Authors notes: Thank you for the lovely reviews. Enjoy!
OO 3 days later OO
Lancelot was still. To Arthur this was worse than the delirium; it was like death had already claimed his friend. His soul had fled and his body was slightly behind but would soon follow. The quiet allowed his overworked mind to continue producing all sorts of scenarios that could possible happen from the bad to the very worse. After working through a possibility that resulted in their bloody deaths he decided enough was enough. With a deep sigh he cleared his head and rose to his feet starting to pace backwards and forwards across the room which turned out to be ten paces in total. This went on for about five minutes before he grew bored and returned to his chair.
"What is so exciting that you would rather sleep than face the world?" he whispered as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the pallet.
"She had better be pretty." He smiled slightly but it quickly faded. Lancelot wasn't dreaming about a girl, he was suffering. The suffering was not something superficial that could be pressed into the background by the actions of a pretty girl. Death could and probably would result but even if he did survive the mental anguish would continue. Lancelot would not let it show, he was a man who let things stew beneath the surface while the smiling, cocky façade masked it. Granted Lancelot lost his temper but it was usually on trifling matters, deep and horrendous problems the knight would never allow to surface. Arthur knew they ate at him day after day. The longer the knight served or rather was enslaved by Rome the harder it became to see the real Lancelot. Arthur secretly worried that if any of them lived to see the fifteen years out the years following would be the more dangerous with nothing for them to focus their anger upon and they would have to look within at the men they were. Releasing a deep sigh he sat back.
Yesterday Arthur had seen the mark.
He had been lost for words. That single-handedly would cause the knight more pain than any sword or arrow wound could ever achieve. He had been branded a slave, something that the knight had been for many years but it was now boldly emblazoned across his skin for all to see long after his service was done, he would never escape it. Arthur had no idea what he could do and having talked to Crassus he knew it would never heal or even fade. A conversation he had with Jols had enabled him to see the depth to which Lancelot had already been affected by the mark. Arthur shuddered as he thought of Lancelot's determination to take the knife and cut it off. It scared him deeply. He knew that Lancelot would try it again and again until he succeeded even if it meant death. For a fraction of a second Arthur wondered if Lancelot never woke up would it be such a terrible thing. Was it only his selfish desires to have his friend by his side again that drove him to wish his friend awake? Would it be kinder to let him pass? As soon as these thoughts crossed his mind he damned himself to his god's hell for even entertaining the idea. Lancelot would deal with it with the help of everyone here, himself most certainly included. However, a small part of him still doubted.
The opening of the door announced the arrival of Crassus carrying a multitude of things that were precariously balanced in his arms. Arthur moved to help but the doctor shook his head slightly.
"Everything has its position." He murmured as if afraid that speaking too loud would send them crashing to the floor. Moving quickly he deposited them on the table and started making a new mixture of the healing paste.
"How is he?" Arthur asked the question for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"Fine." Crassus…wait! Arthur was watching the man and his lips hadn't moved, now unless he had developed a staggeringly impressive ability to speak without moving his lips it meant…
Arthur turned so fast he stumbled. Lancelot had his eyes open and was staring at the pair. Crassus seemed to take it in his stride.
"How did I know that would be your first word?" he muttered as he moved to stand next to the pallet.
Lancelot didn't answer and turned his head to face the wall.
"Lancelot?" Arthur asked tentatively as he stepped closer. The knight remained silent.
"Doctor?" Arthur demanded.
"He has just woken; he is not going to be at his most talkative."
"Never stopped him before." Arthur commented before he could stop himself.
"He is awake." Lancelot muttered weakly and angrily.
Arthur was taken aback and froze for a moment. Crassus sensing this situation was about to deteriorate turned to face Arthur. The Roman looked lost.
"I have to change his bandages why don't you get some rest and have something to eat. It would appear that the antidote worked."
Arthur waited for Lancelot to acknowledge him further but it was to no avail. With a sigh he turned to leave shutting the door quietly behind him.
"Awake and grumpy then." Bors said from his position by Galahad's bed.
"He is awake but not talkative."
The three knights, minus Galahad who was sleeping and Tristan who was doing something else, couldn't have been more shocked if Arthur had said Lancelot had converted to Christianity and was planning to enter the church. Lancelot if it was possible was mouthier when he was wounded; normally so much so that many had wished him back into unconsciousness.
"Can we see him?" Gawain asked.
"I don't think it would be a good idea."
The knights exchanged concerned glances. Tristan chose this moment to enter the room.
"Merlin is back." He stated.
"Lancelot's awake and not talking." Dagonet shared their news. Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting." He commented.
"Well that's one view of it. Him being a bloody annoying shit is another." Bors groaned. "I need a drink."
Dagonet slapped him hard on the back. "You always need a drink."
"Galahad will be sleeping for a while lets go drinking." Bors said nudging Gawain.
"Sounds good but we have an annoying old woad to deal with first." Gawain pointed out. Bors cursed heartily.
"Well lets do it quickly then me and Vanora have a lot of time to make up. Dagonet needs to refresh his herding of bastards as well."
Dagonet frowned good-naturedly.
"So Merlin first then Lancelot…" Gawain said pulling himself to his feet.
Bors moaned. "We are never going to drink." Dagonet patted him on the back comfortingly as the knights followed Arthur out.
O
Crassus worked in silence watching Lancelot carefully. The knight seemed to be having trouble with nausea and he was swallowing harshly. He moved the bowl closer and was just in time as Lancelot threw up repeatedly. Crassus winced knowing that it was bound to be extremely painful to his other wounds. Merlin's potion was obviously purging the knight's system of the poison. The doctor rubbed Lancelot's back to try and offer some comfort which would have seemed out of place anywhere but there. As soon as he finished Lancelot groaned and curled back up.
"No no no. You need to lay down straight and keep still otherwise your wounds are going to reopen."
"Hurts." A very weak voice uttered and Crassus sighed.
"I know." He realised that for Lancelot to utter that word meant the knight was very ill. "But it will hurt worse if you stay like that."
Lancelot uncurled himself and lay panting on the pallet. Crassus moved to try and attend the wound for a second time when Lancelot lurched forward again.
"Diryn." Crassus cried. A small boy hurried into the room.
"I need water and lots of it. Also get Arthur here as soon as he is able." The boy shot off and Crassus quickly turned back to the knight. This could not continue the repeated vomiting was exhausting him. If that had been the only problem it wouldn't be as bad but with Lancelot's other wounds he was losing precious energy that he really couldn't afford to lose. He hoped Arthur would hurry for the prognosis was not good.
OO