Overcrowded
Full Summary: When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.
Disclaimer: If I said I owned it, I'd be lying.
Note: This is my second Merlin story—the first some of you may have already read. (Stone Circle). Both are (obviously) incomplete, and right now...I've got about three others to update (excluding these two). So bear with me, I'm surprised I even updated now. Damn you, homework.
WHEN: Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice
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Chapter Three
"Water." The man whispered, his voice hoarse. "I need water."
He rushed to one of the only available surfaces left, and starting picking up vials and beakers, examining the contents and slamming them back down when proved not drinkable. With carelessness brought stupidity—his violent movements caused the liquids to escape their containers, in some cases the whole glass falling to the floor and scattering shards everywhere. A bright red substance hit the table, a blue one immediately following. Upon contact with each other, the table started to smoke.
Merlin shouted, taking out another vial and pouring its contents onto the smoke, which immediately subsided. Gwen and Morgana grabbed hold of both the man's arms, and Merlin began mopping up the mess with a rag. "What were you thinking?" He glared at the man, exhaustion and stress lacing every word.
"Water." Came the reply.
Merlin slowly stood, dropping the rag to find some water to give him. Upon his return the man broke free of Gwen's grip, snatched the bowl out of Merlin's hands and poured the water into his mouth. "Thank the Gods. Another moment and I'd have perished."
"No, another moment and we'd have been spared the mess." Merlin muttered.
The man held out the bowl expectantly. "I'm here on official business." He said, wrenching his arm out of Morgana's hands. "I need to see the king..." He coughed, and a dribble of blood escaped a corner of his mouth. "But I had to have water first. Speaking of which..." He looked at the bowl and up at Merlin again. The blood, however, had not escaped Merlin's notice, and he handed the bowl to Gwen to refill.
"Truthfully, I couldn't care less if you were a prince himself—I don't need another anyway. What I do know is that you're injured..." He studied the man carefully, who was hunched over slightly. "...and that you're not leaving this room until I say so. Let's have a look at your ribs."
"But-" The man started to protest, wincing in pain.
"-But of course! You're brilliant, you really are. I should definitely be resting with a—ooh look, a knife wound in my chest, and dehydration to boot." Merlin finished for him, picking up one of the shards of glass and using it to cut open the man's clothes. A long, deep cut ran between two ribs. Merlin sat the man down on the floor, and started rummaging through Gaius's supplies.
Gwen knelt down by the man, having refilled the bowl. She dipped a rag into the water and started to gently clean the man's wound, murmuring "Sorry," each time he flinched. "What's your name?" She asked.
"Allister." He said. "Allister of Daira."
"Of Daira?" Merlin asked curiously, bringing with Morgana several vials and bandages. "We haven't had a problem with Daira as far as I know. What's wrong?"
"That...I must convey to the king." Allister said, looking away.
"If you're of noble birth, why are you dressed in peasant clothes?" Morgana asked, fingering his tattered cloak.
"The path between our two kingdoms is often fraught with thieves. It is only natural to assume that they would attack those with elaborate dress."
Merlin gently dampened a cloth with a dark green potion, and pressed it against Allister's wound. Allister hissed. "Had to be done." Merlin said wearily. "But surely they wouldn't send a nobleman when a messenger could do. Surely your father'd forbid such a thing..."
"The Count Dolxton is too immersed in his duties to the royal household to worry about his offspring." Allister answered dryly.
Morgana looked at him in sudden sympathy. "You're a younger son, aren't you?"
Allister nodded his response, tensing as Merlin finished up bandaging his wound.
"And you wanted to prove yourself." Morgana continued softly.
Allister glared at her. "This message...to King Uther...would only be believed coming from...one of noble heritage." He coughed, and Gwen dabbed at the blood trickling down his chin.
"That message will have to wait, unless you wish me to inform the king of your presence..." Merlin said firmly. "Right. Where can we put you...?" He lifted Allister up as best he could, and propped him up against a table leg. "This will have to do." He headed toward a small crate stuffed under Gaius's bed and pulled out his own blanket. "Hopefully this'll keep you warm. But first...what sorta weapons d'you carry?"
Allister looked up at him suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"
Merlin rolled his eyes. "One of the aristocracy wouldn't head down a bandit infested road without protection. ...A dagger, perhaps?"
The man looked down at his cloak, under which Merlin assumed was the dagger. "Yes." He said softly. "They stole my sword. That's how I got the knife wound."
"You have our sympathies." Morgana said sincerely, as Merlin placed the blanket over Allister.
Merlin held back a yawn, picking up the sleeping draught that Morgana had never received. "Here you go, Morgana." He held it up. "Sweet dreams. Thank you—both of you, for helping me with Allister."
Morgana accepted the drink gratefully, and Gwen smiled good-bye to Merlin. They left, shutting the door behind them.
"But the message—the King needs to be informed-!" Allister said, fighting sleep.
"-can wait until morning. Uther Pendragon does not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night." Merlin sighed apologetically. "Now go to sleep."
It didn't take very long for Allister to do so—he had been severely dehydrated, and with a wound, his body clamored for rest. Merlin watched as Allister's head slowly lowered down, until his chin nearly met his chest. Merlin smiled at the sight, and knelt on the floor, cleaning up the rest of the glass and liquid Allister had spilled earlier.
Morgana sat on her bed, swallowing the remains of her sleeping draft. The taste was a pleasant surprise—Gaius's was usually bitter, Merlin's was sweeter. She handed the cup back to Gwen. "Would you sleep in the antechamber tonight, Gwen?" She asked hesitantly. "It's far too late for a lady to walk back through town..." They both shuddered. There had been a recent report of a group of men down in the villages, who at night would roam the streets, ready to take advantage of any lone lady they saw.
"Of course, milady..." Gwen furrowed her brow. "Tsk. We should have asked for Allister's message—perhaps you could have awoken his Majesty..." She trailed off, heading for the door.
"Where are you going?" Morgana questioned anxiously.
"I'll just give this back to Merlin and ask for the message. It won't take long, milady." Gwen replied, and exited the chambers.
Gwen hurried down the halls, the cup clutched in her hand. It would be a shame if she had to arouse Allister for the message. He dearly required sleep. Then again, Merlin did too—he was too pale these days, and the dark bags under his eyes only enhanced it. Yes, she'd make him fall asleep too, she would.
She tripped, dropping the cup as the ground shook beneath her. Terrified, Gwen looked around—dust and small pebbles were falling from the ceiling. Forgetting the cup, she stood and ran for a little alcove, which harbored a statue of a knight. Ducking behind the figure, she watched in horror as the whole hallway began collapsing, the ceiling caving in and the pillars tumbling to the ground...and soon, very soon, her world was cast in darkness as her only means of escape was blocked by the falling stone.
Morgana screamed, sitting upright in her bed as there came a loud rumbling, her window panes shaking in their frames. She grabbed a cloak and drew it about her as she ran into the hallway, shouting for the guards. Two of them ran to join her, waving their spears about in a panic. "Wha' is that?" One of them asked in fear.
"I dunno, can't even tell where it's coming from. You'd best stay here, milady." The other advised her, looking shaken.
But the shaking stopped moments after his opinion, and she covered her mouth as the reality sank in. "Gwen!" She raced down the hallway, elegance be damned, to find her handmaiden, and her friend.
The three of them—the guards and Morgana, reached a long stretch of the corridor completely blocked by debris. It was the fastest way to reach Merlin, Morgana realized, and Gwen would surely have taken it. "Gwen?" She called fearfully. "Gwen!" There was no reply. She turned to the guards. "How far does this destruction go?" She pleaded for an answer, any answer she knew they did not possess.
"I can't tell from here," one guard admitted.
Morgana bent down, and lifted up a small rock. "We've got to clear it all away!" She cried. "Join me, we must clear it away!"
The guards looked at each other. People were already exiting doorways, some clutching blankets to their chests, others crying in fright, others drawing their swords. They could not persuade Morgana by words, they knew, and physical force was generally disapproved of by the king. Seeing no other choise to dissuade her, they knelt beside her and began picking up fallen stone. Other guards rushed to the scene, shouting in dismay or shock, others throwing their helmets to the ground in realization that several people were trapped behind their doors, and that it would take several days, perhaps weeks, to dig them out...
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I'm again, so sorry it took so long to update! This chapter may not live up to Chapter One—or Two, but I hope it makes up for the long lack of updates for this story...