Author's note: Dear readers, I am so, so sorry for the terribly long wait! I have been so busy with tests and assignments and essays to be done the last few weeks, I have not had that much energy or time to write. Thus this chapter turned out quite short compared to the others, but I have begun drafting the next. I hope to be able to write more over Christmas break. Thank you all for your patience!
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I Am the Embers of Your Fire - You Are the Breaking of My Dawn
Part 13
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Another morning dawns on Camelot, crisp and light. Merlin heaves himself out of bed and dresses quickly, noting as he looks out the window that he might be on time for once. Arthur ought to be pleased about that.
Breakfast is a quiet affair, as Gaius is sitting absorbed in some ancient tome he's recently found deep back in the older parts of the library. When Merlin has finished and leaves for the royal kitchen to fetch the Prince's morning meal, the corridors are rapidly starting to fill with busy servants and guards walking their shifts.
He meets Gwen on the threshold to the kitchen; the room is steam-filled and there's a constant lingering smell of freshly baked bread and a multitude spices, attacking his nose. As on most days Gwen has been there earlier than him, and is already carrying an overloaded tray for her mistress. Today there's an extra thing on the platter though, a large white bouquet; the flowers look newly-plucked and Gwen's face is half-hidden by the silvery petals.
"Hi Gwen," Merlin greets her with a smile. "You picked those?" he asks, pointing. "They're very pretty."
To his surprise the woman shakes her head at his question. "They really are, aren't they? They're a gift for the Lady. I found them with a note on my doorstep this morning."
"Oh, who sent them?" he asks curiously.
"I have no idea – some secret admirer probably. She has quite a few of those; she is such a fine Lady," Gwen says knowingly and then she blushes a little, hurrying to add: "Not that I'm saying she shouldn't have any admirers; of course she should! Um …"
Before she can prattle more and the situation gets awkward, Merlin cuts gently across. "Of course she's got admirers, the Lady is stunning, we both know that! Oh, here's my tray."
One of the kitchen aides pushes the Prince's food into Merlin's hands and the cook sends them both a warning glare; she's never been fond of loiterers.
The warlock takes the hint. "I must go wake Prince Arthur. I'll see you around, Gwen."
"Yes, you better hurry, before he wakes by himself and discovers there is no food to be had," the woman agrees and laughs slightly, he blush lifting. "Take care, Merlin."
As predicted, Arthur isn't as grumpy as on most other mornings, when Merlin wakes him in time and presents some freshly baked bread and roasted bacon, the Prince's favourite. However, that matters little when it comes to the length of the chore list. Within a few minutes after getting the Prince awake and dressed Merlin finds he'll have his hands full the rest of the day, with cleaning and laundry and polishing and seeing to the horses and a hundred other little things that needs to be done - at least in the opinion of Royal Prats.
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The day passes quickly and without incident. It's oddly calm actually, and Merlin finds it suspicion since there is rarely a day in Camelot without any kind of episode happening – may it be an illness, an attacking sorcerer or that he trips down the stairs and gets the Prince's newly laundered clothes all muddy. However none of this happens for several hours and Merlin starts to think that maybe that feeling of dread he'd felt this morning was nothing, and he can start relaxing.
He is just on his way back from the stables, which Arthur had ordered him to muck out despite it probably not really being a chore a Prince's Manservant should do, when he runs straight into Gwen.
She's clearly distressed and Merlin reaches out to grab her shoulders gently to steady her. The young woman quivers slightly, panic in her eyes.
"Gwen, what's happened? What's wrong?"
"It's Lady Morgana," Gwen says shakily. "She'd just taken a nap an hour ago, so I went away for a while tending to my chores. Then I went to wake her so she'd be in time for dinner with the King, but no matter what I do, she won't wake up! She's just … lying there, and she's so pale, she won't respond to anything. Something's wrong! Please, Merlin, you must help me!"
A knot of worry forms in the pit of Merlin's belly. People don't just sleep so deeply normally. She couldn't be…?
No!
"Gwen, was she breathing? Was—" Before he can finish the sentence the woman nods and cuts across.
"Y-yes, and her heart still beats, but, but…" A shudder of fear travels through the maidservant's body again, almost causing to bring her to tears. "Oh Merlin! What should I do? What if she's…?"
Merlin tries offering some comfort, letting a hand linger on her shoulder as he steers her through the corridor. "We have to fetch Gaius."
()()()
A knock soundly echoes in the chamber and Arthur looks up from his desk, where heaps of documents are scattered about waiting for his signing. As he calls for the person to enter, a guard appears, a slight frown marring the man's face. The guard bows shortly.
"Sire, the King requests your presence in the Lady Morgana's chambers."
Morgana? Forehead creasing with confusion, Arthur puts down the quill. "When?"
The guard's response is brisk. "Immediately, sire."
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His heart catches in his throat at the sight of her.
Morgana lies still and deathly pale beneath layers of blankets, some of which her maidservant is adjusting with slightly shaky hands. His father stands by the foot of the bed, leaning in slightly, his eyes darkened; Gaius is sitting on the bedside checking the Lady's brow, his medicine bag lying open on the table next to a vase of white flowers. The curtains are drawn open and candles unlit, the room bathing in sunlight, yet a shadow seems to linger over them all.
Merlin is there as well – Arthur is initially surprised for he sent the servant down the stables merely an hour ago, but then again the boy is the physician's ward. Gaius must've called for him. The boy is lingering uneasily, exchanging trouble glances with his mentor and then the maidservant, Guinevere.
"…What could have caused this, Gaius?" Uther is saying when Arthur enters.
The physician shakes his head. "I am not sure, I need more time to examine her. But it is like her body is simply … shutting down."
Horror crosses the King's face. "How is that possible? A poison?"
"Perhaps, or maybe an illness, sire," Gaius says gravely. "But all of the Lady's food and drink is checked every day just the food of the whole royal family; poison is highly unlikely. Nevertheless I cannot exclude that possibility."
Arthur decides to make himself known. "Surely you can cure her, Gaius?"
"Let us hope I can."
"You will have access to all the resources you need," the King says without hesitation. "Your highest priority is to heal her."
()()()
When they exit the Lady's chamber – the King and Prince lingering by her bedside – two hours later, Merlin helping to carry the large medicine bag, the warlock turns to his mentor worriedly. "What's wrong with her, Gaius? Will she be all right?"
"I do not know, Merlin," the old man says gravely. "I have never seen anything like that, not with someone so young and healthy…It makes no sense."
"Perhaps she was poisoned after all," the warlock murmurs, dismay flashing through him at the thought. That'd surely mean she'd ... No, that can't be allowed to happen. He doesn't want to think about the horrifying risk.
"Gaius, maybe I could…"
He halts his words right in time as the clicking of boots against the stone floor announces someone's presence, and a few seconds later a troupe of guards passes the corridor. Merlin bites his lip and gives Gaius a meaningful glance.
"…help?"
The physician only shows disapproval. Were his hands not full of equipment, the old man probably would have hit his head for suggesting such a foolish thing, in an open corridor no less. Merlin struggles to look abashed – he just wants to help! He doesn't like standing idle while someone he cares about could be dying at this very moment. He can't let that happen!
"No, Merlin," Gaius says sternly and begins to walk toward their chamber. "That is far too risky. Have you forgotten what happened to Gwen's father? No, we shall find a cure for Morgana by conventional means."
"I want to help!"
"You can do so by starting to search through the medical records after similar cases. That may give us some answers. I must return to the Lady shortly, so you better get started right away. I'll speak to Prince Arthur about your aiding me."
Through his teeth Merlin lets out a sigh. So he'll have to spend the rest of his day bent over old dusty medicine books when he could be researching a healing spell.
The stern gaze Gaius traps him with stops the complaints he want to voice from leaving his throat.
"…All right Gaius. Anything else?"
"Yes, you can go the apothecary and find me so yarrow."
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Two days pass.
Since Gaius demands his aide, the Prince gives Merlin momentary leave from his ordinary duties; but Merlin isn't grateful for that. If he'd had to muck out stables, carrying laundry and clean out the fireplace, that'd mean things were normal and that the Lady wasn't ill. Now everything is just wrong. Gwen has become so down and silent, she spends all her time on her mistress' side anxiously waiting for something to happen; he hasn't had a normal, light conversation with her for days.
If there was just something he could do…! Anything…!
But Gaius won't allow it. No magic. So he'll have to spend his time searching through book after old book, in vain trying to find an answer.
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"Anything yet?" Merlin asks carefully when Gaius returns to their rooms, the old man's face darkened and his body slightly slumped. The question is always the same.
Unfortunately, so is also the answer.
Arthur has abruptly turned quiet and restless, and Merlin cannot blame him. This means the Prince has been tense and grumpy, and the young warlock hasn't been able to have any normal conversation with him – at least no what he'd define a normal conversation with Prince. Mostly the Prince sends him off for long tiresome chores and spends his days on the training fields, hacking away furiously at a dummy with his sword, refusing to do anything else. The entire castle have been able to feel the Prince's tension. Arthur's spent more time yelling at every little thing, or pacing down the halls, and the every servant tries avoiding him if they can.
And if the prince is like a dark cloud with worry, he's nothing compared to the King. Uther has spent the last few days sitting by his beloved ward's bedside, passing onto his duties to his advisors. Talk is running wild in the streets. Whenever he goes to the well Merlin hears someone murmuring about the Lady's illness. The whole city is in a state.
Merlin's tried to cheer Arthur up but he has no idea how, not when his own heart is so heavy with worry. Lady Morgana has done naught to deserve this fate. By every day that passes, his hope of a cure diminishes more and more. If Gaius can't heal her, no one can.
It's been three days now.
The question constantly gnawing at the back of Merlin's mind is How many more will she have?
Will it be enough for us to find a cure?
Gaius spends all day making potions and then administering them to Morgana; Merlin barely sees him anymore. He's taken to making dinner every night because when he returns, late in the evenings, the physician is too tired to do it himself.
Gaius shakes his head sadly as he settles by the table, giving him a grateful look as he takes the offered bowl of stew. "Nothing. She's not responded to any of my tinctures…"
Not for the first time, Merlin quietly suggests; "There is another way. If I could just—"
"No, Merlin. The King is with her at all times, it's too dangerous. We have no idea what we're dealing with. A basic healing poultice might not be enough and would only rouse suspicion. Besides, with Uther's constant presence how would you get it there?" The warlock shakes his head mutely. Gaius is right; there are guarding eyes everywhere in the Lady's chamber right now, and if Gaius were to ask them all to leave only to let his ward inside would be far too suspicious. But still…
"Healing magic is strong and dangerous if you do not know how to properly use it. It might just prove to make her illness even more fatal."
Merlin stares down into the bowl, and then with a sigh pushes it away. He can't find any appetite. What if the Lady can't be healed …? What then should he do?
"There has to be some way," he says desperately. A brief thought enters his mind, of Gwen's devastated face and of Arthur's grief if the Lady wouldn't make it, and the clear shock of it ripples through him. No, he can't let that happen.
Morgana is like a sister to the Prince - Arthur would become like a ghost were he to lose her like this.
"I'm trying, Merlin," Gaius says wearily. "I'm trying."
"If I can do anything to help…" he glances at his mentor: a plead.
But the old man know what he's thinking and will not have it. "We'll cure her with conventional means. You can help me by fetching me some fresh rosemarine in the morning."
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Darkness is rapidly falling outside the window as Merlin puts down the Prince's evening meal on the table, silently announcing his presence. Arthur, who is changing into his nightshirt, makes a noncommittal grunt in acknowledgement. The scene would've been ordinary if not for the constant pressing silence. There is no banter tonight, just like there's been no banter for the last three days.
Merlin hasn't realized until now how badly he misses it. It's almost like an itch that cannot quite be reached – he struggles to cheer up the Prince, if just for a moment so they can talk like normal and if Arthur could just call him an idiot without malice again he'd be happy. But Arthur won't, so stubbornly set in silence. He doesn't raise his voice, and Merlin stopped trying to joke two days ago when the Prince stopped smiling.
As Arthur emerges from behind the dressing screen to take seat, Merlin fills his goblet with wine. The alcohol will calm Arthur's nerves somewhat, at least for some time, enough for him to find some rest. A Prince who doesn't sleep is never a functional Prince, no matter how worried he is for his beloved ones.
"Has Gaius come up with anything yet?" Arthur asks, poking at the food on the tray with little interest.
"He's continuing with the treatment," Merlin answers vaguely, "but…"
There it is, the ever-lingering word, the warlock thinks bitterly. But…if…
The Prince heaves a sigh. The shadows caused by the candlelight makes the frown and lines of worry on his face even more obvious, and Merlin has a sudden urge to reach out and lay a hand on the man's shoulder. But he can't do that, Arthur's the Prince and servants can't just do that, never mind his good intentions. Instead, Merlin puts down the pitcher and says, "It's going to be all right, I know it is. She's going to be absolutely-"
"Merlin," the Prince cuts him off, sending him a sharp look.
"What?"
"Just – don't."
Arthur sounds so … vulnerable. It feels somehow wrong to see and hear him like that, Merlin doesn't know what to do or what to say. Arthur is never vulnerable. He's always so strong and certain. But the warlock knows that whereas he is disconcerted, the Prince is also itching to do something, and he knows nothing about healing or illnesses. In this situation there is no knife-work or diplomacy that can be done to help. There's nothing he can do.
"I was just trying to-"
"I know, I know." The Prince holds his gaze – Merlin barely dares to blink or breathe for a moment, unsure why Arthur's gaze affects him like that, why his voice ...
Then Arthur looks away momentarily and speaks, making a gesture toward the door, and the spell is abruptly broken. "Go home, Merlin. Get some sleep. You can clean this up in the morning."
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