A/N:

The Red Bucket has spoken...all hail the Red Bucket of Merlin Prompts! This next one goes to Felicity P, who has requested a borderline drowned and hypothermic! Merlin. Let the Whump begin...

I don't own Merlin

CHARACTERS: Merlin, Arthur & Knights

RATED: T

GENRE: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

THE ADVENTURES OF MERLIN

Frozen

Night fell quickly upon the men, as they stumbled tiredly through the crystalline drifts of snow that covered the forest floor.

Their horses where dead, brutalized by the men whom had ambushed them so thoroughly, that Arthur was sure they had used sorcery to mask their approach.

The attack was swift and merciless, leaving Arthur and the Knights no time to draw their weapons before the majority of their patrol was slaughtered. Of seventeen men, five remained; the King himself, Gwaine, Percival, Leon and – thank the Gods – Merlin, somehow managed to escape and evade the massacre.
Arthur and Merlin ran neck and neck, sweat cooling rapidly against their skin in the cold weather, the remaining Knights where just a little behind the pair of unlikely friends.

'Do they pursue us?' Arthur called over his shoulder, as the blackness of the night threatened to smother them. They needed to stop and rest, preferably somewhere that would keep the sheltered from prying eyes.

The King slowed to a jog as Sir Leon caught up with them. 'It would appear not, my Lord,' he panted, his breath forming before them in a flurry of white.
Arthur stopped completely, resting his hands upon his knees as he inhaled deeply to slow his pounding heart.

Merlin turned back and upon seeing that the men had ceased their pace, dug his feet into the snow to stop himself.
He should have known that his luck would choose that moment to flee, because at that point, his impossibly long legs tangled and he tripped on his own feet, sending the youth sprawling...into empty space.
The darkness was such, he had not noticed the ravine that he could have avoided – had he stopped sooner – and he was only able to give a short cry of warning before connecting the hard ground and tumbling down the rocky slope – and no amount of snow cushioned his slim body against the boulders that tore at his skin. The raven haired youth didn't even have time to take a breath as he plunged head-first into a not-quite-frozen-over lake.

The water was slush, and it bit into his skin like sharp needles – so unbearably cold, it was almost hot. He gasped at the shock of it against his body, and water rushed down his throat in a torrent, stealing what remained of his breath.

Merlin tried to swim, but he was so disorientated that he did not know which was up. His limbs were like lead and he gave a feeble kick as darkness crowded his vision.

Lords, he was going to die...he was actually going to die...

Panic clenched at his heart as he began to flail, his magic sluggish as his heartbeat began to slow.

No, no, no, no! He had a Destiny to fulfil! A King to protect!

But...no.

The blackness was edging further and further across his already dim vision, and as his body slowly shut down, more of the icy water flooded his lungs.

His last thoughts were of Freya as the darkness swept him away.

*~*M*~*

Merlin's short cry of astonishment brought Arthur from his racing thoughts. Honestly, what had that idiot gone and done now?

'Merlin, did you fall over your own feet again?' The King asked haughtily, striding in the direction of the youth's cry.

There was no response – just the sound of loose pebbles, probably disturbed by shifting snow, as they rolled down the side of the incline.
With a sigh of exasperation, Arthur turned, hands on hip and tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the big-eared idiot to pull himself out of whatever hole he had clumsily stumbled into and grin at him sheepishly, but the sound that greeted his ears next was far from reassuring.
A heavy splash resounded from somewhere in the dark below them and Arthur stiffened, glancing upon his Knights, who too, had reacted to the noise with the same fear as he.

'Merlin...' he breathed, eyes wide as they finally spotted the edge of the ravine he had not realised was so close. 'MERLIN!'

Adrenaline pumping through his blood and sharpening his sight in the dark, Arthur slipped and slid down the slope, ignoring the dark smears against the pale snow as he followed the path that his manservant made during his obvious tumble.

Damn it! I was too cold – that water...

Reaching the edge of the lake, The King raked fearful eyes over the ice mottled surface, before being drawn to a flash of red close by.

'Shit!' Arthur hissed, dropping to his knees and reaching out to grasp the fabric that floated close by. As his fingers breached the surface, he almost recoiled in shock; but fear spurred him to reach just a little further...

As he clasped the soaked sleeve of Merlin's worn tunic, three equally worried Knights approached from behind to assist in the retrieval of the sodden servant.

Grunting with effort, Arthur clutched the boy under the armpits and dragged him from the water completely before falling back and catching the limp form against his chest.
Gwaine reached out with a shaky hand and held it close to Merlin's lips and Arthur watched – his heart tightening when the Knight's face fell.

'NO!' Arthur roared, heaving the boy up and embracing him from behind before flipping him against the snow covered beach and kneeling by his side.

Merlin's skin was so pale; it was almost translucent – except for his lips and the tips of his ears, which were a startling shade of blue.
Remembering Gaius's words, about breathing for somebody who couldn't, Arthur pinched the boy's nostrils closed and formed a tight seal against the frozen lips with his own.

He exhaled heavily several times, before leaning up and beating his fist against the Merlin's still chest.

'COME ON, YOU CABBAGE-HEAD!' He screamed, his eyes burning as his best friend lay as a corpse before him. 'I ORDER YOU TO BREATHE!'

After the tenth slam of his fist, the chest expanded and a choking sound brought Arthur's eyes to Merlin's face. Lips opening and closing silently, like a fish out of water – the youth struggled to draw breath through water he had undoubtedly swallowed.

Swearing colourfully, Arthur rolled him onto his side and clapped him upon the back, sighing in relief as the youth vomited the water from his lungs.

He dropped his head until his chin rested against his clavicle and took a shuddering breath as he continued to rub soothing circles against the small of Merlin's back.

That had been close. Too close – for the King's comfort, and he wasn't out of the woods yet. Merlin's breath wheezed unnaturally, and beneath his hand, Arthur could feel the strained expansion of his lungs.

Probably the most worrying thing that had occurred to the young royal, was the fact that boy was completely still. Not even the smallest shudder wracked his slim frame.

Sir Leon crouched by Arthur as Gwaine and Percival disappeared into the night, off to find some form of shelter by unspoken agreement.

'This is not good, my Lord,' Leon muttered gravely as he rested a large hand upon the King's shoulder. 'He is far too cold.'

Not very well versed in the art of the Physician, Arthur frowned. 'Shouldn't he be shivering then?' He asked, rolling the youth back towards his body and meeting thin slits of cobalt as Merlin peered up at him in confusion.

'...'thur?' He breathed as his brow furrowed. 'S'cold.'

'Sire, shivering is the body's natural instinct to stay warm – he needs treatment immediately, or he could die.'

Arthur swallowed roughly and lifted the boy gently to rest against his chest.

'We have found a deep cave, not too far from here,' panted Gwaine as he stepped from the shadows. 'Percival has organised the supplies and is building a fire as we speak. We need to warm Merlin up, and fast...before he burrows.'

The King frowned as he dragged the mostly limp youth to his feet and swept him into a cradle-carry, not dissimilar to the way Percival had carried him the time he was touched by the Dorocha.

'Burrows?' Arthur asked, knowing already that he wouldn't like the answer.

'Among the streets it is known as the hide-and-die syndrome. It is the final stage before death, when the victim enters small and enclosed spaces in order to await their end.' Gwaine explained, his dark eyes holding nothing but fear and worry.

Arthur and Leon followed the dashing Knight through the deep drifts of snow, the King attempting to stay calm as images of his friend curled up in a hole entered his mind unbidden.

There was no way he was going to let that happen. He planned on doing anything in his power to save Merlin.

Anything.

Well, this one decided it wanted to be one of those stories...you know, when you have a clear picture of how the story is going to turn out and then it begins to grow until there is no way you want to fit the whole thing into one chapter?

Yeah.

So I'm breaking it off here and I will continue it in a couple of chapters. How suspenseful :P