Performing One's Purpose--Part 1
Part 1.
With dawn’s arrival Merlin groaned and covered his head with his pillow. He hadn’t been able to get to sleep for some reason; thoughts jumping from one thing to another. Merlin had spent the night tossing and turning as he tried to find a comfortable position on his thin, straw-stuffed mattress.
Light leaked through the sides of his sole window and from around the door. He could hear Gaius shuffling around downstairs, ever the morning person. Peeling back gummy eyelids with a tired sigh, he sat up.
Except he wasn’t tired. Even after a sleepless night and the long day before, he felt like he could run a mile without breaking a sweat. A sluggish energy flowed through him, like warmed honey, making him feel restless, like he needed to get rid of some of it or else he would burst.
Standing, he made his way around the room, pulling on the things he would need today. His thicker pair of breeches and sturdy boots for walking through forest. A light shirt since it would be warm, though he would be wearing his customary jacket and neckerchief.
Dipping a ragged piece of cloth into his squat pitcher of lukewarm water, he did a quick wash of his face, hoping it would help get rid of the circles that must be under his eyes. A quick run-through of fingers through hair and he decided that he was as presentable as he could get.
Stopping briefly to scrape up the wax where it had spilled the night before from his bedside table into a lumpy ball, he grabbed his small pack that he had put together last night and left his room. As he walked down his small flight of stairs, he set the pack down and dropped the lump of wax into a small bucket with the one he’d used up a few days ago, when he’d had that dizzy spell.
Gaius was just setting out their breakfast: a lumpy pottage of oats and gruel with only a small drizzle of honey the only real flavoring, some hardened bread left over from the day before and a jug of well water, still reasonably cool.
He gave a small mental sigh. He knew he shouldn’t. There were many others in Camelot who had even less than this. Except, he couldn’t help but compare it to the food he would soon be delivering to Arthur’s chambers. Already, he could almost smell the ham and sausage, lightly scrambled eggs, maybe a little fruit. Water, of course, Arthur didn’t like wine or any sort of alcohol so early in the morning, especially right before a training session or on a hunting trip like today.
“Merlin, are you all right? You seem distracted.” Gaius’s voice broke into his thoughts and he came back to his surroundings. It was then he looked down to see he hadn’t taken a single bite of his food, just pushed it around in the bowl, his free hand tapping a jittery pattern against the rough wood of the table.
He consciously forced his hand to still and then took a spoonful of his gruel. It was bland; honey was only able to do so much before it became overpowering with sweetness. Forcing it down, it sank heavily to the pit of his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous. “I’m fine, just restless.” He didn’t mention the sleepless night, not wanting Gaius to worry or have to worry about Gaius forcing him to drink some potion to help him sleep. Just the thought of one of those elixirs had him shuddering and losing what little appetite he had left.
He waited for Gaius to finish the last of his food and rise, and while the older man’s back was turned, he let his eyes flash briefly to gold, sending the food to the slop pile in the back of the castle were the kitchen was. Standing as well, he pasted on a smile, taking his bowl over to their water bucket and rinsing it out before setting it with the rest of their dishes face down so it could drip dry.
Turning, he saw Gaius watching him, but he kept his smile in place, hoping it would fool the old physician. Gaius sent a shrewd look his way before turning away to pick up a small bag off his work bench. “I put together a small pack, just the basics, all labeled. There’s always at least one person who gets hurt on these big hunts.” He arched his eyebrow at Merlin. “Usually you or Arthur,” it implied, and Merlin couldn’t help but give an affronted huff.
“I’m not that clumsy.” The eyebrow stayed up. “It’s not my fault. Arthur has some sort of gift for attracting trouble whenever he steps foot from his room, sometimes even in there as well.” That was true. With Morgana gone once again, he would have figured they were at least safe in the castle. After the first assassination attempt following her thwarted coup of Camelot, he’d given up trying to be subtle and now kept at least one eye on his crown prince, if not two or more, gathering allies in his quest to keep Arthur alive. Gwen and all of the knights had readily agreed with him, seeing the sense in it. Arthur couldn’t always be on alert and he needed people to watch his back.
Gaius nodded in agreement, handing over the pack. “Fine.” He peered up at him. “Are you sure you are all right? You’re looking paler than usual.”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired. Took me a while to get to sleep last night.” The lie was easy, simple and plausible. It seemed with each one he told, each day he was here, it became a little easier to say them. He still stammered over big, obvious lies, but the rest had so far gone undetected. It should make him uneasy, but he felt nothing really. It made his life a little easier and made it a little easier to hide what he was in plain sight. There was only one lie that still made him feel guilty and he hoped to one day reveal the truth, though now was not the right time with Uther still on the throne.
Looking through the window in the main room, he saw that the light growing stronger. It was time to go get Arthur’s meal and get him ready for the hunt. “I’ve got to go, Gaius. I’ll be back later this evening and hopefully no one will get hurt.” Gaius nodded, patting him on the shoulder before turning back to his workbench, mind already elsewhere.
Slipping through the main door, Merlin jogged most of the way down to the kitchens. Sleepy kitchen maids smiled at him as he entered, their hands busy with making breakfast, only stopping to wipe already sweating brows as the main cooking fire roared in its hearth, and filled the room with heat as bread rose and meat cooked. Arthur’s tray was already made up, set aside from the busy flow of traffic of the kitchen. Nodding in thanks to the head cook, he quickly left, sucking in cool air as he rose higher into the castle where the royal suites were situated.
Using his shoulder, he pushed gently against the door, opening it with only a slight squeak from the hinges. Arthur was awake, though still in bed. The crimson duvet was shoved to the end of the bed, only a sheet covering his hips and legs, upper body bare, what light that came through the still closed curtains highlighting his muscled chest as he leaned against the headboard.
Arthur’s blue eyes tracked him as he walked in and set the tray down before going to shut the door. “Did you remember to sharpen my sword and check my chainmail?”
“Yes, Arthur. Your horse has been reshoed, and the broken buckle on your saddle has been fixed and is waiting with the rest of your tack in the stable,” he replied. The door was shut, just the two of them in the room. Arthur only ever called him on using his name when he slipped up and said it in front of someone who didn’t know of their odd friendship…or Uther.
“Good.” He pushed himself up off the bed, back muscles rippling from the effort. As the sheet started to slip down, Merlin politely averted his gaze, heading for Arthur’s wardrobe to get his outfit ready. Thin undershirt, his gambeson to cushion and protect him from the chainmail, thick, fine-spun breeches, and high black leather boots meant for running through forest completed the outfit.
Merlin carried these over to where he stood behind the screen, draping them over the top and setting the boots beside the screen, a pair of socks set on top. As Arthur dressed, he went back to the table and started setting out his breakfast, filling his goblet with clear water. Once he finished with that, he went to a chest set against the wall next to the wardrobe.
Opening it, he pulled out Arthur’s folded chainmail, shaking it and giving it a once-over for any out-of-place links. Done, he draped it over the back of a chair. Arthur’s sword was propped up against his bedside table in easy reach in case he was attacked while he slept.
Arthur stepped back into view dressed except for his socks and boots, which he ignored, walking barefoot with catlike grace and silence to the table where he sat down. As he ate, Merlin tidied up the room and made his bed. After five years of doing this over and over, even Arthur couldn’t complain about him being a horrid manservant, so now he just ignored him in the morning. Arthur wasn’t a morning person.
“Have you packed for the hunt?” he asked as Merlin started to pick up his dirty clothes from behind the screen and the general vicinity. Merlin still hadn’t cured Arthur of the habit of throwing his clothes on the floor wherever he pleased. He didn’t think he ever would.
“Yes, and Gaius packed a medical kit just in case someone gets hurt.” Arthur grunted in reply and went back to his breakfast in silence.
Looking around, he checked for any pieces of missed clothing. He’d have to drop these off at the laundress’ before they left. He’d stopped washing Arthur’s clothes himself after he’d done it too hard and scrubbed a hole into his favorite shirt. After Gwen had fixed his mistake with her clever needle work to keep Arthur from finding about the hole, she had shown him where he could drop the prince’s clothing off to be washed by professionals to be picked up later. He blessed her constantly for that tidbit of information which made his day and workload a little easier.
Seeing that Arthur was still occupied with breakfast, he stepped out to drop off the dirty clothing. By the time he returned, Arthur had finished and was just pulling on his socks and boots. “I’ll just return this and help you with your chainmail.” Another grunt in answer, which he took for agreement. Piling everything back on the tray and whipping the table down quickly, he left to return the dishes to the kitchen.
He was back a few minutes later, hands empty of the tray but laden with another pack from one of the kitchen maids, smaller than the others, filled with simple fare for him to eat while riding out on the hunt. Thoughtful, but his appetite still hadn’t returned and he wasn’t sure his stomach would forgive him if he tried to eat while riding his horse.
Arthur was standing by the window, staring out across the roof tops of his city-- or it would be his when he became king, if he became king. But that was Merlin’s job, to make sure he lived long enough to feel the weight of the crown on his head. Setting the pack down with the his own pack and the one Gaius had given him, he was going to have a hard time carrying these not to mention most of Arthur’s gear, and went to the chair where he had laid the chainmail.
“Arthur,” he called, drawing the prince’s attention from the view. He blinked owlishly for a second as if he was just wakening. Seeming to pull himself together, Arthur strode over, boots thumping on the stone floor, seven times to reach where Merlin stood, holding up the chainmail for him to wear. A small struggle had it on and over his head and shoulders, the links clicking softly as they came to rest heavily against his collarbones and shoulders.
Merlin grabbed his sword and belt, kneeling down to wrap it around his trim hips, cinch it tight, the sword a balanced weight on his left hip, resting in the indent years of wearing it had created for it on the belt. He helped Arthur with his leather vambraces, tucking the trailing sleeves of metal links into them to lock them into place and then they were done, the image was complete.
He hadn’t always worn chainmail out on hunts, but with the still fresh attack on Camelot, the forests around the castle were not as safe as they had been. Now, Arthur took precautions to insure his safety. With Camelot’s people still reeling from Morgana’s betrayal, Camelot’s succession was on a shaky foundation. Now was not the time to gamble with fate.
He’d always thought this image of Arthur was the best. He always seemed happiest when they were setting out for a hunt, with no responsibilities hanging over his head or duties holding him back, forcing him into the role of crown prince. At times like this, he could be just Arthur, the young man behind the title who so rarely was given reign. He thought Arthur glowed when he was like this, but that could just be his imagination.
They left without a word, Arthur shutting and locking his door behind them, Merlin picking up his packs, hoping Arthur decided to go light with his gear today. The hunting gear and weapons were kept in storage in the stables. It made it easier to get to them than having to go all the way to the weapons storage room on the training paddock.
The others were already there, dressed similarly. Gwaine grinned and clapped them both on the back as they drew near. Lancelot and Elyan just nodded, Percival waving slightly as he let out a huge yawn. Leon was just coming up, his horse saddled and ready. “Sire.” He broke the silence with ease of practice.
Merlin continued towards the stalls that held his mare and Arthur’s charger. A high spirited gelding, Herestræl tossed his head, dark brown mane and coat twitching with excitement and the need to stretch his legs and run. Smiling in understanding, he set the packs down and walked to the wall to pull down both horses’ tack.
Working quickly, he readied them; feeding Herestræl a sugar lump as a bribe to stand still so he could get him ready faster. He didn’t even try and trick him like the first time he’d saddled this horse. Back then, he’d never saddled one before, had never needed to and hadn’t known any of the tricks a horse pulled to keep from being saddled. Arthur had yelled at him for a long while, face covered in dirt from where he’d landed in a mud puddle after the saddle had slid sideways, girth strap loose.
In contrast, his horse was placid, reminding him a lot of their cow back home who would spend all day just standing in the sun munching on clover and hay if she could. Cyssan stood still, not even fidgeting as most horses did when they were being saddled. Except underneath the placid, light gray exterior was hidden a core of steel. He’d witnessed first-hand how quickly she could shift personalities. He hadn’t known when Arthur had first given her to him, but she was a trained warhorse, one that could be relied on to keep from panicking in battles and skirmishes. Since she had saved his life many times when his attention had been elsewhere, mainly on keeping Arthur alive. Arthur of course didn’t know he knew the hidden secret of his gift and he left it that way.
Finished, he led the two horses out. Herestræl tossed his head, tugging at the reins wanting to be free. His horse just ambled on like she had all the time in the world. The packs were strapped to her saddle and as Arthur handed him the hunting gear, he added those as well, setting them gently on her sides and balancing them so they didn’t jostle or hurt her on the ride.
They set out, the conversation nonexistent until they cleared the walls of the city. It soon flowed easy, ranging from all areas of conversation, none caring that Arthur was prince and all but two of them peasants by birth. They all included Merlin in, seeing him as just another knight, though without the title of course. He had served Arthur long enough and had saved him enough times to have earned that much respect.
“We’re never taking Merlin to a tavern again.” Gwaine joked as he finished his story of his, Merlin’s, and Lancelot’s trip to the tavern a few weeks prior. “He can’t hold his drink at all.”
“I can so hold my drink!” he growled back at him, cheeks and ears flushing a light pink in embarrassment.
“Yeah, a cup before you’re singing at the top of your lungs and tripping over your feet more than usual.” Gwaine laughed loudly, head thrown back.
“Lance…,” the other knight held up his hands, not wanting to take sides. Up ahead, Arthur was laughing with Gwaine, light shining off of his blonde hair. He hadn’t heard Arthur laugh like that in a while and decided his embarrassment was worth it to hear it again.
He had no idea why Gaius called these hunts big. They were tiny next to the hunts on the major holidays, when all but the youngest and oldest men ranged out through the forests, hunting down game to fill the tables of the castle and the homes throughout the city. Those were big and usually kept him and Gaius on their toes for at least a couple of days treating anything from sprained ankles to hangovers after the celebrating was over. This though, this was just a group of men, friends even, going out to hunt and if they didn’t bring anything back, well that was all right as long as they had fun.
They would of course bring something home. Arthur would be unable to not bring something home; always doing what was expected of him as a knight and prince, even when he was trying to get away from it. And of course Merlin would try and keep that from happening as much as he could. Five years of trekking through forest was enough time to hone his skills of walking silently. He could if he needed to, but mostly he was content to keep from tripping over any roots in the path. Arthur of course didn’t know this, since he deliberately went out of his way to step on the big twigs and dried leaves.
They didn’t go far, about two hours ride from the castle, just far enough that they wouldn’t need to worry about what they might say or do in case of prying eyes and ears. The small clearing was littered with leaves, undisturbed by horse hooves or human feet, though a few animal tracks crossed it, a few days old, by Arthur’s estimate, which was usually right.
They dismounted and got to work setting up camp, and soon had a fire going. Merlin quickly stripped their packs from his horse, setting them at a safe distance from the fire.
Already Arthur was in motion, restlessly prowling around the clearing, looking for any signs of fresh passage. Every few steps, he would crouch down, examining the ground, touching damp soil and dry leaves, gauging how recently the tracks had been made.
Merlin gave a small mental groan as he realized this would be one of those run-all-over-the-place-after-anything-that-moved hunts. He could see it in the way Arthur held his shoulders, the muscles tense in anticipation, his fingers clenching around a crossbow that he didn’t hold yet.
Sighing, he quickly sorted through the pile of gear, sorting out what Arthur would carry, his crossbow and bolt quiver, maybe the food pack if he was still hungry. Merlin shook his head; he’d watched Arthur clearing his plate this morning, and he wouldn’t be hungry for a while yet. He put the food pack with his own set of things to carry.
Medical pack, food pack, water skin, and a small sharp knife used mainly to skin the kills, but it also doubled as protection, though against what he didn’t know since he had yet to use it for that purpose. Sliding the sheathed knife into an inside pocket he’d had sewn into his jacket, he picked up the packs and water skin, settling the weight evenly over his shoulders and back.
Arthur stalked up, snagging his crossbow and quiver, settling them on his person with easy familiarity. The others were also ready, Elyan the only one still seated, having already declared that he preferred staying in the camp to hunt. What it really meant was that Elyan was shit with a bow or crossbow and would only end up hitting one of them by accident.
Smiling at the knight, he waved and had to rush to catch up with the others as they jogged out from the clearing. Arthur just shot him a look that screamed ‘idiot’, but didn’t say anything as they continued on. Merlin caught Gwaine’s eye, and they shared a smirk at the disgruntled prince.
The forest was quiet except for the occasional bird singing, the sun fairly high in the sky and warming the air underneath the canopy of leaves they stood beneath. Merlin could barely suppress his grin as he stepped on a large twig that gave a loud, pleasing crack, startling the deer up ahead and sending it fleeing.
“Merlin, must you make so much noise?” Arthur growled out, turning a glare on his manservant. Merlin just gave one of his usual grins, shrugging nonchalantly in the face of Arthur’s ire. “Stay behind us, and try to keep from making too much noise,” he growled out and spun, stalking further into the woods. Merlin just grinned behind his back.
“You know, you keep this up and it’s the stocks for you,” Gwaine whispered as he brushed past Merlin. In spite of his serious voice, he was grinning just as much as the servant, enjoying the prince’s ire as a sort of pastime.
Merlin didn’t say anything as the rest of the knights passed him and Gwaine followed, leaving him to take up the rear. Deciding that he had antagonized Arthur enough, he stepped carefully, avoiding stepping on anything that would make a sound large enough to startle game. Lancelot turned and sent him a knowing look, but his eyes were smiling at his friend, seeing through Merlin’s game. He turned back to catch up with Arthur.
He was so engrossed in keeping up and watching his steps that he failed to notice the moment when the forest went silent. He had already traveled some yards before he noticed, looking up from the ground to look around.
The others had gone a little further ahead of him, but stopped as Arthur seemed to have sighted new prey. He was motioning, sending them around to flush out their prey as he readied his crossbow, fingers moving in familiar, silent motions. The others nodded, moving away to circle the creature, leaving Arthur and Merlin to keep watch.
Something was wrong though. The forest only ever got this silent when something was coming…or already nearby. He felt it then, a niggling little voice in the back of his mind that was screaming magic, strong magic!, was close by.
Deciding to risk disturbing Arthur and startling his prey again, he stalked forward silently until he was behind the prince. “Arthur…”
Arthur jumped, having not heard his approach from behind. “Shush, Merlin, you’ll scare the deer off with your big mouth.”
“But Arthur…”
“Merlin, shut up!”
He stalked ahead on silent feet, ignoring Merlin’s glare at his back, as he raised his crossbow to aim. It was then Merlin felt it, a tingling on his skin as whatever magic was nearby drew closer. He took a step closer to the prince and saw it.
It wasn’t large, compared to some of the other things they had faced, but it was still larger than either of them, with scaled skin dappled in brown and black, that allowed it to blend into the shadows. He wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the creature’s eyes shining golden from the shadow of a bush.
It reared up, unobserved by the concentrating prince, mouth opening to allow hinged fangs to lower, clear venom dripping from the pearl-colored bone. He reacted without thought, mind-crystal clear and focused on one thing as he rushed forward. “Arthur, look out!” He jumped forward just as the thing struck, shoving the prince away from its downward path.
They landed in a pile of limbs, the crossbow knocked out of Arthur’s hands and the packs scattered. The creature let out a hiss of frustration, rearing back again as the two scrambled to straighten themselves, Arthur already reaching for his sword.
He shoved Merlin to the side, rolling up and onto his feet in one graceful move, drawing his sword with a hiss of sharpened steel. Merlin lay there for a second; catching his breath as Arthur attacked the thing first. He could hear the others crashing through the underbrush, alerted by his warning shout and coming to their aid.
He was winded to watch but he saw legs flash by, one, two, three…four pairs as they all went at the beast. Merlin, knowing they were in good hands with the five of them attacking the creature, just sat there, trying to recover.
He only looked up when there was a scream of anguish and whatever it was that had attacked fell to the ground with a thud, twitching in its last moments before death.
For a few moments, they just stood there, catching their breaths, doing a quick survey of each other by eye to see who was hurt. Arthur pushed off of the tree he was leaning against, grinning slightly as he walked over to where Merlin was still sitting on the ground. “It appears I owe you again for saving my life, Merlin.”
Merlin tried to grin, but just couldn’t dredge up the effort to work the muscles in his face. He settled for nodding as the prince offered him a hand up. Concentrating, he reached for it, Arthur’s hand like a vice as it lifted him to his feet.
There was a second, as everything seemed to come into sharp focus-- the sound of the wind through the trees, breath through the knight’s lips and lungs, birds singing again now that the thing was dead, sunlight shining on metal-- and then the world greyed alarmingly, his knees giving out beneath his weight.
He could only let out a pained gasp as Arthur’s chainmail encased arm caught him, holding him up like he weighed nothing. “Merlin!” He blinked, but the world felt far off, grey still taking over his vision.
Someone was tugging at his jacket, insistent fingers worming under the material to get at his side which seemed to be on fire. He gasped again, his vision sparking with colorful spots as the grey started to fade to black, his side flaring agonizingly as whoever’s hand it was under his shirt touched the heat on his side.
Arthur was speaking to him as he was lowered; he could hear his voice, but he couldn’t make out the words, blinking up at the faces swimming over him, worry lining their faces. He watched Arthur’s lips and could see them forming his name, frantic as they said it over and over, unheard as the blood rushed in his ears. The noise was getting louder and he realized with some dark humor that he was about to pass out. He tried to keep himself conscious, but the pull was too much and his vision went totally black, blocking out the world and the knights crowded above him.
~*~
Arthur grunted under Merlin’s dead weight, keeping the limp man up as the knights converged on them, Gwaine frowning worriedly as he lifted Merlin’s jacket, hand touching his side. Arthur’s heart squeezed at the pained gasp he gave and Gwaine pulled his hand back, red coating the tips of his fingers.
“Merlin!” He tried to rouse his manservant, lowering him to the ground gently with the help of the others, turning him over. Merlin couldn’t seem to focus, pupils blown wide with pain as he breathed in short pants, his chest rising shallowly. “Merlin, stay with us. You need to stay awake while we get you to Gaius.” He knew he was babbling, but this wasn’t something that had happened before. Merlin always came out of these things unscratched; grinning fit to split his face in half. To see him on the ground like this, because he was protecting Arthur again was like a knife to the gut.
Arthur’s heart skipped a beat as Merlin’s eyes closed, but he was still breathing which meant he had only passed out. “Sire, we must go. We need to get him to Gaius,” Lancelot said softly, tugging at Arthur’s arm.
“All right, Gwaine, get the horses. Help me get him on my horse and follow with his. Lancelot and Percival, help Elyan break camp. Leon, ride ahead, and make sure Gaius is ready for us when we get there.”
They were running the moment he stopped speaking, rushing back the way they had come to get to the camp. It felt like forever before Gwaine came back with the horses, galloping through the trees in his rush to get back to Merlin. He pulled his horse up, the other two right behind him on leads.
Dismounting quickly, he rushed over to help Arthur pick up the limp man as they carried him over to Herestræl, Cyssan looking as worried as a horse could for her injured rider. The larger gelding, sensing the urgency, held perfectly still as Arthur mounted, Gwaine holding Merlin’s dead weight as he waited. Between the two of them, they got him situated seated in front of Arthur, Gwaine not even questioning whether that was a good idea.
Gwaine quickly mounted behind then and took Cyssan’s lead rein again as they started out at a slow trot, trying not to hurt the unconscious man any more than necessary. They covered ground steadily, but each mile seemed to slide by excruciatingly slowly, the only sign that Merlin still lived the soft brush of breath against the Arthur’s neck where his head lay limp on his shoulder.
The knot in his chest let up some as the turrets of Camelot came into view and he spurred Herestræl into a faster gait, the horse not even complaining about the added weight of two people, as though sensing the tension in his rider by the way he sat on his back.
People flowed out of their way as they galloped down the streets of the city, racing forward to reach the physician. Gaius was already waiting with Leon and some guards as they pulled up before him. The older man seemed to freeze for a moment at the sight of his ward and then he went into motion, ordering the guards to help get Merlin off the horse and to carry him to his rooms.
Arthur followed, Gwaine on his heels, leaving the horses for the stable hands coming their way. They laid him on the table, the guards leaving them as Gaius got to work trying to undress his injured ward. Growling, Arthur stepped forward, drawing his knife and slicing through the material instead of trying to take it off the regular way.
The two lifted him as Gaius worked the cloth off his arms. Two puncture wounds cut into his side, red and inflamed, already spreading out in a web of red veins as the creature’s venom slowly worked through his body.
“What was it?” Gaius asked as he shuffled around the room, pulling vials and jars from his shelves, looking at some and shaking his head, putting them back only to pull down another. Gwaine followed behind, holding the jars Gaius passed him. There was a large pile of them by the time they returned to where Merlin lay.
“I…I’m not sure.” Arthur admitted, hands shaking as he took some of the vials Gwaine held out to him, setting them to one side of the table.
Pausing, Gaius went over to his book shelves, scanning the spins before pulling down one particularly thick volume. “One of you, look through this bestiary, see if you can find it.” Arthur took it, nodding for Gwaine to continue helping the physician. He sat down at a work table and started flipping through the book.
Twenty minutes later, he turned the last page, his heart a cold lump of lead in his chest. “Gaius, it’s not in here,” he said, jumping up and beginning to pace, book clutched tightly in his hand. The two were still beside Merlin, working. Gwaine was holding Merlin’s head up, helping Gaius as he poured some concoction down his throat.
Gaius seemed to age visibly at those words as he sat back, Gwaine laying Merlin back down on the table. A bandage was wrapped around his waist, though blood still seeped out, starting to soak through the bandage. “Then there is nothing we can do.”
“What? There has to be a way for you to help him!” Arthur demanded, turning hard eyes on the physician.
“Until we know what bit him, there is no way for me to know what will save him. For now, all we can do is wait and hope he is strong enough to fight off the beast’s venom.” His voice was barely a whisper, eyes sad and glassy as he watched his ward breathe shallowly.
Arthur growled and started to pace the small room in the available space. “Sire, perhaps you might seek out Geoffrey. If any can figure out what beast this is, it will be him.”
Arthur nodded, turning to the door. “Keep him alive. I don’t care what you do, keep him alive.” He left in haste, not stopping to see if Gaius had anything else to say.
~*~
Gwaine and Gaius stared at the door for a second, unsure how to react to the prince’s behavior. To Gaius, it was normal for the two of them to act this way, desperate to save the other’s life. For Gwaine, it was still new and left him wondering what it was that lay between these two different people.
The moment of silence was shattered as Merlin gasped, his breathing still shallow, though it seemed to have evened out. Gwaine turned to the physician. “Gaius, how long do we have?” He’d always been the practical one, never remembering the past, never looking towards the future, living in the moment and asking what needed to be asked. He hated this part of himself at the moment.
“I won’t be sure until we know what it was that bit him. I give him a week at most,” Gaius admitted guiltily, staring down at his ward. Merlin was pale, skin like snow but for his face, where blood pooled under his skin as the fever that Gaius had hoped to divert started to manifest, heating him from the inside out.
They both jumped as the door burst open, Gwen tumbling in, breathing fast as her wide brown eyes took in the room, Gwaine standing solemnly beside the table where Merlin lay, pale and unconscious. “No!”
The cry seemed to be torn from her throat at the sight of her friend. She didn’t even seem to realize she was moving until she was standing beside the table, looking down at Merlin. “Gaius?” she asked hesitantly. Gaius didn’t reply. Unwilling to say anything further until he was sure and the silence stretches between them.
~*~
“Sire, how can I be of service?” Geoffrey asked rising to his feet as Arthur charged through the double doors of the library, face grim.
“I need your help to find out the name of a beast. Someone’s life depends on it.” It went unsaid that the only person Arthur would be this desperate to save was Merlin.
“Of course. The bestiaries are this way. If you could describe it to me; I will be able to work much faster.” As Arthur began to describe the creature that had attacked them, the old Archivist’s face became increasingly somber. A pile of books was already resting on a nearby table waiting to be skimmed through, taken down as Arthur described the creature.
“It will take me some time, sire. If I might be so bold, perhaps you should report to your esteemed father of this attack. He will want to know, and messengers can be sent out to see if anyone else has been struck down.”
It took Arthur a moment to process what the older man had suggested and he realized that he should have had reported it before coming here. His father had never cared for his…friendship with Merlin, if that was what it was, and the fact that he has put Merlin above his father and the safety of the kingdom would not sit well with Camelot’s king.
“Perhaps you are right.” He nodded in acknowledgement. “Please, the moment you find what it is, go to Gaius.” He flinched away from the pity in the lord’s eyes, feeling vulnerable and exposed that he had let his worry and concern for Merlin take hold of his emotions so. “Geoffrey.”
“Sire.”
Arthur retreated, rising a cold mask of indifference over the emotional quagmire that he had stumbled into. He would need to be able to focus if he was going to face his father. His father might not be the man he used to be after Morgana’s betrayal, but he still had a sharp mind and a sharper tongue, and would use both on his son if need be. Squaring his shoulders, Arthur braced himself for the argument that was sure to come.
~*~
“Arthur.”
“Father.” He gave a mental flinch at the cold steel that rang in Uther’s voice. His father was angry. Not the fiery anger that led to shouting, things thrown, but quickly quenched once what needed to be said was said. No, this was a cold, simmering anger that bled into everything he said and did. When his father was like this, he was at his most dangerous, most calculating when it came to seeing weaknesses.
“Tell me, why is it I learned of the attack on you not from your own mouth, but from one of your knights?” Uther’s eyes were cold and indifferent, his posture relaxed, as though he was commenting on the weather to someone he cared little for.
“I’m sorry, Father. I should have reported to you first,” Arthur replied reflexively, hoping that his taking on all responsibility and baring his throat to his father would keep the anger boiling under his skin from erupting.
Uther gave a little sigh. “You still do not seem to understand what it means to be a ruler. I’ve tried to warn you, subtly and bluntly, yet you still do not heed my word and continue to put that peasant above his station and worth. When will you learn that sometimes, there must be sacrifices in order for the kingdom to remain whole?” With each word, Arthur felt more ice enter his veins; leaching any warmth from inside and making him feel sick.
“You also taught me to reward those who do service to the crown. You taught me that this is a harsh world and to hold those who are loyal close,” he replied, anger rising as dread sunk his stomach further. He had to placate his father soon before the older man made a rash decision.
“I did indeed teach you that, but not to raise them above their station in life.”
“Father, he saved my life. If it were not for him, it would be me in Gaius’s rooms right now, not him. How is trying to save his life in return putting him above his station?” he demanded, letting his anger give him the courage to question his king. His father was not a rational man anymore, though how rational he had been before Morgana’s betrayal he didn’t know.
He could see it now though, the thin hold his father was keeping on his sanity. His father was a broken man, and broken men were never rational. How he had not realized this was a mystery. He had seen it, after the fighting had ended, the lost look on Uther’s face. He wasn’t even surprised that Uther had withdrawn from court for a few weeks as he recovered from his ordeal, and when he had come back looking whole and healthy, Arthur had taken it at face value.
Before Uther could speak, he cut in, trying to sooth his father’s ruffled feathers. “I understand why you say this to me. Merlin is a peasant,” didn’t that taste sour as he spoke those words, “he knows nothing of what it means to rule. But he still saved my life, has saved it many times, and the least I can do is repay him by trying to save him. He would do the same for me, father.”
Uther gave a huff, but seemed to relax into a more casual posture, eyes no longer lifeless. “I do not question his loyalty, I question his motives. No man would do this much unless he was after something.”
Arthur couldn’t help but laugh, giving a sigh of relief at the crises that was diverted. “Merlin is too much of an idiot to try for anything more. At most, he would probably just ask for a day off.” He shared an arrogant smirk with Uther at the joke while something twisted in his chest. Merlin was dying right now and he was forced to belittle him just to keep his father from trying to kill him.
“I am sorry for not coming here first, father. I let sentimental emotions cloud my judgment for a moment. I won’t let it happen again.” He let steel ring in his voice, and his father took it at face value. He didn’t realize what emotions Arthur spoke of. He had let them cloud his judgment, let panic grip him, worry guide him, and his friendship blind him from the rest of the world. From now on, he would have to tread a very thin line, if he was to keep from rousing his father’s suspicions.
~*~
The two of them jumped as someone knocked at the door. Gwen had left some time before at their suggestion when she started to fall asleep on the stool she had commandeered. Arthur had yet to return from his meeting with his father and Gwaine wondered what that could mean.
“Geoffrey, come in, come in.” Gaius said as the door opened to show the Archivist, book in hand. “Any news?” he asked as the door shut with a soft thump. Gwaine remained seated on his own stool next to Merlin, who had been moved to Gaius’s cot so that Gaius could use his table to work.
He had a perfect view of the look of pity that crossed Geoffrey’s face and felt his heart skip a beat at what it could mean, scenarios going through his mind.
“I’m sorry, Gaius.” Gaius walked over to him, taking the book to look at the page Geoffrey showed him.
“What? What is it?” He raised his voice, forcing them to notice him sitting there.
Gaius walked over with the book, lowering it so he could see what they had been studying. Although it wasn’t detailed, the image was enough. The creature’s long sinuous neck that tapered to a delicate skull and small ears, muscled flanks, limbs just as muscled but short, with webbed feet. Its tail was whip cord thin. The image showed scales covering its body, dappled in brown and black. “That…that is it,” he replied gruffly, looking down at Merlin’s prone form. They had already had to change his bandages twice, and he was starting to sweat as the venom wormed through his veins. It was working slowly, the webbing of red from the bite mark having only gained a few more inches.
Gaius handed the book back to Geoffrey, hands visibly shaking. The older man cleared his throat and started to speak. “The Attor is a creature of magic and the old religion. It is akin to the Questing Beast in that its bite kills just as easily. Its name is derived from the word poison, and it venom has no antidote.” The room was silent as he stopped to catch his breath before continuing. “However, unlike the Questing Beast, its bite does not always mean death. If the one who is bitten by it has a strong enough will to live, they may fight off the venom.”
The room fell silent again. “Has anyone ever survived its bite?” Gwaine asked.
“There are records of warriors of old who have been bitten as they fought it and survived. Another is of a powerful sorcerer who was able to use his magic to drive the venom from his body. Yet another tells of a woman, who pushed her lover aside and was bitten instead and survived.”
“He pushed Arthur out of the way. Perhaps…”
“I don’t think friendship and loyalty applies to this, Gwaine and the fact that Merlin and I are not lovers makes it a moot point.” They all turned to see Arthur standing in the open door. “And unless he is really some great sorcerer or mighty warrior of old, then all we can hope for is that his will to live is strong enough to survive the venom.”
“Sire.” Geoffrey bowed to the prince. Setting the book down for Gaius to look through later, he left the three men to talk.
As the door was shut again, Arthur seemed to relax some, though the tension in his shoulders did not dissipate. “My father has been…informed of today’s events.” No one spoke as he walked over to where Merlin lay and Gwaine sat, staring down at the dying man. “It took all I had to keep my father from executing him on the spot to prove his point.”
“And what point is that?” Gwaine asked, defensive of his friend.
“That I care too much for him.”
Part 2