Warnings: Graphic descriptions of wounds / resetting of bones

Chapter 7

"Merl...iot, wake u..."

"...ot working, he's...get out...here, Sire."

"Sire!"

There were more muffled shouts, but Merlin could not distinguish them through the hazy film covering his mind. He didn't think the guards were arguing, as they had never spoken before. He also knew it couldn't have been Mystral. The voices obviously belonged to men. Perhaps they were the mercenaries from before?

The thought struck fear into his very core. If the mercenaries had come back, perhaps that meant the others were being taken away. Were they arguing about taking him as well? He hoped they did. Merlin didn't want to be with Mystral any longer, nor did he want to chance being separated from Arthur or the knights.

He felt himself being lifted by strong arms. Definitely not Mystral or her puppets, he was sure. This man was big. There was something familiar about the sensation, but he couldn't quite place it. His eyes wouldn't obey his weak command to open, so he couldn't see who held him.

The hushed voices pierced the thick layer of water covering his ears. He couldn't make out any words. A couple of the men sounded angry, while the others seemed more urgent. After a particularly harsh sounding articulation, everything fell silent.

Whoever held Merlin shifted slightly, rubbing the open lacerations on his back. Merlin tried to hold it back, but he whimpered in pain. The movement suddenly stopped, and he allowed himself to relax a bit again. He didn't think he was going to be harmed. For the first time in a long time, Merlin felt safe. Soft tendrils of sleep drifted up towards his struggling consciousness, beckoning him. He went.

Percival tried to adjust his arms so that Merlin was in a more comfortable position. Merlin's brow furrowed and he whimpered in pain, and the knight immediately stopped. Gwaine gave his unconscious friend a look as though the sound wounded him. Arthur angrily strode into the lead, every muscle in his body vibrating with anticipation. They cautiously made their way up the stairs leading out of the wretched dungeon, keeping Merlin thronged between them for ultimate protection.

Arthur halted at the top of the stairs. On either side of the entryway were the two guards that oftentimes accompanied Mystral. They were crumpled at their posts, and obviously dead. After checking their pulses just to be sure, Arthur took their swords from their belts and moved on. Leon took the other sword.

"We need to find bandages," Elyan whispered, shooting a furtive glance to Merlin. Gwaine had taken stride with Percival to support Merlin's lolling head, trying to avoid further injury.

Arthur nodded curtly without looking back. He stopped at the first doorway he came across, and was surprised to see it was a bed chamber. It was bare but for a neatly-made bed on the far wall, a single mirror standing near the dressing screen, and a dresser. "Take him in here," said the king after making sure it was indeed empty.

Percival complied, and laid Merlin as gently as he could on the plush down bed. Gwaine straightened a pillow before placing his head down on it. The men stepped back, unsure what to do. The state of their friend was horrendous, to say the least. He had lost weight he could ill afford to, and he had dark bruises underneath both eyes. What they could see of his body in the light streaming in from the windows made them feel sick. Burns, bruises, and cuts littered his face and body. His wrists were raw and bloody from the manacles. They couldn't see his back, but they were sure it was in equally horrible, if not worse, condition.

"We need bandages," Elyan repeated weakly.

"Leon," Arthur said from the doorway. It was then that they realized the king had not followed them inside. "You come with me, and we'll make sure there's no one else here. Elyan and Gwaine, go search for bandages, linens, water, medicines, whatever you can find. Percival, allow no one to touch Merlin."

Percival nodded, as did the others, and they all went quickly. They were all glad for the task. It both kept them busy and it helped their suffering friend. Each of them wished whole-heartedly that it had been he lying nearly dead on that bed rather than Merlin. Percival stood alertly at the foot of the bed, glaring at the doorway as though daring an enemy to come through.

Leon and Arthur continued down the hallway, followed closely by Elyan and Gwaine. There was only one hallway thus far, and the next two rooms were chambers similar to the first. No one else seemed to be around. They reached the end of the hall and turned the corner. The next corridor was identical to the first, though it split in two directions. The doors lining this hall were all open to reveal still more bed rooms.

"How many people live here, mate?" Gwaine asked under his breath.

"None, it seems," Leon whispered back, brow furrowed.

The small group reached the end of the corridor and split up. Leon handed his sword to Gwaine before following at Arthur's heels. The farther the king and his noble knight went, the fewer rooms there were. Bed chambers soon gave way to broom closets and an armory, and then a broad oaken door that led outside. Across the inky black moat was a forest, and a clear path wound through it. Arthur nodded in approval, and promptly turned back to return the way they had come.

"I think we're alone here, Sire," Leon ventured.

Arthur's face was stony, but he acknowledged Leon's statement with a curt nod. He refused to speak other than to give orders. Leon knew this behavior was caused by Arthur's guilt and terror for Merlin. He wisely chose not to comment.

Gwaine and Elyan, who had gone in the opposite direction, ran into no one as well, and had come to the conclusion that there was no one about in the place but them. The bed chambers had immediately been replaced with broom closets and small kitchens, which they raided for water. Farther down the hall was a physician's chambers, though it was hardly stocked. Unfortunately, there were no labels, and as the only one who knew anything about helpful herbs was unconscious, they left it be. They did take every strip of bandaging they could find, practically ransacking the room. On the way back, Elyan found a linen closet and loaded as much as he could into his arms. They hurried back to the first room.

Percival tensed at the sounds of footsteps approaching. He had, moments earlier, picked up a poker from the fire grate beside the door as a weapon. No one would stand a chance against his bare hands, but he wanted to make quick work of the attacker so he could ascertain Merlin's safety. The huge man immediately relaxed when he saw it was only Gwaine and Elyan, who had come back with supplies.

"How is he?" Gwaine asked.

Percival cast a look over his shoulder. "He hasn't woken yet."

Gwaine nodded. "Perhaps that's best for him."

Elyan leaned over Merlin and took a closer look at his wounds, despite how queasy he felt. "I think a few of these are becoming infected," he announced. Gwaine cursed loudly, and came to Merlin's other side. "We need to get him cleaned up."

"I'm so sorry, Merlin, my friend," Gwaine said forlornly, putting a gentle hand on Merlin's forehead.

But that was a mistake, as at the contact Merlin's eyes flew open. Through his panic, he didn't recognize Gwaine and tried to scurry away from him, reopening several clotted lacerations on his back. He hissed at the pain. Gwaine reached to help him, saying calming words, but Merlin didn't hear them. He batted Gwaine's hands away, and then cried out hoarsely when Elyan tried to keep him from falling off the bed.

"Merlin!"

Merlin stopped instantly, wild eyes snapping toward the door. Arthur hurried into the room, holding out placating hands to his manservant.

"A - Ar'hur?" Merlin asked, clearly confused.

"Yes, Merlin," Arthur said, taking Elyan's place at his side. "You need to calm down. We are going to help you. You're safe."

The king's words seemed to dawn on the man, and understanding filled his eyes. Merlin cast his gaze around at the men surrounding him, and seemed to recognize Gwaine, much to the knight's relief. Leon, across the room, set down the several leather bags he had been carrying. "We've found our things in one of the rooms," he said. "And the way out."

"Out," Merlin repeated. He never removed his eyes from Arthur's. "We nee' get out," he said. His voice was shot, hardly over a whisper. The grating sound tore at Arthur's heart. He remembered Merlin's horrible screams, but shook his head to clear it.

"We will get out, Merlin," Arthur said. "But we're going to take care of you first."

Merlin shook his head, looking like a lost puppy. "No, no," he said. Merlin knew he had to make Arthur understand that they needed to leave immediately. Merlin would have to reveal his magic, and tell Arthur that the wards Mystral had placed prevented him from using his. In his feverish state, he hadn't even realized that he was able to talk again.

"Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin interrupted, still shaking his head despite the pain it gave him. "Hafta leave, hafta go," he said urgently. "M' magic is...I can't, m' magic-"

"I know, Merlin," Arthur said, suddenly looking as though he were going to cry.

Merlin stopped and gaped at him. "Ya kn-know we, we hafta leave, Ar'hur."

"It's okay, Merlin," Arthur replied sternly. "The witch is dead. She can't hurt you anymore. No one is going to hurt you."

The manservant only looked confused, still minimally shaking his head.

"Merlin," Elyan said, and got his attention. He held up a rag he had carefully wet. "We need to clean your wounds."

At that, Merlin looked down at himself, craning his neck forward. His eyes widened as though he had just noticed the horrible wounds, and Arthur cringed when he realized it probably was. But when Merlin looked up again he was shaking his head. "Hafta go," he said. "Out, we nee' get out."

His head fell back into the pillow, his chest heaving as though he had just run a mile. The blackness was creeping into the edges of his vision, and for the first time since his capture Merlin cursed it. He needed to explain that they had to leave. They didn't understand!

"M' magic," Merlin tried one last time.

Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's forehead. "The sorceress is dead. She can't hurt you. Go to sleep, Merlin."

Merlin tried to shake his head, but he was so very tired, and Arthur's order - suggestion? - sounded so very good to him...And with that his eyes slipped closed and he fell unconscious once more.

Arthur sighed heavily and stepped back once Merlin seemed to have drifted off. He clenched his fists to hide that his hands were shaking, and nodded to Elyan to start.

"We'll need to get his clothes off," Percival said softly.

"Is his bag over there?" Arthur asked Leon, who answered yes. Leon brought it to Arthur, who searched through it. Out came Merlin's borrowed-from-Gaius medicine bag. He set it at the foot of the bed and continued rooting through it. "Bloody hell, Merlin, you idiot," Arthur said, throwing the bag back down. Gwaine shot a glare at the king's back, but didn't falter in his task of supporting Merlin in his sitting position so Elyan could bathe his marred back.

Arthur stalked over to the pile of bags and dug out his own. He pulled out a clean shirt and a pair of his pants, then laid them beside the medicine bag on the bed. "Once he's cleaned up," Arthur said, "he can wear those. Until we get back to Camelot, so the idiot can get his own clothes."

The knights suddenly understood. Merlin hadn't packed any extra clothes, clearly expecting to have gotten back to Camelot on the day they were due.

"I'll get more water," Percival offered, leaving the room.

Leon had opened the medicine bag, hoping to find something to ward off infection. He squinted at Gaius' handwriting. He sighed. The names of the herbs were written on the tab, but not its uses. The knight didn't quite trust to ask Merlin when he woke.

Everyone in the room froze when Merlin moaned in pain. Once his breathing had evened out again, Elyan cautiously went back to cleaning a particularly nasty lash that intersected several others. The dark knight's stomach was churning, but he forced himself onward. Merlin's health was more important than his petty queasiness.

The going was slow and painful for all involved. Each of Merlin's small cries or gasps wrenched the others' hearts. Arthur swallowed past the thick lump in his throat. It was for that that he had tried to speak as little as possible. He just didn't trust his voice. Arthur mostly tried to avoid looking at his poor friend, who was being cradled against Gwaine's chest as Elyan tended to him. A pile of dirty, bloody rags was growing at Elyan's feet. Arthur felt a bit jealous at Gwaine's free show of emotion. Tears ran down his cheeks, wetting his thicker than usual scruff. One hand was absently petting Merlin's hair.

Percival came back with the water and set it near Elyan. But by that time Merlin's wounds had been as cleaned as they could under the circumstances, and they began the process of wrapping. They started with his torso, wrapping the first layer of bandages gently to accommodate his back, and then another layer to bind his broken ribs. He seemed to breathe a bit easier after that. The knights made sure to prop him up on a small mountain of pillows. Arthur and Leon tried to stay out of the way. They had the least medical training out of all of them.

Merlin's arms were wrapped yet. There was a bit of debate whether to wet the bandages for the burns on his arms, with Gwaine arguing for comfort but Elyan arguing for sense. It was eventually decided against because they were not sure whether the damp could lead to infection.

Gwaine was tasked with gently cleaning Merlin's face and trying to keep the fever down while Percival and Elyan carefully removed Merlin's trousers. Merlin opened his eyes as his injured leg was jostled, but didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings and swiftly fell asleep again.

The more Arthur saw of his friend's body, the angrier he became. He regretted killing the sorcerer so quickly. He wished he'd given her a few decorations. Arthur quickly shook the thought from his head. He needed to focus on getting Merlin help.

He forcefully averted his eyes from Merlin's legs, which were in nearly the same state as the rest of him. Arthur needed to decide on the next course of action. Should they all stay, or all leave as a group? Was Merlin well enough to be moved? He didn't think so. Merlin didn't look as though he could sit up, let alone walk. Carrying would be painful for him as well. Although Merlin had been so adamant to leave, Arthur didn't think he'd be able to. But Merlin seemed absolutely terrified - with every right to be. Mystral had hurt him in ways he didn't ever deserve. Arthur wouldn't wish that sort of treatment on his worst enemy.

Arthur considered sending a pair of knights out to Camelot. But they had no idea where they were at the moment, and roaming around in the woods where mercenaries had easily overtaken them as an armed group didn't sit well with him. But then, no one in Camelot knew of their whereabouts, and obviously had yet to track them down. Otherwise, Arthur was sure the rescue party would have come by now. Gwen would be worried sick.

"Merlin?"

Arthur sat up and looked owlishly over at the knights huddled over Merlin. He was moving, and the men were reluctant to touch him, especially after his earlier episode. The king stood and made his way over.

Merlin's eyes were half-lidded and roaming aimlessly. Elyan and Percival had stopped tending to his leg when Gwaine had said his name, and watched him closely for any sign of panic.

"Merlin, mate," Gwaine said again, removing the cool cloth from his head. "Can you hear me?"

His glazed eyes opened a bit wider as Gwaine spoke, and stopped moving about. He stared up at the canopy, and Arthur glanced up to make sure there was nothing dangerous. There was nothing. Arthur opened his mouth to attempt to wake his friend, but Merlin spoke first.

"Lan'lot?"

Each of them stiffened. Gwaine was the first to move, dipping the cloth into the water basin beside him and wringing it out. He placed it upon Merlin's head and leaned closer to whisper into Merlin's ear. Merlin didn't seem to hear him.

"Don' go, Lan'lot," he said, struggling to move. Arthur put a hand on Merlin's shoulder to keep him still, and Percival and Leon gently held down his legs, looking sorry. Elyan, after a split second of hesitation, resumed his task of treating the burn below Merlin's bony hip.

"Merlin," Arthur said in the most commanding tone he could muster, "Lancelot is not here. You're delusional. Go back to sleep, Merlin."

"Lan...Lan'lot," Merlin repeated. "M' magic is...I dunno wh...Lan'lot, please help me!" His voice had risen to a hysterical pitch, and he had stretched his left arm up into the air as though the deceased knight were floating above him. Tears ran from the corners of Merlin's eyes, and Arthur and Gwaine had to hold him down. Gwaine too was crying freely.

After only a few more seconds of struggling, Merlin seemed to lose his strength and sank back into his pillows. His eyes didn't close, though he was obviously fighting to stay awake. Arthur picked up the water flask beside him and uncapped it. He pressed the skin to Merlin's lips and tipped it gently. Some water ran down Merlin's chin, but he drank. Promptly afterward his eyes slipped closed once more.

Elyan wrapped Merlin's leg as quickly as he could, and then they dressed him in Arthur's clothes. The fine outfit was entirely too large on Merlin's thin frame, but that couldn't be helped. It was better than leaving him naked. Leon fetched another blanket from the pile of linens they had found earlier, and it was draped over Merlin to keep him warm. His fever had risen, though he hadn't woken again.

The knights watched him breathe for a long moment, suddenly feeling helpless once more. They weren't entirely sure how to feel that Merlin had begged an apparition for his help. Even though Lancelot had been a dear friend of Merlin, he had been dead for a long while, and never mentioned after his betrayal of Arthur and consequent suicide.

"Should we," Percival started uncertainly, "Should we take him back to Camelot? He needs Gaius."

"I don't think we should move him," Gwaine said immediately. "You lot move out and fetch Gaius here. I'll look after him."

"No," Arthur said. "Too dangerous. If you're attacked, Merlin is at risk."

"Merlin's at risk no matter what," Elyan pointed out.

Leon cut in, "We don't know how far from Camelot we are. If we leave out to bring Gaius here, it could take much longer. Even if we make it back to Camelot from here with no delays, there's no telling how much time that would be, and then the time would double to bring Gaius back."

"If we take Merlin with us," Gwaine said, "it'll be painful for him, and he'll be open to the elements. Not to mention bandits and all the others bastards out there."

"We could wait until Merlin is a little better," Percival said.

"But there's no guarantee he will," Gwaine said vehemently, his voice rising.

Arthur raised his voice to stop the argument before it got out of hand. "If you'd all shut up for a moment, so I can think!"

Four pairs of eyes locked onto the king, who stood pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I wan' to go," said a quiet voice.

Arthur and the knights looked to Merlin in surprise. He was looking at Arthur through half-lidded eyes, but they were, for the first time, clear. The young warlock was quite lucid at the moment, much to their relief.

"We will go to Camelot," Arthur assured him. "We're just trying to decide the best method."

"I walk."

Arthur scoffed, only just containing an incredulous laugh. "No, you won't."

"Ah," Gwaine said cheekily, "don't think you'll be going anywhere anytime soon, mate. But I'll be sure to bring you plenty of mead while you're bedridden."

Merlin's lips twitched upwards, but he didn't reply. "Carry."

"That's no good, either, Merlin," Arthur stressed. "We've been captive for a long while. We're weak as well."

"Oh." Despite the utterance, Merlin only watched Arthur expectantly. He knew full well that Arthur was not going to leave him behind.

"Sire," Leon spoke up. When Arthur indicated he should speak, he said, "Perhaps we could find some sort of vehicle to transport Merlin. If we could find a cart, we could bed it and pull Merlin in it."

Merlin nodded in agreement. "Pull," he said, looking Arthur.

Arthur looked reluctant, but sighed. "Go and see what you can find."

Leon nodded, and Percival left with him.

"Ta'e me wi' you?" Merlin asked again.

Arthur looked down at him. He looked so pitiful and broken, and yet so hopeful. It made Arthur feel sick that anyone could find it in themselves to hurt Merlin like that. Hurting Merlin was like...like hurting a child. It was horrible.

"Yes, Merlin," he said, forcing an airy tone. "I suppose we will take you with us. I don't want to have to break in a new manservant after all, so you'd better get well quickly. I'll give you...one whole day off."

"One?"

"One."

Merlin was silent for a second, looking thoughtful. "One?" he repeated.

"One, Merlin. Must I spell it for you?"

"You can' spe', brat."

Gwaine laughed uproariously. It wasn't funny or clever, not at all, but it was so Merlin that his relief burst forth in the form of laughter. Elyan couldn't help but to join in, and after a moment so did Arthur. Merlin chuckled a bit, but it pained him, and the knights and Arthur immediately sobered up.

"One week," Merlin said after a moment.

"I said day, Merlin, one day," Arthur teased. His heart was soaring at Merlin's insistence. It meant that his mind was, despite everything he had been through in the past few days, relatively sound.

"Week," he said. "Will says so, too."

The smile on Arthur's face immediately faded. "Who?" he asked, though he knew exactly who Will was. It had been years since he had heard mention of Merlin's childhood friend from Ealdor. The one who'd taken a bolt to save Arthur's life.

"Will," Merlin said, his eyes sliding from Arthur to the empty space beside him. "He says...I shou' get a week." He smiled, though this time Arthur and Gwaine could see that he had lost a bit of his lucidness.

Gwaine wet the cloth again, feeling more than a bit put out. The fever still hadn't diminished.

"Okay, Merlin," Arthur conceded, losing his bantering tone. "One week it is. Drink this." He held the water up to his injured manservant's lips, and he drank greedily. Arthur had to tell him to slow down before he made himself sick.

As the king moved to place the water down, Merlin reached out and gripped the hem of Arthur's shirt. Arthur blinked at him and asked if he was still thirsty, but Merlin shook his head.

"M' magic," he said, looking upset. "I didn' me...I ha'...magic, Ar'hur."

"It's all right, Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin shook his head again, looking more frightened than upset. "I didn' mean to be - betray you, Ar'hur," he said. "Didn' wan...wante' to tell you, but..."

"Merlin," Arthur said sternly. "It was not your fault. I do not hold you responsible for that witch's actions. I know she's done to you - at least, some of it," he amended quickly at the blooming horror on Merlin's face. "It was not your fault. You did not use magic."

"Not ang'y at me?" Merlin asked sadly.

"Of course not, you idiot," Arthur replied. "Go to sleep, Merlin." Arthur gently removed Merlin's hand from his sleeve and laid it gently on the bed.

Merlin nodded a bit, looking both relieved and confused, and slowly drifted off again.

Arthur sighed heavily, feeling frustrated. Why had Merlin thought Arthur would be angry? Obviously Merlin had had no control over the situation. He was the victim. Mystral had used magic as a form of torture. His scowl deepened. Had she said something to him? Or was it just Merlin's fever? Merlin had already hallucinated that two dead friends were present.

"We should do something about his shoulder and fingers."

Arthur jolted out of his thoughts, looking to Elyan, who had spoken, before directing his attention to the sleeping Merlin. It was then that he noticed his right shoulder was in an odd position - obviously dislocated. He winced, knowing it would be painful to put back into place. Then he looked at Merlin's hands. He had neglected to see that when Merlin had grabbed his sleeve, he had curled his last two fingers into the cuff as a means of holding on. All ten of his fingers were purple and swollen. Several were bent at odd angles. If they weren't set, Arthur knew they would heal as they were, and could have a crippling effect.

He rubbed a hand down his face. "I suppose we should," he said at last. "Have we got anything we can use as splints?"

"I'll look, Sire," Elyan said, turning on his heel.

Arthur met Gwaine's red-rimmed gaze. Behind the sorrow was steely determination.

"Shall we do his shoulder, then?" Arthur asked, though he hadn't meant it as a question.

Gwaine nodded. "Sorry, mate," he said softly, standing.

"We'll do it the way Gaius taught me," Arthur said firmly, making his resolve known. Gwaine nodded. Normally he would never agree, but this time it was in Merlin's best interest, as Gwaine had no clue what to do.

Arthur instructed Gwaine to sit Merlin up and lean his uninjured shoulder against the headboard, then lift his right arm slowly until it was horizontal. Merlin did not stir. Then Arthur had Gwaine take Merlin's dislocated arm and put Merlin's hand palm-down on his right collarbone, while simultaneously pulling his good arm toward him. Arthur gently placed his hand at the bottom of Merlin's shoulder blade, and his other on top of the shoulder. After a few terse moments of gentle pulling, there was a loud pop as the shoulder slid back into place. Merlin cried out, but thankfully didn't wake.

The king and knight worked together to lay Merlin back down, careful of his fragile arm. Gwaine retrieved a long strip of sturdy cloth to use as a sling, and strapped the arm to Merlin's body to keep it immobile. Then he sat and diligently tended to his fever.

"Can't find anything," Elyan announced upon his return. He looked around the room. "Perhaps we can just bind them thickly to provide a bit of support. Gaius should be able to do it properly when we get back."

Arthur nodded. "Thank you, Elyan, it'll have to do. Have you seen Leon or Percival."

"No, but I can go and check on them," was his reply. Arthur agreed, and Elyan left once more, glad to have something to occupy himself.

Arthur and Gwaine took one of the thicker sheets and began tearing them into long, thin strips. They began with the fingers that were already straight, wrapping them tightly and thickly to prevent Merlin from bending his fingers. That left three fingers bent at unnatural angles, and would need to be wrenched back into position.

Both men were dreading it. Merlin could wake in a panic, terror-stricken and wrought with pain. He could wake with his mind telling him he was back in the dungeon being tortured needlessly, mercilessly.

But in the end, they had to steel themselves and get it done. Waiting around did nothing to help Merlin. It was decided that Arthur would put the fingers back into place while Gwaine would be ready to assure Merlin everything was okay should he wake.

Arthur chose to begin with his left hand since only his ring finger was bent. He ignored his rolling stomach and gingerly took up Merlin's hand. Making sure a bandage was ready, Arthur slowly began to twist the finger back into position. The bone creaked ominously, and Merlin began to stir underneath him. Gwaine held him, and Arthur continued. He was glad the bone didn't crack loudly, sure it would hurt a lot more. Once the bone was relatively in the correct position, Arthur wrapped it tightly.

He sighed, trying to calm his nerves. It just wasn't right, having to do this for Merlin. Because Merlin should not have gotten hurt. Arthur always took it for granted that Merlin came out unscathed - he always did. Arthur gently took Merlin's right hand, and chose to begin with his little finger. After that he fixed the middle finger, that one didn't particularly cooperate.

Percival returned a short time later. "We've found a cart," he said, looking marginally happy. "It's long enough to lay Merlin in, and it had railing alongside so he won't fall out. The cart is sturdy enough, and two can pull it easily."

"Good," Arthur nodded, though he was still skeptical at bringing Merlin with them. But then another look at Merlin, with his pale, bruised face and the dark circles around his eyes and the slight furrow of his brow and the stuttering rise and fall of his chest, made Arthur's decision. "We leave at dawn," Arthur said, raising his chin. "Make sure the cart is as comfortable for Merlin as it can possibly be. See which direction that path into the forest goes. Perhaps there is some sort of marker for where we are."

"Yes, Sire," said Percival bending at his waist slightly before going back the way he'd come.

"Perhaps we can get him to eat a bit," Gwaine said suggestively.

"Was there anything in the kitchen," Arthur said.

"Besides bread?" was the knight's reply. "Didn't see anything."

"It'll have to do," Arthur said. "Stay with him."

The king went to the nearest kitchen and scavenged its stores. As Gwaine had said, there was only bread - a multitude of it. He filled a woven basket with as much as it could carry, and brought it back to the room. All four of his knights were there, and they partook in yet another meager meal. None of them were quite hungry.

Gwaine tried to get Merlin to eat after rousing him, but he had trouble chewing and swallowing, which worried them. Leon suggested dipping the bread into water before giving it to him. It helped a little, but in the end Merlin nodded off again without having much.

The knights took shifts with Merlin. Somehow his fever worsened during the night, despite their best attempts to keep him cool. Gwaine was reluctant to leave his side even for sleep, but Merlin woke during their argument and convinced the man to lie down for a bit. He woke several times during the night, usually from some nightmare or other, and at other times to ask for a drink of water. When it was Arthur's turn to watch him, at around midnight, Merlin spoke with him.

"Wa'er?"

Arthur immediately picked up the cup they had kept at hand and put it to Merlin's lips. He drank a few sips before turning away from it, and the king set it down again.

Merlin looked at him for a few long moments, eyes shining in the moonlight. "You kill'd 'er, you know," he said after a long moment.

Arthur regarded Merlin for a long moment, unsure what he was talking about. "Who?"

"Freya."

The king's brow furrowed. Freya? His mind tried to change the syllables to make a different name, but no matter what he came up with the name wasn't familiar. "Who's Freya?"

"She's dead."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, completely bewildered.

"S'not your faul' you kill'd 'er," Merlin said. "You didn' know."

The whole conversation was only serving to confuse Arthur more. Who the hell was Merlin talking about? Arthur tried to think of every woman he and Merlin had met. Most of them he disregarded, as she was not dead. Isolde was out. Gwen and Morgana, definitely. Mystral sounded nothing like Freya. He was just about to ask Merlin to explain who Freya was when he noticed that Merlin had fallen asleep once more. He let it go - for the moment, at least. Once Merlin was well Arthur would ask.

None of them had gotten much sleep by the time dawn came round. Leon and Elyan left to make sure the cart was ready for Merlin, taking with them several more blankets and pillows. Gwaine and Percival cocooned Merlin in his blanket, and Percival carried him out. Gwaine and Arthur carried their bags. In the matter of an hour, everyone was ready to leave the wretched castle.

The path they followed, according to a post a ways down the road, led directly to Camelot. None of the knights were sure whether to trust it or not, but it was their best shot until they could get their bearing or come across a village. Merlin was pulled in the cart, and the knights took turns in pairs pulling it. Despite their best attempts at keeping it steady, an occasional bump jostled poor Merlin and he cried out in pain, and they stopped for him.

By nightfall they had only made it a few miles, and Merlin's fever had not gotten better. This time Arthur, Elyan, and Percival tried to make sense of the herbs in Merlin's medicine bag, but failed. Gwaine haughtily took over from them, but he too knew nothing of them. When they asked Merlin, he had pointed out what did what, but just before they tried to give it to him he suddenly seemed unsure and they gave up.

The next day, when the sun reached its peak, thundering hooves approached them. Each of the knights leapt into action and surrounded Merlin, unsheathing their recovered swords. Then the on comers were upon them.

A/N: I have no idea what possessed me to write so much in such a short period of time, but here you go. Thanks for reading!