Where Legends Begin

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Merlin doesn't really notice that Arthur is seeking her out. She's simply glad that she sees him more often as the devotion - and she's figured out that it IS that - she feels to him has only grown. She often checks on him without his even knowing and Merlin no longer feels strange about doing it. She finally understands that while Arthur is not her brother and certainly not lover and only just now her friend, when she thinks of him as hers, he need be none of those things. He's her Prince and she's devoted to him, will protect him and be whatever he needs of her simply because...it's what she's supposed to do. She still doesn't know WHY, but she also know it will come to her and there is no use pulling her hair out about it. That's a lesson she's learned many times over.

Instead she focuses on her work and lets her side heal. She tries to remember to eat with varied success and she keeps a careful eye on Morgana when she can. She treats the cold that the King catches and a cough in the Queen and she goes about her life. In the back of her mind, Merlin knows the peace won't last. Any day she knows the raven bearing the scroll from King Lot will come and her life will be thrown into turmoil, but for now...Merlin is happy.

She's come a long way since Camiliard and finally she's starting to view Camelot as a potential home. It's a nice feeling. And so is the horse under her. Merlin never thought she'd think that, but now that she's learned to ride adequately, the freedom of the experience is invigorating and she finds that she's coming to love it. Cobalt is now hers until the day she leaves Camelot and he responds to her amazingly now that they understand one another. Merlin is also grateful to get out of a dress and once more she looks over at Guinevere, IN a dress, and chuckles, earning a grin from the auburn-haired Lady and a tongue sticking out childishly.

Both women laugh and when they reach open plains, they both take off as if an invisible signal has been given, keeping pace with each other. Merlin is glad Guinevere is back as she provides good female company and Guinevere....well, she is glad to be back in her second home....and even more so to see the friendship that has developed so wonderfully in her absence. She'd known those two would be good for each other if they could only overcome their pride. She doesn't miss how the two seem to keep any eye on each other, nor how a few of the Knights watch Arthur AND Merlin. The healer has made herself some friends. Good.

Guinevere smiles as they enter the treeline and then calls over to Arthur. "Your Highness, my brother, what predictions do you make for the hunt today?" It's a game long-standing between them; to see who can guess most accurately what they will catch.
 
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Arthur has on a gray colored cape, easily molding to his body, the length draping down over his saddle. Since it's now practically wintertime, a weak blanket of snow sprinkled on the ground, Arthur thinks of the animals they would see at this time of season. Thinking on it for a shorter period of time, Arthur smiles to his dear friend Guinevere. Since she has come, he has spent less time "checking up" on Merlin and more time simply sitting in the gardens or out in the courtyard with Guinevere. All the kingdom knows how close they are, their kisses a sign of devotion to one another but not love. Some think they hear wedding bells but others believe that Arthur shall pick another bride for Guinevere and him are simply too accustomed to being close friends to be lovers.

"It's high in the time of hibernation, Guinevere. Most of the larger game have hidden themselves away from the chilly winter elements. Frost is not friendly to those creatures and thus they must scurry underground and feel the heat from underneath their own feet in order to survive. If I had to guess our kill of the day, I could only go with a winter doe or even perhaps an elk if we are so lucky. I doubt us finding such a catch in such elements. But, as you well know, winter has a way of masking all and every creature. The rabbits have gone deep within their holes by this time. What say you, Guin?" Arthur, smiling away, figures that she will simply agree with his predictions and when she is done, Arthur is the one to turn to Merlin. "And you?"

The knights around them all smile or smirk, adoring the game that the royals play. Sir Bors is happy to see Arthur including Merlin for the boy, he is well aware, has a nasty habit for having a one tracked mind at times. When they're at dinner, Arthur simply starts a conversation and doesn't leave it until he is rightfully satisfied at the conclusion. He can spend the whole night talking to one Lord or Lady, not caring for anyone or anything else. Sir Bors has witnessed such events with a smirk. Arthur needs to change his ways and become more observant if he is to be a King. But, alas, his powers at observation have never quite been his strong point. Arthur is a stiff individual when he requires the need to be a bit more... flexible with himself. Such potential will arrive in the years to come. As King, Bors figures, Arthur will learn to always have one eye open to the world around him.
 
Guinevere laughs and nods, more than satisfied with his answer and she looks back with a smile. "It shall be as you say, my Prince, I am sure." It's only half-teasing in the spirit of the game and the auburn-haired woman looks to Merlin as well at Arthur's question, curious. They don't know much about Merlin she's coming to find and while the dark-haired woman is not secretive in the traditional sense of the word, she does have a knack for telling you many things and yet nothing at all. She gives you no reason to suspect she's hiding anything but then when you look at all she has told you in an objective light, one starts to realize they really know very little about the healer. Therefore, her answers are usually surprising even as you feel they shouldn't be and such a complex thing intrigues Guinevere.

For the question, Merlin looks a bit surprised, but the most mischievous smile comes over her face that Guinevere finds herself looking between the healer and Arthur, a smile at her own lips. Still, even she is somewhat startled but Merlin's answer. "Oh, you don't want to ask me about that. See, I tend to cheat." She laughs and looks to Guinevere when the Lady speaks up, frowning slightly.

"How can one cheat at a guessing game such as this?"

"I could tell you every animal around for the next three miles if I wanted to."

"How?"

Merlin only smirks gently, playfully and her dark eyes flash with the tiniest sparkle of gold before she speaks. "Do you think my power only good for healing?" Guinevere doesn't have the time to respond to that revelation as the hounds start to bay and everyone grows alert and focused on the hunt at hand. It's a stag that leaps away up ahead and like that the hunt is off and all conversation put on hold.
 
"That, Merlin, is quite the feat to be boasting about," Arthur lightly adds, a brow raising in jest for even Arthur finds himself believing her yet still wanting to know if such words are true. The rational side of him knows that Merlin is no ordinary woman and her power is nothing to be a fool with yet he wants to know. Then he thinks of the marrow she talked about and the Prince immediately becomes quite protective of Merlin, his tone changing to be quite serious. But before he can even utter a word, the hounds start to chase after their prey, the knights barking orders just as firmly to follow the pack of leaping dogs. "Proceed!" Arthur yells, digging his heels into his own steed before they're bounding off once more.

Low branches threaten to smack the Prince over the head but he quickly ducks out of the way, his body moving from side to side but his feet sternly placed in the stirrups. "Ready yourselves, men!" Comes his shouting, a quick glance to his left and to his right to make sure the ladies can keep up with the band of galloping horses. The stag will run as fast and as far as he may but the knights will catch him one way or another. The archers who have come along ready their bows in one hand, the other tightly grasping the reigns. Without Arthur's signal they know if they have a shot, they better take that shot or else they'll regret it. The Prince only wants dinner on the table, he doesn't care as to who brings it there. All of their arrows have a special tail pattern to them, bright feathers signaling who exactly killed what.

Arthur, however, doesn't have a bow with him. Instead, he has his trusty sword at his side. It glints in the sunlight but won't come at all handy when pursuing a quick Elk through the forests of Camelot. If Merlin were to ask Guinevere, she might tell her the answer to why Arthur, out of all the men present, doesn't wish to carry a bow. Is it his cockiness coming back to light? Does Arthur really want all the other men to have to do all the work only so he can feast on the latest kill and, no doubt in anyones mind, receive credits for doing so?
 
Merlin has never been part of a hunt before and she finds that it is chaotic, but thrilling business. She stays close to Guinevere who has done this many times over and the Lady is sure to keep an eye on the healer as a friend might. Merlin carries a bow, but she knows she won't use it on horseback. She doesn't have any training in such a thing and would only be a danger to those around her, but she doesn't like being without a weapon either and knows that is she is truly in danger, she can leap from Cobalt's back and use her bow and arrows then. Speaking of which, though...why doesn't Arthur have one? He can't actually expect to kill anything with a sword on a HUNT, right?

The brunette frowns at the thought, eyes narrowed in suspicious thought and when it finally comes to her, she feels like laughing. Oh, so the Prince is not perfect after all. Good to know. Perhaps it could have been just arrogance that made Arthur not bring a bow, but Merlin doesn't think so. Arthur loves combat. He loves the thrill of adrenaline. He likes the sport if the expression on his face is anything to go by and he's not squeamish about death. No, he merely doesn't know how to use the bow and it's as simple as that. Well....she'll have to do something about that.

But first...

The stag is darting here and there on its mad dash to escape the nipping hounds at its hooves, but they are closing in and finally an archer takes aim and the stag is shot straight and true in the heart. It takes one more leap before collapsing and the hounds are quickly called off the dead body by their handlers who feed them their treats as the Knights circle around the kill. It's decided quickly who will stay and take care of the deer and who will go on to hunt further.

The smaller group is off again soon, but they don't spot anything nearly so quickly this time and for a time there is simply friendly banter and discussion as the hounds scent ahead of them. Suddenly there is a great racket of baying, but while there is excitement in the sound, it is frenzied, frantic and scared excitement from the dogs and Merlin feels the hairs on her body rise in warning. There is little time to react, however, as something large comes crashing through the forest, the hounds barking and snapping at its hide like nipping wind against the mountain. The large brown bear, a giant of its species really, roars his anger as he thunders into the clearing.

The horses squeal and rear in fright - and rightly so - and Merlin finds herself, the least experienced here, flying from the saddle to the ground, hitting the ground hard and rolling. She's been thrown clear of the trampling hooves of the other horses, but into a far more dangerous position nearer to the bear and when it sees her, it roars again, making Merlin's eyes widen with a frightened kind of awe.
 
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"Your Highness!" comes a shout, the bear immediately feeling quite threatened by the barking of the small dogs. The massive brown bear stands up on his hind legs, his snout rippling with another loud roar. It's dark brown fur is wet with a recent dive into a nearby stream for a chilling swim in the rapids. Streams hardly freeze around rushing water and therefore the bears can grab breakfast, lunch, and dinner by its edge. Forty-two teeth line the strong jaw of the bear, another long growl emitting into the air. Arthur, pulling out his sword immediately after the fierce beast shows himself, takes aim and digs his heels into his steed. The two of them ride past the bear in a fearless frenzy, taking his attention away from Merlin's fallen body. "No!" Another knight shouts, knowing what exactly Arthur is trying to do.

With another pass, Arthur quickly pulls the reigns to one side, the bone, muscle, and flesh underneath him responding within a quick second to his orders. The two of them whirl around the bear, Arthur's sword slicing into the beasts' arm. The long neck extends and the bear shouts towards the heavens. Arthur, feeling quite confident, knows that his steed won't fear this beast as long as his weight is upon his back. Within another two passes, the bear has been sliced again. But around the third one, Arthur isn't so lucky. The large paw of the creature bears down upon him, ripping his shoulder in three deep slices, sending the rider flying into the brush.

Arthur, ordering the other men to take Guinevere far away from this encounter, stands with both hands gripping his longsword. Even with his bloodied shoulder, Arthur manages to limp his way over to Merlin, the bear having none of this. The Eurasian brown bear stands even taller before Arthur, paws slicing around just to show his strength. Arthur, on the other hand, swings his sword around, the bloody steel glinting around in the afternoon sun. "Heed my warning creature!" The Prince fearlessly shouts at the bear, holding his sword before him, a battle stance ready to protect Merlin at all costs, her head spinning from such a fall, "Leave and you will survive but if you stay, you will become a heap of dead meat before me. Do you understand!?" Arthur's words are forceful, his arm stinging to all hell but he hardly notices for his mind is stuck on saving Merlin from a likely doom.
 
A deafening roar answers his shout and Merlin's head finally starts to stop spinning, giving her some clarity. Her body aches and she can readily feel that she's badly sprained her ankle and her ribs feel deeply bruises, but nothing is broken. Blood trickles down past her temple and to her chin, but she knows the cut is superficial. She is aware of loud noises in her ringing ears and it comes to her that the roaring she hears is real. She looks up and doesn't see the bear immediately but Arthur. He's bleeding, that is what her mind latches on to immediately, but another roar draws her attention to what has caused the bleeding and Merlin feels the breath freeze up in her throat.

By the heavens and moon.

The creature standing powerfully on its hind legs goes down to all fours and charges, going for the pest that has caused its hide to sting with fire and while Arthur is quick and skilled, landing another blow, the bear soon lands one of his own and the Prince is sent flying, a harsh slap from the bear's claws going across his back. Those claws rip right through cloak and shirt to leave bloody furrows in a diagonal line across strong muscles. While the blond is down, it starts for the human again, but arrows pelting its thick fur from the Knights who have remained behind halt its momentum briefly as it rears up again and bellows, causing one horse to panic, having enough and bolt.

Arthur is up again, though, not as fast as before as the pain starts to really set in, but his sword tickles the bear's body once more, hacking and slicing with all the strength and skill he can muster. It's not enough, though, the Prince is brave and no one will ever doubt his skill or courage. The bear once again sends him flying and this time manages to get to the human, towering over the blond, a massive paw coming down to try and crush the Prince into the ground, causing ribs to crack as the beast roars again in Arthur's face. The animal is bleeding heavily and it will not survive its wounds, but it's not giving up without a fight.

As it lunges for Arthur with its great jaws, though, a deep, guttural language halts its movement immediately. "Wux geou ti svent jacion! Jacida tobor tiric ti sulta tenpiswo. Jacida tairais ui ti authot." You will not slay him! His life does not end here. His time is not done.

Merlin has made her way to her feet and though her voice is powerful, she looks eerily calm and while her eyes glow gold, she doesn't appear to be using any of the power that others are used to seeing. The bear roars at her, apparently angry and Merlin opens her mouth, a roar far more powerful and ancient streaming forth. The beast does not cringe before it, but its paw lifts from Arthur's chest, letting him breathe at least even if the bear doesn't move away from him, rising to its hind legs again, breath wheezing heavily from its body as it bleeds.

Its brown eyes meet Merlin's gold and some unspoken communication seems to pass between the two and Merlin steps forward slowly, limping but somehow that doesn't take away from the sheer strength and power that exudes from her. She comes before the bear and it slowly lowers itself down to all fours again. As one, the woman with the Ancient Power and the great bear look to the blond on the ground, a pair of feral brown eyes and a pair of wild gold ones meeting the brown hues of the Prince, weighing him, deciding something as they look back at each other. The bear then lays down willingly and Merlin smiles sadly as she touches its head. The gold that surrounds her fingers holds tinges of brown and red to it and she doesn't pull it from herself, but from the bear.

The life leaves the creature in a huff of breath and Merlin turns to Arthur then, the power she's taken from the animal, its spirit and life-essence swirling about her as she kneels, gold eyes searing into the Prince's earthy ones. "You have been given a gift. He found you worthy, Arthur Pendragon, Great Bear of Britain." Her voice is a haunting wind meant for only their ears and she touches his chest, above his heart even as her words end. The bear's essence spills into the Prince then and it burns like the hottest rage, the whitest of fire. Raw power and fury, instinct and courage come flooding into Arthur before all goes quiet.

Merlin has passed out, the bear is dead, the Prince is still badly injured and the Knights have absolutely no idea what has just happened.
 
The last thing Arthur remembers is the large paw of the animal slamming against his chest, the world turning to an infinite blackness as he lies here in the dirt and sprinkled snow of the cloudy day. The knights are all stunned, a few raising their bows again, releasing at a rapid pace, the barrage of arrows into the back of the beast before Merlin takes over the entire situation. They lower their weapons, not understanding the connection Merlin could have to such a beast. When she steps closer, they all shift in their saddles, wanting to shout out to Merlin not to move closer. But the bear, despite the blood and anger, doesn't attack Merlin as she speaks the ancient language. The knights turn to one another, each and every mouth agape at what they're seeing. Merlin has saved Arthur's life just as he had attempted to save hers.

Luckily for the Prince, his conscious is fast asleep but his body jerks this way and that when the essence seeps into his very soul. The hot fire makes his fingers tingle, red and white flashing across the blackness of his eyelids. It's hot, too hot, and Arthur's chest heaves forward, pressing up against Merlin's hands. The Prince, his face bruised and bloody from the harsh impacts, is still asleep when Merlin's body collapses over his own. Her head comes to rest right over his heart. The thump, thump, thump, is enough to reassure her that all will be well. The beast they have been chasing since last Fall has finally been ended, surely a victory would be called for if it weren't for Arthurs condition.

All the knights see the way he was thrown around like a sack of grain in the back of a cart. Despite his combat skills, a bear is like fighting twenty men and especially when its a brown bear, the likelihood of survival is slim. Most of them can't wrap their heads around Arthur, the way he charged right into battle without so much as a second thought for his life. Does the man not fear death? Or had the prize of Merlin's life weigh too heavily upon his heart? A trumpet sounds, the knights rushing to Arthur's side, fearing the worst for their dear Prince.

Looking down upon his shredded body, the knights fear for the worst and the eldest soldier starts to bark orders, fearing the worst has come for this dear Prince. With the amount of times he has been flung into the air, deep slashes across his chest, back, arms, and even his face, the knights doubt that their dear Prince will survive. A myriad amount of blows have been dealt and Lady Guinevere covers her mouth and turns away when she and her knights are shouted for. Upon seeing Arthur in a pool of his own blood, Merlin sprawled across him as a last chance of saving the man, Guinevere immediately orders everyone back to the Kingdom with their kills of the day. She will take no blabbering when it comes to Arthur's life and Merlins for the young princess doesn't know if she is injured as well. There is blood on both bodies - how is she to know from afar.
 
Merlin wakes long before Arthur does and she startles those monitoring her, trying to assess her condition, by arching and releasing a shrill scream that makes everyone jump and the torches flicker and flare as if in an invisible wind. The healer gasps and semi-calms after that, her eyes looking around frantically at the faces above her. She recognizes them, most of them, but they aren't who she wants to see, NEEDS to see and Merlin struggles in their grip. They try to hold her down, but she's beyond reason and her power lashes out for the first time since she's been here, pushing them all away from the bed and sprawling to the floor. The worst the three healers will have is bruises as she scrambles out of the bed. They watch her, stunned, as she flees the room she's in and out the door.

Merlin can not possibly know yet that she's been comatose for three days and Arthur is the same.

The healer's ankle screams its protest at her, but she pays it no head, her heart pounding wildly as it searches for the person it needs to find. She can still hear his heartbeat in her ear and that faithful sound somehow leads her right to Arthur and Merlin, heedless to who is actually in the room, pushes the King himself out of her way - though, only halfheartedly as she's only trying to get past him - and then another healer as she takes in the Prince's state. He is darkly bruised and the claw marks all over him are inflamed and angry, a few turning green along the edges, blood still seeping from many. He is covered in sweat and is paler than she's ever seen him.

A sob she doesn't understand or acknowledge, barely hears herself make, passes through her lips and Merlin's hands almost blindly find Arthur's skin. Gold is already pouring from her like molten lava, spilling out from her hands and arms in her power's desperation to get to the Prince. He has a high fever, raging hot and dry over his skin, ravaging his strength. Infection has set in on six of the claw marks and the air smells of sickness and the first traces of death's approach.

Her healing gift touches him, starts to attack the poison in his blood, the fever that threatens to kill him faster than even the infection itself will. Merlin hasn't the strength to heal the cuts themselves or even mend the cracked bones as she must battle inwardly first. That itself will overwhelm her before long. The King's illness she healed in a week. Arthur doesn't have that long and so her approach is aggressive and therefore more draining.

It is only an hour before Merlin is starting to shake and her body is freezing to the touch. She is pale and in a cold sweat herself. Her power sputters weakling across her finger and finally she can't work anymore. For the second time in three days she collapses over Arthur, blacking out, but this time she is not taken away from him but rather a cot is brought into his chambers and she is laid there. No one knows what to do for her or how long she might sleep this time, but they do know that she's brought down Arthur's fever to something only low-grade and not to be worried about and all his wounds a clear of infection and even starting to heal a little.
 
Perhaps it's a selfish move, having Merlin not removed from the Prince immediately so that she may nearly kill herself trying to heal him, but King Uther wishes for his son's good health. They've had scares like this before, the Prince coming back in the most horrible conditions, his life taunting to leave from his body. But they have the finest of healers and now that Merlin is here, even the King knows that his son shall not pass into the other world as long as Merlin is there to save her. That's why he doesn't mind, for once, being pushed forcefully out of the way when Merlin enters the room. The King simply moves, knowing that Merlin's frantic movements are for his son's own health and well being. Still, even with Merlin here, death threatens the young male.

"Bring her a cot from the hospital wing. She needs to be close to Arthur in order for her to heal him when needed... if things turn," Uther even struggles for his next breath, blinking and turning away, "If things take a turn for the worst." Heaving in a breath, the group of onlookers leave both Arthur and Merlin to sleep. They know that rest is by far the best healer possible. In a dream, they don't have to worry about the pain or the misery of broken bones or savagely sliced skin. They can both be free from the confines of the real world and dance among the starts for all they care. Two more days pass and Arthur doesn't wake from his dream, Queen Ygraine starts to worry for her son's life. Not that she hasn't been worried sick all along, every night she doesn't get a wink of sleep.

But now Arthur's eyes open, his entire body stiff and hurting from all his lack of movement. A week without movement can surely do damage to his muscles and the young Prince knows just that. But when just keeping his eyes open is a task fit for the strongest of men, he finds himself unable to keep them away. His chest burns, the heavy wrappings covering his entire torso as well as his biceps. He groans in his dismay, not yet seeing Merlin sprawled across her own cot. Finally he finds the strength to open his eyes then works on sitting up and resting his back against the strong wood behind him. The room is dark, the candle lanterns illuminating his desk, bookshelf, carpet, tapestries, and etc. At least he is home, not quite safely home for his weight feels heavier than he ever thought possible, but home and under the care of Merlin.

"H-..." he starts to breathe, his teeth immediately clamping down into a sharp row. Even breathing hurts him, the cracked ribs being set in place by Merlin's touch but not quite healed up properly. He has been accustomed to her healing him almost immediately after an incident. This new pain, what he used to have to deal with, is like an old friend who is unwelcome in his house. He wishes not to feel the burn... the itching and radiating boiling that settles everywhere across both his skin and inside his very tissue. Instead, he craves the warmth of her healing fingers. "Mer..." is all he whispers outwards, not even knowing if there is anyone to answer him.
 
Merlin has woken intermittently throughout the last two days, but it's only to drink something and give whatever healing energy she's acquired from rest to Arthur. She won't let anyone stop her, either, as everyone who's tried to do so has learned, getting a few bruises and even cuts for their trouble as her power shoves them away. With Arthur, though, it's gentle and it's set his bones and helped keep infection at bay, finally breaking his fever completely, but she can't do much more than that before she stumbles back to bed and is lost to the darkness once more. Now though, she stirs for a different reason, hearing not the beginning of her name but something else entirely. A change in heart rate. Even in sleep her power has been keeping watch over that steady beat, knowing when it races with half-dreams and when the pain spikes. She knows when it evens out and grow slow in deep sleep and now it is steady but strong, alert and so she must be as well.

The healer's eyes open groggily and she blinks, the world fuzzy for a long moment before things start to make sense and clear, and Merlin finally makes out her reason for waking. A smile comes over her lips, tired but there as she forces her body to rise, nearly falling back over as she sways. She looks small and almost sick herself in a simple, ill-fitting nightgown that she hasn't changed out of, but Merlin makes it to the bed and without asking, she climbs up and simply lays down again. Her head is near Arthur's hip where he sits, but she doesn't touch him with anything but her hands, curled like a faithful hound beside his body.

Her own is so exhausted she can't think to stand for longer than it takes to get to his bed, but the gold power comes faithfully to her fingers in gentle streams and the warmth, the healing seeps into Arthur from his stomach where her cold hand has settled without true thought, just needing skin to touch. The soreness leaves first, the burning feeling in his muscles slowly following, but once again she can't really touch the wounds themselves, not with how depleted she really is - though, for reasons she doesn't understand yet, she feels like she has more energy now than she did when he slept. Her dark blue eyes can barely stay open, however, Merlin doesn't sleep and her words are soft and soothing to the Prince's ears.

"Shh, all is well, Arthur. I'm here and you'll be fine. I promise."

She knows that now and the relief knowing such a thing is enormous to Merlin. She no longer questions why. Just feeling how frantic she'd been to get to Arthur upon waking two days ago has told her all she needs to know. For whatever reason, she can't lose him and if she never knows that reason, she won't care.
 
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"Mer-..." Arthur tries again, his mouth so dry even with the frequent hydration poured into his mouth by various nurses while he slept, and the poor man starts to cough. Luckily, Merlin comes to his side just as he may desire, her aura of safety covering the Prince and adoring the way she warms his center. Or, no, perhaps the reason for such warmth is the fact that her hand is now on his stomach. Arthur doesn't fight her off, slapping her hand away, as he might do if he were in any other state of being. Right now, he body needs all the time in the world to awaken from its state. Slowly yet surely, the Prince presses his back more into the pile of pillows behind him. Eventually, his body sinks down so that he is practically lying down next to Merlin all together.

"Merlin... thank you," he breathes, his voice sounding as broken as his body is. But that is all the young Prince says for his eyes practically roll back into his head, his lids shutting. But even though the Prince has no strength to keep his eyes open, at least for another few hours to regain his energy. At least he is still talking the pain inside his body gone and for that he is grateful to have Merlin so near. Her hand is still on his stomach, his own fingers moving to rest upon hers. Maybe its his way of telling her not to move from his side. It's a simple touch upon her warm fingers, his cold palm in comparison easily covering her entire hand if he stretched out his fingers. "Don't leave me to the dark..." he whispers, talking about his own dreams that haunted him throughout his days underneath the dark blanket of his lids.

Falling back into his dreams, Arthur wakes up nearly an hour later, the weight of Merlin's arm still pressed along his chest, her fingers radiating over his chest. Despite the injuries, nearly a week in bed has not made any dents to his physical fitness. Merlin will be able to hear his heartbeat as if her ear were pressed up to the very spot, his toned chest acting as a sturdy table for her weight. The contours that normally shout out to the world have been wrapped in thick cloth, a few splotches of blood seeping through to the surface. Still in a half conscious state, Arthur looks down to Merlin's sleeping form practically resting up against his abdomen, her face close to his skin. Sliding down a little, he bites his tongue to not scream out in pain. She shifts next to him and he pauses, worried that he had woken her up. He, however, doesn't question why she is in his bed in the first place. Wtih her here, he hardly feels the gage of pain he felt in the forest or for the first few days before she came to his room.
 
Merlin merely makes a humming sound to his thanks, nearly falling asleep herself, but she manages to catch his whispered words and that does make her look up to his face, her dark blue eyes intent upon his expression though his eyes are closed and she feels her entire being grow fierce with protective fire, only fueled by his hand on her own, and her whispered words back to him reflect it whether he hears or not. "I will never leave you to any darkness, Arthur. I swear it on my life and everything I am."

No, she won't abandon him even if he commands it of her and the healer settles back down by his side and finally drifts off about a half-hour later, when she is so depleted again that she can't muster anything more into the healing she wants to give so badly.

And yet, a half-hour after she has drifted off and Arthur wakes, her fingers have started seeping a pale gold again under his own. She is giving him everything she has even while sleeping such is her devotion to Arthur, though, he knows it not. She does indeed hear his heartbeat and it reassures her that he's still here and still on the mend. It also tells her subconscious that her power is keeping the darkness in his mind at bay and perhaps that is why it still leaves her in a weak, but steady stream. It often acts on her own desires and she did promise she wouldn't leave him in the darkness. The Ancient Power, if in the hands of someone who uses it for good, is like light itself.

When Arthur moves, Merlin frowns a little and moves as well, shifting slightly away from him as a healer's instinct tells her that she can't hurt him and she doesn't want to be resting against his wounds She does soon settle again, though, in a safe place against him and she breathes out in a deep but soft way. Her body lets its awareness go again, releasing the tension and she sinks back into sleep, though, the gold does not leave her fingertips even then.

She doesn't wake and doesn't see when Guinevere enters. Pale blue eyes appear relieved to see Arthur even semi-awake and the Lady smiles with happiness as she comes toward her heart-brother. She makes no comment about the state she's found him in, too relieved to know he's all right and also knowing that there is nothing going on between the Prince and the healer. The castle would have been gossiping up a storm if there was. No, most likely this is innocent - Merlin HAD refused to leave Arthur's side - and it's, quite frankly, cute. Guinevere chuckles softly at that thought and settles gently on the side of the bed that Merlin is not on. She brings a cup of water up to the Prince's lips, lifting his head gently to help him drink so he may speak if he wishes to without his throat feeling like sandpaper. "Arthur," Guinevere breathes, pressing a kiss to his head when he's done and there are tears gathered in her eyes. "you scared us." she whispers to him and then smiles faintly, brushing his damp blond hair away from his forehead before she looks at Merlin and reaches out to do the same to her dark brown hair.

Guinevere says nothing of the healer for now - though, should the gold power from her be so pale? And why is it starting to turn reddish?- her eyes going back to Arthur's brown. "How do you feel?"
 
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"You know... f- full well, Guinevere," Arthur huffs out, his breath unsteady but he keeps his eyes open. Guinevere herself radiates a friendly hand in help to his healing. Once she makes him drink from the water, Arthur feels it wet all the lumps of his dry throat. So much so that he starts to nearly choke, his chest heaving up and down, chest pulling himself inwards. But once the Prince pants for a good while, he starts to breathe normally, his attention finally settling on Guinevere. As far as he is concerned, the extra warmth by his side is simply from an extra set of fur blankets given to him for his fever. The chill of the room swirls in from an open window, Arthur's brow still sticky with sweat.

"That... I would, wouldn't... leave you," even in the recovery from death itself, Arthur can still find the sweet words to spill upon the Princess. It's a loving manner, much like a brother would tease a sister but this way requires a bit more thought. Flirtation is always tough to come by for most but for Arthur, he simply picks a feature and goes with it. Most women are his by the end of a conversation, let alone a night. But his charm has never quite been put full speed when it comes to Guinevere. Would a brother wish that upon his sister? No. Arthur simply wishes to boost her self-confidence, something he knows she has plenty of. But seeing her react is enough for the dear Prince.

Arthur shakes his head, a small flutter of laughter releasing itself from the chambers of his lungs, "Never. Not without full notice at least. You.. ow," he tries to sit up but finds that the extra weight from the blankets is surprisingly heavy. Glancing down, he sees Merlin's hand still sprawled across his chest. His heart immediately starts to beat faster, his face flushing a bright red color as his mouth stays open. "I... um... uh..." Arthur throatily gurgles out, looking frantically to Guinevere, shocked by what he has found in his bed. Then he looks to his own hand pressed against his own chest, on her hand. He lets go, examining her face nestled on his shoulder's crook. He simply doesn't understand, looking for Guinevere for the questions he wants to ask but cannot.
 
Merlin jerks, half-waking as Arthur fights the compulsion to inhale water, but when he settles, she does as well. Her body is too exhausted to wake for anything but an emergency and so Arthur and Guinevere are left 'alone' to talk freely. And the auburn-haired woman has to laugh softly at her heart-brother as he stutters through his flirtation and she gives him a fond smile, once again brushing his hair back, gentle, un-calloused fingers sweeping back through the blond locks in a loving manner. It is no more than she's done for her own brothers when they were ill or injured....or both.

"I appreciate that assurance, my brother. Do refrain from giving me this notice anytime soon, though, hm?" She laughs softly as he has and sits back a little, a concerned frown coming to her beautiful features as Arthur expresses pain. She shakes her head, voice soft but firm. "Do not try to move, Arthur. You're not well enough." She hates telling him that, hates seeing him this way, but he's not dead and that is what counts. It could have been much worse.

Still, even with such thoughts, she can't help but barely hide her smile at the panicked look that crosses Arthur's face as he finally seems to realize who's in his bed with him. It's rather hilarious, but Guinevere is a Lady above all else and she keeps her giggles under wraps and stays poised as she ought to. Though, she does touch the Prince's hand reassuringly. "Arthur, calm yourself. You'll wake her." And indeed Merlin is frowning, shifting, her eyes moving beneath her lids at the increase in Arthur's heart-rate, but as it calms so does she and the gold coming from her hands stops flaring so brightly as she settles again.

Guinevere does allow herself to smile then and again reaches over Arthur to brush Merlin's hair away from her face. She stops though, when the sleeping healer jerks back and curls tighter, the immediate tension in her body saying clearly enough that even in sleep she doesn't trust such things and Guinevere looks saddened but leaves her be, looking instead to the brown eyes that question her so earnestly. The Lady does chuckle then, softly. "She's been here for two days and hasn't left this room. You were both unconscious for three days without waking and then, on the third day Merlin awoke and immediately came here. The healers told us they couldn't restrain her and in truth no one has been able to make her leave either. It would seem her power does more than heal, though, that is what she's been doing for the last two days for you when she's not sleeping. She doesn't eat, barely drinks and no one can get a word out of her."

Guinevere studied her brother for a moment before she took a steadying breath. "You nearly died and if she hadn't woken, I think you would have. The King had Merlin kept here for your sake, but now I fear what it might have done to her. I do not think she's aware of anything but your health at the moment." Pale blue eyes stray with worry to the hand that is on Arthur's chest, the healing power still flowing out of the healer. It's not gold now, but a deep red like blood, like a warning, and Merlin has grown pale and colder, stiller. Arthur, though, will note that he feels more awake, that the pain is ebbing and it's easier to breathe as his ribs start to heal, already in place so the process is without pain.
 
Arthur half hears what Guinevere is telling him right now, his eyes resting upon the hand that is against his chest. Sure she has pressed her tough worker hands to him before but never for such a prolonged amount of time. Usually its a quick burst of warmth but now he finds the heat flowing down to the ends of his toes and to the tips of his fingers instead of spinning around the area of pain. Shaking his head, he is unbelieving that Merlin is that dedicated to him. Did he ask for her? No, Guinevere said, just said, that she came willingly and he accepted her here. Was he in such a state that he said ... revealed certain feelings that only he is starting to understand? Sure he just wants to check up on Merlin often enough but what if those feelings, that need to check her off of his list, is more of a desire than he is comfortable with? Arthur simply runs his hands along her fingers from her knuckles to her nails.

"H- how long... have I been out?" Looking back to Guinevere, Arthur looks quite distraught, his brows knitting in the center, "I shouldn't have been so foolish to charge the bear like... like that. I was... I ... stupid." he immediately starts to cough afterwards though he tries to hold as much of it in as possible as to not wake the sleeping beauty next to him. "I just... I can understand... why Merlin came here to check up on me. To heal me. She has this fantasy that she -has- to keep... keep me out of.. of trouble and out of... harms way." he grits his teeth and expects to feel pain as he shifts again but then he focuses on the red coming -from- Merlin. It all clicks, or at least he thinks that it all clicks. Red. Blood. Marrow. Merlin is killing herself for his sake! Life seems to spring into the Prince at that very moment, his body shying away from her, taking her arm by the wrist and removing it from his chest.

"Get me out of here..." he practically pleads with Guinevere, his legs hardly in a state to hold his lofty weight. Still, the Prince has been healed by an expert but his fears, he keeps to himself. At least, he tries to but as soon as Guin's brow rises in unspoken questions, Arthur is throwing his words at her in a dramatized huff of anxiety, "Merlin.. Merlin said that if... if she uses too much of... too much of her ancient healing energy... she could d-die from exposure. Something about marrow... marrow in the bones. In her body. In all of our bodies. She... she cannot," and before Guin can stop him, the Prince is already at the edge of the bed, pulling his legs to the floor, thinking he can stand on them. They're more like jelly than anything else and as soon as he places his heels on the wood, he feels himself lurching forward as if he had no legs anywhere close to the ground in the first place. The Prince tumbles to the floor, his legs spiting him for daring remove himself from Merlin's side.
 
Guinevere is patient as she answers him again, her keen pale blue eyes taking in the motion of his hand, the fact that her heart-brother can not even seem to look away from Merlin and she finds a faint smile brushing her lips. "You've been out for five days." The Lady frowns at his words about the bear and shakes her head, her fingers touching his arm gently. "Arthur, what you did was noble, not stupid. You did what was right and Merlin...she is only doing what she feels is right as well."

Now, Guinevere had no idea what he meant when he spoke of Merlin's need to protect him and she'd speak with the other woman about that later, but her words still ring with truth. It's a truth that seems to be lost on Arthur, though, as he's grown frantic and it takes a moment for the auburn-haired Lady to understand what he's saying, why he's trying to move away from Merlin so quickly. When his words finally click, though, Guinevere looks just as worried, but even if she wanted to help Arthur - and she does - she's not strong enough to lift him and even when her hands catch the Prince's body, they still going tumbling to the floor. Neither of them hits it, though, staying in mid-fall and Guinevere looks up with a gasp to see that Merlin has woken - how could she not? - and has her hand extended toward them.

Her eyes glow a blood-hued red as the two are slowly lowered to the ground with nary a bruise or scratch before her hand lowers. The healer only sits there then, trembling like a pale leaf, able to be knocked over by the smallest breath of wind, and Guinevere stands slowly, from Arthur's side, knowing that he's probably very much uncomfortable right now, but neither of them is as bad off as they could have been had they hit the floor head on at full speed.

"Merlin?"

Guinevere's voice is soft as she approaches, hands slightly out as she remembers well what the healer's power can do to those who try to take her away from Arthur. It's something the Prince will be filled in on later. Merlin does nothing now, though, merely blinking and red streams, real blood, leaks down her face like tears, a torrent of it starting to pour from her nose as well, bright against her pale skin. It alarms the Lady, but she stays calm anyway as she finally reaches the healer.

"Merlin, you need help. Can you tell us how to help you?"

Merlin's head tilts slightly, her red-hued eyes struggling to make the words work in her mind and finally she speaks, sounding for all the world like a small child. "Arthur?" Guinevere nods reassuringly. "Arthur is fine. You helped him and he's safe." she informs the healer, hoping it will elicit a positive response - and really, they know so little about what garners positive things for Merlin as it is so this is not easy - and she feels relief when the brunette smiles a bit, satisfied and then promptly passes out, eyes rolling back in her head as she slumps. Guinevere is immediately calling for a healer then and the servants outside the room - always nearby - rush to get those needed.
 
As soon as Arthur doesn't feel himself hit the floor, he immediately knows that Merlin has to do something with this phenomenon. "Merlin!" Arthur shouts, that very breath, eliciting her to ask if he is alright and almost a soon as he attempts to gain his footing, the Prince drags himself onto the edge of the bed, his legs still feeling quite wobbly. "You're so stupid!" Arthur starts to rant, shouting at Merlin to just let him heal by himself before she ends up killing himself. "... you'll only kill yourself, Merlin. No more healing - sh-shiiii...." he breathes, seeing the blood drip from Merlin's nose and her eyes roll to the back of his head. "You're so stupid!" is all he can shout, his own worry coming clear to the air, nearly reaching across the bed to grasp Merlin by the collar and shake her if he had enough strength. Instead she falls like a bundle of branches and Arthur starts to yell for a healer.

"Merlin requires assistance! Quickly, quickly!" he starts bellowing, sure that the hidden stars can even hear him by the way he yells. But quickly a sharp buzzing starts in his ears and the Prince quickly covers them, not knowing why his temperature is starting to spike randomly. Odd... is all he can think before he feels his face, already dripping with more sweat. His own stench finally comes to his nostrils and he nearly gags at the unpleasantness of his usually cleansed body. Unless, of course, he had just been riding, out fighting or any other physical activities. Still, he doesn't think long on it for the room starts to spin and he can hardly speak, his words shallow. "I... just need... sit...lay..." is all he can say before his back hits the mattress again, his hands moving to his spinning head.

"Just get Merlin healed!" He keeps shouting until the nurses come to help him as well as the healer next to him. Insisting that he take a bath to stop his worrying mind, Arthur is helped to the bath rooms by Guinevere before he is given to two maids who help strip him of his clothing and place him in the lavender scented bath. Unfortunately, the stench takes practically an hour to cleanse from his skin, the Prince finally returning with a whole loaf of bread given to him by the baker, freshly cooked in the kitchens of the castle. Arthur is helped into a wooden chair next to his own bed, looking at Merlin with worried eyes. He stays silent for a long while, the loaf of bread just sitting in his hands. She saved him, he saved her... there has to be some sort of bond between them that has solidified by now.
 
While Arthur is being seen to, so is Merlin but in vastly different ways. The healers are quite unsure what to do with her if they are honest. Nothing they try, even smelling salts, will rouse the brunette and she still shakes as if in an intense cold, though, her skin is now hot to the touch with fever. They've got the bleeding from her nose to stop and they've coaxed some water and broth into her, but none of them know what is WRONG with her. There are no injuries, no bruises or cuts of any kind. There is nothing to treat in that regard and all they can do is strive to keep the fever down and get some fluids into Merlin. They can't treat something they don't even know the name of.

Guinevere tells them what Arthur had told her about the bone marrow and the ancient power, but even knowing that, they don't know how to help the small healer and so they treat her as best they can and hope that whatever struggle she's facing inside, she knows how to overcome it because they certainly do not know how to help with such a thing as power exhaustion. Most suspect that if she doesn't die, it will just take time for Merlin to get better, time and no more healing.

How anyone is going to stop her from doing that if she wakes and behaves as she has done for the last two days is a problem, though. The solution is simple and though they don't like to do it, it's for her own good that Merlin is strapped down gently, but firmly to the cot she lays on. If she wakes, at least they will hopefully have time to try and reason with her. It's the best they can do at the moment and though Guinevere knows that, she still feels awful about it as she touches Merlin's fevered skin, her palm on the other woman's forehead before she shake her own head and stands, moving to Arthur.

The Lady will not leave either of them any time soon and now she touches Arthur's shoulder and then his chin, raising his eyes to meet her pale ones. "Arthur, eat. She healed you at great risk and I suspect if she wakes and finds out you haven't been eating and gaining your strength back, she may very well hurt you." It's only half-teasing. Guinevere is going to do her best to make sure Arthur gets what he needs, to keep him distracted, but in truth all they can do is wait and they will, for three days more before Merlin will wake.
 
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"I'm not hungry though, Guinevere," Arthur admits much like a child would except he doesn't whine as much, his voice crisp and clear and not elongated as most children would, "She healed me in a very unprofessional way." he nods, backing up this new theory he has devised, "She climbs into my bed with me and practically kills herself with trying to heal me." Even though Arthur shouts, he does it for Merlin's sake. It's no secret in this castle that Arthur is worried sick for the healer, staying by her side night and day, just waiting for her to wake up. "And until she has healed herself properly, because she will make it out of this alive, I am not allowing her anywhere near me. She and her marrow must heal properly before any of her magic is even used. Understand, Guinevere?" finally looking up to her, Arthur's face is no clown to joke with.

"No one! Not even the King himself. My father is in good health and thus the other healers can check on him. Merlin, here," he pulls away from Guinevere, his head twisting from her grasp, "just needs rest. Right? She is tired and I am certain that she is scared. Alone and afraid in the depths of her own mind just as I had been. I am not afraid to admit it, Guin. Sleeping for practically a week straight," he rubs his eye, "springs some interesting dreams that I will share with you," glancing over to her, he starts to shake his head, "But not now. If I must eat, then I'm afraid you have to break this apart yourself," he holds up the untouched loaf of bread, "and forcefully feed me as if I were a sheep of a man." Guinevere, trying to find some lightheartedness in this world of pain, quickly takes the loaf and attempts to do just that. A fit of laughter comes from the two of them, Arthur resisting heavily at first but eventually he allows Guinevere to win.

"I will not be an apostate," Arthur tells Guinevere days later, "I'm staying here until the gods themselves comes down to pull me away," the Prince only leaving Merlin's sight to take a walk around the tower or order some more food. At least the Prince has come to his senses about not eating but now he takes all his meals in his room, starting to 'work' at his desk but Arthur's thoughts are hardly there. He dips the quill in the ink yet simply stares at the blank piece of paper with no reason, no gusto, in putting anything down. Uther told him to write a letter to Princess Lynet, inviting her and her family to visit Camelot. Yet, the parchment stays bare, his only thoughts on Merlin and her health.

Moving back over to the bed, Arthur insists that her body be laid out there for maximum comfort instead of the creaky old cot and he takes a seat on the edge. "Merlin..." he whispers, recounting the moments of simply staring at her sleeping form for hours on end, worrying his head with thoughts of death, "I'm here, Merlin. Wake up and tell us how we may help you. Without you, we are truly lost," heaving in a deep breath, he affectionately adds, "You stupid woman."
 
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