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: I am certain I almost do not perhaps own this.

Note: Oh. Hey. Seven...months since the last update. Damn. I have excuses! Granted, they probably mean nothing to you (damn). The big one is school and extracurriculars. A while back, I performed in Shakespeare's All's Well that End's Well as Lavatch the Clown, and the schedule was monstrous—during hell week I arrived home past 10:00. Well, now that the play is over, I find myself with a lot more time to feel guilty about various fanfiction stories I haven't updated. (Also, I recently sang in an all-state chorus. And yesterday turned in a research paper for English. And...)

-At the time I write this, Overcrowded is my most popular story on this site, with 99 alerts, 26 favorites, is in two communities and has 39 reviews (okay, so Stone Circle beats it out with 44, but still). Jeez. 96 individuals like my story enough to subscribe to it. My guilt complex is huge. I WILL update, dammit. If it's the last thing I do-

Seriously though, I promised I wouldn't leave it seven months and I feel really terrible about it...

WHEN: Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::merlin::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Haspin Turek of Mercia tensed, pressing his back against the pillar while reaching for a dagger. Guards ran past his hiding space, most likely heading for excavation tools—they were leaving from the direction of the destroyed hallway, after all. Haspin relaxed once they were out of earshot, and resumed searching for Uther.

Uther Pendragon. Haspin hated him passionately, having known peasants subject to his tyranny. The king claimed he cared about the people of the villages, yet let them starve when they asked for aid, let them die when under attack—this was a good king? Haspin gritted his teeth. The man would have to die. If his son put up a resistance, he might have to go too. Haspin wasn't terribly concerned about the fate of Prince Arthur. He had a reputation for being a bully, and for the most part seemed to be shaped just like his father. If that was the case...

Voices ahead. Haspin slowed, and caught the arm of a nearby servant. She seemed to be fetching water for the diggers, clutching at her serving pitcher—wide-eyed and pale. "Excuse me," Haspin murmured. "But where can I find his majesty?"

"B-back there." The maid stammered. "Overseeing the rescue. I wouldn't bother him, if I were you. He's nearly mad with worry..."

Haspin suppressed a laugh. Uther was already mad, didn't she know? He let the girl continue on her way, already peering about the corner. Uther was easily spotted, his clean, brightly-colored clothes contrasted greatly with the grime-coated men. And even if Uther had been wearing the shabbiest, dirtiest clothes in the world he still would stand apart from the others—literally. He watched the workers from a small distance away, his hands on his hips. Haspin sneered at the man. If he really did care so much, then why wasn't he helping to dig?

Reaching into his bag, Haspin quickly found what he was looking for. It was a small weapon, yet the darts it held were deadly. He had a whole range of darts, coated in a whole range of poisons and other deadly concoctions. Some were fatal diseases, others slow-enacting torture. Haspin opted for a fast-acting poison. He couldn't really understand the fascination some had with drawn out torture. It was risky—it just gave the target's associates more time to rescue him.

He put the weapon to his lips, breathing in deeply. Three...two...one...

Haspin gasped involuntarily as the same serving girl from before bumped into him, balancing a tray of pitchers on either hand.

"Sorry!"

Uther suddenly strode out of view. Haspin calmly tucked his dart-blower back into his bag. No matter. Besides, he might haven't had such an easy time of escaping had Uther actually been hit.

Haspin withdrew further into the shadows, and began to plot.

:::Merlin:::::POV:::::::::

Merlin tensed, his hand clenched tightly on the handle of the door. Gods, Arthur was insufferable. Shuffling forward, he breathed in deeply, attempting to calm himself. The action backfired, and he coughed harshly. Once, twice, until it was a coughing fit. Each cough rattled him thoroughly, his muscles shaking to the point that he accidentally jerked the door back an inch.

That stopped the fit quick. Merlin clutched the handle tightly, and peered around the door.

Merlin immediately shut the door again, throwing himself against it for good caution.

"Arthur," he shouted, "I can safely say that without a doubt, we are trapped inside here."

He heard a thump from his bedroom, presumably Arthur had hit the wall with his good hand.

"What did you see?" Gaius inquired, peering at Merlin from his bed.

"Rocks." Merlin hiccoughed, running a hand through his hair. "Lots of...rocks."

"Really?"

Merlin nodded, sitting on the stool next to Gaius's bed. "Yeah. The whole doorway's blocked."

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "...Gaius, our supply of food was low to begin with. If we ration it really strictly, I suppose we have a week's worth, tops." Merlin sighed. "Strictly as in: The strongest skip some meals entirely while the weaker eat a few mouthfuls worth every other day."

Gaius frowned. "I daresay you'll have to be careful, Merlin. Especially with your magic, there are too many witnesses for you to risk anything."

"And," he added, his gaze softening, "especially with yourself. You're looking awfully tired, my boy."

Merlin scrubbed at his face, and let his head rest in his hands for a moment. "I can't just endanger my patients' lives for the sake of a few nightmares, Gaius. Besides, I'll have a drunkard to help me—once he wakes up, that is."

Merlin abruptly stood, hearing Beth stir on the table. Once satisfied that she was sleeping and not in any immediate need of attention, he entered his chambers, managing a half-hearted smile as Arthur began to interrogate him.

"You're absolutely sure that we're sealed off?"

Merlin shot Arthur an irritated look.

"Alright, stupid question." Arthur conceded. "But don't worry, I'm sure we'll be dug out in no time at all."

Merlin stared at him. "Arthur, how long would you say is 'no time at all'?"

Arthur hesitated. "A few days, maybe?"

Merlin eyed him warily. "It's a rather long corridor."

"So?" Arthur snapped. "My father's probably doing whatever it takes to get me out. I wouldn't be surprised if he had every guard in the place clearing away the wreckage."

Merlin said nothing.

"What? You think otherwise? Tell me, Merlin, what does a servant know about the workings of Camelot?" Arthur sneered, unconsciously attempting to alleviate his own fear.

"Arthur, the king of Mercia was residing in our cells just a little whiles ago. We held him at swordpoint! No matter what the circumstances were, Mercia isn't likely to forgive us anytime soon. Uther would be mad if he didn't have men on sentry alert. And what about that 'earthquake'? Uther's smart, he should have already realized that no ordinary earthquake could fell the castle so easily. Knowing the king, he's already blamed magic as the source, and will need men to investigate and defend Camelot. It's going to take longer than 'just a few days', Arthur. And guess what!" He shouted the last bit, his frustration getting the better of him, "We've barely got enough food to last a week! And that's if people like you and I don't eat half the time!"

Merlin faltered, his strength leaving him. He leaned against his wardrobe, swallowing.

The room was quiet for several moments. Finally, Arthur spoke, not quite meeting Merlin's eyes. "You're right, Merlin. I..." A pause. "...I'm sorry. I didn't want to believe it."

The prince smiled mirthlessly. "Imagine, being stuck in my servants chambers for Gods knows how long. I'm sure I'll go mad."

"Yeah." Merlin murmured, matching Arthur's expression. "Me too."

He nodded jerkily towards Arthur, and left the room as fast as possible, needing to be alone. The feeling of helplessness was more prevalent than before. He'd just laid bare the cruel reality to Arthur, after all. In doing so, all traces of optimism had vanished from Merlin's mind. He coughed, once, twice, and suppressed the third. The dust from the incident still hadn't settled, then. With a sigh, Merlin set about redressing Lander's injuries, consoling himself with the fact that things couldn't possibly get any worse.

:::::mer::::::::lin::::::::

Uther realized that he had a bit of a dilemma on his hands.

Part of him wanted very badly to have everyone working to clear the rubble away. Yet his very noble blood practically screamed at him that the emotional side of him was not to be given higher priority than the kingdom. And as always, the regent won the conflict. Uther had managed to retrieve a few knights by this point, and proceeded to give them clear orders, which they were to repeat and carry through. The orders would transfer many men to sentry and patrol duties, so as to protect Camelot from both the Roc and Mercia, should either attack again.

The amount of guards left to clear the wreckage was decidedly smaller than before, and Uther sent the knights out again to recruit peasants and servants for the job.

Besides, his son would be fine. ...If Gaius's ceiling hadn't caved in, of course.

::::Merlin::::

Gwen shivered, brushing a couple of spiders off her apron as she rubbed her arms. It was cold in the alcove, the stone's icy temperature seeping into her skin. Her stomach grumbled, and for a moment she was tempted to just eat the stale bread and be done with it. No. Gwen thought. She just had to hold on for a few days, and all would be fine. It had to be.

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I realize not much happened in this chapter. I apologize. I really wanted to just have an update for it, if nothing else.