Thank you all for patiently waiting! This is a really short chapter, I know, but I felt it stood best alone like this. I'm already working on the next chapter, which should be up within the next couple hours.
Chapter 20
Over the next few days, things settled into an uneasy sort of routine. Arthur would rise before the crack of dawn to slip off to Gaius's chambers and check on Merlin-if he hadn't spent the night on the hard-backed chair beside Merlin's inert form. He would often find the rest of the knights there, Gwaine being the most frequent visitor. Gwen came by in the mornings to relieve Gaius for a spell, so that he could rest and attend to some of his other duties, which were many.
How long they would stick to this routine was uncertain. Any sense of stability was shaky, as it depended on Merlin's continued survival. The odds would fluctuate day by day.
Agravaine remained in the dungeons under close guard, awaiting his execution. Morgana was nowhere to be found, though the search continued on in earnest, with all available men being dispatched. In the meantime, Arthur had a rotation of guards standing watch outside Merlin's room, in case Morgana decided to try anything to finish Merlin off. As things stood at the moment, however, she likely wouldn't need to.
Every time Arthur came down to the physician's quarters, his insides would be flooded with a mix of stubborn hope, and icy dread. When Gaius would open the door, Arthur's stomach would clench anew, until Gaius reassured him that Merlin still breathed. Relief would set in, marred by the worry caused by the fact that Merlin wasn't improving.
The broken bones had been reset, and were getting better. The burns and knife wounds were steadily healing, and Gaius had treated the infections. But Merlin had lost a lot of blood. More blood than was possible for someone to lose and live, Gaius told Arthur. By all rights, Merlin should've been dead. Gaius theorized that his magic was to thank for his continued survival. Still, Merlin's body was weak. Possibly too weak to recover, what with the blood loss and lack of sustenance.
Merlin's time in captivity had starved him to the point of emaciation. His cheeks were sunken, and his ribs jutted out. Gaius tried his best to get some nourishment into him, but it was easier said than done. Forcing food down Merlin was a challenge in itself. He fought back surprisingly well for someone on the verge of death. What's more, his body seemed to reject most forms of nutrition, despite Gaius's best efforts.
The biggest threat was the persistent fever plaguing Merlin, wracking his body with chills and tremors. He constantly shook with cold, despite his burning temperature, and nothing seemed to be enough to warm him.
Arthur and Gwaine, who alternated staying nights by Merlin's bedside, would watch as Merlin shuddered with cold, no matter how many blankets they piled on top of him.
The worst part were the nightmares. Merlin tossed and turned restlessly, muttering disjointed fragments and phrases which they struggled to comprehend. Gaius told them some of the words were from the Old Religion, spells, but most of what he said meant nothing. He would call out their names, mostly Arthur and Gaius. Sometimes he said Morgana's name, and his dreams always seemed more disturbing at those times. Often he would cry out in pain or fear, and they would watch him miserably, helpless to do anything for his distress.
All they could do, as Gaius kept telling them, every time Arthur came over to him and told him Merlin had had another nightmare, or Gwaine ran over to inform him about Merlin's rising fever, was wait and see.