Chapter 2: First Aid

Merlin remained motionless on the ground before Arthur. It was so surreal and nothing of what Arthur ever wanted to have to witness. Merlin had always been selfless and when it came down to it, he would die for Arthur. This much, Arthur knew. In his anguish, he hated Merlin for understanding the meaning of sacrifice so well and having the will to go through with it. Perhaps Merlin believed he was nothing more than a worthless servant and that his life mattered very little. But to Arthur, Merlin was worth way more than he'll ever know. No, Arthur couldn't hate him. He could never hate him. Merlin was probably the only person who truly understood him.

Arthur couldn't believe this was happening. It only seemed like yesterday that Merlin was complaining about mucking out the stables and doing an extra load of laundry. Despite his constant grumbling, Merlin was always kept Arthur rather amused. He had a quirky persona and often had something to say about everything regardless of whether Arthur agreed on the subject. There were times when Merlin just pressed his luck and before anyone knew it, insults would be thrown at each other. But in the end, they always managed to make amends.

It occurred to Arthur how dull life would be without the clumsy servant shadowing his every step and absentmindedly annoy him. No one else in the entire kingdom would dare call the prince a clotpole or a prat, unless they were asking to be severely beaten or hung. Merlin was different. Merlin spoke his mind and when Arthur was being a complete ass, he would make it known. As much as Arthur loathed the insults, he would give anything to hear those words come out of Merlin's mouth one more time. He missed it already. And a wave of sadness swept over him. Merlin did not deserve to die like this. Arthur could not accept it.

Arthur disturbed the thin layer of debris that settled on Merlin's earth-toned clothing with his big calloused hands. He braced himself for the worst case scenario. Just as he grabbed Merlin by the shoulder, the warlock jerked and cried out in pain.

"Merlin! You're alive!" Arthur's grim facial expression suddenly changed into a relieved one. It was by far, the longest three seconds of Arthur's life. Not realizing the extent of Merlin's injuries, he softened his grip. "Tell me you're alright," Arthur begged.

Merlin appeared to be in too much pain to give a proper reply. There was only a soft moan followed by a heart wrenching sob. Every bit of movement seemed to cause him pain and his breathing became more labored with each passing second.

"Let me see where you're wounded." Arthur's voice was oddly gentle. "I'm going to turn you over." He instructed before delicately turning him around.

Merlin whimpered painfully when Arthur moved him. The first thing Arthur noticed was the blood. Seeing so much of it covering Merlin's chest gave Arthur a frightful start. Even though Arthur had been exposed to all sorts of maiming and mutilation of man during battle and punishment, things were very different when the person lying in front of him was someone he was so close to. Arthur was so stricken with emotion and grief at the ghastly wound that he nearly got sick.

There was a large rip in Merlin's shirt under the left collar bone that exposed the place where the dagger entered his body. Blood was still oozing out of the unsightly wound and stained the tatters of his shirt. Arthur realized the foolish servant had somehow managed to pull the dagger out, most likely in a panicked state, hence, the excessive bleeding. As he turned his head, Arthur caught sight of the blood-stained jeweled dagger laying innocently a few paces from where Merlin had dropped it. Its golden hilt was smudged generously with blood, as were Merlin's hands.

Merlin's face was white and ashy, definitely not the picture of health he used to be. His eyes were glassy and barely able to stay open. He was fighting consciousness and judging by the amount of blood he'd loss, he was probably going to lose the fight soon. As the initial shock wore off, Arthur quickly untied Merlin's neckerchief and used it as a bandage to stop the bleeding. Merlin was unable to bite back the pain when Arthur pressed the wadded up fabric onto the wound. Arthur cringed like as if he felt the pain too. The wound looked bad and it worried him, but he couldn't let Merlin see his uneasiness.

"You'll be alright, Merlin. We'll get you to Gaius and he'll fix you right up." Arthur promised.

Arthur saw the defeated and exhausted look in Merlin's eyes. "I know what you're thinking, Merlin. Don't give up. Do you hear me? I forbid you to give up. You can't refuse my wishes because I'm the prince that you answer to."

Not a word passed Merlin's bloodless lips. The world spun around him in slow motion, but his heart hammered aggressively against his chest, making it hard to breathe. When he tried to move, unbearable pain shot up his left arm. Lightheaded, he wasn't sure how much longer he could obey his master. He always hoped that when he died, it would be a painless death. It never occurred to him that he could die this way – painfully slow and messy. Seeing the blood truly frightened him. Merlin shouldn't be afraid of blood, especially since he followed Gaius many times as he tended to wounded knights and soldiers of the King's army. He'd seen so much that he should be immune to the very sight of blood. But this was his own blood coming out of his own body. The thought of bleeding to death terrified him. Merlin decided that this was an awful way to die. This was torture.

Physically and emotionally drained, his eyes told Arthur to leave him – that it was over and to just let him die. But somehow, deep in his heart, he didn't want Arthur to go. He wanted Arthur to stay so he wouldn't be so alone and scared when death came. With Arthur there, the idea of dying didn't seem so bad. At least he would have died in the comforting arms of the person he considered his best friend. He kept telling himself that this was worth it. This was for a greater good. He promised that if he had the chance, he would do it a thousand times over, as long as Arthur was safe. It was his life for the life of Prince Arthur. When Merlin thought of it that way, he felt quite satisfied and proud that he, who was nothing but a lowly servant, made the ultimate sacrifice of defending the future king. His last breath was for Arthur. Yes, it was worth it.

"You're not going to die." Arthur said in a rather unusually calm tone. It was like as if Arthur crept into Merlin's mind and knew what was going on in there. "I'll get us out of here."

Merlin understood why Arthur had to lie to him. As long as he was tricked into thinking everything was going to be alright, Merlin wouldn't feel the need to panic. It also created hope for both Merlin and Arthur. There were thousands of things Merlin wanted to tell Arthur before he died. He wished Arthur could understand why he did the things he did. He wished Arthur knew about the real Merlin - the warlock Merlin. He was so tired of tiptoeing around Camelot trying to keep his magic a secret. Was he going to take the secret to his grave? Perhaps this was as good a time as any to finally let Arthur know the truth.

Merlin tried to open his mouth to confess but Arthur interrupted. "Don't be an idiot and start complaining. It's the last thing I want to hear right now. You'll have plenty opportunities when we get back to Camelot."

Hearing Arthur so positive about the situation touched Merlin. Merlin knew Arthur had a soft side but he rarely showed it. Showing it meant disclosing vulnerability and Arthur would never do that. There was a time when Merlin used to be convinced that Arthur was a selfish, arrogant, royal brat. After a while, Merlin learned that Arthur may be well-privileged and stubborn, but underneath it all, he had compassion and a desire for justice. He knew that Arthur would never admit it, but in Merlin's heart, he knew Arthur was starting to have the makings of a great king.

Arthur took the jeweled dagger and slipped it into his belt. At first, he was reluctant in touching the awful weapon that hurt Merlin. The dagger looked completely foreign to him, but he figured that the fog was magical and it was because of magic that made this dagger appear out of nowhere. Perhaps Gaius would be able to make some sense of it.

Without further ado, Arthur fixed the makeshift bandage on Merlin's wound before hoisting him up over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Merlin couldn't help but choke a cry in spite of his painful disposition. It bit into Arthur's flesh to hear Merlin release such agony and he flinched, as if feeling the dagger himself. But Arthur refused to falter. He was not ready to reveal his inner feelings to anyone.

"We have to get to our horses by the gorge soon. Those clouds don't look very promising." Arthur said as he shot a glance at the dark menacing rain clouds that loomed overhead.

Indeed, the sun was setting in the west but a set of gray clouds gradually moved in. A storm was brewing and there was no telling when it might arrive. The winds have picked up quite a bit since their excursion into the ancient palace ruins. A silver streak of lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a soft rumble of thunder. Merlin's magic weakened from the injury rendering it hard to tell if there was something magical about the storm or if it was just Mother Nature's coincidence. He felt the magic in his body diminish to the point where it would probably take the remainder of his life force to even cast a spell.

As Arthur made his way out of the ruins and into the forest – going back the way they had been chased by the Crixobus. Merlin bit his lip at the pain inflicted from each bump caused by Arthur's quickened pace. A few moans and grunts were uncontrollable and Arthur pretended not to hear it.

For Merlin to say nothing, it was proof that he was hurt pretty bad. Merlin was not one that usually stayed silent for long periods of time. No one knew that better than Arthur. Something had to be terribly wrong to render the servant so withdrawn.

"We'll need to take shelter before it starts to pour. Unlike you Merlin, I'm capable." Arthur knew Merlin would not reply but he felt he had to keep talking to keep himself grounded. "After some water and something to eat, you shall be much better. Then tomorrow, in addition to scrubbing the floor, polishing my armor and cleaning the stables, you'll get to reorganize my entire closet…by color."

At that moment, Merlin really felt, in an odd sense, loved. It was the sort of love between brothers, something Merlin never had. Arthur had an odd way of showing his affection towards Merlin. He always managed to keep up appearances and acted very much the part of the spoiled and conceited prince, who always got what he wanted. He even got degrading and barking orders at Merlin down to a sport. But in the end, he favored Merlin above all others. Arthur would give his life for Merlin and Merlin would do the same.

Merlin realized it was very rare that any prince would go through so much trouble to save a servant. Other royals would've either put the servant out of his misery like some lame dog, or just left him to die. Arthur was different. He understood the value of loyalty and doing what was right. Arthur's way of showing Merlin affection was through insults.

They reached the foot of the gorge where they left Llamrei and Gringolet to graze. The two horses lifted their heads as Arthur approached with Merlin in tow. In recognition of her master, Llamrei snorted and tossed her mane. "Whoa, girl." Arthur murmured as he patted the mare's neck.

Arthur kept an eye on the rain clouds above as he gently deposited Merlin onto Gringolet's back. With one leg on each side of the horse, Merlin leaned forward and had a pale cheek against Gringolet's mane. Arthur noticed Merlin's complexion had gotten one shade more dreadful as he strapped the servant securely onto the saddle. Arthur tied Gringolet's reins to Llamrei's saddle and mounted the horse. He spurred Llamrei forward and made haste to find shelter.

M.M.M

The blood loss rendered Merlin so incredibly fatigued that he must've either fallen asleep or fainted somewhere along the way because when he woke, he found himself lying on the ground with a wool blanket drawn up to his chin. Everything around him was dark except for the small fire that flickered and burned beside him. The warmth emanating from the flames made his face toasty and comfortable. Merlin saw a figure crouching by the fire. It was Arthur. He was busy doing something. Merlin's blurry vision made it hard to tell what it was that Arthur was doing. He closed and reopened his eyes.

Arthur was crushing something in a small clay bowl with a pestle. On the ground next to Arthur were a few long green thick, fleshy leaves with white flecks. The edges of the leaves were serrated, with small white teeth-like thorns. It reminded Merlin of a flat cactus. Merlin could see the serious, faraway look in Arthur's profile as he continued to press and grind whatever was in that small bowl. Arthur didn't seem to notice that Merlin was awake.

There was dark all around, yet it didn't feel like he was lying in the forest. Merlin looked up to where the sky was supposed to be - but there were no clouds, no night sky, no stars, and no tree tops. In fact, it was just blackness. His nose caught the musky smell of the horses and heard an occasional bray or clicking of hoof against the ground. And somewhere farther, he heard the constant pitter of rain.

When Merlin inhaled a quick breath, a sharp pain caused him to cough. The sound drew Arthur's attention. Merlin winced and tried to take shallower breathes and choked a little in the process. It felt as though an elephant was sitting on his stomach.

"You're awake." Arthur's serious expression turned into a pleased one. He set the small clay bowl down and took a tin cup containing water. "Here, drink this." Arthur made his way closer to Merlin. He lifted Merlin ever so slightly and put the cup to the servant's parched lips. Merlin swallowed some water greedily and when he was done, Arthur laid him back down.

"Where are we?" Merlin croaked.

"The Grottoes of Sirus." Arthur answered. "We're in one of the caves. It's a good, dry place to wait out the storm. It's too dark and wet to continue. We'll start for Camelot at first light. If we go through The Grottoes, the journey will take half the time." He took up the small clay bowl and pestle, and continued to grind the contents.

"W-what are you doing?" Merlin's voice was weak and barely audible.

"I'm just about finished." Arthur said as he stopped grinding. He acted a bit jittery under Merlin's inquisitive stare. Arthur avoided eye contact because he couldn't bring himself to looking Merlin in the eye. To Arthur, Merlin was just a servant, who didn't know the first thing about fighting or protecting himself. He didn't even know how to hold a sword for heaven's sake. Arthur felt responsible for Merlin's safety. He was supposed to protect the defenseless servant, but instead, he allowed this to happen. He'll never forgive himself if Merlin dies. It scared him that Merlin was getting worse.

"It's a little remedy trick for relieving pain that I learned from Gaius. It's something all knights must learn. Besides, you never know when it might come in handy." Arthur said proudly. "Its pulp from abegania leaves, a few sucrosis seeds, and a dab of raedulus oil."

"I'm not going to eat that." Merlin cringed at the paste in the clay bowl. It had the texture of dog drool and no way was Merlin going to put it in his mouth, no matter how great the effects. Besides, it smelled funny.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin." Arthur sighed exasperatedly. "It's not for you to eat. It's supposed to go on your wound."

"Oh." Merlin replied, fairly embarrassed.

Arthur proceeded to undo the neckerchief that served as a temporary bandage. It was blood-soaked and completely useless now. He cleaned the wound the best he could without causing Merlin any discomfort. Merlin gazed at Arthur and tried to detect anxiety or reason for concern. Arthur kept a clenched jaw and tried very hard not to let Merlin know anything. It was for Merlin's own good. But Merlin was not always the idiot that he appeared to be. He knew that look on Arthur's face.

"Alright now, this might sting a little." Arthur warned as he dipped a piece of torn fabric into the mixture and swiped up a generous helping. He knew about the effect of the medicinal paste. It was going to be like rubbing salt into a wound. But he didn't have to tell Merlin that bit of information.

As expected, Merlin gave a bone-chilling cry the moment the paste made contact. It was so excruciating and agonizing that it even gave the horses a start. Llamrei and Gringolet scuffed their hoofs and snorted. Merlin's unbearable screams would be enough to give Arthur nightmares for a week. He refrained from letting anything get to him. His facial expression was cold as ice but his heart was melting with utter grief. Arthur had to look away.

Not only was Arthur pressing down on the wound, but the remedy that was meant to relieve pain actually caused more pain. But Merlin understood. He tried with all his might to hold back the scream, but he just couldn't. A hot blinding pain shot through his whole body like electricity. There were no words to describe the amount of suffering he felt.

Magic had always been Merlin's defense mechanism. It was second nature to him – moving objects around the room, manipulating objects, displacing people, and other easy spells that didn't require a lot of thinking. Some of the harder spells that involved more concentration were the ones that took up most of his power. These were the ones that required skill, direction and practice, some of which he still needed to work on. Gaius used to speak of prophecies and destinies, but Merlin always doubted the big picture. He often questioned his destiny and wondered how he could make a difference at all. Besides, Merlin never felt as powerful as he was told. Magic was part of his life and made him who he was. He treated it as nothing more than a survival instinct and would never use it to deliberately hurt anyone.

At that moment, Merlin felt the blueness in his eyes turn fiery gold. The magic was coming and there was nothing he could do to suppress it. Magic was his protection and when he felt threatened, magic usually took over. There was really no way around it. Merlin was born with this gift, or as he called it sometimes – a curse. He did not want Arthur to find out about his magic this way. Sometimes, words were better than actions and Merlin preferred to tell him about his magic with words. Merlin closed his eyes so Arthur won't see what was happening to him. He willed the magic to calm in his body.

"Merlin?" Arthur called when he noticed Merlin's body had stopped twitching. He studied his servant's ashy face. Merlin had his eyes shut and was breathing quite heavily. His lips parted slightly and beads of perspiration formed on his white forehead. He appeared to be completely consumed with exhaustion.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" Arthur said in a near whisper. Suddenly, he wondered if he got the remedy right. He ran over the procedure a dozen times in his head and came to the conclusion that he made no mistakes. It was just that Merlin seemed so way off. Perhaps he expected the remedy to work a miracle and heal Merlin in an instant.

Merlin heard Arthur but was afraid to give an answer. To give an answer meant having to open his eyes and doing that meant revealing to Arthur who he was. There was no telling if he could control the fiery gold in his eyes. He needed more time to ease the magic. Merlin's labored breathing was ragged with a few soft moans mixed in.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this. This is my fault. I should've been there." Arthur muttered under his breath.

Merlin heard the sound of splitting fabric as Arthur tore another piece of fabric to use as a fresh bandage. He fixed the bandage and gave Merlin another drink of water, which he gulped down feverishly.

Merlin was lowered back to the ground and the same coarse wool blanket was pulled to his chin.

Arthur became occupied with washing the blood from his hands. The blood truly upset him. Not because it took so much effort to get it off, but because it was Merlin's blood. Until Merlin came along, he never knew what it was like to have a real friend who didn't suck up to him just because he was a prince. Merlin was different than anyone he knew. He had the nerve to stand up to him when no one else dared. It was Merlin who shaped him into being an unselfish person. And now, the very blood of that friend had stained his hands. Arthur thought it ironic how he was a skilled knight and a prince - practically fearless of anything – yet he couldn't fathom how incredibly vulnerable and scared he was right then, feeling Merlin's sticky blood between his fingers. Once Arthur's hands were free of the blood, he began cleaning Merlin's hands with a piece of fabric and a bit of water.

Before long, Merlin started to feel a tingling sensation in his wound, followed by an odd sense of numbness. His muscles were tight and he still couldn't move his left arm but the pain was dramatically less. He opened his eyes.

"It's working." Merlin's voice was hoarse.

"Well, it's only temporary." Arthur said. "The effects will wear off but at least it'll help with the pain until we get you to Gaius."

"Impressive." Merlin said.

"Did you really think I wouldn't be prepared for something like this?" Arthur looked up. It was the first time he met Merlin eye to eye when he spoke. "Gaius made sure all of the knights, myself included, knew something about how to administer to wounds. Why else do you think he insists I carry a vial of raedulus oil and a pouch of sucrosis seeds in my saddle bag? The abegania plant grows wild in the forest and can be found everywhere, so there's no need to carry a supply of it."

"Like I said," Merlin paused and drew a short breath. "Impressive."

"Gaius calls it first aid." Arthur shrugged. "I call it being prepared."

"Always thought you were thick in the head. Didn't th-think you had a knack for the sciences." Merlin could barely talk above a whisper. It was his attempt at an insult, trying to keep light of the situation. He knew Arthur was very short-tempered prince and would never let anything go without having the last word. He waited for a defensive insult from Arthur, but he never got it.

"Let's just say I'm a man of many hidden talents." Arthur replied as he finished wiping Merlin's hands. He was trying hard to refrain himself from degrading his servant with abusive words since death's door was so near.

"You're hurt." Merlin said eyeing the untreated gash on Arthur's arm.

"Oh, it's nothing." Arthur said nonchalantly. "Just a small cut. I'll live."

There was a rather uncomfortable silence that separated prince and servant. The only thing heard for the next few seconds were an occasional roll of thunder and the continuous tapping of rain outside the cave. The soothing sound of wood crackling in the fire made them glad to be out of the rain. Merlin's breathing steadied a great deal since the pain-reducing paste had been administered, but apparently not enough for Arthur. He could still hear Merlin's short, wheezing breaths.

"Arthur." Merlin said. Arthur sensed the seriousness in Merlin's tone. As much as Merlin had been proactive in survival, everything in Merlin's river blue eyes told Arthur that he was beaten. "It really has been an honor serving you. I don't want you to ever think that I'm not grateful. I have no regrets."

"No Merlin. I don't want to hear it!" Arthur exclaimed. Agitated, he knew where this conversation was headed and he hated it. "I don't want to hear the whole I'm-happy-to-be-your-servant-till-the-day-I-die speech. I don't want to hear it because you're not going to die. You're crazy, Merlin. A complete imbecile! An idiot! I don't know why you think the things you do. You stupid idiot!" He cried in anguish.

The rage in his system was uncontrollable. He was angry at Merlin, angry at himself, angry at the world. It should've been him lying there, not Merlin. He wanted so bad to trade places. Arthur was on the brink of tears but he held it in as best he could. He could never let Merlin see him cry. Princes don't cry in front of their servants and they certainly don't cry because of their servants. Merlin had his flaws but he was always there for Arthur when he needed a friend. The notion that Merlin could die was not acceptable.

Just as he grit his teeth and was about ready to go another round in berating Merlin on his idiocy and madness, Arthur caught the weak smile upon Merlin's lips. Suddenly, Arthur knew what Merlin was trying to do and it worked. No one knew Arthur's explosive personality better than Merlin. Merlin had his ways of getting Arthur to do what he wanted. Arthur's mood changed and he smiled back. He hoped Merlin didn't see the tears that were welling in his eyes. Then again, aside from the light from the fire, it was pretty dim in that cave.

"I never got the chance to thank you for what you did back there." Arthur finally said. "You saved my life."

"You don't have to thank me. It's my duty." Merlin's voice was slow and feeble. He winced slightly.

"I must admit that I've never had a servant quite like you. All the others knew where to draw the line. But with you, it's different. Never do as you're told. You go beyond the call of duty. You're willing to give your life for me. Sometimes, I don't understand why you're so loyal to me." Arthur said.

"You're going to be a great king." Merlin replied. "Servant's life is not important when it comes to a greater good."

"I won't have you talking nonsense." Arthur reprimanded. "You are important, Merlin. You're important to me."

"Sire…" Merlin swallowed.

"Oh don't 'sire' me. I mean it, Merlin! You have to stop doing stupid things like this." Arthur raised his voice.

"It's not stupid."

"Why can't you just accept a thank you without being such an ass about it?" Arthur heaved a sigh.

"Alright then, you're welcome." Merlin said softly.

"See, it wasn't so bloody hard, now was it?" Arthur tried to smile. "I don't know what happened in that fog or what it all meant. But I know an evil force when I see one. That fog was evil." The prince had his mind made up. Anything that posed as a threat to either him or Merlin would be considered "evil."

"Arthur, there's something I need to tell you." The serious tone in Merlin's voice returned.

It was a hard decision to make. Merlin gave it quite a lot of thought before settling on the decision to come clean. He knew where his life was headed and his biggest fear was not getting the chance to tell Arthur the truth. The last thing Merlin wanted was for Arthur to learn all this from someone else. And the thought did occur to him that there could be a slight possibility that he'd live after his identity was revealed. It would change everything. But in a kingdom where magic was strictly forbidden and those who practiced magic were severely punished, Merlin figured he had nothing to lose since he would be sent to his death anyway. A tiny part of him wanted to believe that perhaps Arthur would understand and accept him. But as long as King Uther was alive, Arthur had no say in the matter.

Nevertheless, the young warlock needed to confess to Arthur about the magic and about his destiny. He needed to tell Arthur who he really was and why he had to do the things he did. Two sides of the same coin – Arthur needed to know. As long as Merlin was able, he wanted to be the one to explain everything to Arthur. He owed him that much.

"No Merlin. You need your rest." Arthur interrupted. "Whatever you need to tell me, you can do so when you feel better."

"Please, it's important." Merlin insisted.

"I'm sure it is. But right now, you need to sleep. You've lost a lot of blood. You must be tired." Arthur said as he tossed another branch into the fire. His voice was neither harsh nor bitter. The advice came out surprisingly affectionate and gentle, which was quite unlike the Arthur that Merlin was used to.

"I – I just want to tell you in case I don't…." Merlin flinched slightly from some small pain.

"You'll have many chances to tell me what's on your mind. Now's not the time for talking. You'll sleep and when you wake, you'll be stronger."

"I hope you can forgive me," Merlin swallowed. "For keeping it from you. And – and hope maybe someday you'll come to understand."

Merlin may not have been aware of it, but his speech was starting to slur and drift off. He was so focused on telling Arthur what he had to tell that he ignored the slightly blurring of his vision. He was convinced the distortion was a trick cast by the shadowy afterglow of the fire.

"There will be no more talk. You get some rest – go to sleep. Whatever it is that you have to say, will be said later, when you get your strength back. Your job is still to obey." Arthur's familiar callous tone returned. "Last I checked, I'm still the prince. My wishes are your commands, remember?"

Arthur couldn't bear to listen to Merlin speak as though it was the last night of his existence. Merlin had been through a lot and it, no doubt, traumatized him. Perhaps Merlin wasn't speaking with a rational mind. He just seemed so determined to tell Arthur something that Arthur felt slightly bad for cutting him off. Although Arthur was curious about what Merlin had to say, there was no way he could stand to have Merlin continue his speech especially when he looked so awful. He needed sleep and rest.

"But…" Merlin made one last defiant attempt.

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur spewed.

Merlin gave in and closed his eyes. He hadn't realized how extremely exhausted he was until that very moment. Although the core of the pain had decreased tremendously, he still felt some aches and soreness in his muscles. The hard ground beneath him was uncomfortable and smelt of iron. It was mixed with the strong scent of charred firewood. With the fire going and blanket tucked around him, he still felt an unusual coldness. He wanted so much to be nestled in a sea of warm blankets and soft pillows. He craved Gaius' attention and care. Regardless of his surroundings, the weight of his body grew heavier and heavier as darkness spun in his head. He soon surrendered into a deep sleep.

Sleep did not come easy for Arthur. So many questions filled his mind, making sleep rather impossible. Was Merlin going to be alright? What was the meaning of the fog? Where did the jeweled dagger come from? Why was there an attempt made on his life? Did Merlin know something about it? Who was the one behind all this?

Arthur had a feeling the jeweled dagger was somehow involved. And he figured if anyone would know about this mysterious dagger, it would be Gaius. Besides, the sooner he got back to Camelot, the sooner Merlin could receive medical help and the sooner he could ask Gaius for an explanation. Arthur had always been an impatient prince. When he wanted something done, there was no time like the present. If he had an idea, he wanted it to be set into motion instantly. It was both a blessing and a curse. Merlin often reminded him that sometimes, rashness served no victory. Arthur had to think things through – play devil's advocate and assume all the consequences of his actions. It was good advice and Arthur always remembered it.

Arthur walked to the opening of the cave and studied the sky. With sky still plagued by thunder and lightning, the rain pounded the earth with heavy drops. Gusts of wind howled and the black silhouette of treetops swayed. Merlin's condition worsened and Arthur wanted to start for Camelot immediately. But Arthur knew it was impossible. They could easily get lost and stranded in the rain. The smart thing would be to stay put and wait until first light.

After a checking on the horses, Arthur returned to tend to the fire. He took his blanket and doubled Merlin's blanket. Arthur would be lying if he didn't think it was cold as ice in that cave, even with the fire going. But he felt Merlin needed the blanket more than he did. He sat close to the fire and warmed his hands before reaching for the saddle bag. He'd forgotten how hungry he was after helping Merlin. Arthur looked into the bag and scanned its contents: a package of dried vegetables and dried sausage, some spices, a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and four apples. It was the meal that Merlin would be preparing for him if none of this had happened.

Merlin was not any form of expert cook but he knew what it took to survive. Arthur remembered watching Merlin cook when they were away on journeys and hunting trips. The servant would boil water in a travel pot and add the dried ingredients and spices. It became an instant soup – nothing like from the kitchens of Camelot, but it was a good and hearty meal. Arthur ripped half the bread and sliced a section of cheese with his knife. He had to eat and keep his strength if he wanted to make it back to Camelot. Merlin made it clear he had no appetite for food. Instead, he desired sleep. Arthur was all the more anxious to get Merlin back to Gaius.

Once Arthur finished his meal, he watched the hypnotic flicker of flames dancing in the fire. Lost in his thoughts, he remembered all those times they set off on adventures and hunting trips. He had to admit that Merlin felt the lash of verbal abuse practically nonstop, but deep down inside, the prince enjoyed Merlin's idiosyncratic self. The instant meals on the road were simple and far from being gourmet, but the company was good. Right then, he never felt so alone in the presence of Merlin.

I'm sorry, Merlin. This is my fault. I caused this to happen to you. I put you in danger. I should've gone on this quest alone. I won't forgive myself if you die. Arthur thought bitterly. He'd done all he could for the ailing servant. But somehow, he felt like it wasn't nearly enough. He allowed a few tears of despair escape, as long as no one was around to bear witness to his vulnerability.

How could you do this to me? Does your life mean nothing at all? Why do you take these risks? I don't know how I could've ever called you a coward, Merlin. You're not a coward. You've come through for me every time. You're as brave as any knight under the King's service. You can't die, Merlin. You just can't! Don't you understand what your friendship means to me? Don't you know that you're the only one I trust? You're the only one I can turn to. Arthur'semotions changed so rapidly from seething anger to complete sadness. The tears were genuine. These were Arthur's private feelings – things that he would never dare say to anyone.

Arthur brushed the tears away with the back of his hand and quit crying. His eyes focused on the rise and fall of Merlin's chest as the servant slept. As long as Merlin breathed, it meant he was alive. Arthur listened to the sound of steady but ragged breathing. Tired from crying and suffering the day's toil, Arthur closed his eyes. He wanted very much to remain alert and hold vigil over Merlin until morning, but he was so very tired. He fought the exhaustion that weighed down on him mentally and physically. He dozed but ever so lightly. He couldn't allow himself to pass out completely.

Unlike Arthur, Merlin fell deeper and deeper into his troubled sleep. The young warlock couldn't get up to save his life. The exhaustion and blood loss took its toll and he had to let go of consciousness, worries, and everything in between. He just didn't have the strength to hold onto anything solid and so, he drifted farther and farther away from reality. His body was damaged and dying.

Merlin was oblivious to his surroundings. He didn't feel Arthur shaking him, telling him dawn was breaking and that they had to leave. He didn't feel the pain when Arthur cleaned his wound and changed his bandages. He didn't feel the cold tickle of water drizzling down his throat when Arthur propped him up like a ragged doll and tried to feed him water. He didn't feel being lifted onto Gringolet nor did he feel the bumpiness of the road as they travelled into the forest. He didn't hear the anxious hum of conversation and alarmed tone of the knights when Arthur rode through the gates of Camelot. He didn't hear the urgency and authoritativeness of Arthur's instructions as he dismounted Llamrei. He didn't hear the intense words of compliance, the "yes, Sire", "right away, Sire", and "as you wish, Sire" as a thousand feet sprang into action. He didn't feel Sir Percival's strong arms lifting him up and carrying him to Gaius' chamber. He didn't feel being lowered onto the bed by the fire. And he did not witness the look of complete horror on Gaius' face upon seeing what became of his beloved ward. If Merlin could've seen the pain in Gaius' eyes, he would've understood how much he meant to the old physician.

Merlin's bloody shirt was cut open in a matter of seconds. If anyone could save Merlin, it would be Gaius.

End of Chapter 2

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