A/N: Am now contemplating doing my own series 5 re-write (they're all the rage, you know) since ideas for the other episodes have started flowing in with increased intensity.
Nance: Because that would make too much sense! Also, in Camelot miming is a crime worse than sorcery (or so I'm imagining).
But really, this flood of reviews has got me flying high as a kite- and no, it's not the drugs.
At least, I'm pretty sure... *checks ingredients* Yeah, it's not the drugs.
Warning: cruel cliffhanger ahead! I hadn't planned to do this, but it happened anyway.
Arthur, in his dress armor and ceremonial pomp, had one last stop to make before heading to the treaty signing.
"How is he doing, Gaius?" The king asked, looking down at his servant's serene face.
"He woke this morning and seemed to be better, but then he got agitated and went crashing about the place." He waved his hand at the overturned bench and scattered items that had been knocked from the worktable. "I had to sedate him after he hurt himself."
Arthur frowned at this news.
"Did it seem like he was trying to tell you something? He seemed desperate to give me a message of some sort when he woke last night, but fell asleep when I gave him the pain reliever."
The elder blinked.
"Oh dear... well I certainly hope not. He's likely to sleep all day now that I've knocked him out."
The two spent a moment looking at the younger man in concern before Daegal appeared at the door alongside a guard.
"It's time, Sire." The guard informed them, waiting respectfully to escort them to the signing.
Gaius sighed and motioned the druid boy forward.
"Do you remember what each of the potions are for?"
The youth nodded, seemingly hesitant to speak in the king's presence.
"Good. Keep an eye on him- if he does wake, make sure he stays in bed. I'll return as soon as I can."
Daegal bowed as the two left the room and settled onto the stool at Merlin's side.
He had answered Emrys' earlier call, but gotten no response- unsurprising considering the man's current state. Still, it had sounded urgent...
"Emrys."
The invalid shifted slightly in his sleep.
"Emrys!" He reached forward and shook the man gently.
The warlock's eyes cracked open slightly, unfocused and empty-looking.
"Daegal?"
The younger boy sighed in relief- his 'voice' was a bit fuzzy, but at least he was awake.
"You called me, Emrys?"
Suddenly Merlin sat straight up, reaching out an arm and clutching at Daegal's shoulder once he found it.
"I need your help, Daegal- Morgana is going to have Arthur killed at the signing with Sarrum's aid. Do you know where the king is right now?"
"He just left for the meeting hall, they'll be signing the treaty any moment now."
Cloudy eyes blazed gold as Merlin forced himself out of the bed and into a standing position, leaning heavily on Daegal who had risen to support him.
"The physician said you should remain in bed..."
"I'll be fine, but Arthur won't be if I stay here. We need to get to the hall."
The druid nodded.
"Tell me where to go."
Several moments of awkward maneuvering later, Daegal and Merlin were limping through the halls.
The druid supported the warlock on one side as the latter trailed his hand along the stone castle walls.
"We're almost there, just around the next-"
Merlin halted suddenly, hand encountering empty space where there should be a door.
"Emrys?"
Spots danced across his vision like fairy lights illuminating an impossibly dark space and he fought to align them with the area he wanted to see.
Frustrated, he turned to his companion.
"Daegal- what is this to my left?"
"An open doorway leading to some stairs going up."
Merlin cursed internally, shielding the unfriendly words from his younger counterpart.
"The assassin must be up there- this door should be locked. Help me up."
In need of extra support on the steps, Merlin seized a spear from a conveniently placed rack that appeared in one of his circles of light.
Daegal on one side and makeshift walking stick in hand, the two made good time on the stairs in relative silence.
At the top Daegal pulled Merlin to the side.
"What-?"
"The assassin is right around the corner- what do we do?"
Merlin turned his head so he could see (more-or-less) what was directly in front of him, and pushed Daegal back against the wall.
"You stay here, I'll take care of him."
"But Emrys-"
The warlock ignored the boy's protests and lurched forward, leaning heavily on the spear and brushing one hand along the wall to keep himself grounded.
Sarrum's man, completely focused on his target, didn't even notice the other presence until Merlin flung up a hand and wordlessly hurled him back.
Understandably startled, the sniper pulled the trigger and sent the bolt sailing down below with deadly aim- though not where he intended.
Merlin panicked slightly at the sound of chaos erupting in the room below and rushed to the mezzanine proper, but couldn't manage to get a proper view of what was going on.
"Emrys!"
Daegal's warning was the only thing that saved the servant from being tossed unceremoniously over the railing, though he still found himself struggling to keep a dagger away from his chest as he was bent over backward against the barrier.
The warrior's greater bulk was crushing him and his intermittent sight was once again failing- though he wasn't sure if that was unrelated or if he was blacking out again.
He heard running footsteps and felt another body impact the one above him, a shout rending the air as someone plunged to the floor below.
"Daegal! Are you alright?"
Hands grasped his shoulders lightly.
"I am well, are you hurt?"
The youth's mental voice was strained and Merlin placed a hand on his chest, trying to find the problem magically- something that turned out to be unnecessary when his fingers met with a warm liquid seeping through the boy's clothing.
"You are not well. Sit, put my hand on your wound- is anyone else here?"
"No... we're alone."
"How bad is it? Tell me honestly."
"Not too deep, just a slash- a bit long, though."
Daegal's words were getting softer, more forced, but he followed Merlin's instructions- settling down next to him with his back braced against the wall and placing one pale hand against the cut.
The warlock hoped his magic was up to the challenge, healing had never been his strong suit and he could feel that the injury was much more serious than the druid was willing to admit.
"Hold still."
Merlin concentrated on the wound, mouthing the words in hope that it would help reinforce his mental incantation.
"Ic hæle þina þrowunga!"
He felt the magic flow out of him and into the wound, felt the flesh knit together in a way he was usually oblivious to- perhaps his blindness was beginning to heighten his magical senses?
Hearing the approach of soft footfalls in the stairwell, Merlin quickly performed a spell to repair the damage to Daegal's tunic- leaving everything as if the wound had never occurred.
"Who comes?"
The other boy didn't answer and Merlin swore lightly- he had passed out during the healing.
He was back to not being able to see at all and didn't much like his chances if the person approaching happened to be an enemy.
"You!" An outraged voice said in a dangerously soft tone.
Gwen...
This was bad. He knew the queen was his enemy for the moment, but there was no way he could harm her.
"This is the last time you will get in the way."
The venom in her voice was nearly enough to cause physical damage on its own and Merlin found himself trying to scramble away, tripping over Daegal's legs in his blindness.
He heard the scrape of metal against marble and rolled instinctively, barely escaping the thrust of the dagger Guinevere had retrieved from the floor.
"It'll be less painful if you just hold still!"
Merlin continued rolling, trying to guess where the next attack would come from by the sound of her voice.
He succeeded in evading the weapon once, then twice, but ultimately failed when the queen fell silent before driving the knife into his shoulder to the hilt.
His mouth opened in a soundless scream as she tore the metal from his body, about to make a more lethal strike when the cries echoed up from below.
"Where is the queen?"
"Queen Guinevere!"
"Your Highness!"
It was so silent the servant thought he had cheated death once more, until the sharp point slipped between his ribs and a cold voice whispered in his ear.
"Long live Morgana Pendragon."