Work Text:
“Damn you, Arthur!” Gwaine growled as he hacked away at the thick brush with his sword, sweat causing his hair to cling to his neck and his forehead.
“Careful, that’s our king you’re talking about,” Percival said drily behind him.
Gwaine only bristled at the reminder. “Maybe he shouldn’t be our king if he’s going to be so stupid!” He shouted as though Arthur would hear him, despite it being impossible as Arthur was miles away by now. “If he had just listened to reason, we wouldn’t be here right now. We told him it was a trap. Everyone told him it was a trap, but no. No, he had to be a great, all-knowing prat and do things his way!” He ranted, angrily slicing through the bracken.
“That’s my word.” A soft voice murmured, effectively silencing Gwaine’s outburst as the knight whirled around to check on its source.
His heart sank as his eyes lighted on Merlin’s form, his injured friend looking no better than he had five minutes ago. If anything, he looked worse. His complexion was pale, a clammy sheen clinging to his skin, and his body was limp in Percival’s hold, the red stain on his clothing having spread to further darken the fabric. His eyes were still closed.
Gwaine swallowed around a lump in his throat as he stepped closer. “Yeah? Well, it suits him. I see why you use it all the time.” His heart rate sped up when there was no response to his words, the fear that had been rippling through him gathering in his stomach where it sat like a rock. “Merlin?”
Dusty blue eyes cracked open, clouded with pain as he stared up at Gwaine. “M’still here.” He whispered, eyes closing once more, the poor boy too tired and weak from blood loss.
The knight nodded, his shoulders easing some. “Good, because Arthur will get his drawers in a twist if we don’t bring you back alive.”
Merlin gave a weak huff of disbelief before whimpering softly, his brow knit with pain.
“We should find a spot for the night,” Percival said, voice quiet so as not to alarm the injured man. “His bandages need changing again.”
Gwaine nodded, noting that it was past sunset, and the light wouldn’t last much longer. “Yeah, we’re sure to come across a clearing soon.”
A soft mumble from Merlin had them both looking down at him. “What was that, Merlin?” Gwaine asked, leaning a bit closer.
Merlin inhaled shakily, seeming to gather his strength to speak louder. “Clearing. Mile south.”
Gwaine frowned slightly, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know…” He started to ask before just shaking his head. He trusted Merlin enough to believe him, even in the weakened state he was in now.
He checked their position before hacking away at a few low hanging branches. “A mile south it is.”
*************************
The world was dark as they reached the clearing, only the bright light of the moon reflecting down on them guided their steps. Percival found a soft patch and laid Merlin down, using Gwaine’s cape to protect him from the dew gathering on the grass.
“I’ll make a fire,” Gwaine said, making quick work of gathering sticks and twigs, coaxing a flame to life. He glanced over at the others once the light was enough to see by. He shifted over to crouch next to Merlin, averting his eyes as Percival lifted his shirt to check the bandages, not wanting to see the torn flesh that was Merlin’s stomach.
Merlin made a soft noise of pain as Percival gently tore the dirtied bandages away, eyes fluttering open.
Gwaine grinned down at him, his hand moving to brush through Merlin’s hair in a comforting gesture. “You hanging in there, mate?”
The young servant made a confused noise as his head rolled to Gwaine’s direction, his eyes trailing over him, but never focusing. “...No?” He closed his eyes, his breathing too shallow and fast. “What’s going on?” He asked, struggling to open his eyes again.
Percival frowned as he glanced over at him, knowing that confusion was a sign he was getting worse. He grabbed one of the water skins and passed it to Gwaine before moving to tear his shirt into more bandages, binding his stomach up as best he could, saying a silent apology every time Merlin whimpered or gasped from the pain.
Tears trickled down Merlin’s face as Percival finally finished, the poor confused man unable to grasp what was going on.
Gwaine helped him sit up a little, shushing his confused mumbling gently. “Easy, mate. Have some water, and then you can sleep.” He said quietly, patiently helping Merlin get some water into his system before settling him back down.
Percival laid his own cape over Merlin to keep him warm, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, Merlin.”
The young warlock managed to lock his gaze on Percival’s eyes for just a moment before he slid back under, a soft breath leaving him as he fell asleep.
*************************
It was late, past midnight, dark and silent as though even the woods themselves knew something was wrong. The dead air made it easy to identify the low whimper from Merlin on the other side of the fire.
Gwaine walked over from his spot standing guard, kneeling next to Merlin and laying a hand on his forehead, hissing at the heat that met his palm. “Dear God, Merlin. You’re burning up.”
He spared a little water to dribble it on a cloth, running the damp rag over Merlin’s heated skin. “Easy, mate.” He murmured as Merlin started to mumble.
His words only grew increasingly loud and nonsensical. Percival woke as Merlin was rambling about eggs and sunlight of all things. The gentle giant knelt on the other side of Merlin. “Fever?”
Gwaine nodded grimly. “And a high one at that.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Arthur’s going to have our heads if he dies.” He said, trying to lighten the situation, but only succeeding in making the situation more oppressive.
Merlin whimpered softly, seeming to latch onto the knight’s words. “No… Arthur…” He shook his head from side to side so hard that Percival winced in sympathy for his neck. “Spare me. Please, Arthur! I don’t want to die!” He cried out, voice cracking.
Gwaine and Percival exchanged confused glances as Merlin begged Arthur to spare his life, his face twisted in anguish as he asked for leniency. He slowly calmed as Gwaine reassured him he was going to be alright, a small knot of dread curling in his stomach.
“I’ll get some wood for the fire,” Percival said, noting that the flame was burning low.
Merlin screamed suddenly, arms flailing as he fought an imaginary man off. “No! Arthur, please!” He shouted, sobbing as he writhed on the ground. “Please, Arthur. Not the pyre. Anything but that.” He cried, chest heaving as he panicked.
Gwaine inhaled sharply. “Merlin, mate, if you’re about to do what I think… Don’t. Arthur’s not going to kill you.” He told him, pleading with him to calm down before things escalated any further.
But Merlin was too far gone, his eyes now open but unseeing as he sat up and thrust his hands out, eyes glowing a brilliant gold.
The two knights flew through the air, landing several yards away, a startled shout leaving Percival’s mouth.
Gwaine was quick to sit up, watching as Merlin gripped his stomach tightly, pain written on his face as his eyes darted around, glassy and unfocused. “Merlin, mate?” Gwaine called softly.
Merlin startled, his magic flaring. The campfire suddenly exploded, the flames leaping into the sky and casting light over the clearing as if it was daytime. Merlin breathed heavily, moving to stand up. He was backing away from the fire, his gaze fixated firmly on the dancing blaze. “No. I can’t. Not like this, please.” He whispered, tears streaming down his face.
He tripped over an uneven lump of grass, his magic reacting to keep him from falling, the warlock floating just slightly off the ground. “I don’t want to burn.” He whimpered, the terror on his face the only warning before his eyes flared gold again.
Thunder roared overhead, Gwaine looking up sharply as he watched dark clouds converge on the clear night sky, blocking the moon entirely. A strong wind stirred, whipping past Gwaine, blowing his hair back as he watched rain start to fall, drizzling lightly at first before abruptly becoming a downpour.
The fire slowly died out under the onslaught, leaving Gwaine squinting to see through the dark, catching only glimpses of Merlin as lightning darted across the sky, the resounding cracks echoing through the clearing.
“Merlin!” Gwaine called out, losing sight of him as the wind grew more violent, trees groaning overhead, branches creaking and snapping as debris flew around the campsite. “Merlin, you have to stop!”
Slowly, as if in response to Gwaine’s words, the wind abated, the rain letting up before it stopped completely, clouds dispersing to let the moonlight shine down on them once more.
Merlin was standing on his own feet again, looking around in confusion as he stumbled forward, his eyes still glowing. “Gwaine?”
He managed a few more steps before collapsing, just as Gwaine caught him, his eyes rolling back as he fainted. The knight just held him for a minute before moving to lay him down, frowning at the marshy state of the ground, but knowing there was nothing for it after the intense storm he’d just witnessed.
“God, Merlin.” He whispered, wiping the water from his face as best he could. A sound behind him had Gwaine on his feet in a split second, his sword held at the ready as he whirled around on Percival.
The larger man raised his hands, showing he hadn’t drawn his sword. “You knew?” He asked, voice quiet, but neutral, making it hard for Gwaine to categorize him as a threat or an ally.
He narrowed his eyes at him, answering carefully. “I suspected. Never knew for sure.” He told him truthfully.
Percival nodded slowly, letting his hands drop to his sides. “I had a feeling after the Durocha.”
Gwaine frowned softly, lowering his sword a little. “Why didn’t you say anything to Arthur?”
The other man shrugged. “There was no evidence for sure, and I didn’t believe Merlin could ever be a threat to Arthur.”
“And now that you’ve witnessed what he can do?” Gwaine asked, a hard edge to his voice as he lifted the sword once more, refusing to let himself be caught unaware.
Percival shook his head. “I have no intention of telling Arthur about Merlin’s talents.” He assured him. “I wasn’t raised in Camelot. Outside her borders, I’ve met many users of magic. Those who use it for both good and bad. I don’t believe magic to be inherently evil.”
Gwaine considered his words for a minute before sheathing his sword. “Glad we agree on that then.” He said, giving Percival an easy grin, though an underlying threat of ‘look at Merlin wrong, and you’ll have a sword through your chest quicker than you can blink’ rang loud and clear in his voice.
The man nodded in acknowledgment before they both moved to sit down, grimacing at the soggy earth before resolutely ignoring it.
“Why didn’t you ever tell Arthur?” Percival asked, watching as Gwaine tested Merlin’s temperature.
Gwaine relaxed a little as he found the fever had lessened, likely a result from the cold shower. “My allegiance has always been first and foremost to Merlin.” He murmured, watching the steady rise and fall of Merlin’s chest. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. The first, really.”
Percival nodded, completely understanding as his allegiance had always been to Lancelot before his death. He watched Gwaine for a moment longer before clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see if I can scrape up some dry wood for a fire. We leave at dawn for Camelot.”
Gwaine nodded silently, turning his attention back to the sleeping man next to him. “I promise, Merlin. Even if it costs my life, I will never let you burn.” He murmured, squeezing his arm. “I swore my loyalty to you long before I gave it to Arthur.”
“Nothing will ever change that.”