Fragile Peace
~*~
Worry flooding her mind, Morgana wrapped her cloak tightly around and headed out into the snowy mountains.
She needed to find him.
~*~
Because it was a long trek back to the cave, they didn’t reach it until nightfall, Merlin navigating a safe route so that Arthur wouldn’t stumble in the deep snow while holding Gwen. Stepping inside, Arthur lowered his wife carefully to the ground, doing his best to avoid any jagged rock or dry brush. He’d prefer to lay her upon something soft, but there wasn’t a bit of clothing they had that wasn’t soaked through, or at the lesser evil, damp.
As Arthur started pulling off his armor and chainmail, Merlin kneeled down to check Gwen’s pulse. It hadn’t been strong out in the snow. He was hoping it would improve now that they had shelter.
It was assuredly comforting to have something covering their heads and to protect their bodies. The problem was nightfall was commencing, and so with the cave giving adequate light at best during the day, now their environment was darkening steadily. They’d have to start up a fire not only to keep Gwen warm, but for illumination. If they were going to save her, they also needed to take care of themselves. Both were shivering strongly from the exposure to the high wind chill and frosty storms.
“So how is it?” Arthur asked.
Merlin lifted his hand away from Gwen’s wrist. “It’s weaker.”
It wasn’t the best of news, especially when Merlin delivered it with that pessimistic look, but with so many issues at hand, Arthur focused on one crucial thing as he pulled off his wet gloves.
“Okay, she can’t stay in these clothes. They’re too wet and her skin is so…blue. I’m going to remove them. While I do so you can get the fire started again. We’ll dry all our clothes by it, just keeping the essentials on. Alright Merlin? Now anything we have that’s less damp, like my tunic that I wear under the gambeson, we can immediately use to help keep her warm.”
As he was explaining all this, Arthur was already removing Gwen’s attire, having gotten her boots off and cloak. Now as he brought his hands to her dress, Merlin turned away, making his way to where the fire had been burning before, but the darkness had grown too thick within the cave. He stumbled and fell.
“Alright Merlin?” Arthur asked tightly at the jarring sound, getting impatient with the fasteners on his wife’s dress, not able to see them well at all. It took a few precious moments before finally, a bit clumsily, he got the clasps undone.
Alright, Merlin wasn’t, although it would have to take second place to Gwen’s poor condition. He had fallen so hard that he hit his forehead on the cave’s rocky surface. Bringing his fingers to the affected area, and then lifting them away, he grimaced. Then he pulled off his scarf and cleaned his hands, using it also for his forehead, flinching at the bit of pain before he dropped it to the ground. Thrusting away his cloak that he had just tripped upon, and taking off his jacket, Merlin ignored Arthur’s question, making a request instead about Gwen. “Arthur, check her pulse again.”
Having gotten her soaked dress off, leaving some undergarments, most not terribly wet, Arthur pressed his hand against Gwen’s wrist, eyes flashing with alarm. “I don’t feel anything Merlin.”
Not wanting to stand and risk falling again, Merlin crawled over with the cloak Serac let him use. He gave it to Arthur who rapidly used it to wrap around his wife as he rubbed at her bluish skin to bring back her body’s natural heat. Facing them again after she was tightly concealed, Merlin reached down for Gwen’s wrist, checking more than once.
“Is it there?” Arthur asked tightly.
Merlin shook his head, remembering belatedly that there wasn’t enough light for Arthur to see his reaction. “No. You’re right. It’s not there.” Merlin recalled quickly how there was another way. He reached upward, finding a spot on Gwen’s neck, the pulse there thankfully, but quite weak, the reason hence it was no longer tangible on her wrist.
“Well…”
Almost feeling Arthur’s agitation as he didn’t answer right away, Merlin now told him quietly. “She has a pulse.” Then hesitating for a bit, he gloomily added, “I don’t know if it’s working, what we’re doing for her.”
The king barked back at him, fervidly rubbing Gwen’s skin. “Then how about you get that fire started and stop moaning Merlin! I don’t want to hear any more negativity!”
~*~
It had been almost torturous to get out of the pit, what with a broken arm. Mordred had finally managed it and now was on his way back to the cave. After that fight with Merlin, using his magic against Gwen, which had resulted in losing his amulet, and just the physical toils his body had suffered, Mordred was unable to use his power to heal himself. Bits of confusion and weariness were settling in, the chills of the wind and the damaging effect of falling in the snow, making his body shake violently. All he could hope for was that the three of them were suffering just as badly. Maybe even Arthur’s precious Guinevere was dead.
Yes that would be the perfect justice returned.
~*~
With the fire now steadily burning there was an orange-amber glow filling the cave, giving them not the strongest light, but enough to not trip over obstacles, and tend to Gwen. Using just a bit of magic Merlin had been able to restart the fire, keeping the flames at a steady pace and height to avoid Arthur’s suspicion. Then he had taken the cloak from Arthur temporarily, also using a bit of magic to dry it faster than natural. Although Arthur had been a bit surprised that Merlin could get the cloak dried so quickly, he was too concerned about Gwen to question it.
To keep up the task of warming up her body, Arthur was now sitting right by the fire, leant up against the cave’s wall as he held his wife in his arms. In the meantime too, his fingers were still rubbing, hoping to relieve her of that awful blue color tinct.
Merlin was starting to think that Arthur’s fingers would soon be red and raw with how much he was rubbing Gwen’s skin with no effect. And that worried him greatly, the lack of improvement. Now that Arthur was holding her as close to the fire as possible, their clothes less wet already and yet her pulse still fading, Merlin was getting scared. Since getting up the fire, he had started aiding Arthur with the rubbing also, but her skin was giving no sign of a reaction. “I’m going to check it again.” He stated.
Arthur just nodded as he feverishly kept working to warm her body. Only moments had passed and yet each one was crucial.
Bringing his hand to her neck, holding it there for some time, and then letting go with a dour look, Merlin felt cold dread sinking into his mind. It had worsened again drastically.
“What?” Anxiously Arthur asked, noting Merlin’s strong frown.
How did he tell him? Merlin had spent enough time with Gaius to have seen how dangerous too much exposure to freezing temperatures could be. Who knew how long Gwen had been out in it? Morgana said she let her go. How well had she been taken care of before that? She was already feeling a little less than at best with her pregnancy.
“Merlin, WHAT?”
Merlin slowly looked up to Arthur’s taut expression, the man’s hands shaking as he was tending to his wife. Sadly Merlin shook his head, wishing he had something better to say. “It’s still fading. In fact it’s the worst it’s been. Look at her skin, feel it. No change.”
Trembling, his emotions starting to unravel, Arthur recalled a time when he was no more than fourteen traveling through the high mountains with his father and a patrol of knights. Some got caught in a snowstorm. About four of them were exposed to frigid temperatures, suffering badly, their skin marred by a bluish tint like his wife’s now, their pulse rapidly fading.
All four died.
Arthur denied it ferociously, lifting his head to speak to the contrary. “You’re right. She is changing me or making me better or whatnot.” He laughed shakily, rubbing at her precious skin. “I’ve learnt humility with her. She’s made me a better king.” Tears were starting to fill his eyes, the fingers of one hand weaving through the wet curls atop her head. “She’s taught me to take nothing for granted, to be a king of the people. To even pick up after myself. To be a man…” His voice was shuddering, his throat aching. “She’s taught me…”
The words couldn’t be completed. A deep moan formed within his gut, reality slashing his hope. “Ooooh no. You’re wrong Merlin. You have to be. She’s with child. She needs to have the baby because she’s going to be a wonderful mother. She just needs to open her eyes because I can’t be a good king of the people without her. It doesn’t matter without her. Camelot means much to me, but without Guinevere by my side…”
As the tears streaked down Arthur’s face, they formed heavily in Merlin’s eyes. He’d never seen his friend so desolate, never heard his ache so thorough, not even when his father died. That same sharp driving ache was filling him. Gwen was like the heart of Camelot, maybe Arthur the soul, but she was its tender and yet vibrant heart. So resolute. So bound to what was right.
She was bound to what was honorable, what mattered, and the thought of losing her was hellish to Arthur. To come all the way here, find her finally, have her in his arms, and then lose her? Arthur couldn’t even fathom it. She was like the wild red roses, meant to live with him, meant to survive.
Merlin’s tears flowed downward as Arthur clutched tightly to her body, the king sobbing, shattering. Merlin felt his heart turn to a puddle of misery. This couldn’t be happening. It was too wrong. During that love spell the dragon told Merlin that some things were greater than magic, that love was so strong. Nothing could break that spell, but love, hers.
Love?
It hit Merlin hard in the chest.
Arthur scooted just an inch closer to the fire, hoping it would make things better. Praying it would. He kept rubbing, smothering her into the warm blanket. His cheek lowering to the top of her head, he cried steadily, begging his wife, begging Merlin…
“No…come back to me. Please. Please. Merlin…help…me. Please just whatever you can…I can’t lose her.”
A clump of snow forming wildly on the edge of the cave’s roof landed suddenly on the fire, smothering half of it out. The light was dimmer, making Merlin grit his teeth with frustration as he came to a decision.
“Arthur…there’s a way.”
With a tear stricken face, Arthur looked up at Merlin with confusion as his fingers kept up the attempt of saving her with the heat of touch. “What do you mean?”
Hesitating for just a fraction of a second, Merlin told him, “There might be a way we can heal her, but it depends on both of us. I can’t do it alone. And…”
He let the words hang there until Arthur agitatedly gestured for him to go on.
“I can’t do it…without shocking you.” Merlin stated, fear starkly in his eyes, but more so determination. This wouldn’t be easy, but even more intolerable would be to not try.
“Anything. I don’t care. Just do it.”
“You have to help me.”
“I will Merlin! Whatever I have to do, whatever it is, I’ll help. Just, please!”
That irritating clump of snow that had fallen was putting out their fire even more. Merlin announced shakily, “It’s too dark.”
Arthur’s head had gone back down, but as a word in a language foreign to him was whispered, and as IT came into view, he slowly lifted it, took in the golden glow flashing through Merlin’s eyes with amazement. Then he stared at the shining light that had simply appeared, hovering over them, illuminating the ground and the three of them. A glimmer of recognition formed in his stunned mind. He couldn’t remember exactly where and when. He was sure of it though, that he had seen that ball of light before.
And that could only mean something incredible, outlandish. Merlin, his faithful bumbling servant, his most trusted friend…
“You’re a sorcerer?”
~*~
She found Mordred lumbering up the hill, cradling his arm. Morgana moved to him as fast she could, helping him to walk. When he moaned in pain, she gripped him tighter, deeply concerned. She had felt a connection with him the first time she met him, possibly having to do with their magical unity, maybe even their darker aspects of personality. It was not like what she shared with Morgause, which was the true bond of sisterhood, but it was enough to know that he was part of her destiny.
So now, although they had fought earlier, she helped him with care. To that effect he was grateful as years ago he had required her help and now he did too. Even if this moment he put up some reluctance because he thought he shouldn’t need so much help, he too felt connected to her. Together they would do many great things for magic, many terrible things to their enemies.
~*~
No. This really couldn’t be happening. Merlin’s eyes had just glowed with golden light, the weird words he said conjuring an illuminated ball, but that was preposterous. This had to be some kind of jest, some form of his mind hallucinating. Sure, Merlin was ever so faithful, but he was also a clumsy oaf, regularly tripping over things and dropping matter here and there.
Was that all just a ruse, some pretense to hide what and who he really was? It made Arthur’s flesh shiver with fear to think that maybe of all his foes Merlin had fooled him the most. He had gotten Arthur to trust him implicitly. Was that the deadliest mistake he ever made?
Stupefied, Arthur asked again,
“You’re a sorcerer? Merlin?”
It was the exact type of reaction Merlin had feared since becoming friends with Arthur. Nevertheless it didn’t matter because they had no time for it. Merlin hoped he could use his magic to help her, but only if they started it quickly and only if he had Arthur’s complete cooperation.
“Arthur, I know this is shocking. But I give you my word that I have only used my magic for good. I want to do that now to heal her, but I need your help. We’re two sides of a coin, you and I. If we’re going to help Gwen…it has to be together. It has to be with your trust.”
Arthur’s mind was churning. How many secrets? How many times-
“Do you want her to live Arthur?”
That stark question shut off his mind. His heart took over quickly. “Yes.”
“Will you trust me?”
Arthur shakily brought up his head, seeing blue eyes, not glowing ones. “Yes…I’ll…trust you.”
Merlin reached out to touch Gwen, causing Arthur to pull her toward his chest rapidly. With so much misgiving in that gesture, Merlin reminded him, “If you don’t trust me Arthur, this will not work. Magic can be powerful, but love is its own magic. Both together, I think can save her. I just need you to face me on this without any qualms.”
He had plenty of qualms and so many questions, but right now Arthur would do anything to save his wife. The rest would have to wait. Even his suspicions. Nodding his head, he cautiously lessened his hold so Merlin could get closer to Gwen.
“Understood.”
It was a shaky trust definitely, but it would have to be enough. Able to get closer to her now, Merlin reached out to gauge the severity of her condition before he would start it. Touching her bluish skin, he checked for her pulse. Coming to a messy estimate he was guessing they had no more than a few moments. Her pulse at her neck now was nearly nonexistent which meant her body temperature was severely low. “Okay, keep rubbing her skin. Do everything you’ve already been doing. Her body should start warming soon, but she needs your physical touch. Do you understand Arthur?”
Dully Arthur nodded his head, mind and body feeling like it was in a trance that was stalling his normal actions and behavior. “Yes. Okay.” He continued pressing his hands to her skin, head down, but then heard it, looked up to see it.
Merlin’s eyes glowed, before closing, a few words of the ancient language whispered out of his lips. He relaxed his mind, concentrating calmly on the task, locking out any uncertainty from Arthur, for it wouldn’t help.
As Merlin’s hands glowed a golden orb of color, causing her body to also when his fingers passed by, even the cloak shining with color, Arthur’s primal instinct was to grab his wife and shelter her from the man with the radiating hands. He had never seen Merlin like this. Sure his servant had moments of wisdom and all, but as sorcerer he had this total calmness, a strength that baffled Arthur. Instead of coming from his physical stature, it was flowing within, the strongest aura of command. Rubbing her body, Arthur felt like with what he was witnessing, that his part was miniscule at best.
“Don’t stop Arthur.” Merlin stated strongly, feeling edges of doubt from him. “She needs your physical touch as much as my magical one. Keep warming her.”
Slowly nodding his head, Arthur turned to the glowing light, feeling Merlin’s hands coming nearing the spot he was rubbing now. Instinctively he flinched away from the magical hands that glowed like fire’s light. Surely they would burn him, he first believed.
However, when they passed by, there were no burns, no pain at all. The light went right over his unprotected skin and nothing happened.
Dazed in mind, Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of it.
~*~
They reached the cave with Mordred leaning heavily against Morgana, his arm spurting shocks of pain. As she helped him to sit down she was reminded of when he was just a boy once more, how he had relied so innocently on her assistance. It seemed now even though he had made himself into a man, his true age gave off some of that vulnerability.
“What happened?” She asked, as she tended to his arm with what medical teachings she had learned from Gaius years ago, and the magic she still possessed.
Mordred was pretty certain that his scream made the earth rumble so hard that it set off the pounds of snow that chased him and created his fall. Still he was reluctant to put any blame upon himself so his answer only bordered on the truth. “That meddling handmaiden made me lose my amulet in the snow and so my magic couldn’t be as strong as I wanted it to be. Took a tumble and rolled down the hill. It was all her fault.”
Like a young boy he complained and laid the blame. Morgana eked out a smile at that. “So where are they all now?”
Mordred had to admit with a grit of his teeth as Morgana fully set the bone. “I don’t know. I’m sure with the greatness of my magic they’ll fail. It’s too harsh out there. When I spotted her she looked like she was succumbing to the winter weather, just about had enough. They’re all going to die in it I’ll bet.”
To that Morgana had mixed emotions as she replied. “Don’t be totally sure.”
Mordred looked to her strongly. “Right, well it won’t matter because tomorrow I’m going down there to end it for all of them.” He gave a malevolent look. “None of them were truly invited except Gwen who we used ‘friendly coercion’ to get here.”
Shaking her head, Morgana disagreed in part. “You need to rest your arm and give time for the bone to set in place. Maybe we should just let them go, let them die out there.”
Mordred grasped Morgana’s dress’s sleeve with his good hand, telling her strongly, “That’s being weak Morgana. You want to know who Emrys is, don’t you?”
Her ears couldn’t help but pique with interest as he played with her strongest need. “Yes.”
“Then set this arm good.”
~*~
Merlin’s glowing hands struck Arthur with contrasting emotions, from amazement to horror. The words Merlin chanted were delivered in a voice of such depth and authority that it actually humbled Arthur, sending trickles of fear through him. And finally, as Merlin’s magical ministrations continued to heal Gwen, Arthur remembered where he had seen that ball of light before. Yet it gave him no great comfort, the recall instead filling him with shock.
It made no sense. He had been close to death then. How could he have done that?
He looked down, stunned still by what he was witnessing. Merlin’s illuminated fingers would pass over a part of her and bit by bit the bluish tint would start to fade, her natural color slowly filling her skin again. It made Arthur wonder if Merlin had just been humoring him in saying that his physical part of rubbing her skin was required.
What Arthur didn’t know was that Merlin did indeed need it because it made her recovery come faster. The sorcerer never got to use his magic so openly and so healing was something he was still learning. Her condition was so grave that he truly required all the assistance he could get. Arthur didn’t get something else that was vitally important in this, also. When that love spell was put upon him, only Gwen could lift it with her kiss because of the power of love. Merlin hoped that it would be the same here. He truly had no certainty this would work, but with no other alternative he had to try.
“Her color’s come back…” Arthur whispered with relief as now there was barely a bit of blue left. He concentrated on his wife, not Merlin’s unnaturally ignited hands.
Merlin nodded. Then he lifted his hands away, the radiance of them peacefully fading. He moved to check her pulse, feeling finally steady improvement. Already taxed from his earlier fight with Mordred, Merlin let out heavy breaths, slumping some where he sat.
Arthur gazed down at his wife, her color mostly back to normal, but she still did not move, gave no reaction. He had no thoughts about time, had no understanding magic. All he knew was that Merlin was supposed to be some magical sorcerer who should be able to heal her in a flash and yet his wife was still not moving at all.
“What are you doing? Help her!”
‘I’ve done all I can.” Merlin whispered tiredly. “You can still hold her tight, rub her skin if you think it’s needed. Her pulse is not fading anymore.”
That wasn’t enough for Arthur who had witnessed ugly atrocities when magic was used. He saw beings suddenly have enough power to kill someone instantly, to wipe away a scar. He saw the immediacy of magic, how in the blink of an eye it could destroy so much. So he didn’t get Merlin’s weakness at all. It didn’t register to him that Merlin could have limits as a sorcerer. Instead it felt sinister.
That glowing ball of light never should have been in that cave, not if the man was unconscious, close to death. He had been so certain it was there to help him then, but now he doubted everything. If Merlin was some magical sorcerer who truly was good, then why was his wife not waking? What had Merlin done?
What did he allow him to do?
“Do more for her!” Arthur yelled.
It was laborious opening his eyes once more, part of him wanting to sink to the cave’s ground. As he did focus though, Merlin saw the fear, the fury, and the distrust. “Arthur, I can’t-
Carefully laying his wife down to the ground, Arthur got up off his knees, onto his feet. Then reaching down, he grasped tightly to his servant’s collar, forcing him to stand too, pressing him without mercy into the cave’s wall. “Tell me what you did to her!”
Merlin stared. “What?”
“If you’re some magical sorcerer who can heal at the blink of an eye, why isn’t she waking?”
“Because it doesn’t work that way Arthur.”
“She should be waking! You’re a sorcerer, cure her!”
Merlin’s head slowly shook. “No, Arthur you don’t get it. I can’t. We have to wait. I told you it wasn’t just that alone. It was physical and magical. It was you and I.”
Sneering in his face, Arthur punctuated each word for brutal effect, caring only about one thing. “All I know is I watched your hands literally light up like a ball of fire! You could have burned her! Is that what you did to her? Did you burn the life out of her Merlin?”
Eyes widening at that horrid accusation, Merlin had to fight to not use his magic to thrust Arthur away. Thankfully it was at its weakest point. “You think I HURT her? I told you her pulse is returning to normal, slowly, but steadily! I would never hurt her! I would never hurt you, you royal prat!”
“SHUT UP.” Fumbling, Arthur reached into his weapon belt, pulling out his sword from its hold. He pointed its decorated blade, for it was the same sword he took out of the stone, at Merlin’s chin. He drove the blade forward until Merlin had no choice but to hitch his chin upward, his mouth giving a little gasp. “How long have you been practicing it? Making a fool out of me?”
Miserably, Merlin shook his head, hot angry tears forming in his eyes. He had never been madder, never felt more like an aberration, and never struck with such hurt. “I was born with it Arthur. And you’re good enough at making a fool of yourself.”
Lowering the blade, Arthur viciously pointed it at Merlin’s jugular, letting the insult go for the moment as some of that answer surprised him. “What do you mean you were born with it? Is that even possible?”
“Yes. If you come from someone with magic. As I did. I’ve used it many times since I’ve come to Camelot. Is that what you want to hear? I used it to save Camelot, to save you, and to save those you care about, time and time again. Because you have many enemies Arthur. Your father built up many.”
Hearing him bring up his father only made Arthur angrier. He was nothing but a lying sorcerer, using him, maybe planning all this. Maybe…
Perhaps reading his thoughts, Merlin railed back, the rock implanted in his heart, so heavy that he was struggling to stay standing, lifted up only by that blade holding up his naked throat.
“All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you from them. Protect her.” Tears were descending his cheeks heavily now. “I would never hurt her.”
Sullenly he looked away, not caring anymore what Arthur did with that fierce blade. Maybe it was even fitting that he’d die by the one he himself had the dragon burnish exclusively for Arthur’s hands.
To that, Arthur pushed the sword’s blade against his servant’s tunic, ripping some of the material, but not getting to the skin. It was meant simply to be a cold threat, but make no mistake he was ready to do what he needed to if necessary. “You’ve been using your magic on me all this time?”
“Yes, to help you!”
“Without my permission!” Arthur shot back. “Who said I needed it? You’ve lied to me since the beginning!”
That comment brought back Merlin’s hurt eyes, the shrill tearing sound of his tunic jolting him back.
“I never meant to. I didn’t know magic was forbidden until I got to Camelot. I had no control of my magic until-
“Until what?” Arthur sneered.
Merlin sighed, but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to incriminate Gaius in any way.
“If you made her worse now…”
There it was, that accusation again.
“Gwen is my friend, Arthur. My first in Camelot. This is why I didn’t want you to know, because of how you are reacting now, how you are looking at me with so much disgust and fear in your eyes. You think magic is evil but we used magic to get here. And then when we did you asked me vital questions. You brought up strong points about how sometimes people could use magic to heal someone they care for. They do. I have. Over and over. You’re endangered regularly, sometimes for trusting the wrong people.”
A cold glare came to Arthur’s eyes at that. “You have no right to-
Merlin hotly insisted. “You trusted Agravaine! Even when I tried to tell you about him, you never listened! You sent Gwen away because of a lie! She would never hurt you! But you believed a lie, instead of what your heart should have told you.”
Arthur felt himself grow incensed as Merlin threw the banishment at him, caused by evil sorcery, not his will. “Shut up.”
“NO. Listen.” Reaching past the sword, Merlin grasped onto Arthur’s tunic, knowing that his king could at that moment, drive the sword into his heart and his life would be over. But Merlin didn’t care. He needed to get this out.
“It’s not about MAGIC alone. It’s about how it’s used. Nothing I’ve done has been to diminish your reign. It’s never been to hurt anyone you care about, not even your father. I’ve been scared of you finding out. Scared to go to the dungeons. Scared to burn at a stake.”
Arthur’s eyes widened, the sword slipping away just a fraction. The thought of Merlin tied to a stake sent shivers through his body. Oh stop! He was a sorcerer! He lied! And yet the fear in his eyes now…the pain…it wasn’t fake.
Merlin continued. “But what I’ve been most scared of…is seeing you like I’m seeing you now. Hating me. For something I have no control over. Something that just makes me who I am. Magic is not evil. Only its users when they choose to use it to hurt. You said that you’d trust me, but I should have known you wouldn’t. I just didn’t think you’d accuse me of WANTING to hurt her. ”
“You LIED to me Merlin.” Arthur stated harshly, hurt and frightened. Magic was something he grew up being taught to not trust. It was responsible for his mother’s death and other evils. His wife still wasn’t reacting. He wasn’t sure if she was okay and that made him anxious and angry. Feeling Merlin’s hand tightly on his shoulder, his fingers grasping his tunic tightly, Arthur shook his head, lowering the sword just a little more.
“You were my friend. I trusted you completely.”
Pain edged his words, but Merlin had his own pain, and it didn’t come from a blade now that was nicking the skin near his ribs. “That hasn’t changed, not for me anyway. If you can’t trust me anymore, then I guess that friendship wasn’t meant to last. I had hoped you’d be able to take it. Obviously you can’t.”
Arthur’s eyes lifted to that glowing light that was too much of an abnormality. It shouldn’t be there. It shouldn’t have been there years ago. He glanced down at his wife, ever so still, before pointedly facing his servant, the sorcerer, again.
As the blade finally departed his tunic, left it in torn ugly tatters, Merlin had to fight to keep his body upward, to not crumple to the ground from exhaustion and misery.
“Why aren’t you using your magic to fight me?” Arthur wondered out loud, seeing a defeated man, not a sorcerer who with the glare of his golden eyes could end so much.
“I have no reason. It’s you who hate me, not the other way around. Besides, if I wanted to fight you do you think I would try to save your wife and unborn child’s life? Idiot.”
Arthur lifted his hand. Merlin didn’t flinch, just stared him fiercely in the eye. Slowly Arthur lowered it. He needed to stay with her, keep her in his watch. Make sure she stayed warm enough.
“Don’t move. Stay here in this…corner. If you try to cross by us…
If you try to hurt her any more than you may have already done, I swear Merlin…”
His hand was on his shoulder, so Merlin pushed it away now, moving down to the ground, pressing up against the cave’s wall and lowering his head. Arthur didn’t need to finish that statement for its meaning was clear to Merlin. Merlin wrapped his arms around his knees, shaking with upset, not caring about the physical threat because already Arthur had thrust a knife in their friendship.
For his part, Arthur ignored the catch in his throat, forcing his feet to move away from his servant. Returning to the fire, he cradled his wife into his arms, feeling her wrist pulse.
It had returned, steadily beating if he wasn’t mistaken.
He looked toward Merlin. The servant had his back to him, trembling as if furiously cold, which made sense in that he was some distance from the fire. Arthur looked down at the cave’s floor, finding where his gambeson was, fully dried. Gwen was wrapped up enough and he’d keep her warm with his own heat. It was too late to say he was sorry. And what was there to say sorry to? He still had no idea if she was fully alright. And that scared him. That made him fume with upset.
But he could catch pneumonia or….
Arthur lifted his head, threw it back at his servant.
As it landed on Merlin’s arm, the servant recoiled, before seeing the familiar material. Turning his head from it, pushing it away, he buried his face into his knees.
Arthur lay down on the stone floor, wrapping his arms tightly around Gwen, shielding her against his chest.
Just in case.
As just in case too, he kept his sword at his side.
After many long moments passing by,
Merlin let out a few choked angry sobs before he ended the globe of light, instead reset the fire’s strength, and fell to a restless sleep on the stone ground, the gambeson ignored.
Arthur gaped at the fire’s sudden strong flaming, turning around to give Merlin a cold look, but his servant was turned away and solidly shaking, making Arthur’s icy look thaw just a bit.
Day Eight/Future Days/Epilogue