This has been bobbing around in my head for a long time – always wanted to fill in the gap between Part One and Two of "The Coming of Arthur." Hope you'll enjoy my take on what we should have seen on screen.
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"I crown thee Morgana Pendragon ... Queen of Camelot."
The words cut through him as sharply as the arrow that had pierced his leg almost twenty four hours before. How could this be happening? How could Morgana have betrayed his father (their father) like this; how could she have betrayed him like this?
He wanted to rise up from his hiding place to denounce her but he knew that to do so would be suicide; knew that Merlin had been right to stop him; knew that the immortals would cut him to ribbons.
He stared in horror at the woman now seated upon his father's throne; at the woman he loved as a sister, and then it hit him. He'd failed - failed to save his father; failed to save Camelot.
And with that realisation he knew that he couldn't keep going any more, could no longer hold back the tidal wave of pain that long threatened to consume his sweat drenched body.
"Merlin," he breathed, wanting to tell his friend to go, to getaway, to save himself. But all other words were lost as he collapsed unconscious beside the young sorcerer.
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Merlin had seen it coming, had long expected his master to succumb to the infection raging inside. Gaius had warned the Prince, had wanted to redress the wound to reduce the inflammation. But Arthur had refused, insisting on something to "keep me going" instead. The potion given did its job instantaneously, numbing the pain and revitalising the injured man. So much so that by the time Gwaine and Elyan had returned he was able to convince them to leave – had they realised their Prince remained gravely ill they would never have left his side. The act however had not fooled Merlin, which was why he'd stayed with Arthur.
Now with his friend unconscious beside him he was determined to get the Prince (and himself) to safety. But how? The Palace now swarmed with an immortal army that would be patrolling every corridor. And it was ruled by a sorceress who would stop at nothing to find and destroy the future King of Albion.
Only one thing would get them out of this predicament – magic. The Cloaking Spell. He quickly muttered the required incantation and moments later they were both invisible, to man and beast.
Wrapping Arthur's arm across his shoulder Merlin stood up heaving the unconscious Prince to his feet and manoeuvring him away from the crowded throne room. Slowly they moved through the dark, empty corridors, down staircase after staircase the young Sorcerer straining under the weight of his seriously ill friend.
Only once were they nearly caught. They'd reached Camalot's well stocked cellar. Arthur, battling the fever raging within, was struggling to breath, each laboured gasp becoming louder and louder. Until, eventually, they were overheard. Merlin had not seen the warrior approaching, had not noticed the immortal that was close by. The unholy being thrashed out with his razor sharp sword in search of the unseen prey. Only the young sorcerer's magical ability saved them - in a heartbeat he'd raised his hand to imprison the enemy within an empty wine cask – an extra flick of the wrist sealing the un-killable man inside.
Finally they had traversed through the secret tunnel and were now struggling through the forest. But by now Merlin was spent. Arthur, whilst lean and fit, was no light weight and the task of getting him to safety had taken its toll on the much lighter magician. Easing the fever-wracked Prince to the ground Merlin slumped down beside him, fighting to catch breath.
"You really... need to go ... on a diet," he panted.
"You really ... need to ... stop feeding ... me ... rat stew," Arthur murmured between each ragged breath.
"That's typical ... carry you out ... of the castle ... and then you wake up," Merlin smiled as he crawled over to his trembling friend.
"Against ... my orders ... haven't ... forgotten ... those stocks ... you know," the young Prince stammered before his body began to seize.
"ARTHUR ... ARTHUR," Merlin cried out as he held his friend's thrashing body, desperately trying to remember an incantation that would help.
The touch of a reassuring hand startled him as Gwaine reached down to lift the dangerously ill Prince from the cold, hard ground.
"I've got him," the Irish knight barked. "Run on ahead ... tell Gaius I'm right behind you ... tell him to make ready.
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To be continued