The last thing Merlin remembered was sitting bound in his iron shackles in his small prison cell in Camelot's dungeon. Arthur had left hours ago, never answering his question.
A sigh left Merlin's lips, as he leaned his head against the cold damp wall. He closed his eyes and stretched his legs trying to find a somewhat comfortable position.
Merlin heard a sound coming from the entrance of the dungeon. Footsteps. It could only be one man. Maybe a guard? What did it matter? Merlin was too tired to care. He couldn't remember when he had last had a proper night's sleep, or even food or water. His stomach was clenching uncomfortable, too empty. He swallowed thickly, his throat was too dry.
Keys could be heard rustling. Merlin opened his eyes slowly when the door to his prison cell was unlocked and opened with an eerie creaking sound, as if it was protesting to the action. Before Merlin could focus his blurry tired eyes on the man standing in his cell, a fist reached him. His head knocked hard against the wall at his back, sending a blinding pain through the back of his head.
Darkness swarm his vision and the world turned black.
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When Merlin came to, he felt his head throbbing. His neck was twisted at an uncomfortable angle, and his shoulder ached from the unnatural stretch of his arm. Merlin laid on his stomach with his head to the side. His left arm was numb from bearing his weight for who knows how long.
It was dark. Groaning Merlin reached for his throbbing head. He was sure that it should not have been possible. Not while he was lying down. Not while he should still be in chains in the dungeon. But still, his hand reached his head, or rather the sack that covered it. Merlin withdrew his hand, holding the sack in a tight grip. When his head was free, he felt the cold wind move his hair and caress his now free skin. A shiver went through his body.
He tried to focus his eyes on the darkness around him. His hands gripped the cold ground. He could feel the damp dirt and grass in his grip. Merlin's eyes widened and he forced himself to his knees and hands. The sudden action proved too much for him, and he turned his head to the side and reached, what was left of the pitiful content of his stomach now laid on the grass beside him.
Merlin's eyes watered and he closed them tightly as he tried to force the world around him to stop spinning. His throat burned from vomiting and his nose scrunched in discomfort at the harsh smell.
When the world stopped spinning, Merlin was once again reminded of his initial thought when waking up.
His eyes opened slowly and focused on the ground beneath him.
This was not his cell.
Merlin felt his heart beat faster, threatening to jump out of his chest.
He was no longer in the dungeons.
His breathing quickened, and his stomach clenched painfully, threatening to dispel its contents though it had nothing more than stomach acid left.
Merlin whipped his head around to look at his surroundings. His head protested at the action and it took several seconds for his blurry eyes to focus. Trees. It didn't matter where he looked, trees were all around him.
He was in a forest.
Merlin could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He tried to take calming breaths, as he struggled for air. But his lungs wouldn't cooperate. His knuckles became white as his grip on the ground tightened. Black spots swam his vision as his heaving burning lungs refused the cold air surrounding him.
Why? Why was he here? Where was he? Where is Arthur?
The blood pumping in his ears drowned out the rustling of the leaves.
Merlin's hand found his chest and gripped at his worn shirt. His pounding heart was easy to feel through the thin fabric. Merlin closed his eyes. He willed his heart to slow, and forced his breath to deepen. Air finally filled his lungs. He stayed on his knees for what felt like hours but was only minutes. Merlin could feel himself calm.
Merlin opened his eyes as his breathing calmed and forced himself to his feet. His knees almost buckled as he stood. The lack of food and water was taking its toll on him.
Merlin took a few trying steps, hoping his legs would be strong enough to carry him onwards.
His hands found a tree and he leaned all his weight upon it. He stopped and took a deep breath. Despite having just woken up, Merlin felt like he could sleep for days.
But he couldn't. Not yet.
He had no idea where he was, who left him here, or who the man in the dungeon was.
But those questions had to wait. He had more pressing matters at hand. For one, his survival.
First, he needed to find cover, make a fire to heat his cold body and find water and food to get his strength up. Decisions and questions beyond that had to wait.
Merlin walked for more than an hour, his legs threatened to buckle with each step he took. Finally, he heard a rustling of water in the silent night. He moved as fast as he could towards the sound, though it only ended in a slow stumbling walk. Every third step Merlin took almost resulted in him tripping over rocks and branches on the ground. The darkness of the night and the thick forest was not his friend tonight. With a bit of luck, Merlin managed to stay on his feet as he reached the end of a tree line.
There! Relief surged through his body. Only a couple of steps more, and he could reach the brook of water. Merlin stumbled the last way and fell to his knees as his shaking hands found the cold water.
Merlin drunk with greed, the water fell down his chin and drenched his shirt. But he could hardly care. Water had never tasted so good. He closed his eyes as he focused on the feeling of water running down his throat, filling his empty stomach.
A sigh left his mouth when he could have no more water without being sick.
The water had filled his once empty stomach and drowned his hunger pains. Though he knew the relief would only be for a short while.
Merlin opened his eyes and looked at his trembling hands. The ugly raw wounds on his wrists stung from the cold water. Merlin was entranced by the way his blood slid slowly but surely from his wrists to his fingers. Drops of blood fell from his fingertips into the water below, mixing it for less than a second before the current washed it away.
His eyes focused once again on the open wounds on his wrists.
He could almost hear Gaius telling him to deal with his wounds before they would become infected.
The last thing he needed was an infection, his body would surely not be able to fight the fever that would wreck his body, and he would not have the energy. At least not while stuck and alone in the middle of the woods with no medicine, no shelter, and no food.
Merlin took a deep breath before he started cleaning his wounds in the cold water. Grinding his teeth together as it stung. He ripped his neckerchief with his cold numb hands and started to bandage his wrists.
When the last knot was tied, a sigh left Merlin as he looked tiredly at the dark sky. His energy was draining fast.
Merlin stood back up on his shaking legs.
At least his throat was burning no more, and his stomach was heavy with water and no longer clenched painfully.
He had found water. The next step is to find shelter and food.
Merlin went along the river with slow but determined steps with his goal in mind.