Chapter Text
“You really need that specific sword?” Merlin complains, “You have at least three of them and that’s the only one I haven’t had the chance to sharpen yet.”
“No, Merlin. I told you to go get that sword because I could use any one I like.” Arthur responds as he snitches a grape off his lunch tray that Merlin just left on the dining table.
Merlin presses his lips together and tilts his head. After all the years together, it’s easy enough for Arthur to understand what Merlin isn’t saying. Namely that he thinks Arthur is being a giant prat just for the sake of rubbing Merlin the wrong way. Arthur smiles back with his signature ‘I’m messing with you’ face, making Merlin heave a sigh. Gwen once said that watching the two of them together was like watching five year old children and an elderly married couple. They both get too much enjoyment out of irritating the other, but also know each other so well that they can have an entire conversation in looks.
“Fine. I’ll be back. Is there anything else I can get you while I’m out, Sire?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something by the time you get back.” Arthur says airily, evil grin still in place.
Merlin smiles his insincere smile that he uses whenever he needs to let Arthur know he is obeying under protest, then heads for the door. The corridor outside of Arthur’s room is mostly empty at this time of day. Servants all have duties elsewhere in the castle, Uther is off doing whatever kings do when they don’t have council meetings, and Morgana is lurking somewhere plotting. A few guards mill around to keep an eye on things and Merlin offers them a wave as he walks by. They rotate too often for him to be able to tell them apart, especially when they wear those helmets, but he still likes to be friendly with them. It makes them more inclined to look the other way if they see him sneaking about late at night.
The armory is on the other side of the castle, and it takes Merlin nearly five minutes to reach it. It takes him another two to locate the sword still sitting neatly in its slot on the rack waiting to be sharpened. He grabs it, Arthur’s second best chainmail, and his third best gambeson that never gets worn because there’s a large hole in it and also is slightly too small. Arthur has never really expected Merlin to repair it, but he’s in a mood today and Merlin is determined not to give him excuses to send him on wild goose chases all over creation. Besides, dumping this lot on Arthur’s bed is bound to annoy him. It will give Merlin a little revenge.
It takes him a little longer to return, weighed down as he is with all the items. The chainmail is heavy as is the sword, but it isn’t any more weight than Merlin is used to carrying. It’s just that all three items are awkwardly shaped and are usually only taken to Arthur’s chambers one at a time.
He nearly drops Arthur’s sword on the steps up into the corridor outside his chambers, and one of the guards stifles a snort. Merlin just grins at him, used to looking ridiculous in his attempts to follow Arthur’s orders. He manages to get everything balanced in his arms once more, walks over to Arthur’s door, and nudges it open with his hip.
“I’ve got your sword, Sire!” he calls out as he enters, “I also thought to retrieve your chainmail and gambeson.”
He staggers over to the bed and dumps the lot of it onto Arthur’s covers. There is no reaction from Arthur. That isn’t right. Arthur is meant to say Merlin’s name with the extra emphasis on the first syllable to express his displeasure.
Merlin frowns and turns to look at Arthur. His head is tilted against the back of the chair and his eyes are closed.
“Arthur?” Merlin calls out, heart pounding heavily in his chest. He creeps closer and shakes Arthur’s shoulder, trying to wake him. No such luck. “Arthur!”
Arthur sucks in a shallow rattling breath, hands tightening briefly on the arms of his chair before releasing. He takes another breath, shallower than the one before it.
Lessons from Gaius floods Merlin’s mind. His first thought is that Arthur is choking on something, but he dismisses it because Arthur is breathing and there’s no indication of panic as he tried to dislodge it himself. He leans in and sniffs Arthur’s breath and there is a distinct unnaturally smell. Poison.
He reacts without thinking and rushes into the hallway. The guards all look up as he bursts out of the room, but Merlin doesn’t wait for them to ask him what’s wrong. He just shouts, “Get Gaius! The prince has been poisoned!”
The guards flee from their posts, all of them shouting at other guards they come across to find Gaius. Merlin turns back around and runs back into Arthur’s room. Arthur hasn’t moved from his chair and is still gasping for breath. He remembers vaguely Gaius once telling a patient to drink water to try to flush something from their system, and grabs the water jug. He sniffs it experimentally and finds no trace of that sweet smell. It’s also as full as it was when Merlin left it, which means whatever Arthur ate that was poisoned, it wasn’t this.
He pours the water into an empty cup and wraps his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. Propping him up like this is awkward, and Merlin’s muscles are already protesting the position but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is getting the water down Arthur’s throat.
Time loses all meaning. It could have been hours between his alert and Gaius bursting in, or it could have been seconds. He can’t tell. He just holds the edge of the cup to Arthur’s lips over and over, forcing him to swallow it even when he becomes too incoherent to listen to Merlin’s suggestions. Water trickles over Arthur’s chin and dampens the front of his tunic. He finishes off another goblet, and Merlin gives him a moment to breathe before he comes back with another cup. Arthur’s face is pale, his lips nearly white, little prickles of sweat dampen the hair falling across his forehead. Merlin forces himself to ignore it. If he gets caught up in the fact that Arthur is dying, he’ll lose focus.
Finally Gaius hurries into the room as quickly as his aching joints allow and asks, “What happened?”
“I left to get his sword from the armory. When I got back he was like this. There was a sweet smell on his breath so I thought it was poison and started pouring water down him.” Merlin answers breathlessly.
“That is an excellent first instinct.” Gaius praises and waves his hands at Merlin, “I need you to move. I have a potion that should slow the spread of the poison so we can create an antidote. Start looking for what he ate.”
Merlin nods and pulls himself away from Arthur’s side. If there is anyone who can save him it’s Gaius. He takes a steadying breath, and makes himself think. He starts with the grapes, it was the last thing he saw Arthur eat before he left to go get the sword from the armory. He presses the bunch close to his nose and sniffs, but they just smell like grapes. He searches the table for anything else Arthur might have consumed, and spots a bite taken out of the roll. Merlin doesn’t know how someone would have gotten a poison in there, but he can’t rule anything out with Arthur’s life on the line. He sniffs it and his nose wrinkles at the smell. Overpoweringly sweet. How Arthur missed it will always be a mystery.
“Found it!” he gasps at Gaius and holds it out.
Gaius stops pouring the concoction down Arthur’s throat and takes it. He repeats the same process Merlin did, nose wrinkle included. Then his face drops.
“Oh no.” Merlin says, “I know that look. It’s magic isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so. It seems like whoever it was used some of the powdered rat poison and enchanted it to make it more effective, much like your ordeal with the Morteus Flower.”
The door bursts open again to admit Uther and Morgana. Uther looks thunderous, Morgana looks perfectly concerned, and Merlin has a sinking feeling in his stomach. There is only one sorcerer in this castle who has had it out for Arthur and has the opportunity to poison his food.
“What has happened to my son?” Uther demands.
“He was poisoned, Sire.” Gaius answers, “I have the poisoned roll right here, and I will start on the antidote immediately.”
“Who could have done this?”
“My lord,” Morgana speaks up, eyes wide and eyebrows crinkled with concern, “I don’t wish to speak out of turn…”
“But you have some idea who could have done this?”
“There is only one person in the entire castle who is close enough to Arthur to be able to poison Arthur’s food without having to poison all of us to get to him.”
The sinking feeling worsens. There is no doubt now that Morgana was the one to poison Arthur, and it seems like she is going to take Merlin down for her crimes. She kills two birds with one stone this way, gets Arthur out of her way for the throne and prevents Merlin from interfering with her plans again. It’s sort of genius. Merlin will give her that.
“Who?” Uther demands.
“Merlin, My Lord.”
Uther’s eyes fix on Merlin and Merlin draws himself to his full height, just slightly taller than Uther just as he is slightly taller than Arthur, and says, “I would never harm the prince. You know that.”
“I know nothing for certain. A servant’s mind can be easily swayed with the right price.” Uther says darkly and gestures at the guards, “Take him to the dungeons awaiting execution.”
Everything after that is a bit of a blur. There are guards on him, he is dragged, Arthur is still gasping, but right before the guards pull him out of the room for good he sees Morgana’s face. Her red painted lips curl up in a smug smile as she spots him, and Merlin glares back at her. There is no misunderstanding the looks between them for anything other than acknowledgement.
The dungeons are exactly the same as they were the last time Merlin was thrown in a cell. The straw is a bit moldy, the stone is damp. The only light comes in from the window high up in his cell, and it’s the only way he can keep track of how much time has passed.
Just after the sun has fully set, footsteps echo against the stone corridor outside his cell. They are too light to be a guard’s and too quick to be Morgana coming down to gloat at him. He rolls off the straw pallet in the corner and wanders up to the bars of the cell.
“Gwen!” he exclaims, relief flooding his system.
She keeps a stern look on her face as she approaches and a moment later a guard joins her in the passageway. She fixes her firm look on the guard and raises her eyebrows, “Open the door. The prisoner is to be allowed a final meal before his execution.”
The guard shoves the key into the lock and Gwen steps inside, bearing a tray with a stale hunk of bread and a cup of water. For a moment, the guard hovers near the door, but another look from Gwen has him closing the door behind her and muttering, “Call when you need me to let you out.”
Once the guard is out of earshot, Gwen sets the tray down and pulls Merlin into a tight hug that he returns. The familiar smell of her soap calms him down better than anything he’s down in the last few hours to keep the panic at bay. With Gwen here all will be well. The two of them have never had a scheme fail them. Well, except for that time with Lancelot, but Merlin doesn’t count that because it was mostly his idea.
“Are you alright?” she asks as she pulls away, “What happened? All anyone will tell me is that you poisoned Arthur.”
“I didn’t.” Merlin insists even though he knows Gwen doesn’t believe a word of it.
“I know. Arthur is your friend, you’d never hurt him.”
“Someone poisoned him, and there is only one person in the castle who wishes him harm.”
“Morgana.”
“Exactly.”
“But why would she poison Arthur? It’s risky and could get back to her.”
“She was careful. She poisoned his food, and I’m the only who has access to his lunch tray. Anyone else would have had to poison all three of them to get to Arthur.”
Gwen squeezes one of his hands in hers, firm and comforting, “We need to find a way to clear your name.”
“That’s less important than saving Arthur. Have you spoken to Gaius?”
“No. Morgana has had me at her beck and call all day, claiming she was too worried about Arthur to be left alone. I’m only free now because she had dinner with the King.”
Merlin scowls and squeezes Gwen’s hand in return, “She did it on purpose. She knew the first thing you would do would be to help Gaius, she knows how much you and Arthur love each other. She’s already used that fact against you once.”
“I’ll go to Gaius now.” Gwen swears, “Uther is furious, he won’t let her out of his sight for ages yet.”
“Go. Tell him to heal Arthur no matter what it takes.”
“Gaius won’t hold anything back, he adores Arthur.”
Merlin rests his hands on Gwen’s shoulders and looks her in the eye, “It’s very important that you tell Gaius that he can do whatever it takes.”
Gwen nods, clearly confused but determined to help.
If Gwen finds out about his magic, then so be it. He isn’t going to let Arthur die just to save his own neck. If he can trust anyone with is secret, it has to be Gwen. She isn’t nearly so blinded by hatred like others in Camelot, she might not trust him after but he doubts she’ll turn him in, especially when he saves Arthur.
Gwen calls for the guard to let her out, and she disappears into the hall once more. Merlin is alone in his cell once more.
Without the passage of daylight, it’s hard to tell how much time has passed. He spends the time pacing around and around his cell. He hates this. He’s never had to sit back and hope that Arthur turns out alright, he’s always been in the thick of it. He’s always been the one furiously flipping through the pages of books in search of just the right solution to the problem. Stuck as he is now, he feels utterly useless.
Sometime later a note is slid through the window of his cell. Either Gaius or Gwen must have dropped by. He unwraps the note carefully and something solid clatters to the floor. When he picks it up, he realizes it’s a key to the cell.
The note is in Gaius’s handwriting and reads:
Cloak waiting for you in the armory. Guards asleep. Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ.
He recognizes the last bit as a spell, and he can only assume that it’s for healing. He ticks the note into his pocket and leans up against the bars of his cell. The rotation through the cells is nearly finished. All he has to do is wait until the last guard returns to the dice game.
Once he is certain the passage is clear, he slides his arm through the bars and inserts the key into the lock. He eases the door open and steps out into the hall. From there it’s a quick shot to the top of the stairs. Sure enough, all the guards are sound asleep. The wine jug in front of them is nearly empty. Gwen must have snuck a sleeping draught into it.
Getting to the armory takes some work. The number of guards has increased, probably because Uther was worried about someone coming back to finish the job. He darts between the shadows as silently as possible and sneaks into the armory. There is a ratty old cloak waiting for him, and when he puts it on it smells funny. He vaguely recognizes it from Gaius’s cupboard at home.
From there he sneaks into the castle.
It provides a whole new set of challenges. There are more guards and fewer hiding places, and Merlin nearly gets caught twice on his way up. He reaches the last set of stairs before Arthur’s corridor and finds his way blocked by a whole slew of guards. There is no way by them. Not without magic. He opens his mouth, prepared to cast a sleep spell when Gwen appears like an angel out of nowhere and grabs one of the guards by his arm.
“Please! I think I saw someone suspicious!” she cries, sounding genuinely terrified.
It takes a few more seconds of terrified babbling, then all of the guards relent and agree to follow Gwen. They pass right by his hiding place, and Merlin sends her a grateful smile from under the hood of the cloak. She inclines her head without looking at him, but he knows she saw.
He runs up the stairs and bursts into Arthur’s corridor. The two men stationed outside his room are sound asleep as well, and Merlin breathes a sigh of relief. Gwen must have dosed these ones after dosing the guards down stairs. He is incredibly grateful for her ability to adapt to changes so quickly.
He pushes his way into Arthur’s room. He is asleep in the bed, breathing more labored than it was the last time Merlin saw him. Gaius’s potion to stop the spread must not have done as much as he hoped. Merlin shoves the hood back and runs to Arthur’s side. His hand is icy cold when Merlin picks it up. He once more ignores the panic trying to force itself into his mind. If he’s going to do this, he needs his wits about him.
“Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ.” He murmurs to no effect.
Panicked tears prickle his eyes and he tries to blink them away, but they fall anyway. He closes his eyes and digs deep down inside himself, finds the part of his magic that has always tethered him to the Earth, and shouts “Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!” meaning it more than he has ever meant anything in his entire life.
He feels his magic leave him and wend its way through Arthur’s body. It spreads along his veins, burning away the poison in its wake and repairing the damage that it caused. Arthur jerks in his grasp and sucks in a deep clear breath.
Merlin’s eyes fly open in surprise, even as the magic continues to spread, and he grins at Arthur’s confused expression, “Arthur!”
Arthur blinks at him and groans softly then mumbles, “Oh god damn it. Your eyes.”
Well, no hiding the magic now.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”
“I was really hoping I was wrong about you, Merlin.” Arthur responds and chuckles a little.
“You knew?”
Arthur shakes his head, but it’s more like rocking it back and forth on the pillow, “Suspected. You were strange from the beginning so that explained most of it, but not all.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Hard to be when you just saved my life. Again.”
Merlin laughs wetly, tears brimming in his eyes for an entirely different reason, “Never do this to me again.”
Arthur snorts and as the last of the spell burns through his veins he says, “You have my word.”
For a moment, Merlin thinks there might be a sort of silvery glow, but dismisses it as a trick of the light.