Written for the Febuwhump prompt: Hive mind

"Whenever you're ready, Merlin!"

"I'm trying." He didn't so much as glance at his king, speaking through gritted teeth. The crash of swords surrounded the clearing, along with the loud pops as their attackers' flung spells at the knights.

When it came to defending themselves against physical weapons, the knights of Camelot were more than a match for most opponents. Where they couldn't defend themselves, a friend was there to watch their backs. Gwaine and Percival were fighting side by side; Elyan and Leon back-to-back. Arthur, of course, had planted himself in the middle of the melee. He'd say he was drawing attention to defend his men, but Merlin knew better: he loved the rush of a fight even after all these years.

Merlin's job, however, was the magic attacks. He was alternating between shielding his friends and finding the sorcerers hidden among the trees, trying to counteract their magic and stop them from causing any further harm. He didn't want to kill them, but if he couldn't neutralise the threat, he had no other option.

Right now, there were a few too many to handle. They seemed to have realised who was scuppering their plans and the attacks were coming faster and faster. He was having trouble juggling both defence and attack...

"Merlin!"

"Legalise magic, he said," Merlin muttered, "it would make things simpler, he said. It's not so simple now!"

Arthur had grown used to Merlin being part of their attack strategy now: he relied on the magic to keep his men safe. While none of them had grown complacent – yet – it put a lot of pressure on the man used to working from the shadows.

With an extravagant twist of his hand, he sent a pulse of energy throughout the clearing. It dissipated all the magic in air in one swoop, following the threads of power back to those casting the spells. There were a few yells and a couple of thuds as the sorcerers had their own magic turned back on them.

"About time," Arthur panted. With a flourish, he dispatched the man he was fighting and moved to help Leon. Without having to duck the spells that Merlin couldn't catch in time, the knights quickly finished the fight.

As the final bandit (or whoever they were) fled into the trees, Gwaine let out a laugh.

"I haven't had a brawl like that in years!"

"They shouldn't have been here," Arthur said in a quieter voice. "The northern border was supposed to be secure."

"Well, it's secure now we're here, right lads?"

Leon gave Gwaine a warning look and the knight backed down with a grumble as he took out his water skin. Elyan was wiping his sword clean while Percival looked around as if he had been strolling leisurely through the forest rather than fighting for his life.

Merlin saw Arthur scanning the trees intently.

"What is it?" His magic might be strong, and free to act as it wished these days, but Arthur's instincts still seemed to be quicker.

"There's someone still out there," he murmured.

Before Merlin could search the surrounding woods himself, a sharp voice rang out. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up at the power in that voice. The air seemed to grow colder, sounds and colour muted as another wave of magic rolled from the trees.

"Watch out!" Merlin cried, forgetting his own power and shoving Arthur out of the way.

But although the king stumbled, the magic was all around them. Merlin snapped his fingers, a flame glowing on the tip of one as he looked around. A dark cloud surrounded him, cutting him off from his friends.

"You're strong," a voice hissed in the air. No. Not in the air. In his mind. "But are you strong enough?"

"Show yourself." He commanded back, reaching along the telepathic connection, trying to find the source of the voice.

As quickly as it arrived, the dark cloud wafted away on a hidden wind. Merlin gave a shaky exhale, relief crashing through him when he saw his friends were still standing.

"Are you alright?" he asked Arthur.

The king didn't answer. He just stood there, motionless.

"Arthur."

No response.

"Very funny," Merlin muttered. He turned to Gwaine, who was also just as still. "You too?"

But when the man didn't move, Merlin figured ignoring the twisting feeling in his gut wasn't a good idea. He had known for years that Arthur was a prat but Gwaine was less likely to go along with it, especially after a fight.

Elyan, Percival and Leon were just as motionless. Merlin swallowed.

"Arthur, can you hear me?" He moved in front of his king. Arthur didn't move; didn't so much as blink even when Merlin waved his hand in front of him.

There was a vacant expression on Arthur's face. His eyes were glazed but his body tense. Merlin looked at the others, only to find they mirrored the king's expression.

Merlin stepped back. Magic rose in him, but he didn't know what this was.

"You're strong enough to fight me. But are you strong enough to fight them?"

"Show yourself!" He repeated, looking into the surrounding area but to no avail.

"I don't need to. Kill him."

The final words were said out loud: a command to the motionless knights. As one, all five of them drew their swords, turning to face Merlin in unison. Their movements reminded him of the Knights of Medhir, and Merlin swallowed, taking another step back.

"You have to fight this," he said. "You're stronger than this. Arthur, come on, fight it."

There was no recognition in Arthur's face as he advanced in-step with the rest of his men. He didn't give any indication that he could even hear Merlin.

Merlin tried a spell, something he'd read about once to combat mind-control but had (thankfully) never had the chance to try before. Although the golden mist enveloped all five men for a moment before fading away, they continued to advance.

He stepped back again, only for his back to hit a tree. There was no where else to go. Even as he tried to think of another spell, Arthur suddenly swung, forcing him to duck. But Gwaine was right on his heels, making Merlin slip to the side as he tried to avoid the thrust.

"Stop!" he cried, magic empowering his voice. It still wasn't enough: Elyan slipped through the others, his blade scoring a thin cut down Merlin's leg. He hissed, feeling the blood trickle, but knew that despite the sting, it wasn't deep. He couldn't focus on it now.

Looking down was a mistake. Arthur's sword raked across his arm, while the hilt of Leon's slammed into his gut.

"S-stop," he stammered, the pain dropping him to his knees. He tried another spell, but whatever the sorcerer had done, it was a sophisticated magic that needed finesse to unpick.

On the ground, he stared up. At his friends. At his king. At the murder in their eyes and the weapons in their hands.

Arthur's sword was suddenly under his chin, forcing his head up. He nodded at Percival, who sheathed his own weapon and strode closer. Merlin didn't have time to squirm away before the man hauled him to his feet, one arm wrapped around his neck.

Forgetting magic, Merlin choked, trying to push at the grip, but it was like iron.

"Arthur," he whispered, "please."

"Kill him." The words surrounded them: they were whispered from the trees; murmured from the bushes; shrieked from the birds taking flight.

"Kill him," Arthur repeated, a clear order to his men.

"Don't," Merlin wheezed. "It's me."

He had to break through this. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn't use brute force the way he would if this was an enemy. These were his friends. It was Arthur! The man he'd sworn to protect. He'd lay down his life for his king, but not like this...

Percival's grip on his throat was too strong. He could barely breathe, let alone think of how to get through to five men intent on his death.

But as Percival restricted his grip further, he saw it. Arthur, Leon, Elyan and Gwaine all twitched, their right arms jerking slightly, as if mirroring Percival's movements.

Darkness started to prick at the edge of his vision as he helplessly clawed at Percival's arm. The man was rigid: Merlin didn't stand a chance at getting him to move and he didn't want to hurt his friend by forcing him with magic.

Unless... unless Percival was already moving.

Tilting his head as best he could, Merlin drew in a ragged breath.

"Go on then," he said quietly, locking eyes with Arthur. "Do it. It should be you."

He wasn't speaking to his king. He was speaking to whoever was controlling the knights. Arthur's lip curled and his sword thrust forward.

Time stopped.

Or, at least, slowed so much it might've well as stopped.

Merlin felt the twitch in Percival's arm, saw the same thing happen to all the knights, as their bodies responded to Arthur's movement. It was just enough for some of the tension to leave Percival.

Arthur's sword was coming straight at him, though. Even with time under his control, Merlin knew he had to act quickly.

He twisted his head to the side, ducking his chin so Percival's grip wasn't as absolute. As he did so, he angled to one side, trying to make sure Arthur's sword would miss him.

The slight movement in Percival's arm was enough: Merlin forced a hand in the gap and pushed with all of his strength, gasping as air flooded his bruised throat. He simply applied pressure to the movement Percival was already performing. With time slowed, it didn't matter it had only ever been destined to be a twitch; even Arthur's lunge was little more than a twitch right now.

He managed to slide free. But Arthur was closer than he'd reckoned. Although he'd shifted enough to stop the king from running him through, he hadn't shifted enough.

Cold steel made pain burn down his side. A long cut blossomed red; hand sticky as he pressed it desperately against the wound; agony stealing his breath in a strangled grasp. Free from Percival's hold, Merlin found himself on his knees again without being conscious of how he got down there.

Magic exploded even as time resumed itself.

He couldn't risk his power against the spell holding the men enslaved, not until he could be sure he wouldn't destroy their minds in the process. But it wasn't their thoughts he needed, just their bodies. With a wordless cry, he froze all five men in position.

Hand pressed tight to his side, Merlin tried to stand. It took him a few attempts until he was steady enough to draw himself up, but he wasn't sure whether it was his bruised throat or the numerous cuts that now littered his body that stopped him.

"You cannot defeat all five!"

"I don't need to," Merlin murmured, more to himself than his hidden enemy. "Just one."

They were acting as if one thought controlled them all. One thought was a lot easier to change than stopping five armed men.

He looked from one to another. It was no decision, not really. Standing in front of Arthur, he stared at the man for a long moment.

"It's me," he said quietly. "You don't want to kill me. Actually, you do, multiple times a day. But you don't want someone else choosing for you."

He could hear chanting coming from the bushes: the sorcerer was working to lift his immobilisation spell. He should be able to hold it for long enough, but he could feel himself weakening as blood trickled between his fingers.

"Please, Arthur. Come back." As he stared into Arthur's vacant expression, an idea came to mind. He lifted his bloodied palm to his mouth and whispered to it.

After a second, a blue orb glowed to life, hovering between them.

"Remember me. Remember this."

Merlin moved it, just a tiny amount, and could've shouted in relief. Arthur's gaze was following the orb. He wasn't looking at Merlin, but watching the magic. The first piece of magic he'd ever seen that hadn't meant to harm him.

"I can't watch over you if I'm dead," Merlin said softly.

Arthur blinked. For a second, Merlin couldn't tell if the blue in his eyes was just a reflection of the magic or if it was Arthur coming back to himself. He didn't have time to question it: with a shout, the sorcerer freed the rest of the knights from their statue prisons.

He sensed Percival lunge from behind, aware of four swords moving. But only three were heading towards him.

With an almighty crash, Excalibur shot to the side, angling in such a way that he deflected his men's swords, driving them harmlessly off to one side.

"Merlin?"

Gwaine staggered and swore; Leon looked aghast; Elyan and Percival both stepping quickly away. But Arthur was furious.

"Gwaine, take care of Merlin. Leon, with me."

"You can't," Merlin began. Arthur could not go into the forest after the sorcerer. If he'd been powerful enough to enslave him once, there was nothing stopping him from doing it again.

"I can, and I will." He took a step away, but Leon held out a hand.

"Listen."

They all heard it: frantic footsteps as their attacker darted away, obviously realising their plan had failed. Arthur looked like he wanted to pursue but Gwaine swore again and he turned back.

Merlin had managed to lean against a tree, batting away Gwaine's concerned hands.

"I'm fine."

"You're covered in blood. Lift your shirt."

"What do you know about bandaging wounds?" Merlin knew his voice didn't sound like his own though: it was weak compared to usual and he was starting to feel light-headed.

Arthur moved closer, pushing past Gwaine. With quick hands, he jerked Merlin's shirt out of the way, then blanched when he saw the wound.

"I did that."

It wasn't a question, and Merlin groaned.

"Of course."

"Of course, what?"

"I've lost count of the number of times you've been enchanted and don't remember a thing. Why did you choose this time to remember?"

"Why didn't you stop us? I know you could've."

Merlin gave a shaky laugh.

"No, I couldn't."

Arthur looked blank for a moment, then understanding dawned.

"You're an idiot." He glanced over his shoulder. "Someone bind this."

It was a two-person job to wrap the length of bandage around Merlin's torso with enough pressure to stem the flow of blood. Arthur may not have gone as far as asking for help, but he refused to let anyone else tie off the end of the bandage. It took a while before Merlin could reassure him that he wasn't about to pass out (in the end, it took pointing out which one of them had lived with Gaius for years), but finally, Arthur gave the order to head back to Camelot.

It was going to be a slow walk. Although the cut on his leg had stopped bleeding, it still stung. Merlin didn't say anything, although was painfully aware that none of his friends could meet his eye. Never mind what the sorcerer had tried to make them do, the fact they remembered it seemed enough of a curse.

"Next time we try to kill you, stop us," Arthur suddenly ordered.

"There's going to be a next time?"

"With you, Merlin, most likely."

Merlin rolled his eyes but continued limping after them. There was no point in arguing but whatever Arthur said, he'd never use his magic to hurt his friends. No matter what they were trying to do to him.