AN: Sorry for the delay in finishing this. Writer's block is the worst. Luckily when season 4 started, I found my muse again. Everything I wanted to do is still in here, but its more expanded and more thought out than it would have been a year ago. I have the last two chapters done and the epilogue half finished, so I will complete this within a week or two. Thanks to everyone who's read so far and to everyone who still wants to see how it ends. :)
Everything Is Never As It Seems
~~Chapter Four: I've Come to Take You Home~~
"Gaius!"
Arthur flung open the door, carrying Merlin's limp body close to him. He flew into Gaius' chambers, panting heavily. It was dark in the room, but by the light of the moon shining in through the window, he could see the physician sound asleep in bed.
"Gaius!" Arthur screamed, and he slammed the door behind him.
Gaius flew up in bed, mumbling incoherently at the intrusion and looking around in fear. His eyes fell on Arthur, and he relaxed slightly.
"My Lord, what-"
"It's Merlin," Arthur said. He stepped into the moonlight, where Gaius could see Merlin lying unconscious in the prince's arms.
"No," Gaius whispered.
"Help him, Gaius. Please," Arthur begged, his voice breaking on the last word.
Gaius shook the last vestiges of sleep off quickly, suddenly wide awake.
"Put him on the bed," he said, getting out of his cot and motioning to it.
Arthur hurried over and lay Merlin down carefully. As Gaius bustled about the room lighting candles so he could see, Arthur readjusted Merlin's bandages, blanching at the amount of blood that had still managed to seep out of the wounds in Merlin's chest and shoulder.
"What happened?" Gaius asked, kneeling down next to Merlin and slowly removing the bandages.
"Morgana told me she…she told me Merlin was in trouble. I went out to look for him, and I found him in a cave. He was attacked by something in the woods, I couldn't stop the bleeding. He…is he going to die, Gaius?" Arthur asked, and he turned to the physician.
"Not if I can help it, Sire," Gaius replied, and he stood up to root around the room for the supplies he would need.
Arthur turned back to his servant and gently laid his hand on Merlin's forehead. Merlin had seemed cold as ice when they were outside. Now, safe from the wind and the rain, Arthur could feel the fever burning in Merlin's body.
"He's burning up," Arthur fretted.
"I know," Gaius replied, kneeling down next to him again. As he began to work, Arthur stood and started pacing, his eyes never leaving Merlin. When Gaius got the bandages off, and Arthur could see the full extent of the damage to Merlin's body, he had to look away.
"This is all my fault," Arthur whispered.
"Don't blame yourself, Sire. You couldn't have known what would happen."
"I shouldn't have let Merlin leave tonight. I shouldn't have let him leave at all. I should've-"
"Arthur, I need fresh water, and towels."
It was Gaius calling him "Arthur" that snapped the prince back to reality.
"Of course." Arthur grabbed towels from a nearby cupboard and passed them to Gaius before seizing the water bucket and hurrying out of the room. If anyone could save Merlin, it was Gaius. Arthur just hoped that he'd gotten Merlin home in time.
Over the next hour or so, Gaius cleaned, sutured, and bandaged. Though the physician wouldn't come out and say it, Arthur knew that things did not look good for Merlin. His wounds were numerous and deep, and he had lost a lot of blood. Still, Gaius did his best to treat him while Arthur paced the room nervously, his eyes always on Merlin.
When Gaius declared that he had done all he could, Arthur carefully moved Merlin upstairs to his own bed, wrapped him in blankets, and set a chair next to him.
And that's where Arthur stayed throughout the early morning, the afternoon, and well into the next night.
Naturally, Gaius was in and out all day, cleaning, bandaging, and sitting at Merlin's side. He also continued to administer medicine to fight off the infection that had set in. As Merlin fought off the fever, Arthur replaced sweat soaked blankets and gently patted Merlin's forehead with a cool cloth.
During the course of the day, others came to visit. A few of the knights came to check up on Arthur when he didn't show up for training. Though many of them marveled over how distraught Arthur seemed over a mere servant, a few of them, the ones who spent more time with Merlin and Arthur, weren't surprised to see the concern in their prince's eyes.
Gwen and Morgana arrived in the morning. They offered to relieve Arthur, and though Arthur refused to leave, he allowed them to spend some time applying cool cloths to Merlin's chest, legs, and arms.
Around sunset, when Gwen and Morgana left to get Arthur some dinner, the strangest visitor of all arrived. Uther looked at his son in wonder, seeming as though he wanted to say something. However, though confusion, awe, and a hint of judgment were clear in his eyes, the king showed a rare moment of tact and didn't say a word. Instead, he laid his hand on his son's shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze, and left the room quietly.
When Gwen and Morgana returned with food, Arthur refused to eat…that is, until he saw the looks on their faces. Then he ate what little he could stomach, which wasn't much, before turning his attention back to Merlin.
Around midnight, though Merlin's fever had yet to go down, it didn't seem to be getting any worse. Finally, Gwen and Morgana retired to bed. Gaius administered a last dose of medicine and bandages, and, after failing to convince Arthur to get some sleep, retired to bed himself.
Arthur had been quiet all day. He'd barely said a word to anyone, which for him was a pretty astounding feat. Arthur smiled at the thought of what Merlin would think of the silent prince. He would never believe that Arthur had spent a whole day with his mouth shut. Just picturing the look of disbelief on Merlin's face was enough to make Arthur laugh out loud.
The laugh broke Arthur out of his stupor. Sitting quietly with Merlin wasn't going to help him get better. Merlin always needed a stern talking to before he would do what Arthur said, and even that was never a guarantee that Merlin would listen. So for the first time in hours, Arthur spoke. And once he started…well, as usual, there was no stopping him.
"I know you think I'm a prat, Merlin. And maybe…maybe now I'm inclined to believe you. I did something really stupid the other night. Making you leave Camelot…it wasn't the right decision. Or at least…I made it too hastily. I shouldn't have acted so quickly. I should have let you stay while I spent some time trying to figure out an alternative. Because I realized something after you left. I wasn't mad at you because you were practicing magic. I was mad because…because you had kept it from me. Because you felt like you couldn't tell me. And now…well, now I'm mad at myself, because I proved you right. You were right not to trust me, Merlin. Look how I treated you when I found out. It wasn't fair of me to act so rashly, and you didn't deserve it. All this time…all this time you've had my back. Even when I didn't know it, even when I didn't deserve it. Especially when I didn't deserve it."
Arthur paused for a moment, tears welling up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not until he had said everything he wanted to say.
"We'll work this out, Merlin. You don't have to leave Camelot. I don't care what it takes. I'll take your secret to the grave. Because I'm still indebted to you, Merlin. I'm sorry for what I said to you the other night, and for the way I acted."
A stray tear made its way out of Arthur's eye, and he swiped at it quickly before it could fall.
"You're a terrible servant. But you're a good man…and a good friend. You need to get better, Merlin."
Arthur paused, hoping that somewhere in Merlin's feverish brain he was listening to this. He picked up a cool cloth and gently dabbed at Merlin's forehead, and when Arthur heard Merlin let out a low moan, he felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Merlin had heard him.
Arthur removed the cloth and then, very lightly, slapped his friend on the shoulder.
"You will get better, Merlin. That's an order."
Arthur wasn't aware of falling asleep. One minute he was staring at Merlin, berating himself for perhaps the millionth time for acting so rashly; for kicking Merlin out of Camelot in an overly emotional, childish tantrum the likes of which only he could achieve.
The next minute Arthur jerked awake, his heart pounding and his muscles cramping from the awkward position he must have fallen asleep in. He massaged his sore neck muscles, unsure of what had woken him up.
Then he heard Merlin scream.
Arthur scrambled up out of the chair and leaned over Merlin's bed. By the light of the very dim candle, he could see Merlin drenched in sweat, thrashing and panting and crying out, trapped in the depths of a nightmare.
He felt Merlin's forehead. He was hotter than he'd been the last time Arthur had checked on him. Much hotter.
Arthur took a fresh towel from the bedside table, dipped it in the water bucket, and gently patted down Merlin's face and neck. Merlin moaned in his sleep, the water soothing his feverish skin.
This is good, right? Arthur thought to himself. This means he's getting better, sweating out the fever.
Arthur turned away, ready to go wake Gaius, when Merlin spoke.
"Arthur?"
"Merlin?"
Arthur leaned over the bed again. Merlin was tossing and turning, his eyes closed, caught in the throes of a nightmare.
"Arthur…"
"Merlin, wake up!"
Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulders and gently shook him.
"Arthur…help me…"
"I'm here, Merlin. You just have to wake up."
He shook him harder, afraid of hurting him but also wanting to save him from whatever imaginary horrors were plaguing him.
"No…no…"
Merlin just continued to toss, mumbling and groaning softly, his skin on fire.
Then he let out a blood curdling scream.
"NO!"
Arthur lost it.
"Merlin! Wake up, you idiot!"
He smacked Merlin in the face.
He was about to regret his actions when Merlin's eyes opened and he stopped thrashing. He continued to pant softly as he stared up at the prince.
"Arthur?"
"Yes, Merlin, it's me."
"You…where am I?"
He looked around the room, trembling slightly. His voice was weary and his eyes were glazed over, seeing but not seeing. Arthur had seen the symptoms before: Merlin was caught tight in the grips of a feverish haze. Chances were he'd be unable to get a grasp on anything, and whatever happened now would most likely be forgotten by morning.
"You're home, Merlin."
"Home? I don't…home…Ealdor…"
"No, Merlin. Camelot. I found you in the woods and I brought you home."
Arthur kept saying that word, hoping Merlin could use it as something to hold on to, to pull himself through the rage of fever.
"Camelot…right. I was…in a cave. I remember…cold…dying…there was a wolf."
Arthur's heart skipped a beat. A wolf. Just like in Morgana's dream. Arthur didn't know how she'd done it, but once again Morgana had seen something she shouldn't have known about. But that didn't matter so much to Arthur right now, because if Merlin lived – and Arthur had every intention of making sure that happened – he would have Morgana to thank.
Merlin's eyes slipped shut and he moaned again.
Arthur picked up the wet cloth from where it had fallen on the floor and reapplied it to Merlin's forehead, gently smoothing his creased brow.
"Relax, Merlin. It's all right. You're safe now."
"Safe…that wolf…Arthur, it was so strong…possessed, or driven by…something else."
"Something else?"
Morgana had mentioned possession, too.
"Golden eyes…someone was…but I killed it. No magic. Took my knife…"
Merlin made stabbing motions in the air.
"A knife? You didn't use magic?" Arthur asked.
Arthur hadn't found any weapons on Merlin. He'd figured Merlin had used magic. Any knife Merlin had used must still be in that clearing.
Merlin shook his head. "No magic. Dagger. One you gave me."
Arthur knew the one he meant. He'd given it to Merlin in a rare fit of gallantry, hoping to raise his servant's spirits. He had no idea Merlin still carried it.
"Stabbed it. But when it died it…something…something left it…fled…I don't know where…it's still out there, whatever it is…still out there…coming for me…"
Merlin trailed off, eyes wide and staring at nothing, still trembling.
So whatever had possessed the wolf was still out there somewhere? Arthur didn't like the sound of that. It had to be related to the sorcerer Merlin had killed. It was too much of a coincidence.
But Merlin shouldn't have to dwell on that now.
"It's all right," Arthur said again. He rubbed the cloth over Merlin's face once more, then his neck and his arms, while he tried to calm him down. "You're home now, in Camelot. You're safe. Sleep, Merlin. Nothing's going to hurt you here."
Merlin smiled sleepily, and Arthur felt some of the tension ebb from Merlin's body as he sighed and leaned back into the pillows. Arthur figured he was ready to drop back to sleep.
Until…
"I called to you. Helped you find me."
Arthur paused in his mindless ministrations and put the cloth down on Merlin's bed.
"What are you talking about?"
"When I was dying…kind of like…when Nimueh poisoned me…no light this time, just…a feeling. Like I knew where you were and where I was, so I…pulled you toward me."
Arthur couldn't believe this. Why was Merlin even telling him this? It must be the fever making him so candid. It must be-
"No more secrets, Arthur. Promise. I'm sorry…sorry…Arthur…"
"Don't apologize, Merlin. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Helped you find me. I knew you'd find me…knew you'd…"
Merlin trailed off, eyes drifting shut and leaving Arthur to his thoughts. Arthur had been too scared at the time, too focused on finding Merlin to acknowledge this, but he had felt…something. Like a pull in his gut. Like a rope was tied to his center, and someone was pulling on the other end, guiding him where he needed to go. The fact that he'd found Merlin in the midst of all that chaos – driving wind, pelting rain, biting cold – was it possible Merlin was telling him the truth? Had Merlin somehow…guided Arthur to him? It wasn't so fantastic, really. Not in light of everything he'd learned recently. Still…if Merlin could control him like that…
No.
If Arthur had learned anything in the past two days it was that Merlin was loyal, perhaps to a fault. Arthur had to admit that Merlin's magic scared him. But Merlin didn't. This magic, this power, in the hands of anyone else – in the hands of that sorcerer – that scared him. But Merlin…Arthur trusted Merlin with his life. He did. This was what Merlin had tried to tell him, but he'd been too angry, blinded by hurt and rage, to see.
It's how you choose to use it that matters.
He trusted this boy – this man – with his life. And that was what mattered.
Oh, they were going to have words, he and Merlin. About this weird bond that allowed Merlin to somehow communicate with Arthur while he was miles away, not once but twice now.
About just how much Merlin was capable of.
But for now, Merlin needed to rest, to get better.
He deserved that.
Arthur picked up the rag to wipe Merlin's brow again, but Merlin was fast asleep, breathing gently. Arthur felt his forehead. The fever was still raging, but, and perhaps Arthur was merely imagining this, it seemed to have lessened somewhat.
Arthur smiled. There would definitely be words exchanged later. But for now…
"Get some rest, Merlin."
Arthur stood up. He was going to get Gaius to check on Merlin. He was also thinking about getting Merlin some more pillows, or maybe pilfering a mattress from one of the guest chambers.
Arthur was halfway out the door, so he couldn't be sure what Merlin whispered in his sleep. But it sounded like:
"Thank you."
Arthur smiled as he shut the door quietly behind him.
"You're welcome."
