Sacrificial Limits

A/N - *stares* Fifteen. Reviews. In one chapter. Oh my God. . You guys are freaking amazing! Thank you soooo much! :D I really really appreciate it! *hands out free cuddles*

Chapter One

Arthur was feeling the oddest sense of déjà vu when he woke up from the sunlight hitting his closed eyelids. He wanted to yell at Merlin to close the curtains and let him get some more sleep, but he was feeling so tired. He also had a weird feeling that he should be in severe pain right now, which was worrying. The last time he felt like that, he'd been bitten by the Questing Beast and was on the brink of death. He'd had Gaius to thank for that, that time. But Gaius wasn't here now. Arthur's mind spun a bit with the effort of trying to remember what had happened...

He recalled the splitting pain in his side as something pierced through him... the nauseous feeling, the confusion and panic... a mass of black and red and a disarray of muffled voices all around him... then he'd been overcome by the darkness, feeling himself sink away into an endless hole, attacked by random bursts of white-hot pain coursing through his entire being...

But it had stopped. Arthur was sure of that. Sometime in the middle of the encompassing heat and agony, it had just... stopped. Gone. Disappeared. And he couldn't fathom why... unless Merlin had some tonic or...

Merlin!

He'd been hurt too, hadn't he? Arthur was sure he heard the younger man cry out before he fell- Bandits! That's what it was. They had been attacked by bandits, and he and Merlin had been shot; he hoped Gwaine and Lancelot hadn't as well. But that didn't explain how or why his pain had disappeared.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking note of the trees blocking the sky from clear view and the soft bedroll he was lying on. He sat up cautiously and looked down at his bare stomach, getting a brief phantom feeling of pain rippling through his side. But there was nothing there. No wound, no scar... why was he covered in blood, then? And the dressings - the clearly bloody dressings - on the floor beside him; if they weren't his, then whose were they?

Arthur looked around him. Gwaine and Lancelot were both asleep, opposite him on the other side of the cold remains of a fire. His gaze swivelled around the clearing, almost frantically, for any sign of...

"Merlin?!"

What the hell happened to him? Merlin was sprawled on the ground, even paler than usual and looking all but dead. But that wasn't what had made the prince cry out. No; it was the clear-as-day blood staining Merlin's shirt, mostly on his right side; so much blood he wondered how it hadn't drowned him in it. And there was one thing that baffled Arthur almost more than how much all the blood coming from Merlin scared him - because Merlin shouldn't look like that; he wasn't supposed to be seen covered in blood; he wasn't supposed to look like he was... dying. But Arthur was extremely perplexed. Because that wound... it was in the exact place that he could have sworn his own injury was, but... that wasn't possible...

"What happened to him?"

The sudden cry made Arthur start and he looked up, realising that his shout before must have woken the knights up. Gwaine dropped to the ground on Merlin's other side and gaped at the wound in shock, before turning to Arthur almost accusingly.

"How should I know?" Arthur yelled defensively. "I just woke up and... saw him like that! Didn't he get shot?"

"He - he did, but not there!" said Lancelot forcibly. He suddenly turned his frenzied gaze to the more-than-slightly-worried prince and gasped, making Gwaine look up at him too. "Wha- You-"

"How did you-?" Gwaine gestured, dumbstruck, at Arthur's bloodied but scarless abdomen.

Arthur's suspicions deepened. "I did have an injury there, didn't I? I wasn't just imagining it?" He felt he was in a severe state of shock, and the others' expressions of horror and apprehension weren't helping.

"Yes, but-" Lancelot started but stopped when Gwaine cut in impatiently.

"We can figure it out later - look at him! He's drenched in blood!" He waved his arms at his unconscious friend in distress. "We need to slow it down or something." He grabbed a random strip of cloth from the ground where Lancelot had left them the previous night and looked around for the water to wash Merlin's wound.

The extent of the servant's injury seemed to finally hit Arthur as he stared in trepidation at it, not hearing what Lancelot said or seeing what they were doing. All he could make out was the unnaturally pallid face of Merlin, the ominously still limbs sprawled out, and the darkened colour of his clothes where the blood had stained them. He looked like death itself, and that was just wrong - so wrong - because it was Merlin.

Lancelot's nudge broke him out of his shocked and confused daze, and he took action, helping them get the blood-soaked shirt off Merlin and cleaning the wound. Gwaine searched through Merlin's bag and came up with some herbs and honey, which they applied (only the ones that they knew how to use, of course), before applying a pressure-bandage and wrapping it up. Arthur grabbed the cold water cloth and wiped his feverish brow, concern and worry bubbling up inside of him.

How did this happen? The thought swirled around in his head, not letting him concentrate properly. He scowled and forcibly pushed it aside; he'd worry about that later, when Merlin didn't look like he was a second away from pushing up daisies.

He was about to get up to rinse out the cloth but he staggered and almost fell. Gwaine steadied him but his head was spinning, and he was forced to sit back down in case he fell again.

"Here, I'll do that," said Gwaine quietly, taking the cloth from him. "You still need to rest; you look like hell."

Merlin looks worse. Arthur wanted to argue, to help Merlin somehow, but he felt too dizzy to do anything. He didn't really know why he was feeling so nauseous, all he knew was that he was pretty useless to do anything right now and that infuriated him. Merlin needed them, damn it! This was no time to have a need for rest.

"Arthur, you can't help anyone if you're two seconds away from blacking out," Gwaine told him, a little more forcefully, when he noticed the defiant expression on the prince's face. Arthur scowled and sat, accepting the water he handed him and drinking a bit, watching as Gwaine and Lancelot tended to Merlin as best as they could.

His mind was a jumbled and confused mess; thoughts jumped from what exactly happened with his own injury, to how maddening it was not to be able to help, to the most dreaded thought of what happens if he doesn't make it? Arthur froze completely at that thought, mind going numb at the highly possible but frightfully alarming notion. It was almost startling how much trepidation he felt at that prospect; when had Merlin become so close to him that the mere possible thought of him dying scared him so much?

It had happened before – when Merlin had drank that poison that was meant for him, when he was first assigned as his servant – but that time it was different. That time, he had gone out to get an antidote; there had been hope that Merlin would live. And back then, he wouldn't ever have even thought – let alone admit – that Merlin was anything more than just a servant. An incredibly loyal one, no doubt; but that was about it. Now, though… Arthur let out a shaky breath, staring on at the younger man's blank pallid face, eyes closed, breathing ragged. In his mind, he saw Merlin's face after he'd collapsed from the poison – his face twisted in pain and his breathing quick and shallow… It was different that time, yes, but the concept of the matter was all the same. Merlin was dying.

Arthur abruptly stood up, ignoring the spinning of his head and the surprised looks from his knights, and trudged to the other side of the clearing. He shoved the unwanted thoughts away angrily, not wanting to think about that anymore, nor to sit and just watch Merlin suffer like that. Where did that thought even come from, anyway? They weren't positive he was dying, were they? Sure, he'd lost a lot of blood… and the wound was probably deep… and his breathing was terribly slow… But that didn't mean he was going to die! Arthur cursed himself for even letting that thought take a step into his mind. They didn't even know for sure how bad it was. It might be one of those wounds that look worse than they actually are. Arrow wounds weren't always deep and fatal… He tried to ignore the nagging fact that he didn't even know how Merlin got that injury, and then there was still the whole what happened to my injury?

He couldn't ignore those two questions any more. Arthur took a few deep, steadying breaths as he leaned against a sturdy tree trunk. He watched the knights deal with the unconscious Merlin; Lancelot carefully removing his shirt to wash away the blood; Gwaine trickling some water into his mouth. They both looked extremely worried, concerned, and Arthur was hit by the epiphany that out of all his knights, these two were the best to have with him right now. Their bond of friendship with Merlin was unbreakable, anyone could see that, and they didn't have to hide it either. They were both willing to do anything to save their friend – Arthur could clearly tell as he watched, reading the scared yet defiant lights in their eyes; scared that Merlin would slip away from them, but defiant that they wouldn't let him.

Arthur felt a brief flash of annoyance and - what was that? Jealousy? – course through him, immediately followed by disbelief at the strange feelings. Not strange as in he hadn't felt them before – Lord only knows how much time he'd been annoyed (mostly at Merlin) in the past few years - and as for jealousy… well, he wasn't even going to go there. No; he felt disbelief at himself, incredulous that he was feeling annoyed and jealous at something so meagre. Was he seriously getting irritated that Lancelot and Gwaine were such good friends with Merlin?

The prince shook his head as if to dislodge the confusing thoughts. No wonder his head was hurting. Why was he even thinking about these things? He should be helping them. He knew that. He just felt that if he got too close to Merlin again, if he had to sit there and watch him looking all… un-Merlin-like… he'd go mad. But even so, he forced himself to walk back and sit with them, though his movements were almost hesitant, eyes careful not to linger too long on the wound or the blood or the pale unmoving face. In the end, he turned to Lancelot, his previous questions finally rising out of him.

"What happened? Did he get shot?" He worked hard to make his voice even and casual-like, but the words sounded forceful to his ears, the fear beneath them not as hidden as he would have liked. But he found himself not caring much.

Lancelot avoided his gaze, a sure sign that he didn't want to say what happened, and focused on wringing out the wet cloth in his hands. Gwaine looked up, glancing quizzingly at the other knight as if to ask whether he was going to answer – or if he knew the answer. Arthur caught these looks, but didn't know what to make of them. This whole situation was so darn confusing, and he wanted some answers right now.

He narrowed his eyes as Lancelot seemed to brace himself, sending a warning glance at Gwaine not to say anything (his attempts at being discrete were thrashed by Arthur's skill at reading faces) at which the rugged knight looked puzzled but shrugged, before addressing Arthur. His eyes stayed on Merlin, though. "You remember we were attacked by bandits, right?" At the prince's nod of confirmation, he continued. "You got attacked first, one of them knocked you out with a hit on the head – that'll be why your head hurts – and was about to finish you off but we fought him off. But then Merlin got shot too- he got shot and-"

Arthur grew more disbelieving and suspicious by the word, and he cut in there, voice forcefully quiet and calm. "'Too'? What do you mean, 'too'? You didn't say anyone else got shot." He pushed on before Lancelot could do anything more than open his mouth to respond. "And that doesn't make any sense. When I woke up, your reactions told me that I'd been shot, and that Merlin didn't have an injury there." He paused to glare at the knight, who looked at least a little shamed, but not regretful.

Gwaine broke the rather tense atmosphere by putting in, rather unhelpfully, "Lance, mate, you're a terrible liar."

"Thanks, Gwaine," said Lancelot dryly. He glanced back at Arthur's unamused and demanding expression and sighed, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated something.

Arthur continued to glower at him. It was obvious that Lancelot knew what happened – though Gwaine looked like he didn't – and that infuriated him. He needed answers! He needed to know how this happened! And he couldn't believe Lancelot had lied to him; it wasn't a particularly good lie, true, but the fact remained that he was holding back on something and Arthur needed to know what that was now.

"Lancelot," he said firmly, making the young man look at him fully. Arthur was momentarily taken aback by the determination and resolve in his eyes as he glanced fleetingly at Merlin. What was that about? He went on relentlessly. "A Knight of Camelot is a man of his word. Do not lie to me. So I'm asking you again, what really happened? And I need you to answer truthfully." He saw the torn look in Lancelot's eyes and was again puzzled by what could cause such a reaction? What was going on?

"I can't," his knight replied boldly, meeting Arthur's shocked and incensed glare fiercely.

"What do you mean, 'you can't'?" Arthur repeated through clenched teeth, enunciating his words slowly.

"It's not my place to tell." The reply came instantly, accompanied by an unwavering look of defiance that threw Arthur off completely. He growled and stood up, Lancelot getting to his feet with him, both glaring daggers at each other. Arthur clenched his fists, the brief wish to have his sword with him flashing through his mind, before he disgustedly pushed it away. He turned his face from the knights' gazes, one resolute in his glare, the other just slightly amused and more than a little tense.

"I need an answer, Lancelot," he eventually said, more calmly, though with an edge to his voice. "I know I had an injury – and not from some hit on the head. I remember being wounded in the same place as Merlin's wound is." A silence followed his words. Arthur stared at Lancelot fiercely. Lancelot turned his gaze stubbornly to the ground. Gwaine looked between them uncertainly, before deciding to intervene before things got too ugly and one or both exploded.

"Look, why don't we just sort this out after Merlin… recovers," he suggested, feeling way out of place. His hesitation at the word 'recovers' made Arthur turn his heated glare onto him.

"No, we will sort this out now. And then when Merlin recovers, he'll tell us his side of the story. Because you know what this looks like?" he demanded both of them. Gwaine cocked an eyebrow. Lancelot grimaced and avoided his gaze. Arthur growled again. "Sorcery."

.:`:.

A/N – Muahaha. Cliffhanger. I'm so evil. *rubs hands together gleefully with evil cackle* Fear mah evilness.

Okay, that aside, wow, was this chapter intense. Writing out Arthur's thoughts was… whoa. I didn't even know he could think that deeply! *pats glaring Arthur on head* Kidding, Princess, don't get your knickers in a knot. I was honestly going to keep going after that, but then I thought… nah. I'll put a cliffy. Those things just beg reviews. xD Jk. Me, begging for reviews? Never. Although, now that you mention it… :P

Alright, back on track. How was the li'l confrontation there? Arthur's catching on. He was a tad confuzzled at the beginning, poor guy, but then he connected the dots – 'hang on… something ain't right here…'. Good boy. He's actually smarter than he looks!

Okay, okay, I'll stop verbally assaulting the guy. Don't worry, Arthur, we all love you! :D Kayz, I won't ramble on (any more…). Just, drop a review, and tell me what you thought? And tell me if anything seems off, cuz I'm too tired to notice any errors and stuff.

Now, onto the more serious stuff – I want your opinions: Should I have parts of the next chapters from Gwaine's and Lancelot's POVs? Or leave it as Arthur's? I know Gwaine didn't get much of a part here, but I've got an adorable bromancey scene between him and Merlin (*squeals and cuddles both of them*) planned out, and other things too. Lance and Arthur's argument sure isn't over, so he's got a role already. But what do you think? I was leaning more towards Arthur's POV only (and the last chapter will be Merlin's, of course), but if more votes go towards having the other two knights' POVs in there as well, I'll do that.

(Why are my AN's So. Goddamn. Long? ._.)

~iz =)