DISCLAIMER:
As you possibly would have already guessed, I do not own Merlin – and I also can't guarantee that our boys will be returned unharmed. I like whump. Apparently we all do.
Warnings:
As specified in the disclaimer, there will be whump, and it may get quite descriptive.
Contains: Evil! Morgana, Evil! Mordred, Sick/Hurt! Merlin Worried! Arthur & Knights.
Features Arthur/Merlin bromance, but contains NO slash. Between ANYONE
Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell
CHAPTER ONE
'Wake up, you royal arse,' Merlin called cheerily as he pulled the deep red curtains aside, filling the dark stone chamber with bright sunshine.
Arthur moaned grumpily and rolled fitfully onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow to evade the offending light.
'You do remember that I am the king, right, Merlin?' he enquired, his muffled tone enunciating the first syllable of his servants name quite clearly, as he usually did when the disrespectful, bumbling idiot aggravated him.
'I do sire, that is why I addressed you as a royal arse,' the young warlock replied as he began to ready the Kings clothes for the day.
Arthur sat up, looking very much like an angry porcupine as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Merlin noted the King's dishevelled blonde mop and sniggered, barely avoiding the first airborne attack of the day.
'I will put you in the stocks for a week, you idiot,' Arthur warned, reaching for his breakfast tray and grasping a chunk of freshly baked bread.
'I'd like to see you try it Your Prattiness. Sir Gwaine would steal your keys and release me without a moment's hesitation if you did.'
Arthur rolled his bleary eyes, not doubting for a second that it was true. The man had had taken a shine to the boy, in the most annoying sense.
Knights of Camelot were supposed to be loyal and respect their King, but oh no. He had to go and officially knight the biggest rag-tag bunch of traitorous fiends humanly possible to serve at his side - the kind that called him princess and ruffled his hair when he got cranky. Despite behaviour his father would have executed over, Arthur had come to admit a growing fondness that his knights, who served well and fought hard, treated him as they would a great friend - as Merlin treated him.
The new King was snapped out of his reverie by a spindly, long fingered hand waving and clicking in his field of vision.
'Earth to Prat, I asked you a question,' Merlin stated, knocking Arthur gently on the head with a balled fist,
'Gods Merlin, what is it? Maybe I was just purposely ignoring your inane prattling, did that occur to you?' Arthur snapped.
'Not once sire, your food is still hovering by your mouth and you were dribbling like a fool,' the servant said with a shrug, holding out a different tunic in each hand. 'Which one, red or blue?'
'Neither, and don't change the subject. Find my black one,' Arthur responded, chewing the bread.
'Your black one is ripped, and I wasn't changing the subject, you looked like a clotpole, so the subject was closed anyway. No point in blathering when there are things to do,' Merlin shot back, throwing the red tunic in his king's face.
'My thoughts exactly, Merlin – you do have quite a bit to do today. You can start by polishing my armour before training. Now get out so I can eat in peace.' Arthur said, dismissing his servant.
'But who will dress ye sire?' Merlin replied mockingly, dodging the second projectile.
'Get out Merlin,'
The young man grinned as he backed from the room, but it fell from his face as soon as the heavy doors slammed shut. With a shaky sigh, Merlin rested his head against the stone, clutching his roiling stomach. He rested for only a second, before heading towards the Armoury.
As his door closed with a resounding thud, Arthur pulled his meal towards him, ready to devour it before dressing, but something caught his eye.
Tucked beneath the plate that held his food, was a small folded piece of yellowing paper, his name written in tiny, spidery letters on the front.
Carefully, so as not to rip the delicate note, he unfolded it and as his blue eyes flicked over the first line, a lump of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.
Dearest Brother,
I suppose you wonder now why I am bothering to write to you in secrecy. I can sense the dread emanating from you as you read and I revel in it.
This is a mere warning, Arthur, be glad you are even receiving this morsel.
I have a few that are still loyal to me in Camelot – and before you even bother looking – know now that they are well hidden and will not be found. They tell me of your attachment to the serving boy, Merlin.
Now read the next words carefully, for you do not have much time to save him.
Merlin has been poisoned; unknowingly he has consumed the seeds of the plant Nux Vomica. I know you have no idea as to that particular plant – you were never one for listening in lessons. He should already be starting to feel the effects and wherever he is, it will not be pleasant. Take this letter to Gaius – he will prepare you for what you will find. Waste no time Arthur. If you want Merlin to live, bring him to the Valley of the Fallen Kings by no later than noon, two days from now and I will provide him with the antidote. You may be asking yourself why I am doing this, but for now it is a secret. You bring him or your bootlicking servant will suffer in the most horrible way. Two days Arthur...RUN
Clutching the note in his shaking hands, he pushed his meal away and sprung into action. He crashed through the door and ran down the corridor, barrelling headlong into Gwaine.
'Whoa there Princess, what are you running from?' He asked with a lopsided smirk.
'Shut up Gwaine, and get out of my way!' Arthur growled.
The young knight frowned. 'Sire?' he asked with unusual politeness and genuine concern.
'Gwaine! Merlin had been poisoned! I must get to Gaius and we have to find him! Before it's too late!'
Fear and panic flashed within Gwaine's dark eyes and he nodded, racing after Arthur towards the Physicians chambers.
They crashed through the doors of Gaius's chambers with alarming speed; startling the old man, who jumped, sending the glass vial he was holding, shattering upon the stones.
'Sire, what is it my boy?' Gaius implored, his eyebrows beetling into a concerned frown.
Breathing heavily from exertion and panic, the Prince thrust the letter to Gaius with trembling hands. As the old man read, his eyes grew wide.
'Gods above!' he cried. 'Where is he Arthur? It is imperative that we find him!'
'What is this plant Gaius?' Arthur demanded, noting his panicked tone
A tear slid down the old man's face.
'Nux Vomica, sire, this plant...will be his death.'
His words hit Arthur like a hammer to the gut. No further words were exchanged as Gaius looked away, utterly broken.
Arthur knew where he was, for he had ordered him there himself. He glanced at Gwaine, and together they headed for the armoury.
Merlin gripped the ragged polishing cloth in his hand as waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He had started to feel a little ill after his meal in the morning, but he had put it down to bad grain and moved on. However, as the morning began to wane, he had started to feel heavy and very tired, but still he continued, despite the sheen of sweat that dampened his brow, the boy had begun to polish the King's armour as ordered.
He was just beginning to shine the hauberk, when he was assailed by the worst pain he had ever known, like his gut was being squeezed and twisted from the inside by unseen hands.
He gripped the bench tightly with one hand, while the other clawed at his stomach, desperate to rid himself of the agony that threatened to pull him under. Merlin let out a strangled cry, and fell to his knees gasping for breath – and he began to wail, hot tears spilling from his eyes.
As Arthur and Gwaine approached the armoury, the sounds they heard coming from within, almost stopped them in their tracks. A low, animal keening, broken by strangled sobs pierced Arthur like a knife and his resolve nearly broke. He was so afraid of what he would find behind those doors and judging by the pained look upon his Knight's face – Gwaine was too. But they had to help Merlin, so they could get him better and he could go back to being the cheeky, insolent git that Arthur admired him for.
Sharing a brief nod, the pair pushed the door open and they could never have prepared themselves for what they saw.
The usually cheerful boy was curled up in the foetal position beneath the table, his face shining with perspiration and tears. Spittle dripped from his chin and smears of grainy vomit smeared his tunic and neckerchief.
King Arthur dropped to his knees and reached for his friend as he cried out, his body jerking.
"Gwaine, help me move him, we need to get him to Gaius, now,' Arthur instructed, grabbing Merlin from behind the knees and pulling dragging him from beneath the table.
A scream ripped from his throat and he snatched his legs from Arthur's grip, retreating back into a ball.
'We move the table, Arthur,' Gwaine muttered lifting one side off the heavy oak bench, his eyes constantly flickering towards the ill boy.
With a huff of exertion, Arthur hefted the other side off the stones, and together they moved it across the room.
They barely had the table set upon the ground, when Arthur rushed back toward the whimpering boy, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears.
Upon his knees, Arthur placed a trembling hand against his servant's cheek, and recoiled suddenly, at the heat radiating from his pale skin.
'Oh Merlin, why is it always you?' he murmured quietly, turning his face towards his own, so their eyes met.
The bright blue that would've normally greeted him was reduced to a slim ring of cerulean that encompassed pupils dilated so far, his eyes appeared black.
'Ar..tur,' Merlin wheezed, gripping the Kings tunic and fisting the rough material in his hands. Gwaine crouched behind the boy and began to lift him gently, but stopped when he cried out in protest.
An overwhelming dizziness magnified the severe nausea he was already feeling and he barely managed to mumble a warning before he was violently sick upon Gwaine.
The man didn't even flinch. There were no complaints or exclamations of disgust where heard from him as Merlin continued to retch. Gwaine just rubbed his back soothingly and allowed him to be sick. 'That's it mate, get it all out,' he muttered, his eyes meeting Arthur's worried gaze.
The young warlock took a wheezing breath and turned to the King, gripping his wrist tightly. With his free hand he pulled a knife from his sleeve and slapped it gently into Arthur's hand.
'Merlin, what –'
'Kill me now Arthur,' he whispered, 'please,'
The King's eyes widened in bewilderment, and his hand clasped around the hilt of the weapon.
'Sire – ' Gwaine muttered, tensing.
'Don't be stupid Merlin, I'm not going to kill you,' he replied, tossing it aside.
As it clattered upon the stone, Merlin screamed.
'It hurts Arthur! If you cared, you would do it,' he cried desperately.
The king gripped his shoulder. 'It is because I care, that I refuse,' Arthur replied gently. 'Now, we must get you to Gaius.'
He began to lift the frail manservant, and his cries became wilder and more pained. He began to beg, hot tears dripping from his chin.
'Kill me, please just end it, Arthur do it –'
'I'm sorry my friend,' Gwaine muttered regrettably as his fist slammed into the boys face.
Merlin went limp and Arthur sighed with relief. 'Let's get him to Gaius.'
Gwaine nodded and held the door open as Arthur readjusted Merlin so his head was supported by his shoulder.
They needed to get him to the physician, and then they would have to leave. There was precious little time, and Arthur would waste no more.
Merlin's life depended on it.
Thank you for your kind reviews and encouragement on the prologue! I'm hoping you all enjoy