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


Chapter 2

Lancelot trudged along at the back of the troop, gritting his teeth as each step jarred his aching shoulder. There was no sign of the masked beings that had ambushed them. Merlin walked beside him, gaze constantly on the move, eyes peeled against the winter landscape.

"What do you make of those creatures?" Lancelot asked quietly.

"I think they might be fae," Merlin replied. "But I have no idea what they'd be doing out here. The Fae have their own realm."

And they certainly didn't seem to be in a talking mood so the knights could find out.

A shiver wracked Lancelot's body, jolting his shoulder. He tried to get his good arm to pull his cloak tighter about him.

"Are you okay?" Merlin asked.

Lancelot nodded. "Just cold. We're all cold."

"That ice arrow couldn't have helped," Merlin pointed out. "How's the shoulder?"

"Cold and sore from getting shot with an ice arrow," Lancelot deadpanned, then offered his friend a reassuring smile. "It'll keep until we finish our mission here."

Unfortunately, there was still no sign of their quarry by the time the sun began to set and they were forced to make camp. Several fires were set, not only to ward off the chill but also to keep watch for their unearthly foes lest they return in the dead of night. Lancelot was so cold that once one of the campfires was blazing, he inadvertently forsook any other duty he should have been attending to and moved to sit as close to the flames as possible. No one commented on his dereliction, and Merlin delayed starting supper in favor of heating some water for him to drink.

Lancelot tried to sip at it steadily rather than glug it all down at once. He wasn't very hungry when Merlin had finished cooking them something to eat, but the rations were warm too so he downed them for that reason alone.

Arthur doled out the watches for the night and didn't include Lancelot in the rotation, no doubt in deference to his wound.

Although it wasn't that late yet and several knights were clustered together, whispering about the strange creatures they were tracking, Lancelot bundled himself up in his cloak and laid down facing the fire to try to sleep. He was so cold, though, that sleep eluded him. Shivers were constantly wracking his body now, and he tried inching closer toward the open flames, but their radiating warmth just didn't seem to penetrate the block of ice he'd become.

He must have nodded off eventually because when he woke the next morning, there was a second cloak covering him. He wasn't shivering anymore, but neither was he warm by any measure. His entire body felt stiff, and pushing himself up into a sitting position was difficult, and not just because of his wounded shoulder.

Percival was sitting on a log a short distance away, sans cloak. Lancelot stiffly got to his feet and went over to give the knight his cloak back.

"Thank you."

Percival just nodded.

The others started to rise as dawn bled further into the sky, suffusing the low-hanging clouds with daylight. They made quick work of cleaning up their campsite and then moved out, tracking their ever elusive targets. Lancelot wasn't the only one wondering why the fae had so thoroughly disappeared.

"It doesn't make sense," Leon commented as they studied a wide patch of undisturbed snow, trying to figure out which way to go. "Why attack us and then utterly vanish?"

"Arthur did kill one of them," Merlin pointed out. "As magical creatures, they may not be used to death, may have never faced it before."

"And so now they're too afraid to fight us again?" Gwaine said dubiously.

"If we could be so lucky," Arthur muttered. "But we can't leave the northern villages unprotected. We have to make sure these creatures cannot attack them again once we're gone."

And so they pressed on, through the snow and trees, a band of figures splashed in bright red against white and pale grays. They stood out like sore thumbs, and still the fae bandits stayed away.

Lancelot was shivering uncontrollably again and he didn't know why. All this walking should have kept his blood flowing enough to warm his limbs. He folded his arms around his middle and rubbed briskly at his arms, but his wounded shoulder protested the movement with a spasm. Not that he could move his right arm much at all; his shoulder had stiffened up to the point where it felt like that entire section of his body was a solid block of ice.

He tried to roll out the stiffness, knowing he wouldn't be able to wield his sword with that arm if it locked up, but that sent shooting pain across his chest, and he sucked in a harsh gasp, quickly aborting the attempt.

"You all right?" Elyan asked, eyeing Lancelot worriedly.

"Fine," he replied breathlessly, determined to keep up.

But it wasn't much later that his legs started to stagger and it was taking all his effort just to put one foot in front of the other. Then he stumbled and pitched forward, catching himself on a tree instead of face planting on the ground.

Merlin was immediately at his side and gripping his elbow firmly to hold him up. Lancelot was vaguely aware of the rest of the troop noticing the disruption and coming to a halt.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, making his way back from the lead position.

Merlin adjusted his grip on Lancelot's arm so he could press the back of a hand to his forehead. "He's freezing," he exclaimed in alarm.

"S-sorry," Lancelot murmured through chattering teeth.

Arthur's expression was grim as he regarded him. "You and Merlin should have stayed at the campsite," he said, recriminating tone directed against himself. He pursed his mouth in thought, and Lancelot could guess what he was thinking—he couldn't leave two men unprotected when they had no idea where the wandering threat currently was.

"I'll stay with them," Gwaine spoke up.

Arthur nodded at that. "We'll find a more sheltered place for you to set up camp."

With that, Merlin pulled Lancelot's uninjured shoulder over his own and braced him as they stumbled after the others. Percival and Elyan hovered close behind in case they were needed, but they didn't have to go far before they found a glade that was suitable.

Lancelot's friends quickly set to gathering kindling and getting a fire going while Merlin swept a bunch of snow away with his boot and then helped ease Lancelot onto the ground.

"Elyan," Arthur said, "find something to mark our path once we leave." He looked worriedly at Lancelot and Merlin. "Will you be all right?"

"We'll make do," Merlin answered. "Just be careful."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

With that, there was nothing left to say or do, and the rest of the knights had to reluctantly continue on without three of their number.

"'M sorry," Lancelot mumbled again. "I don't k-know why this is hap-pening."

"You're wounded," Merlin replied as though it was plainly obvious. "And I should have checked your shoulder this morning. Gwaine, help me get his chainmail off."

Lancelot groaned in anticipation of the pain from moving and the blast of cold air that would get under his shirt as a result.

Gwaine crouched behind him and he and Merlin lifted Lancelot's mail shirt to get it up over his head. He tried to help, but his limbs were too stiff to move on their own accord, and he bit back cries of pain as Gwaine and Merlin forced his arms out of the sleeves. The shock of cold air wasn't as wretched as Lancelot had expected, mostly because he was already so thoroughly frozen through.

Merlin unwrapped the bandages and then pulled aside Lancelot's tunic to get a look at the wound underneath. He frowned as he palpated the area. "No sign of infection or bleeding."

Lancelot clenched his jaw as pain lanced down his chest again.

"The cold can bring down any man," Gwaine commented. "Especially if he's already injured."

"Then I guess all that's to be done is to get you warmed up," Merlin said, picking up the bandages so he could bind Lancelot's shoulder again. "We might as well leave the chainmail off," he added. "The metal won't help any."

Gwaine unclasped Lancelot's cloak from his armor, then his own, and wrapped them both snugly around Lancelot as he sat in front of the campfire.

But just like last night, he could see the flames, knew what their warmth was supposed to feel like, yet still they didn't manage to touch him at all.


Merlin sat on the cold ground next to Lancelot, watching as he shivered under the two layers of cloaks. He'd lain down on his side a while ago, as close to the campfire as he could get without catching the cloaks on fire, and had slipped into a fretful doze. Merlin was getting worried that Lancelot only seemed to be getting worse, and he wanted to cast a spell to help warm him up. It was just Gwaine there…

Still, Merlin didn't take revealing his magic lightly. He pursed his mouth and glanced at Gwaine, whose attention was divided between Lancelot and the surrounding trees. Merlin could try to whisper a spell, angle himself away from Gwaine so he likely wouldn't notice anything…

Gwaine stood up. "Nature calls."

Or Gwaine could just leave for a few minutes.

Merlin waited tensely as he walked off into the woodland and then moved closer to Lancelot to take the chance to cast a warming spell. Except it didn't work. Merlin frowned and tried again, pushing more power into the casting. Lancelot didn't react, nor did his shivering ease. Merlin didn't understand. He pressed his hand over Lancelot's forehead, feeling how ice cold he was, and cast the spell a third time. But it was like his magic couldn't penetrate the chill at all.

The crunch of snow alerted him to Gwaine's return.

"How is he?"

Merlin's jaw tightened. "Not good. I don't know if we can wait for Arthur to come back."

"We're a long way from Camelot. I don't know if just the two of us can get him there," Gwaine replied. "I suppose we'll have to try sharing body heat," he added resignedly.

Merlin nodded; he should have thought of that. "I'll do it. You're supposed to be standing guard." And with the close proximity, he could keep trying to cast covert spells.

Merlin started shrugging out of his jacket, a mighty shiver zinging up his spine. This was going to be unpleasant. Gwaine started removing the cloaks from around Lancelot to get his shirt off, only to stiffen.

"Merlin."

Merlin looked over to where Gwaine had pulled Lancelot's tunic up…and there was a deep bluish tinge to his skin peeking out from the edges of the bandages. Merlin quickly began to unwrap them and found Lancelot's entire shoulder was blue. And not the blue that came from cold, but almost the same shade as the slain fae's complexion had been.

"Merlin…" Gwaine said.

He shook his head. He didn't know what this was, but he knew it wasn't good. He leaned forward and urgently patted Lancelot's cheek. "Lancelot!"

Lancelot moaned and cracked his eyes open, gaze foggy.

"Wake up," Merlin urged, slapping his cheek again.

Lancelot blinked languidly. "C-c-cold."

"I know, but you have to fight it. Stay with us."

Lancelot mumbled something incoherent and gave a violent shiver.

"Is this some kind of poison?" Gwaine asked.

"If it is, it's a magical one," Merlin replied. "We need to find Arthur."

"Neither one of us can go off on our own traipsing after him, and we can't carry Lancelot like this either," Gwaine pointed out.

Merlin pressed his mouth into a tight line. Gwaine was right; there was no way Merlin would be able to convince him to leave the two of them here unprotected to go after Arthur and warn him. And Merlin couldn't leave Lancelot like this. He needed a cure, fast, but Merlin had no idea what that cure was or how to find it. They were too far away from Camelot and Gaius's books. They'd probably need to capture one of the fae and interrogate them, but they'd have to catch up to Arthur for that, unless the knights still didn't find any sign of the bandits and decided to come back to the camp for the night. But did Lancelot have that long?

"I don't suppose body heat is going to help after all," Gwaine added.

Merlin looked at the deepening blue skin and shook his head. That was probably also why his magic hadn't worked—something was preventing it. Some fae magic.

They bundled Lancelot up in the cloaks again and sat close to him, not sharing skin-to-skin body heat but trying to provide a little extra warmth.

The only problem was, if not even Merlin's magic could fight this, what would?