A/N: I'm SO sorry it's been so long since I last updated. I meant to do so long before now, but with Christmas, New Year's, and all the family and celebration that goes along with them, I've had no time. I've decided that instead of updating this story every Thursday, I'm switching to Tuesdays. Now that the holidays are over, I plan to update once a week from now on until the story is finished. :) Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and enjoy "The Poisoned Chalice" – one I've been itching to write since the beginning! :D And…uh, as usual, not slash, just friendship. xD Please enjoy and REVIEW!

In the Back of Our Minds

Chapter Four: The Poisoned Chalice

.~*~.

.~*Merlin*~.

I don't remember much about the past few days. Most of what I do recall is scattered images, impressions, and voices. I remember pain – a lot of it – and the soft murmur of distressed voices floating around me. The last concrete thing that I remember was drinking the wine. After that, it was all a hazy blur until I woke up to learn that Prince Arthur had disobeyed his father and risked everything to save me.

.~*~.

I have to admit, I was extremely excited about getting to attend the banquet, even if I was going to have to wear that ridiculous, feathery hat – I swear, I think Arthur just did that to spite me, because I have never seen any servant wearing something that preposterous and fluffy before – ever.

I don't know for sure why it was such a big deal for me, getting to go to the feast. I was just there, as Arthur had informed me, to make sure his cup didn't go dry, but still, I was attending a banquet – a legendary peace treaty banquet – in the halls of Camelot, even if I was simply there as a servant wearing a goofy hat. Either way, I was excited, and it was a bit of a letdown when I concluded the evening with drinking out of a goblet filled with poisoned wine…

.~*~.

I can't believe how easily I fell for Cara's – well, Nimueh's – ploys.

I feel kind of stupid about it now, but she seemed so nice. And yes, exceptionally pretty, with her intense blue eyes, full red lips, and pale, flawless complexion…

I should have seen right through her.

The first time we met, when I barreled into her in the corridor as I was lugging Arthur's laundry away to wash it – Who doesn't have their formal wear cleaned in over a year? It smelled like mold and mildew, and no matter what Arthur says, I swear that the Feast of Beltane last year ended in a food fight – I only saw a harmless, beautiful girl. I didn't see the malice, the hatred, the ill intent bubbling just beneath the surface.

I've always been a bit nervous around girls – that's nothing new – but now I have even more reason to be suspicious of women, no matter how beautiful. I was taken in by her seemingly innocent blue eyes and the way she repeated my name after I told her. "Merlin."

I don't know what it is, really, that makes me get so flustered when a pretty girl talks to me. My palms get sweaty, my mouth gets dry, and my tongue gets twisted. My brain seems to shut down and I get shaky. It's pathetic, I know – Arthur would never let me live it down if he found out – but it's just how I've always been. This time, though, I had good reason to be nervous in her presence, if only I'd been prepared.

.~*~.

There's no way that I can accurately describe my reaction to what Cara told me when she pulled me out of the room. Arthur's in mortal peril – again – and it's up to me to save him. Again, after the fact, I feel so stupid for falling for her tricks, but she was so scared and seemed to genuinely want to help. Even if I had known, or at the very least, suspected she was lying, if there had been any possible chance that the chalice was poisoned, I would have done exactly the same. It's a good thing I did.

I didn't think there would be a risk in trying to save Arthur's life like that, though, not really. I suppose I could have thought through the situation a little more, weighed the possibilities, and come to the conclusion that I didn't have proof, therefore the results might not be the best. But if I had done that, Arthur would have drank from the goblet, and he would have been poisoned – possibly even dead by now (though rest assured, if it had been Arthur that had gotten poisoned, I would've done everything in my power to get the cure to him).

When Cara – Nimueh – told me that she had seen Bayard lacing Arthur's goblet with poison, I knew what I had to do. As difficult as it was for me to accept my destiny when the Great Dragon first told me of my fate, I've saved the prat's life three times already, and the idea is starting to grow on me. I've discovered that deep – deep – beneath his high and mighty prince persona, Arthur has the potential to be the king that I'm supposed to help him become.

Don't get me wrong – he still has a long way to go until he's at that point – but sometimes I can see tiny glimpses of the man he has the potential to become. But I have a feeling that we're both going to have to do some growing up before that can happen. Until then, I can do what I've been doing – watching his back, saving his butt, and trying to offer some little tidbits of my wisdom (and yes, I do have wisdom, even if everyone in the whole of Camelot believes me to be an idiot) along the way.

What happened when I burst into the hall and unknowingly set Nimueh's twisted scheme in motion started off a chain of events that revealed to me more than any words could the potential of what a great man – and friend – Arthur Pendragon can be. I still find it hard to believe at times, (especially when he's chasing me around with a mace yelling, "Block, Merlin, block it – stop being a pansy and pretend to be a battle hardened warrior, you hopeless idiot!) but Arthur really did risk everything to save my life, the life of his servant. Sure, I saved his life and one could say that he was only trying to return the favor. And maybe that's all there was to it. Still – I have a sneaking suspicion that Arthur was doing more than repaying a debt.

.~*~.

At first, I thought that I had misheard Uther. Of course, it was pretty easy to realize that I had heard him perfectly clear once I saw that goblet in his outstretched arm, just waiting for me to take it. I didn't understand – and I'm still not entirely clear – why he would do this. I was scared – there was no denying it – because I truly believed that the chalice was poisoned and I if I drank from it I would more than likely die. But why would Uther have me drink from the goblet?

He had been the one to appoint me Arthur's manservant as a reward for saving his life (and I'm still trying to figure that one out; how exactly is becoming a person's servant a reward for saving their life?) in the first place. In taking the poisoned goblet from Arthur and telling Uther of Bayard's treachery, I was, once again, attempting to save his son's life. And as a reward? I get to taste-test the poison.

I think my heart dropped to my feet right about then. When I reached out to take the goblet, I noticed that my hand was shaking slightly and that my stomach was feeling queasy. This is it, I found myself thinking. I'm going to die for Arthur already – the dragon will have to find some other fool to shape his character and destiny, because I'm not going to be around to see him become the Once and Future King.

While I was thinking this, I could hear a stirring in the room and I realized that Arthur was protesting, standing up for me. Again. Like he had when I had offered myself up as the sorcerer in Gwen's place, Arthur had instantly jumped in and tried to put a stop to it. My hand stilled a little as I realized that maybe I was dying for a more noble cause than I thought.

I can still remember the look in Arthur's eyes, the panic written all over his face. He was angry at his father, and scared – panicked – for me. He, too, knew that I was probably going to die if the cup was poisoned (and even if it wasn't, since Bayard looked positively murderous) and he tried to put a stop to it. Gaius protested but (like always) Uther shot him down. "You should have trained him better." What am I, a dog?

And then Arthur – "Merlin – apologize, this is a mistake, I'll drink it!" I'll be truthful – he really caught me off guard there. I had been mildly surprised when Arthur had defended me in front of the entire population of the feast, but when Arthur offered to go ahead and drink it in my place, I was shocked. I thought, if only for a moment, that he could be playing some kind of a cruel joke, mocking the sacrifice I was making for him. Now I feel extremely guilty for allowing that thought to pass through my mind, because when I saw him, and that look of terror, of worry, of fear for me in his eyes…

He was dead serious. And… I didn't know what to say. Except –

"No." I knew my fate was probably sealed, but what was Arthur thinking? The noble prat was offering to give up his life for my life that I was trying to sacrifice for his life? I was touched to the deepest degree – and I still am – but I could never let that happen. Any doubts about drinking the poison fled from my mind when Arthur frantically tried to grab the cup from me, announcing that he would drink it instead. There was no way I was going to let him die for me. Not when he had the makings of a great king – even if I didn't live to see it, at least I could die knowing that with a little guidance from the right person, Camelot would have an heir that would far surpass the current king.

.~*~.

The wine was a tad bitter. After I had shakily but determinedly drunk the contents of the chalice, I recall looking around the banquet hall and seeing the faces of all the people watching – I don't think I've ever had that many people's eyes on me at one time before. I saw Gwen, her face etched with a mixture of worry and sadness. Arthur, looking angry and apprehensive. Gaius, sad and forlorn, almost resigned – like he'd already signed my death certificate. Uther, face hard and unemotional, not shaken by the fact that he was about to make a nineteen-year-old boy taste-test some poison. Morgana, her beautiful, pale face stern, her expression guarded, although disapproval for Uther's decision radiating from her gray eyes. Bayard, angry, hand on his sword's hilt, itching to run me through, no doubt. The lords and ladies and servants and soldiers and knights from both Camelot and Mercia's eyes were all on me too. Some faces were full of pity, others indifference, and still others bloodlust and anger. The only face I don't remember seeing was Cara's – although now I realize that Nimueh was probably lurking in the shadows, smirking about her victory.

They were all watching me. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for me to die.

.~*~.

I felt relieved but also embarrassed when nothing happened right away – and then I felt apprehensive again because I heard Uther tell Bayard, "He's all yours," and I realized that the other king was probably just going to kill me anyway. I glanced at Arthur – he looked defeated, his head bowed. Gwen's eyes were filled with tears.

And then I felt it.

A little tickle on the inside of my throat. At first I thought I was going to sneeze. My throat kept tightening, though, and I could feel a pang of deep, burning pain in my stomach. My vision got blurry and my throat was tighter than I was used to. I think I put a hand to my throat, coughing, but my mind was so foggy by then that I could have imagined it. And then everything was swaying, I was dizzy, and my head was pounding, radiating a stuffy heat hat clogged my throat even more. A wave of severe dizziness crashed over me and I heard a low buzz – it could have been the murmur of voices or maybe it was the blood rushing to my head as the world tottered precariously and…

I think that's when I passed out.

.~*~.

I don't remember much of what happened next. I can remember little fragments of conversation overheard when I was semi-conscious, but most of them are disjointed and don't make sense. I remember being hot – burning up inside my own body with no way to escape. And I remember the pain – Gaius says I was delirious, thrashing around, mumbling, gasping, groaning with agony. I'm glad I don't remember too much of it, but I don't think I'll ever forget the all-consuming pain.

It radiated from my throat and chest to every inch of my body, poisoning my bloodstream and eating me alive. Neither Gaius nor Gwen, both of whom stayed with me while I was ill, like to talk about what I was like when I was poisoned, but they both agreed that I spent most of my time squirming, thrashing around. Gwen asked me if I were having a bad dream. I told her I couldn't remember, but in all honesty, I know why I was moving – I was trying to escape from the fire that was burning me slowly from the inside out.

.~*~.

"—his brow is on fire…" She sounded worried. I didn't like that. Gwen is such a sweet girl. I wondered who she was talking about and what was wrong with them. I didn't want her to be upset.

The voice that answered was hard to make out, it was so tight and filled with concern. "Keep him cool; it'll help control his fever."

Gwen said something else but I had succumbed to the darkness again.

The next time I heard something, it sounded like Arthur, but… not Arthur. He sounded worried, upset. What about, though?

"What happens to Merlin if I don't?"

I think I passed out again, mercifully, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have liked Gaius's answer.

More disjointed snatches of conversation followed on and off for at least a day, maybe two as I drifted in and out of semi-consciousness. I couldn't really make a good deal of sense out of them, but I was able to gather that something was very, very wrong but I couldn't wake up and see what it was.

"What language is that?"

"The poison is setting in."

"—nothing we can do?"

"He's getting worse…"

Someone was always by my side whenever I was aware of my surroundings but still crushed beneath the pain and cover of darkness. I could feel something cold and soothing stroking my aching, fevered head sometimes. Someone held my hand at one point, and I think I heard someone crying.

But no matter what, whenever any level of awareness returned to me, there was someone sitting there at my side, refusing to leave. I couldn't see them, no, and I probably can't prove it, either, but I could sense their presence.

When I ask Gaius about it, he abruptly changed the subject, which means I have all the proof I need of who sat with me the entire time I was sick.

.~*~.

There was one dream I had while I was delirious that I remember in perfect detail. The thing is, I'm not entirely sure it was just a dream.

It was dark, darker than anywhere I'd ever been. I was in a cave, I could tell because of the moist air that touched my skin and the way sounds (like a person gasping for breath, the clattering of a stone, or something crawly creeping up the wall of the cave) echoed eerily off the walls, rebounding to my ears. I didn't know why I was there, but whatever the reason, I had a strong feeling that it was extremely important.

And then I heard a voice. "Who are you?" it screamed. I recognized that voice – it was Arthur!

Suddenly my eyes adjusted to the darkness so that I could see what was going on, although somehow it was still as pitch-dark as it had been. Arthur was hanging onto an edge by his fingertips, sword resting precariously on a ledge as he struggled not to fall into the seemingly bottomless abyss below him. Large creatures – were those? They were! Giant spiders – scaled the cave wall, red eyes gleaming hungrily as they encroached on their prey – Arthur.

I didn't understand at first why he didn't do anything to help himself. And then I remembered that it was dark – so very dark. Arthur needed a light. And I did the only thing that made sense – I gave him a light.

.~*~.

I mentioned the dream to Gaius later, and he admitted that something very strange had happened. He said I had been mumbling in the language of the Old Religion, and that he had managed to convince Gwen it was just nonsense. But when I really started to incant, getting more agitated, Gaius told Gwen to fetch some water.

And then, according to Gaius, I had, while being completely unconscious, conjured a ball of light as I lay there. And I can't help but wonder if I had, without even knowing it, yet again saved Prince Arthur's life…

Gaius chuckled and said he wouldn't put it past me. It kind of shook me up to hear about it, though. Am I really that powerful? I don't know how strong my own power is, but Gaius said, yet again, that I must be pretty powerful to wield magic like that, especially when dying. It's kind of scary, not knowing your own strengths and limits.

.~*~.

I must have been really bad off after that, because the next thing I remember, I was slowly waking up from unconsciousness, clawing my way through the heat and the pain and the cold, clutching hands of death. I think I said something funny about the way Gaius was clinging onto Gwen and vice versa, but then Gwen kissed me and I forgot everything for a little while.

And, yet again, I am not in love with Gwen, but still…

That was a (very) nice "Welcome back," present all the same.

.~*~.

Gaius told me soon after I had woken up all that Arthur had done for me. He had defied his father, risked his life, and was now locked up in the dungeons for his efforts. As if this wasn't surprising enough in itself, imagine my shock when Arthur came to check up on me, to see how I was doing a few days later!

I was still a bit weak and shaky, but the poison had been, for the most part, flushed out of my system, and for that I was grateful. It had not been a pleasant experience and wasn't anything I want to repeat any time soon – or ever again.

I was getting ready for dinner, a scratchy blanket over my shoulders, when I heard his voice – loud and proud, as usual, but also with genuine concern in it. "Still alive, then?"

When I turned around to face him as he leaned on the back of the chair I was seated in, I could see the real concern in his eyes and I was struck, yet again, by the chance he had taken by risking it all to save me. He had saved my life.

I thanked him, and he regarded me for a minute, almost as if reassuring himself that I was indeed alive, before responding, "You too. Get some rest."

Gaius is right. Arthur may like to give me a hard time, but I'm starting to realize that he is a man of honor. What prince would risk his life for that of his servant? He may be a prat, but he's a brave one, and if I'm going to risk my life for a prince on a daily basis, I don't think there's one I'd rather risk it for than Prince Arthur.

.~*~.

.~*Arthur*~.

I am at a loss to explain Merlin's insane loyalty to me.

Not that I'm not grateful; I am. This makes the – what? – second time he's saved my life now. I just can't figure out why.

I know he hated me when we first met – he called me an ass and continues to call me a prat even now – and yet now, he shows extreme loyalty.

He drank from that cup when he knew it was poisoned. He knew he would die, and he did it anyway. For me.

.~*~.

When Merlin burst into the hall, babbling on about how the chalice was poisoned, I thought he'd gone mad. Then I saw the look in his eyes and I knew he was perfectly sane and that he knew what he was talking about. He fully believed that the cup I had just been about to drink out of was poisoned. I was afraid of what my father would do to him for the interruption – after all, this was a feast to celebrate a treaty between Camelot and Mercia, a treaty that was years in the making, not to mention that the goblets were gifts from King Bayard himself as a testament to our new alliance.

I was relieved when father didn't kill Merlin on the spot and actually gave him a chance to explain. I believe his exact words were, "Now, unless you want to be strung up, tell me why you think it's poison." His words made me want to wince, but in all honesty, that's about as nice of a reaction you'll get from my father after running in and disrupting a treaty feast by blaming the other party of breaking the treaty.

But then…

Then my father decided to let Merlin taste test the wine in the chalice and my heart stopped beating for a second.

The same horror and desperation that consumed me when Merlin tried to take Guinevere's place on the pyre as a sorcerer washed over me then – a wave of fierce protectiveness. I still can't explain it, but I knew that I couldn't let this happen to Merlin, he couldn't die. I tried to convince my father, telling him that if he was telling the truth, he would die, but Father cares little for servants, even if they are performing some noble deed. I even tried to snatch the cup out of Merlin's hand, determined to drink it. I know it was rash and that many people present thought I was crazy for trying to take Merlin's place, but I just couldn't let it happen.

This was Merlin for heaven's sake; he couldn't die!

He pulled the cup away and said, "It's alright." I could see the turmoil in his eyes and I swallowed heavily. I knew then and there that it wasn't alright. Merlin knew he was going to die and he was terrified. Still, he drank from the goblet. He did it anyway, knowing the consequences.

And when he started choking, bringing a hand to his throat, the fear in my stomach intensified to a raging storm of terror. When he hit the ground, I was the first one by his side, literally throwing myself on my knees beside him. It may not have been appropriate for me to be so worried about the selfless idiot, but I didn't care. And if I am ever faced with a similar situation again – heaven forbid – I would do the exact same thing.

.~*~.

Merlin was nothing but dead weight when I brought him to Gaius's chambers and laid him on the bed. Gaius's words kept echoing in my head: He's struggling to breathe.

No, that wasn't right, it couldn't be happening. Merlin couldn't be struggling to do something as natural as breathing. But he was. I could see it with my own eyes and I can still see him, gulping for air, his brow beaded with sweat, in obvious pain. I hated, absolutely despised seeing him in such a state. I've seen illness, and I've seen death, but on Merlin, it was just wrong. He's not a knight, not strong – his body isn't made to withstand poison or injuries in the slightest. Merlin's so slight, so naïve, so loyal… to see him unconscious, having to battle a poison that my own father forced him to drink…

I still find it hard to think about.

Before Gaius even told me about the difficulty of the quest for the cure, I knew I was going to go. No matter what, despite whatever forces attempted to stop me, disregarding the consequences, I was going to do whatever it took to save Merlin. And if I am ever put in that kind of position again, I wouldn't change a thing.

Gaius tried to change my mind, to convince me otherwise, and I knew that it was killing him to do so. I've seen Gaius with Merlin, and although he's gruff – he scares me sometimes, for heaven's sake! – I can tell that Merlin has become more than a son to our Court Physician. I'm almost envious. They've only known each other for a couple of months now, and yet Gaius and Merlin's relationship is already stronger and healthier than mine with my own father.

Ah. My father…

.~*~.

My father is a good man, I think, at heart, but he has an entirely different view of the world. He doesn't see people in general. He looks around him and sees three different kinds of people; first, the important people – royalty, nobles, loved ones, allies – secondly, the people – the people of Camelot as a whole, everyone within his kingdom – and thirdly, the unimportant people – the people who make up the people, the individuals, like the occasional commoner or servant that meanders into his line of sight.

I know – it's confusing, and it took me a while to decipher my father's thought processing. But growing up, watching him, I've found that it's true. He cares about important people and, yes, although some might argue, he cares about the people of Camelot. But those individuals that come into his life, like servants, commoners, that aren't, at the moment, lumped into one big group of "the people"? He cares very little for. Sacrifice one or two of the people for the rest of them, and the important ones.

That's just what he did to Merlin. He said that if King Bayard had poisoned my goblet that he wanted the pleasure of killing him himself. And I suppose that was partially true – Father does have a sort of bloodlust at times, especially when it comes to traitors – but I could see it in his eyes. That wasn't all. If Bayard wasn't a traitor, Father would have been in a lot of trouble had he made him drink from the cup. With Bayard's death, war would have broken out. Also, since the treaty was signed, Bayard and Father had become close friends. If what Merlin said was not true, Uther would have ultimately killed a valuable friend and ally.

So even though there was a chance that Bayard was a traitor, Father still sacrificed Merlin's life – an "unimportant" person's life – for another, potentially important person's life. That is bothersome within itself, but when I take into account that the person he risked was the one who had given him the information in the first place, that was trying to do good, trying to save my life… And of course, there's the fact that the life in question was Merlin's. I haven't figured out just what it is about the idiot that makes me so protective of him, but the point still remains – Father was willing to kill Merlin, to have him drink a deadly poison, all without a second thought.

All those things he kept saying about Merlin really ground at my conscious and increased my anger to my father. First he forces my servant to drink the poison, then he doesn't allow me to go on the quest to save him, and then all those words he spoke…

"Because his life's worthless?"

No, because it's 'worth less' than yours.

"I can save him!"

I will not let you jeopardize the future of this kingdom over some kind of fool's errand!

"I will not just stand here and watch him die!"

Then don't look.

And that's not even mentioning what he did later, when I brought the cure back for Merlin…

.~*~.

I'm grateful that Morgana came to convince me to go find the cure. Not that I wouldn't have come to the same decision on my own. In all honesty, I think my mind was already made up before she even entered my chambers. But I guess I just needed time to think. My father had said some things that really shook me to the core, expressed some ideas that make me stop and think – ideas that at the same time made sense to me and repulsed me.

Father didn't want me to go because I'm the future king of Camelot, the Crown Prince. If I were to die, he would be left without an heir and without a son. That was a good point, and one that, had I decided to do what Father wanted and turn a blind eye on Merlin's suffering, would have been the linchpin of my decision. I care about my people, very much. If my father died without an heir, the people of Camelot would be left without a ruler and without stability. They would be at the mercy of anyone that had their eyes on Camelot's prosperity.

But the thing is, I also care about Merlin. I don't know why, but I do. When Father and I were arguing, I told him that my motivation for saving Merlin was because Merlin had saved my life. And that's true. But there was something else…

I wasn't just going to stand by and watch Merlin die.

The thought of Merlin, of all people, dying theslow and painful death that Gaius spoke of was – and is still – unfathomable. I only wish that I had been quicker, because from what little Gwen and Gaius have revealed to me, since it took nearly two days for me to get the cure to Merlin, he went through all the suffering part – the "slow and painful" – and was just inches away from the aforementioned "death." It shakes me to know how close I was to losing Merlin and baffles me to think how much it terrifies me.

.~*~.

The quest in itself was not too bad. Sure, there were the enormous cave spiders... the beautiful woman that betrayed me and left me to die… the dangling from a narrow rock face in a dark cave, looming above my death… the fierce and poisonous "one bite kills all" bundle of scales Cockatrice… but other than that… hey, no problem.

Two things about the quest really stood out in my mind, however: the girl, beautiful and treacherous, and the light, calming and mysterious.

.~*~.

The girl.

I should have realized from the beginning that something about her was off. After all, she said that she had run away from her master and gotten lost… but then, when the time came, she said that she knew this place and could take me right to the very flower I was searching for. I'll admit – it was stupid of me, but for the record, I think that she used her magic to enchant me somehow, make my intelligence not as sharp as usual. Merlin would scoff at this assumption, but I can give him extra chores, so it all evens out.

Anyway, the girl. When she first started doing magic, I was frightened, naturally, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, she would use her powers for good, to help me reach the Morteus. Father would have my hide if he knew I thought that, but after the idea that some magic could be used for good a week or so ago, when someone used magic to cure Gwen's father, I thought that perhaps magic was more than just evil.

I'm still struggling with these thoughts. After the ledge beneath my feet began to crack and crumble and the woman's voice got harsher, louder, I knew that she was evil and that she was trying to kill me. And after having someone attempt to take your life with magic, it's a bit difficult to hold on to the tiny suspicion that there's more to magic than just ill intent.

But someone used it to heal Gwen's father.

Hmm… perhaps the same person that used magic for good to cure Gwen's father used it for good to help me out of the cave…

Yeah, right. The probability of that is slim to none. Although, after all the close calls I've had, with the bad guys just managing to be stopped in the nick of time, I've begun to wonder if maybe I do have some sort of guardian angel out there watching over me.

.~*~.

The light.

Not much can be said about the light. I don't know who sent it or where it came from. I just know that it came right in the nick of time, right when I needed it the most.

And it was magic.

This magic was somehow different than the woman's magic. Hers had been dark, cruel, and deceitful. This had been warm, innocent, pure. If there's a such thing as good and wholesome magic, this was it. I didn't mention it to my father, of course, but still…

I haven't been able to get that light out of my mind.

.~*~.

I wasn't surprised that father had me arrested when I arrived back in Camelot, or that he put me in jail. He's a proud man and when his own son, the Crown Prince of Camelot, blatantly disobeys him, there is going to be a consequence. I just wish I could have foreseen how far he was going to go with his punishment.

He was, for all intents and purposes, going to kill Merlin.

When he crushed that flower in his hand, the world stopped spinning.

My father was going to let Merlin die to punish me for trying to save him.

It was so utterly, horribly, wrong. I wanted to yell at him, to throw a fit like a child, anything, because it broke my heart to see my father acting so… tyrannical. I know that as a king, he has to make hard decisions, as will I, and that sacrifices sometimes must be made, but this was no sacrifice. There was no need for Merlin to die, there never was a need, especially when the cure was right there, so close to him.

It was murder.

I don't think I've ever hated my father or felt such a strong sense of rebellion against him in that moment. After I walked away, saying something about how when he let me out in a week, I could find myself a new servant, I was desperate to get that crumpled flower lying outside of my cell. It was the only hope I had left, even if it was down here with me while Merlin was upstairs dying.

When I finally reached it, I just held it, sitting there on the cold, dirty floor with it sitting gently in my shaking hands.

I cannot describe the relief that washed over me when I saw Guinevere with that tray of food. I knew she'd come to see if I had the Morteus and I was only too happy to give it to her.

Then all I could do was sit in the cell, praying that she got to him in time and that Merlin would live.

.~*~.

Although Morgana came to inform me that Merlin was alive and slowly on the road to recovery, I wouldn't fully believe it until I saw him, awake and lucid, for myself. Again – why did I care? The answer still eludes me, although I suppose that I have come to accept that I do care about the idiot's well-being, at least marginally.

At any rate, it was an agonizingly slow wait until Father let me out of the dungeon – a few days early, I might add, what with his release of Bayard and acceptance that this was all a very clever scheme by an extremely wicked sorceress. I had to deal with my father and the peace treaty and the ordeal with Bayard before I could do anything else, but as soon as I was able to break away from Father, I went straight to see how Merlin was doing.

I was glad to see that he was doing a lot better, although his face was still pale and his eyes were a bit dulled – from the pain, exhaustion, or both, I didn't ask. I was just relieved to see him alive. Of course, I didn't exactly tell him that in so many words, but surely he got the picture. After all, I didn't make him jump right back into the job – even though I had some seriously dirty clothes after running around after that flower. I had been planning on dragging him back to my chambers to do some more work, but when I saw how pale and weak he still looked, sitting – quietly at that! – at the table, a rough and scratchy blanket over his shoulders, my defenses broke and I decided to give him the evening off.

He's mostly better now, fumbling around like the idiot I know and, well, tolerate. Sometimes, though, I can still see moments where his eyes dull, if only for a second, and I realize that he hasn't quite moved past this yet.

That had to be scary.

The sincerity on his face when he thanked me was enough to show me how close he really had come to dying and how much what I'd done meant to him.

Well, I suppose if I'm going to go gallivanting off to save a servant's life, it'll be Merlin's. After all, he's entertaining if nothing else, even if he is a world-class idiot.

A/N: Whew! That was a long one; it took me two days to write (so good thing I started early, eh?). Hope you enjoyed, and I'll be posting chapter five ("Lancelot") in a week! Please REVIEW! xD

~Emachinescat ^..^