Fanfic - This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be (4/11)
Title: This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author's Note: See part one.
Part Three
He knew it was risky, but all the same, Arthur couldn't help but make a quick stop at the dungeons before he headed to the stables the next morning. He was reluctant to admit that there was anything more to the gesture than simply informing Merlin of his impending journey, but nerves twisting in his gut at the thought of being away from the castle -- from where he could keep a steady eye on his father, and more importantly, from being unable to protect Merlin should something happen -- told an entirely different story.
Something in the air shifted as Arthur rounded the last corner, an element of dampness combined with a musty -- though not entirely unpleasant -- smell, temperature falling at least a couple of degrees. It was remarkable how obvious the change was, to the point where Arthur felt quite confident he would be able to tell the instant he was led into the dungeons, even if blindfolded. A wave of unexpected relief washed over him upon discovering that Leon was the sole guard posted outside Merlin's cell this morning. Of all the knights that'd been involved in some capacity in the events of the past couple of days, Leon consistently demonstrated the most sympathy for Arthur's plight. The gods, for once, seemed to be smiling down on him this morning.
He sat on a stool a few feet from the main entrance, head resting against the wall, eyes closed, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. For a moment, it looked as if he'd been sleeping on the job, but the moment Arthur came trudging in, his eyes immediately popped open and fell on the prince's face. He hadn't been sleeping, that much was now obvious, but there was no doubt that the man was surprised by the sudden intrusion on his shift.
"Sire." Leon stumbled to his feet awkwardly, looking slightly sheepish before the expression gave way to one of curiosity. He leaned back on his haunches, arms dangling at his side, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. "I, um, assume you're here to..." he trailed off, hiking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Merlin's cell, "...see him? Merlin, I mean."
Arthur nodded, choosing not to say anything as his mere presence alone answered the question.
"All right, well come along then," Leon said, pulling out his ring of keys and sifting through them noisily.
Arthur cocked a brow, not quite expecting it to be this effortless to get to Merlin. "That's it? My father didn't ban me from coming within five hundred feet of Merlin?" He couldn't quite prevent the words as they tumbled from his mouth.
The easy shrug that rolled off the older man's shoulders was telling, and he stopped to toss a glance back at the prince. "We received orders to keep a close eye on his cell at all points in time, but nothing specific about keeping you away. At least not since yesterday morning. And since it's a new day there needs to be new orders to reflect that, right?" Leon winked then, and Arthur blinked several times in succession, not quite believing that one of his knights had just winked at him.
Arthur stifled a laugh, settling for a soft, thankful smile instead. "You're a good man, Leon," he told his comrade as they continued their short trek to Merlin's secluded cell, clapping him lightly on the shoulder as they went.
Leon finally settled on what was presumably the correct key, slotting it into the hole and unlocking the cell door. "Just try to be quick about it, if you could, sire," he added, almost as an afterthought, pulling the door open with slightly more vigour than was strictly called for.
The sun had yet to rise that morning; at best the soft glow of daylight loomed just below the horizon, the moon already retired for the day. Which left little more than the meagre glimmer of the sole candle in the room, ensconced on the wall by the entrance, to provide light for the entire room. Arthur stepped into the cell, not unlike he'd done a day and a half ago, eyes straining to adjust to the dimness of the room, but this time things were different. Arthur scanned the room hurriedly, hoping to locate his manservant as quickly as possible, even though time wasn't quite as critical as it'd been the first time. It only took a moment for the differences to sink in. This time Merlin was not hunched in the corner of the cell, folded in on himself like a terrified, wounded animal. Instead, he lay curled on his side on one of those impossibly hard and frightfully disgusting dungeon beds, facing the front entrance, chains hanging off the end of the bed and trailing off into some dark recesses that Arthur couldn't locate. Shadows enveloped his angular face, somehow causing his cheekbones to stand out glaringly, in spite of the absence of light and the distance from which Arthur was standing.
In a few long strides, Arthur found himself standing in front of Merlin, looming over his sleeping figure. He was struck by the fact that in spite of the various chains and shackles Merlin had somehow managed to find a couple moments of rest. There was no way of knowing what kind of fears and anxieties plagued his mind normally -- and what relief a few minutes of rest could provide him -- but it was with a sense of mild guilt that Arthur knelt down with the express intent of pulling Merlin from his sound slumber.
"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently. He gave Merlin one light shake, hoping it would be enough to wake him.
Instead of the grumbling he was somehow expecting, Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin, blue eyes becoming as round as saucers, voice squeaking in fright.
"Relax, it's me, Merlin," Arthur told him firmly as he vaulted into a seated position, legs still stretched out on the bed, nearly knocking Arthur over in the process. The chains rattled as he moved, the sound resembling the piercing screech of a raven; it grated on Arthur's nerves.
Merlin squinted at him. "Arthur?" he asked, timid.
"Yes, it's me. Didn't you hear what I just said?" he chided, though not unkindly. He noted idly then that he was rubbing small, soothing circles on Merlin's shoulder with his thumb. He made himself stop, though didn't immediately break the physical contact between them.
"Why are you here?" Merlin blinked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. He shifted on the bed, swinging his feet around so that there was room beside him. Arthur took the cue, moving to gingerly plant himself next to Merlin, momentarily ignoring the less than hygienic state the bed was in.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving."
"What?" Merlin was awake now, wide eyes peering back at him, brows furrowed.
A smile touched the corners of Arthur's lips. "Just for a few days. I have to take care of a group of bandits to the south. I just thought that you should know."
And really, it was the truth, at least in part. It'd only been just over a day that he'd been bonded to Merlin, and while Arthur had no idea what impact it was having on Merlin, he was beginning to wonder if he was feeling what might theoretically be referred to as the magical bond's 'side effects'. There was no other way to explain the sudden flood of thoughts and feelings, concentrated almost entirely on Merlin, plaguing him both day and night. Under normal circumstances, it was possible that Arthur's mind drifted to Merlin several times a day, though mostly because Merlin wasn't attending to his duties properly (as usual) and required a lecture on the dangers of leaving armour lying around or the hazards of living in unclean chambers. There were times, though, when Merlin wasn't around and Arthur thought of him anyway. Like when he was bored in a meeting, or while training his knights, and even sometimes when he was out with some of his men. Sometimes when Arthur was off hunting, having shown mercy to Merlin by allowing him to stay back in Camelot instead of submitting both of them to a miserable trip, he thought of Merlin, wondering what he was doing and occasionally wishing he had forced him to come along anyway. But no matter how many times in the past he'd been guilty of permitting his mind to drift to thoughts of Merlin, Arthur had never felt so utterly enthralled with him as he had in the past day. There was of course the obvious explanation that in light of recent circumstances, anyone would react in a similar fashion. But something about the strength and intensity of the thoughts struck Arthur as being distinctly unique, not the same old situation he was accustomed to. The fact that he hadn't been able to leave this morning without seeing Merlin first spoke volumes about where his mind was currently at, and it was more than a little off-putting. So while the truth was that Arthur did want Merlin to be aware of where he was going, the bigger reason for his early morning visit had been simply that he needed to see Merlin, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge.
"Oh." A beat passed, then, "Be careful, all right?"
He spoke with such genuine concern, voice low with the barest hint of worry (and maybe even a touch of disappointment, though perhaps that was merely wishful thinking on Arthur's part), expression trained so steadily on his face that Arthur suddenly wished that he didn't have to leave at all. Arthur swallowed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. "I will," he breathed once he found his voice again, dropping his gaze to Merlin's hands fiddling on his lap.
"Good," Merlin whispered, nodding quickly, hands stilling.
The air in the room felt heavy then, as though it were shifting in response to the slightly charged energy of the space suddenly existing between them, and Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of the change, how to interpret it. They sat for several moments in silence, staring at nothing in particular until the sound of shuffling boots at the doorway drew their attention. Two pairs of eyes snapped up at the intrusion of Leon into the cell.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, sire," Leon said, the flicker from the flames of the torch he held in his hand momentarily lighting up the darkness, and his gaze darted back and forth between the two as if he suspected he might actually be interrupting something. "But I anticipate the return of Gawain and Gareth any moment now..." He trailed off, leaving the implication to hang in the air.
Arthur nodded, knowing that he'd already been granted a small favour by being permitted to see Merlin before he left, and he turned back to Merlin for a moment. "We'll figure out how to get you out of here when I get back. Don't cause any more trouble while I'm gone."
Merlin smiled at him, contained but sincere, as the hint of a laugh fell from his lips. "I'll do my best," he murmured.
Arthur was struck with the odd idea that he should do something completely mad, like hug Merlin before he left, but was eternally grateful for Leon's presence, which prevented him from taking such an action. He settled for clapping a hand to the back of Merlin's neck instead, squeezing affectionately for a moment before breaking the contact with a cough.
"Thank you," he directed towards Leon as he passed, feeling better knowing that Leon would be watching over Merlin in his absence.
The last person Arthur expected to see so early on this particular morning was Gwen. And in fact, he hadn't really been expecting to run into anyone at all on his journey to the stables, which was why he was even more surprised to see her kind face when he practically barrelled right into her, head down and thoughts distant.
"Watch where you're --" he said, but cut himself off as her familiar face swam into his line of sight. "Guinevere?"
"Sire, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she stuttered out, stepping back. Hands flew to the front of her dress as she ran her palms over the still-smooth surface.
Arthur shook his head and reached out to gently touch her shoulder. "No, no, don't apologise. It was my mistake. My mind has been..." he paused for a beat, "elsewhere, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking."
"Yes, I imagine it must be," she said, smiling sadly as her hands fell loosely to her side.
"I take it you've heard, then." It was a statement, not a question.
"I'm afraid so. It's been the talk of the town. Is it true--" Gwen's voice dropped significantly, despite the fact that there was no one else even remotely within earshot of the two of them, "--Is it true that Merlin's really a sorcerer?"
Concern and fear resounded in her voice, as though she were scared to even ask the question of the one person who would most certainly be able to provide her with the genuine facts. "Yes," he said immediately, opting to get straight to the heart of the matter. "He used magic to protect me from an attack by another sorcerer." Arthur still couldn't quite believe that all of this was true. It seemed like the kind of story that was read to small children to help put them to sleep at night, not something happening in the present moment to the Crown Prince of Camelot.
Gwen's face fell as she visibly deflated. "I only heard yesterday morning but I haven't been able to find Gaius or you since then. But if Merlin is a sorcerer, why is he... why is he still...? Unless he's already..." she trailed off, eyes distant, and Arthur could only imagine what horrible thoughts were racing through her head. He'd been experiencing some of those same thoughts himself as of late.
"No, he's still alive, Gwen," Arthur reassured her, not liking the way his heart ached all of a sudden.
Gwen's tear-filled eyes snapped up to meet Arthur's gaze, one brow quirked in confusion. "How is that possible?" she asked, words so soft he had to strain to even hear them.
Arthur hated to disappoint Gwen -- dear, sweet, loving and loyal Guinevere -- but he also knew that he would not be able to lie to her. He had no idea how she would react to the news that Arthur had bonded his soul to Merlin's in order to save his life. It was no secret to anyone that she cared deeply for Merlin; however, this was one of those rare situations that had the potential for long-lasting and potentially detrimental consequences, and he and Gwen were already facing nearly insurmountable odds as it was. But the simple reality was that she would discover the truth of the situation sooner or later anyway, so it was best that it came from the source.
"The reason Merlin is still alive," Arthur took a deep breath and braced himself for impact, "is because I bonded our souls together. If my father kills Merlin, then he will also kill me."
He was unable to meet Gwen's piercing stare, unsure of the reasons but suspecting it had something to do with the fact that she could read him almost as well as Merlin, and he didn't know if he wanted her truthful assessment of the situation. She made a noise, something between a gasp or a groan or possibly even a small cry -- Arthur was never good at deciphering the female response -- but remained quiet.
"That sounds..." she said, hesitant. Gwen was struggling for the right words, he could tell without even looking at her, which meant that what she had to say couldn't be anything good. "...Risky," she finally finished.
Arthur raised his head, eyes seeking hers, worry roiling in his gut. "I know," he admitted sheepishly.
"What if your father didn't believe you and executed Merlin anyway? Then you wouldn't be here either, sire," she chided.
The comment reminded him of days past, as a small child, when he would sneak away from the castle without telling anyone, only to return hours later with a light sunburn and some superficial injury he'd received from fighting away the 'bad guys' with his makeshift sword-stick. His nursemaid would fuss over him as though he'd acquired some sort of life-threatening illness, and tut warnings about how princes were supposed to behave responsibly and not disappear without alerting anybody and how dare you worry me like that; I've been running around the castle looking everywhere for you. It was that same concerned, disapproving but still caring tone of voice which Gwen now possessed, and Arthur supposed if anything was worthy of a scolding, this was it. No matter the good intentions underlying the course of action he'd chosen, it'd been a decision that was nothing short of insanely reckless, and he was only beginning to fully appreciate that reality.
"I know it was. I just couldn't see any other available options at the time." He folded his arms lightly across his chest, though not defensively. Gwen watched him intently. "It was perhaps a careless decision on my part, but I couldn't allow my father to kill Merlin like he was a piece of useless garbage, especially-- " He faltered, unsure of how he intended to finish that thought. Especially after all we've been through; especially since I've just become used to having him around; especially since I can't imagine things going back to how they were before Merlin arrived in Camelot. Every one of those sentiments resonated deeply within him, but it was entirely one thing to have the thought and another to voice it. Arthur opted for the safer answer. " --Especially after he saved my life," he finished, voice falling just short of convincing.
Gwen tilted her head to the side, expression assessing, but otherwise unreadable. "You feel very strongly about this," she observed after a moment, her tone betraying nothing of what she was now thinking.
"Yes," Arthur said, without hesitation. There was no hiding that fact.
Gwen continued to study him for several seconds, eyes so piercing -- and knowing... like she could peer right into his soul and dredge up everything he kept locked away down there -- that he almost had to look away. Finally she nodded, seemingly satisfied, and he couldn't help but feel as though he'd somehow just admitted to something very significant.
"I'm glad," she finally said, and sounded like she meant it. Arthur wasn't sure how to take that, what it meant for them, exactly, so he simply smiled warmly at Gwen, hoping he hadn't buggered everything up permanently with her.
"Look, Guinevere, I know I don't have any right to ask this of you, but I was wondering if you might be able to keep an eye on Gaius -- and Merlin -- while I'm gone. I have to go and take care of a bandit issue to the south." He took a deep breath, quickly assessing her reaction to his sudden request, but Gwen appeared open; she wasn't frowning, and he took that to be as a good sign as any. "Gaius will need some extra help with Merlin currently incapacitated. And Merlin... could probably use some support right now."
Gwen reached up, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, soft brown eyes never leaving his. "I'll do whatever I can," she promised.
In that moment, everything Arthur adored about Gwen came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Arthur smiled, more appreciative of her understanding and caring nature than he could express. "Thank you," he told her, tone bordering on husky as he fought down the swell of emotions that'd unexpectedly risen in his chest unbidden.
Gwen ducked her head, dropping into a brief deferential curtsey before she chanced a final glance in his direction. "Be safe, sire," she told him prior to slipping away, back towards her original destination.
Arthur watched her walk away, mind buried deep in thought, staring after her long after she’d disappeared from sight.
The forest was quiet, virtually free of the hum of insects and chirping of birds, the still, calm feeling out of place in an area that usually teemed with life and activity. Thick, dark clouds blocked the sun's rays from warming their faces, leaving the small slew of knights feeling a distinct chill in the air, despite the time of year. Rain loomed on the horizon, but thus far they'd been spared from the downpour that would eventually assault them. The mood of the group reflected that of the weather -- solemn and withdrawn, with only minimal conversation.
Arthur pushed everyone along at a quickened pace, which also contributed to the general air of silence hanging amongst his men. In part the decision was made in order to cover as much ground as they were able before the rain prevented further travel for the day. The second driving force behind Arthur's hurry to reach their destination was his desire to get the job over and done with as quickly as possible so they could return to Camelot. He did not like the idea of Merlin being left alone in the hands of his father, even though the bond prevented Uther from taking any sort of action at the moment.
"Sire?" Kay called, trotting up to the prince, matching Arthur's pace as they continued to ride.
Arthur reined his steed in, slowing, and turned his head to acknowledge the knight. "What is it?"
"It looks as though a storm is brewing, and some of the horses are having a hard time keeping up," Kay said, dark fringe flying around wildly as the wind whipped past them. "I'm just wondering if it wouldn't be beneficial to find a place to stop now, before the rain arrives, sire."
Arthur peered up towards the sky, clouds blacker than they'd been even a few minutes before, feeling the damp humidity surrounding them until it was nearly suffocating. It was a reasonable request; the trail was thinning, the horses already struggling to find their footing on the rocky crags, and the speed with which they currently travelled was bordering on being close enough to cause concern under good weather conditions, never mind with an impending storm. At the same time, it was equally possible that they could get another good hour in before setting up camp for the night, and the idea was beyond tempting.
"Let's keep riding for a while longer, and if the clouds don't appear to thin or lighten, we'll stop then," Arthur said finally, glancing at each of his men confidently. They nodded in assent and followed as Arthur began riding once more.
*****
As it turned out, the rain ended up holding out for far longer than Arthur had anticipated, and the first drop fell just as they finished setting up camp for the evening in a cave they'd stumbled upon purely by luck. Arthur helped prepare the meat they'd brought along for dinner, feeling the need to busy himself with tasks that he normally would leave up to Merlin, simply for the distraction.
Somewhere along the line, the general mood of the group had improved considerably, jovial conversation abounding as the men ate their dinner. Arthur attempted to join them in their chatter, for what it was worth, but he found that his mind was plagued with distraction. On this day alone, four times Arthur thought he'd heard Merlin's voice, and there'd been the time when he glanced back and could have sworn he'd seen Merlin following them on horseback, but when he'd taken a second look, the image was gone. At first Arthur ignored all of these things, choosing to focus on the goal ahead, but by mid-afternoon he abandoned all notions that his mind was anything but stuck on thoughts of Merlin locked in his father's dungeon at home.
So he purposely distanced himself now, sitting just back from the fire, feeling sulky and lonely even while he chided himself for the childish behaviour. Arthur, all of his life, had been raised to be strong, courageous, victorious, to persevere. His current behaviour was rather unbecoming, and he felt a little ashamed at his own mental state. Yet, no matter what tactics he employed in attempt to distract his mind from thinking and worrying about Merlin, nothing seemed to work; even images of Gwen's sweet, kind face -- which usually brought a smile to Arthur's face and a little skip to his heart -- did little to divert his attention. All in all, he was quite frustrated with the current predicament, and made a mental note to leave as early as possible tomorrow morning.
A flash of blue and red at the mouth of the cave caught his eye just then, and before he was even aware of what he was doing, Arthur found his legs taking him towards the storm, peering out at the rain that pelted steadily down just a couple of feet away. His eyes scanned the forest, searching for the figure he could have sworn he'd just seen. It was completely illogical -- utterly impossible, in fact -- but Arthur couldn’t deny what he’d just seen (or thought he’d seen), and he was not about to leave Merlin to freeze, or, knowing him, to get struck by lightning. Arthur squinted, trying to focus his attention as mist from the pouring rain sprinkled across his face, matting his hair to his forehead.
"Sire, what are you doing?" The sound pulled Arthur temporarily from his mission, and he turned to stare at Gawain. He shot the prince a curious look, both brows furrowing in confusion. "You're not going out there, are you?"
Arthur opened his mouth to declare that yes, he sure as hell was going out there, but something stopped him. There was absolutely no way Merlin could be out there following him, he knew. It was merely another illusion, as he'd experienced several times earlier on in the day. Arthur shook his head, hoping to clear it of the muddled fantasies it seemed to want to create.
He heaved a sigh, then answered, "No."
Gawain's eyebrows crinkled slightly, eyes still assessing. "Are you all right, my lord?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Arthur lied, and turned to stare out into the downpour once more.
*****
Travel the next day, in spite of all the rain from the previous night, wasn't nearly as treacherous as anticipated. The trails were soppy with mud for the first half mile or so, forcing the group to travel single file as their horses slopped through the mess, but when the trees grew and expanded again, they found it was much smoother sailing from that point on. The sun still refused to shine down on them, obstinately hiding behind the protective cover of the now mostly-rain-free clouds, but they'd been fortunate enough to bear witness to a stunning, albeit brief, rainbow before the clouds had re-emerged. Arthur couldn't help but think that Merlin would have enjoyed it, then felt stupid for even having the thought at all.
Once the path cleared and they were able to pick up the pace once more, the optimistic mood that'd come out the previous evening returned in full force amongst the men; a feeling of confidence in their mission had returned. For all the good cheer Arthur felt, there was a tension coiling in his shoulders throughout the day, eventually working its way down to his chest, making his muscles hurt and his head feel light. He wondered if it had to do with the weather, the fact that they were riding towards a camp of bandits who'd employed a sorcerer that very well may have left magic pockets in his wake, or if there was an entirely different explanation all together. No matter the reason, Arthur felt quite certain that after a good night's rest, he would feel much better.
*****
It was on the third day of riding, when they were approximately half a day away from their destination, that Arthur was beginning to think something was really wrong with him. He'd been on the verge of either screaming or, embarrassingly enough, crying, most of the morning, and for the most outlandishly ridiculous reasons. First it was because Gawain asked him if he'd double checked the map that morning, and Arthur hadn't appreciated his judgemental tone of voice. Next, his steed refused to take an offered carrot from his hand when they'd stopped to rest, even though he'd eaten one of Kay's earlier that morning. He’d been tempted to bash his head against a tree in order to put a halt to the madness at that point. The third time it happened, Arthur had just found one of Merlin's neckerchiefs stuffed in his horse's saddle, having not noticed it previously and not having the faintest idea of where it came from. It was enough to make him miss the man all over again, and had Gerraint not been eyeing him curiously, he might've lost it right then and there.
Then there was the fact that the muscle tension he'd been experiencing during the day prior hadn't worn off, and in fact had become worse, extending even to his hands and feet. It wasn't a physical pain, per se, but it was more as though every part of his body was in a state of extremely high stress -- his muscles were on edge, his head throbbed with a dull pain, his heart rate was quick and laboured in spite of no excess physical exertion, and he felt like his head was stuck in some sort of fog, feeling light-headed and disconnected from the world around him. Additionally, Arthur was sweating beyond what the temperature and their pace deemed logical. So the physical, coupled with the emotional, symptoms he'd been experiencing the last couple of days led Arthur to conclude that something was very wrong with him, and he desired nothing more than finding this group of insurgents and eliminating their threat, so he could finally get home.
The gang of bandits they’d been seeking gained the upper hand and ambushed their party unexpectedly about an hour later. It was with those racing thoughts, and the general physical malady he felt, that Arthur concluded was a major contributing factor. Arthur hadn't heard anything to signify that anyone was approaching -- which would have been more than disconcerting, if he'd had time to think on it for a moment -- but then there was a rather large group of surly men with swords and clubs surrounding them, and the fight was happening before anyone even had time to process what was going on.
Arthur's eyes scanned his surroundings as he unsheathed his sword, vaulting off his horse and putting them on more equal ground. Within a few seconds, he'd determined that there were six of them in total, and that even for bandits, their skills were fairly advanced. But in spite of this fact, they were no match for his knights. One of the larger men went after Arthur, wielding a club, but Arthur was easily able to dance out of his reach. The man towered over Arthur -- a veritable giant in their midst -- and his muscles literally bulged out from under his tight tunic. But his height and large build made his movements slow, and in the end, Arthur knew it would be his downfall.
The man wheeled around, furious, swinging his club at Arthur as if he meant business this time. Arthur jumped back, the club missing him by a long shot, and the giant growled in frustration. Arthur glanced behind him to briefly assess the situation before returning his attention to his attacker. This time, instead of swinging his club, he lunged directly for Arthur, and Arthur ducked and rolled out of the way in response. By the time the man processed what was happening, he was unable to stop the forward momentum, and ended up diving through the air when he tripped over an exposed tree root on the ground. Arthur wasted no time in using the situation to his advantage, impaling him as he fought to get up.
Wiping a hand across his incredibly sweaty brow, Arthur glanced up to see how the rest of his men were faring against the other bandits. It appeared that they had the situation under control, and Arthur felt a swell of pride rise up in him at another job well done. Then, unexpectedly, Arthur's world began to swim in front of his very eyes, and for a few moments he felt dizzy and light-headed, like he might pass out. Bending forward, Arthur rested hands on his knees and fought against a wave of nausea, once again wondering what the hell was going on.
It was in this state that he heard the warning cry, "Sire, watch out!" But by that point it was already too late.
Before Arthur even had a chance to right himself, someone had jumped him from behind, sending him crashing to the ground, sword flying out of his hand and out of reach. Instinctively, Arthur rolled with the momentum, managing to throw his opponent off of his back in the process. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for his fallen sword while simultaneously struggling to keep his head upright as his world continued to spin out of control.
A second later, Arthur noticed the gleam from his sword several feet away, hilt pointed in his direction. He scrambled to his feet, feeling clumsy and uncoordinated, making a dive for the weapon in the most graceless movement of his life. Arthur landed just short of the sword, fingers stretching to grab hold of it, but his attacker reached him first, swinging his own sword down towards Arthur in an arc. Arthur managed to roll out of the way, just in time, and as the man fumbled to recover from smashing his sword against the hard ground, Arthur was able to scramble over to grab hold of his weapon.
This time the attack was entirely anticipated, and Arthur easily parried the blow. They fought for several minutes -- Arthur could feel his knights surrounding them protectively, but at his signal, they held off on any action -- Arthur finding he was having more difficulties shaking the man than normal as his vision continued to remain unfocussed. But then the bandit stumbled just slightly, and it was enough to give Arthur room for an attack, clipping his now defenceless left side. The man cried out, dropping to one knee, and Arthur was ready to use the opportunity to finish the fight.
This was it. Arthur's grip tightened on his sword, but just as he was about to strike his enemy down, the sight that met him nearly stopped his heart in his chest. Arthur was no longer aiming his sword at his attacker, but at Merlin instead. Merlin with his scruffy dark hair, silly ears, and angular face, and stark red neckerchief. He frowned at Arthur, simultaneously fearful and disapproving, hands held up in surrender as his eyes swam with tears, and Arthur couldn’t believe he thought he ever had anything to fear from the prince.
"Sire? Sire!"
Arthur blinked, and suddenly his attacker’s face returned. The bandit took advantage of Arthur’s temporary confusion and shoved him back. He tumbled backwards in shock, collapsing to the ground with a laboured groan, sword slipping from his grasp, and he was completely open to attack once more.
Fingers clawed at the ground in a futile attempt to find his dropped weapon, but before Arthur could even react beyond acknowledging that he was possibly about to die, again, another sword whipped through the air, embedding itself directly in the bandit's chest, and he toppled over, dead on impact.
Two pairs of hands were immediately at his side, helping Arthur to stand, and he was vaguely aware of voices speaking around him, but couldn't quite make out the words. He thought it sounded something like, "Are you all right?" but didn't have time to figure it out, as he crumpled to the ground, world fading to black.
The first time Arthur awoke, it was to the bounce of a galloping horse, head bobbing side to side, the pounding in his skull bordering on excruciating. A strong arm was wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly in the saddle, but Arthur hadn't the foggiest clue who was riding with him or what'd happened in the first place.
"I think he's waking up! Stop riding," a voice called from some place nearby. The sound was disarmingly distant and close at the same time.
Arthur tried to ask about Merlin as they slowed to a halt, but the words refused to form in his throat, coming out as stunted groan instead.
Arthur craned his neck as he was hefted down from his horse, looking around frantically for any sign of Merlin, but he couldn't see him. Multiple arms held his listless limbs, voices mingling together in a cacophony of discordant noises, but Arthur could decipher none of it. Tired eyes drooped heavily, and before he was even on the ground, he saw black once more.
*****
The second time Arthur awoke it was to the sound of hushed arguing. Warmth washed over him, and if the plush mattress beneath his back and heavy blanket covering his chest was any indication, he was no longer riding on a horse through the forest. Every muscle in his body ached, as if he'd been beaten to within an inch of his life, and the exhaustion he felt at merely expending energy to remain conscious was practically overwhelming.
Still, he eventually forced open his eyes, searching for the source of the sounds. Two greyish brown blobs at the foot of his bed gradually cleared in his hazy vision and he recognised the voices before he could physically make out who each person was.
"Gaius, you can't be serious," Uther grumbled, clearly unimpressed.
"I'm afraid that I'm deathly serious, my lord."
"You mean to tell me that my son is suffering as a result of this bond? Whatever it is."
There was a long pause. "It would appear so. From the sounds of it, Merlin collapsed around the same time as Arthur did, sire."
"And you're telling me that putting them in the same room together is the only cure?"
Arthur's head began to pound then, like a battering ram suddenly decided to break through from the inside of his skull, just above his eye sockets, and he was compelled to close his eyes once more, willing the pain away.
"No, not exactly. I'm sure both will recover regardless, but I've been doing some reading into soul bonding, and it would appear that the closer they are to one another, the hastier the recovery."
Uther snorted like it was the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard, that surely something this absurd could not be happening in his court, to his son, of all people. "This is utter madness, Gaius. Under any other circumstances, that sorcerer would be dead already, and now you want me to put him in the same room as my son?"
"I'm not telling you to do anything, sire." There was an unequivocally stern tone to the physician's voice then, and when Arthur chanced another peep, he could just barely make out the hands that rested on both hips as Gaius boldly stared down the king of Camelot. He was one of very few people who could get away with such a thing -- probably no more than three or four people in total, for the entire length of his reign -- and in that sense, Gaius very much reminded him of Merlin. "All I'm saying is that it is probably in Arthur's best interest if Merlin was in the room with him."
Arthur's ears perked up slightly at this, and he anxiously awaited his father's response, suddenly filled with the knowledge that he'd been thinking of Merlin before all this happened, and how he desperately wished his manservant were here in the room at this very moment, even if he couldn't quite explain why that was.
Uther grumbled something that Gaius made him repeat, but Arthur was out like a light once more before catching his father's reply.
*****
The third time Arthur awoke, the room was darker than it'd been previously, candlelight casting shadows across the back walls as his eyes struggled to adjust. He was instantly aware of two things. The first being that he felt considerably better, perhaps only like he'd had a particularly intensive training session instead of a near-death beating. The second was that there were several guards standing watch in his room, and that Merlin lay on a bedroll on the floor a few feet from the edge of his bed, curled into a tight ball. It may have been the light, but Merlin's skin appeared even more ashen than usual, dark hair matted to his forehead, cheekbones standing out prominently, dark rings underneath his eyelids, visible even in the darkened room. He looked sick, as though he hadn't slept in days, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and take away his sickness or pain, no matter what it took. It'd been over a week since he'd last seen Merlin, as far as he figured, and a nearly overpowering wave of affection for Merlin washed over Arthur, throwing his system out of sorts as he struggled to comprehend this new development in his still sleep-muddled mind.
It was then that he noticed two round, blue eyes peering up at him inquisitively, and in spite of his current situation, Arthur couldn't quite hold back the smile that touched his lips as he met Merlin's gaze.
"Merlin," he said, the voice warm and soothing as it rolled easily off his tongue.
Merlin squirmed uncomfortably on the mat, wriggling his shoulders and legs about, and shifted so he was lying on his back instead. But his responding grin was enough to send a jolt of heat through Arthur's veins and the affection he felt only intensified.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, taking a moment to close his heavy eyes.
"I don't know." Shoulders quirked lazily. "I was in some special room under Gaius' care after I passed out, and then the next thing I know, I'm here."
Arthur tried to nod, but his head wasn't cooperating with him. For the time being, he found he was only able to process a couple of things; Merlin appearing very uncomfortable lying on the floor happened to be one of them. The other was that he was filled to the brim with the longing to be closer to him somehow, though he couldn't explain why. In spite of his diminished cognitive functioning at the moment, it didn't take Arthur long to figure out how both goals could be reasonably accomplished.
"Come here," Arthur instructed, feebly waving an inviting hand in his general direction.
Merlin squinted at him in question. "What are you talking about?"
"The bed, you idiot," he said, with far less vigour and assertion than he would've liked, though it was understandable, given the circumstances.
"I can't do that!" Merlin gaped at him.
Arthur expelled a longsuffering sigh. "Yes, you can. Just climb up here."
"No," the volume of Merlin's voice dropped significantly, even though the guards posted around the room would still be able to hear him. "I can't. They wouldn't let me," he said, shifting his eyes from Arthur to the guards in a completely obvious attempt at subtlety.
Arthur managed to shake his head, actively forcing his eyes to stay open, much as they fought valiantly against him. "It's fine. They're not going to stop you. Just get over here. Now."
"Mmm," Merlin mumbled, rolling onto his side again so he faced Arthur, muffling a wide yawn in the process. It took him several minutes to get on his hands and knees, shuffling unsteadily towards the bed. Arthur inched forward as well, propping himself up on one arm and freeing the other to drag Merlin into the bed. The resulting struggle to move Merlin from the floor to the bed was nearly comical, both still too weak to accomplish the task on their own, despite their mutual resolve. Eventually, the knights standing guard opted to step in and lift Merlin the rest of the way into the bed, and it was nothing if not slightly awkward, but neither seemed to care all that much.
Arthur managed to slide himself over so that Merlin wasn't hanging off the edge of the bed and they settled down quickly, close enough to feel heat from each other's bodies, but not so close that they were physically touching, much as the desire was welling up inside of him.
It didn’t take long for Arthur to fall asleep, the gentle sounds of Merlin breathing lulling him into a state of contentment, and the last thought he had as he drifted off was that he hadn’t felt this good in a very long time.
*****
The fourth time Arthur awoke, he felt Merlin shift in the bed, and found his arm resting atop Arthur's. Without much thought, Arthur slid his hand down and clasped Merlin’s fingers in his own, entwining their hands beneath the blankets.
Just as Arthur was drifting back to sleep he felt a barely imperceptible squeeze of their joined hands from Merlin. Arthur turned his face into the pillow and fell back asleep with a smile tugging at his lips.
It was a whole twenty-four hours after Merlin and Arthur were reunited before Arthur woke up again, except this time was different. This time he felt alive again, free from soreness and aches and emotional misery. Without actually opening his eyes, Arthur reached an arm out blindly and was surprised when he didn’t find another warm body beside him. Prying his eyes open, Arthur quickly assessed the situation. It only took a moment to discover that the bed was vacant, save for Arthur, and he briefly wondered if he'd simply imagined the whole thing with Merlin. He wouldn't be surprised, given recent events. But sheets were rumpled on the other side of the bed, pillow indented and there was still a slight dip in the mattress. Gaius bustled about in his chambers, but he could not see signs of anyone else's presence.
Arthur felt his disappointment sink in immediately, though he tried valiantly to mask it in front of Gaius.
He scrubbed a hand across his face, and then turned towards Gaius, speaking with as much casual indifference as he could muster. "Where did Merlin go?" Arthur reluctantly pushed himself into a seated position, arms stretched up towards the ceiling and he tossed his head back with a yawn.
"He's been moved back to the dungeons, sire," Gaius responded. He stood over at the table, mixing the contents of two small vials into a larger container.
Arthur frowned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and edged forward until both feet came in contact with the cold stone floor. "Why?" he asked.
Gaius glanced up, both hands holding vials suspended in the air, as his focus temporarily switched to Arthur. "Because you were both on the mend, sire, and your father felt it was no longer necessary to have you remain in the same room," Gaius said, before returning his attention to the concoction he was mixing.
Arthur's frown intensified for a moment. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't seem to fight back the need he felt to be near to Merlin, and he now had no means with which to make that happen. It had been the driving force behind every action he took while on the mission, and it was frustrating to know that it'd all been for naught. Arthur tested one foot, leaning heavily to the side, and when he didn't instantly topple over, decided to give the other foot a go as well. He padded carefully across the room and moved to stand across from Gaius.
“So, what happened to me?” Arthur asked.
“Well, as far as I know, sire, you defeated the bandits you’d been seeking, and then passed out.”
Arthur arched a brow. “Why?”
Gaius glanced up at him. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think it had to do with your bond. You were separated from Merlin by a great distance, and I think that it caused the bond to react. From the information I’ve been able to gather, it would seem that Merlin passed out around the same time as you, sire.”
Arthur nodded thoughtfully, reflecting on how he’d been feeling just prior to passing out. “I felt terrible shortly beforehand. Sweating, tired, dizzy, and my muscles ached. Do you think that was part of it, or something else entirely?”
“I would imagine it was related to the bond, sire. Merlin had been complaining of similar ailments approximately a day or two before he passed out. It seems consistent with the available knowledge about soul bonds, so I think it would be logical to assume so.”
“And why was Merlin brought to my chambers?” Not that he was complaining.
“I was able to do some further research into soul bonds, and it appeared as though the bonded are able to heal faster after a separation by being in close proximity to one another. It seemed to have been successful.” Gaius paused. "Here, drink this," he said, holding out a cup for Arthur to take.
Arthur accepted the cup, sniffing at its contents and decided that he did not like where this was going. If the smell wafting towards him was any indication, Arthur suspected this might be a new method of torture his father was trying out via the court physician.
"What is it?" he asked, holding the container at arm's length and squinting at it, as though that might somehow make it seem less vulgar.
"Something to make you feel better," was his only response.
"I doubt that," Arthur mumbled quietly to himself, then added for good measure, "I feel fine, I don't need anything to drink."
The look Gaius shot him was nothing short of terrifying, raising the question of how an elderly, somewhat frail, and grandfatherly man could be so frightening. But Arthur knew that it'd be a losing battle if he tried to avoid downing the disgustingly pungent liquid. He flopped into the nearest chair in defeat. Gaius pointedly ignored him as he bustled about the table, cleaning up.
"I need to go and let your father know you're awake," Gaius said, rubbing his hands on the front of his tunic. "He wanted to speak with you as soon as you were well. Don't forget to drink up." And without any further fanfare, he toddled out of the room.
Arthur glared at the glass still clutched in his hands, screwed his eyes shut, and drank the entire contents in one go, feeling the burn as the disgusting concoction slithered down his throat.
---------------------------------------
Continue on to part five.
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author's Note: See part one.
Part Three
He knew it was risky, but all the same, Arthur couldn't help but make a quick stop at the dungeons before he headed to the stables the next morning. He was reluctant to admit that there was anything more to the gesture than simply informing Merlin of his impending journey, but nerves twisting in his gut at the thought of being away from the castle -- from where he could keep a steady eye on his father, and more importantly, from being unable to protect Merlin should something happen -- told an entirely different story.
Something in the air shifted as Arthur rounded the last corner, an element of dampness combined with a musty -- though not entirely unpleasant -- smell, temperature falling at least a couple of degrees. It was remarkable how obvious the change was, to the point where Arthur felt quite confident he would be able to tell the instant he was led into the dungeons, even if blindfolded. A wave of unexpected relief washed over him upon discovering that Leon was the sole guard posted outside Merlin's cell this morning. Of all the knights that'd been involved in some capacity in the events of the past couple of days, Leon consistently demonstrated the most sympathy for Arthur's plight. The gods, for once, seemed to be smiling down on him this morning.
He sat on a stool a few feet from the main entrance, head resting against the wall, eyes closed, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. For a moment, it looked as if he'd been sleeping on the job, but the moment Arthur came trudging in, his eyes immediately popped open and fell on the prince's face. He hadn't been sleeping, that much was now obvious, but there was no doubt that the man was surprised by the sudden intrusion on his shift.
"Sire." Leon stumbled to his feet awkwardly, looking slightly sheepish before the expression gave way to one of curiosity. He leaned back on his haunches, arms dangling at his side, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. "I, um, assume you're here to..." he trailed off, hiking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Merlin's cell, "...see him? Merlin, I mean."
Arthur nodded, choosing not to say anything as his mere presence alone answered the question.
"All right, well come along then," Leon said, pulling out his ring of keys and sifting through them noisily.
Arthur cocked a brow, not quite expecting it to be this effortless to get to Merlin. "That's it? My father didn't ban me from coming within five hundred feet of Merlin?" He couldn't quite prevent the words as they tumbled from his mouth.
The easy shrug that rolled off the older man's shoulders was telling, and he stopped to toss a glance back at the prince. "We received orders to keep a close eye on his cell at all points in time, but nothing specific about keeping you away. At least not since yesterday morning. And since it's a new day there needs to be new orders to reflect that, right?" Leon winked then, and Arthur blinked several times in succession, not quite believing that one of his knights had just winked at him.
Arthur stifled a laugh, settling for a soft, thankful smile instead. "You're a good man, Leon," he told his comrade as they continued their short trek to Merlin's secluded cell, clapping him lightly on the shoulder as they went.
Leon finally settled on what was presumably the correct key, slotting it into the hole and unlocking the cell door. "Just try to be quick about it, if you could, sire," he added, almost as an afterthought, pulling the door open with slightly more vigour than was strictly called for.
The sun had yet to rise that morning; at best the soft glow of daylight loomed just below the horizon, the moon already retired for the day. Which left little more than the meagre glimmer of the sole candle in the room, ensconced on the wall by the entrance, to provide light for the entire room. Arthur stepped into the cell, not unlike he'd done a day and a half ago, eyes straining to adjust to the dimness of the room, but this time things were different. Arthur scanned the room hurriedly, hoping to locate his manservant as quickly as possible, even though time wasn't quite as critical as it'd been the first time. It only took a moment for the differences to sink in. This time Merlin was not hunched in the corner of the cell, folded in on himself like a terrified, wounded animal. Instead, he lay curled on his side on one of those impossibly hard and frightfully disgusting dungeon beds, facing the front entrance, chains hanging off the end of the bed and trailing off into some dark recesses that Arthur couldn't locate. Shadows enveloped his angular face, somehow causing his cheekbones to stand out glaringly, in spite of the absence of light and the distance from which Arthur was standing.
In a few long strides, Arthur found himself standing in front of Merlin, looming over his sleeping figure. He was struck by the fact that in spite of the various chains and shackles Merlin had somehow managed to find a couple moments of rest. There was no way of knowing what kind of fears and anxieties plagued his mind normally -- and what relief a few minutes of rest could provide him -- but it was with a sense of mild guilt that Arthur knelt down with the express intent of pulling Merlin from his sound slumber.
"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently. He gave Merlin one light shake, hoping it would be enough to wake him.
Instead of the grumbling he was somehow expecting, Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin, blue eyes becoming as round as saucers, voice squeaking in fright.
"Relax, it's me, Merlin," Arthur told him firmly as he vaulted into a seated position, legs still stretched out on the bed, nearly knocking Arthur over in the process. The chains rattled as he moved, the sound resembling the piercing screech of a raven; it grated on Arthur's nerves.
Merlin squinted at him. "Arthur?" he asked, timid.
"Yes, it's me. Didn't you hear what I just said?" he chided, though not unkindly. He noted idly then that he was rubbing small, soothing circles on Merlin's shoulder with his thumb. He made himself stop, though didn't immediately break the physical contact between them.
"Why are you here?" Merlin blinked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. He shifted on the bed, swinging his feet around so that there was room beside him. Arthur took the cue, moving to gingerly plant himself next to Merlin, momentarily ignoring the less than hygienic state the bed was in.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving."
"What?" Merlin was awake now, wide eyes peering back at him, brows furrowed.
A smile touched the corners of Arthur's lips. "Just for a few days. I have to take care of a group of bandits to the south. I just thought that you should know."
And really, it was the truth, at least in part. It'd only been just over a day that he'd been bonded to Merlin, and while Arthur had no idea what impact it was having on Merlin, he was beginning to wonder if he was feeling what might theoretically be referred to as the magical bond's 'side effects'. There was no other way to explain the sudden flood of thoughts and feelings, concentrated almost entirely on Merlin, plaguing him both day and night. Under normal circumstances, it was possible that Arthur's mind drifted to Merlin several times a day, though mostly because Merlin wasn't attending to his duties properly (as usual) and required a lecture on the dangers of leaving armour lying around or the hazards of living in unclean chambers. There were times, though, when Merlin wasn't around and Arthur thought of him anyway. Like when he was bored in a meeting, or while training his knights, and even sometimes when he was out with some of his men. Sometimes when Arthur was off hunting, having shown mercy to Merlin by allowing him to stay back in Camelot instead of submitting both of them to a miserable trip, he thought of Merlin, wondering what he was doing and occasionally wishing he had forced him to come along anyway. But no matter how many times in the past he'd been guilty of permitting his mind to drift to thoughts of Merlin, Arthur had never felt so utterly enthralled with him as he had in the past day. There was of course the obvious explanation that in light of recent circumstances, anyone would react in a similar fashion. But something about the strength and intensity of the thoughts struck Arthur as being distinctly unique, not the same old situation he was accustomed to. The fact that he hadn't been able to leave this morning without seeing Merlin first spoke volumes about where his mind was currently at, and it was more than a little off-putting. So while the truth was that Arthur did want Merlin to be aware of where he was going, the bigger reason for his early morning visit had been simply that he needed to see Merlin, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge.
"Oh." A beat passed, then, "Be careful, all right?"
He spoke with such genuine concern, voice low with the barest hint of worry (and maybe even a touch of disappointment, though perhaps that was merely wishful thinking on Arthur's part), expression trained so steadily on his face that Arthur suddenly wished that he didn't have to leave at all. Arthur swallowed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. "I will," he breathed once he found his voice again, dropping his gaze to Merlin's hands fiddling on his lap.
"Good," Merlin whispered, nodding quickly, hands stilling.
The air in the room felt heavy then, as though it were shifting in response to the slightly charged energy of the space suddenly existing between them, and Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of the change, how to interpret it. They sat for several moments in silence, staring at nothing in particular until the sound of shuffling boots at the doorway drew their attention. Two pairs of eyes snapped up at the intrusion of Leon into the cell.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, sire," Leon said, the flicker from the flames of the torch he held in his hand momentarily lighting up the darkness, and his gaze darted back and forth between the two as if he suspected he might actually be interrupting something. "But I anticipate the return of Gawain and Gareth any moment now..." He trailed off, leaving the implication to hang in the air.
Arthur nodded, knowing that he'd already been granted a small favour by being permitted to see Merlin before he left, and he turned back to Merlin for a moment. "We'll figure out how to get you out of here when I get back. Don't cause any more trouble while I'm gone."
Merlin smiled at him, contained but sincere, as the hint of a laugh fell from his lips. "I'll do my best," he murmured.
Arthur was struck with the odd idea that he should do something completely mad, like hug Merlin before he left, but was eternally grateful for Leon's presence, which prevented him from taking such an action. He settled for clapping a hand to the back of Merlin's neck instead, squeezing affectionately for a moment before breaking the contact with a cough.
"Thank you," he directed towards Leon as he passed, feeling better knowing that Leon would be watching over Merlin in his absence.
The last person Arthur expected to see so early on this particular morning was Gwen. And in fact, he hadn't really been expecting to run into anyone at all on his journey to the stables, which was why he was even more surprised to see her kind face when he practically barrelled right into her, head down and thoughts distant.
"Watch where you're --" he said, but cut himself off as her familiar face swam into his line of sight. "Guinevere?"
"Sire, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she stuttered out, stepping back. Hands flew to the front of her dress as she ran her palms over the still-smooth surface.
Arthur shook his head and reached out to gently touch her shoulder. "No, no, don't apologise. It was my mistake. My mind has been..." he paused for a beat, "elsewhere, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking."
"Yes, I imagine it must be," she said, smiling sadly as her hands fell loosely to her side.
"I take it you've heard, then." It was a statement, not a question.
"I'm afraid so. It's been the talk of the town. Is it true--" Gwen's voice dropped significantly, despite the fact that there was no one else even remotely within earshot of the two of them, "--Is it true that Merlin's really a sorcerer?"
Concern and fear resounded in her voice, as though she were scared to even ask the question of the one person who would most certainly be able to provide her with the genuine facts. "Yes," he said immediately, opting to get straight to the heart of the matter. "He used magic to protect me from an attack by another sorcerer." Arthur still couldn't quite believe that all of this was true. It seemed like the kind of story that was read to small children to help put them to sleep at night, not something happening in the present moment to the Crown Prince of Camelot.
Gwen's face fell as she visibly deflated. "I only heard yesterday morning but I haven't been able to find Gaius or you since then. But if Merlin is a sorcerer, why is he... why is he still...? Unless he's already..." she trailed off, eyes distant, and Arthur could only imagine what horrible thoughts were racing through her head. He'd been experiencing some of those same thoughts himself as of late.
"No, he's still alive, Gwen," Arthur reassured her, not liking the way his heart ached all of a sudden.
Gwen's tear-filled eyes snapped up to meet Arthur's gaze, one brow quirked in confusion. "How is that possible?" she asked, words so soft he had to strain to even hear them.
Arthur hated to disappoint Gwen -- dear, sweet, loving and loyal Guinevere -- but he also knew that he would not be able to lie to her. He had no idea how she would react to the news that Arthur had bonded his soul to Merlin's in order to save his life. It was no secret to anyone that she cared deeply for Merlin; however, this was one of those rare situations that had the potential for long-lasting and potentially detrimental consequences, and he and Gwen were already facing nearly insurmountable odds as it was. But the simple reality was that she would discover the truth of the situation sooner or later anyway, so it was best that it came from the source.
"The reason Merlin is still alive," Arthur took a deep breath and braced himself for impact, "is because I bonded our souls together. If my father kills Merlin, then he will also kill me."
He was unable to meet Gwen's piercing stare, unsure of the reasons but suspecting it had something to do with the fact that she could read him almost as well as Merlin, and he didn't know if he wanted her truthful assessment of the situation. She made a noise, something between a gasp or a groan or possibly even a small cry -- Arthur was never good at deciphering the female response -- but remained quiet.
"That sounds..." she said, hesitant. Gwen was struggling for the right words, he could tell without even looking at her, which meant that what she had to say couldn't be anything good. "...Risky," she finally finished.
Arthur raised his head, eyes seeking hers, worry roiling in his gut. "I know," he admitted sheepishly.
"What if your father didn't believe you and executed Merlin anyway? Then you wouldn't be here either, sire," she chided.
The comment reminded him of days past, as a small child, when he would sneak away from the castle without telling anyone, only to return hours later with a light sunburn and some superficial injury he'd received from fighting away the 'bad guys' with his makeshift sword-stick. His nursemaid would fuss over him as though he'd acquired some sort of life-threatening illness, and tut warnings about how princes were supposed to behave responsibly and not disappear without alerting anybody and how dare you worry me like that; I've been running around the castle looking everywhere for you. It was that same concerned, disapproving but still caring tone of voice which Gwen now possessed, and Arthur supposed if anything was worthy of a scolding, this was it. No matter the good intentions underlying the course of action he'd chosen, it'd been a decision that was nothing short of insanely reckless, and he was only beginning to fully appreciate that reality.
"I know it was. I just couldn't see any other available options at the time." He folded his arms lightly across his chest, though not defensively. Gwen watched him intently. "It was perhaps a careless decision on my part, but I couldn't allow my father to kill Merlin like he was a piece of useless garbage, especially-- " He faltered, unsure of how he intended to finish that thought. Especially after all we've been through; especially since I've just become used to having him around; especially since I can't imagine things going back to how they were before Merlin arrived in Camelot. Every one of those sentiments resonated deeply within him, but it was entirely one thing to have the thought and another to voice it. Arthur opted for the safer answer. " --Especially after he saved my life," he finished, voice falling just short of convincing.
Gwen tilted her head to the side, expression assessing, but otherwise unreadable. "You feel very strongly about this," she observed after a moment, her tone betraying nothing of what she was now thinking.
"Yes," Arthur said, without hesitation. There was no hiding that fact.
Gwen continued to study him for several seconds, eyes so piercing -- and knowing... like she could peer right into his soul and dredge up everything he kept locked away down there -- that he almost had to look away. Finally she nodded, seemingly satisfied, and he couldn't help but feel as though he'd somehow just admitted to something very significant.
"I'm glad," she finally said, and sounded like she meant it. Arthur wasn't sure how to take that, what it meant for them, exactly, so he simply smiled warmly at Gwen, hoping he hadn't buggered everything up permanently with her.
"Look, Guinevere, I know I don't have any right to ask this of you, but I was wondering if you might be able to keep an eye on Gaius -- and Merlin -- while I'm gone. I have to go and take care of a bandit issue to the south." He took a deep breath, quickly assessing her reaction to his sudden request, but Gwen appeared open; she wasn't frowning, and he took that to be as a good sign as any. "Gaius will need some extra help with Merlin currently incapacitated. And Merlin... could probably use some support right now."
Gwen reached up, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, soft brown eyes never leaving his. "I'll do whatever I can," she promised.
In that moment, everything Arthur adored about Gwen came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Arthur smiled, more appreciative of her understanding and caring nature than he could express. "Thank you," he told her, tone bordering on husky as he fought down the swell of emotions that'd unexpectedly risen in his chest unbidden.
Gwen ducked her head, dropping into a brief deferential curtsey before she chanced a final glance in his direction. "Be safe, sire," she told him prior to slipping away, back towards her original destination.
Arthur watched her walk away, mind buried deep in thought, staring after her long after she’d disappeared from sight.
The forest was quiet, virtually free of the hum of insects and chirping of birds, the still, calm feeling out of place in an area that usually teemed with life and activity. Thick, dark clouds blocked the sun's rays from warming their faces, leaving the small slew of knights feeling a distinct chill in the air, despite the time of year. Rain loomed on the horizon, but thus far they'd been spared from the downpour that would eventually assault them. The mood of the group reflected that of the weather -- solemn and withdrawn, with only minimal conversation.
Arthur pushed everyone along at a quickened pace, which also contributed to the general air of silence hanging amongst his men. In part the decision was made in order to cover as much ground as they were able before the rain prevented further travel for the day. The second driving force behind Arthur's hurry to reach their destination was his desire to get the job over and done with as quickly as possible so they could return to Camelot. He did not like the idea of Merlin being left alone in the hands of his father, even though the bond prevented Uther from taking any sort of action at the moment.
"Sire?" Kay called, trotting up to the prince, matching Arthur's pace as they continued to ride.
Arthur reined his steed in, slowing, and turned his head to acknowledge the knight. "What is it?"
"It looks as though a storm is brewing, and some of the horses are having a hard time keeping up," Kay said, dark fringe flying around wildly as the wind whipped past them. "I'm just wondering if it wouldn't be beneficial to find a place to stop now, before the rain arrives, sire."
Arthur peered up towards the sky, clouds blacker than they'd been even a few minutes before, feeling the damp humidity surrounding them until it was nearly suffocating. It was a reasonable request; the trail was thinning, the horses already struggling to find their footing on the rocky crags, and the speed with which they currently travelled was bordering on being close enough to cause concern under good weather conditions, never mind with an impending storm. At the same time, it was equally possible that they could get another good hour in before setting up camp for the night, and the idea was beyond tempting.
"Let's keep riding for a while longer, and if the clouds don't appear to thin or lighten, we'll stop then," Arthur said finally, glancing at each of his men confidently. They nodded in assent and followed as Arthur began riding once more.
*****
As it turned out, the rain ended up holding out for far longer than Arthur had anticipated, and the first drop fell just as they finished setting up camp for the evening in a cave they'd stumbled upon purely by luck. Arthur helped prepare the meat they'd brought along for dinner, feeling the need to busy himself with tasks that he normally would leave up to Merlin, simply for the distraction.
Somewhere along the line, the general mood of the group had improved considerably, jovial conversation abounding as the men ate their dinner. Arthur attempted to join them in their chatter, for what it was worth, but he found that his mind was plagued with distraction. On this day alone, four times Arthur thought he'd heard Merlin's voice, and there'd been the time when he glanced back and could have sworn he'd seen Merlin following them on horseback, but when he'd taken a second look, the image was gone. At first Arthur ignored all of these things, choosing to focus on the goal ahead, but by mid-afternoon he abandoned all notions that his mind was anything but stuck on thoughts of Merlin locked in his father's dungeon at home.
So he purposely distanced himself now, sitting just back from the fire, feeling sulky and lonely even while he chided himself for the childish behaviour. Arthur, all of his life, had been raised to be strong, courageous, victorious, to persevere. His current behaviour was rather unbecoming, and he felt a little ashamed at his own mental state. Yet, no matter what tactics he employed in attempt to distract his mind from thinking and worrying about Merlin, nothing seemed to work; even images of Gwen's sweet, kind face -- which usually brought a smile to Arthur's face and a little skip to his heart -- did little to divert his attention. All in all, he was quite frustrated with the current predicament, and made a mental note to leave as early as possible tomorrow morning.
A flash of blue and red at the mouth of the cave caught his eye just then, and before he was even aware of what he was doing, Arthur found his legs taking him towards the storm, peering out at the rain that pelted steadily down just a couple of feet away. His eyes scanned the forest, searching for the figure he could have sworn he'd just seen. It was completely illogical -- utterly impossible, in fact -- but Arthur couldn’t deny what he’d just seen (or thought he’d seen), and he was not about to leave Merlin to freeze, or, knowing him, to get struck by lightning. Arthur squinted, trying to focus his attention as mist from the pouring rain sprinkled across his face, matting his hair to his forehead.
"Sire, what are you doing?" The sound pulled Arthur temporarily from his mission, and he turned to stare at Gawain. He shot the prince a curious look, both brows furrowing in confusion. "You're not going out there, are you?"
Arthur opened his mouth to declare that yes, he sure as hell was going out there, but something stopped him. There was absolutely no way Merlin could be out there following him, he knew. It was merely another illusion, as he'd experienced several times earlier on in the day. Arthur shook his head, hoping to clear it of the muddled fantasies it seemed to want to create.
He heaved a sigh, then answered, "No."
Gawain's eyebrows crinkled slightly, eyes still assessing. "Are you all right, my lord?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Arthur lied, and turned to stare out into the downpour once more.
*****
Travel the next day, in spite of all the rain from the previous night, wasn't nearly as treacherous as anticipated. The trails were soppy with mud for the first half mile or so, forcing the group to travel single file as their horses slopped through the mess, but when the trees grew and expanded again, they found it was much smoother sailing from that point on. The sun still refused to shine down on them, obstinately hiding behind the protective cover of the now mostly-rain-free clouds, but they'd been fortunate enough to bear witness to a stunning, albeit brief, rainbow before the clouds had re-emerged. Arthur couldn't help but think that Merlin would have enjoyed it, then felt stupid for even having the thought at all.
Once the path cleared and they were able to pick up the pace once more, the optimistic mood that'd come out the previous evening returned in full force amongst the men; a feeling of confidence in their mission had returned. For all the good cheer Arthur felt, there was a tension coiling in his shoulders throughout the day, eventually working its way down to his chest, making his muscles hurt and his head feel light. He wondered if it had to do with the weather, the fact that they were riding towards a camp of bandits who'd employed a sorcerer that very well may have left magic pockets in his wake, or if there was an entirely different explanation all together. No matter the reason, Arthur felt quite certain that after a good night's rest, he would feel much better.
*****
It was on the third day of riding, when they were approximately half a day away from their destination, that Arthur was beginning to think something was really wrong with him. He'd been on the verge of either screaming or, embarrassingly enough, crying, most of the morning, and for the most outlandishly ridiculous reasons. First it was because Gawain asked him if he'd double checked the map that morning, and Arthur hadn't appreciated his judgemental tone of voice. Next, his steed refused to take an offered carrot from his hand when they'd stopped to rest, even though he'd eaten one of Kay's earlier that morning. He’d been tempted to bash his head against a tree in order to put a halt to the madness at that point. The third time it happened, Arthur had just found one of Merlin's neckerchiefs stuffed in his horse's saddle, having not noticed it previously and not having the faintest idea of where it came from. It was enough to make him miss the man all over again, and had Gerraint not been eyeing him curiously, he might've lost it right then and there.
Then there was the fact that the muscle tension he'd been experiencing during the day prior hadn't worn off, and in fact had become worse, extending even to his hands and feet. It wasn't a physical pain, per se, but it was more as though every part of his body was in a state of extremely high stress -- his muscles were on edge, his head throbbed with a dull pain, his heart rate was quick and laboured in spite of no excess physical exertion, and he felt like his head was stuck in some sort of fog, feeling light-headed and disconnected from the world around him. Additionally, Arthur was sweating beyond what the temperature and their pace deemed logical. So the physical, coupled with the emotional, symptoms he'd been experiencing the last couple of days led Arthur to conclude that something was very wrong with him, and he desired nothing more than finding this group of insurgents and eliminating their threat, so he could finally get home.
The gang of bandits they’d been seeking gained the upper hand and ambushed their party unexpectedly about an hour later. It was with those racing thoughts, and the general physical malady he felt, that Arthur concluded was a major contributing factor. Arthur hadn't heard anything to signify that anyone was approaching -- which would have been more than disconcerting, if he'd had time to think on it for a moment -- but then there was a rather large group of surly men with swords and clubs surrounding them, and the fight was happening before anyone even had time to process what was going on.
Arthur's eyes scanned his surroundings as he unsheathed his sword, vaulting off his horse and putting them on more equal ground. Within a few seconds, he'd determined that there were six of them in total, and that even for bandits, their skills were fairly advanced. But in spite of this fact, they were no match for his knights. One of the larger men went after Arthur, wielding a club, but Arthur was easily able to dance out of his reach. The man towered over Arthur -- a veritable giant in their midst -- and his muscles literally bulged out from under his tight tunic. But his height and large build made his movements slow, and in the end, Arthur knew it would be his downfall.
The man wheeled around, furious, swinging his club at Arthur as if he meant business this time. Arthur jumped back, the club missing him by a long shot, and the giant growled in frustration. Arthur glanced behind him to briefly assess the situation before returning his attention to his attacker. This time, instead of swinging his club, he lunged directly for Arthur, and Arthur ducked and rolled out of the way in response. By the time the man processed what was happening, he was unable to stop the forward momentum, and ended up diving through the air when he tripped over an exposed tree root on the ground. Arthur wasted no time in using the situation to his advantage, impaling him as he fought to get up.
Wiping a hand across his incredibly sweaty brow, Arthur glanced up to see how the rest of his men were faring against the other bandits. It appeared that they had the situation under control, and Arthur felt a swell of pride rise up in him at another job well done. Then, unexpectedly, Arthur's world began to swim in front of his very eyes, and for a few moments he felt dizzy and light-headed, like he might pass out. Bending forward, Arthur rested hands on his knees and fought against a wave of nausea, once again wondering what the hell was going on.
It was in this state that he heard the warning cry, "Sire, watch out!" But by that point it was already too late.
Before Arthur even had a chance to right himself, someone had jumped him from behind, sending him crashing to the ground, sword flying out of his hand and out of reach. Instinctively, Arthur rolled with the momentum, managing to throw his opponent off of his back in the process. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for his fallen sword while simultaneously struggling to keep his head upright as his world continued to spin out of control.
A second later, Arthur noticed the gleam from his sword several feet away, hilt pointed in his direction. He scrambled to his feet, feeling clumsy and uncoordinated, making a dive for the weapon in the most graceless movement of his life. Arthur landed just short of the sword, fingers stretching to grab hold of it, but his attacker reached him first, swinging his own sword down towards Arthur in an arc. Arthur managed to roll out of the way, just in time, and as the man fumbled to recover from smashing his sword against the hard ground, Arthur was able to scramble over to grab hold of his weapon.
This time the attack was entirely anticipated, and Arthur easily parried the blow. They fought for several minutes -- Arthur could feel his knights surrounding them protectively, but at his signal, they held off on any action -- Arthur finding he was having more difficulties shaking the man than normal as his vision continued to remain unfocussed. But then the bandit stumbled just slightly, and it was enough to give Arthur room for an attack, clipping his now defenceless left side. The man cried out, dropping to one knee, and Arthur was ready to use the opportunity to finish the fight.
This was it. Arthur's grip tightened on his sword, but just as he was about to strike his enemy down, the sight that met him nearly stopped his heart in his chest. Arthur was no longer aiming his sword at his attacker, but at Merlin instead. Merlin with his scruffy dark hair, silly ears, and angular face, and stark red neckerchief. He frowned at Arthur, simultaneously fearful and disapproving, hands held up in surrender as his eyes swam with tears, and Arthur couldn’t believe he thought he ever had anything to fear from the prince.
"Sire? Sire!"
Arthur blinked, and suddenly his attacker’s face returned. The bandit took advantage of Arthur’s temporary confusion and shoved him back. He tumbled backwards in shock, collapsing to the ground with a laboured groan, sword slipping from his grasp, and he was completely open to attack once more.
Fingers clawed at the ground in a futile attempt to find his dropped weapon, but before Arthur could even react beyond acknowledging that he was possibly about to die, again, another sword whipped through the air, embedding itself directly in the bandit's chest, and he toppled over, dead on impact.
Two pairs of hands were immediately at his side, helping Arthur to stand, and he was vaguely aware of voices speaking around him, but couldn't quite make out the words. He thought it sounded something like, "Are you all right?" but didn't have time to figure it out, as he crumpled to the ground, world fading to black.
The first time Arthur awoke, it was to the bounce of a galloping horse, head bobbing side to side, the pounding in his skull bordering on excruciating. A strong arm was wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly in the saddle, but Arthur hadn't the foggiest clue who was riding with him or what'd happened in the first place.
"I think he's waking up! Stop riding," a voice called from some place nearby. The sound was disarmingly distant and close at the same time.
Arthur tried to ask about Merlin as they slowed to a halt, but the words refused to form in his throat, coming out as stunted groan instead.
Arthur craned his neck as he was hefted down from his horse, looking around frantically for any sign of Merlin, but he couldn't see him. Multiple arms held his listless limbs, voices mingling together in a cacophony of discordant noises, but Arthur could decipher none of it. Tired eyes drooped heavily, and before he was even on the ground, he saw black once more.
*****
The second time Arthur awoke it was to the sound of hushed arguing. Warmth washed over him, and if the plush mattress beneath his back and heavy blanket covering his chest was any indication, he was no longer riding on a horse through the forest. Every muscle in his body ached, as if he'd been beaten to within an inch of his life, and the exhaustion he felt at merely expending energy to remain conscious was practically overwhelming.
Still, he eventually forced open his eyes, searching for the source of the sounds. Two greyish brown blobs at the foot of his bed gradually cleared in his hazy vision and he recognised the voices before he could physically make out who each person was.
"Gaius, you can't be serious," Uther grumbled, clearly unimpressed.
"I'm afraid that I'm deathly serious, my lord."
"You mean to tell me that my son is suffering as a result of this bond? Whatever it is."
There was a long pause. "It would appear so. From the sounds of it, Merlin collapsed around the same time as Arthur did, sire."
"And you're telling me that putting them in the same room together is the only cure?"
Arthur's head began to pound then, like a battering ram suddenly decided to break through from the inside of his skull, just above his eye sockets, and he was compelled to close his eyes once more, willing the pain away.
"No, not exactly. I'm sure both will recover regardless, but I've been doing some reading into soul bonding, and it would appear that the closer they are to one another, the hastier the recovery."
Uther snorted like it was the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard, that surely something this absurd could not be happening in his court, to his son, of all people. "This is utter madness, Gaius. Under any other circumstances, that sorcerer would be dead already, and now you want me to put him in the same room as my son?"
"I'm not telling you to do anything, sire." There was an unequivocally stern tone to the physician's voice then, and when Arthur chanced another peep, he could just barely make out the hands that rested on both hips as Gaius boldly stared down the king of Camelot. He was one of very few people who could get away with such a thing -- probably no more than three or four people in total, for the entire length of his reign -- and in that sense, Gaius very much reminded him of Merlin. "All I'm saying is that it is probably in Arthur's best interest if Merlin was in the room with him."
Arthur's ears perked up slightly at this, and he anxiously awaited his father's response, suddenly filled with the knowledge that he'd been thinking of Merlin before all this happened, and how he desperately wished his manservant were here in the room at this very moment, even if he couldn't quite explain why that was.
Uther grumbled something that Gaius made him repeat, but Arthur was out like a light once more before catching his father's reply.
*****
The third time Arthur awoke, the room was darker than it'd been previously, candlelight casting shadows across the back walls as his eyes struggled to adjust. He was instantly aware of two things. The first being that he felt considerably better, perhaps only like he'd had a particularly intensive training session instead of a near-death beating. The second was that there were several guards standing watch in his room, and that Merlin lay on a bedroll on the floor a few feet from the edge of his bed, curled into a tight ball. It may have been the light, but Merlin's skin appeared even more ashen than usual, dark hair matted to his forehead, cheekbones standing out prominently, dark rings underneath his eyelids, visible even in the darkened room. He looked sick, as though he hadn't slept in days, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and take away his sickness or pain, no matter what it took. It'd been over a week since he'd last seen Merlin, as far as he figured, and a nearly overpowering wave of affection for Merlin washed over Arthur, throwing his system out of sorts as he struggled to comprehend this new development in his still sleep-muddled mind.
It was then that he noticed two round, blue eyes peering up at him inquisitively, and in spite of his current situation, Arthur couldn't quite hold back the smile that touched his lips as he met Merlin's gaze.
"Merlin," he said, the voice warm and soothing as it rolled easily off his tongue.
Merlin squirmed uncomfortably on the mat, wriggling his shoulders and legs about, and shifted so he was lying on his back instead. But his responding grin was enough to send a jolt of heat through Arthur's veins and the affection he felt only intensified.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, taking a moment to close his heavy eyes.
"I don't know." Shoulders quirked lazily. "I was in some special room under Gaius' care after I passed out, and then the next thing I know, I'm here."
Arthur tried to nod, but his head wasn't cooperating with him. For the time being, he found he was only able to process a couple of things; Merlin appearing very uncomfortable lying on the floor happened to be one of them. The other was that he was filled to the brim with the longing to be closer to him somehow, though he couldn't explain why. In spite of his diminished cognitive functioning at the moment, it didn't take Arthur long to figure out how both goals could be reasonably accomplished.
"Come here," Arthur instructed, feebly waving an inviting hand in his general direction.
Merlin squinted at him in question. "What are you talking about?"
"The bed, you idiot," he said, with far less vigour and assertion than he would've liked, though it was understandable, given the circumstances.
"I can't do that!" Merlin gaped at him.
Arthur expelled a longsuffering sigh. "Yes, you can. Just climb up here."
"No," the volume of Merlin's voice dropped significantly, even though the guards posted around the room would still be able to hear him. "I can't. They wouldn't let me," he said, shifting his eyes from Arthur to the guards in a completely obvious attempt at subtlety.
Arthur managed to shake his head, actively forcing his eyes to stay open, much as they fought valiantly against him. "It's fine. They're not going to stop you. Just get over here. Now."
"Mmm," Merlin mumbled, rolling onto his side again so he faced Arthur, muffling a wide yawn in the process. It took him several minutes to get on his hands and knees, shuffling unsteadily towards the bed. Arthur inched forward as well, propping himself up on one arm and freeing the other to drag Merlin into the bed. The resulting struggle to move Merlin from the floor to the bed was nearly comical, both still too weak to accomplish the task on their own, despite their mutual resolve. Eventually, the knights standing guard opted to step in and lift Merlin the rest of the way into the bed, and it was nothing if not slightly awkward, but neither seemed to care all that much.
Arthur managed to slide himself over so that Merlin wasn't hanging off the edge of the bed and they settled down quickly, close enough to feel heat from each other's bodies, but not so close that they were physically touching, much as the desire was welling up inside of him.
It didn’t take long for Arthur to fall asleep, the gentle sounds of Merlin breathing lulling him into a state of contentment, and the last thought he had as he drifted off was that he hadn’t felt this good in a very long time.
*****
The fourth time Arthur awoke, he felt Merlin shift in the bed, and found his arm resting atop Arthur's. Without much thought, Arthur slid his hand down and clasped Merlin’s fingers in his own, entwining their hands beneath the blankets.
Just as Arthur was drifting back to sleep he felt a barely imperceptible squeeze of their joined hands from Merlin. Arthur turned his face into the pillow and fell back asleep with a smile tugging at his lips.
It was a whole twenty-four hours after Merlin and Arthur were reunited before Arthur woke up again, except this time was different. This time he felt alive again, free from soreness and aches and emotional misery. Without actually opening his eyes, Arthur reached an arm out blindly and was surprised when he didn’t find another warm body beside him. Prying his eyes open, Arthur quickly assessed the situation. It only took a moment to discover that the bed was vacant, save for Arthur, and he briefly wondered if he'd simply imagined the whole thing with Merlin. He wouldn't be surprised, given recent events. But sheets were rumpled on the other side of the bed, pillow indented and there was still a slight dip in the mattress. Gaius bustled about in his chambers, but he could not see signs of anyone else's presence.
Arthur felt his disappointment sink in immediately, though he tried valiantly to mask it in front of Gaius.
He scrubbed a hand across his face, and then turned towards Gaius, speaking with as much casual indifference as he could muster. "Where did Merlin go?" Arthur reluctantly pushed himself into a seated position, arms stretched up towards the ceiling and he tossed his head back with a yawn.
"He's been moved back to the dungeons, sire," Gaius responded. He stood over at the table, mixing the contents of two small vials into a larger container.
Arthur frowned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and edged forward until both feet came in contact with the cold stone floor. "Why?" he asked.
Gaius glanced up, both hands holding vials suspended in the air, as his focus temporarily switched to Arthur. "Because you were both on the mend, sire, and your father felt it was no longer necessary to have you remain in the same room," Gaius said, before returning his attention to the concoction he was mixing.
Arthur's frown intensified for a moment. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't seem to fight back the need he felt to be near to Merlin, and he now had no means with which to make that happen. It had been the driving force behind every action he took while on the mission, and it was frustrating to know that it'd all been for naught. Arthur tested one foot, leaning heavily to the side, and when he didn't instantly topple over, decided to give the other foot a go as well. He padded carefully across the room and moved to stand across from Gaius.
“So, what happened to me?” Arthur asked.
“Well, as far as I know, sire, you defeated the bandits you’d been seeking, and then passed out.”
Arthur arched a brow. “Why?”
Gaius glanced up at him. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think it had to do with your bond. You were separated from Merlin by a great distance, and I think that it caused the bond to react. From the information I’ve been able to gather, it would seem that Merlin passed out around the same time as you, sire.”
Arthur nodded thoughtfully, reflecting on how he’d been feeling just prior to passing out. “I felt terrible shortly beforehand. Sweating, tired, dizzy, and my muscles ached. Do you think that was part of it, or something else entirely?”
“I would imagine it was related to the bond, sire. Merlin had been complaining of similar ailments approximately a day or two before he passed out. It seems consistent with the available knowledge about soul bonds, so I think it would be logical to assume so.”
“And why was Merlin brought to my chambers?” Not that he was complaining.
“I was able to do some further research into soul bonds, and it appeared as though the bonded are able to heal faster after a separation by being in close proximity to one another. It seemed to have been successful.” Gaius paused. "Here, drink this," he said, holding out a cup for Arthur to take.
Arthur accepted the cup, sniffing at its contents and decided that he did not like where this was going. If the smell wafting towards him was any indication, Arthur suspected this might be a new method of torture his father was trying out via the court physician.
"What is it?" he asked, holding the container at arm's length and squinting at it, as though that might somehow make it seem less vulgar.
"Something to make you feel better," was his only response.
"I doubt that," Arthur mumbled quietly to himself, then added for good measure, "I feel fine, I don't need anything to drink."
The look Gaius shot him was nothing short of terrifying, raising the question of how an elderly, somewhat frail, and grandfatherly man could be so frightening. But Arthur knew that it'd be a losing battle if he tried to avoid downing the disgustingly pungent liquid. He flopped into the nearest chair in defeat. Gaius pointedly ignored him as he bustled about the table, cleaning up.
"I need to go and let your father know you're awake," Gaius said, rubbing his hands on the front of his tunic. "He wanted to speak with you as soon as you were well. Don't forget to drink up." And without any further fanfare, he toddled out of the room.
Arthur glared at the glass still clutched in his hands, screwed his eyes shut, and drank the entire contents in one go, feeling the burn as the disgusting concoction slithered down his throat.
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Continue on to part five.