A/N:

This next one was supposed to be for Camoc, however this idea came to me and I decided to use it as a filler instead of having a 'Dark Tower' what if following another. I'm not sure if any of you have the same problems with 'The Coming of Arthur - part 2', but I felt as though there should have been more of a battle between Merlin & Morgause. I honestly didn't think Gaius would have enough magic to inflict the damage he did upon her. What could have been an epic battle turned out to be somewhat anti-climactic, so I have decided to re-write the scene. This, of course, means Merlin whump…but I'm pretty sure you guys love it, so I make no apologies.

*I don't own Merlin – but I do have a packet of chips…

CHARACTERS: Merlin, Arthur, Lancelot, Knights, Gaius, Morgause and Morgana

RATED: T

GENRE: Hurt/Comfort, Adventure & Angst

WARNINGS: Pretty sure this one could be the whumpiest of all so far...I'm not holding back, Merlin Fans, just letting you know now, Merlin gets the crap beaten out of him...Reveal!Fic

THE ADVENTURES OF MERLIN

Battle for Camelot

The blonde witch screeched as her eyes fell upon the spilt chalice. The scarlet liquid was harsh against the grey stone as it dripped languorously from the golden vessel.

Her dark eyes flashed in fury as they fell upon the wretched serving boy, who held his sword in a white-knuckled grip, breathing heavily.

His sharp cheekbones held a flush of pink from exertion and he eyed the woman warily as she circled him as a wolf would surround its prey.

'You,' she hissed vehemently as he squared his shoulders, intense cobalt meeting her predatory gaze. 'What have you done?'

Merlin adjusted his sweaty grip upon Excalibur's hilt and lifted his chin, determined not to cower before her.

'It's over, Morgause. You and your army have been defeated. Leave now or your life is forfeit,' his voice was firm and commanding, belying the panic that was bubbling in his chest.

The sorceress threw her head back and laughed. 'A serving boy, threatening me? You are a brave little one - always so quick to jump to Arthur's defence…but you and your steel are no match for me!'

Her eyes flashed gold and with an imperceptible jerk of the head, Merlin was lifted off his feet. Grunting in pain, he slammed against unforgiving stone, an unseen force pinning him tightly to the wall. He struggled to draw breath as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, constricting his lungs.

Blearily he watched as his mentor approached the blonde from behind, his hand raised with a barely concealed tremor.

'Oferswing!' He bellowed loudly, his eyes flashing – but the spell did naught but make her stumble. Her magic never lost grip on Merlin.

'Fool,' she spat, knocking Gaius back with a lazy hand. 'As much of a fool as you, Merlin,'

She approached the struggling boy slowly, her eyes tracing every contour of his lithe body, like she was trying to read him, figure him out.

A murmured spell fell from her lips and invisible fingers wrapped around Merlin's throat, squeezing.

'You will die for your insolence, servant,' she growled, watching in cold amusement as the dark haired youth struggled to draw breath.

'Let him go,' Lancelot snarled, clutching his wounded side as he finally found the strength to get to his feet. He shuffled closer, watching the scene cautiously, silently screaming at Merlin to use his magic.

The Warlock gasped, his eyes drooping as he felt his strength flee. If he didn't do something soon, he wouldn't survive long enough to see his destiny through.

The grip tightened as Morgause turned her head. 'Come any closer Knight, and I will snap his neck,' she barked, grasping the boy's neckerchief.

Merlin shuddered – he could feel his magic roiling angrily beneath his flushed skin, desperate to lash out. It would not be to his advantage, revealing his secret to Morgause now – but the alternative was death, so with a deep breath, he roared.

His eyes flew open, gold flickering across cobalt irises, and Morgause relinquished her grip, stumbling backwards. Merlin slid limply to the floor, but regained his stance quickly, gripping the magical sword once more.

'Do not cross me, Morgause. I am more powerful than you ever could have imagined,' the young man said with quiet fury.

'NO!' The sorceress bellowed, jumping to her feet. 'IT IS NOT POSSIBLE!'

She let out a harsh scream, pouring her malice and power into the ancient words, and Merlin was airborne once more.

A distant crash resounded in his ears, and as he crashed to the floor, he realised in bewilderment that he had just been thrown through the heavy wooden doors of the throne room like it was nothing more than parchment.

Morgause was far more powerful than he anticipated, but grim thoughts would surely be his end, so with wince, he ignored the hot blood soaking his tunic and retaliated.

'Ástríce!' He incanted, thrusting his palm out as if to push her over…but she merely stumbled. Cursing colourfully, the Warlock clambered to his feet, but did not release his waning magic.

'I thought you were powerful,' Morgause laughed cruelly. 'You will not be a match for me, or my sister.' She noted the look of horror on his pale features as he turned.

Morgana, dark and powerful and mighty, stood at the other end of the corridor, her eyes flashing with fury. 'You could have helped me, Merlin! Instead you turn to murder…' she hissed.

Guilt settled upon his gut like a stone and he tried to push it away. He would not be goaded.

'I HAD NO CHOICE!' Merlin bellowed in reply, blasting his magic towards Morgana. Being the weaker of the two, the rush of power sent her flying several feet.

The young Warlock took this window of opportunity and pelted down the corridor, away from the vengeful women.

'COWARD!' Morgause screeched as Merlin rounded the corner, heading for the entrance hall and his escape. 'You will face me! Ablinn ðu;forlæte ðu nu!'

Once more, Merlin felt himself sailing through the air, panic rising as his enchanted body travelled inexorably toward the reinforced oak door.

*~*M*~*

Supported between Gwaine and Percival, The Prince Regent limped towards the courtyard. The battle had halted abruptly, the enemy warriors suddenly combusting and disappearing without a trace. Not that he was complaining or anything.

As the trio approached the front steps of the castle, the leaden doors shattered outwards, and a familiar dark haired figure slammed heavily on his left side and all but bounced bodily down the stone stairs.

Arthur's eyes widened, his cerulean gaze locked upon the young man, who, despite a rather rough landing, was still conscious and struggling to get to his feet. The Prince sucked in a breath of panic as he took note of his friend's condition. The side of his face was shrouded in red as blood flowed at an alarming rate from a gash on his forehead and his lips were slightly parted as he panted heavily, attempting to put some weight on his left leg. Arthur immediately saw his problem – through the thin material of his tunic, Merlin's left hip bone jutted predominantly from his body.

Dislocated, Arthur thought grimly as the youth gave up trying to stand on it and opted to drag it behind him as he shuffled from the blonde woman approaching from behind.

Arthur and the two Knights were still frozen and speechless at the sight of the gangly servant, covered in dust and blood, hobbling towards them, determination blazing in his features.

'Stop standing there looking like a prat! GET OUT OF HERE!' Merlin bellowed, the strength of his voice giving lie to that of his body.

'Atæse!' Morgause cried, standing before the shattered door, her palm outstretched toward Merlin. With a gasp, the youth's nimble fingers clasped at his neck, as terrible gashes appeared, stark against his pallor. Blood slipped through the trembling appendages, and the boy swayed precariously.

Recovering slightly from the shock of seeing Merlin in such a state, Arthur rushed forward, fear burning at his heart.

'ARTHUR PENDRAGON! YOU WILL STOP!' Morgause commanded, gaze never wavering, even as Morgana appeared at her side in a flurry of grey mist.

With a jerk, she unsheathed a dagger from her boot and began to strut down the blood-smeared steps, her dainty chin held high.

Arthur couldn't move. The knights couldn't move.

They could only stare in horror as more of Merlin's precious life force slipped through clutching fingers. How Merlin was still on his feet was beyond him.

A twist of Morgause's hand, and Arthur understood as Merlin crashed to his knees with a grunt. The sorceress was controlling him – preventing him from losing consciousness. Torturing him.

'Does His Majesty know of your little party trick?' Morgause asked sweetly, placing a boot upon his chest and kicking savagely.

The young man didn't cry out.

'ANSWER ME!' She screamed, lashing out again.

Merlin pressed his lips together and screwed his eyes shut. He could feel the burn inside, unrelenting agony caressing every nerve ending, threatening to pull him under. He was on the precipice of unconsciousness, but he was somehow unable to fall into the welcoming darkness that would ease his suffering.

A calloused hand gripped at his raven mop and pulled back so their gaze could meet.

Fire and vengeance and pure unadulterated rage flickered in the sorceress's brown eyes and Merlin shuddered, suitably terrified.

'Tell him. Who. You. Are.' She ground out, her jaw clenched as she raised the dagger.

'Merlin, whatever it is-' Arthur began, but was cut off by the gaze of death itself. Truly afraid, the young Prince shivered as he watched the hovering blade dubiously.

'One last chance, little one,' she crowed, opting for the gentle approach.

Then Merlin did something that both surprised and pleased Arthur. He screwed his face up into an unrecognisable scowl and spat – a clot of bloodied spit sprayed upon her cheek and she flinched. 'Get fucked,' he hissed.

The woman was frozen for several seconds, but as the shock of his actions wore off, her face contorted in a rage so powerful that dark clouds gathered above in an instant, crackling with lightning.

She began to chant, her words imperceptible over the peals of thunder and the blade of her dagger sparked, threads of hot, blue light dancing across the polished metal.

'SO BE IT!'

With an animal cry, she plunged the enchanted blade down. It tore a ragged scream from Merlin's lips as lighting seared through his blood, arching his back as the weapon rent flesh and muscle.

'MERLIN!' Arthur cried, still unable to move and feeling physically ill.

Despite the pain, the blood loss and utter exhaustion, Merlin was still unable to succumb. His magic roiled and seethed, desperate to fly, and Merlin turned his head towards Arthur, his cobalt irises almost fully dominated by black.

'I will tell you who I am,' he began firmly, eyes apologetic as he turned away from the Regent. 'I am an idiot, a dolt. A bumbling, pathetic excuse for a manservant.' He pushed Morgause away, blade still embedded in his flesh as he stood. 'I am a packhorse, a target, a laughing stock.' His voice rose and Arthur shrank back. 'A physician, a herb gatherer, a water fetcher, an entertainer.' Merlin's hand curled around the sorceress's throat and squeezed. 'I AM A PROTECTER! A CONFEDANT! AN ADVISOR! A FRIEND! A BROTHER TO THE ONCE AN FUTURE KING!'

Arthur's heart swelled at the last comment, pride and love for his friend dominating all emotion.

The youth's voice lowered. 'You. Will. Not. Take. That. Away...I will be forgiven, because one side of the same coin could never truly hate the other.'

'W-who are you?' Morgause whimpered, now over powered by fear.

'I. Am. Merlin,' he grasped the hilt jutting from his chest and dragged the blade free without twitching. 'I AM EMRYS!'

Blue light engulfed the pair – pure and beautiful.

Arthur was mesmerised and suitably afraid. Somewhere nearby, he heard his sister scream. Merlin had magic.

The shimmering radiance surrounded Merlin like a halo and despite the blood and dirt, Merlin was beautiful - sharp planes and delicate fingers – which had released Morgause.

He was like an angel.

That was the first time his father's spiteful words regarding the evils of magic were dismissed. Finally able to move, he approached the man, the radiating spell whispering across his skin like a gentle kiss. How could this be bad? How could beautiful, gentle, kind Merlin ever be evil?

Sensing Arthur's cautious approach, Merlin tensed and turned slowly, his breath catching at the look of fascination upon his master's face. There was no wrath etched into his handsome features – just curiosity, with a smattering of concern.

Slowly, the glow dissipated, drawn back into its owner, by no means diminishing the fierce magnificence of the man before him.

Eyes on each other, the pair barely noticed when Morgana gripped her sister tightly and disappeared into thin air. They weren't aware of the other knights rushing forward, carrying the wounded and covering the dead. Lancelot and Gaius stepping through the rubble, calling their names incessantly could not even pull them from this trance.

This contest went as such for several minutes – the two men, just staring, reading, figuring out – and as quickly as the spell bewitched them, it ceased and the pain was back.

Burning, roiling, bucking, searing white hot agony burst into the young Warlock all at once, like a tidal wave.

Merlin gasped, and as his eyes rolled back behind fluttering lids, he pitched forward.

Arthur leapt forth without hesitation, catching the falling man under the armpits – the dead weight bringing him down beneath him.

'GAIUS!' he cried, his voice hitching in panic as Merlin's hot blood soaked him in a matter of seconds.

The old Physician hobbled over, his face lined with panic as he took in the image of his ward.

'Oh dear gods, Merlin...you stupid boy!' He admonished the unconscious Warlock.

'DO SOMETHING!' Arthur screamed, his voice breaking as emotion stuck in his throat.

Gaius turned to Gwaine and Percival. 'Get them both to my chambers now.' He ordered, picking up the hem of his dragging robes and shuffling, with the help of Lancelot, towards his chambers.

Gwaine turned to lift his friend from atop the royal and froze. Arthur's fingers twined through Merlin's unruly mop, stroking and soothing while he pressed his forehead against the others.

He was crying.

'Don't die Merlin, please. I forgive you. I forgive you,' he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut.

The knight glanced at Percival, whose throat convulsed at the sight – the sorrow of the young man threatening to turn them both into quivering messes.

Shaking the emotion away for now, Gwaine crouched down and rested his palm atop Arthur's dishevelled blonde mane.

'Arthur, let me take him...I will be gentle, but he must go to Gaius now,' the Knight murmured quietly, stroking Arthur's hair as he did Merlin's.

Choking on a sob; Arthur nodded, his cerulean eye shrouded in pain and grief. 'Don't hurt him Gwaine,' he pleaded, sounding less like a Prince, and more like the youth he was first and foremost.

Gwaine flashed him a reassuring smile, and with as much tenderness as he could muster, scooped the unconscious man into his arms.

'C'mon mate,' he muttered to Merlin, as he rose to stand, waiting for Percival to follow suit. Arthur had been reduced to a shuddering mess, so out of the norm and decidedly not Arthur, as when he was lifted by the bulky Knight, not a word of complaint left his quivering lips.

Gone was the man, for the moment replaced by a heartbroken boy, who could very well have his best friend torn from his life.

Taking long, smooth strides, their speed ate the distance between the courtyard and the Physician's chambers, and soon the Knights carried their burdens over the threshold.

As Gwaine lowered the boy gently to the bed, he noticed wide pain-filled orbs staring back at him, consciousness returning. It would not be pleasant for the youth.

Seeing that his friend was awake, Arthur extricated himself from Percival's grip with an annoyed huff. Arthur the Prince was returning slowly.

He limped over, settling upon a stool that Gwaine produced as he watched Gaius gather his needed supplies.

'Merlin...you idiot,' Arthur reprimanded gently, brushing a lock of dark hair from Merlin's blood-soaked brow.

'Art-ur,' he managed, his eyes glassy with concussion.

The Prince smiled reassuringly. 'Yes Merlin, It's me – I am not here to execute or banish you...although I'm thinking about punching you in the face when you can manage it,' he replied lightly.

Merlin chuckled, but instantly regretted it as pain lanced through his body.

'Arghh...shit,' he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Arthur bit back the emotion that was threatening to spill forth, and a few tears slipped by unchecked as Gaius handed him a damp cloth.

'Use it to clean the blood away please, Sire. I need to determine the severity of the wounds,' the old man explained upon noticing Arthur's dumb look.

With a nod, he tenderly wiped the gore from Merlin's brow, growing more concerned as the gash was revealed. Bone was just visible – a sliver of white amongst flesh, and Arthur was sick.

'Dammit,' Gaius swore, feeling overwhelmed at the severity of the youths injuries – he only had two hands and at least a billion bleeding wounds to tend to.

Noticing the Physicians panic, Gwaine and Percival volunteered themselves, while Lancelot watched from the floor, his wound forgotten.

Gaius took a shuddering breath and handed each of them a cloth. 'Anything that is bleeding more than a trickle, clean. The disinfecting will come after the bleeding has been controlled.'

The pair nodded and set to work as Gaius continued to prod.

Arthur lifted his head from the pail that rested between his knees, remembering the jutting hipbone and wincing.

'Gaius – his left hip his dislocated. He was favouring it earlier.' He mumbled, receiving a grim smile of thanks from the old man.

'Thank you Arthur...I'm going to need your assistance with this,' Gaius replied, unlacing the boy's breeches and gently pulled them down past his thighs.

Merlin shivered. 'This is going to hurt, isn't it?' he asked softly.

'My word it is boy,' the Physician replied honestly, before turning to the Prince. 'I need to you hold his upper body while I jerk the bones back into their correct positions. He may injure himself further if he flails.'

Arthur nodded and stood behind Merlin, draping the weight of his upper body against Merlin's. His nose brushed Merlin's chin and he could feel the boy's hot breath panting in panic against his abdomen.

Gaius gripped the youth's hip and upper thigh tightly and without a warning, wrenched mightily.

The Prince nearly swallowed his heart at animal scream that was torn from his friend's lungs, and was almost relieved. He was unconscious – hopefully unaware of their ministrations. It was going to be a long night.

*~*M*~*

Hours passed.

Wounds were cleaned and stitched, poultices applied.

Merlin was lucky to be alive – as they worked, more problems that could affect his life cropped up. Fractured skull, ribs – heart arrhythmia.

Days passed.

Merlin was still unconscious, swathed in bandages and blankets. He had a fever. Sweat and blood and pus filled Arthur's days, but he would not leave his side. Camelot was having an extended public holiday. It was known as 'Prince-Arthur-is-really-pissed-off-and-worried-because-Merlin-wont-wake-up'.

He wouldn't leave.

Two weeks.

Merlin did not open his eyes for two weeks. Arthur had tried being nice, joking, telling him to get his sodding, lazy arse out of bed and attend his master.

When that failed, he tried begging. Crying like a child; fear and worry coursing through his veins.

Then he grew annoyed. Angry and frustrated. He screamed and swore and threw things, and shook the poor youth – praying for a response, because he looked too still. Too much like death.

Then he felt guilty for shaking his friend and embraced his limp form, refusing to revert back to the wet and blubbering mess of phase 1.

Camelot was in perpetual holiday.

When Arthur caught sight of those cobalt orbs, after being hidden for so long – he thought they were the most beautiful things he had seen in a while and damn it if this whole, blasted situation wasn't turning him in to a huge, white, lacy girls petticoat.

'Merlin!' he cried happily, gripping the edge of the bed and leaning forward – afraid to hurt him.

The boy blinked, slowly. Lazily.

And promptly threw up.

'S-sorry,' he gasped, his voice hoarse and rough from disuse. Arthur just smiled and cleaned him up, handing him a glass of water.

He took it with a trembling hand and sipped slowly.

'You scared me.' Arthur said abruptly, and Merlin's eyes dropped. 'You almost died after that last trick of yours. I was terrified.'

Merlin shook visibly. He knew. He finally knew.

'I...I'm...' the youth stammered.

'Not capable of stringing together an intelligent sentence? Yes I am aware.' Arthur finished good naturedly.

Tears slipped unbidden from Merlin's eyes and Arthur sighed. 'You dolt,' he murmured gathering the boy in his arms.

'I almost lost you, brother.'

Sobs now, great gasping sobs. Arthur held him for an hour while he cried, before settling him back to the pillows.

'Prat,' Merlin murmured.

'Idiot,'

'Dollop head,'

'Twat,'

'Clotpole,'

'Merlin...'

'Shut up?'

Arthur patted his head.

'I'm glad you're alright – awake it least, if not alright yet.'

Merlin smiled, such a free and gentle smile; like the weight of the world had been lifted of his shoulders. The burden of his secret was gone, and now he could fulfil his Destiny without getting distracted by having to keep his secret from the Royal Arse.

'Merlin?'

'Hmm?'

'You do that to me again...'

'Stocks?'

'A month.'

END

Wow...I think that was the longest! Once I started to think about it – the more it annoyed me and the more I had to get it down! I hope you guys enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next one is for Camoc. PROMISE!

R&R