Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arthur Pendragon looked at the archway of trees that bordered the farmland he was riding through on patrol. He knew those trees. It was amazing how new revelations changed everything. The Prince of Camelot held up a hand to bring the small group of knights he had with him to a stop. 

“I will be a moment,” Arthur said, making a spur of the moment decision. “Do not follow me.” 

He needed to be alone for this. The men looked at each other uneasily, and Arthur did not wait to see if they would question his order. He dismounted and walked into the forest. The revelation of Merlin’s magic in that cabin in the snow had changed the way Arthur looked at many things—and this? This was one of them. 

He could still remember his teenage self, desperate for his father’s approval, being ordered to lead a group of men to kill a band of evil sorcerer-assassins nearby. He could remember how proud he was when he came back to his father with their blood on his hands. But if magic was not evil, those nine he had killed took on a vastly different light. They were no longer dangerous assassins. They were possible innocents, practicing self-defense against a vicious attacker—himself.

The forest grew dark and shadowed around him as he moved deeper, following the path that was carved into his mind. He needed to do the right thing. He needed to bury the bodies… or what was left of them. Bones. Likely bones after this long. Sorcerers were not permitted marked graves, but Arthur would break that law. It was wrong.

He found the ruins of the camp in a clearing. There was not much left of it after several years. Trees marked with arrows, the chainmail of a fallen knight, and a few rotting baskets. The cave looked better preserved—or at least the entrance did—but Arthur did not need to go in there. He remembered the attack vividly. None had fallen in the cave. 

Arthur gathered up the bones he could find—fewer than he expected—and buried them. A cairn of rocks followed in short order. He was debating finding a way to carve something when the female voice rang out: “You.”

Arthur turned to see what appeared to be a beautiful yet eerie woman near the entrance to the cave. Flowing, almost floating, white hair contrasted sharply with her long, ethereal, black gown. 

Then, Arthur realized she was not a normal woman at all. His second glance revealed her long tufted tail tail, Horse ears, and horns. Dread filled him and he stood quickly, His hand flew to his sword. Arthur's experience with magical creatures was that they tended to atack. Or was she a scoreress with illusioned features?

The woman’s gold eyes flashed in anger. “You will try to kill me too, Pendragon?”

Arthur’s hand paused by his belt, and watched her with cool blue eyes. She knew what had happened here then. “No,” he told her, “not unless you attack first…” He paused before asking, “What are you?”

“Call me Pwca,” she told him. “And that was not the way you did things when you took nine lives here that day. Nine lives of those I served, who cared for me as I did them.” Her eyes were angry now, full of judgment and rage.

“I’m sorry,” was all Arthur could say. “I’m so sorry. I know better now. I know that magic is not evil and they might have been innocent. I came here to bury who I could. I know it is not enough. You have my word, when I become king, things like this will stop happening. And I try to stop them as best I can now”

“That's not good enough!” the woman snapped. Her anger seeming to make the forest darker somehow.

Arthur watched her with sad eyes. “I know,” he murmured.

She pointed at him, reaching out a hand, a single claw-like nail jabbed in his direction. “I curse you, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur, for a single moment, debated just taking the curse. Then, he moved forward, holding his sword; a curse could be anything. 

“Nine times I will align circumstances to kill the one you love best, as you killed the ones I love! I will be subtle, but effective. Nine times for the nine lives you took. Should they survive them all, I will admit defeat. But know this: I have never lost one of my games, and you will never be able to speak to others of what transpired here!”

The words came out almost unnaturally quick, but Arthur could understand all of them, and worse, what they meant. “You can’t!” Arthur gasped, “he never!” He ran forward with his sword, desperate to end this, because he knew exactly who the curse would target. Merlin…

“The curse is cast,” the woman’s words echoed through the clearing as she vanished.

Arthur was left standing alone in the clearing. Chest heaving, forced to face the terrible cost of what he had done. And worst of all, that he would not be the one to pay it.

Arthur had acted strangely before, Merlin knew, but this time took the cake. The moment Arthur arrived home from his patrol, he screamed for Merlin. Unusually, that took at least a minute or so. Merlin met him by the stables, ready to take care of his horse, and saw Arthur had not even bothered to dismount before shouting Merlin’s name.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Merlin snapped. “You know you can wait a few minutes before shouting my name repeatedly, I actually do have to move though the castle to get you or—”

He broke off as Arthur dismounted and grabbed the arm of Merlin’s coat. Though Arthur tried to drag him away, Merlin resisted. “I need to take care of the horse! She doesn't deserve to stay in her saddle just because you are too eager for a bath or something!”

Arthur did not even argue. Instead, he looked around the stable as if expecting an attack. Merlin carefully removed the saddle and rubbed down the horse in question. No sooner had Merlin put the tools away than Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm again, and practically dragged him up to his bedroom.

Normally, Merlin would have made a joke about Arthur being over-eager, but Arthur was not acting like Arthur. And Merlin was getting a bit frightened.

The moment the door closed behind them, Merlin asked him the question that had been on his mind since he saw those wide blue eyes. “What happened?”

Arthur let go of Merlin's coat and opened and closed his mouth a few times. The prince ran to his desk, pulled out a quill and paused, frozen hand just over a piece of parchment. Finally, Arthur slumped in his chair.

“Come on,” Merlin urged, moving forward to lean on the desk. “You can tell me.”

Arthur just shook his head. “No… I can't. I can't tell you! I can’t tell you anything!”

Merlin felt a flash of disappointment and annoyance that Arthur was clearly so frantic about something he had thought of on the ride, but unwilling to tell Merlin.

“If there is nothing else you need sire?” he began crossly.

“Actually there is,” Arthur looked up at him from the chair. “There are many things I need. In fact, you may have to spend the night here.” 

“Right, because that won’t make your father more suspicious,” Merlin replied with a scoff. “You know we can’t do that.”

The pained look on Arthur's face made Merlin instinctively take a few steps closer to him. His voice was softer as he spoke, “We agreed, remember? You know what he will do if he thinks we are together.”

Arthur stood up with the same look on his face he always had when coming up with tactics for a fight. He spread his arms so Merlin could remove his armor and chainmail, like usual, but said nothing. Instead, he clenched his fists so hard Merlin could see the white of his knuckles. 

The moment Merlin was done and had set  the armor aside, Arthur whirled around and wrapped his arms around Merlin from behind. One hand went to Merlin’s hair, stroking it. The other pulled Merlin into the tightest hug he had ever been in. Merlin let out a half laugh, half cry. “Ow I can’t breathe, Arthur!”

Immediately, Arthur whirled Merlin around to face himself. His eyes were huge and his breathing fast for a moment. Then, it evened out and he hugged Merlin more gently.

“Are you alright?” Merlin stared at him. “Arthur what happened?”

“I can't tell you… I can’t...” Arthur broke off, his voice low and pained. “I need you to do some chores for me. In here… Polish my armor, clean my…. Actually leave my sword. Then, make the bed and sweep the floor.”

Merlin felt another surge of disappointment at just being pushed away again. Something had happened to Arthur on that trip—-something that was making him act like this—-but he would not tell. So Merlin would have to find other ways of learning what had happened.

Arthur worked him to the bone in his rooms that day, coming up with ridiculous task after ridiculous task. Merlin half suspected he was trying to exhaust him to the point where he would have to stay in Arthur’s rooms. Surely even Arthur was not that reckless, though. Perhaps someone had put some sort of gag spell on Arthur, so he couldn’t tell Merlin what was going on? The idea occurred to Merlin as he used a tiny brush to clean a stuffed animal head he had not even known Arthur owned. Merlin had never heard of a sorcerer having that kind of magic, but he made a note to ask Gaius later. 

Later came far, far too late for Merlin's taste. He stumbled back into Gaius’s rooms that night and tried to keep his exhausted eyes open. Merlin then slumped into the chair near one of the bookshelves. “Gaius? Are there spells a sorcerer can cast that make someone not be able to talk about something?” 

Guius looked up from grinding herbs and frowned thoughtfully. “The High Priestesses of the old religion used to have a spell to make someone keep secrets. However, they grew more secretive, instead, after a disaster in which one sorcerer came up with a counterspell for their magic. I know I might regret asking this, Merlin, but why do you ask?”

Merlin leaned back in his chair. “I think Arthur might be enchanted,” Merlin admitted, dragging himself over to the table Gaius worked at.

“Well, you can find the counter spell in the scrolls of Silentium.” Gaius set down his mortar and moved to a shelf to pull down a very old looking scroll. Merlin grabbed it eagerly. “Thank you!”

The next day, Merlin tried the spell on Arthur with no change to Arthur’s behavior. No sorcerer had cast a spell on him to make him like this. But something was going on. Merlin knew something was going on. 

The day after that, Arthur seemed to realize he could not shirk his duties and just keep Merlin in his rooms. Instead, he took Merlin with him everywhere—-even more than normal. He also kept panicking if Merlin so much as tripped. Oh, Arthur tried to hide it from everyone else, but there was only so much racing to Merlin’s side that people could fail to notice. This was going to give away their secret if it continued... What had happened on that patrol!? 

Eventually, Merlin managed to slip away from Arthur to ask the knights who had ridden out with him. Of course, they told him nothing. When he came back, Arthur started yelling about him vanishing. Merlin mostly tuned it out as he did his chores.

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, MERLIN!?” Arthur bellowed from somewhere behind him.

Merlin turned around and looked at Arthur with a cheeky grin. “No.”

He was rewarded with the sight of the strong mix of anger and adoration in his prince's gaze. Arthur marched up to him, taking his face in his hand. “I could make you listen.”

Merlin laughed. “Try.”

They had sex on the bed after that.

The day after, Merlin was almost ready to go to the area of the patrol himself, to see what he could find. In fact, he was planning his getaway when Arthur started asking questions. 

“You said Gaius once said he thinks you will be the most powerful sorcerer that ever was…” Arthur began

Merlin whipped a rag over Arthur’s desk. “That's what he thinks, yes. I’m unique.”

“How does being unique affect magic used against you?”

Merlin paused in his polishing as realization dawned. Arthur must have come across someone on the ride who threatened to use magic against him! Though, that still did not explain why Arthur would not just tell him what had happened. “Certain killing magics don’t work against me, but almost everything else does.” Merlin watched Arthur’s face, noting the utter relief that crossed it.

Someone had definitely threatened to use magic against him during that patrol, and Arthur couldn't tell him because…. Merlin had not figured that part out yet. He had to figure that part out.

Things almost went back to normal after that.

And, of course, as if to remind Merlin more that things were normal again, he even accidentally discovered the biweekly plot on Arthur's life while sneaking down to the kitchens to steal a pastry.

Arthur was finally able to let Merlin out of his sight without panicking. The witch had not anticipated Merlin’s magic. Merlin would be fine.

Sometimes, he wondered if he just willed himself to believe that because his mind was so exhausted from panic. Such thoughts were mostly suppressed, coming to him just as he fell asleep and forgotten during the day.

Arthur had just returned to his room one morning after training when Morgana entered behind him through the door.

“Don’t bother knocking,'' Arthur told her dryly.

“I’m taking Gwen away for a few days,” Morgana told him. “Somewhere where we can just be together without fear. I need you to tell your father that we’re going to visit my father’s grave and that you forgot to tell him. This might happen from time to time.”

Arthur stared at her. “Don’t you remember the last time you tried going to your father’s grave?”

“This won’t be like last time,” Morgana insisted, walking up to him with a hand on her hips. “I can protect us now. Besides I’m not asking for a favor, we’re making a deal.”

Arthur sat down at his desk. “What deal are we making?”

“That if you cover for me this time, I’ll find a way to convince Uther next time you and Merlin need something.” Morgana told him smoothly.

Arthur considered this for a moment before deciding his response. He actually liked this idea. “Agreed.”

Telling his father went about as well as one could expect. Uther scolded Arthur for quite a while  for his forgetfulness, and reminded him that a king had to remember things. Forgetfulness, after all, could get him killed. Arthur was used to scoldings, and it hurt a bit less this time because he had not actually made the mistake he was being scolded for. Uther, as usual, accepted what Morgana had done readily. Everything would be fine, Arthur thought. 

He was wrong. Though not about Morgana and Gwen’s vacation. Arthur found the folded note on his desk when he came back to his rooms.

Arthur, Sir Amadan wants to kill you by slipping a drug into your wine, with the new sleight of hand moves he learned, and then challenge you to a duel. Apparently, he's furious his sister could not tempt you and has sworn a vow to cause your death. Just like, apparently, half the population of Albion. So, just not drinking won’t work. Going to deal with him. Might be a bit late doing your precious chores. Would apologize for that, but I don’t feel like it.

-Merlin

Normally, such a note would not have alarmed him; Arthur often found little notes like this, ever since they had gotten back from the hunting trip that started their relationship and revealed Merlin’s magic. Merlin usually came back later, or asked Arthur if he needed help covering for anything he did. 

But normally, Merlin did not have a curse on him. Arthur’s white-knuckled fingers gripped the desk. His instincts were screaming at him. Merlin would be fine, surely, he tried to tell himself—his magic shielded him. But his deep-seated fear for Merlin had never entirely gone away. Not truly. Arthur could just check, he told himself. Merlin would be fine, of course, but checking on him couldn’t hurt.

If he took the stairs toward Sir Amadan’s room two at a time, it was not out of fear. Merlin was fine. Merlin was not in danger. Everything was fine. Everything was fine . And yet, he charged onward. 

Arthur threw open the door to the knight's guest room in time to hear the snarl: “...have got him, if not for you.” He took in the scene before him with frantic eyes. Merlin was pinned to the wall by a gauntleted hand, squeezing his throat. He hung limp, his face was blue, his eyes were closed. His head lolled as the knight adjusted his grip slightly.

Arthur didn’t hesitate; he ran Sir Amadan through from behind, jumping aside to avoid the spray of blood in case questions were asked later. 

As the knight died, Arthur rushed forward to catch Merlin in his arms. They couldn’t be found here! Not with the body. Thus—still carrying Merlin—Arthur exited the room, rushed into the hallway and threw open a door to an empty guest room nearby. Once inside, Arthur knelt, holding the man he loved, and shook him lightly. 

“Merlin?”

Merlin’s face was still blue. Arthur couldn’t see his chest rise and fall.

Feeling a roaring panic inside him, Arthur moved a hand over Merlin's mouth and nose to be sure. Nothing. Merlin was not breathing. 

Arthur slapped Merlin's face frantically, while his own breathing came in quick, fearful gasps. “Merlin…” He rubbed the warlock’s still chest, trying to get some reaction. Nothing. “Merlin!” Arthur sat the sorcerer up and slammed a hand into his back, trying to get a response. Still Nothing. Merlin’s limp form just fell forward over his arm. 

Merlin was not breathing. Merlin would not start breathing. It was just like the witch had cursed! 

Gaius! The idea shot through Arthur’s brain like fire—-a sudden burning flame of desperate hope. He would take Merlin to Gaius. But no one could see him carry Merlin as questions would be asked.  Arthur grabbed a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around the man he loved before setting off at a desperate sprint.

“Sire!” Gaius called out as Arthur threw the door open and charged into his rooms. Arthur shoved everything off a table with a sweep of his arm arm and laid the cocooned Sorcerer on top of it.

“HELP HIM, GAIUS!” Arthur yanked the sheet covering Merlin away. “Just help him!”

“Merlin!” Gaius ran forward, hands flying to check Merlin's breathing and pulse. 

“He’s not breathing. Help him, use magic!” Arthur begged. This was all his fault. He should have kept a better watch. He never should have let his guard down . 

Gaius looked at Arthur, wide-eyed, for a moment, and then grabbed some herbs and small bottles. Rushing over to Merlin’s still form, Gaius moved the herbs back and forth over the sorcerer's limp body as he spoke a spell Arthur could not make out the words to. “My magic is not strong, after so many years,” Gaius admitted.

Arthur watched Merlin—hopping, praying. “I don’t care, just HELP HIM!” The bruises on Merlin’s throat had disappeared, but there was no other sign of change.

“I’m trying,” Gaius responded, looking down at the sorcerer. “MY boy, this is all I have… let it be enough.” He poured the contents of one of the bottles down Merlin’s throat and then another.

Arthur stared, barely daring to breathe as Merlin’s chest twitched, lowering slightly as if his lungs were contracting. Then, miraculously, it rose. Merlin took a breath so deep his back arched off the table, and then he took another. Arthur rushed forward as he felt the world come alive again. With one hand, he gently stroked Merlin's cheek as the other ran through his beautiful, black hair.

“You’re alright. You’re alright ,” Arthur whispered, his heart still hammering in his chest. His breath continued to come quickly. This was just the start. This was just the start of the many ways he could lose Merlin. Arthur was not prepared.  

“Gaius… Thank you,” he managed to say, never looking away from his sorcerer. Merlin’s face started to return to its normal color as he continued to breathe. “Thank you, Gaius.” He leaned down to press his lips gently against Merlin’s forehead. “You’re alright.” 

“We should move him to a bed,” Gaius spoke from somewhere behind Arthur, his voice shaking in relief. Arthur nodded and lifted Merlin again, this time more tenderly and less frantically. He lay Merlin on a nearby bed, watching as Merlin's head fell to the side. He had not woken yet—should Arthur be worried about that? 

Arthur smoothed Merlin's hair again, trying to calm his own breathing. “He’s not waking up,” Arthur’s voice cracked.

“Give it a moment. His body has been through a lot,” Gaius told him.

Arthur nodded and tilted Merlin's face upward again. “You’re alright,” he whispered again, “you’re alright. Everything is alright.” Except it wasn’t, and Arthur had no idea how the curse would strike next. 

He watched Merlin, trying not to hyperventilate as he cradled the other man’s cheek. His thumb stroked it gently. “Come on…” Arthur begged, “wake up… You’re alright…” He had to be alright.

Finally, Merlin’s eyes slowly flickered open. The blue that reminded Arthur of a night sky flicked around the room quickly before meeting Arthur’s own eyes and focusing slowly. It was the most beautiful sight Arthur had ever seen. 

It was all he could do not to kiss him right then and there. Let him breathe, he reminded himself. Let him breathe. His thumb continued to stroke Merlin's cheek. He bent forward and kissed his forehead again. Pulling back, he discovered Merlin's eyes still focused on him. 

“Merlin…you can hear me?”  Arthur asked.

Merlin gave a very slight nod, eyes still staring up into Arthur’s. 

“Good, it's about time you woke up from your beauty rest.” It was all Arthur could do to keep his tone even and his voice from cracking as he spoke. 

Merlin’s gaze instantly switched to being utterly incredulous. His eyes practically screamed “you ass”. 

Arthur started to laugh hysterically, and he leaned down, embracing Merlin with both arms. Taking a few deep breaths of his own before pulling back, he sat on the end of Merlin’s bed and pulled the other man close. One hand rubbed up and down Merlin’s back while the other caressed the nape of his neck and the bottom of his black hair. Arthur’s lips pressed over Merlin’s skin wherever he could reach.

Internally, he continued to panic, because this could never happen to Merlin again. And it would if he didn’t do something. An idea struck him, perhaps he could plead with the witch— convince her that her revenge was better if the victim of it was him. 

“Magic wouldn’t work,” Merlin whispered horsley from somewhere near Arthur's ear. “Y…. knew… something… gonna happen?” 

Arthur tried to confirm it, tried to tell him yes, but his mouth would not form the words. He said nothing and continued to stroke the nape of Merlin's neck and hair as he held the other man against himself protectively. 

He could feel Merlin's soft breathing against his neck as Merlin’s head fell on his shoulder. Merlin seemed to have given up on questioning him for now, or perhaps realized Arthur could not say anything. Instead, he had fallen asleep in Arthur’s arms. Arthur lay him back down on the bed tenderly.

He spent most of the night watching Merlin, just to be sure he was alright. As the hour approached dawn, however, Arthur stood up and turned to the physician. “Keep an eye on him, Gaius. I need to go somewhere.” 

Arthur did not see that Merlin’s eyes had opened just before he spoke.

Chapter Text

Most sane people would likely have told Merlin that sneaking out to follow Arthur, despite having nearly died hours before and being exhausted, was not the most sane choice. Those sane people included Gaius, who made his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. Unfortunately for him, however, Merlin had decided to ignore him. 

He HAD to know what was happening to Arthur, what had happened to his magic, and how Arthur knew Merlin was going to be in some horrible situation. That, as far as Merlin was concerned, was that.

He followed Arthur at a discrete distance, using magic to check the path ahead. It was difficult to sneak through the many fields Arthur passed through, but it got much easier as the terrain switched to forest. Arthur seemed to be following a path, but it was a long one mixing with other woodland trials. At least Merlin felt better here. Such places were always energizing. 

They reached a burial cairn near a cave. Arthur paused and opened the makeshift door that blocked the entrance to the cave, and swore before proceeding to follow a set of tracks away from the shelter. After a moment, Merlin followed him like a shadow—always just out of sight and far enough away that Arthur would not hear the many, many times he tripped.  Evening was coming by the time Arthur finally stopped. Breathing heavily, Merlin peaked out from behind a tree and used a spell to hear what was happening in the distance.

“I know you are here, Pwca. I tracked you,” Arthur’s voice called out.

A figure of white and black appeared near Arthur. Merlin tensed. He could feel the magic coming from the figure. It felt more like the magic of an ancient and powerful creature than that of any sorcerer he had ever encountered. From behind a tree, Merlin raised a hand knowing he might not be strong enough to take this beast on himself.

“Why have you come, Pendragon? Only one has been repaid. Eight more are to be repaid before the curse will be removed.”

“I figured you would never remove it. All I ask is that you take a fair price. Make the one cursed with likely-death me instead of Merlin.”

Realization dawned on Merlin as he listened. There was a curse, and Arthur… Arthur was trying to give up his life to pay it instead of letting it target Merlin.

Of course Arthur was trying to do that. And of course, Merlin could not let him. Fine, if the curse was moved to Arthur, it could be moved back to Merlin after Arthur left. In fact, the creature might be eager to do that since Merlin seemed to be the original victim.

“Why should I grant your request?” the pwca asked.

“Because he's more like the ones I killed. I know there is nothing I can do to make things right. I was young, acting on my father’s orders and believed magic was evil at the time, but that is no excuse! Just don’t take it out on him. I am the one at fault here.”

Merlin quickly put together the cairn and the reason for the curse. 

In the distance, the magical being tilted her head to the side. Were those horse ears? 

“I grant you your wish, that harm will fall on you. However, as a cost for making me change my deal, no magic may be used to heal until the one the curse attacks is awake! Leave my sight!”

Arthur actually thanked her before taking off. 

The moment he was out of sight, Merlin walked up to the creature. He could feel her radiating magic, from her white hair to her black feet.

“Turn it back on me. It's my destiny to protect him,” Merlin told her.

The creature blinked large golden eyes at Merlin. “You were the one hiding back there. You are the one he loves the best and seeks to protect.”

“I am,” Merlin told her simply. “Turn it back. His life is worth a thousand of mine.”

“He killed nine!” the creature snapped. 

“He was raised by Uther pendragon and had no reason to question his teachings!” Merlin snapped in return. “He's a good man. Grant me my request in honor of your friends. I am like them. I have magic… Please.” Merlin was prepared to beg, but the magical being watched him with intrigue.

“I cannot remove the curse or my change. The next time, it will target him… But after that, it will move it back to you, if that is what you truly wish. They made a sacrifice to protect me. If you wish to make one to protect his worthless hide, I will not stop you.”

Merlin’s heart sank. “The next one… it will happen to him, but then after that me?”

“That is what I said, little magic user. The cost of changing it is that you will never be able to scream for help. Now, his turn will catch up to him quickly and is already in motion. You might want to hurry.”

Merlin’s eyes grew wide and he whirled, charging off back into the forest in the direction he had seen Arthur disappear in.

He used magic to take in the situation. Arthur was a ways ahead by now, out of earshot. There was also a group of people a bit further in the forest. Merlin adjusted his magic to hear them, picking up snatches of conversation. 

“...failed the assassination on Lady Branwen’s estate. So much for a blow against Camelot. Glad we did not use actual weapons, it was so easy to sneak out! Now If we can find another target…”

Merlin pulled back his magic just enough to confirm Arthur was headed towards the assassins. Merlin now knew what was going to happen. He just had to stop it.

Merlin cast around frantically with his magic for a quick way to get to the inevitable confrontation on time. After a moment, he found it—a serket’s nest. It would get him there on time, easily. Merlin hesitated for only a split second before charging headlong into a nest full of giant, poisonous scorpions.

Relief filled Arthur as he walked through the forest. Alright, he was probably going to die soon—he knew that—but Merlin would no longer be Pwca’s target. Merlin would no longer pay for his mistake. And who knew, perhaps he would get ridiculously lucky and survive the eight times the curse would try to kill him.

Even deep in thought, Arthur's instincts were on alert. So when a man attempted to jump out of seemingly nowhere, he drew his blade and dodged in one smooth movement. Then, he came to a stop because what he had assumed as an attacker seemed to be holding no weapon. Perhaps he was wrong and this was not one of the attempts on his life? 

“Name yourself,” Arthur challenged. “That looked like an attack, but you have no weapon.”

The man smiled at him, showing yellow teeth. “We mistook ya for a bandit. You are Prince Arthur, are you not? I’m a merchant. My name is Samer.” He pushed back some lank, brown hair.

“I am.” Arthur's nerves were still cautious, and he could hear someone coming up behind him. He turned to keep both of them in sight. “And who is this?”

“My daughter, Gida. Glad it’s you, Dunno how we would do against bandits.” Seeing this woman also did not have a weapon, Arthur sheathed his sword. Then, someone he had not heard the steps of looped a cord around his neck from behind, pulling tight. 

Remaining calm as his air was cut off, Arthur grabbed for his dagger and not the sword. He knew the ‘merchants’ would try to grapple the bigger blade from him first. Arthur slammed the dagger backward into the figure choking him. It met flesh and blood in a squelch, and the person behind him fell. Sure enough, his sword was gone now. Two men came for the dagger in his hand, but Arthur kicked them both and opened his mouth to shout—one never knew who was nearby. A cord wrapped around his neck again, cutting off his attempts and his air. There must have been another he had not seen!  

Arthur threw himself to the side, hoping to reach his now fallen sword, only to have the rest of them pile on him, restraining him. He could hear the ‘merchants’ debating, “Why dun we just stab him now with his own weapons?”

“Because we’re trying to be a feared assassin group and assassin groups need a bloody signature right? Garrotes are perfect: they don’t let the victim yell and can be kept hidden.”

Arthur attempted to elbow the man, but the group anticipated that and stopped him. Multiple fists and feet made contact with his skin. He then tried a headbut without success. By then, Arthur was struggling and his lungs were screaming for air. He could tell his attempts to break free were growing weaker in strength. This was it then, he realized. This was how he was going to die. 

That was when Merlin appeared.

The sorcerer charged into sight, followed by many many serkets. What was he doing? He had gone through a nest? Why was he out here? Arthur’s mind tried to think, but it was growing difficult. His legs gave out. 

Through his foggy mind, Arthur saw his sorcerer reach a hand out and his eyes flashing gold. 

Those killing Arthur were thrown back. The sounds of necks snapping on nearby stones and of  bodies breaking seemed to come from a great distance as Artthur fell to his hands and knees, choking. Arthur tried to remove the cord with clumsy fingers. Everything was starting to blur. Then, Merlin rushed to his side. Cool fingers touched his injured neck, carefully removing the cord that was killing him. 

With a rough gasp of air, the world came back to view just in time for Arthur to see two serket tails strike Merlin's back. Merlin had given up the chance to fight them in order to help Arthur!  Pushing himself to his feet, Arthur moved unsteadily between Merlin and the serkets, looking around for his sword. He took gasp after gasp of wonderful air through a bruised and painful throat. 

Merlin opened his mouth and yelled something, throwing a few of the nearest serkets back. Arthur dived forward, grabbing his sword and ignoring his weak muscles. This wasn’t his first time fighting while gasping for breath. Merlin’s voice grew deeper from behind him, “OH drakon… Oh drakon Ema… Drakon amal…”

Arthur cut down serket after serket. He could feel the cost it was taking on him. 

“Awendaþ eft wansæliga neat!” Merlin called out weakly and serkets flew backwards all around them, the remaining few deciding to retreat. Then, Arthur heard a soft thump. 

He turned to see Merlin laying on the ground, eyes flickering shut. Arthur knelt down and pulled Merlin’s face into his hands. “Heal yourself!” he managed to gasp though a screaming throat “Jus’ one more spell.”

“Ge hailige.” Merlin gasped out, meeting Arthur’s eyes with dim fading ones that nonetheless flashed gold. Then, Merlin’s body shuttered, his eyes shut, and he went limp. 

Arthur just about managed to pull Merlin to a nearby stream before his legs gave out again. He sank down and leaned against a tree near the bank. He was still struggling for air, but not nearly as much. Arthur checked on Merlin. He could hear the fast, fitful breaths that exited his sorcerer’s lungs and the weak moan. Merlin was clearly struggling to fight the poison... Worse, Arthur had no idea how to help him. He could only guess. 

Arthur used river water to wash the area of the stings. Then, he tore two strips from his shirt to dip in the water and cover them. He hoped that would help, somehow. 

Arthur pulled Merlin to his chest and held him tight as he grew pale and started to sweat. “I’m here, but I don’t know what to do. Merlin, fight it,” he urged. 

In a moment of clarity, he eventually remembered something from the aftermath of a battle long ago and lifted Merlin’s feet to lay them on a fallen log—keeping the rest of him flat on the ground. That would be good for him, right? Placing a hand gently on Merlin's chest to track his breathing, Arthur managed to get a cool strip of wet cloth around his own neck as well, hoping it would help him think better. It felt good against the painful bruises. Most of his attention, however, stayed on the man he loved.

As night came, he kept Merlin close to make sure he stayed warm while keeping his legs elevated. Every now and then, Merlin’s breathing picked up or turned to wheezes and Arthur stroked his hair helplessly until it evened slightly again.

Arthur was desperate. He had tried to become the curse’s victim to protect Merlin, but he had not expected Merlin to do what he had to protect Arthur. Help him, sure… but to run though a serket nest? More than anything, he hoped the curse would wait before trying to kill Arthur again. He had to make sure Merlin was alright first. He also hoped he would get the chance to yell at him for this.

“You are an idiot,” he told the unconscious warlock in a soft whisper that was easier on his throat. Merlin did not reply. His eyes were shut. Wherever he was, Arthurs could not reach him right now. “You are an idiot, but you need to come back… you need to survive this…” he added in the same whisper. Arthur desperately wished he was in the condition to get Merlin to Gaius again, but he was not and he knew it. “I love you, you idiot of a sorcerer. So… survive ...” He bent down to kiss Merlin's forehead quickly, ignoring the protests of his bruised muscles—he could pay attention to them when he knew Merlin would be alright.

Halfway through the night, as Arthur struggled not to fall asleep, Merlin’s chest began to heave. Arthur turned him to the side, just in time for him to vomit and dry heave several times. Merlin tried to curl up after, as he moaned and tucked his knees up to his chest. 

Arthur pulled him straight again and onto his back with his legs elevated. Had that been a good sign or a bad one? Arthur didn’t know. He tried to give Merlin a bit of river water and realized that was probably a good idea. Keeping Merlin hydrated could be important. But he also needed to keep him warm, right? Arthur spent the rest of that long night trying to warm up cold stream water and then pour it down Merlin’s throat... 

He also kept Merlin in his lap, hoping the body heat would help. “This was not supposed to happen,” he admitted in a horse whisper. “This was never supposed to happen, Merlin. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  Arthur's voice broke.

Merlin’s eyes fluttered open with the rising of the sun. Arthur! Where was Arthur? 

He looked around frantically and a familiar hand moved to stroke his face. Merlin found what he sought in the eyes as blue as the sky gazing down at him with relief and appraisal.

Merlin looked up at his prince, slurring slightly as he spoke. “If you try to tell me it's about time I woke from my beauty rest again, I will fall back asleep on purpose.” 

Arthur’s expression shifted from relief to anger. “You ran through a serket nest!” Arthur’s voice was scratchy and broken. 

Merlin looked at Arthur’s bruised throat, brushed his fingers against the black and blue skin, and whispered a spell to heal him, “Ge hailige.” the skin turned to a better green and yellow. That done, Merlin replied to Arthur stubbornly, “If you’re going to yell at me, I’m going back to sleep now.” 

“YOU DESERVE TO BE YELLED AT. YOU RAN THROUGH A SERKETS NEST!” Arthur yelled.

“Saved you,” Merlin pointed out.

“THAT IS NOT THE POINT!”

“Kinda is.” Merlin shut his eyes. “Ignoring you now. Head hurts.”

When Arthur did not scream again, Merlin opened his eyes partway. Arthur was looking down at him, his expression tender and guilty at the same time.

He was blaming himself for Merlin's injuries. Of course he was.

Merlin managed to lift up a hand, moving it to Arthur's face. “It’s not your fault.” 

Arthur placed his hand over Merlin's, pressing it to his cheek. “And what if it is… What if I did something horrible on my father’s orders when I was young, and that is why this is happening?”

Merlin debated how to help Arthur without revealing he had known about the curse and turned the target of it back to himself—Arthur would just go and turn it back again. It didn’t help that his head was killing him. He couldn’t think right.

“Not your fault,” he said again, knowing Arthur would not believe him. He couldn’t point out that the one who made the curse was at fault without revealing he knew about said curse. He might not even be able to talk about it.

Merlin must have fallen back to sleep, because the sun was higher in the sky when he woke again. He probably looked better too because. Arthur quickly proposed a plan.

“we should make it back to Camelot if you are up to it,” Arthur began. “There is a cave nearby that will make things shorter if you could move the rocks blocking the entrance with your magic. If you need to rest more, instead, tell me now.”

Camelot would mean being farther away from the pwca and thus from Arthur going back and getting the curse put on himself again. And it would be nice to be in less pain—Gaius could help with that. 

Merlin pulled himself up using the tree. The world seemed to spin around him and his head pounded. Soreness seemed to have woven itself into every joint and muscle in his body. He called on his magic to try to heal and purge the venom inside him, at least a bit. “Ge hailige,” Merlin whispered. The world stopped spinning for the most part and the soreness faded slightly. 

Arthur stood and reached to brace Merlin. Merlin could see Arthur’s body had taken quite a beating. He reached out his hand, using his magic again to try to ease the pain. “Ic hæle þina þrowunga.” The black and purple bruises Merlin could see on Arthur faded to a dull greenish-blue or vanished completely. Superficial injuries were easier to heal than anything else. 

“I’m ready and you are ready.” Merlin met Arthur’s gaze. “Let's go.”

Arthur moved his hands to Merlin’s shoulders. He held them for a moment before leaning in and pressing his forehead to Merlins. “If I don’t make it back—”

Merlin cut him off, feeling Arthur’s warm breath on his face as he spoke.“You’ll be fine,” he assured his prince. And he would be. Merlin was the target again. Not that Merlin could tell Arthur that.

“Just listen for once, Merlin! If I don’t make it back…” Arthur trailed off on his own this time, as if unsure of all he wanted to stay. “I love you, that's all,” he finished awkwardly. 

As Arthur pulled back, Merlin could see the countless words trapped inside the man he loved. They were visible in his eyes. Arthur always knew just what to say when delivering speeches to his men, but had trouble finding the words to express deeper things. Merlin knew that. 

“I understand,” he told Arthur, staring into his eyes in a way that communicated he could see what Arthur struggled to say. He understood Arthur did not know how to—or just could not—say the rest of what he wanted to, and Merlin was alright with that. “But you are going to make it back, dollophead. I love you too.” 

They found the cave in question easily. The entrance was not hidden in the slightest, the dark opening contrasting with the mossy, green stone around it. Merlin moved forward carefully, his muscles already voicing their protest at the short walk. Arthur, limping ever so slightly, led the way inside and Merlin summoned a ball of light into his hand to force back the shadows. 

“The cave-in should be just ahead,” Arthur told him.

“Have you ever been in this cave before?” Merlin asked

“No,” Arthur said simply before stopping and moving to the side at a wall of fallen stone and rubble.

“So, you know it can get us to Camelot quicker but have no idea how to actually find us a way though it? Typical.” The warlock reached out both hands and cried out the spell, “Gewican ge stanas!” The giant stones began to move, rolling back into the cave and making room for them to pass.

“It's not that big of a cave, Merlin. It will be simple to find a way though, if you can stop yourself from panicking about pointless things,” Arthur snapped.

“Knowing a way through an unknown cave is not pointless!” Merlin countered as they moved forward, feet echoing on the stone below them. 

“Of course it is, you can just use your magic to find the way.”

Merlin opened and closed his mouth, realizing that this was indeed true. He was not about to give Arthur the satisfaction of admitting it though. Especially when Arthur turned back and had the smuggest self-satisfied smile on his face. Merlin was still not fully used to using magic in front of Arthur, so the idea had not occurred to him. Or, that’s what he told himself.

As they moved deeper inside the cave, the path began to curve to the side, making a walkway that stood apart from a deep, gaping chasm. Both Merlin and Arthur came to a stop, looking at the dark depths they would have to walk next to. 

Arthur spoke first. “If I don’t make it ac—”

Merlin interrupted him by grabbing his face, kissing it thoroughly and then moving out onto the edge. He could feel his heart pounding, because there was no fighting the truth, this was a dangerous spot for him right now. But then, all the world was dangerous for him right now, so it didn’t really matter, did it? The curse would come for him wherever he was.

“Merlin, wait!” Arthur followed him out onto the ledge. 

Merlin looked back at his prince. “We should hold hands. Just in case,” Merlin suggested.

Arthur grabbed his hand without comment and held it as he took the lead again, looking down over the ledge every so often.

They were almost across and Merlin was just starting to breathe easier when a rock fell from above and slammed into his arm. White, hot pain flared and a snap rang out in his ears. Arthurs grip on his hand was torn away. He had no time to focus or assess the pain because the path under him fell away and Merlin started to plunge downward with a yelp. 

He came to a quick stop, hanging off the edge. Merlin looked up to see that Arthur had managed to move quickly enough to grab part of his shirt. He looked up, into the alarmed face of the man he loved, and slightly hysterical laughter bubbled from his throat. “Close one,” he told Arthur.

Merlin started to reach up a hand to try to take Arthurs again, and the cloth tore. The tips of Merlin's fingers just barely brushed Arthurs before he fell down into the darkness, hearing Arthur scream his name.

Falling. He was falling. 

The first bush that caught him had thorns that tore at his skin. The second bush made him realize the trouble he was in. 

He noticed the dark berries among the thorns and felt the berry juices splattered all over him. Mamera berries. The one plant that could knock a man out just by its juice making contact with a cut. His mind made sense of that as he fell though more of the berry bushes. 

Merlin screamed a spell to slow his fall, but his concentration was already ebbing away. He felt the spell catch him, slowing him down, before it sputtered and the last of his concentration failed. If he fell asleep before he could get a spell working, he would die! Merlin desperately tried not to fall to the fuzziness and exhaustion swamping his mind. He managed to force out the words again, and he started to slow slightly, just in time for the inevitable crash into the ground. 

The last thing Merlin was aware of was pain.

Arthur cradled Merlin's ravaged body in his arms as he entered Pwcas’s clearing. He had splinted Merlin’s arm and cleaned the worst of the scrapes and gashes, but there was little he could do for the hopelessly twisted leg. Not to mention what he guessed were several bruised or broken ribs. 

The witch looked at him with her alien, gold eyes. “He brought it on himself. He asked me to turn it back to him,” she told him. 

“I don’t care what he asked, you never should have made him the target again!” Arthur snapped and then took a deep breath. Losing his temper and shouting at her like he wanted to would achieve nothing. Neither would attacking her. She was too powerful. 

“The curse, you won't lift it?”

“No.”

“But you were willing to move it between us,” Arthur confirmed, watching her intently.

The witch shifted her weight. “Yes. I will not move it onto another. It would not work. You are both already woken into my spell.”

“I was not going to ask for it to be another, I am asking you to make me its target again.”

Pwca gave him a look he could only interpret as incredulous. “Wait, you? Again?”

“Yes,” Arthur told her. “Me again.”

She sighed. “Very well. The one whom I will align the circumstances to kill is you again.” She looked fit to continue or add another condition, so Arthur waited. He knew this would have a cost.

“No… Make it me,” Merlin’s voice was thick with pain as he spoke from Arthur's arms. “Please…” 

Of all the times for him to wake! Arthur looked down at Merlin, whose eyes were not even fully open. “What!? Merlin, no! Ignore him!” he looked at Pwca, wide-eyed. “Ignore him!”

Pwca looked between both of them… “What is wrong with you…” she trailed off. “Very well. As before, the next attempt will be on him and then it will switch back to you, little sorcerer. There are new conditions going forward: he cannot use his princely influence to make any of this easier or use others to control anyone, and you cannot use magic to control anyone or prepare. If I’m lucky, this will stop each of you from coming to me again until it kills you.”

She sighed. “And for changing it back again, if the prince one survives after that, there is another rule: You cannot enlist the aid of any physician unless the one targeted has awoken once or is stable. Now, go back home. I need a break before I keep the curse going…. Going to drink… of all the…”

The woman vanished before Arthur could demand he be the target again. He fell to his knees in the clearing. “What have you done?” He looked down at Merlin, whose face was contorted with pain. 

“What I had too,” Merlin managed to get out through clenched teeth. “Will always protect you.”

“Merlin, this is my fault!” Arthur barely stopped himself from screaming. “And you are going to make it kill you instead, because of your self sacrificial idiocy!”

“Keeping you alive… not idiocy,” Merlin gasped. 

Arthur cursed himself for ten types of fool. Merlin being the one to fall instead of Arthur had made him realize the curse was targeting him again. After that, Arthur had quickly put together why Merlin had been in the forest instead of resting. It had been to make the consequence of Arthur's actions fall back on himself. He hadn’t wanted to risk setting Merlin down once he figured that out. So he had brought him along!  

He should have done something to make sure Merlin could not talk during his meeting with Pwca. But like an idiot, he hadn’t because he had not expected Merlin to wake!

“You should not be talking…” he told Merlin   “not that you ever listen to me. We need to get back to Camelot.” Arthur stood with a bit of difficulty. “And we need to get my father somewhere else, because I’m going to be with you more than he would like. I will not let you die.” Arthur would not break down, no matter how much he wanted to. It was his fault and yet Merlin… 

He looked back down at his sorcerer. Merlin’s eyes were shut again. Either he had fainted from the pain, or the berries were still affecting him. 

On the way back, Arthur managed to steal a sheet from one of the outlying farms to cover Merlin. Hopefully it would at least slightly negate any rumors. He left a silver coin where he had taken it from.

Merlin’s eyes opened again as Arthur began to wrap him in it. “What happened?” he asked Arthur. “The nine, the curse?”

“Just let me get you to Gaius… You should not be talking.” Arthur folded part of the cloth over Merlin carefully. 

“Tell me. Or I will wiggle, Arthur.”

Arthur exhaled and looked away. He would make the explanation quick. “Father told me about a group of sorcerer assassins in the woods. He said they planned to hurt him and Morgana. He never gave me details. So I took a few knights, and I killed them,” Arthur admitted. “Part of me hesitated, but I did it anyway. It felt wrong. But I learned to suppress that sort of feeling quickly. That was just one of the first times doing it. It was my father, I thought. Surely he was right.” Arthur grit his teeth. “On the patrol a few days ago, I remembered. I realized they could have been innocent and I would never know. So I went to bury the bodies. She found me there.”

Arthur looked down into night blue eyes full of empathy. Sometimes, he wanted Merlin to yell at him about these things. Perhaps he would feel better about his mistakes if Merlin could just scream at him. But he never did—not about the important things. Part of him wanted to continue talking, to tell Merlin about some of the self hate and doubt inside. But there were more important things.  

“I’m getting you to Gaius now.” Arthur pulled up the other half of the sheet, letting it cover Merlin's face.

Chapter Text

Merlin was, as always, quick to heal. The miraculous thing was that for the next few weeks, neither of them had any attempts on their lives. Perhaps it was just the Pwca’s “break” they had mentioned. Or perhaps she was letting Merlin heal for some reason. Arthur did not know. He was just glad his father seemed preoccupied with avoiding war with Cenred and did not have time to pay attention to servants, or how much time his son and ward were spending with theirs. It couldn’t last, however. 

“Morgana, I’m calling on the favor,” Arthur told her when she and Gwen came to visit the healing Merlin in Gaius’s rooms. “I need to get father out of here for as long as possible. I cannot tell you why.”

Merlin paused his chat with Gwen to look over. Gwen herself raised a brow and looked between Arthur and Merlin. Morgana watched him, eyes thoughtful as Arthur continued, “The best I could come up with is getting him to check the defensive holdings on our border with Cenred.”

“That’s a good plan,'' Morgana replied. From the way she looked at him, she seemed to have figured out this was important. “I can suggest it… but he won’t want to leave Camelot right now.”

“Mention a few nobles who want to see that he trusts Arthur to keep things going while he is gone…” Gwen suggested. 

“That could work.” Morgana nodded at Gwen “We just have to make sure that doesn’t leave Arthur with so much responsibility that it backfires.” After a moment she added, “I’ll do the work instead and tell Uther that Arthur lost a bet with me and was fuming at losing his chance, if he ever finds out.”

“You wanted to see what it was like so you can be a help to him and Arthur if ever needed.” Gwen suggested

“Normally, I would insist you do some yourself, no matter what you’re planning with Merlin,” Morgana continued “but this does not seem like a typical lighthearted occasion.”

“It’s not,” Arthur confirmed.

“Then that leaves one thing: stopping letters going to Uther,” Merlin spoke up. “Normally, I would try to take care of that but I might be… distracted.”

Gwen looked between Merlin and Arthur, concern written over her face. “I can handle that, with a bit of help. I should be able to stop at least most of them.”

“Then we have a plan.” Morgana looked between the both of them. “Whatever it is you are planing, be careful. I’ll try to convince Uther to take as many nobles and servants with him as possible. As a show of strength to Cenred.”

Gaius entered the room just in time for them all to go quiet. The physician’s eyebrow rose. “Next time you want to plan something, make sure you are not overheard. I was standing just outside the door to Merlin’s room.”

Merlin looked at his mentor. “Gaius, please. I cannot tell you anything else but this is Important.”

Gaius looked at Merlin for a long moment. “I will not push you to tell me, but tell me if there's anything I can do to help.”

Arthur watched Merlin go quiet for a long moment, trying to find a way to say something despite the curse. Finally, Merlin just nodded with a sigh.

Merlin was not leaving Arthur alone for an extended amount of time, the sorcerer decided. Not when he was the next target. That meant spending the night near Arthur… And that meant dragging a cot into Arthur’s room when no one else was looking. Afterall, they couldn’t take the chance of sharing a bed. If someone walked in, a cot was so much easier to explain. 

It was hard to manage the cot with his fading limp and he was sore afterwards. But as he panted and positioned his new bed, he felt a slight sense of satisfaction. Then, he looked up and met Arthur’s eyes steadily as the other man looked up from his desk. His gaze dared Arthur to comment and say Merlin should not be sleeping in his room or dragging a cot... Arthur, however, went along with it. It was not until later that Merlin realized it might be because if Arthur survived the next attack, the one after would be on Merlin. Thus, he would want Merlin close.

Of course, Arthur had to keep up appearances and took time off for training. Merlin did the same for his chores. But even then, they stayed reasonably close to each other. 

Sometimes, Merlin could see Arthur watching him with guilty eyes. But every time he tried to bring up the topic of what he knew to be causing such a look in Arthur’s eyes, Arthur deflected or changed the subject. 

Merlin also started to try researching Pwca. He didn’t even have to try dragging Arthur with him, because Arthur seemed to have come to a decision to do the same. Even better, Uther had taken Geoffery with him and they had the archives all to themselves. He didn’t anticipate how hard finding the information he sought would be, though.

Sitting in the archives one day, Merlin let the book in his hands fall to the floor as he realized that it was once again useless. Just like all the others... He wanted to scream, wanted to hit something. Instead, he stumbled to his feet, ignoring the books around him, and looked at Arthur, who was leaning against a shelf with a different book in his hands. Merlin forced his breathing to calm as he spoke softly, “Nothing… again.” Despite his attempts to remain calm his voice cracked. 

It was the worse kind of torture; Merlin knew somthing was coming for Arthur, and he knew nothing he could do would stop it. Yet, despite that, it was all up to him. He had to keep Arthur alive. He had to! He had to.

Arthur met his eyes with serious, blue ones. “Look at it this way. We’ve gotten through four. We’re almost halfway there.” Despite his own words Arthur's tone was dull, his eyes sad and apprehensive.

Merlin watched him for a moment and then took slow, purposeful steps forward toward the other man—his eyes locked on Arthurs. And then, Merlin leaned forward and pressed his lips against his prince’s.

Arthur’s arms wrapped around him as Merlin kissed him desperately. The soft sweetness of Arthurs mouth let him distract himself from what was to come, if only for a moment. Merlin moved a hand to caress the back of Arthur's head and another to his back as Arthur tilted his head slightly to increase the intensity of the kiss. 

Merlin responded by squeezing his eyes closed, trying to block off everything else but Arthur—to fill his awareness with the other man so thoroughly that there was no room left for anything else, including the tearing pain in his heart that he might lose him soon.

Arthur’s arms pulled him closer, pressing Merlin against his chest as a hand moved to run though Merlin’s hair. Neither of them spoke as they breathed each other in. Merlin’s tongue entered Arthurs mouth as it opened under his. Arthurs own tongue moved eagerly to caress Merlin’s as one of his hands moved soothingly down Merlin’s back and the other gripped the back of the warlock’s head.

A tear fell from one of Merlin's eyes, moving down his face. He pressed forward, inadvertently shoving Arthur against the bookshelf behind him. Arthur did not resist, merely pulling Merlin closer.

Then the shelf behind them toppled backwards, taking Merlin and Arthur with it, the pair fell without bothering to separate even an inch. The Prince of Camelot and his sorcerer curled around each other on the ground in the shadow of the fallen bookcase, pressed together and inhaling each other like they were the only ones left on Earth.

When they finally pulled back for air, Merlin met Arthur’s eyes. “I can’t do this, Arthur. I can’t lose you. I can’t.” 

Arthur said nothing at first, but from the look in his eyes, he empathized with Merlin completely. Then he spoke. “I suppose it’s simple then. Neither of us can die. We have to get through the curse.” 

Merlin gave a choked laugh. “Yes, simple.” 

“You won’t give up on me, Merlin, and I won’t give up on you,” Arthur told him. “Neither of us can die. We have to live, no matter what she throws at us.”

“You’re planning to go back and try to make the target you again soon, aren't you?” Merlin asked abruptly. Perhaps Arthur would tell him the truth here. 

Arthur seemed to consider how to his reply but finally admitted, “Yes”

“And I can’t use magic to stop you. I can’t use magic to save you.” He pushed the dreadful feeling of utter helplessness away.  “When this is over, if… when we survive, what do you want to do to celebrate?”

“We could always go hunting.” Arthur watched Merlin's face and laughed at his expression. Somehow, the laugh rang hollow. Arthur’s hand moved to stroke Merlin's cheek. “No, we'll say we’re out hunting and instead find a nice place to relax and spend time together. Somewhere near a lake.”

“Why a lake?” Merlin surrendered himself to Arthur's vision—to the afterward, when all this was over—closing his eyes again.

“So I can push you in the water when you annoy me obviously,” Arthur told him, tone at his most infuriating.

Merlin just laughed. “There will be berry bushes. We’ll gorge on the berries. And I will smear them all over your face in revenge.”

“Hang on, I did not agree to this,” Arthur objected.

“I was not asking your permission,” Merlin countered. “What else will we do?”

“Well, there will have to be a good bed, that’s a requirement. No more cots for you.” 

“Absolutely,” Merlin agreed. “I can show you spells you might like or just use whatever magic I feel like.”

Arthur lifted his head to press his forehead to Merlin’s. “I’ll bring my sword, show off moves, and give you lessons.”

“Wait, I thought this was for fun,” Merlin objected. “Sword lessons, which are actually just you swinging at me, do not count as fun!”

“It would be fun for me,” Arthur told him. Merlin could practically see the teasing grin on his face.

“I’m not going to be your target practice during our lake and berry time!” Merlin insisted.

“Come on, Merlin, don’t be such a wet blanket.” 

“No, I refuse you ass!” Merlin told him and then captured Arthur's mouth again. Kissing him deeply again, though with less franticness this time. Desire for Arthur surged through him. “So about beds… or places like them…” he began.

That night, after a good deal of sex and sheet changing, Merlin decided to take a risk. Afterall  they were facing so much.

Before Arthur could lay down, Merlin carefully climbed onto Arthur’s bed. He had not shared a bed with the man since their time in the blizzard. And this was Arthur’s actual bed. Merlin lay in a straight line, arms at his sides, trying to adjust to what he was doing and the bed he had just climbed on. He turned his head to see Arthur’s surprise, and the joy in his eyes followed by understanding. 

Merlin relaxed and wiggled slightly. It was over if someone caught them, but then, if the worst happened then it was over anyway. Arthur lay down next to him, carefully wrapped an arm around Merlin and pulled him closer to himself. Merlin forgot to breathe for a moment. There was something so domestic about this. For the first time, he could see the future—a future after Uther was gone, when this was his life: sleeping next to Arthur every night, being with Arthur and not having to hide it. It was a beautiful future. They just had to survive to reach it.

He should have seen it coming. Merlin woke up to a loud yell and flailed, throwing off the covers in the dark room. Then, he conjured a ball of light in one hand to reveal the scene before him. 

Arthur stood on the bed, sword in hand. The hooded figure between Arthur and the window yanked out the dagger he had just stabbed into Arthurs side.

Arthur staggered back a step, gritted his teeth, and swung his blade in an attempt to behead his attacker. Blood pooled, crimson and dangerous, onto the bed from the dagger wound on Arthur’s side.

Before Merlin could react, the assassin ducked under the swing and plunged his dagger into Arthur’s other side. The move, however, cost them their life as Arthur ran them through. Another figure jumped into the room from the window. Merlin jerked his head, sending them out to fall to their death. 

“No more of them, then?” Arthur gasped. The sword slipped from his gasp, making a dreadful clang as it hit the floor of the room. 

Merlin did not reply to Arthur, he was too busy tearing the sheets to make bandages. 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked. 

“Hold still,” was all Merlin said as he frantically bandaged Arthur’s wounds. He didn't think the attacker had hit anything vital, but Arthur was losing blood quickly. Too quickly.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Arthur said, sagging sideways. Merlin caught him, wrapping one of Arthur's arms around his shoulders. “We have to get you to Gaius…” Merlin began. 

To his horror, the bandages were already leaking blood. It trailed along the floor as Merlin half-carried, half-helped Arthur stagger out the door. More blood… And more! Too much… As they moved down the halls, Merlin could see Arthur’s eyelids droop—his face pale, sweaty and clammy. 

Merlin shook him. “Hey! Prat! Stay awake! Clotpole!” Merlin was mostly carrying Arthur now and the insults were desperate invitations for him to keep talking.

“Still can’t… tell me what to do…” Arthur slurred out. Then, he sagged against Merlin completely, the wetness of his bleeding wounds further staining Merlin’s outfit.

“That is not funny!” Merlin snapped as they rounded a corner. 

“Slightly funny. Heh,” Arthur’s words slurred even more. 

Merlin lifted the man he loved as adrenaline rushed through his body. He had to get Arthur to Gaius. Blood dripped sluggishly to the stone floors 

“Arthur? Talk to me! ARTHUR!” Merlin tried. “I mean it! Arthur! Arthur, say something!”  Merlin took off, running.

Arthur’s face was much too pale. He started a word that began with “S—” but his voice broke off part way through. Then, Arthur’s eyes rolled up behind eyelids as they finally flickered closed.

“ARTHUR!” Merlin called his name frantically. “Arthur… Hold on.” Merlin began to run faster, spurred on by desperation.

“Stay alive… stay alive,” Merlin gasped as he ran, the words matching the rhythm of his pounding heart. Arthur was still losing too much blood. Much too much blood... Much more, and it would be too late.

“Arthur, stay with me!” Merlin called. “Don’t you dare die like this! Arthur!" 

But Arthur, limp in Merlin's arms and pale as alabaster, did not reply. 

“Almost there… we’re almost there.” Merlin rushed up a staircase.

Too much blood. From what Merlin knew, Arthur had lost too much blood. He was either at the point of blood loss that meant there would be no recovery, or he was close and death was still the most likely outcome. Merlin prayed he was wrong. His own heartbeat pounded in his ears now. Let him be wrong. He wasn’t Gaius, he could be wrong…

Merlin slammed a foot against Gaius’s door as he reached it, exhaustion spreading though his body as the door finally opened. He ignored it. “It’s not too late…” Merlin begged, holding Arthur and falling to his knees. “Gaius! Tell me it's not too late! Gaius please!!!”

The fingers tenderly carding through Arthur’s hair felt wonderful. The hand holding his and the thumb-stroking his palm was also soothing. Everything else, however, was horrible. Dizzy… He was so dizzy. There was also the pain—lots of pain—but Arthur was used to ignoring pain and acting strong. It was a basic instinct by now and his father would not like it if he showed how much he hurt. 

He opened his eyes to a blurry and spinning world. His stomach lurched with nausea.

There were sounds from far away: gasping, words, more words. Someone was saying his name and a hand moved to his cheek. Arthur could just make out what he thought were a set of night blue eyes. Then, Arthur shut his eyes again, falling into the warm comfort of sleep.

When he adjusted to wakefulness again, the hand was still tenderly running through his hair and a thumb was still stroking his palm… Or stroking his palm again. This time, Arthur could just about make out what the voices were saying. 

“You used the yarrow and lady's mantle?”

“Yes, Gaius.”

“I need to get more.”

“I’ll watch him.”

“It's not your fault, my boy. You got here as quickly as you could, and thanks to that, he is recovering.”

Arthur opened his eyes and made out the familiar figure near him: dark hair and a neckerchief. Merlin . His Merlin.

“Merlin,” Arthur groaned, despite a clumsy tongue. The figure shifted their head with a snap and blue eyes met his own. 

“Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed, his voice breaking. “You’re… alright-” He broke off, pressed a hand to Arthur's chest and mumbled some words. Magic rushed through Arthur’s body, pushing back the weakness, dizziness, confusion, and pain.  

Merlin’s hand smoothed back Arthur’s hair repeatedly. For a moment, he just looked at Arthur with loving, worried, blue eyes. Then, Merlin leaned down further and fit his soft lips tenderly against Arthur’s own. 

Warmth spread through Arthur's body from where their lips touched each other. Merlin’s free hand moved to stoke his face. Arthur reached for him too, letting out a disappointed sound when Merlin pulled back. Merlin’s touch was a siren's song, afterall, drawing him in and making him lose control of the many many walls he put up to keep himself safe in his endless desire for more.

“I thought I was too late,” Merlin whispered, voice thick with pain. He shuddered at the memories going through his mind and squeezed his eyes shut. Arthur moved a hand to stoke Merlin’s cheek.

“You were not too late. I am alright. Like always.” He tried to comfort his sorcerer. He was absolutely exhausted, but this much he could do. Merlin looked like he needed it.

Merlin’s hand ran through Arthur's hair again. Then, he leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Arthurs again. Arthur cradled Merlin's head and kissed him thoroughly. Or, as thoroughly as he could manage.

Slowly, Merlin stopped shaking. Then, he pulled back. “Gaius is getting some herbs. He can likely speed your healing up a bit more.”

“Right,” Arthur acknowledged, watching Merlin carefully. 

Merlin sat on the edge of his bed. He did seem to be calming down, but Arthur made a note to keep an eye on him.

“Also, you are doomed to seaweed soup for a while. It helps with blood loss,” Merlin told him.

“Seaweed what?” Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled and reached down, fingers tenderly trailing over the planes of Arthur’s face. A smile was good. But that smile... Merlin was up to something.

“Seaweed soup, for blood loss,” Merlin told him again. “I’ll get some of it now. It can be revenge for that time you made me eat rat.” Merlin moved to depart, hand trailing down Arthur's arm.

Arthur called out softly after him, “ Mer lin… you are the one that did that first!” 

Merlin came back into view, holding a bowl. The evil smile was still on his face. He got onto the small bed Arthur was laying in and lifted Arthur’s head gently into his lap. “I didn’t force feed you…” Merlin told him. “You did… like this.” He laddled a spoonful of something slimy and odd tasting into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur made a face, and then swallowed. 

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused his sorcerer.

“Maybe, just slightly.” Merlin smiled. “But if you eat it all, I will kiss you again and curl up beside you.”

Arthur raised a brow. “I will not be so easily bribed, Merlin! I am a prince. I have standards. I…” he trailed off. “Fine.”

Merlin grinned triumphantly and gave Arthur another spoonful.

That night, Arthur awoke with a start. The first thing that came to his sleep focused mind was the sound of Merlin breathing hard and whimpering. Panicking, he tried to get to his feet, only to find that he was too weak. Instead, he turned his head, trying to make things out in the dim light of the room. 

Merlin? 

Merlin was nearby, bent over a table and breathing hard and fast. Whimpers escaped his mouth and his face and skin were sweaty. Arthur panicked even more. What had happened to him!? 

“Merlin!” He managed to find a leather waterskin to throw at his sorcerer while he desperately tried to muster the strength to get out of bed. Knowing only that he needed to get to Merlin, Arthur groaned and pushed himself up. 

Merlin’s head lifted from the table. Still breathing fast, the sorcerer looked around until his panicked, blue eyes found Arthur, and gradually his fast breathing slowed. Once calm, he looked a bit chagrined. “Sorry, did I wake you? It was just a nightmare.” His hand reached out, finding the waterskin. “Wait, did you just throw this at me?”

Arthur didn’t reply. Of course Merlin was having nightmares. He was not the only one. Arthur reached an arm out, lowering himself back on the bed again. “Come here”

“But…”

“Thats an order.”

“Arthur, that is a one person bed and you should not be moving!” Merlin stood up and took a step forward before stopping himself.

“We’ll adapt,” Arthur told him. “Now listen to me for once in your life, Merlin.” 

Merlin tilted his head to the side as if he was debating arguing.

“I’m having them too,” Arthur finally admitted. “If you ever tell anyone, I will make you clean the stables every day for a week. Or something like it.”

That seemed to sway Merlin. He approached Arthur and lay down next to him on the edge of the bed. “I am not cleaning the stables every day,” he informed Arthur as he settled on the bed. “I don’t care what you order, that is not happening.”

Arthur moved an arm gingerly around Merlin and then shifted himself lightly to run his lips though sweaty black hair.  

As he recovered, Arthur’s thoughts focused on what was to come. It was Merlin’s turn and Arthur was determined to be ready. He was also starting to plan when it would be safe to sneak away and try to make himself the target of the curse again. The key would be to time it so Merlin did not die while he was gone or stop him. Perhaps he could enlist Morgana and Gwen? Both had come to visit him a great deal as he recovered. But he had not broached the topic yet. 

Arthur had also noticed a pattern. The Pwca tended to let them recover a good deal after an attempt—their time in the woods was the only exception—and Arthur was recovering swiftly. This meant that an attempt on Merlin's life would happen soon. 

Once Merlin survived the attempt—and he would survive!—that would be the best time to risk leaving him to go see the pwca, while Merlin was recovering. 

The new rule also ate away at him. He couldn’t take Merlin to Gaius anymore. Not unless he was awake or stable. He tried not to think about how that first time, Merlin would have died without Gaius’s magic. Gaius, who Arthur could no longer bring Merlin to right away, even if he was dying in Arthur’s arms again. 

They moved back to Arthur’s room after a time. Shortly after they returned to it that first night, an “Ah!” from Merlin interrupted Arthur's brooding as he sat near his window. He looked to his sorcerer immediately, terrified something had happened. Merlin seemed fine though. He even gave Arthur an  apologetic look from his spot on the cot surrounded by books before speaking. 

“I found something,” Merlin explained. “About Pwca.” 

Arthur stood quickly and rushed over to Merlin, who gestured enthusiastically at a page in the book. "Read it." Arthur ordered.

“Pwca’s are creatures of great magic. They often serve a group or a household in exchange for a daily bowl of milk or cream. They are highly mischievous but most often harmless unless angered. An angered Pwca may bestow a Pwca curse. These curses are powerful, uncounterable magic, and seem to adjust reality to come to pass. Their one weakness is that the pwca must always leave a way to beat the curse, however unlikely. While the Pwca might be persuaded to change aspects of the curse, there is almost always an additional cost. This cost can be mitigated by bringing the Pwca cream as a gift.”

Disappointment squeezed Arthur’s heart. There was no way to kill it or stop the curse, only to stop it from adding new conditions when Arthur flipped the curse back on himself.

Arthur walked back over to his bed and fell back onto it, spreading his arms. “Great,” he voiced his disappointment. “There is no way to stop it.”

Merlin walked over to the side of the bed and looked down at him, his head tilted to the side. 

“What?” Arthur demanded.

“Well, did you try apologizing?” Merlin asked.

Annoyance flashed through Arthur’s head. “You know what, Merlin, that's exactly what I forgot. I killed nine people, went to make sure they had a proper burial and didn’t think ‘I’m sorry’. A random creature put a curse on you, and it all happened because I forgot to apologize for what I did when they showed up. Thank you so much for your brilliant suggestion. Why don’t I go right now and say ‘I’m sorry’ again, because that will definitely stop the murderous curse that got put on you due to my actions. This would all be fine and you would be safe, if only I had thought to APOLOGIZE!” 

Merlin’s brows raised as Arthur finished his rant. “I was just asking.” He sat down next to Arthur. “And it's not your fault. It’s the Pwca’s.”

Arthur said nothing, merely staring up at the canopy of the bed. The Pwca would have never cast the curse if he had not killed those people. 

“You didn’t know what you were doing. How could you? You were young and believed your father,” Merlin continued.

Arthur wanted to take comfort in his words, but part of him had known it was wrong, even then... He had just ignored that part, because he had trusted his father and wanted to make Uther proud of him. Such a stupid, stupid thing to do. And his father was never proud. Or almost never…

There was a long silence, then Merlin began to get up. “I’ll go get us some dinner.” 

Arthur grabbed his arm. “No wait!” There was no way he was leaving Merlin alone if he could help it, and he could not exactly go down with him to get the food without tongues wagging. 

“Hide in the closet,” Arthur ordered. “I'll shout for someone to get it for me. And then, I will mention you being a lazy, insolent servant who doesn't get food when they should.”

The trick worked wonderfully, Arthur thought as he ate his dinner. Who knew Merlin’s tendency to disappear would ever be so handy for cover.

The next morning, he tried the trick again. Again, it worked wonderfully. Arthur watched the servant leave after placing the food on the table.

Merlin opened the cupboard door and stepped out. “You know, you don’t always have to call me a lazy, idiotic buffoon.” He scowled at Arthur. “You could try for something more original.”

Arthur grinned at him. “Please, Merlin, I am very good at insulting you. I could do something new, yes.. And I will. But these are so classic.”

Merlin picked up a roll and threw it at Arthur. “See, I thought you would say that. It’s why I gave instructions, while you were distracted yesterday, that from now on you only want wine with lemon juice.” Merlin grinned at Arthur and then hit a hand to his forehead lightly. “Oh wait, you hate that, don’t you? It must have slipped my mind!”

“Merlin,” Arthur growled dangerously.

Merlin gave him a triumphant grin, grabbed a goblet and drank it down. “It’s very good, such a pity you can never handle sour flavors!”

“Merlin, you mean to say all the wine has lemon juice in it?” Arthur growled, then turned to the table. “Fine, I’m eating all the meat. No meat for you.” He grabbed a drumstick and took a bite, making unnecessary sounds of appreciation before looking back at Merlin. “It’s so good ! Shame you won’t be able to have—”

Arthur broke off, noticing Merlin’s wide eyes. The sorcerer's hand played at his throat, his gaze darting to the wine and then back to Arthur with realization as a horrible sort of scared acceptance spread over his face. The Pwca never stuck the same way, Arthur remembered. They had used venom once, but not poison!

Arthur grabbed a bag. Gaius was the only one who could identify and counter the poison. And if Merlin passed out before he could get him there, nothing Arthur could do would make him stable—he would die! He had to be quick. Arthur threw in the pitcher and goblet, then turned back to Merlin.

The sorcerer was making high-pitched wheezing sounds. He had fallen onto a chair. Arthur yanked him up. “Do not pass out!” he yelled. ”Do you hear me, Merlin? Fight it!”  

Arthur ran for Gaius’s rooms, pulling Merlin along. On the first staircase, Merlin’s knees gave out. Arthur lifted him, scoping him up before he could fall to the ground without even pausing. A look down at Merlin’s face revealed wide, blue eyes and a sweaty face. His high-pitched wheezes were growing more desperate and rare, his eyes dilated and no longer alert. Arthur shifted his hold to slap Merlin’s face hard. “MERLIN!!” he screamed. Merlin could not pass out; he had to stay awake or he had no chance. The panic Arthur had pushed away was pouring back in.

He thought the warlock’s eyes focused slightly more on him, so Arthur kept talking to him as he ran. “Stay awake! Remember what we’re going to do, how we are not letting this kill us. Remember!” He rushed down a hall and turned a corner, nearly bowling someone over. Arthur just kept running. 

“So, stay awake, Merlin! MERLIN!” Merlin’s eyes were starting to flutter and the desperate high-pitched wheezing was starting to fade. Arthur shook his warlock in his arms roughly. “Merlin! You are not allowed to pass out, that is an order! You need to stay awake. You need to be awake!” 

Merlin seemed to push back against the poison slightly. He let out more high-pitched wheezing and his eyes locked onto Arthur’s despite him struggling to keep them open.

“Good! Focus on me, you idiot, and do not fall unconscious,” Arthur told him. “Do not fall unconscious” The ‘idiot’ comment did not get any reply from Merlin like Arthur had hoped it might. The high-pitched wheezing was growing more weak and rare again, but they were almost to Gaius.

Arthur threw open the door to the physician's room and charged inside as Gaius looked up from grinding some herbs, the physician’s eyes immediately growing wide. 

“Poison!” Arthur kept his words short. “Brought what did it in the bag. Need to help him before he passes out!”

Gaius rushed forward and opened the bag, sniffing the contents. His face paled. What did that mean?  

“Lay him on the bed, I will get the frankincense and rare herbs.”

Arthur held Merlin, sitting up on the bed instead. He didn’t want to risk laying him down.

Gaius moved faster than Arthur had ever seen him, mixing up what Arthur guessed to be an antidote. He moved over to them and poured it into Merlin’s mouth just in time for Merlin’s eyes to roll back into his head. 

As Merlin went limp, Gaius tried to force more of the antidote into him. Instead, he was pushed back by an invisible wall.

“Give it to me!” Arthur demanded, and Gaius obliged. Arthur tilted Merlin's head back, preparing to pour more into him, and found himself pushed back as well. The invisible force of the magic shoved Arthur away from Merlin. What he tried to give had been from Gaius, and counted as aid from a physician...

Merlin slumped backwards on the bed, limp. Arthur yelled, struggling against the barrier that kept him from Merlin with all his might. He had to give him more antidote. “NO!” Arthur strained, throwing himself against the barrier. “NO!” he yelled.

Arthur threw himself against it again and again, screaming his rage and anquish. Finally he forced to give up. Breathing hard, he looked at Gaius, whose face was pale and drawn. Gaius’s eyes were on Merlin, who lay on the bed, out of reach of them both. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur gasped. “I’m so sorry. I…” His throat caught before he could reveal anymore. He looked back at Merlin, willing him to live, willing what he had gotten of the antidote to be enough. Soon, Merlin stopped making the high-pitched wheezing noises, but Arthur did not know if that was a good or bad thing this time.

“We can’t get close to him. What happened? What is this magic?” Gaius demanded. 

“I can’t tell you,” Arthur replied. “I can’t… How bad is the poison?” 

The grave look on Gaius’s face in response felt like a stone falling through him and landing on his heart. He had to be near Merlin. He had to know. Perhaps if he did not try to give him more antidote?

He tried moving forward again, this time without the potion from Gaius. To his relief, the spell let him through. 

“No physician help, unless he is awake or stable,” Arthur told Gaius. “I’m sorry.” 

The prince reached Merlin's bed. Then, he knelt, reaching out two trembling fingers and pressing them against Merlin’s neck. Arthur’s heart leapt as he felt a steady throb under his fingertips, then he realized he could also see Merlin's chest rising and falling. 

“He’s alive, Gaius! He's alive!” Arthur called back. His own head fell forward into the mattress of the bed in his relief. His breathing came fast and then slowed. The tears that totally did not fall from his eyes were absorbed by the mattress. 

“He’s alive.” 

Chapter Text

In the nightmare, Merlin held Arthur’s bloody body in his arms. He had slipped on blood-drenched floors and his legs would not obey his order to get up again. He screamed and tried to move, knowing it was already too late to save Arthur. Behind him, the bed was drenched in Arthur’s blood and the pwca stood before him, laughing at him. Merlin screamed again. It was too late... He was too late. 

Merlin's eyes flew open and he tried to flail, only to find his arms were too heavy to move. His body felt weighed down by lead and his head felt like someone had stuck the inside with a mallet. That was all he noticed before he was pulled, unceremoniously, into Arthur’s arms.

Merlin would know the feel of Arthur’s arms anywhere.

His body moved like a ragdoll as he was pressed against Arthur’s chest tenderly, his head falling onto Arthur's shoulder and turned toward the prince's neck and blond hair. 

“Merlin…” Arthur breathed his name, caressing it as he spoke. He held Merlin like he was drowning and Merlin was the air he needed to breathe. “Gaius, he’s awake.”

Merlin’s head was turned and a vial of liquid held to his mouth. He drank it obediently and met Gaius’s relieved eyes for a moment. Then, his head fell back onto Arthur’s shoulder. 

Merlin could feel Arthur’s fast breathing against his own chest. A hand moved to run though his dark hair. His body was still too heavy to move, so he tried to speak. His words came out as a slightly weezing whisper. “Careful, people might start t’notice y’care.” 

Arthurs only reply was to pull Merlin tighter to himself. To Merlin horror, Arthur was shaking slightly. It was subtle, as Arthur was doing all he could to keep control of himself, but pulled so close Merlin could feel it.

Merlin could guess what he was thinking.

“Not your fault,” Merlin wheezed. 

“Isn't it?” Arthur replied

Merlin took a deep breath and paused, realizing, “Not going t’ listen to anything I say of how this is not your fault ‘till this is over, are you?”

Arthur said nothing and merely continued to run his hand through Merlin’s hair. The caresses of his hand felt wonderful compared to the exhaustion and dull pain in Merlin's body.

“love you,” Merlin whispered instead, “feels good.”

“You too. Now sleep, Merlin,” was all Arthur said in response.

Judging by the fact that he still felt weighed down, that was not a horrible idea. Merlin pressed his face into Arthur's neck, inhaling his comforting scent and fell asleep in his arms.

When Merlin next opened his eyes and escaped from his nightmares, he pushed himself up quickly. To his surprise, Arthur was gone and Morgana sat nearby, playing absently with a few vials. Gwen sat beside him with some embroidery in her lap

“Where's Arthur?” Merlin demand. He had a horrible feeling he knew exactly where Arthur was.

“He’s sneaking out for a reason he won’t tell us, and we’re supposed to watch you and stop you from stopping him,” Gwen told him in a calm voice.

Merlin managed to stand. “Don’t try it. I need to stop him.”

“It's likely a bit too late for that,” Morgana admitted. “He’s been gone for a bit. But we will not try to stop you from following him.” She met Merlin’s eyes. “Something is going on that you cannot tell us, but he’ll be safer if you know where he is, right?”

Merlin appraised her for a moment.

“Merlin, the way you two have been behaving and the injuries… We’d have to be blind not to realize something is happening,” Morgana told him. “Will he be safer if you know where he is?”

“You’ll both be safer?” Gwen added.

“He’ll be safer. As for me, it's a bit more complicated. But I have to do this.” Merlin's voice shook with emotion as he attempted to steady himself. He just managed it. He had always been quick to heal.

“He rode east. He actually dressed up as a woman. The moment he asked for a dress, if Gwen had not already figured things out, I would have known.”

Merlin blinked at them. “Arthur… dressed up as a woman?”

Gwen nodded. “Something about if you woke up and got away from us, he didn’t want you finding him and stopping him before he could get out.”

“But I don’t have to get away from you… you’re letting me go?” Merlin looked between them gratefully.

“It seems like the best thing,” Gwen explained. “Look after each other.” She paused and grabbed a jar from nearby. “The servants said he took a jar of cream before he left. I got some for you in case it was important.”

“Thank you,” Merlin told them emphatically before  grabbing the jar and darting out the door.

Merlin rode his horse towards the woods at a gallop, hoping—praying—he could catch up with Arthur before Arthur made himself the target again. He didn’t know what he would do if he found Arthur. The pwca had said he couldn’t use any magic to try to stop him, but he would come up with that when he got to him. 

There was no sign of Arthur along the path to the woods. Perhaps there would have been if Merlin took the time to look at tracks, but he didn’t. Merlin knew where Arthur was going. 

As he reached the woods, Merlin dismounted to move through the thick trees. He ran toward the pwca’s clearing, ignoring his body’s protests. 

Then, as he neared the clearing, he heard  them…

“Very well. The target is, again, you, and no conditions have been added due to the cream.” The pwca sounded incredibly annoyed.

Merlin’s heart sank as he ran headlong into the clearing. He was too late. He had to change it back. “Pwca!”

Both the pwca and Arthur turned to look at him suprised. Arthur’s discarded dress that lay nearby. Immediately, Arthur lunged for Merlin and clamped hand over his mouth.  “Merlin, no! You’re not doing this to yourself! not again!” He dragged Merlin back, trying to pull him out of the clearing.

This called for drastic measures. Merlin bit the hand in front of his mouth.

Athur yelped and Merlin grabbed his arm with both of his own, yanking it away from his mouth. “Make it me,” he gasped as they scuffled. He rolled the cream toward the pwca and tried to clamp his own hand over Arthur’s mouth.

The pwca’s eyes flicked between them. “As before it will hit him once and then you.” She rolled her eyes and continued talking. “These are my last three chances. I am going to get involved more personally. And then, once this is done, I will never have to see either of you or deal with your self-sacrificial insanity again. I need another drink.” 

The pwca vanished just as Arthur got out the world “Make—”

Prince and sorcerer stopped scuffling. Arthur’s eyes were furious as he stood in the middle of the clearing. His chest heaved as he stared at Merlin. “Why can’t you just let me pay the price for what I did!” he shouted.

“Because it's not fair,” Merlin yelled back. “Because I will always protect you. Because I refuse to lose you to petty revenge from a creature that does not even know you. Because I love you.” 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t love me then,” Arthur yelled. “This, us, never should have happened, Merlin!”

Merlin winced as if Arthur had stuck him. 

“If you didn’t love me so much, none of this would happen! You would not be giving up your life! I never should have let this happen! I never should have confessed my feelings,” Arthur continued.

“I was willing to sacrifice my life for you long before I knew you loved me back,” Merlin called back, ignoring the pain in his heart. “You’d do the same for me, we both know it! You’ve proved it multiple times!”

Arthur fell to his knees. Merlin moved forward slowly, knelt down beside him, and wrapped his arms around the man he loved. “If you want us to be over, tell me.” The words tasted like bile in his mouth and it was an effort to get them out. He waited for a reply, heart hamming in his chest. 

“What I want is for you to stop sacrificing yourself for me like an idiot!” The statement ended with a strangled sound—a sob. Arthur was actually crying, despite trying not to.

“If I agreed, I would insist you stop sacrificing yourself for me and we both know you won’t. Also, I would be lying,” Merlin told him.

Arthur let out a slightly hysterical “heh” and then wrapped his arms around Merlin, desperately pressing his face into Merlin's shoulder as his body shook. “I should just be horrible and push you away.”

“I don’t think you would be able to keep it up. To be truly horrible, I mean. You already are an annoying insensitive prat.” Merlin ran a hand down Arthur’s back.

“You are doubting my ability to be horrible?” Arthur challenged, not letting go.

“I… actually, yes,” Merlin replied. “I don’t think you could pull off being cruel enough. Besides, it would not be worth it and you might not have the time. We only have three more attempts on us and two are set in stone.”

“I think you underestimate what I would do to make that last one not be on you,” Arthur murmured from his neck

“Well, we’ll never know, because if you try it, I’ll be onto you now,” Merlin told him in reply. 

Arthur was silent for a long minute as they held each other in the clearing, then he gasped.

“Wait a minute! Merlin, you should not be out here!” Arthur thrust him back, still holding him at a distance by the shoulders. He met Merlin's confused gaze with wide blue eyes. “You’re recovering from being poisoned!”

“Oh that,” Merlin acknowledged. “That would explain why I’m so tired.” 

Back in Camelot, after he recovered, Merlin wondered what the pwca being more involved would mean. He dreaded finding out the answer. Like Arthur, he had caught onto the pwca letting them heal and never attacking the same way twice. They had even talked about it. But there were still so many ways Arthur could be harmed. And now that he was better, it could come at any moment. Merlin had to be prepared. 

He hated leaving Arthur, but knew he had to at times, because if he didn’t do any of his servants duties there would most certainly be talk. Every time he left Arthur alone to get bathwater or cleaning supplies, he was terrified of coming back to find him dying. Each time he came back to find Arthur safe, it was as if the sun started shining again.

Merlin also tried to find out more about pwca tactics and accounts of their curses  to see what kind of “active” involvement pwcas had in the past. Merlin sat on his cot as Arthur bathed, reading what he could. He had gotten lucky with this latest book, he realized, as he read. Telekinesis seemed to be in their power. As did weather magic—or certain elemental magics that the text did not make quite clear. Burning was a danger, then. 

Merlin sighed and moved to hide in a closet as there was a knock. A servant came in and put some pickled eggs and ham on the table before exiting.

Merlin stepped out of the closet and crossed to the table. “Arthur, you better hurry or I am going to eat all the pickled eggs.”

Arthur did not reply and Arthur was crazy about his pickled eggs. Instantly, Merlin was on alert. The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. Oh gods! He should have seen it before… telekinesis and a potential victim in a bathtub. Oh gods. How long has he been reading!?

Merlin knocked the chair over in his rush to stand. He raced behind the divider, hoping he was wrong.

He was not wrong.

Arthur lay submerged in the tub, limp and motionless. His legs and arms were at an odd angle; clearly he had struggled while the pwca had held him under the water with their magic. Breath coming fast, Merlin reached both arms into the tub and pulled Arthur out. Arthur spilled onto the floor, motionless, his blond hair pasted back and his lips blue.

“Arthur!'' Merlin knelt next to him, reaching a hand out for a pulse and watching his chest. The pulse was there, though a bit faint, but Arthur was not breathing. Panic swamped the sorcerer.

“Arthur! Arthur, breathe!” Merlin shook him frantically, keeping one hand on his pulse. “Breathe!” he slapped Arthur's face and struck his still chest, trying to make his lungs react.

“Arthur, no! Arthur, breathe!” He tried to scream, but it caught in his throat. He couldn't take Arthur to Gaius, he couldn’t use magic, he couldn’t do anything else and the pulse he could feel was getting weaker. Sheer panic filled him and a horrible tightening pain was forming in his chest, strangling his heart. This was it. Arthur would not start breathing and Merlin could not do anything. This was it, and Merlin was losing him. 

“Arthur! Arthur, breathe! Please! ” Merlin begged the limp blond on the floor as he shook him again. “Please breathe,” his voice broke.

But Arthur was not breathing. A sob ripped from Merlin's throat. “No, you don’t get to die… you don’t get to…”  

No! Merlin would not accept this . If Arthur would not breathe, perhaps Merlin could make him breathe? He needed air in his lungs. Merlin could make that happen. Because Arthur was not going to die, not like this.

With no thought other than getting air in Arthur’s lungs, Merlin leaned down and tried to blow air into the other man. It didn’t work. Arthur’s chest didn’t rise. Despair filled him until he realized he had felt air on his cheek. Perhaps it was escaping before it could go into him? With that thought in mind, Merlin pinched Arthur's nose, pressed his mouth over Arthur’s again, and desperately blew into him.

Arthur's chest finally rose, and with it, Merlin’s hope that there was still a chance. 

Several breaths into Arthur later, and the panic was back at full flood. 

“Arthur, breathe! Arthur, come back to me dollophead ” Merlin could feel the tears on his cheeks.

Several more breaths. Arthur didn’t so much as twitch. “I’ll do whatever ridiculous chores you assign without complaining!” Merlin offered.

More air into Arthur’s lungs and nothing. Merlin could see Arthur's chest rise with borrowed air, but he showed no sign of recovering. Merlin didn’t even know if what he was doing was making a difference. “Arthur, I won’t even tease you about the dress anymore,” he said in a weak voice. “Please. Please. ”

Merlin forced Arthur’s lungs again and again.

And Finally, miraculously, Arthur gasped.

Merlin froze and reached down to caress Arthur’s cheek in a state of almost-disbelief.

Arthur’s body shook and his chest started to heave. The water… He needed to get the water out.

Merlin rolled Arthur onto his side and Arthur began to vomit and cough up the water that had come so close to taking him away from Merlin. 

Merlin smoothed back Arthurs hair, trying and failing to regain control of his sobbing. Everything felt distant. He rubbed a hand down Arthurs's back, supporting him as water came up in desperate coughs and vomiting lurches. Merlin’s own breath came in gasping sobs. “Arthur. Arthur.” All he could seem to say was Arthur's name. 

With a final heave of Arthur’s body, the last of the water came up. Arthur lay on the ground, gasping up air. Merlin just watched him for a moment and then everything came crashing back all at one. He pulled Arthur into his arms, close enough to feel his continued breathing, and started sobbing harder. The clenching in his chest, his aching heart, the unfathomable ripping pain inside, they all came back as the numbness faded. Then, they started to go away. 

Merlin cradled the back of Arthur's head as he squeezed the other man to himself, desperately listening to him draw air in and exhale it out.

He was alive. He was alive. It had been so close! If Merlin had not had that rush of inspiration… 

Merlin held Arthur against himself and shut his eyes tightly as he ran a hand up and down the other man’s back. He was alive. Merlin’s idea had worked, and he was alive. Goddess, he was alive. Merlin tried to force himself to take deep breaths, to calm down, but calm was not happening. This had been too close.

“M-merlin?” Merlin's pounding heart leapt into his throat at the sound of that voice. He had thought he would never hear it again. Arthur.

“Here,” he managed to keep his voice even. “I just saved your royal ass, again.” His effort to remain calm was ruined as he broke out into renewed sobs as soon as he finished speaking. 

“W-would explain… why I’m no l-longer in the water..” Arthurs tone shifted as he seemed to realize Merlin was sobbing. “Merlin? Crying like...”

“If you tell me I’m crying like a girl, I WILL put you down, Arthur. I don’t want to put you down.” Merlin pulled Arthur even tighter to himself. One hand still cradled the back of Arthur's head as he held him and ran his fingers gently through Arthurs blond hair. He tried and failed to stop his sobs. 

“I can’t stop,” Merlin said, referring to the crying. “You were going to die… I decided if you would not breathe I could make you. I made you breathe… I forced air into you until you started breathing, but if I hadn’t thought of that. If I hadn’t….” Merlin trailed off. “It was too close this time. All these times, it's too close!”

He felt Arthur reach up a hand and touch his face, smoothing the tears with finger. Merlin pressed his head down against Arthur's shoulder as he held him. It figured if one of them would crack due to all the fear and pressure, it would be Merlin. This was not helping anyone, it was not helping Arthur , but Merlin could not seem to stop himself. He really needed to stop himself.

And then, Arthur said the strangest thing Merlin had ever heard him say.

“Sometimes, I wish I could be as emotional as you.” That was it. There was no tease, no taunt to it. It shocked Merlin out of his sobs. 

Arthur didn’t say anything more. And Merlin did not comment on what he said. He could sense Arthur likely did not want him to. It was a deep admission, perhaps from that part of Arthur that was still an injured child beneath all the walls he had been forced to put up. That he trusted Merlin enough to even speak it was a deep gift beyond comparison. And what's more, it helped. Somehow, it helped Merlin to hear it. He started to calm down as he took deep breaths. He continued to run a hand tenderly through Arthur’s wet hair.

Arthur moved a hand to Merlin's own head, slipping his fingers through the dark locks soothingly. 

They clung to each other in the room: the naked prince who had just exposed his heart to the core for perhaps the first time since he was a small child, and the warlock who loved him with all his soul. 

Chapter Text

There was no major damage to Arthur’s lungs, Gaius confirmed before prescribing the prince a few days bedrest. Merlin spent most of the time with him. Uther was due back in a few weeks and so the best thing to do was to make the most of their time. That, and try to plan ahead. 

“Was there anyone else involved in the killings?” Merlin asked Arthur from where he lay on top of the covers next to him. 

“Just the noble who reported the sorcerers first and my father.” Arthur looked away from Merlin. “I don’t know who they were, and besides, she said she cannot switch the curse to anyone else.” 

Arthur looked back to Merlin again and pulled him closer to his side. “You’re next, you know that right?” he said in a low voice. 

“I know.” Merlin met his eyes. 

Arthur reached out to caress Merlin's face, trying for the hundredth time to persuade himself that just because the last attempt on him had come so close did not mean the next one on Merlin would be as severe. 

Arthur leaned forward, pressing his lips against Merlin's for perhaps the tenth time that day so far. Merlin merely closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss. 

Arthur let the worries fade from his mind in favor of focusing on the feel of Merlin’s soft lips against his own, of the warm sunlight that spread though his body from the places they touched. He pulled Merlin closer to himself and leaned further into the kiss, opening his mouth so their tongues could dance. Merlin scooted closer to him to caress his face in return, a calloused hand brushing against Arthur’s cheek.  

When they finally came up for air, they paused to stare into each other's eyes. “It’ll be sad to go back to sneaking kisses when your father and most of the servants and nobles get back,” Merlin sighed. “I’m very much enjoying staying in your room.” 

“You mean going back to sneaking kisses after we take our vacation near a lake,” Arthur corrected.

Merlin smiled. “Oh good, that's still the plan?”

“Of course it is! You think I am ever passing up the chance to shove you in a lake?”

Merlin laughed and then sobered. “We’ll have to be careful though. Someone is bound to tell you father how odd we have been acting.”

Arthur grew serious as well, though he did not say anything. Instead, he watched Merlin.  Drinking in the sight of him, his beautiful cheekbones, strong jawline and dark hair. It was true they would have to be more careful for a bit. Arthur was tired of hiding things, but they had to as long as his father was alive. Uther was already in a bad mood because any time he tried to do something against a magic user they mysteriously escaped. His response to finding out his son was in love with his manservant would be even worse than normal.

“We’ll be careful,” he assured the warlock. “Well, we’ll be careful then . Right now, no one is to disturb my rest, remember? So, if we are quiet…” Arthur trailed off and moved a hand to stroke Merlin’s cheek, a wide grin on his face. Touching Merlin was intoxicating. He felt better afterward—better in ways he hadn’t even known were wrong. Merlin was a miracle—his miracle. Arthur rolled on top of his warlock, gently pressing their noses together. 

Merlin looked up at him incredulously. “You are going to crush me,” he objected while reaching a hand to stroke Arthur’s face in return. “Just so you know, I can’t do chores if I am crushed, so this will be entirely your fault.”

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin, I’m not crushing you.” Arthur leaned down to press his lips against Merlin’s neck after making sure he was, in fact, not actually crushing Merlin.

“You are, and being a girl would have nothing to do with it. You’re crushing me and I demand a reprieve from chores in return,” Merlin told him and then lifted his head from the bed to claim Arthur’s lips.

“Absolutely not,” Arthur broke away and told him before letting Merlin kiss him again. Merlin's soft, perfectly-shaped mouth pressed against his, and Arthur leaned down to inhale the other man. For someone supposedly being crushed, Merlin was very good at kissing. Arthur tilted his head slightly, pressing forward into the kiss.  

Merlin wrapped a hand around the back of Arthur’s head and pulled him closer. Then, abruptly, Merlin rolled, forcing Arthur to roll with him to keep the kiss going. Now on top, Merlin laughed through their locked lips. Then, the warlock pulled back. “There, now you are resting like you should be. You’re welcome.” 

Before Arthur could reply, Merlin’s lips found his neck and he peppered it with kisses. Arthur let out a low moan. “Merlin… Gaius specifically said we’re not allowed to…”

“I know what Gaius said. What does that have to do with me kissing your neck?” His voice was utterly innocent. Then, he went back to the soft, tantalizing kissing that were driving him insane with desire. “This is just unfair,” Arthur moaned again.

“You started it,” Merlin objected and kissed down Arthurs chest.

Arthur locked his arms around Merlin to stop him from getting up to more mischief. Merlin settled in his arms and Arthur held him close, trying not to think about what was likely coming.

And it came before either of them expected it. Arthur woke late on his last day of assigned bedrest feeling just fine. He didn’t expect an attack that day due to the pattern before—the next attack came once someone was fully recovered. It never occurred to him that the pwca would have a different definition of recovered than Gaius. 

“I got the food,” Merlin told him cheerfully as he woke up. “We have one more day before I’m in danger,” he gave as an explanation for leaving to go all the way down to the kitchens. 

Arthur dragged himself out of bed and moved toward the table. He poured himself some water and took a bite of sausage. Bedrest was Gaius's order but he felt fine. He would go back to bed after eating.

Merlin crossed over to the window, opening it to let in light and fresh air.

It happened just as Arthur took another sip of water and it happened so fast. If Arthur had not been looking in the right direction during the instant it appeared, he would not have seen it. He would not have seen the lightning-like energy that zapped through the window and stuck Merlin full in the chest. He would not have seen Merlin thrown back onto the ground as his body twitched.

The goblet of water fell from Arthur's hand as he lunged forward. This was it. This was the attack! Arthur leaned over the fallen warlock. Merlin’s eyes were closed, his limbs still twitching slightly but he was still taking very weak gasps of air. Perhaps it would not be as bad. 

“Merlin!?” Arthur called his name. Merlin did not reply and his gasps were growing fainter. Arthur reached to feel his pulse on instinct and found nothing… No, not nothing. There was the weakest hint of throb, and then much, much too long before another. And then, even longer before the next. Arthur’s heart jumped into his throat, his own breathing coming in panicked hitches. If Merlin’s heart kept on beating like this, or stopped completely, Arthur could do nothing. The fading throbs beneath his hand were a clear death sentence and there was nothing Arthur could do.  

Arthur shook Merlin helplessly. “No. Don’t…” His voice broke. “Merlin, come back,” Arthur begged the limp sorcerer. “Come back!”

And then, Merlin's comment struck his mind. Arthur hadn’t been breathing, so Merlin had made him breathe. Merlin's heart was not beating right so Arthur could make it beat… Couldn’t he? Because Merlin was not allowed to leave him. Not like this… 

Honestly, he had no idea if this would work. Blowing air into someone's lungs seemed much more straightforward than what he was about to attempt. But if he didn’t do something, Merlin was gone and Merlin could not die. Merlin could not die . Arthur needed him. Arthur loved him.

Arthur slammed his hands down onto Merlin's chest, pressing hard and fast in a steady rhythm—desperately trying to get Merlin's heart to work better, to respond and go back to a pattern that equaled life. 

Immediately, he heard a crack and something gave under his hands. Broken ribs then… He had broken Merlin's ribs. Normally, he would be appalled by that, but it was easier to press down now and Arthur just kept going. “I’m sorry,” he gasped through the tears. This was all he could think of, and it had to work, broken ribs or not. 

Merlin did not reply as his limbs stopped twitching and he lay motionless on the ground, eyes shut. Arthur could feel the hot, hot tears fall from his eyes as he pressed harder. He could feel the knot in his own chest, the desperate fear ripping through him. “Don’t die,” he begged. He could not handle a word where Merlin died like this because of him. “Don’t die, don’t let it win, don’t die… This will work, this has to work.” Was he still breathing? Arthur checked, just barley. Should he try to help with that or focus on his heart? He didn’t know, but he was afraid to stop making Merlin's heart beat. Merlin could slip away. 

“Don’t die,” Arthur told him again, begging. “I forbid it! Merlin, don't die. Come back. Merlin, come back! That’s that’s an order!” Merlin was limp beneath the force of his hands. His face was pale, and there was no sign of improvement.

Arthur pressed his hands down harder. “Merlin, no. You need to come back now, you need to come back. Merlin! Merlin! ”

Tears streamed down his face as a horrible choking sound like a sob escaped his throat. He continued to compress Merlin's chest, not even knowing if it was working, not knowing if Merlin was lost to him for good because of his own stupid mistakes. “Merlin… I’m begging you, please.” 

Merlin’s breathing had now faded too, Arthur realized panicking. He bent down, pinched Merlin’s nose,pressed his mouth over Merlins and blew into him as steadily as he could a few times. Merlin’s chest rose in an odd, lopsided way. Arthur went back to pressing his hands down on Merlin’s chest again. “Merlin, please…” He had made the wrong call about the breathing before! He had made the wrong call. Had Merlin just stopped breathing or had Arthur not noticed it for far too long while trying to get his heart to beat? He didn’t know!

“Merlin. Merlin, please! Merlin! I’ll give you an entire week off! Merlin!”

Nothing. Nothing. Perhaps he was not even helping… Hot tears flooded his eyes. Trying to scream his anguish through a throat that would not let him due to pwca’s magic, Arthur slammed a fist down onto Merlin’s chest in despair…

And Merlin came to life! He coughed, gasped, moaned weakly and then coughed again. Arthur looked down at him, wide-eyed, and moved his fingers to his neck. His pulse was normal again. Arthur could feel it as it throbbed reassuringly under his shaking touch. “Merlin.” Arthur reached down and stroked his face, unfathomable relief colliding with frantic worry inside Arthur for the man he loved. “Oh god, Merlin.”

Merlin coughed again, moaned a bit louder and started trembling. Then, his body began to lurch and he gagged. Arthur turned his head to the side just in time for Merlin to vomit up liquid, bile and whatever he had drunk the previous night.

“It’s alright,” Arthur whispered to the shaking warlock. “You’re alright. You are alright. You are going to be alright now. You’re alright” He smoothed black hair back from Merlin’s clammy face. 

Merlin continued to tremble and take gasps of air that ended in whimpers. Arthur pulled him away from where he had thrown up and ran a hand up and down his back as the warlock shook, still laying on his side. “Merlin?” Arthur asked desperately.  Merlin did not respond, he just trembled on the hard stone floor.  

Heart hammering in his throat, Arthur attempted to pull Merlin from the floor and into his arms. He wasn't thinking— only driven by the overwhelming need to keep Merlin from having to have to recover on the cold floor and the desperate need to hold him, to make Merlin’s being alive feel real. 

A sharp moan of pain from Merlin was the result. The warlock winced, his body flinching through the trembles. Right, because Arthur had broken his ribs. “Merlin… Merlin, can you hear me?” Arthur asked  “Merlin, please,” his voice broke.

Merlin’s eyes slowly flickered open. They were bloodshot and watery but they were open. Although slightly dazed, they sought out Arthur’s. Some of the knot in Arthur’s chest came undone. 

“I’m taking you to Gaius.” Arthur tried to keep his voice smooth. “It’s going to be alright. You are going to be alright. I love you.” He scooped Merlin up in his arms as gently and carefully as he could. Merlin's eyes remained riveted on Arthur’s as he shook. Arthur carried him, whispering soft reassurances the entire way to Gaius’s chambers.

Merlin sat slumped against the back of  the chair Arthur had placed him on as Gaius checked him over. He was still shaking. “Two broken ribs,” Gaius concluded, “but his body is reacting as if it went though much more than that. Not much I can do for the ribs. It will take time to heal, though knowing Merlin, not much time.” He handed Merlin a pillow. “Take this pillow and hold it to your chest while you breathe deeply, my boy, and try to sleep sitting up.” 

Merlin just stared at the pillow as if dazed. Gaius pressed it to him. Finally, after much too long, A single trembling arm wrapped around it.

Then, Gaius looked at Arthur, brow raised and face alarmed. “What happened?”

“I can’t say,” Arthur grabbed a chair and moved up next to Merlin, More than anything he wanted, no needed to pull the sorcerer into his arms and just hold him but he couldn’t

“I’ll get something for the pain so he can sleep,” Gaius concluded as he moved to the other part of the room. There was a massive pile of books there from what Arthur guessed was his own research into what could be causing whatever happened to them.

Merlin took deep breaths, holding the pillow. Then, his eyes flashed gold for a moment as he stammered roughly, “Ge hailige.”

Most of the pain receded from Merlin’s eyes, leaving absolute exhaustion as his gaze flicked back to Arthur. There was an invitation in them as they watched Arthur—a wanting.

Arthur obliged, scooting closer and taking deep breaths. He reached a hand out and his fingers found Merlin’s steady pulse. “It’s alright,” he whispered, “it’s alright.” He didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Merlin. His fingers carded through the other man’s hair.

Merlin's head lowered, thudding against Arthur's shoulder, and for a moment Arthur panicked. His pulse!

It was still there, under his fingers, and Arthur could hear him breathing. Slowly, Arthur calmed as he realized the warlock had just fallen asleep. He made sure Merlin was upright as Gaius had recommended and ran a hand tenderly down his back. Perhaps, if he didn’t squeeze him, this would be fine? Because Arthur needed to feel Merlin, to touch him and remind himself that Merlin was alive. He needed a constant reminder right now, that those awful moments with Merlin all but gone from the world were over. He was alright. Merlin would be alright. 

“I love you, you almost… you almost…” Arthur could feel himself breaking down but he hid it as best he could as Gaius came back. 

Gaius, however, took one look at Arthur and gave him what he said was a calming draught. Arthur drank it, but frankly did not feel much of a difference. At least Gaius had the grace to pretend not to notice as Arthur began to shake and tremble, trying the best he could to strangle any sobs before they escaped his throat. 

He spent the night like that, in Gaius’s chambers with his warlock as Merlin slept. By morning,  the sobs had stopped at the very least. But still, Merlin slept. Arthur would stay by his side until he woke, however long it took. 

It took until evening two days later.

“Ar-thur?” Merlin’s voice! Arthur’s heart leapt, giddy that Merlin was talking. He was talking! Arthur gently braced Merlin against his chair and  pulled back so he could see Merlin’s face. 

Merlin took deep breaths against the pillow he held to his chest. As he did so, pain occasionally flickered across his face. But his eyes were no longer bloodshot and he wasn’t as pale or clammy. He looked better and above all: alive. Truly alive.

Arthur tried to weather the overwhelming wave of sheer relief and love that surged through him, threatening to make him break down all over again. “About time you woke up, from your…” he trailed off.  “Just... About time.” 

“What... happened…?” Merlin asked, wincing.

That was asking too much of Arthur. Arthur did not want to even think about Merlin in that state, let alone talk about it, but Merlin deserved an answer. 

“I broke your ribs,” he got out.

Merlin’s look practically screamed a sassy ‘yes I noticed that bit’. “Why?” he asked.

“To make your heart beat right.” Arthur could feel his breathing coming faster. “It wasn’t beating right… or almost at all.” He felt a tear start to run down his cheek but did not want to let go of Merlin to stop it.

Merlin's hand moved shakily to wipe the tear. “Alright,” he told Arthur. He didn’t ask anything else.

But Arthur kept talking. “There was some sort of magical lightning… You were barely breathing… and your heart… so I pressed against your chest to try to make it... But then you stopped breathing. I made that happen too… Tried to hit you in the chest. You woke up… Well, not right away. But you started coughing and your pulse was back... or right… The pulse was right.” He was not explaining this well at all. He was rambling like Merlin. 

“Arthur?” 

Arthur met the eyes of his warlock, dreading any more questions.

“I’m… alright….” Merlin told him instead. Arthur wanted to hold him. He desperately wanted to crush Merlin against his chest and not let go. But he could not do that, not with Merlin’s ribs still healing. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly for a moment. Merlin lifted Arthur’s hands to his neck. “See?”  

Arthur wanted to pull him close more than ever. “I want to hold you,” he admitted.

“Know… the.. feeling,” Merlin admitted. He let out a laugh followed by a moan of pain. “stupid ribs…” 

Arthur leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Merlin’s again

Arthur’s dream of Merlin being dead despite everything he tried faded slowly as a hand shook him. His eyes flew open, seeking the only comfort in the world there was against such a dream—Merlin, blessedly alive. 

Thankfully, Merlin was the one shaking him. Arthur looked up at him as he sat in the chair next to Arthur's bed. The chair that was his new, temporary sleeping place. Arthur’s breathing came harsh and fast. 

“I’m fine,” he told Merlin. “You need to move your chair so you are not right next to me if you don’t want me waking you up.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Did it ever occur to you that I have my chair right next to you so that I can wake you up? OH! And you know what that also lets happen? You waking me up when I have nightmares!” Merlin gave a mock gasp then winced very slightly.

“I am capable of crossing a room to wake you up, Merlin,” Arthur informed his warlock. “And I’m not the one healing.” 

“You just completely ignored the ‘being in a chair next to you so I can wake you up if you need it’ bit of what I said.”

“I don’t need it, Merlin, I’m fine,” Arthur tried to tell his warlock. It might have been more convincing if his hand was not already reaching out for Merlin’s. “I’m not ignoring anything, I'm being reasonable!”

Merlin took his hand and just raised a brow. “And so am I. I’m not going to pretend I don’t notice your nightmares, Arthur.” Merlin’s fingers played with Arthur's hand absently as he held it in his lap.

“You nearly died! It was too close!” Arthur watched Merlin. “And you are still in pain from me breaking your ribs!”

“Only a little pain. Just a bit sore.” Merlin tried to reassure him. “And thank you for saving my life again.”

Arthur watched his sorcerer. He wanted to tell him he would always do anything he could to save him—that Merlin’s life was more precious to him than anything he had ever known—but what he actually said was, “Well, I couldn't have you dying on me. You may be an idiot, Merlin, but you're my idiot.”

From the expression in his eyes, however, Merlin knew what he had meant. He usually knew what Arthur meant. 

Merlin closed his eyes and leaned back against his chair, keeping Arthur's hand in his grasp this time as he fell asleep. “Will be able to go back to the cot tomorrow,” he mumbled.

Arthur tried to fall asleep again but he couldn’t get Merlin’s mention of the cot out of his head. It meant Merlin was nearly healed, which meant the last time would come soon. And he had to make sure the last one was on him and not Merlin. 

If he went now, he might wake Merlin by removing his hand from the other man’s grasp. So Artthur went back to sleep; he would just have to give Merlin the slip tomorrow.

Giving Merlin the slip was harder than he expected. Mostly because Merlin seemed to guess what he was trying to do. The look in his warlock's eyes said he would straight out tackle Arthur to stop him despite his sore ribs. Arthur would win any wrestling that came of that, of course, but he couldn’t do anything to make Merlin stay away and not follow him afterward.

But perhaps he did not need to, as long as he could get to the pwca without Merlin stopping him? If Merlin came afterward, it would be too late. The curse would be shifted to himself! So Arthur bided his time and waited for an opportunity during the day. 

He found it when they went to Gaius, to check that Merlin’s ribs had fully healed. As soon as Gaius took Merlin out of sight, Arthur ran, despite his earlier promises to Merlin not to. 

There was no time to grab cream on the way out if he didn’t want Merlin to try to stop him. Arthur did manage to set any horses Merlin could use in the stable loose, however. He then galloped towards the pwca’s home in the forest before tying his horse up and snaking through the thick trees. Merlin would almost certainly be following him.

He found the pwca sweeping out their cave and moved forward, clearing his throat. The creature turned its golden eyes on Arthur.

“I’ve come to ask you to put the last attempt on me. I don’t have cream.” The pwca gave a supreme exasperated sigh. “Very well I….”  It trailed off as an odd look formed on its face. “Wait… I did not plan this one but it counts.” It tilted its head to the side. “You are too late.”

The words stuck Arthur like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Ice filled his veins. “I’m- Which way! Please, I’m begging you, at least tell me which way!” The pwca shook their head and Arthur ran off at top speed. Merlin would probably have taken the fastest route, wanting to cut him off. The problem was, that was not a path but a vague direction. Arthur ran, listening with all his might.  

Finally, he heard the screams. None sounded like Merlin, but Merlin was Merlin—chances were he was involved in this somehow.

Arthur darted toward the sounds, breaking into a clearing and taking in the scene before him.

Lord Hugh, one of his father’s favorite lords, who came to court often, stood sidelong in front of a group of three people. He was bringing his sword down in an arc towards one of the three,  who looked to be a druid. His other hand held the arm of a figure who dangled to the ground.  Arthur did not have time to see if it was Merlin before he rushed to block the blow with his own blade. 

“Get behind me,” Arthur ordered as he intervened to save the life of one of his unarmed subjects. Facing Lord Hugh, he could see that the figure that half dangled onto the ground was indeed Merlin. Merlin’s eyes were shut and there was an odd mark on his neck that Arthur’s mind refused to put together for now. 

“What did you do to Merlin!? What is this!?” Arthur demanded.

Lord Hugh dropped Merlin, who slumped to the ground. “They are sorcerers, sire.”

Arthur called to those behind him, “Run, get away from here!” They did not hesitate. Arthur guessed their power level was nowhere near Merlin’s as they ran.

The lord stared at him. “I would never have believed it, you are forsaking all your father’s good work! You’ve changed. I remember the prince that was so proud, coming home after cutting down a group of sorcerers I tipped Uther off to just near here.”

Then, realization dawned in the lord's eyes. “But perhaps it's not you. Of course, it all makes sense! I’ve been hearing strange things from the few letters that came though about you being harmed. This boy, your servant, tried to stop me with magic that did not work. I never would have believed it! Him, a sorcerer! He is behind this… I will free you, Prince Arthur. It seems I did not finish the job.” Lord Hugh adjusted his grip on his sword and began to stab downward toward Merlin.

Arthur lunged forward to block the attack just as the man was thrown back. An angry, white haired figure dressed in black—who seemed to have grown sudden claws—had hurtled themselves at the lord.

Arthur did not bother to watch the pwca fight. Instead, he fell to his knees next to Merlin. He could no longer stop his mind from comprehending that mark. It was the sign of a snapped neck. 

Merlin’s body lulled, cold and white as Arthur desperately pulled him to his chest. With one hand, Arthur tried helplessly to support the sorcerer's head, shifting it to a better angle. The other felt for a pulse, knowing what he would find. Nothing. Merlin’s heart was not beating. Merlin was not breathing. Merlin was dead, his body already cold in Arthur’s arms. 

Arthur barely felt the sobs that shook his body as he adjusted Merlin's broken neck back into the right position and held it there futilely. The scream that tore at his throat seemed to come from far away. The roaring pain that felt like a thousand daggers to the chest was starting to consume him. He smoothed black hair back from cold white skin. 

Almost as bad as the knowledge Merlin was gone forever, was the knowledge that it was all his fault. How was he supposed to live through this? How was he supposed to survive with this much pain ripping him apart inside? The world was hollow and terrible and his palace in it no longer mattered. Nothing mattered.

The pwca spoke, though it took a minute for Arthur to even process the words. “You have changed, as you said. So many have tried to lie to me, but you were telling the truth.” 

Arthur looked up at the bloodstained pwca with dull eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It's too late.” Then he seized on one last, desperate hope. “Can you bring him back?”

“No.” 

And with that the last bit of hope, the last thread of interest Arthur had in the world snapped.

“But I can stop suppressing.”

Arthur had no idea what that meant. He was not aware of what the pwca was referring to. What he was aware of was the odd sound that came from Merlin’s neck a moment later and the way Merlin suddenly gasped.

Arthur looked down at his sorcerer, eyes wide. A hand caressed his face, thumb stroking his cheek. The pwca has done something after all! Color and warmth started coming back to Merlin's skin as Arthur held him. 

Arthur rocked him slightly, his eyes riveted on Merlin’s face as he continued to stroke it gently. Every bit of his being focused on the miracle that was Merlin, alive in his arms. After a few shaky breaths of his own and what might have been an eternity, Arthur tore his gaze from Merlin to let out a choked, “Thank you.”

The pwca shook her head. “Never visit me again, you both are exhausting.” And with that she vanished.

Arthur held Merlin closer still, cupping his cheek as his blue eyes opened—those beautiful, beautiful, blue eyes. Arthur let out a strangled sound as they focused on his face and then, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Merlin’s.

Arthur kissed him desperately and tenderly. He kissed him with all the relief that filled his heart and mind. He kissed him knowing that he was likely bawling his eyes out and for once, not caring as long as Merlin was alive and safe in his arms. 

Merlin’s arm wrapped around the back of Arthur’s neck, deepening the kiss. His hand ran though Arthur's sunkissed hair, fingers spreading and caressing.

They inhaled each other, the relief that it was finally over making them giddy. Arthur pulled back first. “It’s over… you’re safe. Merlin, you’re safe!” 

“And you’re safe!” Merlin immediately added, before laughing and pulling Arthur’s head back down so he could kiss him again. After a tender kiss, Merlin met his eyes. “Are you still blaming yourself?” 

Arthur leaned in for another kiss as he thought about it. “Yes and no,” he answered, pulling back. “She brought you back… because she saw I had changed.” Arthur blinked a few times. “WHAT KIND OF IDIOTIC IDEA WAS IN YOUR HEAD WHEN YOU DECIDED TO TRY TO STOP A NOBLE, DESPITE KNOWING YOUR MAGIC HAD FAILED YOU BEFORE! What were you thinking!”

Merlin met his eyes squarely. “I had to save them or try to save them. He was going to kill them! I didn’t think about the magic bit!”

Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously. He really should yell at him more, but he was just too relieved at the moment. He pulled Merlin closer instead. “Of all the stupid…You never think, do you?”

Merlin pulled his head back from where Arthur had pressed it against himself. “And you do!?”

“I happen to be the smart one, Merlin,” Arthur pointed out.

Merlin tilted his head to the side, his tone purse sass as he said, “I think you have us confused.”

Arthur shook his head and laughed. He would let Merlin convince himself of that despite how wrong he was, but only because he wanted to start kissing him again. A future king had to have priorities.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to Merlin’s again. It was over. It was over. They were safe.

Arthur stood before his father as Uther sat on his throne.

“I did do some strange things, working with Merlin to try to draw out and confuse the assassins,“ he told Uther, hands locked behind him as he reported, “but the servants seem to be exaggerating some. Though Merlin was indeed also injured taking some of the blows expected for me.” He put guilt in his expression, his father would expect that. And he was guilty about it. He just hoped he was showing the right amount. Morgana was so much better at this.

Uther looked down at him appraisingly. “Good keep that one close, he seems very loyal. And I am proud of you for not going off on some mad quest to save him or putting yourself at risk trying to protect a mere servant.”

“I will father, thank you,” Arthur told the king. Uther never had to know just how close he would keep Merlin or that Arthur had done exactly what Uther had said when faced with losing him, in a more intense way then his father would ever imagine.

Then, Uther stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I never would have expected Lord Hugh and Sir Amadan to turn against us like this.”

Arthur made his face sad. “Nor I, but it proved what you say,” Arthur tried.

“And what do I say?” Uther looked at him.

“That we have to be careful about trusting people. That you cannot give your trust to anyone completely.”

His father’s brows shot up, then he gave Arthur a self-satisfied smile. “I’m proud of you, Arthur. You are learning.”

“Thank you, father.” Arthur moved to exit the room trailing a finger over a chair’s top before turning back to his father. “I plan to go hunting soon. I need it after all this.”

“You will resume your normal duties otherwise?” 

“Of course, father,” Arthur assured him before leaving.

Merlin met him outside the throne room. Blue eyes like the night sky met Arthur’s, quickly appraising how things had gone with his father. As they walked side by side back toward Arthur's room, Arthur gave Merlin the slightest hint of a nod.

Merlin gave a hint of a nod back to show that he understood. 

Arthur watched him out of the corner of his eyes taking in his black hair, sharp cheekbones and full lips. Since he had come so close to losing him, he did not hold back as much from enjoying the delights of Merlin when he could. That included watching him shamelessly.

“You’re staring,” Merlin reminded him. 

“I am not,” Arthur retorted.

“Yes, you are. You're not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

Arthur looked away as a servant turned the corner ahead of him. He waited until they passed before looking back at Merlin. 

“You have something on your face,” Arthur lied smoothly.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Merlin didn’t sound like he believed him at all.

As they walked up the staircase to Arthur’s room, Arthur spoke again. “It's gone now, but you need to be more careful what you leave on your face. You represent me as my manservant, afterall.”

“In that case, you may want to stop asking me to muck out your stables. Just an idea,” Merlin opened the door to Arthur’s room and walked in without waiting for Arthur.

Arthur followed him. “If you notice, Merlin, I have not asked you to do that particular chore of late. What I do need you to do, instead of making smart comments, is pack for us. I believe we’re going on a hunting trip soon.”

Merlin grinned and moved to the closet. “Are we now?” As Arthur threw himself on the bed, however, he could hear that Merlin had, in fact, not started to pack. He raised his head to see what was going on and found Merlin pausing with a hand halfway to the closet. Then, his sorcerer turned around.

“You said yes and no when I asked you if you were blaming yourself. That means you still are some.” The warlock looked at him with empathetic eyes, head tilted slightly to the side.

Arthur lay his head down on the bed again and spoke. “Nothing will change the fact that this all happened because I killed nine people,” he admitted. “Nothing will change the fact that I’ve done terrible things in the name of my father. It's my responsibility to protect the people of this kingdom and I have not done a good enough job.”

He waited for Merlin to try to comfort him, knowing it would not work. Perhaps Merlin would somehow magically say something that could make him feel better, but Arthur doubted it. The knowledge that magic was not evil had opened up a floodgate of guilt about his past; he didn’t think even Merlin could help him now.

“And how does you hating yourself help them?”

Arthur lifted his head again. “What?”

“You hating and blaming yourself, Arthur. How does that help them? You can’t change what you did. It's like how I’ll always have to wonder if lives could have been saved if I told you about the magic sooner. Or Morgana will always have to ask herself how many people died before she saw there was a better way. We can only do better moving forward.” 

The wisdom that spilled from Merlin’s mouth struck Arthur more than words of comfort ever would have. Merlin was right. He had to do better moving forward. They had all made mistakes. But he had to do better. And that meant…

The truth dawned on him—the truth he was not ready to face. They needed to do something about his father. Merely saving magic users in Camelot from Uther’s ire or stopping the knights from riding out against such people was not enough. Arthur would think about it a bit more during his vacation with Merlin. He would have to. 

For now though, he stood and wrapped his arms around Merlin from behind.

“You are making it hard to pack,” Merlin informed him.

“I know,” Arthur replied. “It’s worth it.”