Authors Note:
Firstly, I would like to apologise for the amount of errors in my last chapter. Usually I check over my doco thoroughly before posting, but hey – we all get lazy! Secondly, just so you are aware, the plant that has poisoned Merlin, Nux Vomica, is a real plant and the symptoms are legitimate, and lastly – I just finished watching the final episode of Merlin EVER, and I found myself sobbing! Colin and Bradley were so spectacularly moving; I thought my heart was going to break!
It is highly likely that this will fall on deaf ears, but you never know! Colin, Bradley – Congrats on the utterly beautiful and breathtaking performance! You each get a cyber cookie :D
DISCLAIMER:
I do not own Merlin. If I did, Arthur & Gwaine would be alive, and I would be in France, shooting Series 6.
Warnings
Contains gratuitous violence in the form of whump…
Warnings especially for graphic torture.
Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell
CHAPTER THREE
Slowly, Merlin's sobs began to subside. He felt weary and pained – why were his pants wet?
That's right, I pissed myself, the boy thought grimly, his fists still bunching the finery that adorned the King.
Oh gods!
The fragile boy scrambled away from his fair haired master and leant against a tree, his trembling knees drawn against his chest.
'Merlin –' Arthur began, bewildered at his friend's rapid withdrawal.
'I'm sorry, Arthur,' he muttered, his blue orbs distant and dazed.
The king sighed. 'Merlin, don't apologise – you're ill,' He reached his hand out to give the young man and comforting touch, not missing the flinch.
Arthur's heart wrenched at the sight of the haggard boy. Never had Merlin looked so frail and dejected.
The King stood, his eyes deep with worry, and motioned for Gwaine to come over.
'He needs to be cleaned up Gwaine, but he won't let me touch him. I think he is ashamed of losing control, and I don't want to make it worse. I have some spare trousers that he can have. Use cool water Gwaine, his fever is burning high. It will relieve him.'
The Knight nodded, his tawny eyes lacking the joviality they usually held.
He crouched down before his friend and gave him an encouraging smile.
'How are you feeling mate?' he asked, gently removing the boy's tunic.
''M hot,' he mumbled, recoiling as Gwaine began to remove his soiled trousers. The knight raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. 'There is no need to be ashamed, Merlin,' he said, trying to calm the boy as his breaths hitched in his chest. 'I am just trying to help you,'
'I – I know...I'm just...' he swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling more tired than he ever had in his life.
'I know you're embarrassed mate, but Arthur does not think any less of you. He didn't want to touch you for fear of causing you more panic,'
Merlin nodded, relaxing slowly, allowing the knight, his friend – to continue undressing him. Gwaine had never seen the boy naked before – he took so much care in covering up, always bathing alone on a hunt, and the Knight could see why. He was just so thin. Gwaine could see his ribs beneath pale, milky skin and his hips jutted out like the bones of a baby bird. Biting back his words, the Knight spilled cool water from his canteen onto a rag and began to wipe the sweat and dirt from his body, soothing his cries of pain as he worked gently.
Arthur had rejoined them quietly and clutching his warmest blanket, sat next to his loyal and most trusted friend. 'It's ok Merlin...' he soothed, watching the tips of his ears grow pink from embarrassment.
'I've washed your trousers; they're drying by the fire now. You will be able to wear them soon enough,' the king explained, draping the blanket around Merlin's narrow shoulders.
The young Warlock looked up at the king, his eyes wide. 'Arthur, you're the King! You shouldn't be washing the piss of your servant's clothes!' he cried, his voice cracking as he began to panic once more.
Arthur gripped his shoulders and turned him slowly to face him. The King's deep blue eyes held no anger or resentment. They were soft and compassionate – a rarity in the boy who kept his emotions so guarded a lot of the time.
'Merlin, please don't assume that I couldn't care less...I know I am often distant and appear callous, but that is only because you are the worst manservant in the history of Camelot!'
Merlin looked away, his face pinched – but Arthur forced him to meet his gaze once more.
'That being so – you are also my most loyal and trusted friend. I think I could even go as far as calling you a brother. And besides which – I am also the King, so I can wash whose ever pants I want, Merlin,'
The Warlock could not believe his ears, but the words felt true. He offered his friend a small smile. It was a ghost of smile; nowhere near its usual brilliance...but Arthur took it and grinned in return, ruffling his raven mop gently.
'Get some rest Merlin. I want you to eat something before we get moving again. We ride in an hour.'
Merlin really did try to eat, but as the campfire cooked morsels slid down his throat, his already roiling stomach recoiled, rejected the food and for the umpteenth time that day, he was on his knees, clutching his aching abdomen and expelling the contents of his stomach upon the forest floor.
Taking a harsh breath once the worst of the nausea had passed, Merlin wiped the bile from his mouth and sighed. The pain was reaching unbearable levels and he just wanted to sleep. He swayed in exhaustion and started to fall back, his eyes drooping and a pair of strong arms gripped him under his armpits.
His consciousness was waning fast, and so was his life. Arthur could feel laboured breaths through his back and he swore. The group had been idle for far too long. It was time to move.
With the help of his Knights, Arthur lifted the fading boy onto his horse, deciding Merlin was better off where he could keep a constant vigil on his friend.
When the secret magician was in place, draped over the neck of the horse, The King mounted swiftly and pulled the boy almost protectively against his chest.
It was past midnight, and the forest was dark – but the Knights surrounded him, each holding a flaming torch whilst gripping their reins one handed.
Arthur clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and urged his steed forward with a firm squeeze of his boots.
They were off again.
They rode hard, the Knights keeping well balanced as they cantered through the dark night, their blazing torches streaming behind them like the breath of a dragon.
Arthur was worried. Merlin had not stirred since they departed. Not an inch – but in mere seconds, as the King contemplated his concern for the frail man, Merlin's head jerked backward sharply, bashing Arthurs sternum.
The regent started. The contact had only winded him slightly, but his alarm grew Merlin became taut once more, his muscles trembling.
'STOP!' Arthur cried, reining in his steed until it slowed to a halt.
Merlin was convulsing again, his limbs jerking spasmodically as the knights gathered around the seizing boy, their eyes worried,
He arched back, his neck straining against Arthurs chest, and all the King could do was watch desolately, as the pink foam sputtered from the boy's blue-tinged lips.
Somehow, although Arthur could have never fathomed how at that point, this was far worse than before. Pained grunts escaped from deep in Merlins throat, and his thighs clenched dangerously tight around the horses neck.
They waited silently for several minutes and Arthur absentmindedly stroked the damp raven locks that stuck to his forehead.
It was fifteen minutes before the spasms began to subside, and Merlin's head lolled once again, this time remaining in deep unconsciousness.
'I don't know how much longer he can suffer like this. He's so hot,' Percival mumbled, touching a tender hand to the boy's forehead. 'We must make haste, Arthur – he is fading,'
With a heavy heart, Arthur sighed. He was not going to lose his friend, but they had time yet.
They had to keep going.
With a speed that would have impressed even the most skilled rider, they made it to the entrance of the Valley a little over two hours later. In that time, Merlin's seizures continued with alarming regularity, each steadily worse than the last.
And they stopped each time, waiting with bated breath until the tremors abated before they moved on.
'We still have a day and a half. We need to rest. Gwaine, help me get him down. He needs to be comfortable.'
Gwaine nodded as Arthur slid from the saddle, his legs stiff.
Merlin moaned painfully as the men, pulled him gently from the steed. His eyes flickered rapidly beneath his pale lids as they set him down. That was when he stirred. He blinked blearily, drinking in his surroundings.
'Merlin, welcome back,' Gwaine murmured, placing his pack beneath his head for comfort.
'G-Gwaine...I need...where's Ar-tur?' He groaned weakly.
'I'm here mate,' he replied, leaning over his friend. Merlin gripped the King's wrist tightly.
'I don't k-know how much l-longer I'll be me...' he began, the words hurting.
'Shh Merlin, save your strength,' Arthur said, stroking his knuckles gently.
He shook his head stubbornly. 'No, Arthur...I'm dying...do you think that M-Morgana doesn't have an ulterior motive? I have to tell you now...I don't want to go to grave knowing I hid my biggest secret from you...'
Arthur's stomach clenched his panic rising. What kind of secret was it that Merlin feared to tell him?
'You can tell me when you're all better, ' the King assured, sighing as the boy shook his head.
'N-no...It has to be now...Arthur...' tears began to leak from his tired eyes as they met his. 'I have magic.'
Arthur rocked backwards on his heels as the boy confessed. The King knew he should be angry, or at least a little bit annoyed, and by the look on Merlin's face, he did too.
He regarded the sick boy, his head tilted to the side.
Magic is evil...his subconscious muttered, knitting his brow together in a frown, but a firmer voice responded: how can sweet, loyal, faithful Merlin be evil ever?
'A-Arthur?' He stammered, swallowing convulsively, fear and panic hitching his breaths.
'Why did you never tell me?' The King asked with a gentleness that shocked Merlin.
'I – I...If you r-recall, sire, I think you'll find I did tell you. But you didn't believe me. Your f-father did...'
The young regent cast his mind back to when they had only known each other for several months, when Guinevere had been accused of sorcery and Merlin barged into the Throne Room, proclaiming his guilt. Arthur shot the possibility down quickly. There was no way that bumbling idiot of a manservant had magic!
'So, you're a Sorcerer?' he asked.
Merlin shook his head rapidly. 'No, no – Sorcerers choose to learn magic. I was born with it...I am a Warlock. I wanted to tell you, so many times Arthur...I have only ever used it to protect you and Camelot, I swear!'
His breaths were coming in great whooping gasps now, the panic of finally revealing his secret, threatening to take over.
'Calm down, Merlin...please. I...I am not angry. I know I should be furious right now, but I look at you –' The King paused. 'It just hurts that you couldn't trust me enough to tell me,'
Merlin averted his gaze to look at the ground ashamedly.
'I was scared, Arthur and rightly so – even if you accepted me for who I was straight away, you would be lying to your father, and that is treason...Prince or no. I didn't want to put you in that position and I didn't want to die either...'
Seeing the King's acceptance, the Knights relaxed visibly, coming over slowly to offer the Warlock water.
'You devious little pup,' Gwaine said with a grin, ruffling his young friend's hair. Merlin began to smile, but it froze, contorting to a look of great fear.
'Run, now,' he said firmly. 'RUN!'
Arthur went to pick him up, but jumped back when he looked at Merlin's eyes.
The gold flickered intermittently, and the air around them crackled and snapped.
'M-Merlin?' Arthur stammered, touching him gently.
The Warlock screamed, and he arched again, throwing out pulses of magic that had his friends on their backs.
His throat clenched painfully, and air could not enter to fill his lungs. As Merlin trembled, his head twitched, hitting the side of his head on a gnarled, exposed tree root, time and time again. Blood poured from the gash and his eyes rolled back, showing only white.
The King jumped to his feet and raced to his friend, because magic or no, the boy was dying and needed to be saved. Only when Merlin had recovered completely would he be demanding any kind of explanation.
'C'mon idiot,' Arthur urged through clenched teeth, supporting Merlin's neck and holding his head as far away from the root as he could possibly get.
That's when Arthur noticed blue lips opening and closing, eyes holding such desperation and fear that the King thought his heart would break. Merlin couldn't breathe.
'Merlin – come on you dolt, you need air!' Arthur cried – he could see his throat pulsing, desperate and hungry for oxygen.
Ignoring protocol – namely royals saving the lives of their servants, Arthur pinched the boy's nose and sealed his lips around Merlin's breathing his own air into him.
The Warlock's eyes were wide with shock, but he was getting air.
As Merlin took a shuddering breath, finally able to breathe again – The king stepped back, his cheeks reddening.
Merlin just stared at his friend for a while, a look of utter bafflement upon his features, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was unconscious once more.
Ok – that was a late one, so sorry guys! The story will move forward in the next chapter, I promise!