A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, GuestM, Buckhunter, pallysAramisRios, Guest, and Hodophile-Sandhiller for reviewing!
Chapter 8
Merlin stood by the door with Gaius and Arthur, watching Percival dab a cloth over Lancelot's brow as he shivered and moaned in the throes of withdrawal.
"There's no telling how long he was forced to take the drug," Gaius was telling Arthur quietly. "The next few days could be very difficult."
Arthur ran a hand down his face. "As if he hasn't been through enough."
"We'll do everything we can to get him through this, Sire," Gaius promised. "But I cannot minimize the severity of this development, especially since we don't know precisely what we're dealing with."
Arthur nodded soberly. "I know you and Merlin will do your best." He paused. "And the other prisoners we freed?"
"If they were given the drug, then they are likely in the same state now."
"You couldn't have known," Merlin said, finally tearing his gaze away from Lancelot. "And most of them didn't even want our help. That's not your responsibility."
Arthur didn't look consoled, but he drew his shoulders back and crossed the room to go stand beside the person he could help, if only by being there.
Lancelot looked up at him, bathed in sweat and twitching uncontrollably. "I'm sorry," he rasped.
"For what?" Arthur asked incredulously.
"I've disgraced the Knight's Code." His body jerked and he bit his lip against another groan.
"What happened to you was not your fault," Arthur said firmly.
Lancelot's eyes watered and he squeezed them shut, turning his face away. "You don't know what I did…" he whispered.
"Whatever you did, it was to survive," Arthur countered. "And you did. You survived."
A tear escaped Lancelot's tightly closed lids to run into the streams of sweat already soaking his face. "Please," he gasped. "I would rather my king not see me like this."
Arthur looked a bit crestfallen, but he nodded respectfully. "Alright. I'll let the others know you won't be up for visitors for a while. But, Lancelot," he paused until his knight looked his way again. "You are still the bravest man I have ever known. You'll get through this too."
Arthur then nodded solemnly to Percival, Merlin, and Gaius, and left.
"You should go too," Lancelot murmured to Percival, who shook his head staunchly.
"Not this time."
Lancelot didn't have much wherewithal to argue further, too consumed by the tremors and sickness wracking his body. While Percival stayed by his side, Merlin and Gaius set to making some broth and tonics. Lancelot took them at first, until his symptoms worsened and he started throwing half of them back up. Between that and the cold sweat, Gaius was worried about dehydration, so he tried mixing up some ginger root tea.
The shakes were so bad that Lancelot couldn't grasp the cup, and even when Percival tried to wrap his hands around Lancelot's own to steady it, the sick knight's arm was shaking enough to send the liquid sloshing over the sides to splash the blankets and his chest.
His moans of misery became a constant backdrop, pulling at Merlin's heart. Percival looked equally distraught over it and the fact that nothing they did seemed to help.
Merlin brought over another tonic to try, but Lancelot was jerking and shaking so much that he'd likely spill half of it down himself again. Merlin decided to try another tack. He held out his hand over Lancelot and uttered a spell, hoping to alleviate at least the worst of the symptoms. He did not expect Lancelot to jolt violently and cry out.
"Stop," he begged.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Percival asked urgently.
Merlin stood frozen, hand still outstretched. He pulled it in and watched Lancelot settle back into minor tremors.
"Merlin?" Gaius prompted, appearing at his side. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I tried to cast a spell, but it looked like it hurt him."
"Why would it do that?" Percival asked.
Merlin shook his head, at a loss. Lancelot hadn't reacted that way when Merlin had cast the sleeping spell on him. But then again, he'd been in such excruciating pain he probably hadn't noticed at the time.
"The brand might be interfering," Gaius said. "I'll start researching it."
Merlin shifted uncertainly before sitting on the edge of the cot. "Lancelot. Here, try to drink this."
Lancelot whimpered and tried to roll away from him. Merlin slipped one arm beneath his head, lifting it into the crook of his elbow, and held the cup to Lancelot's lips. Percival took hold of his shaking arms and gently pinned them to the cot, rubbing his hands up and down in an attempt to soothe him as Merlin plied him with the tonic. Once he'd gotten it down and kept it down, Merlin went to help Gaius with that research.
The good thing was that after Merlin came out about his magic and Arthur repealed the ban, Gaius was able to openly accumulate more books on sorcery; the downside of course was there was so much to look through.
A knock at the door interrupted their reading, and Merlin got up to answer it. It was Gwen, expression pinched with worry.
"How is he?" she asked.
Merlin shifted uneasily as he kept the door partially closed, blocking most of the view of the room. "Not good," he admitted.
"Is there anything I can do to help? I could sit with him. I may be queen now but I once tended Uther in his convalescence."
Merlin shook his head regretfully. "Lancelot wouldn't want you to see him like this. He already asked Arthur to stay away."
"I know, but I can't bear to just sit around waiting. I want to help," she persisted.
"I know you do," Merlin replied. "But you being here won't help Lancelot right now. When he's over the worst of it, maybe."
Gwen's expression fell but she nodded. "When will that be?"
Merlin's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I don't know."
He reluctantly closed the door on her and returned to his research.
Into day three of the withdrawal, Lancelot started fighting them when they tried to get him to drink anything. Merlin even tried sweetening some of the more bitter tonics with honey, but it didn't do any good.
Percival sat on the cot with Lancelot pulled against his chest and large arms encircling the sick knight as he shivered and tossed his head side to side. Merlin leaned over him with yet another cup of medicine.
"Lancelot, come on, you have to drink something."
Lancelot just kept wrenching his head back and forth. "No," he gasped. "Just let me die. Please."
Merlin's heart fractured at the anguish in the broken plea. "You're not going to die," he said, managing to keep his voice calm and steady. "But you're very sick, which is why you need to drink this."
Merlin leaned closer again, and again Lancelot tried to twist away, almost knocking the cup out of Merlin's hand with his chin.
"Please stop," he sobbed. "Just stop. I can't take anymore."
"Do not give up," Merlin pleaded back.
Lancelot finally stopped struggling and submitted to taking the medicine, but there was defeat in his eyes and silent tears streaming down his face.
Percival tucked his chin over Lancelot's shoulder and continued to hold on tight.
It took four whole days for the drug withdrawal to run its course, and by the time it was over, Lancelot looked like he was on death's doorstep: pale, wan, with purple-black smudges deep in the hollows beneath his eyes. He was finally sleeping now, though with the tremors gone his stillness reminded Merlin too much of a corpse, and he kept inching back toward the cot to check his friend was breathing.
"You both should get some rest now," Gaius said. "I imagine he'll be asleep for a while."
They were all exhausted, but Merlin was reluctant to take his eyes off Lancelot. So was Percival, by the looks of it.
"What if something happens?" the large knight asked fearfully.
"I'll keep a close eye on him," Gaius promised.
"Take my room," Merlin suggested. "We'll call you if anything happens."
Percival frowned. "What about you?"
Merlin shrugged and gave him a forced smile of levity. "I'm used to sleeping on the floor."
Percival hesitated still, but then finally relented and shuffled off to Merlin's room.
Merlin turned to Gaius. "What about the brand?" They'd found a way to potentially neutralize it, but their research hadn't come across anything that said it interfered with other magic. Maybe it had been the drug withdrawal.
"We should wait until he's a bit stronger," Gaius answered and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Don't worry, my boy, we've brought him this far. Now get some rest. You'll be no good to him if you collapse from exhaustion."
Merlin's mouth quirked ruefully, and he went to grab one of the blankets from Gaius's bed, which he then laid out on the floor next to the patient cot. Pillowing his head in his arms, Merlin lay there simply listening to Lancelot's reedy breathing in the stillness of the room before his own weariness pulled him under.
.o.0.o.
When Lancelot woke to the feeling of stillness for the first time in…he couldn't even remember how long it'd been, he didn't even try to move or open his eyes. He felt utterly wrecked from the withdrawal sickness, like his body was a hollowed out husk, so weak that he doubted it would respond if he did try to move it. So he lay there, eyes closed, as soft noises bustled somewhere in the vicinity. The profound disappointment of finding himself still alive was staggering, and the fact that he felt disappointment over it was frightening in its own way. He had finally escaped the cage, only to be reduced to this. And there would be no potion to revive the strength in his limbs this time. He thought he'd been laid bare in that hellhole, but now he had been stripped down the rest of the way to utterly nothing.
A warm, damp cloth touched his face and gently stroked down his neck. He tried to ignore it, not wanting to face reality just yet, but then it moved to his bare shoulder and across his chest and he couldn't help but shudder in unease and open his eyes.
Percival went still in surprise, his hand wielding the cloth. "You're awake," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"
Lancelot licked his lips and was suddenly aware of how dry his throat was. Percival reached behind him for a cup and lifted Lancelot's head a few inches to help him drink. The floral taste coupled with honey caught him off guard; he'd half expected the taste of sludge, he'd gotten so used to it…and part of him still yearned for the relief it had offered, if only to be able to feel his arms and legs attached to his body. But there was no way to get any more, not that he truly wanted to become dependent on the vile drink again.
After taking a few sips, Lancelot closed his eyes, forgetting that he hadn't answered Percival's question. Percival laid his head gently back on the pillow and after a few minutes continued to wipe him down with the warm cloth. His skin was sticky from sweat and sickness, but that wasn't an unusual sensation. Feeling clean was. Lancelot let himself drift in a half doze. The door opened and closed, and Percival's muffled voice broke the silence.
"He woke up for a minute."
There was an indistinct reply, and then a hand touched his shoulder.
"Lancelot?"
He forced his eyes open again to see Merlin smiling down at him.
"Hey, how about some broth?"
"Not hungry," Lancelot murmured.
"You need to start getting your strength back, though," Merlin responded and moved away to grab a bowl.
Lancelot didn't argue; what was the point? They'd simply force it down his throat.
Percival scooted behind his head to prop him up a bit and Merlin sat on the edge of the cot to hold a steaming bowl to his lips. The hot liquid made Lancelot shiver, and he registered again that he wasn't wearing anything under the blankets.
"Can I have some clothes?" he asked meekly.
"Of course!" Merlin replied. "Sorry, you were sweating so much through the withdrawal, we thought they'd just make you more uncomfortable. And hey, you never got that bath. I'll have another one drawn for you. Percival can help you, and while you're in it, I'll change the bedding and get you some fresh clothes, and you'll feel much better with all that, I'm sure."
Lancelot didn't say anything. He couldn't even hold himself up at the moment, let alone bathe himself. Yet another indignity.
But he found he was becoming too numb to care anymore.
About anything.