Fic: Crossroads Of Disbelief, Merlin BBang
Chapter Three
Merlin had gone back to his patient before the sun had even begun to hint at arising, tiptoeing past Gaius’s bed so as not to wake his mentor. When he’d approached the dungeons the same guards had let him pass with little comment, watching dispassionately as he moved into the cell with a torch in one hand and supplies in the other.
When he’d laid his eyes upon his charge, his shoulders had pulled stiff with a sudden sharp fear. The man looked as still as a corpse, lying on the dirt exactly as Merlin had left him hours before; his skin so pale he was practically glowing in the torchlight. Upon approach his shallow breathing and feverish way became clear, his flesh shining with perspiration and the leggings of his pants sticking too close.
He was unresponsive.
It hadn’t been a positive sign, and after looking at the wounds on his back once more Merlin wondered if the executioner had possibly contaminated the tip of the weapon as an extra form of punishment. Or perhaps he had just failed to clean it after previous whippings. The care Merlin had taken earlier should have been enough to stave off infection, but it was apparent that that would not be the case.
“Edgar?” He’d prodded the mans arm and received no response. After a few moments of that he’d gone and re-cleaned all the wounds, grimacing at how much more they had swollen in the few hours away. It had been apparent that they would not heal, not with a mere poultice and definitely not lying on the cold floor of a filthy dungeon.
When Edgar didn’t wake up during the cleaning Merlin had begun to worry more than was perhaps warranted. He couldn’t let the man die despite his deeds. Not like this. Besides, Arthur had decreed he keep him alive, and he hadn’t provided any limitations on how far Merlin could heal him.
So, with caution, he had whispered all the healing incantations he had been studying, his hands held gently above the wounds, his finger tips tingling with the energy he was using.
He hadn’t left until the servant girl had arrived with the prisoner’s breakfast, and the guard had given him a peculiar look as he escorted her in. Edgar hadn’t awoken, but his colour looked about a thousand times better, and Merlin had decided it was a job well done.
Entering into his rooms once again, exhaustion heavy about his shoulders and his head feeling thick, he stopped and stared.
And blinked.
Then he scratched his head, and stared some more.
“Ah, there you are Merlin.” Gaius announced, moving about to stand beside him, breakfast still in hand.
“Gaius, is that” he trailed off, looking at the monstrously sized portrait leaning against the back wall of their dwelling, hiding several book shelves behind its mass.
“A portrait of Edgar posing as Arthur, yes.” Gaius shook his head at it and moved back to his table. “The servants were ordered to destroy it, but seeing as you were the one who has been his manservant for the last month they felt it poetic justice that you had the honour.” He looked at it over his shoulder with a frown, and then shook his head, turning back to his work. “When he found the time to have it painted I have no idea,” he muttered mostly to himself.
Merlin stared at it a moment longer, confident and intelligent blue eyes stared back at him and he realized this was the first time he’d ever really looked at the painting. The artist had apparently also managed to incorporate the hint of impatience from his subject, no doubt from him having to remain still for such an endeavour. Merlin grabbed the biggest sheet they had and magicked it over the entire thing, making sure not even a corner of colour peeked around the material.
“I’ll deal with it later,” he announced and turned his back on it. “What’s all this then?” he gestured as he noticed the unusual number of clean medicine pots lining a back table. Gaius looked upon it with a sigh.
“The Prince is moving that we seek reprisal for actions taken against him by invading King Baranak’s land.”
“You can’t be serious!” Merlin exclaimed, turning on Gaius with surprise. “He’s an arse, that’s a given, but his people don’t deserve to pay for his actions. If we invade countless innocents will be hurt if not killed.”
“On both sides,” Gaius agreed heavily, “which is why I’m getting an early start on preparing some of my more durable remedies. If they decide to take action, then they will need medicines for immediate treatment in the field.” He picked up his mortar and pestle and began grinding whatever was in it a little too emphatically. “Thankfully Uther is not yet convinced that such action should be taken, considering the punishment that is already being carried out. He has not, however, completely dismissed young Arthur’s suggestions yet.”
Merlin sat down heavily and held his head in his hands. “I feel as though I’ve gone mad. Tell me Gaius, do I look any different to you?” The older man looked him over briefly from his spot across the room.
“You are perhaps a bit more pale than normal. How is your head this morning?”
“Ringing like a jester’s bells.”
“You should get more rest, especially as you’ve spent half the night caring for the ill.” He announced and turned back to his work. “Speaking of which, how is the fallen King?”
“He’s alive,” Merlin spit out, and then shook his head to try and rid the vehemence that he heard in his voice. “As per Arthur’s orders.”
“So his back wasn’t as damaged as you initially believed then?”
“Oh no, it was a mess. I swear I could see the bone of his rib through one slash it cut so deep. I actually had to sew his flesh together so he would stop bleeding and he was already falling to fever when I first arrived. He couldn’t even wake up properly when I went back this morning.”
“How was he when you left?”
“Better,” Merlin responded a bit too quickly, and then stood. “I think I’ll take that nap you recommended now,” he pointed in the general direction of his chamber and began moving towards it, feeling his mentor’s gaze on his back as he went. He almost managed to slip through the thin door, when Gaius called him back. He turned to find the old man frowning at him
“What did you do, Merlin?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all, I just tended to his wounds as ordered.” He went to turn around again.
“Merlin.” Gaius’s tone was not amused this time and Merlin’s shoulders slumped forward.
“He was dying Gaius. When I went back the poultice had done nothing for him, his wounds were leaking unnatural fluids and his fever burned me when I touched his skin. I had to do something! Arthur ordered me too.”
“What did you do?” Gaius asked again, and this time a little dread crept into his tone. Oh, how he had the ability to make Merlin feel guilty.
“I may have used a little magic to heal him.”
“Merlin! What were you thinking?” Gaius didn’t sound as surprised as he probably meant to. When Merlin looked at him he was rubbing his brow wearily. “Overlooking the fact that the guards must have been close by and could have come upon you at any moment what would have happened had Baranak awoken during the spell?”
“He was too ill to wake up at that point. If I didn’t do it he would never awake at all. I will not apologize for my actions,” Merlin stood taller and crossed his arms over his chest.
“No, you never do,” Gaius sighed and shook his head. “I only ask that you take more care Merlin. Especially around men such as Baranak. If he had discovered your secret there is no telling what he would have done. He could force you to aid in his escape for fear of being revealed. He could tell the guard just to spite you.”
“I wouldn’t allow it,” Merlin rebutted immediately. “Besides, I’ve been working on memory charms. They’re actually quite simple and it would have been easy to remove whatever knowledge I needed.”
“Memory charms are not simple, Merlin. They take skill and mastery and can cease working at any given time if not done properly.”
“The point is that I wasn’t caught, and now he’s going to survive. Until he’s beheaded.”
“You seem a bit more motivated in your duties than I first believed, considering the torment that man has no doubt put Arthur through,” Gaius rebutted, throwing Merlin for a loop.
“I…I’m just doing as Arthur asked, Gaius. I have always done my best where he’s concerned.”
“I am merely worried that you’ve grown too attached to Baranak. It would not be unusual to develop some form of rapport after a month of working with him. Especially when you feel your place by Arthur’s side is uncertain.”
“Well there’s no need to be concerned,” he said, though he wasn’t so sure himself. He frowned and rubbed at his head again, hating feeling this way.
“Of course,” Gaius finally relented. “You should have that rest now, before you collapse on me.” He said kindly and was suddenly placing a hand on Merlin’s arm, making him jump. He hadn’t even heard him move. “I’ll check on the prisoner in a short while, examine your ministrations and see if there is any change in his condition.”
“Right.” He went to his room but paused on the threshold and looked back. “Gaius?” He asked. He was on the verge of asking if maybe they had it wrong this time, and that Arthur was actually the one being tormented, locked up alone and in pain in his very own dungeons. But when Gaius looked at him he couldn’t put voice to his concern, because it was a ridiculous concern in the first place. Of course Arthur was fine, Merlin and countless others had seen that for their very own eyes. “Thanks,” he said instead. When Gaius smiled kindly he went and collapsed on his bed. He just wanted the ringing to stop so he could think clearly.
Sleep would help.
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Later that day he emerged from his room to find Gaius sitting at his table, gazing out the window with a thoughtful look on his face. He looked over at Merlin when he stepped into the room, the same thoughtful look on his face.
“What?” Merlin asked, feeling slightly self-concious from the stare.
“I went and examined the prisoner,” Gaius announced and Merlin moved closer, instantly concerned.
“And? He’s still doing all right?”
“He is. I managed to get him to drink a few cups of water with one of my special blends, which will go a long way in replenishing the blood he lost.” He announced.
“That’s a relief,” Merlin sighed and joined him at the table, reaching for a piece of bread and cheese that was waiting for him. At Gaius’s look he concentrated on his meal.
“Indeed. His fever is greatly diminished, to the point where he almost doesn’t have one anymore. His wounds are healing extraordinarily well considering. In fact I’d say whatever you did to help him has placed him in some form of healing trance.” Merlin nodded in acceptance of this, not questioning the healer’s diagnosis. What Gaius didn’t mention was that the wounds, while still nasty and no doubt painful, had been healed more than he’d expected, even with Merlin’s aid. It would take several weeks yet before they healed fully, which of course meant they never would, but he doubted there would have even been any lasting muscle or nerve damage were the man not to be killed.
It was remarkable.
He doubted Merlin even understood how much power it took to master common spells, let alone the nearly impossible art of healing.
Remarkable indeed.
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Merlin had gone back to check on Edgar the evening before, stirring him enough to swallow more liquids (not all of it making it into his slack mouth). The air was still ridiculously cold down there, and without his raging fever his skin was now cool to the touch. Too cool, as he was shivering.
It hadn’t been right to leave him lying on the hard ground with nothing to warm him but a pair of blood soaked pants.
He cleaned the wounds, which were looking much better but were still a far cry from healed, and then draped a spare shirt he ‘happened’ to be carrying over his back before the guard came and ordered him to leave.
Now, with the morning sunlight disappearing behind closed doors he trudged back down the narrow staircase. It took him a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, but he had no trouble seeing Edgar, seated stiffly in the centre of the room, when he entered.
The man looked up, his hair falling over his forehead but not hiding the piercing gaze he had levelled on him as he entered the dark area. He had tensed, one hand falling to the ground, for balance or leverage Merlin was unsure, but he relaxed almost immediately upon his entry.
“Merlin,” he greeted, voice rough and scratchy and still somehow imposing.
“Edgar,” he responded, and turned to put his torch in its place on the wall. When he looked over his shoulder it was to find the prisoner with his eyes closed and head bowed, shaking from side to side. “Are you all right?” Merlin asked tentatively, taking a step closer and the man glared at him.
“Define you impression of ‘all right’ and then I shall answer,” he growled. “And before I forget, how many times do I need to tell you to not turn your back on the enemy?” Merlin frowned at him, because he had just turned his back on him, completely. It had been a foolish thing to do, and had Edgar meant him harm he would have probably managed it. At least for a moment, before Merlin got his bearings. Still, he knew better, be it from experience or Arthur berating it into him every time he felt it was necessary.
“You’re hardly capable of hurting me in your state,” he defended instead, but didn’t move any closer, because despite his injuries Merlin was aware that despite not being the best fighter, Edgar was a strong man.
“Never underestimate a person, Merlin, no matter their state. It could get you killed,” Edgar sighed, and then shifted slowly onto his rear, a look of pain briefly crossing his features before being concealed.
“Or worse,” Merlin agreed off hand. He moved closer to Edgar, taking in his colour and breathing. “At least you look better,” he said softly, and blue eyes once again came up to meet his.
“I suppose I have you to thank for that,” he said, no question at all in his tone which had Merlin on edge once more. Maybe he had overheard his healing incantations…
“Hardly. A poultice and some bandaging was all you needed.”
“I don’t know why you bothered, considering the circumstances,” Edgar closed his eyes and bowed his head again, his discomfort obvious and, right on cue, Merlin’s concern blossomed.
“I need to take another look at your wounds,” He announced. Edgar sighed and nodded before moving to pull the dirty tunic off. Every inch of movement looked painful, and he was certainly taking his time about it. Merlin stepped forward quickly and, without thinking, placed a hand on his shoulder to stop the pained action. Edgar looked up at him sharply and Merlin cleared his throat in sudden discomfort. “I can just lift the shirt off your back, no need to remove it completely.”
After a moment Edgar nodded in agreement and bowed his head, letting his hands fall into his lap.
Merlin moved behind him and did as he said, pushing the fabric up and away until the entire back was exposed. It only needed a little cleaning and he lathered on the poultice again, before letting the shirt fall back into place.
“It’s looking better.”
“It hurts more than a severe lance blow,” the prisoner declared. Merlin couldn’t agree to that, seeing as he’d never jousted and had absolutely no inclination to ever try, despite Arthur trying to force him to learn so he could use him for practice (target practice more like). He didn’t respond, casting his eyes about the room instead.
He saw that a bucket had been added for waste, and an empty wooden mug was rolled up against the wall near the door. Beside it were a few slices of old bread, clearly untouched and with no intention of being approached any time soon. Merlin frowned.
“You need to eat,” he declared and startled slightly at the disgusted snort he got in response.
“Not even rats would eat that,” he proclaimed and there was really no arguing the point because looking at the meal Merlin was pretty sure that was true. Still…
“You need to keep up your strength.”
“Yes, and that,” he nodded in the direction of the bread, “is not going to help me in that task. Why are you so concerned anyhow? You think of me as an enemy, one that tried to kill your Prince,” he spat the words out in distaste. “You shouldn’t be helping me like this,” he gestured carefully at his torso, whether to indicate his injuries or his tunic or both Merlin had no idea. He supposed it didn’t really matter.
“The Prince has ordered it, or I would not be here,” he reminded and Edgar nodded, looking even more miserable than before, casting his eyes about his tiny cell.
“Tell me Merlin, if your Prince ordered you to jump off a cliff, would you do so?”
“Of course not,” he found himself rolling his eyes. “Though Arthur would probably jump off the cliff first if he deemed it necessary, and then I’d have to follow to keep the git out of trouble…” he stopped his rambling the moment he realized what he was saying and stood abruptly. “I must go,” he announced and headed to the door, stopping to grab his pack and the flickering torch.
“Merlin,” Edgar called out and he turned around, unable to ignore the request. “What do you see, when you look at me?” He asked imploringly from his spot on the floor. Merlin opened his mouth to reply, and then hesitated. He stared a moment and swallowed thickly, before shaking away his uncertainty.
“I see King Edgar Baranak,” he said softly, “an impostor and traitor to the crown of Camelot.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” the seated man asked. Merlin turned and left the cell, taking the torch with him and feeling guilty for leaving the prisoner once more in the pitch black.
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