A/N: Thank you Meeeeeerlin, Buckhunter, Guest, GuestM, and SnidgetHex for reviewing!

Chapter 4

Arthur woke slowly, his head achy and heavy, which made opening his eyes a delayed, strenuous effort. When he finally managed it, he found himself squinting up at a dark forest canopy. That and the hard, uneven ground beneath him prompted him to try sitting up and looking around. He was in some ruins, and he spotted his knights laid out around the area as well. Merlin was moving from one to another, quickly checking them over. Then Arthur saw Morgana's body lying crumpled several yards away and it all came rushing back.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

He staggered to his feet, his balance as unsteady as the tumultuous emotions roiling inside him.

Merlin looked over, relief flooding his eyes. "You're awake. You've been asleep for over an hour, but the antidote worked. I checked and you don't have the creepy wraith veins anymore. How do you feel? Any lingering sickness?"

"Stop!" Arthur snapped, cutting off his manservant's ramble. He inhaled sharply, heart constricting. "You're a sorcerer."

Merlin's shoulders slumped. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that part."

Arthur gaped at him. Maybe a small part of him had been hoping for a denial, an explanation, not… He sputtered at the audacity. "How could you? You know magic is outlawed, for good reason! When did you decide to start playing around with it?"

Merlin huffed. "I never decided to 'play around with it'; I was born with it."

Arthur blinked. "Excuse me?"

Merlin got to his feet to face him. "I was born with it! I didn't choose it, and I couldn't deny it any more than you could deny being a Pendragon! It's part of me, and according to your father's law, I should be executed just for existing. So excuse me if I didn't go around telling everyone I met about it."

Arthur was stunned by Merlin's vehemence. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from Merlin of all people.

"You're saying you've had magic ever since you first came to Camelot?"

"Since before I could talk."

Arthur's head was reeling. "Why the hell did you come to the one kingdom where it was punishable by death?!"

Merlin's expression twisted with grief. "It wasn't safe in Ealdor. And my mother thought Gaius could teach me to control my magic better."

"So Gaius knows?" Arthur said bitingly.

Merlin gave an awkward shrug.

"Does anyone else?" he demanded.

Merlin grimaced and flicked his gaze to the left. "Lancelot."

Arthur was fuming. Multiple people had harbored a known sorcerer in his kingdom for years. "Anyone else?"

Merlin shook his head. "It's not like I told Lancelot. He found me out. And I wanted to tell you, Arthur! So many times. But every time I thought you were becoming more open-minded about magic, something would happen that would just convince you that it was evil. That all magic was evil."

"It is!"

Merlin looked grieved at that. "I'm still me, Arthur. I've always been me. And I've always used my magic for you."

Arthur shook his head, too furious to respond.

Merlin half turned away from him. "I made up more of the antidote and gave it to each of them," he said, diverting the conversation. "But they had fully succumbed to Morgana's curse and who knows how long they've been under, so I don't know if one dose will be enough. I also don't know how long it will take to bring them back to the land of the living."

"Can't you just use magic?" Arthur said scathingly.

"Magic isn't always an instant miracle fix," Merlin rejoined tartly. "At least not this time, not against this dark of a curse." He shook his head to himself. "Maybe once the curse recedes enough, I could use my magic to eradicate the rest of it, but I don't want to risk killing them in the process. They're barely alive now as it is."

He crouched down by Percival again, and Arthur finally took a minute to look closely at all his knights. They were spaced several feet apart, laid out like corpses in the aftermath of a field of battle, those horrible veins still creeping up their faces. Arthur walked the few paces over to Elyan and knelt down to cup the side of his neck. The touch of cold flesh and lack of a throbbing pulse made him jerk his hand back in horror.

"Merlin…"

"I know," was the soft reply. Merlin came to stand at his shoulders, expression grave as he gazed down at Elyan. "Morgana wasn't exaggerating when she said they were neither alive nor dead."

Arthur cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "Are you sure you can save them?"

Merlin's throat bobbed, but there was a fierce determination in his eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to try." He then turned and went to check on the next knight in the line of lifeless corpses.

Arthur considered their situation. They were stranded, with no horses, no supplies, and five men on the brink of death…or already tipped over. Arthur didn't want to admit he'd lost five of his closest friends, but he also knew things did not look good. And if Morgana was to be believed, the rest of the search party had also met an untimely end, which meant no help would be coming to them. Either Arthur or Merlin would have to go for help, but that would leave one to look after five. Merlin was the logical choice as an apprentice physician, but Arthur couldn't in good conscience leave his manservant defenseless.

Except he wasn't defenseless, a harsh voice hissed in his mind; he was a sorcerer.

Arthur looked back at Merlin. "You used magic to cure yourself of the curse, didn't you?"

Merlin paused in his work tending his patients and nodded. "Yes, early when we were in the cell. It was extremely painful, which is why I don't want to risk trying it on anyone else right now."

Arthur frowned as he recalled that moment in their prison when he'd noticed Merlin curled up in what looked like severe pain. He'd assumed it was from the poison, but it must have been because he'd cured himself. And hadn't said anything.

Arthur shook his head in renewed anger. He still couldn't believe this revelation, and part of him wanted nothing more than to storm off. But he couldn't leave his knights like this. And as much as his instinct was to despise everything related to magic, the fact was his friends were dying from it, and only more magic could save them now.

Merlin was still moving swiftly back and forth between the fallen knights, applying poultice to their palms that bore the same black cuts Arthur and Merlin had been given. Arthur furrowed his brow as he finally noticed some supplies laid out on the granite mockery of the Round Table.

"Where did you get all that?" he asked.

Merlin looked up and then followed Arthur's gaze to the items. "From Morgana's lair in the ruins. There's also a well around that corner." He nodded in the direction he was referring to, then bent over his work again.

Arthur spotted Excalibur on the ground and picked it up. That was the blood of his sister on the blade, and his gaze strayed to Morgana. He walked over and crouched beside her, unsure how to feel now that the threat she posed was gone. After a few moments, he reached out and closed her eyes. Once, he had loved her, even before he knew of their blood relation. But he hardly recognized this twisted thing she had become. Arthur couldn't help glancing at Merlin. He and Morgana couldn't have been more different, and yet Arthur's inclination was to group them together solely because they used magic.

He shoved the philosophical debate down and wiped his sword clean on Morgana's skirts, then slid the blade back into its scabbard. He decided to carry her body deeper into the ruins and out of sight. He almost faltered at the thought of putting her in that cell; it was disrespectful. But it was the best place for her and he had more important concerns on his mind.

When he came back out, he took a breath and asked, "How can I help?"

Merlin swept his gaze around in consideration, then gave Arthur a sheepish look. "If you could help get their cloaks off so I can cut some strips for bandages, that would help. Then we can use the cloaks to try to keep them warm."

Arthur nodded and walked over to Percival. He knelt down and reached to undo the clasps of the knight's cloak, but suddenly Percival's eyes snapped open. They stared straight up, unseeing, and then without warning he lashed a hand up to seize Arthur's throat. Arthur gasped in surprise and tried to prize the unyielding fingers off.

Merlin rushed over and grabbed the knight's arm, pulling with all his might, but Percival's strength was tough to match even when he wasn't under some dark curse. Arthur's cheeks puffed as oxygen couldn't get past the bruising grip.

Then Merlin straightened abruptly and shot a palm out toward Percival. He uttered a word Arthur couldn't catch, but his eyes flared gold, and suddenly Percival fell limp, his fingers sliding loose from Arthur's neck. Arthur doubled over with a ragged gasp, clutching at his throat.

"You all right?" Merlin asked urgently.

Arthur reflexively jerked away and nodded.

Merlin's expression pinched, but he got to his feet and hurried over to the stone table, then returned hastily with a cup of liquid. Arthur recognized the odor of the potion Merlin had made him drink earlier, and he rubbed at his neck as Merlin poured some of the liquid into Percival's mouth, then lifted his head so it would go down his throat instead of pooling there.

"I should give them all a second dose," Merlin said. "Just in case."

"Is it even working?" Arthur asked resignedly.

"I'm going to keep trying," Merlin replied with surprising sharpness. "I'm not giving up on them."

Arthur didn't say anything else and watched him hurry from knight to knight, forcing the potion down their throats. His thoughts and emotions were in tumult. He couldn't reconcile this Merlin, his earnest, optimistic manservant that he'd known and trusted for years, with the glowing eyes and knocking people out with the power of an uttered word. And the betrayal stung fiercely.

But Arthur knew that he and Merlin had to work together if they were going to help their friends. So he returned to the task of removing the knights' cloaks, wary of someone else coming violently awake and attacking him. But they all stayed unconscious and corpse-like, and Arthur honestly didn't know which was worse.

All five of their cloaks were rather filthy, so Arthur decided to just use his to cut several strips into bandages. He left those on the table for Merlin to do with what he wanted and draped the other cloaks over the knights. There was little warmth to be had from the measly fabric when the bodies were as cold as death, so Arthur then set about gathering dead wood and stones to make a fire ring. It wasn't much, and there wasn't space to fit five grown men close enough to it, but it helped Arthur to be doing something.

Night began to fall, and the dark wood grew even darker and more sinister. Arthur knew he wouldn't sleep that night, but neither would Merlin, he figured. All this time he had kept tirelessly checking their friends, desperate for any sign of life among them. Under any other circumstance, Arthur would have teased him for having a fool's hope. Now Arthur found himself wishing for such fortune.

At some point during the night, Merlin's excited shout shattered the eerie silence. "I think it's working!"

Arthur stood up and went over to Gwaine where Merlin was crouched, clutching the knight's wrist.

Merlin looked up, eyes swimming with reflected firelight and hope. "I can feel a pulse."

Arthur knelt down to feel for himself. There it was. A slow, almost sluggish throb, like the body was struggling to remember how to beat with life. But it was something, and it was hope, certainly.

Yet as Arthur studied Gwaine's still lifeless face and those ghastly gray veins, he realized they still had a long night ahead of them.