Part 3, just in time for the new year! Again, I cannot thank you guys enough for the lovely comments you've given me on my first fic. It's definitely motivated me to write something worthy of your time. There will be a Part 4, and it will be an epilogue of sorts, most likely dealing with Merlin recovering and Arthur getting a glimpse at what Merlin's duties are like. It shall be very fluffy! This chapter was a very fun character study for me. I borrowed the I Never scene directly out of an episode of Lost called Outlaws (I'm a Lost fiend!). Even if you don't watch Lost, please, for all that is good and merciful, go and watch that scene! I know "I Never" probably isn't a very historically accurate game for Merlin and Arthur to play, but too many delicious scenes on television have come from characters playing that game (The Walking Dead, anyone?) I just could not resist. Please continue to leave feedback! I love to hear from you guys. Cheers!

Also, bone infection is in fact real. I looked it up! It's called Osteomyelitis...

I do not own Merlin.

They had been traveling for what felt like an eternity, but in all actuality it couldn't have been more than an hour. The problem was that Merlin kept losing little pockets of time.

Arthur had hoisted Merlin to his feet, preparing to toss him over his shoulders and carry him like a damn sack of potatoes, but Merlin had insisted he could walk. Arthur had given him this look like he was a madman before rolling his eyes deeply.

"You have seen the state of your leg, haven't you Merlin? You're not exactly in the best shape of your life at the moment," Arthur condescended, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and head cocked to the side. "Not to mention you look like you've been at the slow gin again, from the way your eyes keep crossing and all."

"Just...just help me up. I can walk. Promise," it had already been a day of humiliation for Merlin. What had begun as an attempt to prove his strength to the king in the face of danger had ultimately become just the opposite. All he had left was his murderous wit, and even that was slipping away. If only he wasn't so goddam sleepy. If the king had thought him weak before...

"Honestly, I'm quite alright," Merlin begged, clinging to his last shred of dignity.

"Now's not the time for jokes, Merlin," Arthur replied nonchalantly, heaving the boy up and over his shoulder as if he weighed no more than a sack of feathers, careful to avoid jolting his decrepit leg. Merlin didn't bother to tell him the limb had long since gone numb.

"Arthur, please, leave me. 'S not worth it," he gasped, nausea roiling in his stomach as the king began making his way towards the forest, bouncing Merlin's head gently against his back as they went.

"Sure, Merlin. You're wish is my command." Merlin groaned in annoyance. Why did Arthur always have to insist on being such a prat?

It wasn't until they reached the outer edge of the forest that Merlin began to admit to himself that something was really off. Sure, he had a broken leg. And yes, his head felt like someone was slowly and rhythmically injecting scalding hot water into his brain through the base of his neck, but there was something else...

It was as if he was rotting from the inside out, a creeping, disturbing feeling of maggots crawling right beneath the surface of his heated skin. A single word kept thumping over and over again in his sluggish mind.

Infection.

Merlin had only seen a number of patients in Gaius' chambers with what his mentor had referred to as 'bone infection' before. It was rare, but he knew it was possible, especially with a severe break like Merlin's. The stiffness in his leg was a telltale sign in itself, but it was when he had first felt the chills begin to wrack his body while a dry heat creeped into his cheeks that Merlin recognized this for what it was. And it was dangerous. Hell, if it was an infection, magic might not even be able to save him. He would be too weak...If experience was anything to go off of, the situation was going to become ugly, and this was not how Merlin wanted Arthur to see him die.

Before he could muster the strength to warn Arthur that they needed to get to Gaius now, Merlin felt his body curl in on itself. Hanging upside down from Arthur's shoulder, a wave of illness washed over his helpless frame. Pain erupted behind his eyes, and the sound of his blood ran hot in his ears, making it hard to concentrate on anything besides his own utter discomfort. Still, he rallied all his strength.

"Arthur!" he gasped. "Arthur, you must stop, I'm going to be-"

Vomit once again erupted from Merlin's mouth, spraying the ground beneath him. It was dark by now, but Merlin was still able to recognize the dark patches in his own sick. Blood. Convulsions wracked his feeble form, but Merlin still barely managed to hear Arthur shout his name in surprise before his vision collapsed, and his body fell limp against Arthur's back.

Even Arthur could admit that the yelp he had heard himself emit had been rather girlish. He couldn't help it, though. Merlin was scaring the hell out of him.

They had finally reached the edge of the forest. Only a couple of hours, and they would be out of the woods and on a direct route back towards the grounds of the tournament, where hopefully Gaius would be stationed and this whole mess could be resolved. Of course, nothing could ever be that simple. At least not when Merlin was involved.

He had heard the sputtered cry from his manservant, but it had happened so quickly that he hadn't had time to get him off of his back before he had gotten sick all over the ground behind him. At this point they had already travelled about 500 meters into the woods, arriving at a small clearing at the base of a cluster of trees. When he had felt that the boy had gone limp against his back, Arthur quickly shifted into what Merlin liked to call "Prince Arthur Mode". Even though Arthur was technically now the king, Merlin still preferred to mock him with the fact that he apparently only had two behaviors, the aforementioned and, much to his annoyance, "Prat Mode".

Arthur gently lowered Merlin down, trying to make him as comfortable as possible on the cold, hard ground. Arthur had already torn up his cloak to patch Merlin's head and leg, so he was unable to cover the unconscious man with any sort of warmth. Luckily, the armor they were both wearing was thickly padded and would prevent either of the from growing too cold. Still, night had fallen, and despite the clear sky there was no moon to help the king see. He quickly gathered up the materials to start a small fire. He was able to do so swiftly, seeing as all the wood surrounding them was dry and fresh from the bitter air.

Once the fire began to roar steadily, Arthur was able to move Merlin closer to it and get a better look at the state he was in.

Arthur's face grew solemn as he noticed beads of sweat had formed on the young man's pale, greenish-grey face, despite the biting cold. He reached out and placed the back of his hand on the forehead of his sleeping friend, ghastly white in the glow of the fire. He watched as Merlin unconsciously moved towards the source of the cool touch. Arthur, however, instinctively withdrew his hand, frowning in confusion at the feverish heat that had radiated from the skin.

"You really do like to put on a show, don't you?" Arthur murmured, watching as Merlin shifted with discomfort, groaning lightly. Once again, Arthur allowed guilt to roll over him like a wave, wracking his bones and twisting his gut.

Arthur was frustrated. He didn't know what to do. He had never been trained for something like this, and that alone was enough to make him loathe every bit of himself. The worst, though, was that he had been the cause of this disastrous situation. He desperately wanted to fix things, but he was terrified of causing more harm to his friend. Panic began to surge through his body, but he forced himself to breathe deeply and clear his thoughts.

He didn't know why Merlin had become so ill all of a sudden. He had dealt with both concussions and broken legs, and he knew neither of them to cause whatever was plaguing Merlin. He did know that he needed to get him awake, though. Gaius had told him that much was important when dealing with victims of a nasty head injury. Plus, Arthur figured that if he could get Merlin lucid enough, he might be able to tell him what was to be done. He was better at that stuff than him. Making up his mind, Arthur grabbed his waterskin. The liquid inside had grown icy cold in the weather, and Arthur grinned slightly as he prepared to pour some of it over his manservant's face. Oh, Merlin was going to love him for this.

There was no immediate reaction from the manservant as the water connected with his face, but Arthur waited patiently as his lids parted and the cobalt eyes slowly focused.

"Merlin?" he coaxed softly, scanning his face for signs of recognition.

Merlin finally rolled his eyes up towards Arthur's face, and his expression turned to one of utter grumpiness.

"Could somebody please tell me what I've done to deserve waking up to your face and ice cold water twice in one day?" he croaked, voice cracking.

Arthur chuckled, a bit of relief easing his pounding pulse. At least he was lucid.

"Sorry. Need you to stay awake, though. Even your thick skull can't recover that quickly, despite it being filled with hot air," Arthur chided, before clearing his throat. "The truth is I could use your help. I-I'm not really sure what to do, Merlin. You're burning up, and I just, I don't have the experience you do with this," he finished shakily, scratching at the back of his neck nervously.

"The great Arthur, asking his lowly idiot manservant for help? Never thought I'd see the day," Merlin said slowly, attempting to rise onto his elbows before being gruffly pushed back down by Arthur. He couldn't resist the chance at some barbed insolence, and he was avoiding the answer to Arthur's question.

"Come on now, Merlin," Arthur said sternly.

There was an uncomfortable silence, filled in only by the sound of Merlin's ragged breath and the crackle of leaves as Arthur shifted where he sat.

"Erm, well, it's possible I have...a bone infection," Merlin confessed. "If my leg has swollen or gotten red, I definitely do."

Arthur swallowed loudly. Infection. Such an awful word. "I already checked. It doesn't look good, Merlin."

Another long silence followed, and Arthur began to worry Merlin had drifted back to sleep when he spoke abruptly.

"So much for my lousy day off." At this point, neither could help it. They both began to laugh, clinging to the moment of joy before Arthur clapped his hands together.

"Alright. Here's what we're going to do. There's no point in trying to find our way back to Camelot tonight. It's too damn dark, and we'll just end up going in circles, especially if I'm lugging your scrawny body around. Dawn is only a few hours away, and hopefully by that time there will be a search party or something around looking for us. Got it?" All Arthur got was a yawn in return.

Merlin was beginning to slip again, his gangly limbs shaking as chills forced their way down his long body.

"Hey, hey, come now. A few hours, that's all you'll have to wait," Arthur soothed, trying to coax a bit of water down Merlin's throat before placing a freshly cooled rag across his forehead. Arthur grimaced as Merlin promptly refused the drink.

"Merlin, you have to drink. You'll only grow sicker," Arthur scolded.

Merlin only whimpered in response. Arthur gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to work out a plan. It was like trying to care for a toddler. He was being so stubborn!

"Ok, ok. Here's what we'll do. Since you insist on disobeying the command of your king and acting like a child, I'll just have to treat you so. We're going to play a little game called "I Never", alright?" Arthur proudly proclaimed, impressing himself with his own idea. This would surely keep Merlin awake. For awhile, at least.

"Whassthat?" Merlin slurred, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Oh come on Merlin, you really never played this one before? It's a classic!" Arthur smiled. He used to play it all the time with the older knights back when he was about fourteen and his father had dragged him along on his hunting trips. They used to get a kick out of it.

"How on Earth am I supposed to know what that is?" Merlin whined from his spot on the ground. At least it was taking some of the attention off of the pain.

"Call it a way to get to know each other better. For example, I know you've never been on a hunting trip with any of your mates back in Ealdor when you were a kid." Arthur's eyes gleamed mischievously in the firelight.

"And how do you know that?" Merlin challenged.

"If you had, you'd have heard about "I Never". It's simple, you say "I never" and then you finish the sentence. If it's something you did-" Arthur raised the water skin. "- you drink. If it's something you never did, you don't drink."

"That makes absolutely no sense, prat."

"Learn by example, Merlin. I never...fornicated with a farm animal. Now you drink, 'cause you have. Your turn."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm from a farming village doesn't mean I have intercourse with sheep," he spluttered. Still, he allowed Arthur to press the water skin to his lips and gingerly hold his head up with his hand. He had to admit it felt nice having something cool sliding down his fevered throat.

Once Arthur was satisfied that he had drank enough, Merlin decided to play along.

"I never forced someone to dress me in in the mornings."

Arthur pretended to drink some of the water, secretly saving it for his manservant.

"I never flirted with the King's ward," Arthur said pointedly.

"I didn't do that."

Arthur raised one eyebrow. "Morgana?"

"That was not flirting, Arthur. God, no wonder you're having such a rough time of it seducing Gwen."

"Fine. I never...fell in love."

Merlin remained silent.

"Ah, that's just sad!"

"You haven't either! You just admitted to it," Merlin sassed. He refused to bring up Freya. Merlin had long come to realize that that had been something much more akin to excitement than actual love.

"Yes, but I'm the King. Love is...a much more complicated matter for me," Arthur retaliated.

"And Gwen?" Merlin challenged.

"That's not how the game works, Merlin," Arthur refused to breech that topic with his manservant.

Merlin sighed. "Fine. Whose turn is it?"

"Yours."

"I never...wore a dress. Despite what you may think."

Arthur took another fake swig of water.

"I knew it."

"Hey, you never had to grow up with Morgana! I was basically her pet. She loved dressing me up, and my father never did a thing about it. He always thought it was rather hilarious. Spoiled brat," Arthur cursed, raising his voice in defense. "I never killed a man."

Both men took a turn drinking from the skin silently.

"I never had to learn how to take dancing lessons," Merlin chuckled.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders and fake drank.

"I've never polished anything," Arthur sniggered.

Merlin took another drink, slowly albeit.

"I've never had chocolate?" Merlin was running out of ideas. He was growing groggy.

"You've never had chocolate." Arthur was shocked.

"I'm not drinking, am I?"

Arthur formed an exasperated expression before taking another drink, telling himself to remember to find Merlin some chocolate when they got back to the castle. Maybe he could give it to him while he recovered.

"I've never passed out in the tavern after puking on a barmaid like some sort of village idiot," Arthur taunted, laughing at the memory. Merlin had sported a lovely shiner for a week after that one.

"I'll bet you wish you had," Merlin muttered.

"Bottoms up, sailor."

"I've gotta drink for each time," Merlin grinned sheepishly, causing Arthur to laugh even harder. Once finished, Merlin leveled his gaze at the king. "I never had...relations...with a courtesan before," he said daringly.

"Only once!" Arthur defended himself. He couldn't help but smile fondly at the memory of his 17 year-old self. "What a way to lose it, eh? Lord have mercy, she was something. That green corset she had on...whew." Arthur whistled, cracking himself up.

Merlin made a noise of disgust. "Your turn."

"I've never been a Mother's boy," Arthur leveled.

Merlin managed a small sip, not quite sure what to say.

"And I was never close to my father," he spoke warily, not sure if he had crossed a line.

Arthur, surprisingly, did not drink, opting to stare steadily back at Merlin, challenging him to refute his silent statement.

"I never risked my life, day in and day out, pretending like I had nothing to do with the men and women saved by my hand, only to risk my neck doing something stupid just to prove myself, never even realizing my own worth," Arthur spoke in a low voice. Merlin froze, stunned for a long moment, heart pounding, only to shrug and swallow a large gulp of the water a moment later.

"Yeah? Well I never blamed myself for things that were beyond my control, without even realizing that sometimes it's okay to let people die for you, especially when you're a king worth dying for!" Arthur stood, fists clenched, gazing down at Merlin, mouth drawn into an indiscernible line. Merlin kept going.

"And I never acted like the only reason I kept my lousy manservant around was because he's my friend, when maybe it's more than that. Maybe it's because he's the only other person in this kingdom that just doesn't belong." Merlin was gasping heavily now, cheeks flushed. Arthur walked over slowly to the boy, drinking a bit of the water as he went. He squatted down on his heels next to Merlin's face. The fire was nothing but coals now, and Arthur could just barely make out the outline of Merlin's sweaty mop splayed out on the hard packed dirt.

"I never believed in destiny." Arthur's tone was low and soothing as he drank following his own statement before handing off the water to Merlin, who gladly gulped down the last few drops.

"Well, looks like we got something in common, after all," Arthur whispered. Merlin's eyes finally drooped shut, succumbing to his exhaustion. Arthur watched him fall into the fevered throes of a fitful sleep, a pang of sympathy erupting in his gut.

The sun was coming up over the valley now, its rays painting the meager spattering of clouds pink and orange. Splotches of light began to peek their way through the canopy of leafless branches overhead. Arthur had done it. He had kept Merlin alive through the night. But now they had to go. Merlin had fought hard, once again proving his strength to Arthur. However, even Merlin knew he could not hold out for much longer given the state he was in. Once again, Arthur hoisted his friend up over his shoulder, making his way out of the forest for good.

They were a sight to behold. The strong, sturdy, legendary king of Camelot, valiantly carrying his equally legendary friend through the vast expanse of the valley.

It was this sight that greeted the shocked faces of knights, peasants, servants, and royals alike as Arthur finally made his way over the hill and back onto the grounds of Camelot where the tournament had wrapped up for the night only two hours before. Not a soul had dared to leave the compound, though, once news of the king and his manservant's disappearance had made it's way throughout the grounds. The knights had prevented all the participants from leaving the field so they could be questioned, while a search party was about to make its way into the surrounding villages.

Crossing over the threshold right smack in the middle of the field, Arthur collapsed to his knees in exhaustion, laying an unconscious and, quite frankly, dying Merlin down once again in the grass. A stunned silence washed over the compound. Hundreds of faces stared down at them from the stands, mouths agape in shock as Arthur struggled on his hands and knees to regain his breath in the bitter air next to Merlin's motionless body. Even Gwen didn't dare to move.

Finally, a single body ripped its way out of the crowd, sprinting down to the fallen pair.

Gaius dropped to his knees in the grass beside Merlin, prying one of his lids open and pressing an ear to his chest.

"Gaius..." Arthur gasped.

"Sire, what happened? You must tell me."

"Just...help Merlin. Please."

"Arthur..." Gaius clasped a hand on Arthur's quaking shoulder, confused beyond belief. He had never heard the king beg before.

"We must get him to your chambers now."

Finally, Gaius seemed to snap out of it, summoning a pair of guards to come and help him carry his ward. Arthur watched in amusement as his entire fleet of knights rushed over and crouched down around their fallen friend, eager to help.

As they carried him off, Arthur rose to his feet and began to follow with more guards supporting him at his elbows, only to lock eyes with Guinevere. She had been watching worriedly from a distance, hands clasped in front of her mouth. Gwen smiled gently, both seeming to share a singular thought.

Thank god for Merlin.