Vera felt the spell splutter out when she hit her head, and by the time she hit the ground it was mostly gone. She looked like herself again within a moment, but she doubted Merlin noticed. He was already gone.
I should get up and stop him, she realized, and started to push herself up.
And then the pain hit.
She dropped back and cried out weakly before biting her lip. No, Vera, she told herself viciously. You don't get that privilege. Grow up.
It hurt. It hurt. It felt like someone had taken an ax and buried it – dull end first – into her skull, and yet she was not dead. Yet. Shakily, she moved her hand to the top of her head. She hissed and pulled away. Her hand came away red. Also, from the way it felt, she'd either broken or sprained her neck.
She blinked several times, nearly getting lost in the pain.
Then she sighed and, using her fingertips and her knees, began to drag herself away from the door of the dungeon. If she turned that corner, she could drag herself up the three stairs – she winced at the thought – and through the backdoor for the underground, there was a farm really close… One step at a time. She had to get away first. She had a feeling that when Merlin – or Emrys or whatever – came out of there, he was going to want blood. She knew she would.
As she moved, the pain in her head flared up again, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. Just one inch at a time.
She moved past the other men, noticing briefly that one of them still seemed to be breathing, but she couldn't stop now. She was on her way out.
When Merlin entered, tearing off his cloak and tossing it onto the floor, the other two men turned to look at him. Gwaine was leaning over Arthur, holding the key, having just freed the king, and Arthur sat hunched on the wall.
Gwaine smiled, but Arthur's eyes went wide. "No…" Merlin almost thought he heard him whisper, but of course he didn't, because that hardly made sense.
Arthur suddenly leapt forward (or the nearest thing to leaping an injured, tired, and hungry man could manage) and wrapped one of the chains from his arm around Gwaine's neck. And then he pulled, one-handed.
Merlin started forward as Gwaine gasped in surprise. "Arthur, stop that!" he ordered.
Arthur could barely hold the chains together with only one-hand, and he was in an awkward position for pulling. Besides, after a moment Gwaine and Merlin could both see his heart wasn't in it; after a second or two of some (extremely gentle, on Gwaine's part) wrestling, Gwaine got the chains off his neck. Arthur sank back down, looking defeated.
Merlin stopped next to the other two. There was silence as Arthur breathed heavily and Gwaine rubbed his neck.
"I told you," Arthur said, and the effort he put into keeping his voice from cracking was apparent. "I don't know."
"Arthur, I didn't ask you a question," said Merlin slowly, swapping looks with the other knight.
"I don't know anything about Emrys," Arthur insisted.
Merlin knelt down next to him, a sinking feeling in his chest, and was on the verge of asking for an explanation when he saw Arthur fully for the first time. Merlin gave a little hiss of anger. Arthur's right arm looked terrible. It was twice its normal size and a purplish blue, and both lower arm and hand were misshapen. They were broken and the bones had never been set. Then there were the burns. They started at his collarbone and the red, sometimes scabbed streaks spread out down his chest. His shirt had a black, charred part where it used to lace.
Merlin felt his face losing expression and going slack. Part of him was seething. Part wanted to hug the poor king, proper or no. But most of him was wishing that he hadn't just likely killed the entire group of captors, because he would enjoy going back and killing them again.
Shaking himself, Merlin reached out to take Arthur by the shoulders. Arthur pulled back and tried to turn so his broken arm was away from Merlin's grasp. He was trying to hide it, but Merlin saw in his eyes that he was terrified. And it wasn't that he didn't recognize Merlin. He seemed lucid, sort of.
Back in the hall, the girl… Merlin remembered that with a few words, she'd turned into a facsimile of Gwen. Actually, if Merlin hadn't known, he would have said she was Gwen. Suspicion boiled up in him.
Merlin held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I won't touch you, see? Gwaine won't either."
Arthur seemed to relax, only slightly.
Merlin continued, "I'm Merlin. Merlin, your servant, you remember me?"
Anger flickered in Arthur's blue eyes, and Merlin nearly cheered to see it there, no matter what it meant. "You're not," he said, sounding like he was forcing the words out. "And I don't know who Emrys is."
Merlin chewed on his lip for a second, looking at Gwaine. He couldn't move Arthur unless he could touch him, and he couldn't do that if he couldn't get Arthur to believe him. And they had to hurry in case there were any more enemies loitering around. But Arthur was hurt, and when he was hurt, he was unreasonable. Merlin had known him long enough to know that. Gwaine shrugged in reply, but Merlin could see the concern in his eyes.
Gwaine and Arthur… That might convince him.
Merlin leaned forward so that he had Arthur's full attention (as if there was any chance of him losing it). The king leaned back. "Arthur," said Merlin, "you remember the Perilous Lands? Gwaine and I came and helped you, even though we weren't supposed to? Then the door fell and I got separated?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Gwaine and I wouldn't tell anyone about that. You know we wouldn't. Never."
His voice was nearly a whisper now, full of emotion, and for the first time he could see that Arthur has stopped expecting an attack. That he might have actually believed his servant.
Merlin's hand inched forward. Arthur tensed.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Merlin swore. "My hand will only touch the back of your head, okay?" Let him be ready, Merlin figured. He waited for Arthur to nod before he gently put his hand on the back of Arthur's cold, dirty, sweaty blond head. "Just look at Gwaine." He spoke soothingly, like he would to a hysterical woman or a frightened child… Or a king that had been kidnapped and suppressed and hurt.
Arthur slowly, slowly turned his head to look at Gwaine.
"Now," said Merlin. "You just need to sleep." And while Arthur wasn't looking, he whispered a word so quietly that no one could hear it, and his eyes flashed gold. Arthur went limp.
Gwaine looked at Merlin. Shrugging, the warlock wiped his face and realized that he had tears in his eyes. "We wouldn't have gotten him anywhere like that," he said.
"He can't walk if he's asleep," Gwaine argued.
"I'd rather carry him myself than make him walk right now," Merlin retorted so fiercely that Gwaine sighed in defeat.
"I'll carry him," he said.
"I can help with magic if you need me to…"
"No, you're still exhausted. I bet he's heavy, too." Gwaine sighed. "Let's just get him to the horses and away from here."
"And then we'll look after that arm and those burns," agreed Merlin, running over to the door and looking around quickly for enemies. The girl was missing, but no one else had moved and there was no one else. "Be careful with his arm," he ordered Gwaine. "Let's go."
A/N: What did you think? By the way, Merlin has begun airing in America, as of tonight. Season 4, that is. Exciting, right? For Americans. Oh, and I have a poll on my profile involving my 100th story, coming up soon, so… Please check it out. Vote. Voting is good.