A/N: I'm not distracted by other stories, I promise! Okay, that's a lie. But I actually do have the rest of this one written and edited, finally. We're in the home stretch now!
They rode at a purposeful clip, neither taking their leisure nor wanting to rush. Not only did they have Merlin to think about, being unable to direct his own horse, but Arthur was also limited in his riding ability. This frustrated him, though he knew the return trip didn't hold nearly as much urgency. He just wanted to get home. See Gwen, assess any damage, have a proper bed to sleep in. He wanted to fully explain the situation to his knights. He owed them that much. All of them had felt the hole Merlin left. Now they had him back, but would they understand why? Would they accept the truth?
Arthur had a lot of work ahead of him. His father's legacy concerning magic ran deep in Camelot. He knew he would face fear and opposition. He would likely face bitter, even vengeful magic-users. Change would not be easy.
But you have Merlin now, he thought. Through everything, Gaius said he was determined to fight for the good in magic, and, protect Camelot even under the constant threat of death. All the times he was nearly caught, left with support from no one, not truly. If Merlin could remain good in the face of all that, surely he could show others how to become the same. Arthur glanced back at the slumped figure on the horse behind him. The collar of the cloak ruffled Merlin's black hair, gently brushing his pale cheek and ear. It couldn't be the most comfortable position to ride in, but if he was aware of any of it, it didn't show.
"How are you feeling, Sire?" Gaius spoke up for the first time since setting out from the lake. Arthur rolled his left shoulder experimentally. The entire arm was sore, but at least no longer spiking with pain.
"Well enough to be getting on. I can flex my hand and fingers now, though it's all a bit stiff."
"I suspected you might have cracked something landing on your elbow like that. Perhaps we should rest a moment. The bandages probably need adjusting for the swelling." Gaius dismounted, wobbling a little on the way down.
Arthur tightened his hold on the reins. "I'm doing fine, Gaius. I think I can see where the Questing Beast tried to ambush us; we're over halfway there. Can't we just keep going?"
"If the swelling makes the bandages too tight, it can cause permanent damage. You might not get full use of the hand back," Gaius argued. "We can spare a few minutes to stretch our legs. I for one, am not so accustomed to long patrol rides."
Arthur couldn't refute his friend and mentor's words. Not regaining full use of his hand could be disastrous for a warrior. Even as king, he was not going to sit by while others fought in his name. And his fingers were getting rather tingly, like when he slept funny on his arm and couldn't feel anything for a while. So he let Gaius help him clumsily off the horse.
"Try not to move it. I'll just adjust the wrapping…ah, the gashes seem to be well on the mend, anyway. A good cleaning and ointment once we're back to the castle, and you shouldn't even be able to see the scars. There. Don't let me catch you working that elbow, or you could make the crack worse."
Arthur was sure his guilt would bleed through onto his face, but at that moment, a faint sound took both their attentions.
Merlin shifted weakly in his saddle, his breathing strained. His expression was twisted with discomfort.
"Gaius, get him down!" ordered Arthur. He fumbled with his good hand at the closest strap holding Merlin on the horse. They eventually got him laid out against a tree, and Gaius went rooting through the medicine satchel while Arthur awkwardly massaged his friend's chest. The wheezing subsided. "Merlin, can you hear me?"
Merlin seemed to try to respond, if only he had the strength to lift anything. He couldn't even get his eyes open. But a few incoherent syllables made it past his lips.
"Give him this for starters," Gaius instructed, handing Arthur a waterskin. Then he went back to hurriedly mixing something into a vial.
"Come on Merlin, I need you to drink some…" Much of it dribbled down the servant's chin, but with his head propped by Arthur's shoulder, he got a few mouthfuls down. Arthur could feel the fever heat through the fabric of his tunic.
Gaius held his concoction up to the sunlight for inspection. His expression was appeased enough. "I worried this might happen. He's not yet strong enough to fight off any kind of illness, a danger already worsened by the cold and rain last night. With no food and little water, delirium has taken hold. We have to get his temperature down."
Arthur grabbed some clean linen from the satchel, wetted it down with water, and pressed the cloth to Merlin's face. The young man's mumbling quieted. He sagged towards Arthur, which jarred Arthur's bad arm, but he didn't care. All that mattered at the moment was taking care of Merlin.
"We can't stay here long, Gaius. He has to get to Camelot."
"Aye, he does."
An awful thought surfaced in Arthur's mind. "Gaius? What happens if he can't fight this? After everything we just went through, could he still…?"
"I don't know, Sire," admitted the physician. Gnarled hands tipped the fresh medicine into Merlin's slack mouth. He didn't flinch.
Dammit, Merlin, if you die again, I'll have Gaius bring you back just so I can kill you myself!
Gaius checked his nephew's pulse. "Well, that should combat the fever and keep him asleep for the rest of the journey. If you're ready, we should get moving."
Arthur buzzed with nervous energy as they started off once more. Everything was supposed to be okay from here on out. Merlin was alive. Morgana was no longer a threat. But this…he didn't think he could take losing Merlin all over again. Why couldn't fate be nice once in a while?
As they drew closer to Camelot, the path widened enough for all three horses to ride abreast. At least this way Arthur could keep Merlin in his line of sight. The haggard servant's hair was plastered to his pale forehead with sweat, his expression troubled. While Arthur had never truly appreciated Merlin's strength and determination until it was too late, he had always hated to see his friend so frail, so vulnerable. It was worse now, knowing what the secret warlock was actually capable of. He shouldn't be this bad off.
Just a little longer, Merlin. Hold on…
Arthur felt his chest tighten even further when they approached the lower town. A number of the thatched buildings were smoldering ruins. The few peasants who had ventured out to try to control the damage sat soot-streaked, in the shade, passing a water bucket around. They jumped to attention at the sight of the king, however, bowing despite their weariness.
"There's no need for that," Arthur assured them. He stiffly adjusted his bad arm in its sling. "Send someone up to the castle with an account of what needs done. I will dispatch men to help as soon as possible." The peasants nodded gratefully.
They proceeded up to the citadel gates, where knights were arranging and covering bodies. Gwaine, a long scrape running down his right cheek, was the first to spot them. His eyes seemed to pop out of his head when he saw the occupied third horse.
"Merlin—! What—how—you—?"
"Keep your voice down!" Arthur leaned forward and hissed. "I promise I'll explain once Gaius and I get him settled. He's still in a bad way. What's the status here—Gwaine, focus!"
"They—they didn't begin to breach the walls until around nightfall," explained the gruff knight. His gaze kept wandering across Merlin's limp form. "No matter what we did, while it might slow them down, they couldn't be stopped. But we held them at the battlements until…this unnatural windstorm came up. Could knock a man over, I tell you. Then they all sort of dissolved, like smoke. There was this awful voice on the wind, too. I suppose you had something to do with that." His grim expression was unreadable.
"How many lost?"
"Around two dozen, to my knowledge. All soldiers or volunteer defenders."
"Have Leon prepare a full report; we'll convene the Round Table in half an hour's time. Merlin needs to get to Gaius' chambers first. And Gwaine—say nothing of this to anyone. Not yet."
Gwaine appeared to wrestle with the desire to accompany his friend versus the duties to which he was still assigned. After a moment, he returned to the task in the courtyard. Fortunately for Arthur and Gaius, there were plenty of hands in the siege aftermath to take the horses. There was even a stretcher to commandeer for Merlin. He hadn't stirred since their stop on the road. Arthur made himself feel useful by insisting on carrying Gaius' bag. The court physician tried, and failed, to hide how much this trip had taxed him.
"He can go back to his room," Gaius instructed as they entered the cluttered infirmary. Thankfully, the servants to which he spoke were newly employed, and didn't know to question Merlin's presence.
"What do you want me to do?" asked Arthur.
"I need you to tend to your kingdom, Sire. You brought Merlin home. That's all I could ever ask of you here. He won't go anywhere without your notification." Gaius followed the stretcher into the little back room carrying a cloth and water.
Arthur was about to protest when the door behind him burst open again.
"Where are they? I need to see them!" Gwen was near hysterical, her hair and gown in disarray (she hadn't changed since their departure). Immediately she homed in on Arthur standing awkwardly in the middle of the chamber. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the state of him, rushed forward, and threw her arms tightly around his shoulders. "You—you're—"
"I'm alright, Gwen," he said into her ear, knowing she picked up on the pain lacing his voice. His good arm held her close, just as desperately. "Nothing that won't heal in time. The kingdom is safe—Merlin is safe."
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. "You found him?! Where is he? Can we see him?"
"I'm sure Gaius would indulge you. He already told me to see to Camelot first." Arthur guided her to the rickety door through which the servants were just now returning. Hard to believe that only days ago, he could barely handle the idea of going in just to gather his servant's belongings. That wouldn't be necessary now. He smiled at the thought.
Gaius sat on a stool next to the homely cot. Merlin, still pale, sweaty, and unmoving, was firmly tucked in with a compress over his forehead. But the steady rise and fall of his chest was unmistakable.
"My Lady," the physician greeted politely. He threw a Look to Arthur.
"I know, I know, I'm leaving," Arthur said before he could be reprimanded again.
"May I…could I stay and help awhile, Gaius? You look in sore need of a bed yourself," proffered Gwen.
"That would be much appreciated, thank you," sighed Gaius.
Arthur squeezed Gwen's shoulder. "Let me know later how both of them are coming along. I should be getting to the Round Table. Gaius." With very great reluctance, he turned around and left the chamber. There was still much to do even though their task had been achieved. The sound of Gaius relating instructions to Gwen followed him out.