Merlin hadn't just transformed the the world wasn't just a grim, gray pit of depression for just one Pendragon. He had managed to plummet Morganna's cold black heart into the depths of despair and Lord Aggravaine feared that she'd never recover. The boy sure had talent if he could affect her – and he had so deeply that there was nothing that Aggravaine could say or do to stir her from her self pity.
He had tried to influence Arthur by pointing out Merlin's treachery for hiding his magic, but that had gotten him thrown into the dungeon for a week.
Since then, he could think of nothing he could do to please his mistress. Merlin wasn't around to take revenge on.
Magic was allowed now. He couldn't even recruit sorcerers to plot with or send to Morganna to support her.
Arthur was too well guarded for him to attack and he couldn't risk attacking him anyway. The boy was too good of a fighter. Only Morganna could handle the boy.
Winter was almost here and despite the issues with the magic storm, the kingdom was well supplied.
He couldn't sabotage anything.
Frequent trips to Morganna's hiding spot to check on her and force her to eat was all he could do to help her. She was barely eating. It was as if her reason for living had abandoned her. Her beauty had not faded, if anything, she was more beautiful than ever before. Her features were more fine and delicate than ever before. Although the will to live seemed to have forsaken her, she had never seemed more alive. There was a flush to cheeks, that fanned his affection for her. He knew it was because she was running a fever. He knew that a fever was dangerous, but it was no more deadly than to love her.
If she died, he would soon follow. He vowed that to the gods with all of his heart.
He had to do something to please her. He had to do something to shake her from her depression. He had to give her some hope. He had to reinstate her purpose.
Aggravaine sat in his chambers and sulked. No servant had even bothered coming to light the fire in his hearth any more. He refused to do it himself lately and he didn't bother mentioning it to his nephew. Arthur stopped listening to him after he tried to discredit thee precious Merlin. He was planning on going to see Morganna today and it wasn't worth the effort to light the stupid fire, even if it the action did waist a bit of the castle's resources.
The dark blue blanket on his bed called to him. It seemed to beckon to him. It promised to ward off the chill of the room. It promised rest. His eyes lingered on it as he imagined all the virtues of his bed, but his heart yearned more for his mistress. Morganna needed him more than he needed warmth. He leaned back in the stiff-backed wooden chair and raised a goblet of stale wine to his lips as he looked out into the annoyingly busy courtyard.
Arthur's subjects – those inspired and devoted – ready to die for him rather than bow to the lovely Morganna... oh...
Aggravaine's eyes drank in a single form that he knew by description. Geoffrey had a gift for turning words into paintings. Thanks to that man, Aggravaine did not need any confirmation. He knew at an instant what figure it was that gracefully carried a small basket across the courtyard and of all the people in Camelot – this one was probably the most important. She was the most vulnerable and yet most strategic target. If he struck her down, he could break the warlock who broke his mistress.
As someone with much experience either being drunk or walking home a drunk man, Gwaine hitched one of Merlin's arm's around his shoulders and held his arm tight in his hand while wrapping an arm around his waste. And while this was an expert way of walking with a drunk man, but it was a difficult way to walking a sick man. Merlin was having difficulty moving his feet and his head bobbed against Gwaine's shoulder between moments of consciousness. Just like a drunk man, Merlin would have to have a moment here and there to empty his stomach even though there was little in it, which concerned the knight. However as a sick man, Merlin was shuddering in a way that frightened Gwaine. His skin was hot, but he would then go cold. He had asked why Gwaine wasn't letting him sleep, but hadn't been able to stay awake long enough to hear the answer.
This only strengthened Gwaine's determination to find this Avalon place and cure his friend. He felt a little guilty for dragging Merlin's stumbling feet and hauling the boy like a life-sized doll. The only alternative was to carry Merlin like a maiden and risk bashing his head or feet into branches or trees – or be caught unawares by bandits. Glinde admitted that she was forbidden to strike at nonmagic humans and if his arms were full of Merlin then he would have to drop or jolt him – in order to defend their cheerful traveling group.
On the topic of cheerful, Gwen was crying – again. Apparently she could not stay at the cave as Gwaine suggested. Merlin must have spelled her to stay with him. She couldn't seem to stray more than 50 feet from him without being compelled to return to him. She complained loudly and cried bitterly. She resented this treatment and had begun to voice her suspicions to Gwaine that she thought he was also enchanted. He had tried talking to her, but he was starting to lose patience with her. She was starting to sound like Uther and he just did not feel like fighting with the paranoid.
The sidhe lady was leading the way and she wasn't making it easy. She flew over rocks and not around them. Gwaine wasn't willing to harm his friend and so he skirted around obstacles as quickly as he could, but it wasn't satisfactory enough. The sidhe lady tutted at his efforts if she had to pause to wait for any length of time. Of course any opportunity she got to tut was combined with spectacular display of menace or disapproval directed at Gwen and that, of course, inspired more tears and whinging.
"Gwen! Stop reacting to her, it's what she wants! You're unhappy. She doesn't like you because you don't like Merlin because he has magic. She's mad at you so she's teasing you. You're smarter than this. Stop reaching for the bait!" growled Gwaine, frustrated. Merlin had started whimpering like an injured puppy and his concern for Merlin had worn his nerves down. He was beginning to worry that his friend would not make it to Avalon.
She whirled on him in a flurry of brocade and scowl. Her eyes red and her little hands were clenched in rage, "You say that, but you're still obeying her! You don't seem to mind that I'm enchanted. I tried to walk away and I cannot! How do you know you're not enchanted?! I keep telling you that you're enchanted and you don't react. You ignore me. You just keep going and now you're taking her side!"
Faint wheezing followed her tirade. Merlin had raised his head to stare at Gwen. There was a new crackling in his chest. Gwaine was too busy watching his sick friend to notice anything. The dark branches of his lifeblood were visible as if pressed against his glistening translucent skin.
"This is my decision and it's fine," gurgled Merlin. "You shouldn't go back to Mordred."
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" demanded Gwen.
"I didn't enchant you, Gwen."
"I don't believe you!" she cried at Merlin.
He shook his head sadly. His head rolling disturbingly on his neck as if it would fall off. He asked Gwaine, "Why aren't we in the cave? We aren't going to Camelot are we? I can't go back...,"
Deciding it was time to rest, Gwaine slid his friend down to the forest floor and propped Merlin's thin frame against a tree. He wasn't as physically tired as much as he was emotionally spent. Even without Gwen falling apart, Merlin's condition was enough to unravel the coldest man. Gwaine wasn't cold, in fact he was quite passionate. His heart was fully invested in feeling. Once he discovered friendship he decided to hold onto it with both hands and get as much strength as he could from it. This was killing him. He was supposed to be bringing Merlin back to Camelot, but from what Glinde told him – it would be an act of futility. Gaius couldn't heal this, only magic could.
Gwaine brought up his water skin to Merlin's lips, but the boy turned his head refusing to drink.
"Please, Merlin."
"No."
"We're not going to Camelot. We probably have a long way to go, this is a short stop. You need to drink," pleaded Gwaine.
Merlin's eyes were narrow, his brain was working in overdrive, "Where are we going? I need the crystals. I need to watch Arthur's enemies."
That surprised Gwaine. Merlin was still watching over Arthur? He grinned. He shouldn't have been surprised. He was happy. He was so happy he had to contain it, he almost reached out to slap some pats on his friend's shoulders. However, the action would probably dislocate appendage from the socket so he resisted. With a smile, he explained, "We're going to get you well. We're going to get the sidhe to heal you. We're going to Avalon."
"NO!" snapped Merlin. He was unhappy. He shook his head as if someone just offered him a meal of uncooked, unskinned deer meat for dinner. "No, I don't want to go to Avalon. I don't want to go to Avalon. Gwaine, turn around. Bring me back to the cave. I want to go back to the cave! I want to go back to the cave! Gwaine!"
Gwen watched the exchange with interest.
Merlin started to heave, but he didn't vomit the contents of his stomach. It was the first time he ever had a witness to this event. He folded his body forward until he was on his knees with his hands placed on the spongy forest floor. With glowing eyes, he arched his back towards the sky and then dropped it towards the ground. Shuddering in a series of spasms, Merlin spontaneously purged some of his magic. Despite the cold, moss thickened, flowers bloomed, and bushes sprang into life. Vines twined ecstatically up trees that had suddenly thickened and bolted into twice the girth and size that they were before. Everything around them was green and lush.
Gwaine had an overwhelming feeling of well-being. He felt refreshed. He had never felt more alive in his entire life. It was as if he had reborn.
A whine escaped Merlin's mouth, "No, no, no... I'm sorry. So sorry. Please don't be scared."
A female was weeping, but it wasn't Gwen. Glinde was on her knees with her forehead pressed to the ground. She kept muttering, "Thank you my Lord for this blessing..." which was quite disturbing. It wasn't as if Gwaine didn't understand her feelings, but she was half treating Merlin like a king and half treating him like a god. Merlin was Merlin. Yes, he was magic, but she needed to get a grip on herself. She had magic as well, she needed to shake this off and be more useful.
Gwaine hauled Merlin to his feet, he figured he would take advantage of Merlin's condition. If his friend had vomited magic, he might be weak and might not be able to make Gwaine obey him. Gwaine slung Merlin over his shoulder again and barked at Glinde to get it together.
The sidhe began to lead them down the path, but then Merlin started to resist again.
"No, no, no..." complained Merlin. "Glinde, I don't want to go to Avalon."
"She's not taking to Avalon. I am. Technically she's not disobeying you."
"Glinde, don't lead him to Avalon," commanded Merlin.
She stopped.
"Glinde, lead on," urged Gwaine, but the slight sidhe female wouldn't budge.
"I can't. My Lord commanded me," came the sad reply.
His burden gave a sigh of relief, but Gwaine wasn't about to give up. He kept moving in the direction that the sidhe had been moving in. He put one foot in front of the other. "Fine, if she won't show me, I'll guess. I have an idea of what direction it's in... and if you won't tell me or won't allow her to show me... We'll travel. Gwen and I won't rest. We'll walk and the longer we walk the longer you'll be away from your crystals. You don't want to enchant your friends do you? Force us to obey with magic? Do you?"
A low moan escaped from Merlin's lips. Gwaine knew he had struck a blow straight to his friend's vitals, but he wasn't going to give in even if his friend cried. He moved passed Glinde who had her head down in shame. He wasn't going to give in.
"Please... no," moaned Merlin. "I don't want to go. I really don't."
"There's lots of things I don't want to do, Merlin. Yet I do them," countered the knight.
Gwen marched along beside them quietly, carefully holding up the delicate hem of her brocade skirts saving it from the filth of the forest floor.
Eventually Merlin's protests faded. The gentle weight of Merlin's head rested on Gwaine's shoulder and sure enough, snuffling began. Heart strings pulled, but the power of guilt did not overpower the sense of responsibility Gwaine felt for the overall health for his friend. Merlin had torn his soul fighting Morganna. He wasn't about to allow Merlin to continue to less than whole.
"We'll get there faster if you allow Glinde to show me the way. After that, we'll talk about the crystal cave, but Merlin. I'm not going to give on this. This is making you sick, you need to be healed. Even if you never forgive me, Merlin, I am doing this for your own good."
"Okay. Fine," muttered Merlin, miserably.
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