Special thanks to my beta reader KawaiKitsuneGirl for her time and patience with correcting all my mistakes and for giving the story a more decent and readable form. You're the best!

Dedicated to my best friend Claire.

Ten Feet Under

Chapter 1 - Coincidences

Merlin leaned on the wooden door with the weight of his whole body, making the hinges creak; the sound followed with by a loud thud. He breathed out and closed his eyes for a moment, failing to notice that his legs gave way and let him slide down onto the ground. Arthur quickly grabbed a wooden plate lying nearby and secured the door under the handle, putting both of his hands on it to make sure that it wouldn't slam open under the force of the wind that was roaring ferociously outside, and then he joined Merlin on the ground, exhausted. They were both breathing hard with their hearts pumping wildly in their chests after the run from the snow storm that had surprised them in the middle of the woods.

The events that had brought them here had seemed so innocent. No one could ever have guessed that a routine deactivation of poacher traps, a little bit of snow and a few hungry bandits could make such a big deal by themselves. Unfortunately, it had all happened in one day in a particularly short space of time and so now they were sat in a deserted hut that they both knew very well - the hut of the sorcerer who was there when Uther Pendragon breathed out for the last time.

Merlin swept away the snow from his shoulders in a weak gesture, despite it being useless since he and Arthur were both covered with show that clung to their hair and clothes. In fact, Merlin thought drowsily, it made them look like badly shaped snowmen. His lungs were desperately trying to gather the air his body craved so much and even though he was relieved that they managed to find a place that could shelter them from the storming wind and frozen snowflakes, his magic was impatiently vibrating inside of him, making him alert, nervous and confused.

"I can't believe this," the king hissed, half in wonder, half in anger.

Merlin thought about what precisely caused the annoyance in Arthur's voice. Maybe it was the flow of said coincidences or maybe it was the fact he was in the sorcerer's hut. Actually…It was probably both. It had been Merlin's idea to hide in there after all. There wasn't much time to explain what was on his mind when he came up with a place that could serve them as a shelter, and as it was, Merlin had had to use magic to find the path and Arthur followed him without any questions - not that he would have much choice with the strong wind and snowdrifts. Merlin was glad for that, knowing that if Arthur had found out about where exactly Merlin had been taking him then he wouldn't agree so easily. They were far from Camelot, without horses, supplies or any cover and on top of that, night was nearing.

"From all the places we know, you came up with this?" Arthur asked viciously, but Merlin knew that behind the mask of anger he was trying to hide a different emotion. He obviously didn't have the slightest idea that Merlin had brought him there a few years ago as well. The enchantment that had been cast to lure him out of the castle when Morgana invaded Camelot must have pushed the memories away. It had been more than four years since then but Merlin remembered the moment as if it happened yesterday.

"There is nowhere else to hide in this part of woods. You know it very well yourself," Merlin swallowed hard, refusing to meet Arthur's gaze. He would never have taken Arthur in there unless there was another option- there was no reason to open the wounds that had had barely enough time to heal. There was no need to refresh the memories of the day that left scratches on not only on Arthur's heart, but on Merlin's as well. His actions, no matter how innocent and honest, eventually destroyed the hope that was growing inside him since the first moment he entered Camelot. The hope that one day magic will be accepted and that he will be able to finally look into Arthur's eyes without remorse.

The place looked quite different from what he remembered. It was almost empty which made it look larger than before. But even with the things missing there were still curtains in the windows, however torn and useless with the tatters flying in the draft, along with snow that must have fallen through the damaged roof, broken windows and holes in the walls. Some pots, phials, plates and herbs were smashed on the ground with most of the furniture - except a large wardrobe near the entrance - missing. It was obvious that the place had been robbed, maybe more than once.

After a long silence, when there was nothing than the outside storm to be heard, Arthur cleared his throat as if he wanted to say something. However, eventually he decided stay quiet, shaking his head to show his distrust and anger. Merlin ignored him. He knew Arthur just needed some time to himself.

The warlock headed to the fireplace that had caught his attention, hoping it was in a better shape than the rest of the hut. The chimney looked unharmed as far as he could tell, and the idea of how to cheer up his stubborn master immediately flew into his mind. He knew Arthur very well, maybe too well, and the years in his service had taught Merlin that such ordinary little things like a warming fire or something to eat could do miracles to Arthur's mood.

"You knew he was gone," Arthur suddenly spoke, breaking the tension. The tone of his voice was calm and even though it wasn't a question, it was clear he needed his servant to confirm his assumptions.

"Wasn't that obvious?" Merlin answered, finally looking up into Arthur's eyes. But the truth was that Merlin hadn't known. When he and Arthur had seen the hut the last time there had been someone living there and the boy hadn't been sure whether the place still stood at all. But it didn't make such a big difference now. There had been no reason to think that whoever lived there would refuse to provide shelter to them in such weather.

The king nodded, his face getting rid of the angry and reproachful look. He had to admit that his servant was right. There were no caves in the Forest of Glaestig, and in addition they were very close to the Valley of the Fallen Kings, which had never been a good sign.

Merlin crouched to collect some wood from the floor, mostly from broken furniture. It was lighter than he expected, and dry like tinder. The floor cracked under his legs and even though he knew it was natural for the wood to work with the changing temperature and humidity, something made him to look up towards Arthur.

"The hut's just settling," the king snubbed him.

However, the moment Arthur stood up and crossed the room to join Merlin, more cracks appeared. For a short moment Merlin really thought that the whole place might just crumble down. He looked up again, wondering if the walls had really moved or if it was his head spinning because he stood up too quickly.

Arthur froze on his place, finally admitting that something wasn't right. Merlin swallowed hard, his eyes shifting between the floor and his king, but he soon realized it was too late as one of the plates sagged under his legs. Arthur returned the look, trying to say something but something cut him off.

"Mer-"

Right at the moment that the king reached out for his servant, a series of tearing sounds filled the place and merged with the noise from the howling wind outside. Merlin noticed Arthur grabbing for his wrist, but whether Arthur believed he could save him from falling or whether he instinctively wanted to grab the only thing that was close enough to hold onto, Merlin didn't know. What he did know, and heard with a sinking feeling in his stomach, was a grating sound of breaking wood as the hut crumbled. They were fine, hearts beating fast but unharmed- and then the floor disappeared. With a sudden pull somewhere in the middle of his stomach, Merlin found himself falling into the unknown.

...

The pain in his rump was the first thing he felt when he hit the ground. Nothing could have prepared him for the blow that literally knocked the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for air as something heavy collided with his limp body. He didn't know whether he blinked or blacked out but for a short moment all that filled his world was pulsing pain as the dull thud of wood falling all around him was followed by shards, splinters and a cloud of dust.

He opened his eyes to find out that what had fallen so hard on his legs was not part of some furniture, but Arthur himself.

"You crushed me!" Merlin shouted as soon as he found out how to breathe again, his voice hoarse and full of pain.

Arthur coughed the dust from his lungs. "It's not my fault," he retorted quickly, picking himself up from where he lay across Merlin's legs, "you were in my way."

"I was here first," the servant reacted, hissing between the words. He was covered with dust and dirt; he couldn't even see the colour of his clothes and something felt very wrong with his right leg. He shook his head to get the grey sticky powder out of his hair, but soon recognized that that was a mistake as his breathing turned into endless coughing. He wondered how exactly the dust had managed to get into his mouth.

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't have a soft landing either," the king said with a feigned seriousness, his own voice marked with the dust that entered his lungs.

"You landed on me," Merlin repeated, clearly offended.

"It wasn't as comfortable as it sounds. I wouldn't be surprised if I had more bruises than you in the end. You're just skin and bones."

Merlin coughed again, the tremor sending waves of pain through his hurt limb. "You fell on me with that damn armour! It makes you twice as heavy. Don't touch it!" he quickly added as he saw Arthur's hands reaching to his sore leg. The king immediately raised his hands in resignation, giving Merlin some time to collect himself.

They simultaneously looked up at the hole in the floor with the same inquiring expression on their faces. Arthur shook his head, picking up one of the broken pieces of wood and turning it in his hands.

"No wonder. It's rotten," he announced. The wood looked healthy from one side, but the other one - which remained hidden until now - was crumbling in his hands. He could imagine how the place looked like in summer - hot, wet and stuffy - an ideal condition for the rotting and decaying process. The nearby stream provided enough underground water to make sure it would remain this way until the hut got completely swallowed by the earth.

He stood up and tried to make a picture of the place they had fallen into. He had to give some time for his eyes to adjust to the dimness that surrounded them. After a few moments he was able to see the half-timbered walls around, noticing the roots that were interlaced in the clay walls. He remembered the trees that encircled the hut; protecting and covering it from the outside, but underground causing the reverse and tearing the walls of the hut apart, quickening the destruction. Some of the roots looked strong, growing from the walls and then disappearing a few inches away, creating something like a sling and Arthur thought they could easily use it for getting out. It didn't look like a problem, at least not for him. He hoped Merlin wasn't in too bad a state to climb up as well.

There were remains of something that used to be a ladder in one of the corners, some broken stools, shelves, pots and various things he couldn't identify in other corners, and other than that the space was empty. The things hidden away were all covered with clay and dust and slowly losing their shape under the ruthless hand of time.

He wondered whether the sorcerer that dwelled in the hut was still alive. He suddenly felt an urge to talk to him, to finally bring some light on the events that lead to his father's death. For a moment he almost believed he would find clues in there, something that would explain what happened, what had gone wrong that night. He pushed the thought back in his head, realising how naive it was to think like that. The sorcerer was gone and he had all the good reasons to avoid Camelot for the rest of his life.

"What a pretty place," he whispered and turned to his servant who was still on the ground, lying on the same spot. He was leaning on his elbows but nothing seemed to make him stand up or at least to sit up properly.

"You can't stay here like this. Let me have a look," the king offered, watching Merlin with a hidden concern. Merlin knew his leg was broken. The typical sharp throbbing pain was too familiar with him to leave any place for doubts. But despite his experience, he couldn't fight the last bits of the childish fear in his mind, trying to delay hearing the obvious fact aloud. However, he was surprised with Arthur's almost pleading voice. He didn't command. It was an offer and for some reason, it was enough for Merlin to nod a little, giving his friend the permission to go on.

"Where, tell me."

Merlin took a moment to answer, trying to focus on finding the source of the pain. It felt like his whole leg was on fire and it was difficult to point on the exact spot the flames were coming from.

"Under the knee... somewhere," he breathed out, already bracing himself for the upcoming pain. His eyes instinctively closed and he clenched his teeth, almost like he was trying to shut down all his senses and close himself to prevent an explosion.

He waited the whole eternity, but nothing happened.

"I don't want to tear your breeches," Arthur explained as Merlin's eyes finally opened and stared inquiringly at him. "Not that I would be fond of them, but-"

"What is that you don't like about my breeches?" Merlin asked, his voice reaching high in surprise.

"Nothing. It's just... cold."

Even though they were a few feet under the ground, the air was still very cold. There was nothing to cover them from the winter air and with the upcoming night, they would need every layer of clothes they had.

"I'm gonna roll it up," Arthur decided, trying to pick Merlin's foot from the ground.

"No," Merlin groaned, shaking his head lazily. "You don't need to," he added, trying to sit up, the move sending shivers all around his body, "it's... broken. You can bind it over the fabric."

There was a short silence between them; Arthur staring at the ground without the slightest movement and Merlin breathing through his teeth like he'd just returned from a hundred miles run. He would bet he could hear the snowflakes falling on the thick layer of snow above them as a few of them made their way down to him, flying and sparkling in the dimness like fireflies.

"Okay then," the king finally spoke, "I'll find something to bandage it. Here," he handed his red cloak to Merlin, "you can tear a few stripes in the meantime."

Merlin watched Arthur walking around the place and grabbing various pieces of wood in his hands, bending it to see if it was strong enough and long enough to support the fractured bone. Most of them broke in his hands like splinters. Merlin didn't dare to turn around to see what was behind him but he was sure they would soon find themselves in a complete darkness as the only bit of light was coming down through the broken floor and damaged roof.

"These will do," Arthur brought two plates and put them next to Merlin's lying form. "I'll lift your leg-"

Merlin nodded, hoping the little move Arthur needed to make a place for tying the bandage around his leg wouldn't cause him too much discomfort. The king placed one hand underneath the knee, but the moment he pushed the limb up Merlin's mouth let out a sudden gasp.

His body jerked up and he grabbed Arthur's hand in surprise, trying to stop him from moving his leg any further. Something felt horribly wrong and Merlin could feel a strange sick feeling somewhere deep in his stomach. He was sure it shouldn't have hurt that much.

He held his breath, shaking his head as if he was answering a question that hadn't been asked yet. He could see that Arthur was more surprised than himself.

"Merlin, I've barely touched you."

The warlock moaned through his clenched teeth.

"Are you sure it's just broken?"

Merlin shook his head again, biting his lip as he did so. The truth was he had no idea. The pain was shooting through his whole leg and his mind felt hazy at the intensity of it. He feared the bone was crushed, smashed into pieces. If it was true, he probably won't be able to walk again.

"Just wait-," Merlin said, closing his eyes for a moment. He lowered himself back on his elbows, the sitting position reminding him of his painfully bruised rump. He attempted to move the toes on his foot and felt a huge relief when nothing seemed to be wrong with them.

Arthur felt resigned. He knew that they would have to bind it eventually, but it surely it could wait a bit longer since they had to stay there at least until the storm blew itself out. The coldness could actually be good for Merlin; make his leg a bit less sensitive.

However, when he let go of Merlin's leg, he noticed something slippery on his hand.

Merlin opened his eyes, looking at his friend who was clearly shocked - the hand which he was trying to lift up his leg before was now covered with blood. Merlin swallowed but it felt like something got stuck in his throat.

This time the servant gathered all of his courage and tried to raise the leg on his own, hoping to locate the bleeding wound. But he found it impossible to move, as if the leg was too heavy, as if it didn't belong to his body at all.

Arthur glimpsed the confusion on Merlin's face, and without further words he let his hand slid down under the knee again, bending his head to give it a closer look. Merlin could feel his fingers searching for the wound, for some disruption on the fabric suggesting where the blood was coming from. He hissed when Arthur found it.

There was ringing in his head. He believed it all was just a bad dream and that after a few deep breaths he would probably wake up with racing heart and drops of sweat on his forehead. He watched Arthur's face, too serious and unmoving, his eyes locked with whatever he was watching so closely. His chest was moving with quick shallow breaths and he looked nervous or maybe impatient. Merlin couldn't tell for sure.

Chills ran down Arthur's spine at the state of Merlin's leg. There was a piece of wood sticking out of the ground and ending in the middle of the back of Merlin's thigh. With the little space between the ground and Merlin's leg and with the dimness of the place, it was impossible to inspect it properly. Arthur thought it looked like it was less than two inches in diameter, but his estimate could be easily wrong especially considering how little of it he could actually see.

"You're not going to like this," he announced, looking in Merlin's eyes. "You fell on something."

"I already know that," the servant chuckled, covering his eyes with his left arm, trying to hide his face in his elbow. He almost wished it was Arthur who fell down first. His armour would certainly protect him from any pieces of wood or splinters.

"Well, that 'something' is in your leg now-"

"And?" Merlin asked, impatient.

"-and," Arthur cleared his throat, "it doesn't look like it belongs in there."

Merlin couldn't hold back a weak laugh. "I think it fits in there perfectly. I didn't even know it was there a moment ago."

Arthur smiled, but didn't get his eyes off the wound. He had no idea how deep in Merlin's thigh the wood went. It could have been only in the skin, but considering how much pain it caused, he was afraid it went a bit deeper than that.

"If you think I'm going to listen to you clapping every time you sit on a stool then you're a bigger fool than I though."

"I can always carry a pillow."

"That's clever even for you," Arthur reacted, looking closely at the wound. He needed more light and he needed to keep them both warm.

"You're sure you can do that?" Merlin asked as he watched Arthur collecting wood to make fire. They could tell that the wood was mostly pieces of the floor that had collapsed along with them.

"I'm the king of Camelot," Arthur said as if it was the answer for everything. Maybe it truly was, because Merlin no longer argued. Instead he lay back as he grew tired of holding his upper chest on his elbows. He stared up in the hole and the roof above, watching the game of shadows of the night and snow. He could still hear the wind, but as far as he could tell, it wasn't as strong as before. The realisation made Merlin feel a bit more relaxed, despite feeling guilty about throwing all of the responsibility on Arthur. Above that, he definitely didn't want to see Gaius' face when he found out what had happened. After all the years they've known each other, Merlin had learnt that by injuring himself he was hurting Gaius as well. And he hated hurting Gaius.

The flow of his thoughts was soon cut off by the unmistakeable sounds of wood cracking in the fire. There wasn't much space for it, but since there was a lot of dry wood and Arthur managed to find some flint stones, it didn't take him long to build a little flame in one of the corners of the basement where it blazed close to Merlin's lying body. The servant could soon feel the pleasant warmth from it pervading the layers of his clothes and touching his skin. He never thought he could enjoy such ordinary feeling that much.

"We're gonna have to stay here through the night. I believe they will send a search party with the first light."

"They won't be able to track us," Merlin groaned. The snow covered their footprints before they even tried to escape to the hut.

"I told Leon where we're going and as you mentioned before, this hut is the only place to hide and thus, there is nowhere else to seek," Arthur encouraged Merlin. The servant looked more pale and tired than he would have expected, and it made him afraid that his injuries were more severe than he was willing to admit.

"Maybe it was a trap," Merlin said. Leon was told by some villagers that there were poacher traps in the woods which was why Arthur and Merlin knew their exact locations, and that was also why they were attacked by bandits.

"This part of wood is full of poachers and mercenaries. It's probably just a coincidence," Arthur frowned.

"But it is an option," Merlin reacted, thinking about Morgana.

"Everything is an option, but this isn't Morgana's style. It's just too improbable. I don't think you should worry about her."

Merlin nodded. It was usually him who had to soothe Arthur and not the vice versa. But Arthur was right. Imagining Morgana to set traps to lure Arthur out of the castle and then let the bandits chase them around the woods didn't seem particularly like her.

Arthur knelt down next to his servant again, looking closely at the place where Merlin's leg met that stupid piece of wood. He touched the visible part of the stick which was now soaked with blood. It was crumbling between his fingers.

He rubbed his face, trying to figure out how to get out of their situation. The wood was obviously strong enough to penetrate Merlin's skin but at the same time it was clearly old and rotten at the edges. If he pulled it out, Merlin would bleed more, but if he decided to cut it off with his sword then the tremors that came along with such an action would cause Merlin great pain. What troubled him the most however, was the fact that by leaving the decaying stick in the wound, the risk of infection was gradually rising.

"You look like you're thinking," Merlin interrupted Arthur's thoughts, impatient. He was in pain, though he was doing his best not to show it. He really wanted to get the stick out as soon as possible. He felt a strong urge to get rid of it, like shaking off a spider that suddenly appeared on his arm. He clenched his fists to release the tension that strained his muscles.

"You're going to live-," Arthur reacted, still looking at the wood. He didn't even know what else he was hoping to find in there.

"Great."

"For the next five minutes."

Merlin lifted his head slowly, looking at Arthur in disbelief.

"I can guarantee," the king added immediately.

"And then-" Merlin swallowed the rest of the sentence.

"I'm going to dig it out of the ground."

Merlin suddenly awoke. "You don't know how deep it goes-"

"If you have a better idea, I'm listening," Arthur finished the conversation.

Merlin was basically nailed to the ground. Arthur knew that lifting him up would be too dangerous. Of course he could grab him in his arms and slowly raise him from the wood, but it was too risky. He could easily stagger when doing so and such sudden move, even a little one, could cause only more damage. Rolling him on his side would probably have the same effect, tearing the wound open. No matter how difficult it was to admit it, getting the stick out of the ground was the safest way. It would be hard, but once it was done, he could deal with it like he would deal with a dagger or an arrow.

Without further words Arthur took his sword and started to make a hole. It wasn't as difficult as he had been expecting. The clay was hard, but not frozen. Once he disrupted the first layer, the rest crumbled away into dust. He was slowly getting closer to the stick, carefully revealing the end. It wasn't more than few inches deep and once Arthur saw the end, he put away his sword and used only his hands to get away as much clay as possible. He heard Merlin holding his breath whenever he touched or even got close to the wood and chills ran down his back at the thought what Merlin will have to endure next.

"Got it. Turn over, slowly," he said trying to support Merlin's injured leg and not to aggravate the broken bone more than necessary. Merlin was hesitant at first and Arthur understood, waiting till Merlin himself rolled on his left side, his arms and chest first and then both of his legs until he was lying flat on his stomach, breathing deeply in the dusty ground with his forehead resting on one of his arms. Arthur could feel a few little tremors under his hands as he laid Merlin's leg on the ground.

He walked over to the other side and tore the fabric around the stick to give it a proper look. The entrance wound looked clean and from what he could see, there wasn't that much blood either since most of it was soaked into Merlin's trousers. The stick worked as a cork, reducing the bleeding to minimum. However, he noticed the rather irregular shape of the wound and he realised he couldn't predict the size at all. The absence of water to clean the wound and bandages to bind it didn't add much to his confidence.

"Come on, Merlin. You're the physician," Arthur said eventually, his voice deep and calm despite the loud beating in his chest.

To Be Continued