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Chapter 17

It was a bloodbath.

Agravaine and his men didn't stand a chance, especially with the reserves Arthur had sent ahead to meet Leon, Percival, and King Cenred's soldiers.

It should've felt satisfying, defeating the enemies of Camelot. But it wasn't. All Percival and Leon felt was tired. Tired of the fighting, tired of the betrayal that seemed to follow their king despite his loyalty to his kingdom. They were tired of finding out those they had called friend were in fact foe. For most of Morgana's followers had once been subjects of King Arthur. They had fought alongside these men in many a battle, had thrown their lives on the line. There was no glory in this.

But it was kill or be killed, and they had a duty to Camelot, and their king. So Camelot's fighters did their utmost to defend themselves from their attackers.

Lacking the element of surprise, Agravaine no longer had any advantage.

Part of Leon wondered why Morgana had failed to show up for the battle. With a single wave of her hand the fight would've been over before it begun. Surely Morgana would protect her loyal followers?

But then he remembered: This Morgana knew nothing of loyalty. She was something entirely different, everything good about her twisted into something sinister by the trials life had thrown at her. She was loyal only to herself.

With their enemy dead, and Agravaine apprehended, Leon made to order the troops to return to Camelot. Nothing was keeping them here. He was ready to go home, and forget about all of this.

But Percival stopped him. He motioned toward the bodies littering the ground.

"We need to bury them," he said quietly. "And identify them if we can. Their families deserve to know what happened to them."

Leon sighed, but nodded in agreement. Percival waved their troops over, and they got to work.

Arthur knocked softly on the door. Within seconds, Gaius had poked his head out. He motioned Arthur forward, holding a finger to his lips. Obediently, Arthur tiptoed silently into the room.

"How is he Gaius?" he asked in an undertone. Despite their protests, Gaius had forced them out of the room in the wee hours of morning, and told them not to come back till they'd bathed, eaten, and gotten some sleep. "You'll do no good to Merlin if you sicken yourselves worrying about him." he'd said firmly.

Now Arthur blushed as Gaius stared pointedly at the dark circles he knew were under his eyes. "I tried," he said sheepishly, just as Gwaine burst noisily into the room, knocking over an end table. It fell over with a loud thump, and a dozen vials rolled to the floor.

"How is he?" Gwaine asked Arthur, voice dropping to a whisper at Gaius's stern look.

"Gaius was just about to tell me," said Arthur, stooping down to pick up the vials and right the table. "Gaius?"

"You knights," Gaius muttered, "So impatient, and no idea what it means to be quiet in a sickroom." But his lips twitched.

"He is in bad shape," Gaius began. "There has been no improvement. But that is not necessarily a bad thing," he added hastily, when their faces fell.

Gwaine raised his eyebrows. "How do you figure that?"

"Well, he hasn't declined either," Gaius explained."There has been no change, which at least means he's stabilized somewhat."

Arthur followed his worried gaze to Merlin's still form. Gwaine brushed past him, and sat down by the bed. Not to be outdone, Arthur followed quickly, taking Merlin's limp hand in his own. He dropped it just as quickly, feeling the burning temperature.

"Gaius." he murmured, heart thrumming inside him.

"I know," Gaius sighed.

"I thought you said he was stabilized."

"No." Gaius corrected. "Stabilized somewhat. He is in no more danger than he was last night. But he is also in no less." He too came to the bed and gazed down at his young ward.

Though there was no improvement, he definitely looked better than he had before, now that his bandages were freshly changed, and his face and wounds washed. Arthur noticed his ribs were taped up, but his right leg had still not been tended to.

"I wanted to reset the bones last night," said Gaius, noticing Arthur looking at Merlin's leg. "I tried to give him a sleeping draught beforehand, but he couldn't keep it down. And when I tried again just a few hours ago," he continued, "he refused to swallow it."

Even in slumber, Merlin muttered restlessly. His head turned to and fro on the pillow. His eyelids fluttered, and he shivered and moaned feverishly. Gaius dipped a new compress into water and switched it with the now warm one on Merlin's forehead.

"He heats up the compresses faster than I can change them," said Gaius. "And this sleep he's in does not seem to be helpful at all. We need to get him into a deeper state of sleep.

"Can we help Gaius?" Arthur asked hopefully. Next to him, Gwaine nodded eagerly. "We'll do anything you need."

"Hmm." Gaius looked thoughtful. "Anything?"

Arthur felt a flash of apprehension, but he shook his head in affirmation.

"It'll be hard," Gaius warned them, "both to watch and to do." When they didn't back down, he nodded slowly. "Very well then. Arthur, go to the left cupboard and fetch me a laudanum draught. Gwaine, get me a roll of fresh bandages."

When they returned, Gaius pointed to Merlin's bad leg. "We're going to reset the leg. It has begun to mend on its own, but incorrectly. We need to set it right."

He looked back at them. "Gwaine," he ordered, "sit Merlin up. Be mindful of his ribs." Gwaine carefully eased Merlin up on the pillows, being gentle enough that Merlin only let out a small whimper. Still Gwaine looked extremely guilty.

Gaius turned to Arthur. "Sire, will you hold his nose for me?" Arthur nodded. He knew what was coming. He tipped Merlin's head back, and pinched his nostrils shut. Only moments passed before Merlin was opening his mouth, struggling for air. Immediately, Gaius poured the draught down Merlin's throat. Merlin choked and gargled, trying to spit up the concoction, but Arthur forced his mouth shut so that most of the potion went down. For a few seconds, Merlin struggled under the arms holding him down, but the draught was quick to take effect. His body relaxed, and his breaths became slower, more rhythmic.

Gaius studied him. "I think we can begin. Gwaine, keep his head still. Hands on either side." Gwaine complied. "Now, Arthur. Come to his midsection, press one arm down on it, then one across his left leg and upper right." Arthur did so, trying his best not to press too hard.

Gaius flexed his fingers, then grasped Merlin's leg. "He may struggle, even with the draught," he warned, "so be ready. On the count of three." On three, Gaius wrenched Merlin's calf in the proper direction.

Merlin's back arched on the bed, and he tried to kick his legs. Arthur held them down. The boy screamed almost as loudly as he had the previous night. Arthur saw Gwaine's face turn green. He too was trying not to vomit, figuring it wouldn't be very kingly.

"Shh, Merlin," Gaius whispered soothingly, "We're finished. We're all finished." Merlin whimpered again, a pitiful sound that pulled at Arthur.

Gaius took the bandages, applied the plaster mix he'd prepared to them, then proceeded to wrap them around Merlin's leg.

Merlin cried out every so often, but the draught seemed to be taking effect, lulling him into a deeper sleep, deep enough not to need to feel anymore.

His face was still flushed with fever, but he slept comfortably, brow no longer furrowed in pain.

"That's it for now," Gaius murmured. "We need to get his fever down, but there's not much else to do on our end. It's up to Merlin now." He brushed the boy's hair out of his eyes, and patted his cheek gently. "All we can do now is wait."