Arthur stumbled along beside Merlin, the reassuring presence of Merlin's arm keeping him upright and grounding him in the present. His arm was throbbing, he was exhausted, starving, and in pain, and all he wanted to do was lie down. But their plan had worked, and now they needed to get out of the pyramid and get back to Camelot. Then, Arthur could lie down for as long as he wanted.
Just not yet. Arthur blinked away the blackness that was encroaching on his vision and continued along the tunnel, concentrating on one step at a time. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally staggered to a stop in front of what looked like a stone door. Arthur focused on keeping his head from falling onto Merlin's shoulder as two of his knights stepped forward and managed to heave the door open.
Merlin moved forward, Arthur stumbling along beside him. Moonlight illuminated their surroundings, picking out houses, sheds, and fields. A typical town.
Still, something seemed to be bothering Merlin. "Oh no," he whispered.
"What?" Arthur asked. He hoped that Merlin would be able to understand him. Arthur's tongue felt numb and heavy, the words difficult to get out.
"I took the wrong turn," Merlin muttered. "We were supposed to end up in the forest, but we're in the middle of the village. Everyone who lives around the pyramid worships Solaris, we talked about this…."
Now that Merlin mentioned it, Arthur did vaguely remember the conversation they'd had in the cell. But it was hard to keep track of that now, with how foggy his thoughts were becoming.
"This isn't good," Merlin whispered. "We have to be really quiet and try to get through town without anyone noticing."
Arthur nodded. Even if he wasn't entirely sure he understood the content of what Merlin was saying, he could tell by Merlin's tone of voice that it was urgent.
Arthur's knights followed them out of the tunnel, all gathering silently around Merlin and Arthur. Merlin spoke some whispered words to the knights, and Arthur tried very hard to pay attention but mostly just got that they needed to be quiet and not wake any of the villagers up. Arthur didn't think that would be too difficult, at least not for him. He could barely speak, and he didn't think his footsteps could be making much noise if his entire body was floating.
Merlin stepped forward. Arthur stepped forward with him. Except his legs seemed to have frozen up from standing still for too long, and immediately gave way beneath him. Merlin inhaled sharply as Arthur's entire weight dropped against him, but somehow he managed to keep from saying anything or actually letting Arthur fall to the ground. Arthur felt Merlin's hands at his waist and shoulder, adjusting him so he lay more securely against Merlin's side. Slowly, Arthur's trembling legs agreed to take his weight again, and he managed a small step so he was even with Merlin.
"Can you walk?" Merlin whispered, his voice barely audible and his lips so close to Arthur's ear that Arthur could feel the faint warmth of his breath.
Arthur considered. His knees were still shaking badly enough that he was quite afraid of falling again. Rationally, he knew that the ground under his feet wasn't moving, but it somehow felt like the world was tilting horribly around him, almost like he was on a boat. His head was throbbing, he was sick to his stomach, and even though Merlin seemed comfortable in nothing but a ragged shirt, Arthur was so cold it was all he could do not to bury himself in Merlin's side to try to ease the shaking.
But he didn't think they had a lot of options. His knights were weak, hungry, and battered, they could not be spared to carry him. And besides, if it came to a fight he wanted all his men ready for action, including himself. So he nodded to Merlin, and forced his feet forward another few steps. He simply didn't have another choice.
He worked very hard to keep his head held up, at the very least. He didn't want his men to have to follow a prince who was semi-conscious and unable to stand. He couldn't stop trembling, he could barely keep his eyes open, and he was so dizzy he could barely tell which way was up. But that wasn't what he wanted his men to see when they looked at him. That wouldn't give them the confidence they would need to escape. So he kept his head up, and tried to look like someone who could lead, and hoped that that would be enough.
They trudged along for another ten minutes or so, Arthur's legs feeling weaker with every step. But he forced himself to keep going, reminding himself that every inch brought him and his men closer to freedom.
The woods were close now. Just a few fields and a hill lay between them and the cover the trees offered. All they had to do was make it to the forest, and they'd be able to slip back to Camelot.
And then there was a shout from back the way they had come, and Arthur whirled around. Once he had blinked the spots away from his eyes, he saw the bird-masked men rushing towards their ragtag band. Townspeople were joining the crush, leaving their houses brandishing rakes and scythes and picks and shovels. They'd been spotted.
Arthur glanced back at the woods. They were still much too far away to make it. Men from the farthest houses were running towards the woods now, cutting them off from their goal. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but make a stand.
Arthur turned back to the approaching mob and pulled away from Merlin. He staggered, almost fell, but managed to straighten. Merlin looked at him with dismay and reached towards him, but Arthur shook his head.
"It's time to fight," he said softly, hoping Merlin would understand. Now, more than ever, his men needed to look at him and see a leader. And besides, if Arthur had to die, he wanted to do it on his own two feet, sword in hand.
Merlin gave him an understanding nod and dropped his hands, staying close nonetheless. Arthur knew that was probably the best he was going to get.
"Form a circle!" Arthur shouted, as loudly as he could. The effort nearly left him gasping, but he carried on. "Show them what it means to make an enemy of a Knight of Camelot!"
His knights grouped around him, and Arthur pushed himself to the front. Leon passed him a sword, and Merlin hovered slightly behind him on his right side. Arthur clutched the sword tightly in his left hand, fingers trembling. His right arm hung useless at his side, throbbing with every pulse of his heartbeat.
Arthur closed his eyes and breathed, in and out, in and out. He concentrated every ounce of willpower on his hand, on stilling his fingers. Slowly, the tremor ceased. Arthur opened his eyes again and looked at the approaching army, meters away and closing fast. He raised the sword.
"FOR CAMELOT!"
Merlin had started out determined to get all the knights through the village unseen. Then they had heard the shout, and he knew his priorities would have to change. He had hoped to get all the knights through the battle, even though they were weak and malnourished and only half of them seemed to be armed.
Then he had seen how many men were coming towards them, waving far better weapons than the knights had managed to scrounge up, looking like perfect pictures of health, and Merlin knew his priorities were about to have to change yet again.
Now, as horrible as it was, Merlin had one goal and one goal only. He was going to get Arthur through the battle alive, and make sure he had some way to get back to Camelot. Nothing else mattered.
Merlin's only weapon was his magic. This wasn't a problem, or even really a surprise. Leon clearly hadn't considered him a priority when handing out swords, which certainly made sense. But Merlin was worried he wasn't going to be able to protect Arthur without magic, and while relying on the Prince's current distraction was one plan, he wasn't sure it was really going to work.
He supposed it didn't really matter anymore. At this point, he was going to protect Arthur or die trying, and he wasn't going to hold back if it really came down to it.
Arthur looked terrible still, face pale and eyes sunken, teeth chattering slightly with a chill only he could feel. But holding a sword seemed to have revived him some. He didn't look well, but somehow, he still looked ready to fight. Even though his right hand was tucked against his stomach and he was holding the sword in his left, even though he was skinny from long weeks without food, covered in grime and blood, he looked like a king. More than he had in weeks. Merlin couldn't help but believe in him.
And then, the villagers arrived with a clash of metal, and things started to go downhill very fast.
Merlin wasn't a fighter, and even with the amount of time he spent with Arthur and the knights, he didn't know the first thing about battle. All he saw during a fight were lots of swords and large men hacking at each other, a confusing chaos that he was never going to understand.
But even as inexperienced as he was, he could tell that the knights were losing. There were just too many villagers. The knights may have been far more experienced, but they were exhausted and injured, and for every villager that fell there were two more to take his place.
Merlin watched in horror as their circle got smaller and smaller. He muttered spells when he could, but his magic wasn't enough either. Arthur fought on grimly, his pale face set. Merlin closed his eyes, gathering his strength and preparing for one final spell. If it exposed him, so be it.
"What was that?!" said a voice right beside his ear. Merlin frowned, opening his eyes, his concentration broken. Then, there was a high, clear note sounding from somewhere behind him.
"There it is again," the knight said urgently, and Merlin turned just in time to see a line of horses break from the forest and sweep down the hill toward them. Villagers scattered before the horses' hooves and the swords of the knights who rode them. Merlin stared in awe at their unexpected salvation. The horn blew again, and Merlin looked toward the source and saw Uther himself, dressed in full battle armor and riding towards them at breakneck speed.
"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, and Arthur turned and saw the knights and his face broke into the smile that Merlin had been missing for weeks.
"Come on, men!" Arthur bellowed, beginning to fight with renewed vigor. "Your King is here!"
The tide of the battle turned fairly quickly after that. Uther and the knights rode down as many villagers as they could, then dismounted their horses and dispatched the rest on foot. Merlin caught sight of Arthur fighting side by side with his father, looking more alive now, starved and bloody and dirty, than he usually did in Camelot.
And then it was over. The remaining worshippers of Solaris dropped their weapons and knelt in surrender. Arthur was safe.
"Arthur," Uther said, sheathing his sword and turning towards his son. Merlin stepped closer, seeing what was about to come, just a shade too late to prevent it.
"Father," Arthur managed, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell heavily into Merlin's waiting arms. Merlin lowered him carefully to the ground, checking him over for any new wounds as Uther knelt beside his son.
"What happened to him?" Uther asked urgently, reaching out one gloved hand and hesitantly touching Arthur's forehead.
Merlin finished the examination and realized with no small amount of relief that Arthur hadn't sustained any serious new injuries in the battle. He'd probably just collapsed from a combination of blood loss and exhaustion. The wound on his arm was bleeding freely now, but it looked as if it had perhaps started to clot prior to the battle and then had been reopened by all the movement. Merlin was worried by the grey pallor of Arthur's face and the dark circles beneath his eyes, but he didn't think the prince was on death's door, not now that they could get him help. They just needed to bring him back to Camelot, and make sure that he got plenty of fluids and rest.
"What's wrong with him?" Uther asked again, more sharply this time. Merlin flinched. He genuinely hadn't meant to keep the king of Camelot waiting, he'd just gotten distracted making sure Arthur was alright.
"He was just...he was injured before the fighting started. Look." Merlin very gently peeled Arthur's arm away from his chest, where he was cradling it involuntarily. Arthur groaned slightly at the movement, though his eyes didn't open, so Merlin carefully rested a hand on his good shoulder as he flipped Arthur's arm over to show Uther the wound.
Merlin really hadn't gotten a good look at the cut himself, not with all the running and fighting they'd been doing, and he was dismayed to see how bad it looked. Arthur must have squirmed as they were doing it, because it was less of a slice and more of a jagged tear. Even with Gaius's handiwork, Merlin knew that it would scar, and no matter how much Arthur fought him on it, he would not be using that arm at all for a few weeks at least. All in all though, Merlin supposed it could have been worse. And at least it was just one arm that had been injured so badly, not both.
But Uther sucked in a sharp breath. "They did this to him?" he said furiously, looking around as if hoping more men would appear who he could kill.
Something in Uther's tone got through to Arthur, even in his mostly unconscious state. He stirred slightly, moaning, eyelids fluttering as he struggled to process. He murmured something that was probably supposed to be a word, even though it just sounded like "mmmf." The fingers on his good hand convulsively opened and closed, like he was searching for something.
"Hey," Merlin whispered. He didn't want Arthur to overexert himself, not when they still had the long ride back to Camelot. He pushed Arthur's dirty bangs back from his face, keeping his tone of voice soothing since he didn't think Arthur could understand the words. "Shhh. It's alright. Don't worry, Arthur. Just rest."
Arthur murmured again and subsided, closing his eyes and relaxing back into Merlin's hand. Merlin shot a look up at Uther, suddenly afraid that he was overstepping his bounds again. Merlin was never quite sure how Uther was going to react in situations like these, when he was worried about his son and was presumably unsure how to show it.
But Uther wasn't even looking at Merlin. He was looking down at Arthur again. He squeezed Arthur's good shoulder once, then glanced back at Merlin.
"We need to get him back to Camelot at once," Uther said flatly, but his hand stayed on Arthur's shoulder. "Do you know what exactly is wrong with him?"
"I think it's mostly blood loss," Merlin volunteered. "They weren't feeding us barely anything, either. He had a pretty bad concussion at first, but that got better…. I don't think there's anything else, I was with him most of the time. I think he'll be fine."
Uther nodded, hesitantly at first, then with more certainty. "Can you ride?" he asked.
"Yes," Merlin said, with slightly more conviction than he felt.
"Good," Uther said. "Take Arthur. He clearly can't sit a horse right now, but we don't have another choice. He needs to get to Gaius as soon as possible."
Merlin nodded, somewhat overwhelmed. He'd expected Uther to want Arthur as close to him as possible on the ride back to Camelot. His willingness to let Merlin ride with him showed a level of trust that Merlin hadn't realized he'd earned. Merlin supposed that this was the only thanks he was likely to get from Uther for saving Arthur's life (again), but it was all the thanks he needed.
Transferring Arthur to the horse's back proved to be fairly difficult, as Arthur didn't manage to wake and help at all. Eventually, Uther had to lift his son into his arms and hand him off to Merlin, who was waiting in the saddle. Arthur moaned softly, his head falling back against Merlin's shoulder. Merlin locked one arm around Arthur's chest, holding him steady.
"It's alright," Merlin told him quietly. "You're safe now."
Arthur turned over in bed and immediately shot awake, hissing in pain. This had to be the fifth time that night. It had been almost a week since he, Merlin, and his knights had made it back to Camelot, and although the wound on his arm was much better, it was nowhere near being healed. Gaius had stitched it up, and now the bandages wound around it kept the whole thing looking neat and manageable. He'd never even know it was there if it weren't for the blinding pain that seemed to shoot through him every time he moved.
"Sire?" Merlin asked, and Arthur could hear him fumbling towards the bed in the darkness. There was a muffled curse as he tripped on something, and if Arthur had been in less pain he would have laughed. Merlin was clumsy on the best of days, and his strength still hadn't quite returned after their long imprisonment.
"Do you need something? Is it your arm again…?"
"It's fine, Merlin. Go back to sleep."
Merlin had insisted on sleeping in Arthur's room while he healed. This wasn't the arrangement that Arthur would have chosen, because it resulted in Merlin jolting awake every hour, pretty much every time Arthur rolled over and woke himself up. However, he supposed he was grateful for his servant, and from the sound of it he had really needed Merlin the first few days, when he'd been too weak and exhausted to keep his eyes open for more than a second or two, let alone feed himself or redress his arm.
"You're in pain…." Merlin was at his side now, peering down at Arthur in the darkness. "I can go back to Gaius, see if he can make you something else, you're never going to heal if you can't even get any rest-"
"I'm alright," Arthur said, although in truth his arm was still throbbing. "I'm alright, I'll just...go back to sleep now…."
"But I can tell that it hurts…."
Merlin sounded almost dismayed that Arthur wasn't letting him help, and Arthur felt his heart soften towards his servant. Merlin truly just wanted to make Arthur feel better, and he was doing more than Arthur could ever possibly ask of or expect from another servant.
"Merlin," Arthur said softly. "I'm not sure that I ever said thank you."
Merlin shifted from foot to foot. "What?"
"You saved my life. Many times. And I…." Arthur had started off with a clear path in mind, but now he was finding himself rather tongue-tied, and it was making him panicky. He had just wanted to express how much Merlin meant to him, and now he felt that his awkward silence was turning it into a bigger...thing than he'd meant for it to be.
Merlin was still standing there, staring at him expectantly.
"I'm grateful. And I don't know what I would do without you," Arthur finally finished, all in a rush.
Even in the darkness, Arthur could make out Merlin's small smile. But all he said was, "Do you need anything for the pain, sire?"
"If I was in pain, could I do this?" Arthur asked. He lifted his good arm and punched Merlin softly in the shoulder. Sure enough, it caused pain to shoot through his entire body.
But it made Merlin laugh, and that was enough.