A/N: Sorry for the delay on this, I had family visiting and things were a bit busy.
I've also been having a rough couple of weeks at work and am feeling a bit down- please complain if this has negatively impacted the quality of my writing (alternatively, if it has somehow helped- praise me).
Additional apologies that it is a shorty- the next should be up tomorrow.
Also, I'm going to start up the first companion piece this week and try to post it alongside or soon after the main chapters – don't worry, I won't let it delay the writing of Bound Together. It'll just be something to work on when I'm stuck or otherwise don't feel like following the main story for a while.
Historical note: in past times brooches were called 'fibulae' (singular, fibula) and were typically used as a clothing fastener. They both functioned as and resembled giant safety pins, though they were often highly decorative items as well. Thus ends today's lesson.
(Now please imagine word art reading 'the more you know' zooming out of nowhere- I did)
"Emrys"
A soft male voice whispered through his mind as his awareness floated above the sea of pain.
"Emrys"
He attempted to focus on the increasingly insistent presence- which is rather difficult when one is desperately avoiding consciousness.
"?"
He sent out a wordless question, not quite up to forming sentences.
"Emrys, I have news of great import. An ancient and powerful relic has been stolen- the Fibula of Nytnes."
The mystery voice took the lack of answer as lack of recognition (and rightly so).
"The Fibula of Nytnes is a powerful magical item, my small clan has guarded it for many generations and even we do not know many of its secrets. It has the ability to recast any spell using only a person or object that was present during the initial casting, completely ignoring any need for special conditions such as time, place, or reagents. Perhaps even more importantly, it absorbs the magical essence of its owner when they die."
A pause, presumably to let the implications sink in rather than mere dramatic effect.
"The Fibula has served as a badge of office for many court sorcerers and other powerful magic-workers throughout the ages. It holds untold energy that could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands."
Frankly, this was all a bit much for Merlin in his current state and he found it a bit difficult to be properly impressed.
"There is no time so I will make this short. The Fibula will be used as part of the prize for this year's Key and Sword Tournament. I understand that you are already on your way there, though not under the best circumstances. I am sorry to ask this of you, Emrys, especially when I cannot help; but the Fibula must be retrieved. You need to win the tournament and claim the prize yourself."
Merlin wanted to object to that, but was too distracted by a sudden wave of pain.
"Now, wake Emrys! You must WAKE!"
Arthur stared at the blood seeping through the already crimson cloth that had been a neckerchief in a previous life.
Pull yourself together, Arthur. You've dealt with injured men before.
Well, usually he delegated their care, and this was Merlin, but he could do this, right?
Should I pull the bolt out?
The prince shook his head.
There was no way he was doing that- nothing good could come of it when he had no idea what to do afterward.
His thoughts were circling like a litter of kittens chasing each other's tails when a pained groan brought them to a screeching halt.
"Merlin?"
The response was a string of muttered imprecations about druids, mind-speech, and pointlessly powerful relics.
He was about to interrupt when Merlin's eyes shot wide open.
"Arthur?" The voice had an edge of panic to it.
"I'm here."
"Arthur, I can't move."
