The sky looked as if it had been stained with a deep shade of scarlet as the sun slipped away. Arthur normally would've found it beautiful, but the red reminded him too much of the blood that still covered the still form that was leaning against his chest. Merlin had spent the entire ride in a fitful sleep, mumbling incoherently and twitching quite a bit. It made Arthur hold him tighter.

They stopped to set up camp when the sky morphed into a dark purple. As the knights bustled about, Arthur carefully lowered Merlin from his mare and settled him on a bedroll near where Elyan was setting up the fire. Arthur could feel Merlin shaking, but he wasn't sure if it was from all the blood loss, the cold, or both. The king wrapped his servant in his cloak, just to be sure.

Arthur hovered, unsure of what to do with himself now that he finally had Merlin back. Though Arthur was pretty sure the creature had been killed, he had no idea what that meant for Merlin. Would there be after effects? And Camelot was still a few days' ride away. What if Merlin had lost too much blood and didn't make it?

The fire suddenly flared up, lighting up the small clearing. The flames crackled merrily, mixing with the light chatter of the knights as they moved about. It should have been pleasant. But there was a certain voice, the cheeriest of them all, that had been missing for a long time. Arthur prayed that it wouldn't be lost forever.

The orange glow from the fire lit up Merlin's face as he slept, making the slight frown on his face more defined. Arthur couldn't tell the difference between dried blood and dirt in the low light and he grimaced. He wondered what it must've been like, being held captive for many days while his life-force was slowly sucked out of him. It was a damn miracle Merlin was still breathing at all.

Arthur tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but he relaxed when he registered Leon's kind face leaning over him.

"You need to eat, sire," the knight said, handing Arthur a bowl of stew.

Arthur took it gratefully, though he didn't have much of an appetite. He set it on the ground next to him.

"Do you think he'll wake soon?" Arthur asked, though he knew the knight knew just as much as he did.

"He'll probably sleep until morning. He's been through quite an ordeal."

Arthur nodded, his gaze returning to Merlin, who shifted slightly towards the warmth of the fire in his restless sleep.

"I think I should try and clean some of his wounds," Leon suggested after a moment of pensive silence. "I don't think he has an infection, but we shouldn't push our luck."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Leon."

Arthur knew that Leon was the most experienced in the healing arts out of all of them, after Merlin, of course. Besides, the sooner all that blood was washed away, the better.

Arthur fell into a sort of lull as he watched the older knight gently clean most of the blood and grime away from Merlin's face. At some point, Gwaine had planted himself down next to Arthur, his concern for Merlin evident in his watchful eye. In fact, Arthur sensed tension in the entire camp. The rest of the knights tried to keep busy, but their attention was on the servant as well. And how could it not? Merlin was an enigma that you couldn't help but like. He was annoyingly endearing. Arthur knew that each of his men had taken it upon themselves to quietly watch after Merlin and protect him from harm. It was sorf of an unspoken rule between the king and his knights. Arthur felt the crushing weight of his own guilt for letting Merlin get taken, and he knew his men all felt the same way. They all felt as if they had failed him.

But Arthur most of all.

Leon grimaced as he began to clean away the blood on Merlin's neck. The gaping holes on the side of his neck, now exposed with the layers of dried blood gone, indicated only one horrible truth. As Leon dressed the wound, Merlin started to pull away. Arthur frowned, inching closer so that he could hold Merlin still so Leon could finish. Merlin flinched at his touch, pushing against Arthur with his arms.

"No… no, you're not her," Merlin whispered brokenly.

Arthur shushed him. Gods, Merlin looked so young and vulnerable lying there like that.

"Stop. Don't—don't touch me," Merlin all but begged, but he had stopped fighting against them, as if he had simply lost all of his energy.

"Merlin, you're safe now, mate," Gwaine said gently. Arthur had never heard the man speak so softly in his life.

Leon had finally finished, giving both Gwaine and Arthur a nod as he moved away. Merlin had gone quiet again, but he still tossed his head from side to side with a frown. He looked anything but restful.

Percival offered to take first watch so everyone else could catch up on sleep. No matter how hard he tried though, Arthur didn't sleep a wink.

…...

Merlin still hadn't woken. They had travelled for hours on horseback in broad daylight, and he didn't even stir. Arthur hated the unnatural stillness and the silence that screamed at him that his friend was barely clinging to life. The king unconsciously pulled Merlin closer on the saddle, wincing at the fever he felt on the boy's skin. Despite their best efforts, Merlin had likely gotten an infection.

When Camelot finally came into view, Arthur breathed a loud, shameless sigh of relief. Everything about their trip home had been quiet torture. But now there was hope for Merlin. They were home.