A/N: It was so tempting to call the thing 'the brooch of macguffin' or somesuch. Much later it becomes more of a Deus ex Machina sort of deal though. Thus we have 'the brooch of convenience' (sort of... more the like 'the brooch of benefit', but eh).
Many thanks to those who reviewed and/or gave encouragement :)
In your honor I present: a chapter that isn't entirely mortifying in length.
**Yes, I did post this chapter and then take it down for revision. Sorry about any confusion/inconvenience.
Sometimes all the things in my head don't make it out onto the virtual paper.
Hopefully this clears things up a bit and isn't too ungainly since I had to shoehorn things in after the fact.
Merlin looked up, wide-eyed and slightly panicked.
"Arthur, I can't move."
He had just resolved to remain calm and in control of the situation when the idiot just had to go and ruin it.
Arthur stared at his servant.
Okay, you can handle this. What am I supposed to do in this situation?
His thoughts floundered for a moment longer before he settled on trying to diffuse the situation with humor.
"And yet somehow your mouth is as free as ever."
He tried to grin, but his words sounded strained even to his own ears.
Merlin gave him a disapproving look but seemed to decide ignoring the remark was the best course.
"Okay, let's leave that aside for now. I need you to tell me how my wound is doing- is it still bleeding? Does it look infected?"
The prince gingerly removed the bloody neckerchief and widened the hole in the injured man's shirt.
The sight made him wince.
Thick, dark red blood was slowly bubbling out of the wound along with whitish pus.
"I'll take that as a yes to both."
His voice, almost normal when he first woke up was now weak and barely audible.
Arthur frowned as the warlock's eyes closed.
"You need to stay awake."
Receiving only a low hum in response, the royal reached forward and patted his friend lightly on the cheek.
"Come on Merlin, after having survived a dragon and an immortal army it would be rather embarrassing to die like this."
He had much less trouble remaining detached when it was a knight potentially dying in his arms- why did Merlin always have to make things difficult?
He shook his head as if that would fling the worry away.
Panicking would help no one. Merlin needed him to be strong.
"I'm- ow! I'm awake, the sun's just aggravating my headache. I don't know why people always feel the need to yell when they're already inside my head."
The last bit was mumbled and Arthur hardly understood anyway so he returned to his previous focus.
"Can you heal yourself? Jazar" he spit the man's name out like a curse "said you'd be able to do it if you had enough magic left."
Merlin let out a short laugh that was completely devoid of mirth.
"Shows what he knows- I'm rubbish at healing."
"But you healed me earlier..."
The warlock avoided his gaze.
"You could say burns hold a... special interest for me."
Arthur blinked at him. Oh. Oh.
Now he was the one looking away.
"Ah." He said, clearing his throat.
The silence only lasted a short time before Merlin, as usual, felt the need to break it.
"I can probably stop the bleeding and take care of the infection. Give me a moment."
His lids slipped closed again as he began muttering to himself, accompanied by the occasional golden light shining through.
He could feel a bit more strength filling his body, though movement still seemed to be beyond him.
"That's better." He sighed at the slight relief from the pain.
His head now cleared of the cobwebs, an earlier turn of phrase caught him as odd.
"Wait" blue eyes swiveled to face the prince, now quizzical "what did you mean?"
He asked, unaware that he was echoing Arthur's initial reaction to Jazar's proclamation.
"What did I mean about what?"
"When you said 'if I have enough magic left'."
"Right." The blond briefly described to him the way the collar was cutting off the flow of magic to and from his body, also sharing Jazar's description of how sorcerers collected and stored magic.
Merlin listened with fascination.
"Huh. Well that's interesting."
Arthur looked at him askance.
"You didn't know that? Merlin, please tell me you aren't as poor a sorcerer as you are a servant."
The young man snorted.
"First, I am an excellent servant- certainly the best for you."
Arthur rolled his eyes but silently agreed with that assessment.
"Second, I am not a sorcerer."
The prince stared at him.
"Did you injure your head as well?"
"You misunderstand. I am not a sorcerer, I'm a warlock."
"And this means what exactly?"
Was Merlin trying to make him feel foolish?
"I was born with magic, Arthur. I don't just have magic, I am magic."
Merlin could see his master wasn't quite getting the point so he went with a different tactic.
"Let me put it this way: whereas a sorcerer is like a bucket catching water from a very slow well, a warlock is more like a spring. Water flows below the surface, practically limitless, and bubbles up above ground to be used. No matter how much magic I spend, I have never run out and I'm not sure that I can- I certainly don't want to find out what would happen if I ever did."
Arthur didn't know what to think of this new knowledge, but he did know that he was getting tired of all these water metaphors.
"Well, if your magic supply isn't a concern shouldn't you at least try to heal yourself? Whatever you did earlier seems to have helped, but you still have an arrow sticking out of you." He asked, shrugging off his impending sense of renewed awe.
"Ah. Yes. Truth is, I don't actually know any spells designed for self-healing."
The prince pinched the bridge of his nose. Only Merlin.
The awe was quickly overtaken by exasperation.
"Still, you should try."
"Right. First I'll need you to push the bolt through."
"What? Merlin, I could be poking holes in your organs!"
"Oh it's too late for that. I think he hit my liver, maybe a kidney. Anatomy never was my strong suit- despite Gaius' best efforts."
His light tone belied the seriousness of his statements.
"Anyway, it's almost completely through now so it's better to just go all the way. I rather doubt they were considerate enough to use hunting bolts rather than barbed ones."
"Fine. But you better not faint again like a girl."
It almost hurt to make that joke when he was genuinely worried.
What would he do if he actually did pass out again?
Merlin gave him a wan smile. "No promises."
Arthur nodded. "Here, bite down on this. As much as I'd appreciate a bit more silence I don't want it to be because you've bitten your own tongue off."
He reached forward and placed a section of rope between his servant's teeth.
Merlin glared balefully at the taste and feel of the former bindings and Arthur shrugged in response.
"It's all I have."
The pale man was already partially on his side due to his still-bound arms, but Arthur shifted him further to make sure the arrow had enough clearance to come out, eliciting a groan from the manservant.
"Ready?"
Merlin grunted, screwing his eyes shut and grimacing in anticipation.
Wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible, Arthur pushed on the bolt with as much force as he dared.
He felt a slight resistance before the head burst forth with a sickening wet 'pop'.
Merlin had been screaming, but subsided to a whimper as the bolt appeared out his opposite side.
It was too short to break off the head and pull back out so he drew the entire shaft through carefully as the warlock panted desperately.
The cruelly barbed head was incredibly sharp and Arthur used it to make short work of Merlin's bindings, the now-free limbs sagged slightly but otherwise remained motionless.
Blood poured freely from the new wound and the old, washing away the pus and some shirt fibers that had entered with the projectile.
"Put- put my hands over the first hole" Merlin forced out between pained gasps, having spit out the rope.
Arthur grasped his friend's hand only to hear him shout once more.
Of course- how had they forgotten the burns?
The bloody streaks were still visible on the hated collar from where Merlin had clawed at it with his damaged digits.
"Right. Hands first then."
Arthur had had to lean forward to hear him and so got a close view as Merlin's eyes filled with gold.
"Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare" he whispered, the burns lessening until unbroken skin remained- though it was still an angry red.
The prince's brow furrowed at the less-than-perfect result.
"It's amazing it worked at all. Now, my hands please."
Arthur sighed and reached forward again, taking the pale hands and gently placing them over the hole in the man's chest.
He found that the limbs were entirely limp and was obliged to hold them in place as Merlin took a deep breath before intoning "Ic hæle þina þrowunga".
The blond waited a moment before announcing "nothing happened."
A slight chuckle.
"Well, that's the more normal result. Here we go again. Ic hæle þina þrowunga."
Arthur watched as the wound scabbed over, then gasped when he noticed gold sparks dancing along his bloodied hands.
"What? Is it working?" Merlin asked, unable to see what was going on.
"Look" Arthur said, holding his glowing hand in front of the warlock's face.
"Well that's new."
The sparks danced around the prince's left hand still holding Merlin's hands in place, then dissipated. The right hand, meanwhile, was a veritable colony of sparks that gathered around the knuckles Arthur had injured when punching Jazar earlier.
He felt a tingling warmth settle into his hand which then washed over his entire body, leaving him feeling refreshed.
"Merlin, you just healed me."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"But that's supposed to be impossible- the collar, remember?"
The warlock considered this for a moment.
"I think-" he hesitated, then continued with renewed strength in his voice "I think it's because of my blood."
Arthur looked at him oddly.
"No, you see, you had your hands on my wound where blood was coming out of my body. My blood seems to have formed a- a bridge or something that allowed the magic to pass from me to you."
This was all over Arthur's head.
"As much as it pains me to admit, I will have to trust to your greater knowledge in this area Merlin."
"Well it's about time you acknowledge that."
His gaze gained a faraway quality of a sudden.
"What is it?" The prince asked.
"Just the beginnings of an idea. Remember how I told you I am magic? Perhaps I can take advantage of that in this circumstance."
"I sincerely hope you're not suggesting that you bleed all over our enemies. That's a bit counterproductive, don't you think?"
"Of course not, dollop head."
Merlin's thoughts were clearly still off in the distance, but the inclusion of one of his ridiculous insults set Arthur's heart at ease a bit.
"How do you feel?" He let some of the concern show in his voice.
"The prat's worried? I must be dying!" Merlin exclaimed in mock horror.
Arthur put on his princely air "Piffle, the hole in your back is practically gone now- not even worth mentioning."
"And the front?"
"It scabbed over, probably best to stay still so you don't reopen it."
Merlin gave him a look rife with meaning.
"Right. That."
The royal heaved a put-upon sigh.
"Well I suppose we'll have to fix that somehow. After all, I'm expecting you to start pulling your own weight and get us out of here as soon as possible."
At that Merlin looked apologetic.
"About that... well... I can't leave."
