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Arthur woke to the world moving around him, his back flat on a hard surface and the feeling of movement all around. Exhaustion pulled at his senses, but he pushed his eyes open, seeing through the forced slits a blurry world of white and dark. A round face, fuzzed and darkened, appeared in his vision.
“Sire?” a voice asked, far away as if in a tunnel.
Arthur tried to speak, tried to make his voice work, but all that came was a low grunt and his eyes slipped shut once more.
“It’s alright sire,” the voice spoke. “Everyone is alright, we are on our way back to Camelot now.”
Reassured and dauntingly tired Arthur let himself fall once more back into the dark recesses of sleep.
*
When Arthur woke again his senses were sharper and he could feel the bitter cold lapping at his cheeks. The world was still moving around him but the heaviness in his limbs had gone. He now felt the sharp sting of his wounds in shoulder and thigh, the pain pulsing with each pass of his blood. He shifted and grunted in his displeasure and immediately felt a presence at his side. Opening his eyes, he looked up into the grinning face of Percival.
“Awake then sire?” his knight asked, helping shift Arthur into a more upright position. Wincing, Arthur surveyed his surroundings from his better vantage. He was loaded on the back of a small wooden wagon, a horse pulling from the front. Behind them was a matching cart, he could see the huddled forms of his knights sheltering from the chill of the snow, borrowed Saxon clothing covering their backs.
“Just about,” the King replied. He took a quick count around them, all knights seemed accounted for and Sir Gwaine was dozing lightly opposite him.
“We should be back in Camelot by nightfall sire,” Percival continued. “How are your wounds feeling?”
“Painful but not life threatening,” Arthur grunted staring down at the makeshift bandages around his wounds. It was as true an assessment as any, the injuries meant to be painful, not deadly, Morgana always did like to play with her food.
Sighing Arthur leant back against the cart walls looking at the changing landscape around them, the snow retreating, being replaced with greening foliage. “Where’s Merlin?” he sighed, shifting gingerly. “I would have expected him to be hovering fretfully.”
Percival snorted in amusement taking a quick look around. “Not sure sire, haven’t seen him. I’ll have a quick check, let him know you are awake.”
“Yes, please do, no doubt he will want to scold me for getting injured again.”
Percival smiled fondly at the thought and shouted over to the cart behind.
Arthur’s eyes fell on Sir Gwaine, his snorting breathes irritating in the peaceful silence. Reaching out his good leg Arthur nudged the knight’s leg, not very gently. Gwaine startled awake, wincing when he moved too quickly and frowning at the grinning King.
“Well good morning to you to Princess,” Gwaine muttered shifting in his seat. “I see you’ve joined the land of the living.”
“And I see you are doing no work… again.”
“Hey – injured and resting here.”
Arthur rolled his eyes but fixed Gwaine with a solemn look. Gwaine straightened knowing that the King was now on duty, not Arthur. “What was Morgana doing in those caverns?”
“Looking for something,” Gwaine replied. “Not sure what it was exactly, or what she wanted it for. But that blue guy, pretty sure it was him she wanted.”
“So, she didn’t get what she was looking for?”
“Not as far as I know. Pretty short time-frame for her to find it when she was busy using you as a pin cushion a few minutes after we saw it.”
Arthur breathed in relief. He might not know what it was that Morgana was after, or to what end, but that fact that she didn’t get it was a reason to be thankful.
“Arthur,” Percival muttered. Arthur glanced back to see Percival shifting uneasily by Arthur side, his face marred with a frown. Immediately Arthur straightened.
“What is it Sir Percival.”
“Merlin sire…” the knight began, “no one’s seen him.”
“Where has that idiot wandered off to now?” Arthur huffed with a roll of his eyes.
“No, sire,” Percival swallowed. “No one has seen him at all. Not since we were in the caves.”
“What?” Arthur frowned. “He was injured, he would have been right next to me. You would have seen him when you found me?”
Percival was already shaking his head frantically and Gwaine had perked up from his sleepy lounge. “We didn’t find you sire,” Percival replied. “It was Mordred-“
“Mordred!” Arthur called around. The figure sat up front by the horses turned to reveal the pale blank face of the small druid boy he had met all those years ago.
“Sire?” the boy asked innocently.
“Merlin,” Arthur spoke urgently twisting in his seat ignoring the flare of pain it brought. “He was right by me in the caves, you must have seen him. Where is he?”
“Merlin sire?” the boy frowned in confusion.
“Merlin,” Arthur said through clenched teeth, now starting to lose patience, worry creeping into his gut. “My servant, he was with us all in the caves. The one I was with when you found us.”
“Oh,” the boy exclaimed, his face morphing to one of sympathy. “I am sorry my lord but he died. The blow cracked his skull and I thought the priority would be to get you to safety sire.”
Arthur felt the blood drain from his face with each passing word, but it was not his own voice that exclaimed denial.
“Dead?” growled Gwaine who was staring at the boy who had spoken of their friend’s death with such nonchalance in horror. “Merlin can’t be dead!”
“Did you check?” Percival strode forward, grabbing Mordred tunic tightly. “Did you check?”
“He- his head,” the boy stuttered, “it was such a sight, I admit I didn’t want to get close. But no one would have survived that.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Arthur found his voice, it coming out startlingly weak and threaded.
Mordred turned to look at him, his cool blue eyes emotionless. “No one asked sire.”
*
Merlin watched the Diamere disappear into the darkness of the caves, its blue light glittering off the surfaces of rock. ‘Arthur is his own Bane’.
The realisation had left Merlin reeling and he leant his aching head and neck against the rough stone behind him. Arthur was his own Bane…
His eyes felt heavy once more and the ache in his skull increased, he felt himself falling back into a restless slumber, the events of the past view days marring his dreams.
*
“We must go back!” Arthur announced desperately pushing his aching body to standing.
“Arthur we are almost home,” Percival reasoned, lending the limping King and shoulder to lean on.
“Are you suggesting we leave Merlin out there?”
“No sire but we are almost back in Camelot. Let us get the injured home and send Leon and Elyan back.”
“We do not have that kind of time,” said Arthur, shrugging out of Percival’s hold and standing on his own.
“If what Mordred said is true-“
“Then what?” Arthur interrupted sending a glaring look at his Knight. “I will not believe it, not until his cold body is before me. Gwaine?” Arthur glanced at the knight, his face paler than it had been in those caves.
“Aye,” the knight murmured pushing determinedly to his feet. “We go back.”
“Move all the injured to the other cart,” Arthur instructed to Percival. “We will take a horse each and ride hard back to the castle. We will be back in Camelot, with Merlin, before night fall tomorrow.”
Percival swallowed but nodded in acquiesce moving to instruct the rest of the knights. Arthur watched as Mordred jumped from the front and began detaching the horses from their reigns and saddling them up.
Before he could leave Arthur reached out and grabbed Percival’s arm as he passed, looking up at his knight with painful sense of heartbreak in his eyes. “Did no one truly ask?” he asked lowly.
The answer on Percival’s face was enough as Arthur watched it pinch with painful guilt. “Arthur I-“
“Not now,” Arthur mumbled releasing his knight and fixing his cloak against the cold. “I will bring Merlin home and then we can discuss how this even happened in the first place.”
Percival lowered his head in a deferent nod and increased the ferocity of his calls to the men to clear the way, their King was coming through.
Arthur and Gwaine saddled up, their combined aches and pains forgotten, and rode hard, back the way they had come.
*
The way was silent between the two men, each riding hard through the green landscapes, merging into white ice lands before long. They were forced to slow then, taking their steeds at a fast trot. Arthur hated the slackening of pace, it gave him much too much time to think.
In times like these, when his own mind was too much, too crowded and loud, he would call out to Merlin, perhaps with a barb or an insult, or merely a question, and the servant would pounce upon it gladly.
But now Merlin was… well he refused to think that Merlin was anything other than waiting impatiently at the gates of Ismere with an annoyed frown and pout on his face for them leaving him behind. He couldn’t entertain any other eventuality.
Shaking himself out of his own head he turned to Gwaine, who was riding silently and stone face beside him. “You’re unusually quiet.”
Arthur saw the muscles in Gwaine jaw clenching before he answered. “I’ve a lot on my mind.”
“Well that’s a new revelation,” Arthur scoffed, trying to funnel all his anger into energy towards retrieving and returning with Merlin. “We are going to have to talk about it you know.”
Gwaine flicked his eyes back to his King briefly before staring forward at the white landscapes around them. “I know.”
“We are going to have to talk about the fact that you all left my servant in enemy castle whilst we all trudged happily back to Camelot. We are going to have to talk about men, who claim to be his friend-“
“Gods, I know Arthur!” Gwaine roared. Arthur blinked in shock at his knight. He was breathing heavily his eyes wide and guilty, coated in a film of tears. “I know. I don’t even know-“ Gwaine shook himself before starting again. “We got you from that Mordred guy and just started making our way out of the tunnels. We got clothes and food and packed up the horses and… I never looked to see if he was there. He’s always there…”
“We have very clear procedures when leaving an enemy territory Gwaine. I need to trust that if I am incapacitated that you will follow them.”
“I know sire.” Gwaine hung his head.
“It’s not the time for this now,” Arthur dismissed. “But when we all return to Camelot you will accept whatever punishments I see fit.”
“Of course.”
Up ahead Arthur saw a tip of grey emerging from the snow. The fortress at Ismere. “Come on.” He urged his horse faster. “You get to listen to Merlin’s complain all the way home.”
“Gladly sire.” Gwaine pushed his horse forward, his eyes also glued on their destination ahead.
*
The castle of Ismere was bathed in an eerie silence as their horse’s hooves clattered against the stone courtyard. Arthur fretfully glanced all around, searching for a scowling face, indignant retorts at his dismal on the tip of his tongue. But there was nothing. No sound. Only the huffing breaths of their tired steeds.
Arthur swallowed down the dread threatening to come up his throat. “He must be waiting in the caves,” he called to Gwaine. “Warmer in there.”
Gwaine caught his eyes. The knight’s face pinched with dismay, but he nodded and threw his leg over his mount jumping neatly to the floor. Arthur followed more gingerly, wincing when his injured leg jarred. Gwaine glanced at him worriedly but the glare Arthur sent him was enough for the knight to hold his tongue.
Arthur took a deep breath, picked up a torch and entered the tunnels.
*
“Which way did we come out?” Arthur asked when they reached a fork. Gwaine pointed shaky hand down the left fork and they continued, their footsteps echoing around the empty caves.
“Merlin!” Arthur called, hearing his voice repeat and bounce down the tunnels.
“Merlin!” Gwaine copied frantically.
They received no response.
After a few more twists and turns they had still found no form of life in the tunnels and no Merlin. Their paces were getting more hurried, Gwaine leading the way, his eyes and torch light glued to the floor.
“How do you know where we are going?” Arthur panted, trying to keep up with Gwaine’s pace.
“Following your blood trail.” Gwaine pointed at the blotches of brown dotted in a line on the stone. “The splashes are getting larger – we’re getting closer to where we found you.”
With a renewed burst of energy Arthur grabbed the torch from Gwaine’s hand and surged forward down the tunnels. “Merlin?” he called into the darkness hearing Gwaine echo him behind. “Merlin!”
“Merlin!” he called again rounding a corner in the rock. “Mer-“
But he stopped and felt Gwaine collide with his back. Sticking out from behind the rock ahead was a boot, a very familiar and very still boot.
“Merlin?” Gwaine whispered against the back of Arthur’s neck, disbelief in his tone.
But the sight seemed to have frozen Arthur where he stood. Just that image was wrong enough in itself. Merlin’s boots were never still, they were always moving, pacing, shifting. Never still, and never lain haphazardly against the rough stone flooring of an abandoned cave.
Arthur stumbled as Gwaine pushed passed him, running forward and sliding to his knees out of sight. Arthur waited, for Gwaine’s sound of horror, for his cry of sorrow.
But instead Arthur watched in amazement as the boot moved and Gwaine called out to him. “Arthur!”
Arthur’s feet were moving before he could blink.
Merlin was certainly laid out on the rough stone floor. But his head was intact, save for a splendid bruise by his temple. His chest was moving, up and down, and his eyes were stirring under his lashes.
“What…“ Arthur whispered coming down hard beside Merlin’s prone form as Gwaine tucked his own cloak around the boys figure. “He’s alive?”
“Got a good old bump to the head though,” Gwaine muttered running his fingers through the brunette’s locks. He must have reached the point of contact because Merlin’s head twitched away from the touch with a grimace and Gwaine winced in sympathy. “He’s gonna have a banging headache when he wakes up.”
Arthur covered his relieved and manic laugh behind his hand and sat and breathed for a moment, just letting the breaths finally soak into his lungs for what felt like the first time in hours. “Alright,” he muttered eventually. “Let’s get him up and moving. He’s been still and cold for too long. Merlin?” Arthur called poking at the man’s shoulder.
“Merlin mate, time to get up,” Gwaine said giving Merlin’s shoulder a shake. Arthur watched on as Merlin shifted more, trying to move away from the annoying shove. He was getting impatient now.
“Merlin get up, you lazy sod!” Arthur barked.
And finally, finally Merlin’s eyes peeled open heavily, revealing a slither of blue. “What?” Merlin mumbled intelligently. “Arthur?”
“Yes Merlin, it’s me,” Arthur said, forcing impatience into his tone. “And I’ve had to put on my own cloak and saddle my own horse whilst you’ve been napping, now get up.”
Arthur and Gwaine didn’t give Merlin time to argue as they both grabbed an armpit and pulled. Merlin swayed like a sapling between them, but they held on tight. Gwaine tucked his cloak around the boy’s shivering shoulders and they slowly started shuffling along, out of the blood-filled chamber.
*
By the time the trio had made it to the mouth of the caves Merlin was basically a dead weight between the two.
"Alright," Arthur grunted. "We'll camp here for tonight."
Very gently they lowered Merlin to the floor, arranging his limbs comfortably against the wall before standing. Arthur sighed as he watched his manservant, his face tight with discomfort.
"He's still too cold," he mumbled crouching down to tuck Gwaine’s cloak in tighter around Merlin’s shoulders. "We'll need a fire."
"I'll get the wood," Gwaine offered quickly, dashing off in search of something tangible he could do for his friend. Arthur watched the knight’s back leave but sighed, deciding that he would deal with the man's guilt later.
"Budge up then," Arthur mumbled to an unconscious Merlin, moving his limbs this way and that, until he was safely tucked beside Merlin, his large arm surrounding the boy's narrow shoulders. "No wonder you're freezing," he continued to mumble to the unconscious man. "You're skin and bone."
Absently his hand started rubbing up and down Merlin's arm, trying to will some decent warmth into the flesh.
"My father would be impressed," Arthur said. "You've finally managed to master the good servant's trick of being invisible."
Arthur snorted, but it felt heavy and wooden echoing in the space around him. He sighed, letting his and Merlin's bodies lean together fully, resting his head lightly against the servants. "They are sorry you know," he whispered. "They will be beating themselves up about this more than I ever could, not to say I won't try."
"Sh't up Arth'r," Merlin mumbled beneath Arthur's head. Arthur startled so quickly Merlin's head lost its safe perch against Arthur's shoulder and jerked back casing a flash of a grimace across the man's face. Wincing in sympathy Arthur gently led the man back to lean against him. "W's tryin' t' sleep."
"I think you've done enough sleeping today, don't you?" Arthur quipped, his actions bellying his words as he tried to loosen his shoulder as a better rest for Merlin's head.
"Wh'r's Morg'na?" Merlin mumbled, head lolled against Arthur shoulder.
"Morgana?" Arthur asked incredulously.
"The b'dy."
Arthur thought back to the chamber. He hadn't thought to ask how they had escaped Morgana's clutches… again. At first the safety of his men had placated him and then the disappearance of his Manservant worried him, and then he had never thought to ask.
"There was no body in the chamber Merlin."
"Great," Merlin huffed, his head finally dropping and his eyes falling shut into badly needed sleep.
Gwaine returned with firewood a moment later and began wordlessly building the fire before them.
*
Arthur and Gwaine were already up and moving before Merlin even stirred in the morning. Arthur witnessed Gwaine touching the servant at every opportunity he could, presumably checking the boy hadn't perished in his sleep. But Merlin just slept on oblivious to the worry he caused, snoring lightly in his cocoon of cloaks.
When the morning wore on and they couldn't possibly delay their return any longer Arthur reluctantly approached the sleeping man, gently rousing him by the shoulder.
"Merlin," he called.
The servant snuffled then blinked, his eyes squinting against the early morning sun. "Arthur?"
"We've got to start moving, do you think you can stand?"
"Yeah, yeah. I got it," Merlin mumbled, bracing himself on the stone wall and stumbling upright. Gwaine darted forward but didn't touch, just hovering to the side in case Merlin should need him. Arthur, too, watched carefully ready to catch him if he should stumble but Merlin seemed alright, he blinked a little at his new change in position but seemed to get steady feet beneath him.
Then the servant frowned and looked around the courtyard they were in looking back and forth from wall to wall, eyeing the two horses saddled to go in the centre.
“Where is everyone?"
*
"Where is everyone?"
Merlin glanced around the empty cobbles. No meandering knights, no waiting horses of carts, not even packs that needed to be packed.
"They're back in Camelot," Arthur replied gruffly saddling up his horse without glancing back at Merlin.
Merlin frowned and looked around again, and then blinked his banging head up at the sun. "Already?"
"Yes," Arthur spoke shortly, still not looking at Merlin.
Now Merlin started to worry. Had something happened to the knights? Had Morgana or the Saxons gotten to them? Merlin took a few quick stumbling steps over until Arthur had to grab him by the elbows to steady him.
"Is everyone alright Arthur?" the servant asked. "Did we get everyone out?"
"Yeah Merlin," Gwaine interrupted helping Merlin over to a waiting horse. "Everyone's alright. Nothing a good rest can't fix."
"Oh," Merlin sighed in relief. "OK. That's good.”
"Yes it's fantastic," Arthur growled yanking at his horse straps roughly. Merlin frowned at the King before allowing Gwaine to assist his still tired body to sit behind him on the horse.
It wasn't until they were quite a distance from the castle, their journey being slow and quiet that Merlin blinked in realisation. He blamed his recent head wound and the lack of food in his stomach for the delay but when it did dawn on him he failed to be surprised.
"Oh," he murmured. "You left me there."
It was not a question, it was a statement. It was the only thing that fit. And by the further clenching at the King's jaw and the tensing of Gwaine's body in front of him he knew he was right.
"You left me," Merlin continued frowning, "in the tunnels of a foreign castle whilst you went home. You left me injured, I had a head wound!"
Gwaine tried twisting in his saddle to look at Merlin but the angle wasn't very good. "Merlin we're sorry. We are I-"
"Yes go on Gwaine," Arthur murmured dangerously form where he rode ahead. "Tell him how very sorry you are. I'm sure that will help."
Gwaine tried to twist more, probably to do exactly that, but Merlin stared resolutely in the opposite direction, suddenly very tired. "No, I don't… Let's just get back to Camelot. I'm tired."
Merlin felt Gwaine hesitate for a moment before he nodded and turned forward, spurring their horse onwards at a faster pace.
When they pulled next to Arthur the King caught Merlin's eye. There was something undefinable in Arthur's gaze as he looked back to his servant, but Merlin was too tired to decipher it. He allowed his body to relax as much as he could have perched on a horse and willed the miles away.
*
Merlin disappeared into the castle the moment Gwaine's horse came to a stop in the courtyard. He felt everyone's gaze on his back as he bid his hasty retreat but he couldn't bring himself to care too much.
When he got to his chambers it was blessedly empty, not that he didn't want to see Gaius but… Merlin sighed and sank onto his small wooden bed, feeling each turn of rope beneath his thin mattress.
His head still spun, making him feel nauseous and weak. He didn't want to think about the caves, about Mordred about the knights or Arthur or what the Dismir had told him. Instead he closed his eyes and let his body drift off easily into the sleep it so desperately craved.
*
Percival stopped, paused and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes briefly he gritted his jaw and knocked on the old wooden door before him. From within there was a murmur of entrance and Percival pushed through the door revealing the cluttered Physician’s chambers.
He couldn't help the slight uptick to his lips when he saw Merlin, awake and mostly in one piece if a little pale. The servant glanced up on his entry and any relief at the man's successful rescue and recovery fled Percival's face at the bland look he received from the normally kind servant.
"Merlin," Percival murmured taking an aborted step forward. Merlin didn't raise his head from the book he was reading on the table before him. "Merlin, I am glad you are OK. You are Ok right?"
"A headache but I'll live," Merlin murmured, turning the page of the book.
"Good, that's…" Percival sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, we all are. We should have thought-"
"Stop Percival," the servant raised a hand and the knight immediately shut his mouth. "I… I understand, and I forgive you. Only if you will forgive me too."
"Merlin what-"
Merlin interrupted the knight again, his head held eye and a determined glint to his eyes. "You need to grant some forgiveness as well. On route to rescue you I tried to convince Arthur to turn back. It was too dangerous, and Morgana is too powerful for Arthur to take on unprotected."
"Merlin," Percival sighed. "That's completely different."
"How so? I was trying to protect our King just as you were you were, just a tad more successful than me." The servant finished ruefully, a shadow of his signature grin crossing his face. Percival suddenly felt his heart unclench from guilt.
"Still… I feel- we all feel bad."
"We were protecting Arthur, that's all we can really do isn't it?"
"Well," Percival smiled backing away to the door. "I'm glad… Could you maybe repeat this to Gwaine? Cause he's been extra surely ever since-"
"Send him by, I'll be sure to repeat myself," Merlin grinned in response. The duo exchange smiles before Percival bowed backwards out the door. Behind it's wooden block Percival exhaled a sigh in relief that things would be going back to normal.
*
Merlin waited until Percival had closed the door behind him before allowing his body to fall back down to its tired slump. He raised a still shaking hand to rub and his dirty face trying to pull himself together.
Logically he knew everything he had just said was true, he knew the Knights were doing their duty to protect Arthur and Merlin wouldn't want them to do any differently, he knew he had tried to do the same thing on the way to Ismere but… his heart still ached and clenched with sadness, loneliness and strangest of all betrayal.
Merlin let out a small huff of unamused laughter at his own conflicted emotions but really, there was no time for any of it. Mordred was back and, judging by that vision he had received, it wasn't good news for anyone.
He didn't need any added scrutiny by overprotective guilty knights right now; he needed the anonymity and invisibility of a discarded servant. So, he took a deep breath he pushed his tired legs from his perch and ignored the throbbing in his skull.
He had a job to do.