Sorry for the long wait! But, finally, the third chapter is here!
I wanted to post it before I left for Greece... I wrote half the chapter while I was on my boat. Don't worry, even if I'm on holiday, I won't stop writing. The next chapter is already half completed.
I had to write this chapter three times; I hope you'll like it!
It had been three days since Arthur had brought Merlin to the physician's chambers.
After a few hours the servant had spent laying unconscious in the king's bed, he had showed the signs of developing a fever. Gaius had declared that it would be easier for him to treat his young charge in his own room, for he had all the tools he needed there - not to mention that the familiarity of the place could help Merlin recover more quickly.
The old man had inspected once again the wound and had noticed - much to his surprise and displeasure - the settling of an infection, despite the great care with which he had bandaged the warlock's chest. This development could very well cost Merlin his life, for if the internal damage could be healed and the blood flow staunched, they had no way to know that the warlock would be able to overcome the illness.
Gaius knew that if Merlin survived the first night, he would have a better chance at living. But after two long days of nothing but heavy breathing and twitchy fingers, he had begun to lose hope.
That was what Arthur thought, at least. The old man would never really give up on the servant, on the man who was like a son to him - and if he did, he would never forgive himself. Nor would he ever say aloud that he was losing hope. He wouldn't admit it - not to him, the king, who viewed Merlin as the troublesome younger brother he had never had (not that he would ever say it) and who needed the warlock beside him - not to the queen, who had just lost her brother and whose face still bore the signs of her grief.
When Arthur had noticed how the physician - who had probably slept poorly during those three days - looked exhausted, he had decided to keep vigil on Merlin in Gaius' place for a short time, to give the old man a chance to rest.
There he was, slumped on a wooden (and extremely uncomfortable) chair, wiping Merlin's clammy brow with a wet rag. From time to time his gaze would fall upon Guinevere's sleeping form; the queen was half-lying on the bed on which her friend laid, tear tracks still evident on her cheeks, holding tightly - even while asleep - the young man's pale hand.
Arthur had been mildly surprised by the woman's reaction to Merlin's condition - she had been a nervous wreck for the first few hours - though, in hindsight, he understood why he shouldn't have; so soon after Elyan's funeral, the servant's almost-death was bound to scare her terribly.
Ah, that was what confused him the most; he still didn't know how Merlin had ended up in his state. The only one who could know about what had happened was the queen.
He was pulled out of his reverie by Guinevere, who had slightly shifted. She groaned softly and opened her eyes, liking around dazedly, trying to take in her surroundings. When her eyes fell upon Merlin's sleeping form she stiffened and stood up, pouring herself a glass of water with shaking hands.
"Guinevere?" called Arthur hesitantly, not knowing how to react to her sudden tension.
The woman turned around and swallowed when she locked eyes with her husband. "Arthur," she choked out. "There's... something you should know."
Her words put him on edge, but he didn't know why. She had been behaving strangely for some time, but he had thought it was because of the grief she had felt due to her brother's death. Was there something more to it, something he hadn't noticed? "What is it?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
The queen began to torment her purple dress, twisting the rich fabric with her hands, while biting her lip in anticipation. "I-It was me. M-Merlin... It was me who stabbed him," she explained, closing her eyes in the vain hope to block the images dancing before her eyes. Merlin looking at her, grinning... Merlin falling on the ground in a pool of blood. The bloodied dagger in her hand... She shook her head.
Arthur looked at her wide-eyed. "What...?" he breathed, incredulous. No, it can't be, his heart seemed to whisper. Had she really...?
Guinevere's brown eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry! I was under Morgana's control, I was enchanted, I didn't want to hurt Merlin! Please, Arthur, you have to believe me! I'm sorry..." she explained through her silent tears. "I'm so sorry..."
She stopped talking when she found herself enveloped in a warm hug. "I believe you, Guinevere," he whispered, stroking her dark hair tenderly. She returned the hug eagerly, gripping the back of his shirt with her hands as she sobbed. Arthur continued to hold her, soothing her, until her cried subsided. He gripped her shoulders firmly and locked eyes with her, opening his mouth to say something - but he was interrupted by a low moan.
He turned around, followed by the queen, and dropped to his knees beside Merlin, who was trashing in his bed, his forehead glistening with sweat. He was whimpering pitifully, his brow scrunched up in fear.
Nightmares, was Arthur's first guess - and he was uncomfortably reminded of Morgana's cries when she used to come to him, of all people, seeking solace in his brotherly embrace.
And then, as suddenly as lightning flashed in a sunny day, Merlin whipped up in his bed with a yell. One of Gaius' glass vials shattered in thousands of little pieces, that flew in every direction. Guinevere yelped in fright and Arthur's eyes widened in shock, while Merlin's gaze travelled around the room in confusion.
He locked eyes with the king and gasped in fear. He bolted out of the bed, scrambling backwards until he ended up with his back pressed on the wall, panicking. "I'm a monster..." he whispered, his fearful eyes staring into nothingness. "I'm a monster..."
His eyes - with speckles of gold still glowing in them - rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed, his body hitting the floor with a thud.
DUN DUN DUN DUUUUN! Reveal-time!
(08/03/2013)