ONE MORE EPISODE.

Gah. Why must all good things come to an end when they're so...good?!

Oh well, FF will live on!

Nevertheless, the wait for this chapter was longer than expected because of tests and projects and all that jazz. (A's for Chem, English and Biology though, woop!)

Anyways, on with the show!

Arthur wasn't sure what exactly travelled through his mind as he plunged his sword deep within the man that had injured Merlin, just that they needed to get to safety.

"RETREAT!" Arthur ordered to his men, pulling Merlin's lifeless body up. He threw him over his shoulder, his sword still poised in his other hand. He ran, grunting at the extra weight. Merlin may be light – too light maybe – but he definitely wasn't helping.

Swinging his sword into a man and dodging another, he ran out of the clearing and into the thick forest. He ran until he was certain his heart was going to pound out of his chest and his shoulder felt as though it had become dislocated. No longer could he hear the battle, just the odd footsteps of reinforcements for the bandits. He hoped his knights had escaped the battle like he had and found refuge in some place safe. The night was cold and heavy storm clouds hung gloomily over the trees – it would be difficult to last the night with no shelter or blankets.

Arthur stumbled down a small hill, scanning the area. His eyes rested upon a small cave, disguised by moss and overgrown plants. He squinted, stepping closer to it. Glancing behind him to make sure he wasn't being followed he ducked into the cave.

It was dark and rocky, but it provided what they needed to keep them alive for the night. He hoped.

During their escape Merlin had groaned and blood had soaked through his shirt, his breathing gradually slowing and temperature rising. Arthur hadn't let his thoughts stray too far to the boy; afraid he would get distracted and stop wherever he was to check on him.

But now they were alone and safe Arthur lowered Merlin down, angling his head so it was elevated by a rock. He had no salve, no blankets and no help, and quite frankly Arthur felt at a loss as he evaluated the deteriorating condition of his manservant.

Arthur straightened out his thoughts, reminding himself that he had experience in battle wounds from previous knights meaning he would be able to do something to help Merlin.

He had to check the wound. He was pretty sure it had mostly stopped bleeding, however the paleness of his face and red soaked top proved how much blood had already been lost. He lifted Merlin's familiar neckerchief, swallowing as he eyed the wound through the tear that had been made whilst creating it.

Arthur frowned – this wasn't right. The cut was swollen and puffy, and Arthur knew this hadn't been caused by an ordinary sword. His hand moved to Merlin's brow, sweating and pale. Even before Arthurs hand had come in contact with his skin he had felt the heat radiating off of him.

"Oh Merlin…" Arthur sighed shaking his head. He lifted up Merlin's head and pulled off his neckerchief, using it as a make-shift bandage. Merlin groaned, mumbling something unintelligible under his weak breath. Arthur collapsed beside him, linking his hands on his bent knees.

He cocked his head slightly to Merlin once again, not being able to take his eyes off the boy. Droplets of sweat still ran down the side of his head but his body was racking with shivers. It was far too dark to collect fire wood, and he had left his cloak at the camp which could have been used for some warmth.

He swallowed, his dry throat reminding him how long he had been running. Reaching to his belt he pulled the waterskin out, uncapping it. Merlin coughed in his unsettled sleep, making him groan in pain. Arthur sighed – he couldn't drink this when Merlin was in so much more obvious need. He cupped the Warlock's chin, allowing the water to flow steadily into his mouth. Merlin frowned, spluttering. He closed his mouth, swallowing the liquid noisily. He made a low noise in the back of his throat – one Arthur could only explain was out of pain or the relief of lubricating his throat – before he opened his mouth again, greedy for more. Arthur obeyed, ignoring the fact that this was completely the wrong way round. When only a few droplets of water remained Arthur had to refuse giving anymore to the desperate boy in need. He needed some to last the night in case of emergencies, but as soon as it was first light they would travel back to Camelot and find a stream or river to hydrate.

Merlin on the other hand did not agree with this plan. His eyes blinked open hazily, desperate for more fluid. He weakly reached up to Arthur's hand, silently begging he give it to him. "No Merlin, we have to save some." The King ordered, gently placing his hand back down on the dirt. Merlin looked lost at Arthur, eyes pleading. Arthur ignored the look. "How are you feeling? I think the blade was poisoned." Arthur said seriously.

He had expected Merlin to widen his eyes in surprise, begin to panic about Arthur's revelation. Instead he just lay there still, fighting the exhaustion that was overwhelming every part of him. He tried to speak but couldn't seem to get any sound out. He scowled at himself, angry he couldn't get his words out; he didn't want to appear any weaker in front of Arthur. He tried to clear his throat which soon erupted into him coughing.

"So do I." He croaked his voice frail and quiet and tender after the severe fit. "Is it bad?" He didn't need to explain to Arthur what he was talking about.

"I've seen worse." Arthur lied. "You'll be up and scrubbing my boots in no time Merlin, you don't have to worry about that." Arthur attempted to joke, trying to make light of a dark situation.

Merlin tried to laugh, but it sent jolts of agony along his shoulder and into his chest. "Ah…" He arched his back, his teeth gritting tightly together in an attempt to control his breathing. Arthur eyed Merlin warily, unsure what to do as he watched his jaw clench and unclench repeatedly.

"Can I err," Arthur cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the situation. It was wrong for him to see Merlin like this, and he had no idea what to do. "Get you anything? You know…for the pain."

Once Merlin had regained some of his composure he regarded Arthur with grateful eyes. He may not be the most…sympathetic person, but he did care – even if he didn't always show it in the most appropriate ways. "No Sire." Merlin breathed. He wouldn't even know what he wanted. He just knew he needed a cure – he could feel the poison snaking its way through his body, setting his brow on fire and making his body burn inside-out.

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the formalities Merlin chose to use. How could he use such language at a time like this, but not when it's publicly needed? "We'll travel to Camelot tomorrow; Gaius will know what to do. For now, sleep Merlin. Tomorrow I'll expect you to be back to your incompetent self." Arthur reassured, briefly placing a brotherly reassuring hand on his uninjured shoulder. He settled down again, this time lying on the dirt.

For a moment the boys laid in a comfortable silence, the only noise being Merlin's struggled breathing. Merlin had so many things to say, he just couldn't seem able to form the words nor energy to express them. The pain searing through him was nearly unbearable, but he couldn't show how hurt he really was; it would worry Arthur, and right now that was the last thing both of them needed if they wished to return to Camelot alive. All Arthur needed was to return safely – he definitely didn't need to be worrying about his servant. Merlin took a breath. "You should have left me Arthur."

This time Arthur did roll his eyes. He really didn't appreciate it when Merlin tried to act heroic. "Don't be ridiculous Merlin. You can't seriously expect me to return to Camelot with the burden of having to train a capable servant."

Merlin sighed, but regretted the action when it sent a surge of unwanted pain through his body, causing him to wince. He gingerly rested his left hand on the wound as if to protect it from the elements. "I'm serious."

Arthur shuffled, turning his head so he could look at him. "So am I Merlin." He said, his voice low with seriousness and honesty. So he may have been slightly joking earlier, but he wasn't yet prepared to tell Merlin how much he valued his company (mostly) and the way he gave him reality checks that everyone else seemed to cower from. He valued Merlin much more than he should, but he knew that had always been the case and acknowledged that proudly in his head, strong willed in the fact that that wouldn't change. After all, when Camelot had homed a traitor intent on killing him, he knew that Merlin was the only person he could trust.

He trusted Merlin with his life, and he hoped Merlin did the same. At least he should.

Another silence.

"…Thank you Arthur." Merlin whispered, not having the strength to truly begin to tell his King – his friend – how grateful he was. "I owe you my life."

Arthur sat up so he was rested upon his elbows, hearing the sincerity behind the pain. "You'd do the same for me." Arthur said looking at the floor, not disbelieving that for a second.

Merlin looked up at the cave ceiling, wincing in pain. Arthur had no idea of the poison that was consuming his manservant, but he knew it was killing him slowly. The wound was infected and Merlin was far too undernourished and weak to fight it for long. Arthur had underestimated Merlin in the past, and now was not the time to be doing the same. Merlin was stronger than what he let on - Arthur knew that much. But was he strong enough to continue to fight a poison of this force? Arthur hoped so.

"Rest Merlin, tomorrow will be better."

Merlin swallowed, shuffling uncomfortably. Arthur was right…for once. "Night Arthur." Merlin murmured, falling into a deep slumber almost instantly.

"…Goodnight Merlin."

Just saying, I think this story will be 6 chapters. :)

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MERRY CHRISTMAS!