Chapter 4 – "Out of the Dark"
"I think Gwaine suspects something," Lancelot said, trying to distract himself from Merlin's condition. The tremors racking him were becoming more pronounced, and he was worried it would get worse before it got better. It hadn't even occurred to him before the shivering had started that whatever was affecting Merlin was akin to severe exposure to weather. Maybe he was just trying to avoid his own memories and so hadn't seen the correlation. He still had nightmares about the family he'd found stranded in the snow when he'd wandered far to the north two winters ago. A mother, father and two children. It had been too late to save them.
"You're probably right," Gaius replied, once again laying a comforting hand on Merlin's forehead. "He's much more observant and persistent than he lets on."
Lancelot couldn't deny that was true. He wondered if it might not be better to put an end to Gwaine's furtive efforts to uncover secrets before he became more overt and attracted attention. "Maybe we should just tell him," he said with a sigh. He couldn't help but think that if Gwaine knew, he'd be another person who could go out on Merlin's surreptitious forays to avert magical attacks. There might be fewer injuries that way. Safety in numbers.
Gaius quashed the suggestion with one simple statement. "That's Merlin's choice to make."
"Of course," Lancelot replied, casting his gaze down to the floor. He felt thoroughly chastised. His cheeks were getting warm, and it wasn't entirely from the heat rising from the fireplace. Then he realized he was starting to sweat, which definitely was a result of standing by the hearth. He pulled his tabard and chainmail together over his head and laid them on top of a chest in the corner. Then he returned to his station by the fire and stooped down to check the bricks. He quickly touched his hand to the top of one of them, just in case he'd left them too long, then rested his palm flat against the top surface once he knew it wasn't scorching hot. It was pleasantly warm, as if it had been lying in the sun on a summer's day. "The bricks are ready."
He started to pick them up, but Gaius stopped him by saying, "Leave them there for a moment. We should take his jacket off so the heat can get at his body more directly."
Lancelot stepped quickly around to the far side of the bed, across from Gaius, and helped him fold the blankets down. Merlin shuddered at the loss of the covers, even though the room was starting to warm up nicely. The hearth might be small, but it was sufficient for the size of the room and aided by the thickness of the castle walls. The heat would carry through the night even if the fire was allowed to burn down.
"Lift him up," Gaius instructed, and Lancelot slid his hands under Merlin's back and gently shifted him into a sitting position. He was relieved to find that although Merlin was still far from warm, he was no longer emitting waves of coldness as he had been when Lancelot had first knelt next to him in the banquet hall. He'd been able to feel the chill even through his chainmail as he'd carried Merlin to Gaius's quarters.
Between himself and Gaius, they got Merlin's jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. As they were working, Merlin's body stopped quaking for a moment. The tremors returned quickly, but they were suppressed now and accompanied by Merlin's voice, weak and stuttering. "What are you doing?" he mumbled. He gave up trying to keep himself from shaking and barely managed to add, "I'm so cold."
"I know, Merlin," Gaius said comfortingly as he laid his hand on Merlin's back and rubbed a few small circles there. "We're trying to get you warmed up."
Merlin nodded jerkily and whispered, "That's good."
Gaius pulled the jacket clear and tossed it down to the foot of the bed, then helped Lancelot lower Merlin gently back down. His eyes were half open, but they slid closed again as he slowly pulled his arms across his chest. It was probably more of an instinctive reaction to the cold he was feeling than a conscious effort, but at least it was movement.
"You can bring the bricks over now," Gaius said as he glanced over at Lancelot.
"Oh. Yes, of course." He'd been distracted by Merlin's rousing. He quickly went over to the hearth and brought the bricks back, one in each hand. They felt almost uncomfortably warm to him now, but they weren't near hot enough to burn and would probably feel wonderful to Merlin.
"Put one on each side of his chest," Gaius said, "right up against him."
As he carefully placed the bricks, Merlin flinched and groaned, then a hard series of shudders ran through his body. Lancelot was about to pull the bricks away, thinking they were too much of a contrast in temperature and perhaps causing pain, but then Merlin took a deep breath and let it out shakily. "Feels good," he muttered. He was still shivering, but it seemed less pronounced now.
Lancelot and Gaius exchanged relieved glances and pulled the covers back up over Merlin. He shifted his legs and shimmied a bit, as if he was trying to burrow deeper into the blankets.
Lancelot felt a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, but then Merlin's forehead creased and he blinked his eyes open. "What happened?" he asked, turning his head slightly towards Gaius.
"We're not entirely certain, Merlin. We were hoping you could tell us," Gaius said as he tilted his head and peered intently at his ward.
Merlin was silent for a moment, his eyes vacantly staring. Lancelot hoped that was because he was trying to recall what had occurred in the banquet hall and not due to awareness abandoning him. Then Merlin sucked in a sharp breath and twitched his head rapidly, his eyes squeezing shut. Another round of intense quaking went through him, but it faded away after a moment. "Not sure," he mumbled. "Can't think. Tired."
Gaius patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Get some rest. You can tell me when you're feeling better."
Merlin didn't respond. His body was still trembling slightly, but his face was starting to relax and his breathing was becoming more even. Lancelot figured he'd probably be asleep soon, but he didn't want to leave just yet. "I'd like to sit with him for a while, if that's all right?" he asked Gaius.
"No," Merlin said in a rough but surprisingly firm voice. "Don't."
Lancelot was taken aback and started to protest, not knowing why Merlin would be so abruptly adamant about being left alone. Then it dawned on him that Merlin probably did remember what had happened to him and simply didn't want to talk about it just yet. It wouldn't be the first time he'd kept something disturbing to himself. If it was important to anyone but himself, he'd tell them soon enough.
He might also be worried he'd have a nightmare after falling asleep and didn't want anyone to witness it. That had happened once on a patrol, and he'd been mortified when the entire camp had been roused. He was so willing to share his cheerfulness and optimistic outlook, but his pain was his own, an intensely personal thing. He kept it carefully hidden, but it came to the surface every now and again. It was apparent to those who knew where to look.
"All right, Merlin," he said quietly. "I'll see you in the morning." He went over to the chest and gathered his tabard and chainmail, then started to leave, but Merlin called him back.
"Lancelot?" He had his eyes open again, and they held a glint of something deep and unsettled.
"Yes, Merlin?"
He paused for a moment, then simply said, "Thank you."
Either that was all he'd meant to say and he'd inadvertently let something else show through, or he'd been considering saying something else and had changed his mind. Either way, Lancelot accepted it. "You're welcome," he said sincerely, then added to himself, Always, Merlin. Whatever you need.
He nodded to Gaius and went down the stairs, but he lingered in the outer chamber. He closed the cupboard door Gaius had left open earlier and stared at it for a moment before looking down at the floor. It simply wasn't fair, the weight that rested on Merlin's shoulders, the destiny that sometimes seemed more of a curse than a calling. It wasn't right that he had to hide who he was. He deserved to stand in the light, unashamed and unafraid.
Lancelot's thoughts drifted back to the first time he and Merlin had gone out on one of their clandestine adventures. There had been a griffin stealing livestock near the village of Mirren, but the creature was less than half-grown and thus much more easily dealt with than the one they'd faced on his first visit to Camelot. Merlin already knew the spell that was needed, and a simple spear had dispatched the beast quite handily. No need for a charging horse or a lance. It had been intensely satisfying to handle the threat with no one being killed, other than the griffin, and really, he'd earned his fate by killing off the livestock the people so desperately needed if they were to survive the winter. Merlin had come away with a slash to the back from the griffin's talons, gotten when he shoved Lancelot out of the way of the beast's thrashing death throes, but that proved to be fairly minor.
The truly memorable part of the day was seeing Merlin standing so tall and confident, casting a spell without needing to worry who was watching. It had given Lancelot a pang of joy in his heart, a thrill at witnessing something he knew to be rare and precious. It was that more than anything that made him willing to follow whenever Merlin asked. And then there had been the time Merlin had confessed he felt a kind of freedom in being able to stand side by side with someone who didn't believe he was a threat to the kingdom simply for possessing magic and would never betray him to the pyre or the axe.
Lately, though, Merlin was getting more and more careless with his magic. The incident with Arthur's shirt that morning was just one example. Lancelot felt a bit guilty that he'd encouraged Merlin with the comment about his talents, but he hadn't expected him to perform magic in the middle of a crowded hallway. He'd felt an icy chill in his guts when he'd heard the words he knew were a spell, purely from experience in hearing others like them. He'd done little more than raise an eyebrow when he'd turned back around, though, because he didn't want to draw undue attention by berating Merlin in the midst of so many people. He was beginning to wonder if he'd been doing his friend a disservice by giving him such an open outlet for his magic, and now caution was slipping even inside the castle walls.
At times the recklessness seemed innocent, like this morning, but there were occasions, usually when Arthur was in some kind of danger, when it seemed like something far more serious. Merlin had been using spells lately in the vicinity of others that weren't strictly necessary, particularly ones for making some kind of light. Never directly in front of others, at least not when he first cast the spell, but the potential for discovery was there. It was almost as if Merlin wanted to be caught, was so tired of hiding and lying that he would accept almost any consequences, even if it meant using his magic to escape the prison cell he'd be sure to end up in and going into hiding. If only he could use his gifts as they were meant, whenever they were needed. The restrictions he lived with, day by day, paradoxically put him in nearly as much jeopardy as having his secret known. There were times when Merlin simply could not use his magic, even to defend himself, because others were there, looking right at him, and would not be as understanding as Lancelot. Unfortunately, Arthur very well might number among those, and Lancelot believed that was more of a fear and sorrow to Merlin than almost anything else in his life.
The sound of the door to Merlin's room closing and footsteps on the stairs caught Lancelot's attention. He looked up to see Gaius descending. There was a frown on his face.
"What's wrong?" Lancelot asked apprehensively, thinking something might have changed in the handful of minutes since he'd left the room.
"Nothing," Gaius replied as he reached the main floor. "At least nothing more than has already happened. I was making sure the fire was stoked. He's asleep now." He certainly seemed more troubled than his words would indicate. Maybe he was simply wondering what it was Merlin was keeping from them. He managed a brief smile for Lancelot, though, as he gripped his arm and said, "Thank you, Lancelot. You have no idea what a relief it is to me to have you looking out for Merlin."
"All this thanking!" he exclaimed, feeling the sudden need for a moment of levity. "It's really not necessary. I'm just doing what needs to be done."
"Of course you are," Gaius said, giving Lancelot's arm a quick squeeze before letting go. "But it still needs saying. It should be said, every chance we get, for all the times it goes unsaid."
Lancelot knew he was thinking of Merlin as he spoke. He glanced up towards the closed door at the top of the stairs, then looked back at Gaius. "Let me know if you need anything." He left unspoken what he was certain was understood: If he needs anything. Anything at all. If it can be done, I will see it done.
He stopped on the way out to put on his cloak, but draped his tabard and chain mail over his arm. There was no point in putting it back on. He wasn't going to return to the banquet. He simply didn't have it in his heart to pretend that all was well with the world. Then he left, closing the door to Gaius's chambers behind him and quickly striding down the hall.
A chill went through him as he walked, and he stopped to look around uneasily. There was nothing apparent out of the ordinary, but he had a sudden, unaccountable feeling there was something lurking just beyond what he could see or feel. He didn't think it was his imagination. It was entirely possible Merlin already knew what it was, had seen some kind of omen as the midnight hour of Samhain had arrived. The fact that he didn't want to talk about it worried Lancelot more than almost anything else possibly could. It led him to believe they would all be tried and tested, possibly more than ever before. They might not all emerge unscathed this time.
The End