Chapter 10

As the days progressed to weeks (far longer than Arthur had allotted Merlin, really), Merlin grew stronger, and his wounds began to heal. The infections had passed, thanks to Gaius' skill, and Merlin was outwardly happy with his nearly constant stream of visitors. At first Gaius had kept visits to a minimum, but then gave in to his exasperation with Merlin's bored, lonesome sighs.

Arthur, Gwen, and the knights were the more vigilant visitors, seeing him as often as they could spare. Gwaine and Hunith were nearly always there when Arthur came knocking on Merlin's door, as he had been moved there some days previously once Gaius had allowed it. Merlin had insisted on walking to his room himself, and only needed a little support from his mother. He'd flushed under Hunith's and Gwen's praise, and Arthur wasted no time in mocking that praise, warranting a venomous look from both his wife and Merlin himself.

Though Merlin's back was still tender, he could sit up on his own, and several more of his fingers had healed, giving him more flexibility with his hands. His jaw would take longer to heal, Gaius had said, and as such Merlin was kept on a liquid diet of broth. Occasionally, as a secret treat when Gaius left for his rounds, Hunith made a fruit paste for Merlin, which he cherished. Merlin also still found it difficult to speak, and only Hunith, Gaius, and Arthur seemed to catch all that he mumbled, especially when he was tired. His slurring rivaled that of a drunk Gwaine, and he constantly left out syllables or words in favor of speaking fragmentally.

Even so, after all Merlin's progress, Arthur was shocked the morning that the curtains were flung open with a cheery, "Rise 'n' shine!" From the position he was lying in, Arthur first caught Gwen's startled face morph into a pleased smile. Then he rolled over and saw Merlin beaming at them from the window.

"Merlin, should you really be up?" Gwen asked, though her smile did not fade. She sat up and stretched, shooting a meaningful look to Arthur, who only drew the covers up over his face to block out the light. He gasped at the chill as Merlin yanked them free.

"Merlin!" he uttered irritably, though he was, in actuality, ecstatic that Merlin had shown up.

"Don' worry," Merlin looked at Gwen as he said it, but was addressing both her and his master. "Gaius said it's a' right t' do light work."

Gwen only looked happier, and Arthur felt the same, though he tried to hide it. "Very well, then," he said. "Since you're here, you can go about cleaning. I've been saving the worst of it for you."

Merlin grimaced good-naturedly. "Thank you, Sire."

"Merlin, have you eaten?" Gwen asked, moving to sit at the table. She was still in her nightclothes, but since it was only Merlin and he wouldn't care, she was unabashed. Arthur kicked himself mentally. He should have asked that.

"Later," Merlin replied with a half shrug.

Arthur cast his gaze toward the breakfast Merlin had laid out on the table. He had set for both him and Gwen, obviously having learned from Gwen that they had begun to share a bed. There were fruits, meats, breads, and cheeses piled up on the plates - none of which Merlin could easily eat. Arthur felt a bit bad that he would be eating while Merlin couldn't, and he knew that Gwen would feel the same.

But Merlin seemed to notice their apprehension and grinned cheekily. Before he could make fun of Arthur, he rolled out of bed and sat pointedly at the table, digging in with gusto. With a particularly large bite from an apple, Arthur gazed coolly at Merlin, who laughed aloud. Gwen gave in as well, smiling sympathetically at the manservant before sitting and eating as well, though she was a bit more refined.

Merlin cast his gaze about for something to do. Despite what Arthur had said, there really wasn't much of a mess. Whether that was Arthur's, Gwen's, or another servant's doing he didn't know, but he felt a bit frustrated that it wasn't he that had done the job. He spotted Arthur's boots at the foot of the bed. They, by Merlin's standard, were almost perfect, but by Arthur's they warranted a good polish.

So Merlin sat by the bed after retrieving the polishing cloth from a spare cupboard, and picked up the first boot. He was oblivious to Arthur and Gwen's occasional glance to see how he was faring, so concentrated he was. Four of Merlin's fingers were still splinted, three on his left hand and his little finger on his right. Though the others were healed, they lacked the flexibility they once had and ached sometimes. When they began to hurt Merlin stopped to give them a break under the pretense of scrutinizing the job he was doing.

After half an hour, there was a soft but firm knock on the door. Merlin looked up, wondering whether someone was coming to visit one of the royals, but both of them looked equally surprised. "Enter," Arthur called.

"Uh-oh," Merlin sang under his breath, drawing both Arthur's and Gwen's attention.

"Sire," said Gaius, who stood at the door after opening it. He removed his hand from the knob and clasped his hands in front of his, looking very stern. For a moment, Arthur and Gwen looked concerned, but when Gaius' hard eyes shifted to Merlin, they suddenly understood.

"Merlin!" they exclaimed in unison.

Said manservant had been cringing under the weight of Gaius' Eyebrow, but when his friends looked at him sternly as well, he grimaced and subconsciously began to massage his throbbing fingers. That was the last straw for Arthur.

"Get up," he said crossly, standing himself. "You're going back to Gaius' immediately."

"But 'm fine!" Merlin protested, unmoving.

"Merlin," Arthur said, exasperated. "I'm not going to have you following me if you're going to faint like a girl's petticoat and make me carry you."

Merlin gave him a heated glare, then looked to Gaius and got no sympathy. As a last resort, he gave Gwen a pleading look. It was to no avail. "I know you're restless, Merlin," Gwen said, "but that doesn't mean you can sneak out and do whatever you like. You must take care of yourself."

Gaius' posture and expression told Merlin very clearly that he knew Merlin had not snuck out; he had placed a light sleeping spell over his mentor so that he couldn't stop his leaving. Hunith had left a few days previously, to return for the harvest. Merlin had wanted to go help, but was not well enough for the journey. She promised to come back once it was over, for a visit. Merlin grimaced again, now realizing that his actions would have consequences, which he almost always seemed to forget.

Finally admitting defeat, Merlin pushed himself to his feet, and only swayed once before correcting his balance. He kept his eyes firmly on the floor, head bowed to hide how ashamed he felt. Arthur only felt a bit bad for sending him away with Gaius. In any case, Merlin's health came before his want of Merlin's presence, and he was sure Gwen felt the same way.

Once Merlin had trudged to the door, Gaius gave a stiff bow to Arthur and Gwen, then turned on his heel and led Merlin out. The manservant only paused to close the door, a forlorn expression dominating his features. Arthur inwardly promised that he would visit him later, and stay for longer than he had in previous visits. The king couldn't imagine having to be confined to his room for weeks with still more to come, and his chamber was far more spacious than Merlin's.

Arthur exhaled heavily and dragged a hand down his face. "That idiot," he muttered.

"He's bored," Gwen said endearingly.

The king gave a noncommittal grunt, rubbing his eyes. He needed to start his day, but now that he had a headache coming on all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Gwen's hand on his shoulder meant that she had no intention of allowing that, for if he did then she would be left to deal with the council meeting that day. So Arthur heaved another sigh and disappeared behind the changing screen, where clothes had been lain out for him the night before.

It was going to be a long day.

But Arthur was a man of his word, and even if that word had been given to himself and no one knew that he had given it at all, Arthur would come through. Despite his exhaustion from the hours-long council meeting that dealt and argued with the most pointless, trivial things the king had ever heard of, and the knight training, and a short dealing with a dispute amongst the ladies of the court, Arthur went to see Merlin.

The weight of his burdens seemed to lift slightly when Merlin smiled brightly at his appearance. Gaius had turned when the door opened, but seeing it was Arthur stood from his place at the table. Merlin remained sitting, though whether it was because he was tired, or aching, or simply comfortable where he was Arthur didn't know - or particularly mind.

"May I help you, Sire?" Gaius asked.

Arthur froze. He'd forgotten to come up with an excuse for his visit. He couldn't very well say he had come to see Merlin, that was unthinkable. He'd never hear the end of it! So he blurted the first thing that came to his head: "Headache."

Gaius' Eyebrow tilted precariously higher. "I see," he said, turning to the potions shelf. "I believe I have a tonic already prepared."

Arthur kicked himself. Now he would have to accept the vial and leave without spending time with Merlin. A glance at Merlin told Arthur that Merlin was very well aware of his predicament. He tried to ignore the heat rising in his face and neck.

Gaius then turned away from the shelf, empty-handed. The corners of his mouth twitched as though he were holding back a smile. "I'm afraid I don't have it, Sire," he said at last, and the amusement in it was hardly concealed. "I'll have to go to the market and fetch a bit of lavender, in any case. If you care to wait, I won't be long." The old man fetched his medicine bag from its hook on the wall and promptly left, leaving master and servant alone.

Once the door had closed, Merlin laughed.

Arthur shot a well-intentioned glare at him. With a dramatic sigh, Arthur put a hand on his head and slumped down in Gaius' seat at the table. "Despite the fact that you're not around to talk my ears off, I still find myself getting awful headaches."

"Tha's jus' you tryin' t' think."

Arthur looked up through his lashes to see Merlin grinning cheekily. He scoffed and sat up again, needlessly smoothing the front of his shirt before leaning his elbows on the table. "How on earth did you sneak past Gaius? Even I couldn't do that."

"Tired."

The king blinked. "Tired because of you."

Merlin flashed another grin, partly due to his pride that Arthur had understood what he'd meant. If he'd said that to Gwen or the knights, they'd have immediately assumed Merlin was saying that he himself was tired, and would have sent him to bed. Then he lowered his head and continued working on what he was doing.

Arthur watched him with a curious expression. He'd seen Gaius plenty of times making tonics, but never Merlin. He didn't know whether it was only because his fingers didn't work properly at the moment or that it was simply his way of doing it, but Merlin held two phials in one hand, between his little and ring finger and between his first and middle fingers. With his other hand he was measuring out pinches of various ground herbs and dropping them in the tiny glass bottles.

"Making poison, are you?" Arthur asked lightly.

"For you."

"Ah, well thank you," the king joked. "I haven't been sick in a long while. Now seems like a good time for it."

Merlin laughed, eyes twinkling. Arthur marveled at the fact that Merlin even could laugh, after all that he'd gone through. He envied Merlin, who was able to be so free with his emotions. Perhaps if he'd been raised differently, Arthur could be like that, too. The king quickly shook the thought away.

"Sleepin' draught," Merlin said after a moment. "Gaius used 'em all."

It passed unspoken between them that the person Gaius' had spent his sleeping drafts on was Merlin. Arthur wondered if he was having nightmares, and searched his face for any sign of them. He didn't look any worse than usual. Aside from the slight swelling in his jaw (a reminder that it was fractured), a small scar just below his lower lip (a miniscule testament to his ordeal), and slight bags under his eyes, he looked normal. Arthur didn't want to see his body again, regardless of whether it was fully healed or not. He would always bear the scars, and that just wasn't fair to Merlin.

The two fell into another silence, content to just sit with one another. Normally Merlin would be filling the quiet with the rambling that Arthur never really listened to (but now was missing), but since talking for extended periods made his jaw ache he tended to keep it to a minimum. So Arthur kept his questions to a minimum as well, and played it off as relishing the fact that he could hear himself think without a constant backdrop of chatter.

"Knigh's?" Merlin asked suddenly, looking up at Arthur.

"Sirs Leon, Elyan, and Percival were sent out on a patrol," Arthur answered breezily. "Gwaine was last seen being dragged back to his chambers in the wee hours of the morning, having possibly drunk the tavern out of business and eaten all the pickled eggs in the kingdom."

A swift grin dominated Merlin's face again. Each time Merlin smiled Arthur felt himself a bit more at ease. Merlin's happiness somehow made him happy, much in the way Gwen's did, even if he didn't understand why presenting her with something so trivial as flowers once in a while warranted such a reaction. But girls were girls, and Merlin was a man like he (though he'd never let Merlin know he acknowledged that); so Arthur knew exactly how to make him laugh.

Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin continued chuckling, no doubt at the image of Gwaine. His eyes landed on the hearth. It was getting on in the autumn, slowly creeping toward winter, so really there should have been more wood stocked beside it. There were ashes in the grate, and a pot hanging over it that spoke of the last meal Gaius had prepared, probably of stew so that Merlin could have the broth. But what struck Arthur was what was missing: the pokers that had always been there.

His lips were moving before his mind could catch up and stop himself. "Where are the fire pokers?"

Merlin stiffened instantly, head snapping up to look at Arthur and swiveling to look at the hearth. Arthur was cursing himself, viciously kicking himself mentally at Merlin's reaction. He had remembered too late the burns that littered his body, and that of course he might have some sort of apprehension toward the tools. But now Arthur had no idea how to rectify his mistake.

Ever so slowly, Merlin turned back toward the king, haunted eyes lingering slightly at the place where the pokers usually were. Something in Arthur's face must have shown because Merlin's face immediately softened in understanding. "Dunno," he supplied, forcing a smile and returning to his tedious task of measuring out herbs.

Arthur nodded agreeably, feeling horribly guilty. The last thing he'd wanted to do was remind Merlin of what he'd endured.

After a few minutes of terse silence, Merlin suddenly extended his hand to Arthur, who blinked in surprise. He took the vials from Arthur's hand, but Merlin took one back and handed Arthur a stopper, giving him a meaningful look. The king understood and topped the vial, then did the same with the other one. Merlin smiled his thanks and set the vials aside. It was only then that Arthur saw how many he had done. There were at least twenty, and if those took as long the ones Merlin had just finished, he must have been working for several hours. Arthur wondered if it was Merlin's punishment for escaping that morning or to keep him busy - probably both.

Gaius announced his return by opening the door, and Arthur stood. "Sorry, Gaius," Arthur feigned, "but my headache's disappeared. I won't be needing the tonic after all."

"Just as well, Sire," Gaius replied, hanging his bag. "The market was fresh out of lavender." The small smile on his lips was proof that he hadn't really gone to the market at all.

Just as Arthur opened his mouth with something witty on the tip of his tongue, Gaius' concerned look warranted him to turn and look at the object of his attention. Or rather, the someone.

"Merlin?" Gaius said, striding forward.

Merlin was immobile, staring wide-eyed at the shelves on the other side of the room. When Gaius and Arthur looked, they saw nothing that would cause such a terrifying reaction. The king suddenly wondered if there were some sort of trigger, like the fire pokers, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. There were bottles upon bottles of herbs and tonics and poultices. Had he been poisoned?

"What is wrong, Merlin?" Gaius asked firmly, placing his gnarled hand on the manservant's shoulder.

Still there was no reaction. But after a moment, Arthur began to notice that his unbound fingers were clutched so tightly at the hem of his shirt that his knuckles were white; that his face was growing paler by the minute; that he was shaking like a leaf.

"Merlin," Arthur said, and the man jolted as though he'd been struck.

But still his fearful eyes did not waver. "She's..." he whispered, hardly audible.

"She?" Arthur said, sharing a startled glance with Gaius. They cast another glance to the shelves, just to make sure there was no one standing there that they had missed. "She who?"

"She's...here," Merlin said. Now he was starting to move, though his eyes never strayed from that spot. Before either of the men could stop him, Merlin had gotten up from his seat and scrambled backwards, hitting his back against the wall. He winced, but otherwise did not acknowledge it.

"Who's here, Merlin?" Arthur asked quickly, shooting yet another fervent glance. He knew no one was there, that it was just Merlin seeing whoever it was, but he wanted to see her, too. He didn't want Merlin to be the only one seeing her. That would mean Merlin was hallucinating, and hallucinations indicated illness. Merlin couldn't be ill, he had only just gotten better!

The king knew what name was going to come out of his mouth before Merlin said it. He hoped that it wouldn't be that name, but he saw the first syllable form on his quivering lips, and the unbridled fear on his face. He knew it was coming, but he was unprepared for it.

"M'stral," Merlin uttered, hands flying up from his shirt to grasp at his hair. His legs buckled beneath him, and before Arthur and Gaius, who had kept a few steps' worth of distance between them and him, could reach him, he slid to the floor in a shuddering heap.

Arthur went to his aid, ignoring the fact that he felt as though he had just been punched in the gut, driving all the air from his lungs. Gaius turned to grab one of the phials Merlin had worked so hard to fill, unstopping it and kneeling beside Merlin. From the grim line Gaius' lips were in, Arthur knew, with a sinking feeling, that this was not the first episode Merlin had had.

The king wanted to cry, and he nearly did when Merlin began to mutter something that after a few seconds became clear: "Nononononononononononono," he was moaning lowly. Then he took a wheezing breath and began the plea again.

Gaius gently put his free hand on Merlin's cheek turning his head. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaming from them. The old physician promptly tipped the contents of the vial into Merlin's parted lips, and the boy swallowed with another tremble. The taste of it seemed to bring him back slightly, and he apparently recognized Gaius before he shut his eyes again.

"You're all right, my boy," Gaius said, setting the bottle aside. When Gaius gently pulled Merlin's arm to help him sit up, the young man flung himself at Gaius and buried his face into the elderly man's breast, shoulders heaving. Gaius wrapped his arms around his ward, looking miserable himself. Arthur suddenly felt as though he were imposing on a private moment, and turned to look at the shelf on the other side of the room.

Still he saw nothing that could be a trigger.

"Sire," said a soft voice.

Arthur reluctantly turned around, and was only slightly relieved to see Merlin sleeping. Though there were still tears on his face, he was no longer crying, and his brow was smooth with peace.

"Perhaps you could help me move him," Gaius suggested tiredly.

Arthur nodded numbly, and reached down to help. He hesitated only slightly, unsure of where to grab his manservant. He had been injured quite terribly and he didn't want to cause him any unnecessary pain. As though reading his thoughts, Gaius said that Merlin was in such a deep sleep that he wouldn't feel anything, let alone be aware of being moved.

So the king looped his forearms around Merlin's chest, underneath his armpits, and hoisted him up. True to Gaius' word, Merlin didn't stir. He was dead weight. And Arthur knew right then that he was going to make Merlin eat until he burst when his jaw was well, because his dead weight was hardly any weight at all.

"His bed, if you will, Sire," Gaius said when Arthur looked to him for guidance.

With a nod, Merlin was, as gently as possible, half dragged, half carried up the steps to his own bed. When deposited, his head lolled to one side, and Arthur winced, hoping his neck hadn't been hurt. Gaius said nothing of it, only corrected his ward's head on the pillow and draped his arms over his midsection. Arthur stood back, feeling quite helpless.

"How many times, Gaius?" he asked softly.

"Has he seen the witch?" Gaius asked, though Arthur knew he was stalling for time rather than ascertaining what the king was asking. Still, he nodded an affirmative.

"Not as often as he has been," Gaius said carefully. "But in this week alone, three times."

Arthur's eyes closed to hide his dismay. Merlin was ill, and it was a sickness of the worst kind: it was in his head. The king swallowed convulsively. "Will he...?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Sire," Gaius said sadly. "All we can do is give it time."

"But she's dead!" Arthur exclaimed. "I've told him that."

"He knows, Sire," Gaius replied. "But the fear of her is imprinted in his memory, in every fiber of his being. It might diminish with time, as it already has, but until then all we can do is reassure him and protect him."

The king nodded slowly as Gaius spoke. "Take care of him, Gaius," Arthur said. "I've some things I must attend to."

"Of course, Sire," Gaius said.

With that, Arthur swept from the room. He couldn't get the image of Merlin cowering on the floor of Gaius' chambers, in the castle of Camelot, where he was ultimately safe from an obviously dead sorcerer, out of his head. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

And Arthur hated it.

A/N: Yay, two updates in one day! I guess you thought the worst of it was over, didn't you? Well, sorry, Merlin didn't come out unscathed. Would you have? I hope I'm not confusing anyone with the time skip. Basically, it's been about three weeks since their rescue, if you could call it that.

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it. :)