Chapter 2

The Darkest Realization

ooo Arthur ooo

Hours had passed. The nightmare of moving Merlin was over. With his servant unconscious, burned and bleeding from the chest, he had to put Merlin on the horse in front of him and brace him as they rode. He thanked Tristan in his mind a thousand times, for teaching his horse to kneel on command but the jarring ride had taken a terrible toll on his manservant. It had been a nightmare on so many levels. Hearing Merlin's moans fade to agonized gasps and then to silence, had shredded his resolve.

Reaching Camelot and seeing the shocked, terrified looks of the townspeople had been a bad dream that turned into a rescue by the most humble of angels. Arthur would never forget that he had only managed to gasp out "Please, " when a farmer had stepped forward with a cart and wordlessly began to dump his load so that they could transport his friend more easily. An old woman had rushed out with a quilt to pad the movement of the rough wagon. A dark haired child watching from her mother's side had covered her face in sympathetic pain as she heard Merlin's heart rending gasp as he was gently lowered from Arthur's arms and into the cart. A few moments later she had materialized beside his servant in the wagon, tucking a wadded up, well loved scrap of a blanket beneath Merlin's' dark head, like a pillow. A runner was sent to the castle to alert Gaius to Merlin's arrival. As the cart had started forward, Merlin had begun to convulse with the pain of the movement, and Arthur had leaped from his horse, shouting for the farmer to halt. A boy of no more than ten summers had stepped forward and urged the king to ride with Merlin and he had led both of the horses behind the cart with a faithful joy and concern in his young face that Arthur would not soon forget. As he had ridden in to the main courtyard, trying vainly to brace Merlin from the rough lurching of the wheels over the cobblestones,the tears in the eyes of his people had moved him as much as their concern and kindness.

Gaius had been there in an instant. His robe flaring as the old man sped down the stairs. He had been grave and terse, professional, but there was no denying the bone deep terror in his loving eyes, as he had stooped to assess his ward's injuries.

Then the world came back in focus, even in the terrible whirlwind of what had happened, because Guinevere was in his arms. Her eyes struggled with questions and hope as she looked up at him, trying to understand what had happened and for just a little while, he had let himself cling to her with all the strength his heart could muster. He shook like a child. He couldn't speak. It was enough to let her still the gut deep trembling of his angry, disbelieving, terrified soul with the steadfast strength of her heart.

But even as the terror of Merlin dying before he got to help was fading, it was replaced by the realization of the magical nature of Merlin's injury. He was not responding to any of Gaius' medicines. He was in agonizing pain and nothing was helping.

Arthur's head still spun in confusion as he sat next to Merlin in Gaius' chambers. He could not tear himself away. Any one could see, how badly Merlin was injured, maybe he was dying, but he had no way to gauge the damage inflicted by a magical weapon, made of words and executed in fire. In his still reeling mind, he saw Merlin as the sudden lightning struck out of nowhere. His servant had deflected the bolt with a movement of his hand and a flash of his eyes, then the second bolt had struck. He would never forget that terrible image. The thunder, Morgana's voice and the smell of burning. Merlin was falling, his body seized in a paroxysm of light.

In that terrible moment, Arthur recognized a tangle of truths that echoed in his stunned mind. Merlin had magic. Merlin had lied to him. Merlin had saved his life with magic, probably giving his own in the process. And then there was the most terrible truth of all. If Merlin didn't open his eyes and talk to him soon, he would go mad. He would lose himself. His heart would break under the weight of the truth he had glimpsed once in the caves of Ealdor a few weeks ago and had denied steadfastly to himself in the weeks that followed.

Arthur tried to seize control of his thoughts, even as his heart quailed. Morgana had aimed the lightning blast at him and his manservant had stopped it with flick of his eyes. Arthur had heard no incantation, no spell. He began to understand that Merlin was not only a sorcerer, but was so powerful he did not even need words to create magic. Tears of betrayal stung his eyes as he struggled with his feelings, his shocked disbelief, with the weary,merciless knowledge that someone he trusted had betrayed him again

"Merlin", he whispered fiercely. He could not bring himself to look at his friend, his anger was so deep, but he could not bear to leave his side. How could he stand that Merlin was suffering for saving him? In the next moment, he felt only rage that Merlin had lied to him, and in the next moment, all he could recall was the silent plea in his eyes as Morgana's bolt had struck him. "Merlin."

Restless as his thoughts, he looked once again at the dark haired young man beside him. His heart contracted. His servant's face was incredibly pale, shining with unnatural sweat. His right hand was burned and raw under the white bandages. It trembled still, as if stuck in the conflagration of magic it had deflected. Arthur had been shocked to see the scar on Merlin's chest earlier. Gaius had said it was on old injury, but would say nothing more. It was a circular weal, the skin twisted and ugly, and now the scar was bleeding and burned again. Blood had already heavily stained the bandages that Gaius had bound in place. Even unconscious Merlin was panting in pain, his eyes screwed shut and his heart hammering unsteadily. Arthur could see his quick erratic pulse beating in the base of his neck, where the blood vessels beat in his throat. He was taking short shallow breaths.

Only a short while ago, Gaius had confessed that he was no longer sure what to do, beyond treating his ward's physical injuries. He had begged Arthur to send for a healer that had been banished from Camelot. Her name was Alice.

Arthur remembered her only vaguely, even though he, himself, had escorted her to the dungeon. Gaius claimed her skills as healer were legendary but Arthur was beyond caring. Guinevere had gone, taking a written plea from Gaius, along with Percival and Leon for security, to convince the healer to come. He told himself that Guinevere would not fail. If only Merlin could last until she arrived. Arthur hid his trembling hands by taking Merlin's uninjured hand in both of his. Gwen would be here soon he told himself. Gaius was readying another potion to ease Merlin, and as he glanced up he saw him approach with it in hand.

"I know it's bad," he said as the old physican coaxed the liquid down Merlin's throat. "What ever Gaius has given you for the pain isn't working so he's made you something else." Merlin's agony was beyond words and it struck at Arthur again, with all the weight of a sword strike. "Can you hear me, Merlin", he pleaded.

To his utter shock he felt Merlin's hand tremble and then slowly his fingers tightened around Arthur's hand. A smile blazed between the old physician and the king, but a shadow loomed for they knew he was suffering. "I'm here with you Merlin and help is coming. Hang on." Arthur was begging now, fighting reality every step of the way. He could see Merlin's eyes darting back and forth behind his closed eyes. As weak as he was, Merlin tried to move as if he was trying to turn and a whimper broke from his lips. His burned hand began to shake uncontrollably, and the scarlet stains on the bandages deepened and grew. Gaius cursed behind him.

"Arthur. Please Arthur", his servant panted deliriously, barely able to be heard. He leaned closer to hear, but the king felt the whispered plea as a scream of agony in his heart. "I'm burning." Merlin was sobbing, gasping in pain, lost in a nightmare that was weakening him by the second. "Arthur! " His voice caught as the pain overcame him, but he continued to beg, calling for his friend brokenly, until Arthur thought he would go mad. The reality of Merlin's nightmare shook the king to his core and he could not listen. He could not.

He leaned closer to his injured friend and gripped his hand tightly as he kept on talking. It seemed to calm his servant, his friend. Merlin eased at last, still fighting for each breath, lost in the pain of his injuries but free of the fire in his dreams. It was all Arthur could offer him. With his heart breaking, the king talked of nothing; he spoke of everything. He prattled on as endlessly as Merlin himself, until at last Guinevere appeared at his side. He could not bring himself to meet her eyes; he was so flooded with the warring forces of his heart; guilt and anger, betrayal and remorse, and now the sheer relief of her words.

"Arthur, Alice is here."