A/N: Well I told you that this would be the last chapter to this story, but once it was finished it was over 9,000 words and ridiculously long so I have split it into two chapters. The reason it is so long? - Well I share a computer with the rest of the family. My 9 year old got onto the computer while I was doing a final proof read of this chapter a week ago and downloaded something that had malware in it and the chapter was wiped out! I had to re-write the danged thing!! It grew a bit as a result.

I would like to thank dHALL for helping out with this last chapter(s).

Chapter Thirteen

After two days of enforced inactivity, Arthur's mood could safely be considered foul. The heavy cast covering the lower half of his left leg and foot not only prevented him from being able to move around freely, it also made it impossible to complete simple tasks that he had always taken for granted, such as bathing. The ability to soak in a hot tub of water was a basic luxury that he had never seen as anything more than a normal part of life, but now it was an undertaking that defied all logic. The cast was abominably heavy and created a whole new set of aches and pains as the young man tried to get comfortable in his own bed, let alone trying to sit in a tub of water without getting the blasted thing wet.

Arthur, out of pure necessity, had been assigned a new man-servant to take Merlin's place, and while the prince held no ill will toward the young man - Edward - he couldn't help feeling bitter and irritated by his very presence. Edward was a constant reminder that Merlin lay in the next chamber seriously ill and wounded. Arthur naturally realized that this was in no way Edward's fault, but he found himself biting his tongue every time the man knocked and politely came into his chambers. Merlin would not have knocked; he would have barged right in. Merlin would have been anything but quiet; he would prattle away at Arthur and make a general fool of himself; the consequence of which would raise the young prince's spirits.

Arthur genuinely wished that he could simply dismiss the man from his duties, but now more than any other time in his life, except for when he was a small child, Arthur needed the help of a servant. Getting dressed posed a particular problem for the Crowned-Prince of Camelot these days. The first day after waking from a drug induced sleep; Arthur found that there was no way to put pants on. Even if he had Edward cut the left pant leg off, the remaining material would still never go over the bulky device Gaius had created to keep his leg set properly. Arthur had to admit that the physician's device was rather ingenious even if it was difficult to move around in. That morning, one of the royal seamstresses was tasked with taking measurements and making a few pair of specialized slacks for the prince. The left leg had to be greatly over-sized as well as the crotch of the pants to accommodate getting it on over the cast. At Gaius' insistence, the pant leg had to stop at the knee so he still had easy access to the cast and Arthur's leg. The end result looked rather ridiculous in Arthur's eyes and they needed to be held up on the young man's hips with a stout draw-string.

Arthur honestly couldn't fault his new servant in any tangible way. Edward was polite and efficient, but he lacked any sense of humor. He would rarely speak unless spoken to; he never ventured any opinions or tried to scold Arthur when he would sit up in bed dangling his legs off the side - something strictly forbidden by the court physician. He never attempted to advise the prince that standing or hopping over to the window was a very bad idea and not at all good for his injured leg. He was prompt with Arthur's meals and quietly cleaned up his master's chambers without being asked to. In short, Arthur found his very presence to be altogether annoying and he dismissed the man each day as soon as Edward had preformed his required tasks.

Shortly after Edward left is chambers on the morning of the third day, Gaius entered Arthur's room carrying two long thick wooden rods that were smoothed out and forked at one end. He set them down next to the bed as he approached to check Arthur's casted leg. There was some swelling that made the cast tight, but not overly so.

"You have not been keeping this leg elevated enough, Arthur" Gaius admonished, as he inspected the prince's leg.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the court physician while still managing to look decidedly guilty. "I have only put it down once in a while, just to change the position. I'm beginning to get... "Arthur stopped talking, looking rather embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"What is it, My Lord?" Gaius asked; concerned that the prince had a new symptom that could complicate his recovery.

Arthur glanced at the door that stood open. One of the royal guards had been posted outside his bed chamber, by Uther. The fact that Arthur had almost died at the hands of a couple of thieves had shaken the king and he now saw enemies around every corner and had thus ordered a guard to stand outside the prince's bed chamber, only allowing trusted royal staff entrance to the room. Arthur bristled at what he considered a ridiculous measure. No one would dare attack him in his own bed chamber; no one could.

"It's just sitting here, well..." lowering his voice to a mere whisper, Arthur leaned closer to the court physician."My backside is getting a bit sore."

Gaius sat back, holding in the smile that wanted to form on his lips. "I see. Well, you should try rolling on your side with a pillow between your legs. Arthur, if you don't keep your leg up it will swell more and then you'll have a whole new set of problems to deal with. Try to remember that this cast needs to be in place for at least six weeks, possibly eight depending on how well you heal."

Arthur fell back against his pillows dramatically. "Eight weeks! That is far too long, Gaius. You must do something to speed up this process!"

Arthur knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn't help it. The forced inactivity was driving him mad. Gaius looked at him in a manner that spoke volumes about just what he thought of that command.

"Arthur, it is quite possible that eight weeks is longer than you will need. I must admit that your recovery thus far has been nothing short of miraculous. I have treated many broken bones and you've shown remarkable healing even before I set the bone and treated the injury. I am actually at a loss as to why this should be so. That, however, does not change the fact that if you don't keep this leg up, you will prolong your recovery time."

"I'm sorry, Gaius, I know that you are doing everything that you can to help. You know, it almost sounds like you are disappointed that I am healing so quickly."

Gaius raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That is not at all the case, Sire. I do want you to heal quickly, and I want you to heal correctly. I have been a physician for a very long time and when I am faced with a situation that defies reasonable explanation I must ask myself what the cause is. I am very pleased to see you doing so well, I just cannot account for it."

Arthur fell silent as Gaius prodded his leg above the end of the cast and tried not to wince in response to the physician's ministrations. "How is Merlin doing?"

Gaius pulled his hand back, looking more tired than Arthur had ever seen him. He simply shook his head, and then reached into his bag for a salve to apply to the irritated skin at the mouth of Arthur's cast.

"He is recovering, isn't he?" When the physician didn't answer right away, Arthur grew even more concerned for his friend. "Gaius?"

Gaius stopped and looked into Arthur's eyes. "The infection has not responded well to my efforts. He rages with a fever and has done so for the last two days. In his weakened state..." Gaius paused for a moment. He seemed to look nearly heartbroken which increased Arthur's concern tenfold. "I fear the outcome. Gwen is sitting with him right now, but she will need to go back to her duties when I finish with you. Morgana has been incredibly generous, sparing Gwen to help me when I cannot be with Merlin."

Arthur raised his eyebrows at that. He knew that Morgana would fiercely look out for Guinevere, but he hadn't really realized that concern extended to Merlin. For a moment Arthur felt almost guilty for the way he often treated his man-servant, but he quickly squashed that feeling. Most of the time, he thought was actually very good to Merlin, especially when it came to running interference with the king.

Gaius had finished applying the salve to Arthur's leg and got up. He brought the wooden poles over to the side of the bed and instructed Arthur to sit up and allow his legs to hang over the edge of the bed.

"These sticks will allow you a little more freedom of movement, but understand that you still need to keep your leg elevated as much as possible."

Arthur noticed that there was a short handle like piece of wood coming out from the side of each pole about a third of the way down. Gaius handed the rods to the prince with the handles facing him.

"Now, what you will do is to use these sticks to stand but you are to put no weight on your left leg. The forks at the top of the sticks go under your arms and use the handles to control the movement of the sticks. Stand up and use the sticks and your good leg to support all of your weight."

Arthur did as instructed. It took him a moment to get comfortable with the unfamiliar action.

"Good, now when you want to move - place the sticks a little in front of you and swing on the sticks so that your right leg moves forward."

As Arthur tried to do this, his casted foot dragged along the floor.

"You'll have to bend your knee slightly to keep that leg up off the floor, Sire."

Arthur tried again and nearly fell forward onto the floor as he over extended himself by swinging to far, but Gaius was there to catch him.

"You'll have to practice a bit with these, I'm afraid. Let's get you turned around and see if you can make it back to the bed."

Gaius helped him to turn around and face the bed. This time Arthur was able to make it to the bed without dragging his casted leg on the floor or falling, but he felt worn out after such a short period of activity. The cast was surprisingly heavy and his leg was starting to throb slightly.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by a scream from the next room. It was Guinevere calling frantically for Gaius. Without asking for Arthur's leave, Gaius was up and out the door in an instant. Arthur reached for the walking sticks, but he didn't want to try and navigate just yet with them. He needed to get into the next chamber without being slowed down by the unfamiliar skills required to use them.

He beckoned the guard in anxiously. "Come here and help me. I need to get over there."

The guard moved quickly to Arthur's bedside and hoisted him up with one of Arthur's arms over his shoulder and his arm around the prince's waist, as Arthur hopped hurriedly out the door. As they rounded the large pillar before the doorway into the adjoining room, Arthur felt his stomach drop. Guinevere was holding one of Merlin's arms while Gaius held the other. They were bent at the elbows and every muscle was taught as his entire body stiffened and jerked spasmodically in seizure. Neither Gwen nor Gaius were strong enough to keep this up much longer and Arthur grabbed hold of the table by the door to hold himself up before ordering the guard to go and help them.

Arthur has seen a seizure like this one once before. One of his knights, Sir Gaillardet, who suffered a wound in battle that became infected, died shortly after suffering this kind of fever induced seizure. Arthur felt stricken. Merlin had sworn no oath, he wasn't supposed to die in service to Camelot, he was supposed to clean Arthur's bed chamber, to wash his socks, but not to die. The seizure seemed to take forever to pass, but in truth it had only been but a few minutes. As Merlin's body relaxed and the muscles stopped twitching, everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. The guard quickly remembered his charge and moved back to support Arthur, who instructed him to get him to the chair that Gwen had vacated when she helped hold Merlin down.

Gaius looked gravely at Arthur. "I fear there is little hope now. I must consider easing his passing. Arthur this is a painful; a brutal way to die."

Arthur shook his head vehemently. "No! He can still pull through this Gaius. I refuse to believe that he is going to die. Do you hear me?"

Gaius turned terribly sad eyes to his ward. Losing Merlin was like losing a child of his own. He desperately wanted to share Arthur's belief, but the scientist in him, the physician in him, told him that it couldn't be so. Arthur looked at Gaius and Gwen, "Gwen, I'm sure Morgana needs you, Gaius go; I'll stay here with him." Both looked reluctant to leave. "Don't worry, the guard will come in and help me if he has another fit."

The guard took the prince's words as a dismissal and quietly stepped outside the door, but remained just past the door frame. Gwen made sure to get Arthur's leg propped up on a stool before she too took her leave. Gaius stared at Merlin a moment longer before also silently turning to leave the room.

"Gaius, is there really nothing more you can do for him?" Arthur asked, plaintively.

Gaius stopped and looked back. He had lost hope for the boy's recovery over the last twenty-four hours and that showed in his face. "This is a battle that Merlin must fight on his own. I only wish he possessed your recuperative powers, Sire."

Seeing the devastation in Arthur's eyes, Gaius sighed deeply. "I don't believe it is possible he could come back to us. I'm sorry, Arthur."

The physician had been sure that Merlin would recover after seeing what he thought he had witnessed upon Merlin's collapse, but the raging fever and now this seizure seemed too much for even the young warlock to overcome. He shook his head sadly and turned without another word leaving the room.

Arthur was shaken by what he had witnessed and by Gaius' lack of hope. He may not admit it aloud, but he considered Merlin a friend. If he were to be completely honest with himself he knew that Merlin was one of the few people in his life who truly was his friend; he held nothing back, or at least very little. He spoke his mind openly, knowing that Arthur would not persecute him for it. He challenged Arthur's ideas and opinions not only of himself, but of the kingdom and how things should be in a fair and just society. In short, Merlin wasn't just a supplicant; he was a true and honest friend, and might have someday made a valuable advisor to a king.

Arthur had seen enough battle wounds to know how grave Merlin's situation had become. Far stronger men had died with lesser injuries due to infection. He thought about the last time he and Merlin had spoken, out in the forest. Why hadn't he seen how injured the boy was? Why didn't he insist that Merlin return to Camelot alone to get help? Gaius' words kept repeating in his mind.

'I must admit that your recovery thus far has been nothing short of miraculous. I have treated many broken bones and you've shown remarkable healing even before I set the bone and treated the injury.'

'I have been a physician for a very long time and when I am faced with a situation that defies reasonable explanation I must ask myself what the cause is.'

'I only wish he possessed your recuperative powers, Sire.'

Arthur gazed down at his leg and another remembered conversation came unbidden to his mind.

'Merlin, did it occur to you that this stranger might be a sorcerer?'

'I suppose he could have been, but it seems pretty unlikely.'

'Unlikely? Merlin, honestly what do you know about magic? You know, sorcerer or not, this mead is good and I don't want to worry about this trader right now.'

Arthur felt as if his heart had stopped momentarily, then it sped up rapidly. He looked around the room trying frantically to spy what he sought. It wasn't there.

"Guard!" he called, in a voice that was excited and fearful at the same time. The guard rushed in, not knowing what to expect. "Go to my chambers and look for a backpack. It would have come back with us when we first arrived."

The guard frowned in confusion, wondering what the prince was talking about and why he seemed so agitated.

"Go! Now, quickly!"

At that command, the man turned and left the room hastily. He had no desire to incur the young prince's wrath. Arthur thought about their time in the forest. Each time he drank the mead he felt much better. He suspected that the trader was something other than he claimed. If that mead did indeed have magical properties, it could easily explain his unusual healing ability. Then another thought occurred to Arthur. If Odin Gillivray was a sorcerer and the mead had magical healing properties then to use it knowingly was breaking the laws of Camelot; laws he had sworn an oath to uphold when he was crowned prince of the land and assumed, officially, the mantle of leadership one day.

Arthur looked again at Merlin and watched as his eyes darted back and forth restlessly under closed lids. His face was covered in sweat and he was having some trouble breathing; panting softly as the fever raged through his body. He looked so small and vulnerable that Arthur realized, in that moment, he didn't care about the law. If the law allowed an innocent man, a noble and valiant man, to die then the law was wrong.

Perhaps this Gillivray was a sorcerer. Perhaps, just perhaps, he foresaw this injury and Merlin's struggle for life. Maybe, he had given the mead to Merlin so that he would be able to heal from this wound. But, what had the boy done? He had given it to Arthur for his broken leg! It was ridiculous. A broken bone would heal; a sword wound was far more dangerous. Why had Merlin done this?

Arthur's musings were broken off when the guard came back holding the pack that Merlin had carried. It was worn and beaten, much the way the young man was. Arthur almost snatched it from the guard's outstretched hands and began searching through it for the flask. He found it quickly and dropped the pack. The flask was about half full and he unscrewed the cap praying that the contents were still good and not spoilt from sitting in the pack for three days. He sniffed at it experimentally and found the smell to be warm and welcoming. Just the smell of the mead alone brought about a calming sensation and Arthur was even more convinced that Merlin's life depended on this. He looked up to the guard who stood by uncertainly wondering what was so important about this flask the prince was interested in.

"I need you to help me. Lift him up to a position where he can drink."

The guard raised his eyebrows in shock. He wasn't sure he had heard correctly. "Excuse me, Sire?"

"Which word didn't you understand? Lift him up so that he can drink."

The guard moved around to the opposite side of the bed, not wishing to try and squeeze between Arthur's propped leg and the boy in the bed. He had to kneel on the mattress in order to get close enough to raise the young man's shoulders. When he did, Merlin's head flopped backward pathetically so he adjusted his hold; bringing his upper arm in close to allow Merlin's head to rest on it. Arthur leaned forward saying a silent prayer that he was right about this and tipped the flask up allowing a small amount of the liquid to pour into Merlin's mouth. He reached over and closed his jaw and waited for the young man to swallow. He did this several more times until Merlin had consumed at least half of the mead remaining in the flask.

Finally Arthur sat back and nodded to the guard to lower Merlin back into the pillows. As the man came back around the bed Arthur addressed him. "Thank you for your help. What happened here, just now, is never to be spoken of. Is that clear?"

The man recognized the steel in Prince Arthur's eyes. He nodded his head in understanding and said, "Yes, Sire."

"Please close the door on your way out. I'll call if I need anything else."

The guard nodded and bowed slightly, then exited the room with a decidedly perplexed look on his face.

Arthur looked over his shoulder to be certain the door was closed tightly before he turned back to the young man laying so still, his entire body drenched from the fever. Arthur took one of the linen cloths set aside for the purpose of wiping down Merlin's fevered brow and soaked it with water from the basin set next to the bed. He began to wipe down his servant's brow and arms not really knowing what else he should do at the moment. As he worked, Arthur's thoughts spilled out unbidden.

"You can be a real pain in the ass, Merlin; you know that don't you? What the hell were you thinking? You should have told me how badly you were hurt. You should have trusted me. Honestly, I don't know why I put up with you at all. You are opinionated, outspoken, and disrespectful of my station. You have called me a 'prat' on more occasions than I care to count, and you think nothing of questioning my authority."

Arthur sat back in the chair for a moment holding the wet cloth that was now quite warm from contact with Merlin's heated body wishing the young man would snap back with some witty retort, but he just lay there breathing hard as his eyes continued to dart back and forth under closed lids in his delirium.

"You have never had any qualms about disagreeing with me and fiercely challenging my decisions or opinions when you do disagree. I guess that is the truest test of friendship, and I think that I have come to rely on that. You don't just stand up to me, Merlin; you stand beside me, and you always have."

Arthur had to stop speaking for a moment as feelings welled up inside of him, feelings he didn't know how to express. This was new territory for the young prince who had spent almost his entire life trying to be as self-reliant and self-contained as possible because that is what was required of him. He re-wet the cloth and began the task of wiping down Merlin's fevered body as he took a deep breath to get his emotions under control before he spoke again.

"You told Gwen that you don't matter. That's not true, Merlin. You matter to me, you matter to Gwen, to Gaius, to Morgana - Merlin, you do matter."

Arthur had to stop speaking once again as his voice grew husky with emotion. He stopped and put the linen cloth back on the bed side table and after a moment he swallowed hard and continued.

"I am a better prince..." Arthur's voice broke despite his efforts to remain tightly controlled. He leaned forward getting a little closer as if mere proximity would make the words hold more power. "I am a better man for having known you. You were right about me; what you said back in the forest was true. I do need you."

Arthur cleared his throat, willing his emotions back into check. "You have to fight, Merlin. You must hold on." He tried to laugh, but it came out more as a snort. "Hell, I'd order you to get better if I thought you'd obey me."

Arthur took a hold of Merlin's hand, feeling the heat continuing to radiate off of him in waves. "Just don't give up. I promise that I won't give up on you; you just have to hold on."

TBC