Gwaine stayed with Dante all night, only leaving her side once when Percival had to literally drag him away to eat, and give Gaius some space to tend to her wounds without the anxious knight hanging over his shoulder the entire time.
Now here he was, several hours later, sitting by her bedside, watching her sleep, even though, unfortunately, she was something of a mess to look upon. Gaius had quickly discovered that she had been hurt worse than any of them had first thought, and only the rush of pure adrenaline had kept her going for so long after whatever had happened to inflict the injuries upon her in the first place.
Punching Gwaine in the face had used up her last reserves of energy, though he had to admit, he had deserved it. And as soon as she was awake again, he would make amends for it. But until then, he was helpless to do anything except sit and study her sleeping form.
There was no doubt it was her, of course, but she was in a terrible state, and despite Gaius and Merlin's joint efforts to patch her up, the extent of her injuries was still horrifically obvious.
Her face was bruised and cut, the wounds only being revealed once the mud and grime had been gently sponged away, and there was a deep wound at the base of her skull that had been hidden by her long curls of chocolate hair.
One of her shoulders had been dislocated, and Gaius had popped it back in to place several hours earlier, informing Gwaine that there would be no permanent damage to the arm. But it was now a deep, angry purple, and her other shoulder was just as bad – impact damage, perhaps? A fall from a horse, maybe. Would explain why she'd been wandering, lost and confused.
In fact, all the damage she'd sustained pointed to this conclusion, save for three unexplainable wounds - the gash to her stomach and the red raw marks round both wrists.
Gaius had told him that the wound was made by a knife, or other similar object, but was only superficial. After cleaning it up and dabbing away the dried and crusting blood, he decided that it would not in fact need stitches because despite the huge amount of blood at first, the old physician assured Gwaine, it was not nearly as bad as they had first assumed, and it certainly wasn't life threatening. Well, not until she'd caught an infection in it, anyway. Plus she now also had a fever that alternately brought her out in fierce sweats and raging shivers.
And to top it all off, she was deathly white. Almost as white as the bed sheets, in fact.
Other than that, she was still as beautiful as he'd remembered her to be...perhaps even more so, he decided as he took a cloth from the bowl, rung it out and gently wiped away the beads of sweat that had appeared across her brow. She was trembling, and her teeth chattered slightly, and he wondered if he should perhaps find another blanket for her, until the fever had passed.
"Still getting yourself into trouble, Milady?" he muttered quietly, taking hold of her hand as she continued to tremble in her sleep. "Nothing's changed there, then."
"Gwaine," a sleepy voice spoke from the adjoining room, and Gwaine glanced up to see Merlin standing in the doorway to his bedroom. "Why don't you go and get some rest. I'll watch her, if you want."
"It's alright, Merlin," Gwaine shook his head, unwilling to leave Dante's side now. But when he yawned unexpectedly, Merlin gave him a pointed look, and he sighed, knowing the young man was right.
"If anything happens - " he started as he rose from the stool, stretching his aching joints. He'd definitely been sitting down for too long.
Merlin descended the stairs leading to his room and grinned as he took Gwaine's place on the stool. "You'll be the first to know. I promise."
"You swear?" Gwaine frowned.
"I swear on Arthur's life," Merlin nodded, no hint of a joke to his tone this time. Satisfied, Gwaine yawned and stretched once more, then bent down and kissed Dante's forehead, before letting out another resigned sigh and reluctantly leaving. Merlin watching him go, then looked down at the unconscious woman.
"I think someone's got themselves an admirer," he whispered into the darkness.
...
The next morning, Gaius decided to inform Arthur about their mystery guest. Arthur knew the situation, of course, but not the details and had requested that the old physician fill him in first thing in the morning, considering the hunting party had returned late the evening before and until Gaius had examined Dante's wounds, he wouldn't have much to report to the King anyway. The knights had already given their reports, and now it was Gaius' turn, having left Merlin to care for the girl - not that she would be requiring much, considering she was still unconscious.
Arthur and Gwen had been enjoying Arthur's birthday breakfast together in the dining hall - a feast of fresh fruits and breads - when Gaius had requested his audience, and although he'd offered to wait until they had finished, Arthur had motioned for him to continue, anyway. So Gaius had wished the King a happy birthday as he'd stepped into the room, waiting for the doors to close behind him again. After all this was a delicate situation, considering the circumstances that Dante had been found under, so for the time being, the physician had decided that the less people who knew all the details, the better.
"What news of the girl?" Arthur asked now, taking a measured sip from his golden chalice. Gwen stopped eating at this and turned her attention to the old physician too.
"I have tended to her wounds to the best of my abilities, sire," Gaius informed Arthur, though he was also speaking as much to Guinevere as to her husband. "Of which there were many. But fortunately for her, they were not severe. Once the fever has passed, I'm sure she'll be up and about again in no time."
"Gwaine mentioned that he thought she may have been stabbed?" Arthur asked, concerned.
"A shallow wound, Sire. It did not even need stitches, in the end. Perhaps a scratch would have been a better explanation."
"But she collapsed?"
"From nothing more than exhaustion, Sire. I believe she may have been running away from somewhere - or rather someone."
"What makes you say that?" Guinevere spoke finally, unable to keep quiet any longer.
"She has wounds on both wrists, from some kind of restraint or shackle. Added to the fact she was found wandering the woods, starved and exhausted, dressed in simple clothes not exactly befitting a lady of her station, I'd say she was someone's captive, for some time before her escape. I could be wrong, of course, but to me, that is what her wounds suggest."
"How long before she wakes?"
"I'm afraid it's impossible to say, Sire."
Arthur sighed, knowing that the physician had done his best. Nodding, he thanked Gaius and allowed him on his way, acknowledging that he probably had many patients to see that morning - Gaius did in fact have a whole list of people he needed to see, but he'd never have admitted it to the King for fear of appearing rude. Now that Arthur had given him leave, however, he no longer had to worry.
Bowing low to both royals, he turned and left the room, heading back to his quarters to fetch his bag, ready for his morning rounds.
...
Blackness slowly gave way to a blur and Dante stirred at the touch of something damp and cold on her brow, followed by a gentle splashing sound.
She made the mistake of slowly blinking her eyes open to bright morning sunlight shining through an overhead window, making her wince. Her vision was blurry, and her head throbbed with an insistent and unpleasant pounding. Blinking again, her eyes finally adjusted enough to see, but there wasn't much to look at.
The morning sunlight from above shone through the hanging fabric of curtains, drawn over a window. She let her eyes roam around some more, building a picture of her surrounding as the blur gradually cleared.
There was a bewildering array of glass flasks, instruments of brass and copper on every available surface, and books. Lots of books.
Volumes large and small, open on the tables, stacked on the floor or crammed into shelves lining the walls.
Dust swirled in the sunlight, spiralling in the air before settling on the jumble of objects scattered about the room.
She felt the press of the damp cloth on her brow again and turned her head on the pillow slightly, looking up into the face of the young man who was sitting beside the bed.
"Did I wake you?" he asked in surprise, as he dipped the rag back into a bowl perched on a stool beside him. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be as gentle as I can."
"What...happened?" Her voice came out as a hoarse croak and she coughed, intensifying the pounding head. Then she groaned out loud and laid her head back down again to stop the spinning room from making her nauseated.
"You were found in the Forest of Ascetir, on the borders of Essetir," he explained gently. "You were hurt, so the knights who found you brought you back here."
Dante listened, closing her eyes wearily for a moment, before opening them cautiously again. "And where is here, exactly?"
"Camelot. The Court of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere Pendragon."
She nodded again, letting out a long sigh of what sounded to Merlin like relief. Though why she'd be so relieved at reaching Camelot, he would have to wait to find out, because even as he returned to dabbing her brow again gently with the rag, she slipped back into unconsciousness - too exhausted and weak to fight against it.