A/N: Thank you Hodophile-Sandhiller, GuestM, PadrePedro, Buckhunter, pallysAramisRios, Guest, and Eris for reviewing!


Chapter 4

If Merlin never had to trudge through snow again, it would be too soon. It hampered their pace when they desperately needed haste. Lancelot's eyes had closed at some point, and Merlin didn't know whether that was worse than the open, vacant gaze or not. He was still half frozen as well, and Merlin wouldn't be getting a chance to try another warming spell with all the knights around. He didn't know what else to do except pray his friend held out until they could find proper shelter.

They eventually came upon one of the villages they'd originally set out to protect. Not too many people were out in the snow, but a few were.

"I am King Arthur," Arthur announced. "The bandits that have been raiding the northern villages have been dealt with. I have wounded, if anyone would be willing to grant us shelter."

There was a beat of silence as the peasants exchanged looks among themselves. Of course, as king, Arthur could simply demand shelter and anything else he pleased, but he didn't.

One of the villagers finally stepped forward. "I have room in my home for your wounded," he said. He glanced at his neighbors, who took the cue and nodded their consent as well, since there were many knights among the troop.

Percival carried Lancelot into the first man's home, followed by Merlin and Arthur.

"We do not have much," the man said apologetically.

"Just hot water and blankets would be enough, thank you," Merlin told him.

Percival laid Lancelot on the floor in front of the hearth and Merlin peeled back his soiled neckerchief, stiff with blood from Lancelot's wound finally bleeding. Merlin chose to take that as a good sign, and he quickly set to properly treating the injury that he'd regrettably had to make worse. Lancelot's flesh was still far too cold to stitch, so Merlin cleaned the wound and then packed it with fresh bandages. Their host brought out several furs, and they bundled Lancelot in all of them and laid him across the length of the fireplace.

"I'll start a cooking fire outside," the villager's wife said.

"Oh, sorry," Merlin replied.

She waved him off. "He needs the heat. And I'm afraid the harvest has been scarce after the raids, but there should be enough for a meager serving to go around."

Arthur shook his head. "Thank you, but the shelter and monopolizing your fireplace are more than enough." He paused. "Although, if you could set some aside for Sir Lancelot when he wakes, I would be grateful."

"It's we who are grateful, Your Highness," she responded. "For ridding us of those bandits. We would not have survived the winter if they continued their reign of terror."

"They will definitely not be back," Arthur said darkly.

Their hosts exited the house, and Arthur left to check on everyone else, make sure they were settled in for the coming evening. He returned in time to partake of supper, which was small as they had been warned but warm and very welcome after the day they'd had. A larger serving was set aside in a tin cup next to the hearth to keep warm for Lancelot.

"I still don't understand what those creatures wanted," Percival commented as twilight gave way to night outside.

"Apparently the Fae Queen needed to steal a mortal to be her new king," Merlin answered. "I suspect she had her warriors raiding villages so the kings of the land would send their knights and she could take one of them." He dropped his gaze to Lancelot. "She almost succeeded, too."

"How is he?" Arthur asked.

Merlin leaned over and peeked under the mounds of furs, then rocked back with a sigh of relief. "His color is returning to normal."

It looked like removing the shard had been enough to reverse the transformation process it had started. It was also a miracle Lancelot hadn't ended up with any frostbite, having been in nothing but his tunic and trousers in that ice cave, but the fae's magical shard must have warded that off. Small favors.

They all began to bed down for the night, and Merlin waited until he was sure the others had fallen asleep before he moved close to Lancelot and whispered a spell to infuse warmth into his still chilled body. Lancelot shifted slightly, curling further into the blankets. Merlin rested a hand on his forehead and smiled; he didn't feel like ice anymore.

He then lay down to get some sleep himself.


Lancelot woke to the uncomfortable feeling of heavy blankets pressing down on him, but he was warm, and that superseded any other thought or worry he might have had in the moment. He drifted for a while until wakefulness morphed his vague awareness into something more solid. He turned his head against the soft feel of fur.

"Lancelot?"

He prized his eyes open groggily. A blurred smudge slowly transformed into Merlin smiling down at him.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

Lancelot didn't really know how to answer that. "Tired. Heavy." He tried to lift his head and look around. "Where are we?"

"One of the villages took us in after Arthur and the knights defeated the fae. Do you remember what happened?"

Lancelot frowned as he tried to parse through muddy memories. "I think I got hit with an arrow?"

Merlin nodded. "A shard was left embedded in your shoulder and was slowly poisoning you, basically freezing you from the inside." Merlin paused. "Do you remember that?"

Lancelot knitted his brows together in concentration. "I remember feeling cold so deep it felt like there was nothing else in the world." His eyes widened in alarm. "You removed the shard?"

Merlin placed a hand on his head. "We did. You're going to be fine. Just don't try to move too much. Your shoulder's pretty beat up."

"Mm…" Lancelot couldn't really feel that at the moment, and exhaustion was pulling him under again. Merlin's palm was warm against the crown of his head, and Lancelot drifted back to sleep knowing he was secure under a warlock's watchful eye.


Lancelot had woken briefly that morning, and later that afternoon Arthur and Percival headed outside, leaving just Merlin alone with his patient. Until Gwaine let himself in.

"Arthur's sending most of the knights back to Camelot," he said. "The rest of us will wait until Lancelot is ready to travel."

Merlin nodded; he'd known that was the plan.

Gwaine looked around as though to make sure they were alone.

"You probably have questions," Merlin said.

Gwaine came over and sat on the floor across from him. "My main one is why on earth you're living in Camelot where being a sorcerer will get you executed."

"Camelot is my home and Arthur is my friend," he replied. "Serving him is just as important to me as who I am."

Gwaine shook his head in disbelief.

Merlin waited for several beats. "Don't you have anything else you want to know?"

Gwaine just shrugged. "Not really. Though, now that I think about it, you've used magic to save us before, haven't you?"

Merlin quirked a sly smile at him. "Yes, loads of times. I can tell you about them."

"Maybe later when we have a bit more privacy."

Merlin looked toward Lancelot, who was shivering slightly under the mounds of furs. "Lancelot knows about me," he said, then leaned over and cast another warming spell. Lancelot's shivering ceased and he settled into a more restful sleep.

Gwaine's jaw worked for a moment. "You told him?"

"No, he caught me using it during one of those instances where I saved the day," Merlin replied with a cheeky smile.

Gwaine, however, looked thoughtful. "Who else knows?"

"Gaius, but that's it. And you now." Merlin hesitated. "So…you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"A sorcerer living under your nose. We're supposed to be evil," Merlin said with a touch of bitterness.

"There's not an evil bone in your body, Merlin." Gwaine shook his head. "Can't say I know much about magic, and what I've seen thus far hasn't exactly been in its favor. But I know you. I trust you. And we wouldn't have gotten out of that cave without it. So, it's a good thing you're a sorcerer, is how I see it."

"Arthur still would have shown up to rescue us," Merlin pointed out.

"Yeah, but we can't know if he would have made it in time, if he would have found us in that cell first and the Queen would have gotten away with Lancelot."

"I suppose that's true," Merlin conceded. He smiled. "I am glad you know now."

Gwaine smiled back, and then their conversation was put to an end as the door opened and Arthur entered. Merlin was content, though. Gwaine was a true friend, just like Lancelot, and Merlin was lucky to have them.


The journey back to Camelot was strenuous for Lancelot, as the cold had a way of repeatedly burrowing into his marrow, despite Merlin's assurances that the fae poison was gone. Merlin stuck close by his side and frequently cast a warming spell under his breath, which Lancelot was grateful for but he also thought Merlin was pushing it with the other knights so close by.

When they finally arrived at the city, Arthur instructed Merlin to get Lancelot to Gaius, which Merlin was all too happy to do. Gwaine came with them, helping to support Lancelot since he was flagging, and he was grateful to finally be able to sit down once they were inside Gaius's chambers.

Merlin quickly stoked up the fire and then fetched all the blankets from his room while Gaius examined Lancelot's shoulder and Gwaine recounted what had happened. Lancelot hadn't heard the full version before now, and he was horrified by what had almost transpired. He was somewhat glad he couldn't remember it, though merely hearing the tale elicited an extra chill down his spine.

Gaius seemed to notice and took pity on him, helping him back into his shirt. "You did well treating the wound, Merlin," he praised. "I'll make up some tea for the pain."

Lancelot nodded mutely, and Merlin wrapped him in blankets and fluffed up some pillows at the head of the cot so Lancelot could recline against them. He then went to help Gaius, and Gwaine took a seat on the small stool next to the patient bed.

"I'm in the know now," he said quietly, leaning forward. "About Merlin."

Lancelot frowned and flicked a look at their mutual friend.

"I just wanted you to know you have an ally in keeping him safe," Gwaine went on, giving Lancelot a meaningful look.

His eyes widened as he realized what Gwaine was getting at, and he felt a brief flash of alarm before Gwaine's statement registered. He then relaxed against the pillows and smiled. "He does need a lot of looking after," he replied.

"I heard that." Merlin made his way back over. "And frankly I'm the one who needs help keeping you two out of trouble. Case in point: Lancelot almost got turned into a Fae Queen's consort and spirited off to the Unseelie Court."

Lancelot grimaced at the reminder.

Gwaine straightened his shoulders. "I never get into trouble."

Merlin scoffed. "You walk up to trouble and punch it in the face."

Gwaine grinned. "You know what, you should start joining me at the taverns. Imagine the mayhem we could get into."

"Again, case in point!" Merlin retorted. "You don't need me to get into mayhem. And no thank you. Arthur already thinks I spend too much time at the tavern. Besides, my magic is a secret, remember?"

"Not at the rate you're going," Gaius interjected.

"Two people in eight years."

Lancelot closed his eyes and basked in the banter of his friends, which warmed his heart but unfortunately not the rest of him, and he shivered under that relentless chill again.

Merlin's rant cut off, and the next thing he said was softer and directed toward Lancelot. "Cold again?"

Lancelot opened his eyes and grimaced. "A little."

He didn't even have to ask; Merlin stretched out his hand and cast that familiar spell, suffusing warmth through Lancelot's muscles and banishing the chill. His eyes slid closed again as his body relaxed.

"Thank you."

"Always," Merlin replied, a smile in his voice.

Then Gwaine broke the moment and asked,

"Hey, can you magically make an unlimited supply of ale?"