. It was dwindling more quickly now, leaving him exhausted. He was beginning to feel the effects of his run.
After a moment, Arthur allowed his hand to drop away. The magic was drained, as the dragon had said it would do. Color was returning to Merlin's face, and the gauntness had filled out a bit. He looked alive. Terrible, but alive. Arthur almost laughed, but his smile instantly disappeared as Merlin's eyes fluttered.
The king stood a bit woozily. "Merlin?" he asked softly.
The manservant's eyes cracked open, then blinked and opened wide, revealing the blue that Arthur never thought he would miss. Arthur's heart shattered into pieces when fear flashed through them. Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and he only looked more horrified, his fingers scrabbling at his throat as if expecting to find something strangling him. Oh, Arthur thought, he was expecting that.
Arthur quickly averted his gaze to look down at his hands, obviously hurt, and backed away before Merlin could work himself up into a more panicked state. Merlin appeared confused by this behavior, and stopped his movement, though that could also be explained away as exhaustion.
"You remember," Arthur stated, not expecting an answer but receiving a hesitant nod. "I'm sorry." He turned swiftly on his heel toward the door, unable to look Merlin in the eye. He felt ashamed at his cowardice, but could not find it in himself to turn back.
As Merlin watched, evidently confused to find himself back in his own room, Arthur moved the wardrobe back to where it had been. There was a frantic murmuring on the other side of the door, though the king could not make out what was being said. He pulled open the door, and Percival hardly managed to stop his momentum by digging the heels of his boots into the floor, windmilling his burly arms. Arthur blinked at him, but stepped around him to leave the room.
"Gaius," he said, "go and check on him. And one of you go to the kitchen and get the best soup for Merlin. I'm sure he's hungry." With that, Arthur left without looking back. He didn't see the incredulous looks he received from the huddled knights, Gaius, and Gwen. They broke out in large grins when they saw Merlin awake, albeit confused and weak.
Arthur retired to his chambers, instructing the guards to allow no one to enter, not even Guinevere. He needed some time alone to process all that had happened that day. He thought of the dragon's words, about Merlin being the last dragonlord, Balinor's son. The memory of Merlin crying over Balinor's dead body came back to him, and all doubt was erased from his mind. Merlin had had every right to grieve, and Arthur had tried to deny him that. God, he was such a horrible friend.
He didn't deserve Merlin's friendship, didn't deserve his loyalty. Arthur fell face-first onto his bed, wallowing in self-loathing misery. He hoped he would suffocate. But after a few moments he had to turn his head to breathe.
Arthur didn't remember falling asleep.
"Rise and shine, you lazy daisy and what have you!" said a loud, cheery voice.
The king moaned in discontent and rolled over to burrow his face into his pillow, attempting to block out the harsh light that filtered in as the curtains were thrown open. But a split second later Arthur bolted upright, looking toward the window in alarm. When he didn't see Merlin, he turned to the table in the center of the room, where the manservant was indeed setting the table with the king's breakfast.
"Merlin!" he uttered.
"That's my name," came the swift reply.
Arthur marveled that the man had shown up for work as though nothing were wrong. He even had the gall to turn his back to Arthur as he set the table, as though the king hadn't days before blindsided him.
Merlin turned with a smile that crinkled his eyes. "Good morning, Sire," he greeted.
Arthur did not return the smile, too busy trying to ascertain whether or not he was dreaming. Although Merlin was still covered in bruises and scrapes, and walked with a pronounced limp, he seemed completely normal. He supposed the dragon's magic saved his life, but there was not enough to heal all of Merlin. But nonetheless, Arthur was grateful that Merlin was alive.
"Don't worry, Gaius agreed to let me come to work as long as I don't do anything too strenuous," Merlin explained, "whatever that means. Also, thank you for healing me. Kilgharrah told me when I woke up...Aren't you going to get up? You've a busy day ahead of you!"
Arthur finally found his voice. "Why did you even come, Merlin? You can hardly hold yourself up." To prove his point he gestured to Merlin, who had resorted to using the table to support his weight.
"I didn't know how much longer you could last without me, Sire. So I figured I'd better come and help you dress. I've heard from several reliable sources that you've been walking around...indecently," Merlin whispered the last word, dramatically casting his eyes around for eavesdroppers.
Arthur's eye twitched, and he decided to play along. "Indecent? Me?" he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Who told you that?"
Merlin only laughed, eyes twinkling good-naturedly. Arthur was shocked at how unaffected Merlin seemed to be by his ordeal. Had he forgiven Arthur? He was too afraid to ask. The king got out of bed and sat at the table.
"Merlin."
"Hm?"
The king sighed dramatically, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. "This is far too much for any one man to eat by himself," he gestured to the platter before him, filled with meats, cheese, bread, and several fruits. A meal fit for a king, according to Merlin. "Why can you never get it through your thick skull? It's a waste, I swear."
Merlin rolled his eyes and moved to the bed to make it.
"Wait," Arthur said, holding up a hand.
The manservant turned back, arching an eyebrow that was far less impressive than Gaius'.
"As punishment for your insolence, Merlin," Arthur enunciated regally, "you have to sit and eat with me. Perhaps when your stomach bursts from the sheer amount of food, you will see what I am trying to tell you."
"I'm sure you could eat it all yourself, you've just finally realized you do need a diet," Merlin muttered, sinking into a seat across from Arthur.
"Did you just call me fat?"
"Of course not, Sire."
"Merlin?"
"Shut up?"
Arthur nodded in approval and dug in, and Merlin ducked his head to hide his grin. He snatched a block of cheese from the platter and went to work nibbling on it, his other hand snaking out to grab a chunk of freshly baked bread.
After a moment: "Arthur?"
"Yes, Merlin."
"I just wanted to say..." Merlin trailed off, the hand holding the bread and cheese lowering slightly. Arthur remained silent and focused solely on the plate in front of him. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a ridiculous moment he wondered if Merlin could hear it. "I just wanted to say...At least you didn't marry a troll."
Arthur snapped his head up incredulously to see Merlin struggling not to laugh. The king flushed.
"Shut up, Merlin!"
"Yes, Sire."
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is complete, for now, since it was just a quick idea I needed out of my head. Maybe someday in the future I will continue it, since Arthur and Merlin probably need to talk about the whole dragonlord thing, and the culprit who sent the enchantment is still at large, etc. etc.
Just reuploaded this since I forgot to put the italics...-.-" I'm such a loser
Anyway...yeah thanks and bye