A/N: Long chapter, yay! Sorry for update that was a week late, but I was seized with a desire to write Mergana, and if I'd edited this I wouldn't have been able to finish that, because the Merthur bonfire would overcome the sparks of Mergana.
I realize that I modeled this disease vaguely after Captain Trips…huh. Stephen King pervades all.
Arthur woke up to a tapping noise. He growled.
"Merlin, whatever you're doing, stop it. That's bloody annoying." The tapping continued. Arthur groaned and shoved his head into the pillow. The light was hitting his cheeks in a very annoying way…
Why was there light? The sun came up late, it was winter. There shouldn't have been light when he woke up. Arthur blinked and raised his head.
The tapping noise was coming from his door. Someone was tapping. Someone who was not Merlin, because Merlin not only didn't bother with knocking, but would've been making excuses about his lateness right now.
Arthur pushed himself out of bed and took four leaps across the room to yank open the door.
"Where's Merlin?" It only occurred to him that it was Gwen once she'd had the time to look a bit offended. "Right. Hello. Where's Merlin?"
"He's with Gaius."
"Is he hurt?" Gwen frowned at him. Arthur sulkily went silent. Gwen took a deep breath.
"No, not yet. But he can't perform his duties to you." Arthur opened his mouth to tell her to stop being cryptic and tell him what was going on. "Oh, Arthur, it happened tonight. There's sickness. It's like it popped out of nowhere, and now Gaius's chambers are full of sick men and women!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He told Lancelot that no one who wasn't ill should go to Gaius's chambers."
"And Merlin is in there?" Arthur demanded. He was about to stride down the corridor and demand for Merlin to stop working there at once when the implications sunk in. "He's infected?"
"Oh, no! No, no!" Gwen said hastily. "At least, not that I know. But he's functioning as Gaius's assistant, so he was exposed and Gaius as well."
"But, he can't be-" Arthur cut himself off. Merlin originally came to Camelot to help Gaius anyway, and he certainly used the excuse of gathering herbs often. It was logical for Merlin to help Gaius. "Fine. How many sick?"
"I don't know. At least enough to fill Gaius's chambers." Arthur calculated. That could be a lot of people. "I thought I could help you. You know, since Merlin isn't here. To help. Or anything."
"Tell Sir Leon, no, don't do that." Arthur reminded himself that he couldn't send Gwen carrying his orders to the knights. It would be improper, and Gwen didn't have the same authority Merlin did. Not that Merlin had authority, but he sort of did, in an inexplicable way. "Find the knights. Tell them to report to the throne room."
"I will." Gwen rushed down the corridor. Arthur closed his door.
Arthur held council with the knights.
"We have to quarantine the upper levels of the palace. Gaius already took in the sick, so we cannot keep the citadel untainted, but ensure that none of the nobles come into proximity." Arthur could feel Gwaine's dark glare. "Leon, you do that."
"And for actually helping people?" Gwaine asked acerbically.
"Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine each can take a third of the lower town. Tally how many are sick, and how severely. We follow Merlin's instructions-don't get too close. Percival, you ride out to the farms around Camelot and see how many of the other peasants have this disease. I'm going to talk to Gaius and see how severe this is." The knights dispersed, though not before Gwaine had time to mutter something in a concerned voice to Lancelot. "Gwaine, Lancelot. Stay."
"Yes Arthur?" Lancelot said. Arthur glanced between them both.
"What were you talking about?"
"I've seen this." Gwaine said. "It's the most common disease in the lower classes during winter." Gwaine looked worried. "It infects the lungs, the throat. The victims cough and cough. There are swellings in the armpits, the groin. It wreaked havoc on the people in cold homes, and the young or old. The years it hit…" Gwaine's eyes were very distant. "They buried the bodies of half the children in the village."
"I know of it." Lancelot added. "There are worse forms." He shivered. "Sometimes everything the infected owned had to be burned. Clothing, houses, beds. Even their ashes were never touched."
It was so helpful to have commoner knights. Even if they didn't have anything but bad news.
"I must speak with Gaius." Arthur murmured. "You two, do you have experience treating this disease?"
Lancelot merely shook his head. Gwaine snorted in disgust. "Never."
"Arthur!" Merlin was the first person Arthur saw. Arthur was standing a few feet from the door, peering into the room of sick people. Merlin trotted to the door. "What's going on?"
"You mean other than this?" Arthur made an all encompassing gesture toward the room. There was a loud moan from within. "How are things?"
"Not as bad as they could be." Merlin somehow smiled. "There's a fairly low percentage of people who have it."
"What exactly is it?" Arthur inquired. There was another moan from within the chambers, and a rattle of breath. Merlin glanced over his shoulder.
"Respiratory, mostly. There's fever, and coughing, and many of them can't hold food down, but so far only a few have died." Merlin looked sober as he said it. "Are there more cases in the lower town?"
"Yes." Arthur said in a low voice. "Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine have reported that there are at least a hundred sick."
"That's not so bad then." Merlin looked relieved. "We can treat a hundred people."
"What's the treatment?" Arthur asked. "What do you need?"
"Mostly? Warmth." Merlin smiled sheepishly. "The disease is a bit like a bad cold. We call it the Cough. And no, nothing magic about it."
Arthur smiled just a bit. "First thing my father would ask wasn't it?"
"Yes. Once I had to explain that the reason a man's leg was crushed was because he'd been run over by a carriage, then explain that the carriage hadn't been manipulated by any magic energies. Just a badly trained horse." Arthur's mouth twitched up despite himself. "Looked a bit like your horse, really."
"Hey!" Arthur scowled at Merlin. "He isn't badly trained, he's spirited! There's a difference."
"No, both are polite words that mean it won't behave." Merlin flashed him a grin. "And would take pleasure in running a man over with a cart, in your horse's case."
"Shut up Merlin." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Those poor patients, relying on your idiocy to heal them."
"Hey! You know, the amount of times you've ended up wounded under my care isn't exactly small!" Merlin said indignantly. Arthur waved those times away.
"These patients don't have my manly constitution. Take good care of them." Merlin smiled affectionately.
"Will do. Go about your prattly duties."
Reports the next day suggested that Merlin and Gaius, for all their skills, were in over their heads. Various guards reported that people were falling sick, and dropping dead, all over Camelot. Arthur listened in horror as a guard relayed the symptoms.
"They could barely breathe your highness. Men sounded like they were hacking up their very lungs, and some the stuff they spat from their mouths may have been. The swellings were enormous." The guard's face twisted in disgust. "There are troops afraid to leave the citadel."
"They need not then." Arthur thought quickly. "Seal off the gates. Anyone willing should go to Gaius, to receive instruction on how to tend to the sick. But no one who is afraid for their lives need go."
"Yes sir." Arthur watched the troops leave. It looked as though a good amount were turning towards Gaius's chambers. He caught a glimpse of several scarlet capes among them.
Gwaine however, was not among that number. The knight had turned in the opposite direction. Arthur frowned.
Gwaine was a good knight. He was strong, well fed, and fearless. Not the type of man Arthur thought would abandon the sick to their deaths. Arthur hadn't picked knights like that.
Of course, he wasn't going to be helping tend any injured either. That very morning a terrified Gwen had informed him that he wasn't to come within twenty feet of Gaius's door. She'd gotten the message from another maid, whose mother was dying in the room, despite all the treatment Merlin and Gaius could give. Arthur was to stay very firmly away for fear of the crown prince being infected.
He climbed the steps to the battlements instead and watched the volunteers head from Gaius's chambers. He could see Lancelot's scarlet cloak fluttering next to an easily identifiable girl in a shawl. Arthur watched them, analyzing each movement.
Gwen's hand on Lancelot's arm. Well, she might just be trying to keep her balance on the slippery road. Lancelot's way of leaning close to her as she walked, as if he was genuinely listening to what she said.
Arthur didn't know what Gwen could possibly be saying that was so enthralling. He half hoped that they'd separate once they reached the lower town, but no. Lancelot and Gwen went into the same street, swinging their baskets of supplies as if out on a country romp instead of going to care for a plague infested city. Arthur scowled.
No one should be that happy when under stress.
Someone is being an ickle paranoid dollop head. Arthur gritted his teeth. Merlin was invading his mind. Great.
He wished Merlin was around. It was awfully lonely to be standing so high and have no one around to make stupid comments. That train of thought led to the fact that Merlin was wherever the disease was worst and wasn't that an unpleasant thought.
Merlin couldn't fall ill. Merlin never got sick. Not in all the time he'd known him had Merlin been sick, and he'd sat at the side of his plague ridden mother's bed. Probably Merlin had been exposed the disease in Ealdor, and built up an immunity.
Sure. There was no reason for Arthur to feel so afraid.
Merlin wiped his forehead and bit back an angry shriek. That was the fifth man he'd been tending today that died. The peasant's face was more peaceful in death than it had been in the last hours of life-pale and moist, with bloodstained lips open and eyes staring at the ceiling. A few minutes ago he'd been moaning.
Merlin closed the man's eyes. He'd become very adept at that skill, with Gaius having no time to spare as he moved from patient to patient, doing the best he could to lessen each human's pain before dying.
The disease was not one Gaius could cure. Merlin turned up the man's sheets and covered him. It was the most he had time to do.
"Percival?" Percival had proven to be invaluable. With his constitution, the man was one of the least susceptible to sickness. The knight stood watch outside the door. Merlin had put him there half to make sure Arthur didn't enter, and half for a less pleasant task. "His name was Bryant."
Percival came into the room and picked up the dead man. Merlin had a whole new respect for the brawny young man-he hadn't flinched when offered the gruesome task of transporting the dead to the cart resting just outside the citadel. The bodies would be transported to a pyre outside the city walls at sunset.
The knight had another invaluable talent, one Merlin blessed him for. The relatives of the sick who crowded around the outer walls were desperate for news of their loved ones. Percival could be counted on to break the news to families with surprising gentleness.
It saved Merlin the task of greeting the mobs. There were many families to whom he would need to deliver the news himself-Gaius was too old to tramp all over town looking for them, if it wasn't for his steady diet and good health, he would probably be one of the infected. It was still a relief to not be running outside to deliver death news then ducking inside only to find another dead.
"Merlin! Get over here with some of the elixir." Merlin picked up a vial and trotted to Gaius. The elixir was really only a potent mix of herbs to treat the symptoms, nothing for the disease itself.
"We're nearly out." Gaius glared at him. However patient Gaius could be with his terrified invalids, having men drop like flies made him short tempered.
"Well what d'you expect me to do? I'm busy!" Merlin hesitated. Gaius was, despite his endurance, old. He would need rest.
"You can go make more. I'll take care of things here." Gaius shook his head.
"I'm grateful for the offer, but there's too much to do. We need more people." Merlin went over the roster of knights. It was a skill he'd picked up from being around Arthur.
Lancelot was with Gwen helping in the lower town. Elyan was as well. Percival was already helping, though perhaps they could use him more. Leon was keeping panic from spreading.
Gwaine! No, Gwaine hadn't been among the volunteers. Gwaine seemed to have problems with plagues. Merlin was doubtful about his ability to persuade him into the force.
"I'll figure something out. We need more of that, or there won't be anything we can do for them." Gaius saw the sense in that. The elderly physician sat down on a stack of books and began mixing plants. The desk and tables had already been converted to beds.
Merlin splashed his hands in a bowl of water and went to the door to look for Percival.
"Percival! Can you handle things here?" Percival nodded.
"What do I do?" He was a man of few words, was Percival. Merlin gestured to the vials of Vitae, their treatment.
"Put a few drops in the thin broth, and feed that to the stronger people, you can see them by their higher color. Mix in some honey if they keep down more than a few spoonfuls." Merlin wracked his brain. "Keep the fire stoked high and if anyone thrashes and throws off their blankets, replace them. Wipe their foreheads with a cool cloth."
"All of them?" Merlin smiled grimly.
"All of them. I'll be back as soon as I can be, but we need firewood and a few other herbs." They also had to empty the bedpans, get the new sheets, grab more of the broth, and find extra hands. Everyone seemed to have someone sick who needed tending.
Merlin hurried through the palace. He wasn't sick himself. As a non human, the plague couldn't touch him. Just one more distinction that came of being a Dragonlord.
"Gwaine!" Aha. His instincts led him to the right place after all. Gwaine was skulking in a corner by the scullery maid's rooms. The knight had probably gotten used to hanging around there for the loose maids. Now it was deserted. The kitchens needed all the help they could find, even chattering maids. "I need a favor."
"Merlin, I'm not going into those plague infested streets. Not even for you." Merlin shook his head.
"I know that. But I need firewood, and you're stronger than I am. You can deliver it to Percival and never need set foot inside my rooms." Merlin said quickly. "Please, Gwaine."
"I'll get to it." Gwaine did an about face and headed for the woodpiles behind the castle. Merlin didn't stay to watch him leave. He was too busy.
One trip down to the kitchens and Merlin was back inside the room. Percival had done an able job. Merlin sent the knight outside to wait for Gwaine and went to the side of a man entering death throes. His rattling moans echoed down the corridor.
Arthur stalked from one side of his room to the other. He was useless. All Arthur could do was watch bodies pile up. It was all the more galling that this was natural. No sorcerer he could hunt down and behead, or any aquatic creature to burn. Just plague.
Not only that, but he was corralled in his quarters like some misbehaving child!
There was a series of sharp knocks on his door. Arthur strode to it, hoping that someone had a task for him that involved actual action. Even shoveling the stables was preferable to walking in circles around his room.
"Yes, what is it?" Gwen flung herself at his chest, sobbing. Arthur blinked down at her, then remembered to put an arm around her shoulders.
"There, there." Arthur shut the door and patted Gwen's back awkwardly. "What's wrong?"
"It's Lancelot!" Arthur stiffened. Gwen didn't notice, too busy soaking his shirt. "He's sick."
"Well, he was in the lower town…" Gwen withdrew to glare at him. Her eyes were bright with tears.
"You're horrid! Lancelot was sacrificing himself for your people, and all you can summon is an obvious explanation!" She broke down into fresh wails. "And now he may die!"
"Not necessarily…" Arthur stumbled over his words. "He's young and strong, he might shake it off…"
"That's no help!" Gwen pulled herself from under his arms. "You might as well say that it's only up to chance!"
"Well it probably is." Arthur said. At the sight of fresh glittering around Gwen's eyes he hastily revised his statement. "But if anyone can fight off a plague it's Lancelot. He wouldn't die now that he's finally a knight of Camelot."
"I hope not." Gwen sniffled. "Will you come see him?" Arthur nodded. "Thank you. I'm going to get Merlin." Gwen hurried away down the corridor.
Only a few hours later, Arthur thought that he would have been happy to stay in his chambers forever, rather than stand and watch this. Gwen was sitting by Lancelot's bed, tenderly stroking his forehead with a damp cloth. Arthur wondered if that was what devotion looked like.
"What are you doing mooning around here?" Gwaine interrupted his thoughts. Arthur never thought he would be grateful to hear that annoying voice. "You aren't helping anyone."
"Neither are you." Arthur snapped. He returned his look to Gwen. She never took her eyes off Lancelot. "Where've you been all this time?"
"Chopping firewood for Merlin."
"That's not very knightly." Arthur couldn't quite be angry with Gwaine. "I thought the actual healing rooms were understaffed."
"I don't like plague." Gwaine stared into the room, past Arthur. He was ignoring Gwen, focusing entirely on Lancelot. "You can't fight it. You can't decide who's struck down. Of all people, why him?"
"He was in the lower town all day." Gwaine shrugged.
"So was Gwen. So was Leon, and Elyan, and Percival was hauling dead bodies last I saw him." Arthur made a mental note to give Percival a bonus. "Hell, Merlin and Gaius have been being hacked on and breathing in the same air as the worst of the cases, and neither of them has even got a fever."
"Are you suggesting that it would be proper for Merlin to be sick?"
"No! I think Merlin keeps it away by sheer force of will." Gwaine rolled his eyes. "But Lancelot, of all people? He's so nice. It shouldn't be him on that bed."
Arthur scowled into the room. "Do I look like I'm arguing?" Gwen had moved from Lancelot's side to toss wood on the fire, but she was back to him the second he twitched.
"Why don't you do something, instead of skulking in the doorway?" Gwaine asked. Arthur gritted his teeth.
"I'm not allowed. I can't catch this." Gwaine snorted.
"You're not going to be protected just by being here. The only way to avoid plague is to get on a horse and gallop away like hell itself is on your tail."
"Then why haven't you?" Arthur watched Gwen feed Lancelot a bit of broth. He seemed to recognize her, even in his fevered state. "Since you fear it so much."
"I've got friends here. I can't just leave Merlin." Arthur sighed.
"Knightly duties amount to nothing?" Gwaine just shrugged. Arthur decided that the topic was pointless. Gwaine's loyalty notwithstanding, the man was necessary. There were few who could handle a blade like him, and Merlin trusted him. Merlin wouldn't trust anyone about to knife Arthur in his sleep.
Merlin could be uncanny that way.
"You really need to not hover in doorways that way." Arthur jumped violently. Merlin shot him a grin.
"Merlin?" Merlin ducked past him, carefully not touching him. "What are you doing here?"
"I've got Percival and a few maids helping Gaius. I had to check on Lancelot myself." Merlin looked troubled. "I can't do much for him."
"Nobody can." Arthur responded. He frowned at Merlin. "I can't have my servant blaming himself for the chances of fate."
"Whatever you say Arthur." Merlin paused. "Are you bored recently?"
"Yes." Arthur tried not to look too hopeful. "Please tell me I have overlooked a duty."
"Uther should be seen to." Merlin searched Arthur's face. "My clothing carries sickness, I daren't go so far into the citadel. He only needs to be fed, and the medicines to put in the dishes are in his room. I can clean his rooms later." Arthur shivered at the thought of going into that miserable tower and checking on his father.
But it was something to do. Uther did need care, and other than Merlin, Arthur couldn't think of anyone he'd trust to perform those duties.
Arthur balanced the tray on one hand as he fumbled with the bottles of medicines. They were all dark colors, and vaguely ominous.
"Father, are you awake?" Arthur heard rattling breathing, but no speaking. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "Are you…here?"
Nothing but harsh breath. Then, a spate of coughing. Arthur dropped the tray and ran to the bedside. He yanked aside the heavy curtain.
No.
Uther's face was clammy and covered in cold sweat. Froth specked with blood dribbled from his lips. As Arthur watched he coughed again, more bubbles rising from his lips.
"How did this happen!" Arthur paced around the corridor. Gaius and Merlin had both been summoned. Merlin touched the King's forehead, frowning as he felt the heat leaving Uther's body. "He's been nowhere near the victims!"
"Sire, this just happens. Perhaps there was a breeze, or one of the maids who prepared his food coughed on it." Gaius said. "What matters is his treatment."
"Oh, do you have a cure now?" Arthur asked angrily. Merlin stared at the floor as Arthur's gaze turned on him. "You can't have let this happen!"
"We had nothing to do with it Sire." Gaius said sharply. Merlin glanced up at Arthur, who now had nothing to vent his fury on. Merlin didn't like that. Fury built up in a person, until it poisoned all their thoughts and turned them dark. He'd seen that happen to one Pendragon. He'd felt it rise in him, when his own father died.
Merlin had an enemy to kill. Arthur had nothing but a sickness.
"We'll do all we can Arthur." He promised. Arthur glared at him in helpless fury.
"I hope so. If nothing is done, I'll take you and have you flogged. He was in your care, Merlin." Arthur whirled and stalked away, ignoring Gaius's incredulous stare.
"Merlin, that was completely out of line. Arthur won't do anything to you…" Gaius said unsteadily in Arthur's wake. Merlin barely noticed him. He was focused on his fingers on Uther's brow.
Arthur's father. The only thing standing between Arthur and the crown he should not have had to inherit so early. Arthur's father. Merlin breathed in, inhaling the air from Uther's lungs. He could taste the taint.
"Merlin, what are you doing?" Merlin turned to Gaius. Gold was already kindling in his eyes. "Merlin, no!"
"I have to do something! This is Arthur's father, we cannot stand by." Gaius stepped in and grabbed Merlin's arm. Merlin shook it free.
"Healing this is beyond your powers. You will only harm yourself trying!" Merlin ignored Gaius, trying to gather magic inside himself. He felt it rising, but what to focus it on? Nothing here to explode, no strike of lightning would smite this disease.
But magic might? Merlin bent his will to finding the words, for some way to drive the disease. It was too ingrained, too aggressive. But if he changed it, cauterized it with a blast of subtle power to bind disease to his magic then directed it at will, he might have it gone.
"Merlin, come away right now!" Now Gaius sounded afraid. Merlin could not imagine why. He felt the magic rumbling inside him, growing stronger with each pound of his racing heart.
"Gaius, quiet." Merlin murmured. His attention had left the plane Gaius could perceive. He blinked. On the inside of his eyelids, Merlin drew the patterns he needed to prod his magic down. Golden threads wove in his mind. When Merlin opened his eyes again, they were a brilliant gold. The glow of his pupils cast shadows on the walls, all leaping in a wild dance from time immemorial. The gold changed, flowing over his entire eye.
Merlin was no longer seeing with his eyes. He looked out with his magic, through a haze of gold that made everything clearer. With one hand that was not his hand, for his hand was cold on Uther's forehead and the other was resting innocently on his leg, he reached for the disease.
It bound itself to his magic without difficulty. All things would rush to be infused with this power of light. Merlin pulled the magic out, dragging the disease from every pore. Uther hacked again, but froth nor blood left his lips.
Merlin rose, still staring with gold plated eyeballs. Gaius pressed himself against the wall. His magic senses were few and gone stale, but they leapt up in response to Merlin. His magic leapt as if to bow at Merlin's feet.
Merlin stumbled, seeing the disease gone. It was just a tendril of grey along his gold, but there was so much more in Camelot. How could he save only Uther, as hundreds died? He must save them. Must.
"Merlin!" Gaius cried out. He felt the magic flame grow around Merlin. "You'll overreach yourself!" Merlin's magic did not deign to acknowledge this weak little man.
Magic surged. Merlin pulled it, turning the breezes that healed Uther into a hurricane. Invisible to the mortal eye, it whorled. All over Camelot, dogs howled and cats, who possess their own eerie magic, turned twitching whiskers to the palace. Dragons in distant lands pricked their ears and looked with far seeing eyes for what their lord might demand.
Pressure built. Merlin kept a hand on the magic, waiting for it to build. Once it reached pressure point, where the force to topple castles and turn tides could not be contained by one man, it raced out. A wave traveled over Camelot.
The power did not whisper through streets like a curse, nor slither into people through mouths and noses like foul enchantments. It glided through Camelot, passing through each person. The disease was stripped from the streets.
Lancelot opened his eyes, remembering only the disconcerting feeling of a warm breeze inside him. His first sight was Gwen's face. He smiled.
Disease and magic thundered together, sweeping though villages until finding the spot where Merlin unconsciously directed his energies. It was a deep ravine, where catacombs from long fallen cities still stood and dark creatures might lurk. They quailed as the magic disposed of the disease and, thus spent, dissipated. Many would marvel that winter at how flowers grew on frozen ground and ice crystals formed into strange but beautiful patterns.
The source fell to his knees. Gaius would rush to the side of the pale boy, but the magic inside him resisted. It was watching in awe at the swirling magic of Merlin, for he was not spent. Merlin's power had broken through some barrier in this effort, and freed yet more of the vortex within. Merlin tried only to reign himself in, to quiet the power that felt one act of greatness and eagerly jumped for another.
He blinked through the golden haze, quieting the magic. Merlin's eyes, as the gold receded only to his pupils, caught the last glimpse of his power's unconscious workings.
He saw Morgana.
She was dirty and unkempt, a worn cloak wrapped round her. The princess of Camelot huddled in the doorway of some inn, too ragged to garner entrance. None would accept her, for she held no money. Pawning her jewelry, Merlin saw, had not gotten her enough to live on. Morgause had taught her no ways to sustain life, only the ways of madness and death.
Now she miserably sat in the cold, praying to not freeze. Hunger gnawed at her, and already her dress was loose on her. Morgana was cast out of shelter and security.
Merlin's magic felt his thoughts and feelings. The sympathy, the desire to help that was so automatic he could do nothing to stop it. The dregs of his power rushed out to her over hill and dale, fixing the edges of her cloak and turning the wind from her. The door opened and an innkeeper suddenly caught by genuine sympathy gestured her inside, found himself saying that she could have her seat by the fire if she caused no trouble.
Then Merlin came back to himself. He opened his eyes with a shudder, and wished luck to Morgana. Gaius helped him to his feet, holding back opprobrium for sheer awe.
She never realized that had Merlin held any true hatred of her, she would have not survived that brush with magic.
"Merlin!" The magic worked with his body, but while it had no limits, he was shaking. "Here, we need to get you back to my chambers. There's much hot broth there."
"It's done. I cured them." Merlin stuttered out. Gaius nodded, letting the man fifty years his junior lean on him.
"I believe you did."
A/N: I'm going to send my chiropractor's bill to the readers. I spent way to much time hunched over a laptop writing this…
Also, I think plague would freak out Gwaine. Just the way his character...I dunno, likes to be free? But plague isn't anything you can properly fight, so...I don't know exactly why Gwaine doesn't like plague. But he doesn't. My story, my rules. :)