Merlin worked long and hard into the night, but he knew that he was barely touching upon Arthur's wounds. He treated the cuts littering his torso and arms, and managed to bandage the weeping wounds on his wrists. But by that point, he was exhausted. He knew he shouldn't stop, not when he hadn't even begun to contemplate how he was going to treat the prince's back, but his body and mind were screaming out him. A low throb had made residence in his temples, and as he stretched out for some more water, he couldn't help but notice that his hand was shaking. If he was honest, Merlin was not surprised. He had spent the night before fighting his way towards the building. But even before that, he had barely got enough rest. And now, suddenly, his mission was over.

Before Merlin quite realised what was happening, he fell asleep, one hand still resting on the prince's shoulder from where he had been trying to clean up a particularly deep cut. He knew Arthur would not sleep, and that was why he had been so determined to stay awake with him. Every time he had felt the blond's body relax, the infernal burn had flared into life. Merlin knew that if Arthur was going to have any chance of overcoming this, Merlin had to get that mark off. But that meant he would have to use magic – powerful magic at that – on the Crown Prince of Camelot.

Merlin wasn't sure how long he slept for. He knew it had been late by the time his body had given in, yet only a faint touch of light had begun to grace the horizon when he awoke again. It can't have been more than a few hours later, but the warlock was instantly aware that something was wrong. Very wrong.

He sat blearily up, staring around for a moment before his eyes fell on Arthur. Instantly, Merlin sprang to his feet with a shout of alarm. Something was happening to the man. He was shaking violently, a film of pain dulling his eyes. His hair was stuck to his forehead where he was sweating profusely, and Merlin didn't need to be able to hear his voice to know he was in agony. But as he watched, helpless, he noticed the tremors were beginning to lessen. At first, Merlin was relieved. But then he saw how Arthur's eyes were dulling even more.

"No!" Merlin dropped to his knees again, brushing Arthur's hair away and wincing when he felt the radiating heat coming from the man. He had cleaned the majority of the wounds, he was certain it couldn't be an infection. But then his eyes fell on the burn. Despite the fact it was glowing white, Merlin didn't need to be a physician to know that Arthur was fading, and fast. It was only then Merlin remembered one of the things one of the men had mentioned.

Poison.

Arthur had been poisoned. Merlin knew that he didn't have the magic to rid his body of it. Power wise, it would be easy. But he knew a spell like that would have to be complex, bordering on subtly. He didn't have time to try and get it wrong.

"Arthur, please! You can't leave me, not now." Merlin ignored the tears stinging in his eyes once more, focusing instead on Arthur. He reached across the ground, gripping the man's hand in his own. For a moment, he thought Arthur would pull away, but as he gazed back into the fading blue eyes, Merlin felt his heart catch. There was a flicker of recognition. Right now, just when he knew he was about to lose him, Arthur had recognised him. The faintest smile touched upon Arthur's lips, and an almost resigned look came into his eyes, before they rolled back into his head and he passed out. For the first time in eight months, the burn couldn't combat the poison tearing through him and allowed the prince the sanctuary of the darkness.

Merlin watched the prince lose consciousness with a racing heart. He had figured out enough about the burn to know its whole purpose was to keep Arthur conscious, but if magic that powerful couldn't stop the poison, then what chance did the prince have?

"No..." His hands scrambled over Arthur, resting one on his forehead and one over his heart. Merlin began chanting under his breath, every healing spell he ever knew pouring out of his mouth, forcing his magic into the man. Finally, he ran out of words to say, but as Arthur's breathing became more laboured, he knew that nothing had worked. Surprisingly, a few of the more minor cuts had healed themselves, but in the long run, nothing had helped. "Arthur, please..."

He reached out and tried slapping the man, anything to bring him back to alertness. But nothing worked. Merlin let out a yell of pure frustration and grief. How could he have been searching for eight months, only to lose Arthur now? He made to stand, to do anything that would give Arthur a chance of surviving, when a slight rustle made him freeze.

"Who's there?" He called commandingly. But Merlin was beginning to lose his senses slightly, and didn't wait for a reaction. "Fateor."

With a flash of his eyes, there was a muffled squeak as whoever had been approaching was forcibly dragged forward by the magic. Normally, Merlin would refuse to let himself lash out like this, but with one hand still resting protectively on the back of Arthur's head, rational thoughts had left him. His face was paler than normal, a streak of blood across his cheek from where he had caught it with his hand after dressing a wound. His eyes were shadowed by dark circles, tear stains running down his cheeks. But it was his eyes that showed the most pain. Only a flicker of blue in the centre showed the human side of Merlin was still there. The rest was burning gold.

The gold faded slightly when a young man was thrown to the floor in front of him. Heavy manacles were clamped around his ankles and there was a bottle held tightly in his fist. He all but glared up at Merlin, not seeming to be surprised by the violent display of magic.

"I thought you were going to help him! You're no different to the others!" His words cut Merlin to the core, and he immediately released the spell on the youth.

"I am helping him!" He cried, his hand stroking over Arthur's hair in an attempt of trying to get the young man to come back to him. "I just don't know how..." The end part of his sentence was nothing more than a whisper as he thought back to all of his failed attempts at driving the poison out of his friend.

"I do!" The man responded shortly. He staggered over, pushing Merlin roughly to the side. He made to roll Arthur over, but caught sight of his back and swore. Despite himself, Merlin had to smile. Whoever this was clearly wanted to help the prince, and the fact he was chained himself showed that he wasn't one of the tormenters. At least, that was what Merlin thought until he suddenly revealed a small dagger clenched in his opposite hand.

"Retineo!"Merlin's hand shot out in front of him and his eyes flashed as the man's hands were suddenly jerked above his head, held there by an invisible force. "I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"I'm not hurting him!" The man struggled furiously against the spell, but it wasn't for any reason that Merlin was the warlock of prophecy, feared and respected by other magic-users. It wasn't until Arthur's breathing changed again that the man stopped fighting. His words became desperate. "The cuts? They are new, yes? The only way to administer both the poison and the antidote is through a fresh wound, I've seen them do it. Please... you obviously care for him, or you wouldn't have risked what you did. I swear I don't want to hurt him, but if you don't let me down, there will be no time. Unless you give it to him yourself? All it takes is a small cut..."

Not being sure whether he could trust the man or not, Merlin prised the dagger from his restrained hands. He had nothing to lose; Arthur's breaths were coming shallow and short now. He bent down over the form of the prince, but stopped.

"I can't... I can't hurt him..."

"Then let me. You can kill me if you don't like what I've done; I've got nothing left to live for. But I can save him!" Merlin locked eyes with the man for a moment, before dropping his gaze and nodding. He saw nothing but the truth there, and with a muttered word, the spell was removed and the man's hands dropped to his side. Immediately, he snatched the dagger from Merlin's hand and approached the prince. Despite the fact Arthur was unconscious; Merlin still winced when the man made a small cut on his upper arm. Immediately, he tore the stopper off the bottle with his teeth and poured the contents over the wound. Before Merlin could say anything, he closed his hand around it, forcing the liquid into the cut.

Arthur instinctively bucked, but Merlin gasped when he heard the immediate change in his breathing. It was getting easier again. The man stood back, breathing hard as Merlin bent down.

"Arthur?" He tenderly brushed his hair back once again, and couldn't help but marvel in the way his skin seemed to have cooled. The burn flared white once more, but Merlin didn't think he would ever be so relieved to see Arthur open his eyes as he did right then. Part of him knew it was cruel dragging him back to consciousness, but it meant he was alive.

"You did it!" He whooped, the first true smile he had smiled in eight months splitting over his face. "He's alive!" The man smiled tightly back, sitting down on the floor and drawing his knees up under his chin, staring at the calmer Arthur. If the prince knew he was there, he made no attempt to show it. He had rolled onto his side, staring into the fire with an intensity Merlin had never seen before. His arms were wrapped around his stomach, his knees drawn in, clearly trying to make himself as small as possible. His movement had made the blanket slip.

Approaching him, Merlin kept his movements calm and soothing, one hand reaching up for the material. He could see dark bruises on the hip that was revealed, and Merlin felt a flash of pure fury shoot through him. With a conscious effort, he forced it back, making to tug the blanket up over Arthur again.

He wasn't expecting the prince's face to immediately close down. Arthur's chin rose slightly so he wasn't looking at Merlin, and the warlock could see tremors running up and down his legs from where he had obviously tensed.

"Arthur? It's just me, it's Merlin. I won't hurt you, you're safe now. Trust me, Arthur..." Keeping up a constant flow of soft reassurances, Merlin let his hand stretch out once again. Arthur flinched, but moved no more, allowing Merlin to pull the blanket back over his legs properly. "See? You're safe."

As soon as he had covered Arthur, Merlin pulled away, not wanting to crowd the prince. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast though. Would the Arthur he knew come back to him? There had been that flicker of recognition before, but still Arthur had pulled away. Merlin couldn't blame him. He had seen the injuries, he had witnessed firsthand what men like Dunran had done to the prince. It was going to take more than a few bandages before Arthur was alright again.

Crouching down next to the stranger, his eyes flashed wordlessly, and the chains fell off him. The skin underneath was red and raw, but a smile lit over his face.

"Merlin." Merlin stuck out his hand, determined to try and thank the man. He knew without this person, Arthur would be dead. The younger of the two didn't take it, but instead climbing to his feet, walking over to Arthur. "Leave him." Merlin said softly, rising himself in order to intervene.

The man didn't get any closer, but instead stared down at the prince. "I know who you are." He eventually admitted quietly, his voice sounding close to tears. Merlin blinked.

"You do? How?"

"Arthur used to talk about you. About all his friends back in Camelot. He knew the stories stopped me being so afraid of the dark. They used to punish him for it, but he wouldn't stop. He always made sure I felt safe." If Merlin thought the youth had sounded broken before, it was confirmed when he caught sight of the shaking shoulders in the dim fire light. He didn't say anything though, knowing the man was not finished.

"It's been at least three months since I last heard one. Since I last heard any sound from him in fact. I don't know what they did that day, but he hasn't uttered a sound since. How he keeps it in, I have no idea. But it doesn't matter what they do. He won't make a sound."

Merlin moved forward, putting a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. For a moment, he tensed, before relaxing again.

"What's your name?"

"Randolph." He said quietly, taking a deep breath as if to compose himself. "But Arthur always just called me Rand." Merlin smiled. Typical Arthur to come up with some sort of nickname.

"Well, Rand, you will hear him tell one of those stories again. We've got him out; he's alive thanks to you. The King will reward you for your help, no doubt. You can do what you want, go where you like now."

"The King? Why would the King reward me?" Merlin frowned at the confusion in Rand's voice.

"Who is this?" He asked, pointing down at the tense figure curled at their feet.

"Arthur."

"Arthur who?"

"I don't know, he never said. Just said he was Arthur and that he lived in Camelot." Merlin felt a slow smile spread across his face as he crouched down. Arthur was still gazing into the fire, but didn't flinch away as Merlin brushed his hair back once more.

"So you aren't always a prat then." He muttered softly, turning to face Rand, but leaving his hand where it was. He didn't see another flicker of recognition in Arthur's eyes at his words. "Rand, meet Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince and sole heir to the throne of Camelot."

Merlin had never seen the colour drain so quickly from someone's face before, and he leapt up just in time to stop Rand from falling.

"Prince?" He gasped, his eyes finally meeting Merlin's smiling ones, who nodded softly. "I just saved the prince's life?"

"You did." Merlin glanced around him, realising the sun was practically fully risen and the fire was dying down. He needed to get back to tending to Arthur's wounds. They were far too close to the building for the warlock to be happy with, but he knew he wouldn't be able to move Arthur like this. Never mind magic, Merlin knew he had to take this slow to let the prince's body adjust to the changes it was going through. With any luck, having a day free from being beaten would be enough to do the trick. But he couldn't do this alone...

Coming to a sudden decision, Merlin looked Rand straight in the eye.

"Can you ride?" When the young man nodded, Merlin crossed over to the horse. Within a matter of moments, he had removed anything else he might need, making her load as light as possible. "She knows the way home. Ride hard and fast, get back to Camelot. Find Gaius, the Court Physician. Tell him I've found him." Tears shone momentarily in his eyes. "But that I need his help. And tell him to bring the Round Table, he'll know precisely what I mean."

Merlin took hold of the horse's reins, leading her back to the edge of the clearing. He watched silently as Rand swung himself up before passing him the reins. But the warlock didn't let go.

"Rand, you saved the prince's life. But you can end mine just as easily. Please. Say nothing of what I can do?" For a moment, confusion was the only emotion evident, but then Rand nodded. He smiled slightly as he adjusted his grip.

"I don't know who you are, and apart from a few tricks, I don't really know what you can do. All I know is that Arthur tried to help me, and you are trying to help him. I won't say a word."

And with that, he touched his heels to the horse and she shot off. Within moments, her thundering hooves were swallowed up by the sounds of the forest waking up. Walking back over to the dwindling fire, Merlin poked a couple of new sticks in, knowing the flames were giving Arthur some sort of comfort. It was the least he could do considering he wasn't able to get near the man himself.

"Just you and me now, Sire." He muttered heavily, sitting back down and twirling a stick around his fingers, not being sure what else to say. He finally glanced back at Arthur, and felt his breath catch in his throat. Arthur was looking at him. Not just his eyes pointing in that general direction like the times before, but genuinely looking at him, meeting Merlin's gaze head on.

"Arthur?" Merlin's words came out as nothing more than a breath. Arthur blinked slowly, but didn't look away. And then, to Merlin's horror, his eyes filled with tears.

He had never seen the prince look so broken and defeated.