Behold! Another one!.. Product of this weeks mad typing and OCED.. I do hope you wll enjoy this read~

Many thanks for all the lovely feedback you give me, I really appreciate it, and it makes me very happy and motvated to write more.. :) Have a lovely weekend folks~!

Keeping A/N shrt.. on with the fic!

.*.

It hurt.

Everything just hurt.

His senses flowed around his surroundings sluggishly, vaguely registering the cold residing in his limbs and the hard ground underneath him as well as a faint light trying to invade through his closed eyelids. It took him a while to open his eyes, and woe the light felt like daggers for his headache; he moaned squeezing his eyes shut. His ears were ringing and he felt to be freezing, but the pain in his shoulder felt like fire consuming him; yet again he groaned as if it would have helped with anything to ease the suffering.

Merlin frowned and felt his mouth to be very dry and his parched throat begging for water as he tried to swallow, then feeling as if he had a great amount of dust in his mouth that just didn't taste good. It took several attempts to keep his eyes open and another while for his vision to clear enough. He noticed the flames of the torch and it seemed to be so close, for a moment the warlock wondered why he doesn't feel it burning him, surely being so close to the fire would have him at least feeling warmer, instead of cold. - And oh, how cold he felt. - The cave walls danced around in front of him, causing his stomach to somersault. He just felt so dizzy.

Then he noticed a figure crouched over him, unmoving; and he struggled to give sense to it's shapes. First he recognized the chain mail, next the red around his shoulders, thus coming to the conclusion that it has to be a knight. He felt relieved to be found by him and not someone else. Then he recognized the person wearing the Camelot cape, and right after that, his focus came onto something in the man's hand that very much resembled a dagger; was rather close and more importantly, pointed right at him. – As slow as his mind was momentarily, he knew a knife just cannot mean anything good, especially aimed in his direction.

And in that instant Percival got the sudden feeling that he had just run out of time for a decision. - Or perhaps the decision was made for him instead.

He got lost in Merlin's groans and pained expression. And as considerable size of a man he was, Percival still found himself being somewhat.. afraid.

The sorcerer was awake. – But the knight was too surprised to move; the words froze in his throat and didn't know what to say or do.

However said sorcerer was looking squint-eyed at him; and it took a while for the manservant's eyes to focus and he furrowed his brows in effort to see the knight, before actually recognizing him, and then running his uncertain gaze between the man and the dagger in his hand. He didn't look all that threatening.

"Uh.. h.." It wasn't much but it was all he could squeeze out in one go, and it perfectly expressed how he must have felt. "Ph..erc..ival?" The second attempt sounded closer to what he intended to say, though it got him coughing; but it was pretty much what Percival needed to rouse him from his musings.

"Yes.." He nodded and didn't know what else to say. He still felt abashed about looking at Merlin, and knowing the truth about him and just what he is; yet he wasn't any different; he searched for signs, any kind of differences, but the servant looked the same; he still was Merlin.

"Wh.. what are y-you.. doing?" Merlin asked confusedly, his voice coming out something between a choked growl and breathless squeaking.

The tall man looked somewhat comical, looking wide-eyed at the sorcerer like some freak of nature, almost like he'd never seen the likes of him before. - Now's the time! - Something spoke in him, but looking Merlin in the eyes he knew he just couldn't do it.

The knight just stared at him in a sort of awe and Merlin couldn't for the life of him understand why Percival would be hovering over him with a dagger in hand. Perhaps he got knocked on the head?

"I need to cut your shirt away." He blurted eventually, after a long moment of going over of just what he originally wanted to do with the knife; and just how wrong that felt; and prayed to the Gods the raven-haired lad won't think much of it. It took a while till the servant recalled what has happened, but then Merlin seemed to understand, nodding carefully and turned his head slightly, while he clumsily reached up and tugged at his neckerchief to get it loose and out of the way.

Cut his shirt away. Percival praised his own quick thinking and swallowed; then gripped the hilt better in his sweaty palm and did just that. Careful to avoid anything else that wasn't his shirt, he cut the fabric of Merlin's garment and gingerly pulled the soaked and dirty layers of material back to reveal a nasty wound. It was glistering bloody and dirty and it had all the shades of dark blue and purple and everything in between; and the knight found himself unable to tell where the actual wound is under all the mess, and he silently cursed himself for stalling. Merlin also tried to peer at his own injury and let out a shaky breath when he felt he couldn't see much beside the myriad of red and dark colors.

"That's.. ugly." Percival sighed.

Merlin scoffed and gave a dry laugh, but cut it short when he felt the movement increase his discomfort. It felt like even breathing hurt. "Well.. least.. Arthur can't say I.. h-haven't got any battle wounds.." He added in one quick breath.

No battle wounds.. The knight thought, picking up the discarded neckerchief, he shook it and covered the wound with it, drawing a hiss out of the young man, while suddenly recalled all the times Merlin got out of tight situations unharmed. Oh, how it made sense now..

But perhaps.. perhaps this all was planned and he did it all on purpose, only the miscalculations landing the sorcerer in the trouble he was in right now. Perhaps he deserved it. - Percival strengthened his resolve and decided he will get the truth out of the servant, no matter what he has to do to get it, and with that he involuntarily pressed a little harder then necessary, causing the magic wielder to let out a choked yelp in pain, while he squeezed his eyes shut. He will have the young man confess. But again, said young man did something that was very much Merlin-like, and not like a plotting crazed sorcerer.

"Arth.. Wh.. where's Arthur?.." he panted. Desperately trying to distract himself from the pain. He figured it's either dislocated or broken; though judging by how he was feeling, it could be both and in flames and pierced while being eaten alive; he couldn't tell. It just hurt something terrible.

So you are concerned about the king, ey? The knight thought, pausing in his movement. Why care? Concerned about his safety or the success of the plan to assassinate him?

"He's fine. He got out before the cave came down on us." Percival said, noticing his own voice shaking a bit from the tension he felt, and he observed, unblinking what the man's reaction would be; may it be anger; may it be disappointment; to spot anything, anything at all, even the faintest sign that this man wasn't the cheery "special" lad Lancelot always talked so fondly of; that this man wanted to see the king die, the kingdom fall, the people perish - yet it didn't come.

"Good.." Merlin breathed out with what seemed like the deepest relief and attempted a small smile as he closed his eyes. "Good.." he mumbled again.

Percival just stared at him, reading his features, suddenly feeling ashamed for even thinking of suspecting Merlin of anything less then being loyal to Arthur; all the accusations that came to his mind earlier, now seemed ridiculous and he found himself feeling very sorry and genuinely worried for the man, the severity of his condition truly dawning on him.

Percival only snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed Merlin had opened his eyes and was staring at him. – Eyes dark and blue, not gold..

"D'you.. cou'dyu.. g've me some ..water..?"

"Yes.. Of course.." he fiddled on his belt to get the waterskin, only then realizing that even with Arthur giving his, and his own being half full, they will be short on it; more so that he would need to clean that wound somewhat, before wrapping it.

He could have denied him; what would be the point in wasting water on him? Saving a sorcerer..? – But as fast as the thought came as fast he let it go; his movements not even pausing as he brought the mouth of the skin to the manservant's lips. And the man drank avidly.

"Nh..!" Merlin looked up at him in desperation as the knight took the water away after a few gulps, but the explanation came shortly after: "I'm sorry, but we're stuck here.. We need to ration the water."

"St.. ck?" Merlin picked his head up, quickly regretting the careless movement as he let his head fall back on the debris and squeezed his eyes shut. "We're stuck..?" he croaked eventually. Oh right.. the cave-in. How could that slip his mind?

Sir Percival wondered for a moment if he should let the man think there is no way out; let the man believe it's their grave they are sitting in, and the knights and the king won't be coming back for them, but yet again decided against holding information from him.

"There is a way out. But we'll be needing help to get out."

Merlin looked at him confused. Surely he doesn't mean climbing out through some hole, the servant prayed. He knew very well he won't be up for it. Not with someone around to watch him.. - That got him an idea.

"You should go.." he spoke, but Percival just shook his head. "I'm not leaving you here." And suddenly Merlin was the one feeling silly. Of course, the man wouldn't leave. That wouldn't be like him. But it also meant he can't use magic to heal himself while the knight is around, and he felt he could really use a couple of healing spells. His aching shoulder was one thing, but he felt nauseous, cold and alarmingly dizzy even laying on the ground – tell tale signs that translated, thanks to his experience of working with Gaius, that he had lost a great deal of blood already, and who knows how that knock on the head was looking, that was giving him a headache.

"Help is on the way." Percival said and it seemed the servant is fine accepting as much for now.

"I need to bind your shoulder." He spoke again, his voice coming out uncomfortably flat and hoarse, knowing it won't be a fun experience. The wound would need to be cleaned and bandaged, but not having that luxury at the moment, Sir Percival whispered a silent apology as he took off Gwaine's cape and proceeded to cut strips off of it to use as bandages.

By the time he finished, it seemed Merlin had passed out again. For the better. - Percival thought, though he worried for that head injury, not quite sure if he should let Merlin sleep.

He moved the torch to his other side to have better light; if he has to do this, he might as well make sure he sees what he's doing. He placed the wood in a crack on Merlin's right side, putting a couple more stones around the base to keep it steady as possible; thus lighting the young man's shoulder and face better, but then as he turned back towards the servant, something else caught his attention. There, just at the edge of the tear on his shirt, Merlin's skin seemed to have some marking on his chest. Some sorcerer marking perhaps.. His interest perked.

The knight carefully moved closer, trying not to make a sound, glancing up at the dark-haired, to see if he really was unconscious; feeling like he was trespassing a little with his curiosity. Percival carefully pinched the edge of the fabric between two fingers and lifted the remains of his shirt, looking up again to see if the movement roused Merlin, but he didn't even flinch.

He wasn't sure what to expect; runes, markings, perhaps, but what he saw in the end wasn't anything like those. He frowned as a large burn scar revealed itself and he tried to recall any incident or attack they suffered that could have the king's servant come out of it all with an injury that would leave such a mark on his skin. - He couldn't think of any.

Perhaps it was something that has happened before Percival came to Camelot. It did look old enough; but then why would the king say he doesn't have battle wounds, and tease him on a daily basis on the training field, about his lack of fighting skills. The knight frowned; Merlin was no knight of Camelot, but he was pretty decent with the blade, - when he had to be, - and he was no coward either. But if that's the case, it could mean only one thing: the king just didn't know. And if he was unaware of the scars his servant bore, no doubt it was because Merlin was hiding them; and that instantly made him come to the conclusion that they must have been of magical origin.

For a moment he wondered how two sorcerers would fight chanting spells at each other. He found fighting with words instead of weapons and strength to be an odd one. But what is strength really..? He huffed to himself.

The scar looked nasty and he didn't doubt it had to be a painful one to receive. The knight realized Merlin had his own kind of strength after all; and above all, he was a hell of a lot better at keeping secrets than one would think of him being capable of. No doubt if he had kept his magic secret, he had to keep his sorcery-obtained injuries in the dark as well. Just how hard must have that been.. especially when the king often used him for this and that, besides the chores, involving him in the training – perhaps unknowing that the man he was making hold the wooden shield for him to practice on with a mace, was hiding injuries under his clothes. Or maybe he had spells for that as well?

Percival found it all very overwhelming and as he glared at the burn mark, trying to digest what he has seen, he noticed the edge of another scar; looking like something more recent he received, and after a moment of scrutinizing it, the knight vaguely recalled the ambush at the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Least he could place one scar to an incident, he thought; but what of that huge one on his chest? And who knows how many more there are.. 'no battle wounds ey?'

He let the cloth fall back a little carelessly then nearly jumped when he noticed Merlin was looking at him with an expressionless face. It made him shiver. What if the sorcerer, now having been discovered, will kill him off with a spell as quick as a breath..

"Are you injured anywhere else?" The question serving as distraction came to him faster this time; and Merlin apparently didn't think to be suspicious of why the knight was prying at his clothes and looking at his chest.

"Don't think so.." He croaked with a twitch of the eyebrows, and fell silent again.

Percival cleared his throat, shaking away the disturbing thoughts of various painful deaths by magic and he took the water skin in hand gripping a piece of red cloth.

"Ready?" He said plainly and only waiting until he saw Merlin nod and he got to it. Making quick work of the cleaning and trying to ignore the muffed moans coming from the servant, even though Merlin tried his best to stand it all; his torn flesh burnt fiercely and right into his bones and skull and he bit the inside of his mouth and squeezed his lips and eyes shut, but eventually the sounds of pain erupted from his throat and let loose in a ragged breath. Percival kept at it, cleaning off the dirt, mumbling "sorry's" in repetition and tried to work as fast as he could.

Bandaging was another matter. He carefully sat Merlin up, giving the physician's apprentice enough time to asses his own injuries. Merlin nodded again and Percival continued. There was something horribly wrong with his arm and shoulder. He couldn't move it, yet in the light of the torch and the mess of blood, swelling and bruises, the knight couldn't tell what it was. Merlin kept his eyes closed after he got a glimpse of it, plainly saying "Broken." between gritted teeth, and it seemed he will pass out again. Percival kept a hand on him at all times to keep him sitting at least until he binds the arm and shoulder enough, using more of the cape to make a sling.

Having the servant sit up left the knight wondering if it was worth it all and wouldn't it be easier to just wait for their rescuers to come back for them. Not that Merlin was saying anything, except for a dropped word of instruction here and there, which Percival appreciated, coming from the man serving as physician in the group; but the man was trembling and swaying even as he sat, and sweat was flowing off him in rivulets.

Lucky the head injury turned out to be a small cut, as Percival found out after some cleansing; and it seemed to have stopped bleeding as well. He couldn't know what other damage there could be, but least on the outside he could help it. He dabbed off most of the blood that caked onto the pale skin then wrapped his head as well and decided, he put Merlin though enough already, so he declared with all the certainty of a fake physician that all is fine, - and the servant didn't argue.

Merlin felt positively sick. He lay on his back, eyes shut and frowning; he squeezed his lips tight to muff his moans of pain, he obviously was in, taking steady breaths through his nose in attempt to calm his roaring nerves.

Percival observed while he desperately tried to think of something to help. "Can't you do anything?" He asked. Surely there was healing magic he could do.

Merlin scoffed, running his glance along the cavern ceiling.

"What could I possibly do?" he panted looking at the tall man. "I can't even move.."

'Magic' Percival nearly blurted out.

"I'm.. sorry.." the dark-haired then said, looking at the distressed knight figuring the man felt helpless enough without him being difficult about it.

Percival shook his head with an apologetic expression and turned to eye up their water reserve instead, wondering if there could be a spring somewhere in the caverns, but not really wanting to go and get himself lost in the tunnels.

He picked his head up, thinking he heard something, but the young man had his good arm over his head, covering his eyes and besides the heavy breathing there wasn't anything about him.

Merlin had to make do with what he had, and be quick about it, before things got worse and he wouldn't know how to get out of the mess or worse: lost control. He covered his eyes to be sure no golden glimpse escaped and used all the non-verbal healing spells he could recall. Yet again swearing that if he gets out of this situation alive, he will study hard and learn all the healing spells he can find in the lot of the whole library and Gaius's tomes. – Can't be helped. Healing arts weren't his main field of interest, as Gaius had once pointed it out. But they sure as hell would have come handy right now.

He also had to be careful, not to make it too obvious, so he focused on dimming his pain at least, and stopping the bleeding; the spells having more or less success. He didn't need to fear a sudden and miraculous healing; he just wasn't that good at it.

He didn't know when darkness claimed him, he also had no notion of the knight still looking at him; drawing his own conclusions.