Mostly because dead people don't talk back

11: Closed Eyes

Death is cold, Merlin finds out, as a general rule of thumb. It makes sense, in a way, as life has energy, light, and warmth. Cold is just a lack of heat, just as the dark is the lack of light, after all.

.oOo.

The limp body of Merlin is placed nearest to the fire pit in hope it would warm him. He isn't dead, yet, and the men with him would fight (read: demolish) anything to make sure Merlin wouldn't have to.

Lance cares for him, joined by Gwaine— who, alone in the group, is much sadder and happier than the rest. It's a mixture of long gazes into the distance and genuine smiles and jokes. Lance doesn't know the reasons, but he doesn't question Gwaine's reactions either.

"We have to get him back to Gaius." Arthur starts, knowing that they must help him or leave Merlin behind for him to live. Arthur was going to lead them to the best of his ability even while his best friend was dying, or long dead.

He's afraid to ask, to think about Merlin's fate, to continue forward without him. But he continues anyway, as it's the only thing he can do. [What he was raised to do.]

Leon, loyal Leon, asks, "And abandon the quest?"

The knight has been befuddled with the torment of Morgana being back, of these spirits of the dead, and the bump of a concussion on the back of his head for days. Leon had been the first one to know, and he's seen her face to face. What agony has been wrought upon him? What pain has he endured to be here on this quest?

Yet, Leon was sworn to serve the king. He did not want to abandon the quest, but would do so for Arthur.

"He saved my life," Arthur gives as an answer. Merlin had saved him, just as he had with the poison long ago, with the various stunts in between, and more. Merlin was a brave, idiotic servant and— "I won't let him die."

"Sire, if we don't get to the Isle of the Blessed, hundreds more will perish."

There's a glance back at Merlin, at the frozen body of the manservant who was too brave, too stupid, and too wize for his own good.

.oOo.

Merlin, in his dreams, saw his tree grow saplings.

The saplings stretched upwards and stopped when the brightness of the sky was too bright.

It was as white as snow. It was white flames.
Fire, freezing cold.

It was blinding.

.oOo.

"Let me take him." Oh, Lancelot, another dear friend.

Gwaine, hearing this, stares directly at the knight and whispers "no", desperate. He doesn't know, does he, that Merlin would be fine? He doesn't know.

Lance's eyebrows twitch in reaction to the "no", inherent confusion flickering on his face. Oh, yeah. He definitely doesn't know. It's just like Merlin to keep secrets from his dearest friends, even the ones he had told big secrets to before.

"Carrying a wounded man alone, it will take you two or three days to reach Camelot." Arthur contested, almost giving Gwaine an in to agree.

"Not if I go through the Valley of the Fallen Kings." Gwaine nearly yelled at that, wanting to scream: No! We need Merlin! He'll be alright! But he clenched his teeth instead.

Also, Lance was smart and dumb at the same time for saying that. Go through the Valley of the Fallen Kings? Really? There were bandits! And, it is the...oh. Wait— that's actually kinda smart. It is the most magical area of the forest between here and Camelot.

"You cannot give up on the quest."

"Sire, he's right." The loyal knight concurred.

.oOo.