2
The rocks from the cave wall dig into his back, carving out bruises that he knows will be there for days. He's annoyed. Something got the drop on them in the woods and not only defeated him with no trouble at all but also managed to capture him and his servant.
Merlin.
Arthur doesn't know why yet, but the creature seems more interested in his manservant than it is the crowned King of Camelot. Merlin, on the other hand, doesn't seem surprised at all, which is more than a little troubling.
He tests his bonds by pulling and twisting. They're solid and judging by the heat they're putting off, they have also been spelled.
Sorcery. Fantastic.
Arthur's begrudged to admit that they're not going to get out of this, at least not their usual way. They're going to have to wait for someone to miss them long enough to come looking.
The creature paces in front of Merlin. His servant watches it carefully but doesn't seem to be afraid. Instead, Merlin's wearing a familiar expression of defiance and irritation. A flash of pride flickers up inside of Arthur. For as useless as he is as a servant and as a fighter, Arthur knows Merlin doesn't lack bravery. As long as they both stay strong they'll be able to get through this.
"Confess," The creature hisses at Merlin.
Arthur frowns. Confess? What the hell would his servant need to confess for?
Merlin doesn't say anything, which seems to annoy the creature. From its black robes, it produces a long, ornate dagger. Merlin sees it too and falters slightly, but then carefully steels his expression again, rebuilding the stubborn walls that Arthur has seen time and time again.
"I have nothing to confess," Merlin says.
The creature steps forward so that it's blocking Merlin from Arthur's view. Even though he can't see it happen, Arthur knows by the hiss of pain that comes from his servant that the creature has touched him with the blade.
When the creature moves Arthur can see the rather shallow cut that it left on Merlin's pectoral muscle. Dread makes its way down his spine. If the creature is willing to do this, it's willing to do more. And knowing stupid, stubborn Merlin, he isn't going to make it easy on himself.
"Confess."
"I will confess to nothing."
Idiot.
"Whatever it is you want from him, he doesn't have it. He's a just a servant!"
Maybe he can get the creature to focus on him instead. He doesn't know what it wants from Merlin but he knows Merlin doesn't have it. It's Merlin, for god's sake.
But the creature ignores him and Merlin does too. The knife catches the reflection of the torches as it glides through the air once more, ripping through Merlin's vulnerable skin. He can tell Merlin's trying to keep quiet, but he can still hear the muted grunt that he makes when the creature cuts him. When he's able to lay eyes on Merlin again, he's able to see the dark trails of blood rolling down his thin torso, dripping onto his boots. Merlin's eyes are screwed shut and his chest is heaving like it's taking all of his effort to focus on breathing. Rage starts building up in Arthur's chest. Merlin won't be able to last very long like this; the position of his body alone will eventually kill him.
Then the creature reaches out a disgusting hand and completely closes it around Merlin's throat. Arthur's heart thunders in his chest, and he begins pulling on his chains in a way that will cause injury to himself before they ever give. He doesn't care about the way his skin chafes under the metal cuffs, he can't just watch as that thing suffocates Merlin.
"Confess."
He sees Merlin hesitate a moment longer than he has with the previous answers, but he still grits out, "No."
The creature is inhumanely fast, slicing open Merlin's torso before either of them know what's happening. For the first time Merlin screams, but it catches in his throat as he tries to force it down in a show of bravery.
"Bastard!" Arthur shouts, "Let him go! He knows nothing!" He pulls and pulls on the chains. Around Arthur's wrists, the shackles begin to grow hotter from the restraining magic.
"Arthur, please…"
At first, Arthur isn't sure if Merlin is pleading to him for help, or to keep quiet, but when Merlin lifts his head it becomes clear: Merlin plans to see this through to the end, whatever that end may be.
"Confess."
Merlin meets Arthur's eyes when he says, "I have nothing to confess to," and Arthur has never hated his servant's stubbornness more.
Merlin continues to deny the creature a confession, and Arthur can see it growing angrier and angrier with every blow with the knife. Soon, it loses patience. The creature stalks over to a torch and begins to heat up the dagger over the flame. The dread that curls up in Arthur's stomach could make him vomit. He sees Merlin's eyes widen and he knows that his servant has worked out what's going to happen as well.
"No! Take me! Take me, he can't help you!" Arthur shouts, trying desperately to free himself or draw the creature's attention to him. Anything but letting it burn Merlin.
But the creature doesn't move, doesn't even acknowledge him.
"Arthur, it's going to be alright," Merlin's voice is shaking despite the reassuring words.
Only Merlin. Only Merlin would be trying to console him right now as if Arthur's the one about to be descended upon with a red-hot blade. Arthur's equal parts proud and infuriated by his servant's words. Most men would be sobbing right now, begging and pleading, confessing anything to stop the monster from burning them, but Merlin's first thought is to reassure his king. His friend.
Arthur has never felt so helpless and it makes his blood boil.
He watches as the creature moves behind Merlin with the glowing blade and gods, the thing is smiling. Wide, bright white teeth pull across the thing's face, taking up an unnatural amount of space, relishing in Merlin's pain and fear. Arthur tears his eyes away from it and focuses on Merlin instead.
"Merlin, look at me. Look at me. It's going to be alright," Arthur makes sure his face doesn't give anything away. He needs to be strong. If Merlin sees him break than he won't stand a chance of holding it together. Merlin's eyes meet his and the trust, the resignation there, makes Arthur want to tear the monster apart piece by piece.
When it happens, when that thing presses the white-hot blade into Merlin's back, Arthur feels like a piece of him breaks. The agonizing sound that Merlin makes will haunt his nightmares forever.
When it's over and Merlin is silent, so silent, Arthur realizes that he was screaming too. God, Merlin looks awful. Spit, blood, and sweat drips from his shaking body. The creature seems satisfied that its prey has lost its defiance. It leans over Merlin's shoulder and hisses in his ear, "Confess."
Merlin flinches away but chokes out, "No."
Arthur can tell that the creature is infuriated. It wrenches itself away from Merlin's body and immediately goes back to the torch to re-heat the knife.
Merlin breaks for the first time and starts to beg, and Arthur just can't take it anymore.
"Merlin, listen to me," Arthur pleads, "Just tell it. Whatever it is, just give it what it wants."
Whatever it is the creature thinks Merlin knows, it can't be bad enough to continue to withstand all of this.
Merlin looks like he wants nothing more to give in, but instead of voicing a confession, he mutters, "I can't, Arthur. I'm sorry."
The creature is done with the flame, and Arthur can see Merlin's labored breathing increase in fear. But the creature surprises them both when it approaches Arthur instead. The King's heart begins to race but he thinks finally. Finally, it's away from Merlin.
Merlin doesn't share the sentiment.
His servant starts shouting the stupidest things like, "It's supposed to be me!" and "It's me you want!"
Arthur hasn't been able to protect him this entire time, but even if it's by the pain of fire, he's going to protect him now.
The creature tears open his shirt and Arthur doesn't flinch. He's going to face this like he faces everything else: with the bravery that would make his knights proud.
But it doesn't happen. The cave fills with an otherworldly light so bright that it could rival the sun. Arthur has to close his eyes to protect himself from the blinding luminosity. From beside him, he can hear the creature let out a distressed screech before everything begins to still. As the light fades Arthur is able to open his eyes and seek out Merlin.
He's not prepared for what he sees. Merlin's eyes are burning a bright, brilliant gold - the same color of gold that Arthur has seen blaze in the eyes of the sorcerers he's killed. The gold slowly fades into Merlin's usual brilliant blue before his eyes slide shut, and Merlin hangs limply in his chains. The shackles holding Merlin unlatch with a loud 'snick' and the servant crumbles to the ground. Arthur jerks forward on reflex and doesn't meet resistance. The king regains his balance and looks at the cave wall in surprise. The shackles didn't just unlock, they disappeared altogether, leaving behind nothing but wet cavern stone.
Arthur's unsettled by the missing restraints but he shakes it off, crawling over to his fallen servant. He turns Merlin onto his back, searching for signs of life. Merlin's chest hitches on every breath and his skin is cold and clammy, and not at all reassuring.
Arthur doesn't know what to do.
Merlin has magic. Merlin is a sorcerer. A sorcerer who just vanquished a mysterious creature without a word or any help at all, and now appears to be on death's door because of it.
Arthur stares at the numerous injuries on his servant's pale skin and decides to approach this as if he were caring for any other person who has been injured in battle: Seek shelter, tend to the wounds, and regroup.
He thinks about trying to wake Merlin but decides against it; better for him to rest while he can and be oblivious to the pain. Slowly, Arthur carefully gathers Merlin in his arms, whispering apologies when the injured man whimpers. He begins to set out of the cave with his servant over his shoulder, hoping beyond hope that the horses are still where they left them.
He treks over the slippery terrain carefully, trying not to shift Merlin too much and thanking every god he knows of that the man doesn't weigh more.
The horses come into view and Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. It felt like they were in the cave for days, but judging by the position of the sun they were only missing for a few hours. His back aches from the weight of his manservant and the time he spent chained to the cave wall. He's beyond grateful when he can finally drape Merlin over his horse to relieve the pressure.
The ride back to Camelot is at least a day away. In normal circumstances, they could easily make it, but Arthur is hesitant to push their luck with Merlin so badly injured. He's angry, but the last thing he wants to do is cause Merlin any unnecessary pain.
A few yards away Arthur spots his fallen sword. He makes sure Merlin is secure on the horse before retrieving it from the grass. The weight of the blade is immediately comforting but it doesn't bring the same feeling of peace that it usually does.
More than anything Arthur wishes that they never went on this hunting trip. He wants to be back in the castle with his annoying servant messing up the easiest of tasks, and talking back to him while he does it. He wants to go back before he knew what Merlin sounds like when he's being cut open, back before he knew the truth.
Arthur still doesn't even really understand what happened in the cave or what the creature was. It was obvious that its purpose was to reveal Merlin's magic, but to what end? To see Merlin executed? To just cause them both pain? Why Merlin?
Feeling frustrated at the lack of answers, Arthur decides to focus on the only thing he can control, which is getting them both back to Camelot alive.
Arthur's plan of riding through the night to reach Camelot fails when Merlin breaks into a fever and almost flings himself from the horse. Arthur curses and rushes to Merlin just in time to keep him from sliding to the ground.
Merlin is drenched in sweat, tossing his head in a fitful sleep. After a moment of indecision, Arthur lifts Merlin and positions him on his own horse, before hauling himself up behind him. Arthur silently apologizes to his mare for the extra weight but urges on.
Draped over the horse in front of him, Merlin squirms as the fever rages. From this angle, Arthur has a completely unobstructed view of the injuries his servant sustained from the torture. The cuts are bad but stopped bleeding some time ago, it's the burn that has Arthur worried. The wound is deep, Arthur can see the divot in the flesh from where it was burned out. The skin is a rainbow of angry reds and unnatural whites, and Arthur pushes away the nauseating thought of it being deep enough to reveal bone.
He wonders if the cause of Merlin's sickness is from his wounds or the expulsion of magic. Arthur has known about magic his whole life but most of what he was taught centered around how evil and manipulative it was. At no point was he taught about what happens to sorcerers when they extinguish shadow creatures without even lifting a hand, and until now, he's never cared.
With these thoughts in mind, Arthur shoves down his fear and pushes his horse a little harder. If Merlin's fever and sickness are being caused by his own magic, Arthur has no hope of saving him.
They make camp at the river and Arthur begins the task of cleaning Merlin's wounds. The lacerations are the easiest; he wipes away the blood and coats the lacerations with one of Gaius' healing salves.
The easy part done, Arthur assesses the burn on the small of Merlin's back. He's not looking forward to touching it, unconscious or not, he's sure it's going to cause his servant pain.
With a deep sigh, he braces Merlin with one hand on his shoulder and gently begins to lay the balm on the ruined skin. As anticipated, Merlin makes a wounded sound and immediately arches, trying to pull away from the touch.
Arthur shushes him and murmurs an apology. Merlin's eyes blink open slowly, and for a moment, Arthur swears he sees gold in them.
"Please...stop…" Merlin's face is half turned into his sleeping pack, but Arthur can hear the fevered words all the same, and despite his anger, they stab at his heart.
"It's alright, you're safe now," Arthur reassures, and gently squeezes the shoulder that's under his hand.
But Merlin doesn't hear him, as darkness claims him once more.
Neither of them can sleep. Every time Arthur closes his eyes he's back in the cave, listening to Merlin scream, and unable to do anything to help. Merlin mutters and cries out in his sleep, caught in fevered dreams that don't seem any more pleasant than Arthur's.
Arthur keeps watch instead, resting against the base of a tree close to Merlin, listening for the sounds of threats. The simplicity of the woods is soothing, a stark contrast to the turmoil he's feeling.
There have been times over the years where he believed his father to be wrong about many things, including magic. Uther had a blind hate for magic that clouded his judgement in the best of times, and turned him positively ruthless in the worst of times. There was never a time in Arthur's life where Uther showed anyone with magic mercy.
Some of Arthur's earliest memories are of public executions and warnings from his father on the dangers of sorcerers. But even as a child he remembered looking into the crying faces on the pyre and wondering how they could be dangerous when they looked so scared.
On his worst sleepless nights he thinks about whether or not he's ever done the right thing when it comes to magic. He thinks about people such as Gwen's father and the Druids that were slaughtered under his watch, and wonders what kind of king he'll be if he allowed those people to die. Some nights he feels vindicated, because he knows that magic is dangerous and has caused many people pain. But most of the time he's just angry, because he knows he was his father's sword and executioner, and at the time he felt like he didn't have any other choice.
And now there's Merlin, and the choice is no ones but his own.
There are so many things that make sense now that he knows the truth: the luck they always have while facing an enemy, the miraculous recoveries from near death, the awful luck they always seem to have when they go hunting…
Merlin. All of it was Merlin. It had to be.
Arthur's brought out of his thoughts when Merlin shifts in his sleep, grimacing and opening his eyes for the first time in hours. He can see the confusion in Merlin's gaze, made worse by the burning fever and lingering pain. He reminds Arthur of a child, vulnerable and searching for something to anchor to.
Arthur picks up the wet cloth that he's been using in an attempt to keep Merlin cool and places it on his forehead.
"Lie still," Arthur says, pushing the cool cloth into Merlin's skin, "It's just a fever."
Merlin doesn't appear to understand, but he seems to settle when Arthur puts his hand on his forehead.
"My back…"Merlin mutters.
Arthur swallows and hopes that his servant will just go back to sleep so he doesn't have to answer. What is he supposed to say? Your back is mangled? I'm sure it'll heal? I'm sorry I couldn't stop it?
"Try not to move," He says instead, keeping a firm hand on Merlin's shoulder.
"How bad?"
Arthur rolls his eyes. Even injured and delirious, the man is still insufferably stubborn.
"I cleaned the wounds the best that I could and covered the burn with ointment, but you need a real physician. I'll get you back to Gaius, he'll be able to help."
"Arthur…"
Arthur can tell by the tone of Merlin's voice that he's going to bring up the magic, and it's the last thing that Arthur wants to deal with at the moment.
"I don't want to talk about it," Arthur says in a tone that leaves no room for discussion, "Let's just get back to Camelot."
There's a dead silence that follows and he knows Merlin is still awake. He can feel Merlin's need to speak, to explain, and it sets Arthur's teeth on edge. He's just not ready to face more lies or explanations. Not yet.
After a moment Merlin finally closes his eyes, and Arthur tries not to notice that they're wet with tears.
Once he's sure Merlin is asleep again, Arthur sighs and leans his head back against the tree. All he wants is to get back to the castle, throw himself into training, and forget that today ever happened. Maybe then Arthur will feel like he can breathe again.
The next morning Merlin is deep in the throes of fever, and Arthur can barely wake him.
He tries pressing water to his servant's lips in hopes of getting him to drink and calm the heat, but it's useless. Merlin is trapped in his own mind, moaning out pleas and begging for an invisible creature to stop hurting him.
With panic clutching at his chest, the king gathers his servant and mounts his horse with Merlin in his arms. They ride hard and as fast as his horse can manage, all the while he whispers apologies as Merlin groans in discomfort.
Merlin can't die. He cannot lose his stupid, self-sacrificing servant, regardless of what he is or is not. It's just not an option.
When the castle comes into view Arthur almost sobs with relief. He sees Leon as soon as they're through the gates, conversing with other knights in the courtyard.
"Leon!" Arthur yells and hopes he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels.
His knight snaps his head up and immediately breaks into a run, "Sire! Are you hurt?"
"Help me get him down," Arthur demands, already shifting Merlin's weight to make him easier to maneuver. He lowers his servant down to Leon's waiting arms as gently as possible, trying hard to ignore his knight's horrified expression as he takes in Merlin's injuries.
He dismounts and gets the attention of one of the knights that are nearby, "Tell the court physician that the king requires his assistance immediately!"
Arthur watches the knight run the direction of the physician's quarters and feels the tightness in his chest ease slightly.
"We need to get him to Gaius," Arthur says and takes Merlin from Leon's arms.
Arthur is unreasonably grateful that Leon doesn't ask any questions, just hands Merlin over and follows him as they sprint to Gaius' quarters.
Gaius looks heartbroken but stone-faced when Arthur comes bursting into the room with Merlin in his arms.
"Put him here," Gaius says and points to a nearby cot, "Carefully. I need water, his fever is burning badly."
Leon answers the request with, "Right away," and quickly leaves to retrieve a bucket.
"What can I do?" Arthur asks as he watches the old physician gather various bottles and jars.
"I think you've helped enough, sire. Your field bandaging most likely saved his life," Gaius replies as he carefully peels back the strips of cloth from Merlin's skin.
He gets to the burn and his hands falter, "What weapon caused this?"
"A knife," Arthur answers darkly, "Cutting him wasn't doing the job, so it got creative."
Gaius doesn't respond. He doesn't ask what happened, who did it, or what it wanted, which confuses Arthur. If it were him he'd be asking all of these questions and then some, but Gaius is acting like he isn't surprised, like he already knows.
Does he? Arthur wonders. Aside from himself, Merlin is closest to Gaius; if anyone were to know Merlin's secret, it'd be the magic-reformed physician.
"Did you know?" Arthur's trying to stay calm, but he can't quite keep the accusation out of his voice.
Gaius is unfazed and barely looks up from Merlin, "Know what?"
"Did you know that Merlin is a sorcerer? Did you know about...about that thing?"
Gaius stills, but only for a moment, before he calmly answers, "Yes."
Gaius has all of the bandages off Merlin now, leaving a clear view of angry, red skin and seeping blood. Arthur watches as the physician puts his hand on Merlin's forehead as if checking the temperature, and then tenderly pushes his hair back like a father would do to a child. The old man's hands tremble as he repeats the motion.
Resolutely, Gaius meets his eyes, "I will answer as many questions as I can, and if you must, you can arrest me. I won't resist. But please, sire. Let me save him."
Arthur feels like he's been kicked in the chest. Gaius actually thinks Arthur would do that, just wrench away the only person in the kingdom who can save Merlin's life, all because of sorcery. For a brief moment, Arthur hates his father. He hates that the man instilled so much fear and so much resentment in all of them in his crusade against magic. He wonders what his father would do at this moment, standing before one of his oldest friends, who has been harboring a sorcerer for years. But Arthur knows, as definitively as he knows anything: Uther would jail Gaius, and sentence Merlin to death, leaving him to rot in the dungeon in his fevered state for his last night on earth. Merlin would be shown no mercy.
There's no doubt that Gaius knows this as well. Despite their differences in temperament, Arthur is still Uther's son, and right now, Gaius doesn't know what kind of king he's going to be.
It's all too much. Knowing that Merlin is in the safest place he can be, Arthur turns and leaves, not saying a word.
He has to get out.