Loyalty and Hope

The fire crackled and sputtered in the fireplace. The flames forming a beautiful dance of light on Merlin's face as he sat in the chair. His eyes were unfocused as if he was lost in the memories, but there was clear distress on his face. His hands gripped so tight on the armrests that they were white. His whole body tensed and shrunk in on itself. He looked so damn scared.
And there was nothing Arthur could do. Whenever he did, Merlin's magic flared and threw Arthur across the room like he was a mere rag doll.

It frustrated him to no ends. This happened at least thrice a week and had been going on ever since they got Merlin back, and it had been almost 2 months now. His hope of Merlin ever going back to normal was dwindling as each day wore on.

Though he supposed Merlin had every right to act as he did.

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Considering how he looked now compared to when they found him, he looked like the healthiest man alive. He could still remember seeing Merlin lying down, as thin as a stick, with wounds littering his body, and bruises covering him wherever his skin was whole. He looked like a canvas with splatters of red, green and purple.

The battle raged on around him as he retrieved his sword from his opponent's body. He could barely draw a breath before another one attacked him from behind. He twirled around and parried the sword that was about to hit his abdomen. He waited to parry the next swing, then swung to the right and drove his sword through the man's stomach. His foe barely even had time to react before Arthur thrust his sword forward once more and ended his life.

He quickly scanned to see how the others were holding up. They all fought with the fierceness of a thousand warriors. He decided they could hold their own and turned around to continue down the stairs. He stumbled clumsily down the stairs in his haste. As soon as he hit the bottom, he righted himself up and continued running through the long corridor. After a few meters, it expanded and revealed lots of small rooms with bars in front of them. Cells.

His eyes roved from side to side as he looked for any sign of his husband. There was another door at the end of the hall. He went over to it and slowly opened it. Manacles were hanging from the walls, and various contraptions littered all over the place.

He shuddered. It was a torture chamber. His eyes searched the floor, hoping his husband wasn't here. The thought made a chill run down his spine.
In the furthermost corner of the room, he saw a slumped figure. He slowly made his way towards it and crouched down.

The figure had black hair and big ears. And he was thin. Oh Gods, so thin. Arthur shakily reached a hand forward and put his middle and index finger on the man's neck. There was no reaction from him. That didn't help to calm him. He held his fingers there for a few seconds and felt nothing. No steady thumping from the man's heart. He was too late...

No, wait! There was a slight fluttering, a careful rhythmic beat. He jumped into action after that. He carefully stuck his hand under his lover's back and his legs. He lifted himself and Merlin and rested his head towards his chest. He left the room and went up the stairs again.

What met him when he came back was the sight of all the mercenaries laying on the ground, and his knights standing around him, hope on their faces.
"Just leave them here. We must get back to Camelot. Merlin needs a physician."

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The first few nights were riddled with nightmares for both. Merlin would wake up screaming and thrashing, eyes flaring gold like his magic was trying to protect him. Arthur would relive the moment he found Merlin, but most of the times it was already too late.