FORGOTTEN

The Knights tensed as shadows in the passage grew and flickered weirdly along the rocky walls. The slumped figure of their injured King half carried by the strange young man appeared from the dark. Regarding the stranger suspiciously, they hurried forward to retrieve their king.

Arthur was bleeding from multiple knife wounds. Obviously Morgana had done her work like a cat worrying a mouse before the final killing move, but the king was alive.

"What happened?" Gwaine questioned roughly before allowing Percival to completely take charge of the now unconscious king. "Who are you?"

"My name is Mordred. Morgana was going to kill him. I stopped her." He looked at his hands stained with Pendragon blood. "We should leave quickly. My blow couldn't have killed her."

The Knights glanced at each other with slightly panicked eyes. "Let's move. Take a group and get all the supplies you can from the castle. Focus on food and clothing. It's going to be a cold trek home. We'll bring the cart around for the king. But, first, he needs his wounds treated!"

The men scattered and scrambled to accomplish their tasks as quickly as possible not sparing a thought for a missing man.

The icy courtyard of the crumbling fortress came alive with men and horses. They hurriedly divided up clothing and weapons amongst themselves. The pair of knights tried to care for the wounded king.

"Throw some straw in that cart to cushion him… Give me that shirt! We'll tear it up for bandages. We need some clean water! Does anyone have full water skins? I don't know what I'm doing here...probably not supposed to be doing this on the ground.. Wish Gaius were here, I have very little idea of what to do."

"Where's Merlin? He's got some experience with healing." The knight looked around and saw the slim, lost looking figure of the manservant who had just stumbled into view and leant heavily against one of the doorways.

"Merlin! Thank the gods! Get over here! Arthur's injured!"

A knight grabbed the manservant's elbow and urgently tugged him over to the litter. Merlin shook his head trying to clear it. "Arthur.." He set to work with fumbling fingers pulling the bloody clothing away from the wounds then washing them and binding them to stop the bleeding. The wounds looked clean but Merlin knew better. Sneaking into the castle through the middens ensured that the filthy cloth touching the wounds would produce infection. Shaking his head once more against the growing haze and stabbing pain he glanced surreptitiously around before lowering his lids and allowing his eyes to glow golden. As a cleansing warmth stole through his hands flowing from him to Arthur, his heart felt lighter and his body felt much weaker.

Suddenly Gwaine cursed. "We should have sent a rider for aid immediately. Send a man now! If he rides hard he'll make it to Annis' city in a day. We need a healer."

"I'll go!" called a knight heading for one of the horses tethered nearby.

Finally the cart and the men were ready. The knights mindfully lifted Arthur into the waiting straw-filled wagon and carefully tucked several blankets around his figure. "Let's move!" The cart headed out through the ice and snow followed by the tense but weary men.

Merlin wrapped his arms around himself as he trailed behind the cart. The caverns had not been warm, but there had been no freezing breeze to cut through him. He stumbled again and again. He shook his head to clear it again. Arthur was wounded. He hadn't protected him. He'd failed in his duty. The horror of the thought numbed him. Merlin was astonished at the bleary memory of seeing the improbable..the impossible...Mordred stabbing Morgana and saving Arthur. He stumbled against Gwaine who was also trudging behind the cart.

"Steady there Merlin. We've got to put some distance behind us before we can rest for the night."

"Yeah" was all Merlin could manage. He shook his head again. The ground wouldn't stay in focus. As the day wore on, Merlin's pace slowed and little by little he was passed by straggling groups of cold and weary men, all focusing on putting one foot in front of another. Walking must have warmed him up. He didn't feel quite so cold anymore. A strange feeling of unreality stole through him and he floated aimlessly in a world of muffled sound.

The band of formerly enslaved knights wove their way down the mountainside tired to the bone but motivated by the thoughts of reaching a warmer climate. Gradually the temperature rose enough that the snow and ice turned the road to thick mud before dropping again as the sun disappeared behind the mountain tops. A light drizzle of rain began to fall before the men moved off the road to make camp for the night. Firewood was scavenged and fires were lit. Supplies were dished out for a cold supper. Then the exhausted men rolled up in their blankets and slept.

Merlin came to himself momentarily as his skin registered rain dribbling down his face and neck from his soaked hair. He looked about in deep confusion. He was standing in the middle of a road and night had fallen. It was so quiet. "Where is everyone? They were just here." Darkness blurred his vision. He took another slow step, stumbled and never felt the blow as his face hit the icy mud.

-mMm-

Morning presented a much pleasanter view when the camp awoke. The green of the forest outweighed the patches of mushy snow and the sounds of merrily trickling water and skittering animal life spread like it's own sort of sunshine; warming the heart and thawing the memory of enslavement in a frozen land. As fires were stirred to life, a counsel was called for the Knights of the Round.

"Do we stay and regain strength or push on? How is the king?"

"Arthur hasn't woken, but he's not got a fever either."

"Well, that's a miracle itself!"

"Yes, but how long will that luck last?"

"Actually, I have awoken and I can hear you perfectly well."

"Sire!" exclaimed the knights hurrying around the fire to his side.

"What is the situation? Report," Arthur said in a firm albeit rather quiet voice as he painfully tried to lean against a log. Surprisingly, it was Percival who answered.

"Sire, the young man, Mordred, said he wounded Morgana but she's not likely dead. We gathered what supplies we could carry from the fortress and journeyed south toward Camelot heading through Queen Annis' lands. We were just about to discuss how best to proceed. The men are hungry and weary. The cold and deprived conditions took a toll on them. We are seeing signs of illness in some cases. A rider was dispatched earlier. We were considering whether to continue on or to make camp, hunt and rest while waiting for aid."

Arthur pushed himself further up on his elbows to survey the state of his men. "Have we crossed into Annis' lands yet?"

"Yes, I believe so Sire."

"Is there game?"

"The forest bears signs of plenty, Sire."

"Then I think we can afford to rest today and continue on tomorrow. Send out the fittest men to hunt for the rest of the camp."

"Yes, Sire."

"And where is Merlin?" Arthur asked grumpily, glancing around. "He can scrounge up something passable for breakfast from the supplies I'm sure."

"I haven't seen him yet this morning. He looked a bit on the worn side yesterday as we were walking. He barely kept his feet. He's probably still sleeping by one of the fires," Gwaine put in.

"Well, leave him be," Arthur shifted uncomfortably and his voice got even softer. "Percival can be trusted to come up with a sufficient cold breakfast...just make sure everyone gets something to keep them going until the hunt comes back."

Percival nodded and the knights broke into groups to take word of the plans to each of the fires and to send out hunters. As Percival doled out packets of dried meat, he noticed that the king had once again fallen soundly asleep.

Arthur awoke to the sounds of a cheerfully crackling fire and low voices. The rich smell of roasting venison and rabbits wafted across the camp. The sun was touching the horizon and Arthur attempted to pull himself into a sitting position leaning back against a log.

"Sir Gwaine, I see the hunt was successful."

"Well, Princess, there's not much that can get away from a hungry man." Gwaine grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm well enough off. But I need to move before I get much stiffer. Is the meat almost ready?" he replied, shifting and grimacing with pain.

"Yes, Sire, here.." Gwaine sliced off several strips of dripping meat and placed it on a plate in the king's hands. The rest of the hungry knights gathered round like vultures. Mordred wandered over from another fire and quietly seated himself, staring across the flames at the king, listening to the conversation.

"Where is Merlin? He knows herbs. Just a few herbs and this roast would be perfection." stated one of the knights.

"This roast is perfect," proclaimed Arthur in a voice Merlin would have termed His Most Royal Pratness voice. He returned his voice to normal. "Of course, anything would taste like heaven to me right now. This is the first food I've had in three days… The last I had was the two half loaves you managed to smuggle for me," he said pointing an eyebrow at Mordred with a nod of his head. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Mordred gave him a slight smile and a somewhat concerned look of confusion in return.

"I hadn't had food since the breakfast just before our camp was overrun. That's how we got caught in the slavers' nets the next day...Merlin was thinking with his stomach, spotted the bait-coneys and went straight for them, the idiot…"

Mordred was now peering around the camp with open concern. "Sire, where is Merlin?"

"What's wrong?" asked the king suddenly tensing at Mordred's uneasiness.

Mordred focused back on the king.

"Sire, you said you'd had nothing to eat for the past three days but the two half loaves…"

"Yes."

"Sire," he hesitated and looked at the ground, "two half loaves was all I could get." His grey eyes flicked up to meet Arthur's. "Where is Merlin?"

Arthur stared back at Mordred processing what he heard and trying to restrain the sudden panic that seized his heart. The idiot. What had he done! The boy had barely enough meat on his bones to keep him going for a day let alone several days of forced march through freezing conditions and no food. The self-sacrificing idiot had given Arthur all the bread. He had not eaten for over four days… He looked to his knights.

"Find him. Now!"

The knights immediately dropped their food and scattered. Urgently running from campfire to campfire they pulled blankets off sleeping men and questioned everyone. Shouts of 'Merlin!' rang through the camp. Within minutes they reported back. Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

"I know he was with us! He treated your wounds! He walked beside me!" Gwaine practically shouted in fear and frustration.

"The other men report that he was also walking beside them, at some point during the journey yesterday," Percival said thoughtfully. "We must have lost him somewhere along the trail."

"Find him," Arthur ground out, doing his best to suppress the fear in his voice. Gwaine and Percival nodded briefly, grabbed torches and began the trek back down the path as a light, cold rain fell along with the darkness of the night.

Arthur couldn't rest. He cast his mind over the events of the past couple of days. Merlin had been upset at the prospect of Arthur facing Morgana but he had loyally stuck with him, never leaving his side until he'd foolishly rushed off to distract the dragon. Wait..no, he'd run in as Morgana cornered Arthur...she'd magically thrown him against the rock wall..he'd been injured! Arthur bowed his head and grasped his hair in grief. Badly hurt AND starving. What was the cost of his friend's loyalty this time?

--mMm-

Gwaine and Percival marched through the deepening darkness in silence, hearts heavy at the thought that they had not once noticed their friend's absence. They debated whether or not to douse the flaming torches and let their eyes adjust to the moonlight, but rain clouds kept obscuring the moon so they continued on, eyes scouring the road for signs of Merlin, secretly fearing that he had left the road and would be missed in the darkness. Finally, unwilling to stop, but aware that the torches would not last all night they smothered one torch and saved it to use upon the demise of the other.

Nearing the wee hours of the morning as the second torch sputtered and began to die, Gwaine spotted what looked to be a rather large pile of muddy rocks that lay impossibly in the middle of the road.

They had found Merlin.

The knights rushed forward and Gwaine dropped to his knees in the freezing mud. They rolled the man over revealing a muddied, marble white face.

"Merlin! Mate! Wake up! Merlin!" In the light of the dying flames they could just make out the shallow rise and fall of Merlin's chest. His thick black hair was plastered to the pale face with mud and water.

"He's frozen! Quick, let's get a fire going. We'll try to warm him up a bit then head back."

The two knights started a fire and did their best to fend off the sprinkle of rain that continued to fall.

By mid-morning all the camp was suffering under the festering, somber mood of the king. As Mordred began trying to put a lunch together shouts were heard and the men stirred.

"We've got him! Found him collapsed in the road a few leagues back. Find some dry blankets and clothes if there are any!" Gwaine called as he rushed ahead of the larger knight who was carrying Merlin in his arms, clasped tightly to his broad chest.

Arthur stood shakily, "Put him down here!" He gestured to his bedroll.

Merlin's head lolled to the side as Percival lowered him to the bed, his sharp cheekbones standing out even more clearly than usual.

"Stoke the fire. He's soaked and frozen through. We've got to get him warmer faster. Should we start another fire on the other side of him? Maybe heat some stones and tuck them next to him?"

"Do it," Arthur ordered in clipped tones. He surveyed his friend's face. Merlin lay absolutely still. His breathing was shallow and inconsistent and almost imperceptible. He looked so much younger somehow. "Did you treat his injuries?" he asked Percival.

The large knight looked from Merlin's face to his king's with a question in eyes. "He was injured?"

Arthur stared pointedly down at Percival's arm where he had cradled the young man's neck. Smears of blood had begun to dry.

"I didn't realize!" he began in a quiet panicked voice. "It was so dark.."

"How did that happen!" Gwaine demanded loudly from his position beside his young friend. He had rolled him onto his side to inspect Merlin's back. There was more than mud caking the dark hair. It looked like copious amounts of blood had run down Merlin's neck and soaked his beloved neckerchief beneath the Saxon disguise he still wore.

"Morgana attacked Merlin in the cave. She threw him against the wall. I heard his head hit…" Arthur's voice trailed off as he inspected his friend as well. "Get some water and let's clean his wounds as best we can."

They carefully cleaned and bandaged Merlin's head then stripped the wet, muddy clothing off his lanky body and wrapped him in several layers of blankets. Meanwhile, Mordred heated water over the fire and steeped some of the meat in it to create a broth. Gwaine propped Merlin up slightly against himself and gently massaged his throat as they tipped the warm broth past his lips. Merlin swallowed weakly. Once they had done what they could, they sat back, wrapped up in baffled guilt, staring at their young friend's face.

How had they missed this? Merlin was such an integral part of life that not having him there should have been as obvious as a horse missing a shoe. One thing was certain, and each of them knew it: Merlin would never have forgotten one of them.

"Gwaine, Percival. Get some sleep. We'll be leaving tomorrow at first light," Arthur said quietly, his eyes never leaving Merlin's still form. They nodded and bedded down. The camp was subdued and the men rested, gathering what strength they could for the march awaiting them the next morning.

Arthur stretched but caught himself as the muscles tugged on his bandaged wounds. He still felt exhausted from loss of blood and sore from his healing wounds but otherwise was surprised to find that he felt fine. Despite his lingering tiredness he felt no inclination to sleep. He had slept and Merlin had paid the price. He alone was responsible for Merlin's well being. Arthur was well aware that the men, Gwaine especially, blamed themselves for having overlooked their companion, but he couldn't fault them. Escaping from Ismere had been the priority. The threat of Morgana had loomed large and they had done what they could, and done it well, to leave as well equipped and as quickly as they did. Still, he felt a strange irrational anger at his men and at himself as he gazed worriedly at the pale young man who shifted weakly beneath the mound of blankets. Merlin hadn't woken yet. Arthur didn't know if that was good or bad. If only Gaius were there.

-mMm-

The men roused themselves and gathered their supplies as dawn was breaking. The knights had a cold breakfast themselves but took time to warm a draught of broth for Merlin. He was still out cold but color had begun to tinge his cheeks and lips although his breaths remained short and rough. After administering the broth as they had the night before, the knights carefully lifted Merlin into the wagon and helped Arthur clamber in beside him. The king had begun to protest but the knights won him over saying that they needed to move fast to find help and besides that, Merlin's body was still struggling to maintain warmth on it's own. Arthur laid down next to him in the rumbling cart and tried to share his warmth as he nodded off as well.

Morning passed to afternoon and Arthur awoke feeling rather warm. In his ear an incoherent mumbling grew louder. He sat up and realized that Merlin was far from needing warmth now. Heat radiated off him and he struggled beneath his blankets, knocking into Arthur.

"Merlin! Shhh. Calm down, Merlin. Can you hear me?!" Arthur whispered frantically. Merlin moaned and stilled a bit, his face flushed and covered with a thin sheen of sweat. His breathing was strained and shallow.

"How far are we from Annis' city?" he shouted. The cart slowed and men gathered around, still walking.

"I'd guess we're no more than a few hours away, Sire. Should we stop?"

"No. Pass some food around and we will eat as we go. We can't afford to stop." Arthur cursed, "Where's that help we sent for?!" He angrily resisted the feeling of helplessness that swept over him as Merlin moaned and struggled beneath the blankets.

Twenty minutes later, voices rang out on the path ahead. Horses and riders laden with packs marked with Carleon's colors trotted into view.

"Thank the gods!" murmured Arthur fervently. Then he called out, "Did you bring a healer?!"

"Here!" called an aging man with light brown hair. He rode his horse up to the wagon. "My name is Darian. What is needed?"

As Arthur opened his mouth to reply Merlin emitted another low, choking cry and began again to gasp and thrash about.

"Stop the wagon!" demanded the healer who immediately jumped from his horse and climbed into the wagon. "Tell me everything you can about his condition," he ordered Arthur as he began to pry at Merlin's eyelids to peer at the madly rolling pupils beneath.

"He took an incredibly hard blow to the head a couple of nights ago. He was exposed to days of terrible cold and wet conditions and he's had nothing to eat for over five days besides a few sips of broth. He's been unconscious for probably the last two days. His fever just started a short time ago." Arthur hesitated guiltily, "He was probably exhausted before all that even began."

The physician lifted his saddened face and took in Arthur's worn and bloodstained appearance. "And you, Sire?" he asked gruffly.

"Don't worry about me. I've been treated and I'm healing well. Just, please, focus on my servant."

Both men recoiled as Merlin hacked out several nasty, violent coughs and continued to struggle beneath the blankets. As Arthur tried to soothe Merlin the physician pulled his bag from his shoulder and dug out two flasks of a reddish potion. He handed one to Arthur. "Take this quickly, then help me get this into your servant." Arthur downed the potion, not caring what it was for, then pulled Merlin up against him.

"Keep speaking to him. It seems to calm him."

Arthur murmured quiet encouragement and comforting words in Merlin's ears as the physician listened to Merlin's chest and looked over his head wound then sat back. "It looks like being so cold for so long has been both a blessing and a cursing. The swelling was kept in check by the cold and it also diminished the bleeding, however, it sounds as though he has developed lung fever. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean, you're sorry! You can treat him can't you?" cried Arthur.

"Of course I'll do my very best, your Majesty. You must recognize, though, that the body can only withstand just so much abuse...and your friend here looks rather frail...add to that his starved state...well… In my experience, only the strongest survive trials such as these."

"You don't know my manservant. He's tougher than he looks. You just take care of him as best you know how. He will pull through. I won't give up on him. He's never let me down!" Arthur turned his burning eyes to Merlin's face and whispered fiercely to him, "You heard me Merlin. Be strong. Do not disappoint me!" He stopped and sat back as a wave of tiredness swept over him. Merlin had also quieted considerably.

"The sleeping draught will aid your healing, Sire. Just lay back. I'll do what I can for your young servant. Try not to worry…"

Try not to worry?!...The man's a clotpole. Arthur realized he should be more grateful to the healer but was struggling against the anger of dealing with someone who seemed to have already given up on Merlin. Only Merlin is allowed to be a clotpole..

-mMm-

Arthur regained consciousness in the comfort of his own room and his soft bed. It had all been a nightmare. Merlin was fine and would be popping through the door to harass Arthur into leaving his cozy nest of blankets at any moment. He would be in for a surprise because Arthur was ready for him. Someone shuffled and shifted their position somewhere behind him. Arthur's eyes flew open and immediately registered the unfamiliarity of the dimly lit room. He warily turned over and saw Percival looking very uncomfortable in the too small chair beside the bed.

"Sire! How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Where are we?" Arthur queried, the answer to his question already half guessed in his mind.

"Carleon. Queen Annis has extended her hospitality."

Arthur noticed the fresh bandages wrapped around his many wounds and the unfortunately familiar pull of stitches as he attempted to stretch. "What of Merlin? What of the men? Bring me up to date," he demanded firmly as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"We arrived last evening. A messenger was dispatched immediately to inform the queen and the court of our current situation and to request horses and supplies for our return trip. The Knights are recovering well. We could be ready to leave any time the horses and carts arrive from Camelot, only…"

"Only?"

"Only Merlin is another story." Percival hesitated and dread filled Arthur's heart. "He's not good Arthur. The healer has stuck with him and Gwaine won't leave his side, but it's not looking good."

"Has he awoken?"

"Yes, but he wasn't aware of us."

"I've got to see him."

Arthur threw back the covers, unsteadily rose from the bed and dressed in fresh clothing Queen Annis had provided him while Percival opened the curtains revealing very little light from the pre-dawn sky.

Percival led the king through the corridors of Carleon castle to a thick wooden door behind which raised voices were issuing. Arthur pulled the door open with no hesitation when he recognized Merlin's voice in the mix. There in the center of the room upon a simple bed the squirming figure of his agitated manservant lay surrounded by Gwaine, the healer and two unknown maid servants.

"No. No...no stop it...c-can't breathe...let me..go," Merlin was gasping brokenly.

"Merlin, mate. Settle down. Just breathe. Come on now," Gwaine encouraged him in the calmest tones he could produce. The others turned at Arthur's appearance.

Darian spoke over Merlin's agitated mutters, "Your Majesty I'm not certain you should be walking about just yet!"

"Never mind that. How is my manservant?"

"Sire, we're doing what we can but he is only getting worse."

"Mother….Gaius? Help me...don't feel..good..Gaius?" Merlin thrashed about weakly under the covers.

"I'm afraid he's developed an infection from his head wound and the lung fever is progressing at a dangerous rate."

Arthur approached the bed and took one of Merlin's long slender hands in his own noting how hot it felt. "Merlin," he called. "Merlin calm down."

Merlin turned his face toward Arthur's voice and his movements calmed. "Arthur?" He whispered.

"Yes, you idiot. It's me," Arthur replied softly, leaning in. "You need to get well. I can't get much done with you lazing about."

"Arthur." Tears began leaking from Merlin's eyes. "Help me..I don't feel so good..Arthur. Help me..I can't...Gaius..I c-can't.." Gulps became gasps.

"Merlin! Stop it! Slow down, just breathe. Come on. Just breathe."

Merlin's eyes closed and his breathing slowed and deepened slightly.

"Good Merlin. Just breathe." Arthur's eyes never left Merlin's face. "He's burning up. Can't you do anything? Does he really need all these blankets?"

"Sire, I know you don't know me, but I promise you.." Darian began.

"Good morning Arthur Pendragon," Queen Annis interrupted the man as she entered the room.

"Queen Annis!" Arthur turned toward her although he still maintained a grip on Merlin's hand. "I thank you again for your hospitality. I'm grateful."

"I'm pleased to offer it. You found your men. I was confident that you would. What news of Morgana?"

"She was injured, but not killed. We escaped while we could." He looked again at his bedridden manservant as Merlin once again began a fevered mumbling.

"Morgana..no..no….not Arthur….stop.."

"I'm sorry your servant has taken ill. I'm sure my physician is doing all he can. Perhaps we should speak somewhere else. Will you join me for breakfast?" She turned regally toward the open doorway.

Arthur was torn. The duty of a king warred with the overwhelming need to stay by his friend's side.

Gwaine read the desperation that passed over Arthur's face and interrupted his thoughts with a whisper. "Sire, I'm not leaving him. I promise you I won't let him…" Gwaine's whisper broke.

Arthur glanced into the knight's uncharacteristically sober face with a pained expression, nodded, released Merlin's hand and turned to Annis.

"Lead the way, your Highness," he replied, kingly mask firmly in place. And he followed the queen from the chamber, leaving his heart behind.

-mMm-

The sun shone brightly over Camelot. The radiant day defied the inner turmoil of the two old friends conversing in worried tones in the throne room. Guinevere and Gaius turned and rushed toward the window as the sound of clattering on courtyard cobblestones below drew their attention. A sweat lathered horse dashed to a stop and a knight immediately dismounted and hurried up the steps.

Gwen returned to her throne and waited with her heart in her mouth to receive the messenger. The doors opened moments later and a disheveled, exhausted yet determined looking man entered the room. The knight dropped to one knee and spoke.

"My Queen, I bring you word of the king and his knights."

Guinevere could discern no tidings from his expression. "Please continue."

"The king was successful in rescuing his men. Morgana was reportedly wounded. They fled Ismere before she could recover and come upon them again. Queen Annis has granted us her hospitality. King Arthur and our knights are at Carleon castle as we speak. The king sustained numerous injuries but is recovering well. The men were in poor condition due to the cold and deprivation but are also almost back to good health with only one exception."

"One exception?" The queen prodded.

"The king's manservant sustained serious injury and had fallen ill with lung fever as well. His condition was worsening when I left."

Guinevere blanched and immediately glanced at Gaius who was looking suddenly pale and panicked. "Lung fever…" She returned her attention to the messenger. "Did the king make any specific requests?"

"Only horses, carts and supplies for the return trip."

Gaius broke in, "My Lady, may I please be allowed to make the journey to Carleon? I have experience dealing with Merlin's lung fever. He's been susceptible to it since he was a child. Perhaps I can aid the healers there."

Guinevere looked at Gaius with sorrow and fear in her eyes. "Of course. It will be difficult to spare you, but if your knowledge can save his life then of course you must go." She looked to a servant in the corner. "Arrange for horses, and supply wagons to leave within the hour." The servant nodded and quickly left the room. Guinevere turned her warm brown eyes once more to the knight before her. "Thank you for your faithfulness to your duty and your king. Please take your rest now. You are dismissed with my gratitude." The knight bowed his head gratefully before also taking his leave.

Guinevere stopped Gaius who was following close on the heels of the retreating knight. "Gaius. Are you sure you are up to such an arduous journey? It's just...I worry…"

"Yes, My Lady." He hesitated, took her hands in his and then spoke softly enough for only the queen to hear. "Gwen, if I don't go and he doesn't make it, I'll have nothing left… Don't you see?" He looked her in the eyes and she saw the sorrow and worry mirroring that of her own heart. She nodded silently and watched him as he left with a haste that would have surprised anyone who didn't know of the old man's mission to save his young ward's life.

An hour later a well stocked convoy of sorts left Camelot in the company of many well armed knights. From her window, Guinevere could see the shining white hair of Gaius who sat atop the foremost wagon.

-mMm-

Three days later the party arrived in Carleon. Arthur was first to greet his men and begin arrangements to move on toward Camelot. Gaius was briskly swept into the castle, through the corridors and into Merlin's room where Gwaine sat despondently next to Merlin's bed while a healer hovered over Merlin applying compresses. The man looked up as Gaius entered. "Gaius, my old friend!"

"Darian! It's good to see you. I must say, I'm grateful to see that it is you who are caring for my ward." The old physician approached the bedside in time to hear Merlin cry out in his delirium. "Oh my boy, why is life always so hard on you?" His sad tone and somber eyes reflected the depth of his concern.

"Gaius, perhaps you should take some rest before working with him. It was a rather long and tiring journey for you, I'm sure," suggested Darian.

"I'll take no rest until my boy is in a more improved state," Gaius replied shortly, his physician's mask slipping firmly into place. Then realizing that his tone had been rather snappish, he softened. "This is nothing new for Merlin. I've come across a combination of herbs that seems to be a bit more beneficial than a standard treatment, my friend. It has proven efficacious for treating Merlin in the past. May I make use of your equipment until my own is unloaded and unpacked?"

"Certainly, certainly," replied the healer, hurriedly beckoning to a servant and instructing that his implements be brought to the room. "I have no trouble admitting that I'm at the end of my knowledge, Gaius. You have experience I would gladly learn from. Tell me how I may help."

Hours later when Arthur returned to Merlin's chambers just before the evening meal he found Gwaine asleep in a chair by the bed, Gaius sleeping in another bedside chair and Merlin lying quietly, breathing shallowly, his glassy eyes tiredly examining the room.

"Merlin!" whispered the Prince joyfully, "Merlin! You're awake!"

Merlin blinked slowly, his eyes wandering over to find Arthur by the door. The corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "No rest ...for the wicked... I guess." he replied breathily. "I'll… have to… muck out… your stables… tomorrow…. Sire… too tired…" He closed his eyes and sudden tears appeared under his eyelashes. "Sorry.. Arthur. Sorry...I should have...I should...have.." Arthur neared the bed and frowned down at him. "I...failed..didn't ...protect…" The words became sobs then frantic gasps as Merlin began grasping at missing air. "I … I..c-can't.."

Arthur panicked. "Merlin stop it! Calm down!" Suddenly Gaius' hands were there pulling Merlin up and pounding on his bony back. "Gaius don't hurt him!" Arthur shouted and struggled to pull the man's hands away as Gaius pounded even harder on Merlin's back.

"Gwaine, take Arthur out of here!" Gwaine's hands locked themselves in an iron grip around Arthur's upper arm and propelled him forcefully toward the door.

"No. No! I have to stay with him! No Gwaine!"

Merlin began coughing fiercely. "That's right my boy! Get it out." They could hear Gaius' encouragement over Merlin's violent gagging, choking, gasping and coughing as they passed the threshold. Gwaine held tightly to Arthur although the king protested mightily. What almost became a wrestling match ended abruptly as a frightening sound hit their ears.

Silence.

Both men backtracked immediately into the room worriedly scanning the patient and the physician. Gaius was carefully repositioning Merlin's thin body against the pillows. He tenderly pushed Merlin's hair back from his sweaty forehead before taking a damp cloth and washing his lips and chin. Merlin was once again fully unconscious.

Arthur and Gwaine approached the bed almost cautiously as Gaius turned toward them and nailed Arthur with an angry look in his steely eyes. "Sire, don't ever interfere with my treatment of a patient." Arthur nodded shamefacedly but said nothing.

Gwaine crossed to the other side of the bed to once again take his seat keeping watch over Merlin, stopped short and leaned over his friend. "What am I hearing? What's that crackling noise?"

"It's the sound of the infection coating his lungs," Gaius explained "His lungs are filling with liquid and thick mucus. It is sticky and makes the lungs difficult to inflate. We will have to help him shake off some of the infection by allowing him to cough. Pounding on the back can help break it up and allow him to expel mucus and hopefully take a deeper breath."

The rest of the evening passed quietly as the three men sat keeping watch and contemplating the white face of the terribly ill young man before them.

After dinner, the healer, Darian, returned and ushered the exhausted but reluctant friends off to get some rest, taking up Merlin's watch and care for the night. Gaius lingered for a moment behind the others.

"Darian, I fear his fever is rising again." He hesitated, then continued in a low voice, "There is something you should know. It would be best to keep his eyes covered under the pretense of keeping his forehead cool when others are in the room. Merlin has magic."

"Yes, I'd already seen the signs of it during his earlier delirium before you arrived. It certainly answered the question of how he managed to survive the ordeal Sir Gwaine detailed for me. But wait! Keep it secret? The king does not know?"

"No. He does not, my friend. And he must not. No one can know."

Darian shook his head in surprise and considered the young man before him. "I thought that was strange..the king of Camelot's own manservant having magic."

"He is the king's sole protection against magical threats," Gaius asserted firmly.

Darian looked his old friend in the eye. "His secret is safe with me. I'm just thankful I didn't accidentally mention anything about it. I just assumed everyone already knew."

The next morning passed much as it had the night before as the elderly physician, the king and the knight resumed their silent watch by Merlin's bedside. Shortly before lunchtime a soft knock finally sounded on the open door.

"Sire?" Leon entered the room. "Everything is ready. When do you wish to leave?"

"I believe it would be better to leave in two days in the early morning, Sir Leon. That way we'll be better rested for the journey and also get in a full day of travel without having to break for camp." The specious reasoning behind the answer fooled no one.

"Sire," Gaius spoke softly, "You must return to reassure your court and kingdom. Merlin won't be going home for quite some time. He won't survive a journey like that for weeks to come. You shouldn't postpone your departure on his account."

Arthur looked at Gaius with a tortured expression. "Will he be coming home Gaius?" he whispered.

"We must always continue as though he will, Sire."

Arthur forced himself to drag his desperate eyes away from his elderly physician's sorrowful countenance. He studied Merlin's sweaty face in silence for a moment before issuing the command "Sir Leon, ready the men. We'll eat and then make for Camelot."

"Yes, my Lord." Leon nodded and left the room.

"Gaius. I will beg leave of Queen Annis for you to stay with Merlin. And…and…" the king's voice broke, then continued in a fierce whisper, "..No. No! We already left him behind once. I can't..."

"Ar..thur." His name floated so softly to his ears he wasn't quite sure he'd really heard it. "Arthur." Merlin's eyelids fluttered. He looked down at the flushed face. "Merlin?"

"Don't..be...stupid...Go home... I'll..come...soon." Suddenly Merlin was, once again, still.

"Merlin? Hey…" He lightly tapped his cheek.

"Mmhm." Merlin's eyelids fluttered again.

"You've made me a promise now idiot. Remember, I vouched for your ability to get through this. Do not disappoint me. I'll have plenty of chores waiting so I'll need you back sooner than later. I don't have time to go chasing about the kingdom looking for a temporary manservant."

Silence met his words but the corners of Merlin's lips twitched upward for a moment. Arthur locked eyes with Gaius communicating everything he couldn't put into words then turned and walked away. "I'll expect to have regular updates Gaius."

"Yes, Sire."

-mMm-

Soon after the rescuers and the rescued returned to Camelot a great feast was held in celebration of the successful return of the king. The food was bountiful and the wine flowed. The court was in high spirits. The king smiled and reassured his people that all was well. Over the next few days, however, it became clear to those closest to the king that all was not well.

A series of missives fairly flew back and forth between Camelot and Carleon. Finally, a week and a half after their return, the king greeted the knights at training with a wide smile, and they suddenly knew that all would truly be well. The knights were invited to gather for an impromptu lunch with the king where the latest letter from Carleon was passed around and discussed with much mirth and anticipation. Snatches of the letter were laughed over and repeated aloud.

"Look at this! Queen Annis decided to visit her guests and ended up staying and chatting for a few minutes with Merlin!"

"Merlin's a charmer!"

"Our Merlin?"

"Maybe Merlin is spilling your secrets, Princess!"

This happy scene repeated itself several times. The knights could always tell when a letter had come.

"They are trying to get Gaius to do some training for their healers. Hope they've all got deadened tongues and really strong stomachs!"

"The queen has decided he will be well enough to go home after he manages to juggle for her again! He won't do it! We'll never get him back!"

The letters passed around were always in Gaius' rather spidery handwriting. Arthur kept the others, the ones written in a weak, unsteady hand, for himself. They were much shorter, much more personal, and much more indicative of just how well his manservant was faring.

"Really enjoying my days off. Thanks Prat."

"Gaius won't write what I tell him to. All I told him to say is, 'Don't be a complete Dollop Head.'"

"I like Queen Annis. She's good company. Much better than you. I have yet to see her throw a goblet at anyone."

"Well, Clotpole, I'm fine, or as fine as I can be stuck in bed with two versions of Gaius constantly hovering over me. And I don't appreciate your suggestion to Gaius that I be the practice patient during his trainings."

"Okay, I like Queen Annis, but it's time to leave. She wants me to juggle again. How she mistook me for a Fool when you were sitting right next to her is a mystery to me."

One day almost two months after the feast, the castle was abuzz with some low level excitement. As the late afternoon sun headed slowly toward the horizon the king and queen gathered on the courtyard steps with the knights to welcome home the Court Physician and his ward.

When the slow moving procession finally halted in the courtyard, Gwaine barked a shout of joy and dashed toward one of the wagons. Gaius' creaking bones could almost be heard across the square as he wearily climbed from the wagon seat and waved off Percival's helpful hands. From the back of the wagon came the happy sounds of Gwaine's rather raucous reunion with Merlin.

Arthur, chafing at having to maintain kingly restraint on the steps, had his hand suddenly gripped by Guinevere as Gwaine emerged slowly from behind the wagon with an emaciated Merlin clasped tightly to his side, apparently bearing the majority of Merlin's slight weight. A hush fell over the several friends waiting on the steps as they took in his abysmally thin frame, white face and the bruised looking circles under his eyes. The distressing thought that this was a great improvement smote their hearts, but good cheer was restored when they recognized the effervescent twinkle in his eye as his countenance lit up and he directed a glowing smile towards the king.

Merlin was home. And not one of them would ever, ever again lose track of him.