Sacrificial Limits
A/N – Thanks for your opinions last chapter. =) So I see that a few of you seemed to like the idea of having Gwaine's POV of what was going on, seeing as he'd be lost too. I was initially gunna do this from Arthur's, but the idea of watching this whole confrontation thing through Gwaine's eyes grew on me the more I thought of it. So… here you go. And thanks again so much for the reviews! A quarter of a hundred reviews in only two chapters? Boo-yah! :D
Ooh, and my friend sent me this pic: http:/ merthur. tumblr. com/ post/ 6081203380/ by-latte-thunder (without the spaces, of course)
And it looks so awesome so I had to share it. :D (It's not Merthur material, though, the picture, just from a merthur-shipping site.)
Chapter Two
"Look, why don't we just sort this out after Merlin… recovers," Gwaine 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 horrible, tense silence followed the word, where the three knights all stared at one another – or glared, in Arthur's case. Gwaine glanced from the prince to Lancelot, who looked decidedly resolute for some reason at Arthur's words. The two of them seemed to be having a battle of wills, staring each other down, the air between them seeming to crackle with the intense electricity of their gazes.
Gwaine felt annoyed as he watched them. Couldn't they sort this out later? Okay, so he had to admit, the whole thing with Arthur's and Merlin's wounds was unnatural and something was definitely up, but right now they had a friend to watch over. They could figure out the implications of Arthur's deduction later, couldn't they?
Arthur was the first to break the icy silence. "Well, Lancelot?" he almost snarled, taking a step closer to his knight – though that seemed to be debatable if the look on Arthur's face was anything to go by. "What do you say to that?"
"What do you want me to say?" Lancelot fired back, eyes flashing defensively. What the hell is up with him? Gwaine found himself wondering, despite his earlier thoughts.
"I don't know!" Arthur all but yelled, taking another step forward. "All I know is I got shot by some bleeding bandits and when I wake up there's nothing there and Merlin is bloody knocked out and injured with the same wound that I supposedly had! What do you think?"
Judging by the look in Lancelot's eyes, he was probably thinking something that would definitely cause a fight if he said them aloud. So Gwaine intervened, for once acting to prevent a fight rather than encourage it.
"Will you two just leave it?" he exclaimed heatedly, meeting their momentarily surprised looks with his own irate glare. "Merlin is injured and suffering here while you argue – can't you deal with this later?"
"Well, it might be a lot easier if we knew why and how he's suffering!" Arthur cried out, throwing his arms out in frustration and shooting Lancelot another dark glower. The usually respectful knight met it with his own cool look.
Gwaine gritted his teeth and turned from them, moving back to his position next to Merlin on the floor. "Fine. While you do that, I'll do my bit as Merlin's friend and actually help him. And if he gets worse or something, that's your fault." Normally, he wouldn't play the guilt-card on his friends. But normally, Merlin wouldn't be mortally wounded anyway. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all.
The tension in the air diffused instantly to be replaced with Arthur's and Lancelot's guilt, but Gwaine had turned his attention fully to Merlin, noticing that he'd gone even paler than before, if that was even possible. He frowned in concern, taking note of the thin line of blood seeping through the bandages again, and took hold of the young man's wrist. He froze at how completely cold and bloodless and lifeless it felt, despite the slow beating of a pulse. He stared down at his unconscious friend and pulled his hand back slowly, unsure what to do. He was vaguely aware of Arthur and Lancelot coming to stand behind him somewhere, but his attention was suddenly caught by a movement.
It was brief – the barest twitch of a hand, but neither of the trio missed it.
"Merlin?" Gwaine murmured, leaning forward subconsciously and staring intently at Merlin's unresponsive face. Gwaine tapped him lightly on the cheek. "C'mon mate…"
And then – a slight mumble from his lips, the barest hint of a response; but it was enough for them. Merlin isn't completely lost.
"Give him some water," Lancelot suggested softly, stooping down next to Gwaine, who obliged, carefully trickling some of the liquid into Merlin's slightly open mouth. The fluid trailed in, and Merlin reflexively swallowed. Gwaine and Lancelot shared an almost relieved glance – it was the biggest response they'd had yet.
"He's still with us," Lancelot sighed in relief, smiling slightly.
"'Course he is… he's Merlin," Gwaine grinned at him, feeling some of the tension from before fade a little. Sure, Merlin wasn't exactly in the clear yet, but some response was better than no response at all. "Like he'd ever leave us willingly."
"Got… tha' right…" a weak voice from between them muttered.
All three knights launched closer to Merlin, as he moved his head to the other side, a low groan rising from his throat. His eyelids twitched sporadically and his lips formed some more, silent words which his friends strained to hear.
Then his eyes cracked open.
"Merlin! You're awake!" Gwaine exclaimed gleefully, refraining from clasping a hand to his shoulder or something.
A faint grin played around the corners of Merlin's mouth as his eyes swiveled around them, landing on Arthur and showing his relief that the prince was fine. Arthur was staring at him with an unidentifiable expression on his face, but his eyes clearly showed the alleviation he was feeling at seeing Merlin wake up. He nodded back at Merlin without a word, though, Gwaine noticed, but decided that he was most likely still in conflict.
Merlin tried to lift his head, supposedly to sit up, but gave up with a groan and let it slump back again, shutting his eyes briefly against the pain. "Ouch," he mumbled. Lancelot looked around and pulled Merlin's rucksack towards him, rummaging in it before pulling out a shirt to put under Merlin's head for comfort.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, eyeing him anxiously.
Merlin let out a breath and clenched his hands into fists but managed to give him a strained humorless grin. "I'm guessing you don't want me to answer that with 'like I've been stabbed'?" he tried, and Gwaine couldn't help but chuckle.
Beside him, Arthur growled a few curses almost incoherently before turning from them and stalking – though it was more like angry trudging – to the trees. They stared after him.
"Well, I guess he's not happy," Gwaine eventually said, raising an eyebrow at Lancelot, who shook his head.
"What's-?" Merlin started to ask but broke off with a cough. He winced horribly as the movement jarred his side and it started to bleed a little more, much to his friends' worry. He swallowed and took a steadying breath, scrunching his eyes shut tight.
"Water?" Lancelot offered and Merlin nodded jerkily. He carefully swallowed some and tried again.
"What's wrong with Arthur?"
Lancelot shot Gwaine an almost imperceptible glance and he understood – no need to get Merlin worried or anything. Although he wouldn't mind getting some answers himself, but now wasn't the time.
"He's just pissed off," he shrugged. "I don't think he's ever thought so hard before. It must be giving him a hell of a headache."
Merlin began laughing but it was cut short by more coughs – violent ones, causing blood to trail out the side of his mouth. Gwaine sat up in panic, feeling thoroughly guilty, and helped Lancelot sit Merlin up slightly, mindful of his wound. Merlin's coughs lessened and Gwaine was alarmed at how pale and sickly he looked then, and the way his eyes drooped and seemed unfocused.
He mumbled one last "Ow" before he slipped back under again. The knights laid him back down and Gwaine got the water cloth and carefully wiped away the blood from his lips. Lancelot's eyebrows furrowed anxiously as he changed the once-again bloodied bandages.
Gwaine sat back with a heavy sigh, feeling more morose than he'd probably ever had in his life. Not only morose, but useless too. He stared at Merlin's haggardly rising and falling chest and propped his head on a hand, mulling over a few things.
He'd bet any money and ale he could get his hands on that the fates or whoever it was up there planning this had a seriously twisted sense of pleasure. Who would want to see Merlin like this? It wasn't fair. And, yes, he knew that 'life wasn't fair', but somehow this didn't click with him.
Gwaine had seen many people die in his life. Hell, he'd killed a few of them too. He'd watched beheadings and beatings and bloodied corpses left out to rot. What he'd never done, though, was watched a friend… like this. Well, alright, so he hadn't really had many friends before he'd met Merlin and the knights – random people you got drunk with at a tavern didn't count – so he probably hadn't really had a chance to have a friend suffer. But that didn't change that the fact that it was Merlin… and, well, that just made it downright painful to watch.
He didn't think anyone who knew Merlin could stand this. The guy was overflowing with a benevolence that made him befriend every person he came into contact with – unless they were trying to kill Arthur or take over Camelot, that is. Then he turned into the overtly loyal friend that stood by the prince's side no matter what. When Gwaine first met them, he'd been thrown by the sheer devotion and confidence Merlin had in his prince and master. When he'd tried convincing Gwaine that Arthur wasn't like his father – wasn't like most nobles, for that matter – he had scoffed, fully skeptical of that. But he saw what he meant later on. Arthur had earned his respect and he had seen that Merlin was right. What was it he'd said to him? 'Maybe this one's worth dying for, eh?'
The knight's thoughts came to a stand-still. Worth dying for? He hadn't meant that literally! He felt a shiver run up his spine as the ominous foreshadowing of his jesting words hit him. And he realised that, no matter what anyone said or did, Merlin would sacrifice anything he could to save Arthur's life – to save any of his friends' lives, really.
And even if this time it wasn't even Merlin's doing, if it was just some random, mysterious workings, he had a feeling that Merlin would have chosen something like this anyway. If it meant saving a life.
.:`:.
Arthur returned from his trudge to God-knows-where a while later when Gwaine and Lancelot were debating whether they should risk moving Merlin or not. He leaned on a tree and watched them with an impassive face and tired eyes.
"If we jostle him too much it might make him bleed again," said Lancelot.
Gwaine shook his head. "Not if we're slow and careful about it. Look, we don't have to move him a lot, just get him on something softer than the ground. D'you know how uncomfortable it is to get knocked out and be left on the floor for hours after?" he argued.
The dark-haired knight sighed and glanced at Merlin. "Alright… We can lay out his bedroll there and move him onto it. Get him closer to the fire." He looked fleetingly over at the dismally blank prince before helping Gwaine move Merlin when the latter had spread out his bedroll. They covered him up, careful to lay him so he wasn't putting any pressure on his right side.
"That's better," Arthur said quietly, giving them a short approving nod. He seemed to come out his dismal and came closer to them. Gwaine wondered what he had been thinking about, though judging by his dull air and slightly drooped shoulders, it wasn't pleasant. He could guess the general gist.
So that was why he spoke up confidently.
"Merlin's a fighter," he claimed, staring at Arthur to get his message across. "I've never known him to give up on anything, so why the hell should he give up on his own bloody life?"
Arthur shook his head gloomily. "It's a mortal wound, Gwaine... Nothing short of a miracle..." he trailed off, voice resigned, face pained at the fact.
Lancelot looked up at the word 'miracle' and seemed to be thinking something, but Gwaine pushed on relentlessly. He shook his head at Arthur's resignation. "What, so - you've given up on him then? That's it?" he demanded crossly.
Arthur turned back to him, scowling. "No, of course not! I'm just saying - nothing we do can help! Nothing we're doing is helping - look at him! The most we've done is slow the bleeding, not even stopping it completely. We might as well call it a lost cause..." He stared down at Merlin and clamped his mouth shut at the last few words, looking like he regretted them. A resolute light seemed to spark in his eyes.
"It's not a lost cause!" Gwaine countered fiercely, glaring at him. Arthur shook his head slowly and looked him in the eyes, and the knight was almost taken aback by the slightly ashamed look there.
"No... You're right. It's not - it can't be. It just... seems hopeless," he said quietly, eyes lowering at the near-admittance of defeat.
"If it seems hopeless," Lancelot said slowly, looking at him intently. "Then why haven't you given up?"
Gwaine glanced at him, realizing where he was going. They had to get Arthur on track here, get him resolute enough to help. A resigned prince wasn't going to do much for them.
Sure enough, Arthur's eyes snapped to him fiercely, blazing in anger. "Because that would be admitting defeat! Admitting that - that Merlin's gone, beyond help; that there's no saving him. And hell will freeze ten times over before I let that happen!"
Silence.
"Well said, mate," Gwaine grinned, going over to clap him on the shoulder. "Took the words right outta my mouth. Now. What do we do?"
"I think the question is... what can we do?" Lancelot muttered. Arthur turned to glare at him but he shook his head and corrected himself. "No, I meant - what are our choices? Other than what we've already done - what else is there that we might have forgotten; something to help him?"
Another silence, but this time it was contemplative.
"Arthur was right," Gwaine murmured with a grimace. "We need a miracle."
"Miracles don't happen," said Arthur, but he stopped short, hesitation filling his gaze.
"If that was true, you'd be dead fifty times over," Gwaine told him, eyebrow raised. "And let's not even get into..." he trailed off, but they all knew what he was talking about.
Arthur subconsciously touched his side where his supposed wound had been, muttering silently to himself. But then he shook himself out of his thoughts, looking at them almost stubbornly. "Miracles... mean magic. And magic..." he frowned.
"Is forbidden and dangerous and evil, yes, we get it," Gwaine completed the memorized list tetchily, rolling his eyes. "But if magic could save Merlin's life, then I hardly see how that's evil."
Lancelot leaned forward, dark eyes boring into Arthur. "Yes; if it meant saving Merlin's life... Would you go for it?"
The young prince hesitated. He started to shake his head, then stopped, frowning. Eventually, he gave a resigned shrug. "I... I don't know. Besides," he said in a firmer voice, standing straighter, more sure. "Even if... that was possible - we don't have any magic at our disposal, do we? So it's not exactly an option."
Gwaine frowned slightly as those words contradicted Arthur's earlier statement; that sorcery had been at work here, to heal his injury - but if neither of the three of them had magic, then... But then he was hit by an epiphany. He cursed softly and a slow grin spread over his face. "But if it was an option? If there was a way to do it?"
They stared at him - Arthur in confusion, Lancelot in shock, almost anxious. Gwaine didn't stop to ask why.
"What are you thinking?" Arthur asked, a touch of doubt creeping into his voice, as though he didn't really want to know the answer. It was bordering on treason, after all. Gwaine inwardly snorted to himself - saying the word magic in a tone that wasn't disgusted and outraged was probably even treasonous.
"I just realised where we are."
He looked puzzled. "We're in a forest... Not far off the border of what used to be Cenred's land. How does that help us?"
Gwaine shook his head, continuing almost excitedly. "No - Remember when we got away from those bandits, when you were going to get the Cup of Life? Well, we're close to it!"
"Close to what?"
"The Druids' camp!" he exclaimed. "We can go there, ask them to heal Merlin. You mentioned that they healed Sir Leon, didn't you? And the Druids are peaceful people anyway, everyone knows that. So, we can get their help; they've got to know something... A charm or something to heal him!"
Lancelot grinned at him, looking relieved. "Brilliant idea. We'll have to get there as soon as possible then, with the condition Merlin's in... Arthur?"
Arthur was staring at them with an unreadable expression on his face. "You want us to... ask the Druids to heal Merlin with their magic." He said it more as a statement than a question.
"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" asked Gwaine, quite rhetorically. He thought he knew anyway.
Arthur's tone was almost hesitant, his eyes betraying how tense he was at the suggestion. If it was anyone else, Gwaine would have said they were scared (but of course, the Princess didn't get scared by anything); and he understood why - understood it, mind, not agreed with it. Arthur had spent his entire life learning that magic was evil and to stay away from it. Obviously, experience had shown him not all magic was like that, but to ask him to forget all those beliefs and entrust the life of his friend to the hands of a magical being... Well, it would be a miracle if he accepted it straight away. He didn't know what they'd do, or how, and that probably scared him a lot. Not that he'd ever admit it.
"It's our only hope right now," Lancelot told Arthur quietly. "Merlin's too ill to be taken all the way to Camelot and we need to have him checked properly by someone with knowledge. If the Druids can heal him too, that's just more reason to take him."
Arthur frowned and gazed at the floor. When Gwaine was thinking he wasn't going to give an answer, he looked up and declared, "One or two of us will go to get them. We can't carry Merlin all the way. I don't want to risk it."
His knights exchanged surprised looks. That was fast.
Gwaine saw the determined expression Arthur had and knew the prince didn't want to be the one going. He frowned stubbornly – he didn't want to leave Merlin either!
"Well, I'm staying with Merlin," he proclaimed.
Lancelot looked between him and Arthur and saw they were both resolute in staying. Sighing, he volunteered. "I'll go to the Druids then. It's fine. Just tell me where their camp is."
Arthur looked grateful. Gwaine was extremely grateful. They relayed the directions to Lancelot and he nodded, taking it in.
"Ride straight through the Forest of Ascetir, it'll be faster," Arthur instructed him. "Just stay on the look out for bandits, Cenred's kingdom will be full of them now that he's gone."
"I'll be as quick as I can." Lancelot nodded to them and headed to his horse. He mounted, looked back at Merlin one last time, and then galloped off.
.:`:.
Arthur crouched down next to Gwaine, both watching Merlin. He'd gotten worse over the hour, muttering deliriously, moving about restlessly. They guessed it was the infection setting in more, but until Lancelot came back from his visit to the Druids (hopefully with a healer), they couldn't do anything for him except what they'd been doing for the past hour.
"How long d'you think it'll take Lance to convince a Druid to help?" Gwaine asked him quietly. His eyes didn't waver from Merlin's pained face.
Arthur grimaced. "Hopefully not too long." He doesn't have much time left, he thought after, dropping his head to rest in his hands, fingers raking through his sweaty blond hair.
"This better damn work," muttered Gwaine, trailing a stick through the dirt in front of him. "Then we can just go back to Camelot and get a few drinks to celebrate." He cheered up slightly at the thought.
Arthur regarded him in amusement. "Celebrate what, exactly?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno, just thought I'd give a reason to get a drink."
"For once," the prince added under his breath.
Gwaine laughed and punched him on the shoulder. "You could use a drink right now. You are too damn morose, you know that? Bloody pessimist."
Arthur cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm a pessimist, now? And I thought that was Merlin."
"You're kidding? Merlin's the cheeriest bloke I've ever met!" Gwaine countered, shaking his head.
"When he's not complaining or fretting like a girl over cute fluffy animals, that is," Arthur said dryly with a touch of sarcasm.
They paused and watched as Merlin muttered incoherently again, as though sensing they were talking about him. His face scrunched up again momentarily in pain before he relaxed again and stopped moving.
"Go wash up, I'll watch over him," Arthur told Gwaine after.
Gwaine looked up and a slight grin made its way onto his face. "You trying to say that I stink? What, can't you handle a bit of grime, Princess?" he teased, but got up anyway, knowing that the prince wanted to sit with Merlin.
Arthur glared at him with a glimmer of an amused smile. "Nothing I say is going to make you stop calling me that, is it?" He shook his head resignedly.
The knight chuckled. "Nope. Unless Merlin stops calling you a prat, but I doubt that's gunna happen any time soon." Arthur muttered something under his breath about not getting his due respect from these people. Gwaine laughed and mock-bowed to him. "My apologies, Your Highness," he mocked cheekily, before going off to find the lake. Behind him, Arthur gave a reluctant chuckle.
His cheeriness was mostly forced, though, and his grin slipped off his face as he washed.
Now, if there was one thing Gwaine prided himself on (other than his devilishly good looks, of course... and downright disarming grin), it was his unwavering sense of humour. But even he was finding it damn near impossible to stay chipper and joking when his best friend was fatally injured, unconscious, and possibly on the brink -but no. He wasn't going to think that. Lancelot was going to find those Druids and get a healer here, and then Merlin will be back on his feet with that cheeky grin back in place. Thinking anything else would be giving up, like he'd told Arthur.
And Gwaine does not give up. Especially not on the life of his friend.
His too damn loyal, self-sacrificing, not-thinking-of-consequences, best mate.
Wasn't there a limit to what you can sacrifice to save a friend's life? But even if there was, Merlin wouldn't pay any attention to it. The guy bloody ran into an abandoned castle filled with wyvern because Arthur's life was in danger.
Gwaine had to stop and rethink that over. He sat back on his haunches, hair dripping wet and hand trailing in the water. Why did he automatically think of Merlin's mysterious injury and Arthur's healing as sacrificing? What had happened there? He just realised that, in between all the panicking over their friend and the thrill of some hope of healing him, they hadn't discussed – or even thought about – how exactly all this had happened.
He cast his mind back. Arthur's and Lancelot's argument… Lance obviously knew something, and Arthur suspected sorcery – what else could it be? It wasn't natural, Gwaine knew that much, but now he actually thought of it. What did Lancelot know that he was so reluctant and adamant not to share? Gwaine almost wished he hadn't cut their argument short now – they might have gotten some answers from him. He doubted it, though.
How did this start, though? Arthur was injured; they had tended to his and Merlin's wounds… And then when Merlin got up and insisted on watching over the prince himself and told him and Lance to get some rest… they'd woken to find him sporting the same wound that Arthur had had and-
Gwaine froze as it finally clicked. Merlin had magic. He couldn't believe it took this long to figure it out – though to give himself some credit, he had been worried about Merlin the whole time, and that hardly gave time or space to think over the events. But it was so obvious, so clear, now. He had always known, or suspected at least, that there was something about Merlin. Something big. He always came out of battle or facing dangerous creatures unscathed, even though he wore no armor or had a bloody weapon.
He had magic.
He must have somehow transferred Arthur's wound to his own body. Gwaine shook his head dazedly. Couldn't he have just healed him? Maybe it was too serious to heal…
But – damn it all. If it was that serious, did that mean the Druids wouldn't be able to heal him? Was he too far gone? The bloody self-sacrificing idiot.
Gwaine stood abruptly, scowling. This recent epiphany left him more anxious than before. Lancelot better get here fast…
.:`:.
A/N - *dies* Phew. Do you know what a killer that was? D: Not to self: never ever ever try to do Gwaine's POV in an all-serious, angst-filled story. He keeps wanting to make funny cracks at Arthur or something! 'Twas very frustrating, I tell you. I deleted and rewrote like fifty bits in this chapter.
But here it is. I hope you weren't too disappointed with this. Or found it inconsistent… cuz I think the middle bit was… Ah well. Can't do anything about it now. (Well, okay, I can, but I will not do anything. I'm not touching this chapter again. I've had enough of it, thanks). My favourite bit, though, had to be that convo they had in the middle, with Arthur all angry and depressed and Gwaine motivated and determined. *heart* He's so awesome.
Next chapter is Lancelot, and maybe a little snippet of Merlin at the end. It'll probably be a little shorter than the rest.
So, review, please. =) Critiques are always appreciated; as are ego-boosting, head-inflating, flattering compliments. xD
*goes off to eat chocolate* A wise person once told me that the cure to writing angst-fests (even if this wasn't all that angsty) is chocolates, and reviews. Sooo, unless you want me getting all depressed and humour-less while writing Mr. Emo himself – aka Lance – then gooo review. Lol.
(Aforementioned wise person is also known as the ever awesome and hilarious author Poisoning Pigeons in the Park. :D)
~izzy =3