An: Wow, you say, is it true? Is this possible? Can Sagebush really have updated this story? As unbelievable as this is guys, it's true!
First off, I've realised that the characters in this are totally mucked up... as in I have all the knights such as Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, etcetera, but Morgana is good. Here that, y'all? Morgana is good! So, it's going to be classed as an AU because of that. - The capitals is for the people who don't read AN's.
Also, as before, I'm going to ask for five reviews. This is something I'm going to do for each chapter of this story as it is not a high priority at the moment with all my others. No reviews, no update. Just so we're clear.
Anyway, on with the story, please read and review (Galaxy Cookie Crumble if you do – or plain, whatever you prefer)!
Chapter One
When he woke, he couldn't remember who or where he was. His cheek was pressed into mud, the wind was chilling his back and at least one insect was crawling over his back. Slowly, he sat up, clutching at his head as he did so, grimacing in pain.
He was by a lake, one side of which lapped against a sheer wall of rock. How had he gotten here? Straining his memories, he could remember glimpses of armour, yelling and shouting, confusion and pain, water and death. Groaning, he looked further, towards the trees that lay in the far distance and the barren landscape that was in between. As he turned once more, his eyes caught on something much closer to home.
Only about five feet away was someone else, sprawled in the dirt, blood soaking the area about them.
With a cry, he started forwards, towards this man, this boy that was with him. Something about the neckerchief around his neck was familiar to him, and all of a sudden the walls broke and memories filled him.
He fell to the floor, once more clutching his head and moaning in pain. Flashes of a whole lifetime broke across his consciousness and when it had finished, he was almost surprised to find himself staring at the sky, panting on the ground. With a new wonder, he discovered himself and found himself satisfactory.
I am Uther Pendragon, he thought. I am the king. And more importantly; I know who I am.
He recognised the figure in the dirt now, knew it to be Merlin, his son's manservant. A cry was torn from his lips as he realised that he knew not his son's fate and he struggled towards the serving boy with a new fervour. He looked barely alive; nay, he looked dead, but there was a chance that he knew – and failing that, he might know where they were.
He reached the spot and shook the boy's shoulders, flinching at the cold skin. The boy's head lolled to the side uselessly, lips parting with the movement.
Fear bolted through Uther and he leant closer, head above the boys mouth, trying to feel if he was alive. For he must be, had to be.
Still, he felt nothing and leant closer still, wishing he had his sword to check the boy's fate with mist against the steel. And there! He felt it, a faint flutter against his cheek. Relief flooded through him, sweet relief that coursed through him pleasantly.
"Boy," he cried and lifted a hand, slapping it against the servant's cheek, praying for a response. Still there was none. He tried again, then said, "Merlin!" This gained a slight response as the boy stirred slightly.
If he had smelling salts, they may have worked, but he had none. He could feel tiredness beginning to creep in and for the first time wondered what the times was and how long it had been since the ambush. The first question was answered by looking at the sun; mid afternoon sometime, but the second could have no answer yet.
Raising his hands, he started massaging his head in an attempt to alleviate the headache he felt coming on. To his horror, as he reached the place just above his left ear, the skin tore and blood poured free. The tiredness swept over him once more and he couldn't help himself as he slumped into unconsciousness.
Whispers On The Wind :: Whispers On The Wind
When he next awoke, it was in a different place. The wound on his head no longer hurt so much and a quick exploration with his fingers revealed a dressing. Astonished, he looked around and found that he had been dragged to the shelter of the cliff and that the serving boy, Merlin, was on the floor in front of him, obviously heading towards the water.
It didn't take long to work out what had happened. While he had been unconscious, the boy had woken and cared for him as much as he was able. On the way back to the lake, for whatever reason, he had collapsed once more.
Briefly, Uther though what Gaius would say to him if he ever found out and allowed himself a small wince.
He felt better than the last time he had woken and stood up, using the cliff as support. Slowly, he staggered to the lake and knelt by it's edge, cupping water in his hands and letting it trickle down his throat. Ah, how good it felt! Like sun on a winter day, like food to a starving man!
When he had finished, he gazed at his reflection, examining his face as if seeking to find a story written there. The left side of his face was caked with mud, his right stained red from blood. His eyes had purple bruises under and myriad of cuts were etched upon his face. The dressing on his head, now he examined it, was the servant's neckerchief.
How clean was it, he wondered, before it was placed upon his head?
He shivered at the thought of infection and Gaius's face hovered in his mind for a moment. Then he tilted his head and thought how strange it looked without the heavy crown on top.
His chin held several days worth of stubble. Dismayed, he realised that despite the time passed, no one had yet found them and that they likely never would. He stood up once more and weaved over to the boy, pausing to examine him. Undoubtedly he looked healthier than when Uther had first woken, and yet he wondered how. Certainly through no administration of his own. Casting the thought from his mind he realised that as much of a fool as the boy may have seemed in the past, he was Uther's only hope of getting back to civilization.
And yet for that, the boy had to heal first.
With a weary sigh, Uther settled his back against the wall and prepared himself for a long wait.
In the next day, the boy stirred only once. Uther realised eventually that he was going to have to move, if only to find something to eat. Merlin obviously hadn't thought of that when he was awake and so it was down to Uther to find some food. If only he knew how when he had no wood and no crossbow.
A thorough search of the area revealed nothing except for a couple of sticks, a lot of mud and water and not a lot else. Stomach still rumbling, he returned to his vigil next to the boy just as night closed in.
Wherever he was, it was cold and the constant chill kept him awake long after he would have been asleep in Camelot. The insects that flew constantly in the moons light played their part too and soon he was left wondering if he would have an inch of skin left unbitten when the night ended, Eventually, as he knew they must, his thoughts turned to the ambush.
They had been travelling Escetia on a biannual royal visit that had happened ever since he was a little boy. Arthur had had to come to, just as he had with his father, and the knights and servants that accompanied them were essential on such visits. He had thought they were safe. He had thought nothing could happen. He had thought wrong.
They had come out of nowhere, with no warning. A brief flash of metal, a blur in the corner of his vision and the air was full of yells and cries of pain. Arthur, like the noble fool he was had dived in front of his father, defending him at all costs.
Uther remembered the feeling of blind panic as his son was struck once on the shoulder, then again on the leg, so consumed in his son that he hardly noticed the blow that killed his horse and sent him tumbling down the bank into the river below. He remembered hitting the water, the air knocked out of him, sinking and then rising again, struggling frantically against the strongest enemy he had ever known.
The rest was a blur.
The night darkened further still and memory's still flashing across his vision, sleep gently rose to claim him.
Whispers On The Wind :: Whispers On The Wind
"Arthur? Arthur can you hear me?"
Arthur Pendragon opened his eyes and saw the vague shape of Gaius peering down at him concernedly. He blinked and the world came into clearer focus. Now he could see Morgana standing next to the physician, her normally clear face pressed into a frown, and just behind her, Gwen, her hands twisting her dress nervously.
He opened his mouth to ask something – probably, 'what happened?' - but the movement pained him and it took all his effort not to cry out.
"Arthur, I need to know if you can hear me. Nod for me if you can hear me."
Slowly, painfully, Arthur nodded.
"Good, sire, very good," Gaius said in relief. "I want you to drink this for me -" a bottle appeared in front of Arthur "- it'll lessen the pain."
He gritted his teeth and tried to reach for the bottle but pain overtook him and this time he did cry out, unable to keep it in. Dimly, he was aware of people gasping, frantic cries, but then he knew no more.
It must have only been a moment later that he came back into consciousness because some foul liquid was being poured down his throat and Morgana and Gwen were still there.
"What is that?" he rasped once he had swallowed it all.
Gaius smiled tightly.
"I doubt you would want to know, sire." He placed the bottle down on a nearby table. "Now, if you can, I want you to tell me where it hurts and how much."
"Everywhere," Arthur said. "Mainly my shoulder and hip. And every time I breathe-" he winced. "And generally every time I move," he finished.
"Yes, thank you sire." Gaius looked as if he had heard exactly what he had expected to hear as he took a seat on a stool next to Arthur's head. "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you if you remember what happened."
"What-" Arthur struggled to bring his thoughts together and a moment later he was struggling, trying to rise.
""Sire, no!" Gaius cried, alarmed. A hand pressed down on his shoulder and Arthur cried out in pain again, slumping back onto the bed. "Sire, you must rest."
"But, the ambush!" Arthur cried. "There was an ambush, my father, is he all right?"
The three occupants of the room exchanged glances.
"Where is he? What's wrong, I demand you tell me!"
"Arthur," Morgana said finally. "We don't know what happened. Only that you set off for Escetia one week ago, and you returned alone two days ago."
"What?" Arthur could hear his voice getting fainter. "He- he's dead?"
"Not necessarily, sire-"
"But you think so." Arthur closed his eyes, feeling the burning sensation and willing it to stop. "Wait, what about Merlin? What happened to him?"
The pause was longer this time and a heavy sensation settled in his stomach, almost like lead. He felt the sudden urge to throw up.
"Merlin has not returned either," Gaius said heavily. "You are the only person to have returned."
Arthur almost did throw up then, but instead of anything coming out, he just dry retched. Gwen appeared with a bucket just in case.
"But Merlin always-" Arthur said. "Even with the dragon-" he retched again and felt the burning sensation in his eyes getting larger. "It's Merlin, he's always fine."
Gaius looked away, his voice almost a whisper.
"Not this time."
Whispers On The Wind :: Whispers On The Wind
It took a few days for Arthur to recover enough from his wounds – both mental and physical – so that he could walk about. Everywhere he went, pitying eyes accompanied him and wished more than ever that Merlin was at his side.
Merlin! How he had taken the boy for granted, how he had always expected him to be just there, and now he was gone. Gone, away, for it was unlikely that anyone survived the ambush and if they did, they would have made their way home by now. Arthur didn't know exactly when Merlin became an irreplaceable part of his life, didn't know when he had come to care for the boy so, only that now he was gone there was huge whole in his heart, his mind and his life.
Oh, fate was cruel.
There were plenty of other mourners, yet some of them refused to believe the news until they knew for certain. These people were most prominently Gwaine, Gwen, Lancelot, Elyan, Percival and all the others. At times, he agreed with them as he refused to accept his loss, but at others he knew with cold certainty that there was no coming back from this blow.
He was dead. They were dead. Both of them. Merlin and his father.
Sometimes, he wondered who had meant more to him, but soon gave up as he realised he didn't know.
Against Gaius's orders, he made plans for a search party the next day. They argued but eventually the physician realised that Arthur wouldn't take no for an answer and gave him a variety of potions to stop the pain and infection. Gratefully, he thanked the man before asking a servant to prepare everything that they needed.
It was no surprise to him when the next morning, all of the Knights of the Round Table turned up. He had counted on it.
The journey took two days, quicker than before due to their fewer numbers and more urgent quest. When they reached the sight of the ambush, Arthur almost wished he had never come. Images of Merlin and his father lying broken on the ground invaded his mind at every opportunity.
They spread out to search for any survivors, all on the look out for a certain raven haired boy.
None was found.
That night, a depressive mood fell on them all and there was little talk. Gwaine supplied the alcohol that they so desperately need to distract themselves and the laughter that filled the air afterwards was not their own.
The next morning, they started burying the bodies, noting down the names of the dead. They finished in anger as still no Merlin or Uther was found and their search was spread wider. That evening, they were forced to give up as their supplies only allowed them to stay for so long.
As they travelled home the next day, two of Arthur's wounds reopened but he ignored them. They were not important. They could be fixed by Gaius; the other two pains, the ones that encompassed him so greatly, could never be healed.
Camelot came into sight, yet none of them felt any joy. Gaius, Gwen, Morgana and the rest of the knights were revealed to be waiting for them as they road into the courtyard. One look at their faces should have been enough confirmation, but Morgana still asked and turned away to hide the grief at the answer she got.
Arthur dismounted and threw the reins at a servant, striding up the steps and finding his way to his chambers. The doors slammed shut behind him, but Gwen slipped in a moment later.
"Why are you so angry?" she asked and he turned to face her, not hiding the tears that ran down his face.
"They're dead," he said. "All of them. You heard."
Still, she pressed him for an answer and eventually he broke, eyes bloodshot and hands clenched by his side.
"Do you want to know?"
"Yes, " she whispered.
"I couldn't find them!"
"Who?"
Need she ask?
"My father, or Merlin. They weren't there!" He swore, using a word he had never uttered in a ladies present before.
She wrapped her arms around him and all of a sudden, he couldn't hold it in any more. The tears broke free and he howled and wept and shouted in equal measures such as he had not done for years, not since he was a little child. When he had finished, he collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.
Gwen took one last look at him, shaking with repressed emotions as she refused to cry in front of him, and exited the room quietly. In one last attempt to escape the pain, Arthur closed his eyes and wished he was dead.
Whispers On The Wind :: Whispers On The Wind
Hundreds of miles away, a raven haired boy snapped his eyes open and the man hunched next to him stirred in relief.