Merthur: True Love's Kiss

Worrying

Three days had passed since Arthur brought Merlin back to Camelot. And the young man's condition had not improved in the slightest.

"His fever's getting worse Gaius." Gwen sat by the young man's bedside, changing the damp cloth for the fifth or fourth time that hour. Thankfully, the Lady Morgana had allowed her to forsake her duties for a day or so to tend to Merlin, for the noblewoman knew how much Gwen cared for him. Not as a lover, of course, but as a friend - a good, loyal and trustworthy friend.

"Believe me Guinevere, I am trying," Gaius mumbled with his face pressed up against the stack of books he was carrying. With an oomph, he set them down on the table, and fetched his magnifying glass.

"Isn't there something else we can do?" Her voice almost trembled; she was scared, and with reason.

Gaius had tried many, many different remedies over the last few days, but none of them had helped Merlin. Rosemary, ground up wild orchids, numerous healing potions and tonics... His future seemed bleak, to say the least.

The door creaked open slowly and there in the doorway stood Arthur, noticeably less well-dressed now that Merlin was confined to a bed, and his usual air of arrogance dissipated as soon as he walked in. He expected to see his manservant awake at the very least, making jokes and chuckling to himself, but he was met with a very different sight.

"How is he?"

"No better sire," Gaius looked up from his book to address the prince."He woke up this morning, very briefly, but only to mumble some incoherent words before returning to his slumber."

"I see..." He looked pained, almost distraught, but the physician would be damned if he told him that. "And do you know what foul creature attacked him?"

"I regret to say my lord, that too is an uncertainty - but we know one thing for certain."

"Well then do go on, I am listening."

Gaius hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing. "It was a magical beast."

A sudden silence filled the room, and a cold draft seemed to materialise out of nowhere, chilling the occupants. Gwen glanced nervously between the two men and Merlin, who was turning in his sleep. Gaius merely looked at the floor, as if he were somehow ashamed of what he just said. 

It was Arthur who spoke first.

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Well," the physician explained, "for one,  a wild animal would have... Finished young Merlin off, so to speak, after dealing him such a wound. Second of all, no wolf or bear I've ever heard of would be able to deal such damage in one swipe or bite - for it was undoubtedly one blow, and one alone. And finally..." Gaius paused, unsure of himself.

"Yes?" asked Arthur, surprisingly without any hint of impatience or anger in his voice. 

"Well, I think it best you took a look yourself sire." He walked towards Merlin, and Guinevere pulled his blankets down slightly, allowing him to - gingerly - unwrap the young man's bandages to reveal the wound underneath.

The prince's eyes widened in shock and he recoiled at the sight: the slash was festering and oozing green-yellow puss, still bleeding slightly, and the immediate area of skin around it had turned a bruised purple. Combined with the sick stink it gave off, it was enough to make a man retch.

Good thing Arthur always had a strong stomach.

Gaius surveyed his reaction, and resumed his explanation. "This is by no means a normal wound - the only explanation is that the effect was worsened by magic. Of course, I considered the fact that the creature could have been poisonous, but the various tests I conducted on it provided no conclusive--"

"Will he recover?" 

The question leapt out of Arthur's mouth before he could think twice about it, so desperate was he to know Merlin's fate. He couldn't bear the thought of him dying - in a way, it seemed almost absurd. He had taken poison for Arthur for God's sake, and he in turn had saved his life several times; to have it end after being attacked by some unknown beast in the middle of a nameless forest in an insignificant part of the world just seemed... Wrong. 

He looked towards Gaius for reassurance, but the old man could not provide much.

"I am trying my best," was all he said, and returned to his books, skimming the pages, occasionally stopping and reading a small part with his magnifying glass before clicking his teeth and moving on, leaving Arthur looking dejected.

Guinevere took it upon herself to comfort him.

"My lord," she said, rising from beside the bed, "I am sure Merlin will get better - it'll just take a little longer than expected, that's all."

"Mm." He looked unconvinced, letting himself gaze on the feverish boy, saying no more.

"Have some faith in him," she started again, determined to cheer him up even the slightest bit. "He's tougher than he looks, and besides, he's been through worse. He'll get through this!"

"I suppose so..." Arthur raised his head to look at Morgana's serving girl: she was pretty, that was a fact, some might say she was beautiful. With chocolate brown eyes and small dimples on her olive brown skin, she smiled warmly at him, sunlight illuminating her face. But Arthur's attention was not on her looks, but on the sickly pale man she was nursing, who whimpered in his sleep and shivered as he fought the fever.