Denial

Despite feeling as though the bottom had just dropped out of his stomach, Merlin forced his lips into a smile.

"Warmer? It's colder than the Arctic circle out here, so trust your Royal Stubborn-ness to insist that it's getting warmer," Merlin's weak attempt at humour had the desired effect of earning him a death-glare from Arthur and distracting the Prince from thinking too much about the situation in which they now found themselves. That is, stranded in the forest in the middle of a storm, with one member of the party looking pretty incapable of walking or even standing right now.

Merlin swallowed the panic that was once again rising inside him and forced himself to think calmly about the situation. First things first, could Arthur actually stand? Shifting his position slightly so that he was crouched just to one side of the Prince rather than directly behind, he spoke to the other boy jovially, trying desperately not to let any of his worry filter into his voice and alarm the Prince.

"Well, I think we've been enjoying this lovely weather for long enough, now. Time to head back to the castle, I think," Arthur just looked at him groggily, his piercing blue eyes no longer alert but vacant and dull. Merlin swallowed back the wave of helplessness that threatened to engulf him. That was not the response he had been hoping for.

"Right then!" Deliberately injecting more optimism into his voice than he felt, Merlin bent over and with some effort managed to loop Arthur's arm around his shoulders. Heaving upwards with all his strength he managed to haul both himself and Arthur into an upright position. Arthur swayed violently, leaving Merlin with no doubt whatsoever that if he had not been there to support the Prince, he would have been back on the floor again almost immediately.

"Come on, Arthur," he said, still trying to make his voice sound jovial, but on this occasion he was utterly unable to help a note of fear creeping in. Merlin was terrified – not for himself but for his friend. He felt so helpless, what could he do? Arthur might be dying and right now it was all he could do to hold his friend upright!

The note of fear in Merlin's voice cut through the fog in Arthur's brain. Swinging his head sluggishly, he managed to turn to face in Merlin's direction and saw straight through his bravado. He was still confused, he no longer understood why he or Merlin were here, why he couldn't seem to get his balance, or why Merlin couldn't just take him back to his chamber already, but he now understood at least one fact about his current situation. Merlin was scared, and seemed to be trying to make Arthur walk somewhere. Despite his almost constant statements to the contrary, if he was truly honest, Arthur knew that Merlin was no coward. Therefore if Merlin was scared, then there was good reason to be. The last thing Arthur wanted to do was walk. He was tired – so tired, all he wanted to do was to crawl somewhere dark and sleep, but Merlin's terror had reached the last coherent part of his brain. Facing his friend therefore he mustered all of his remaining strength and coherency and reached out to the younger boy.

"It will be alright, Merlin," he muttered, clasping Merlin's shoulder in a firm grip. "Let's go," taking one unsteady step forward as he spoke, Arthur began to walk, feeling that this was what Merlin wanted. Merlin let out his breath in a gasp, infinitely grateful that somehow Arthur seemed to understand the situation. Now that Arthur was moving mostly under his own steam, Merlin's terror subsided somewhat and he felt that he could guide the Prince back with relative ease. Yes, he had lost the pebble that had brought him here, but it had served its purpose and, even in spite of the driving rain, Merlin could still make out the spires of the castle in the distance. Careful to keep the Prince's arm wrapped firmly about his shoulders, to compensate for his occasional stumbles, Merlin struck out in the direction of the castle, determined not to give up or slow down until the Prince was safely delivered into Gaius' care.

88888

The progress was slow. Despite Arthur's determination to keep walking, his strength was failing him and he was stumbling more and more often. Merlin kept going, half-dragging the Prince along with him, but he too was tiring rapidly. Despite the fact that they walked at a constant speed, the castle never seemed to get any closer, in fact, to Merlin's eyes, that were sore from straining to see the castle through the veil of rain, it seemed to be getting even further away.

"Not far now," he said, making his voice sound more encouraging than he felt, and hefting Arthur's arm a little further around his shoulders, slightly readjusting his grip on the Prince. It had been a long time now since Arthur had in any way acknowledged Merlin's presence, other than mutely leaning on the other boy and doggedly placing one foot in front of another. Merlin was trying very hard not to dwell on Arthur's condition. He knew it did not look good. He could feel Arthur shivering violently against him with every step, the warm, dry clothing with which he had initially replaced the Prince's tunic was now thoroughly sodden and Arthur's skin was freezing cold to the touch. If he looked too closely, even in the darkness of the night, he could see that Arthur's lips and ears, and even the fingers of the hand that Merlin had wrapped around his shoulder were starting to turn blue. So Merlin tried not to look, and he tried not to think about anything except getting Arthur back into the warmth of the castle.

Multiple scenarios had entered his head – could he conjure a fire? Could he conjure a shelter for them both to wait out the storm and return to the castle by daylight? Could he even just conjure the magic to keep them warm and dry until Arthur's absence was noticed and the alarm was raised? Despite his natural optimism, even Merlin had to admit that the situation was dire. Any fire that he conjured would be just as badly affected by the rain and damp earth as an ordinary fire and the magic required to make a shelter out of thin air would have drained him at the best of times. Just now, frozen and exhausted as he was, what if the energy it took drained him completely? What good would a shelter and a fire do if both he and Arthur were insensible and unable to reach it? Shaking off these dark thoughts he concentrated on the task before him. He was destined to save Arthur. And if the Prince had ever needed saving before, he certainly needed saving now. Perhaps, more than the magic he wielded, more than the important wizard he was fated to become, it was Merlin, the boy himself, who was needed to rescue this important Prince. And if all that Merlin could do at that moment, for all his magical powers, was just keep moving, then that would have to be enough.

"Let me go!" Merlin was pulled out of his reverie by a shout and Arthur suddenly began to struggle violently in his grip. Turning, Merlin tried to clasp the Prince by his shoulders and make him look into his eyes, but Arthur only struggled more wildly the more Merlin tried to restrain him.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Merlin cried, letting go of his friend and stumbling back a step from the force of the Prince's struggles.

"Expectations!" cried Arthur, his voice frantic, "You, them everyone! Always thinking, always expecting... It's too heavy!" On his last statement his voice, sounding more frantic than ever, he began tugging desperately at the woollen tunic he was wearing, trying to pull it off over his head, "Heavy, heavy, heavy," he chanted, "Can't carry it anymore!"

Merlin flew back to Arthur's side, his hands covering the Prince's and stilling their frantic, jerking motions.

"Arthur, stop it!" he yelled, feeling frantic himself. If Arthur managed to wriggle himself out of the jumper he'd only keep getting colder, faster! "What are you doing? You need to stay warm," he entreated his friend, trying to vain to get Arthur to make eye contact, but the Prince's gaze just slid past his, vague and unfocused.

"It's too heavy," Arthur repeated, his voice softer now, and his tone slightly calmer. He sounded vaguely confused as if even he didn't understand what it was that was suddenly too heavy. "Please don't make me carry it any further. I want to stop now," Merlin's heart literally ached for his friend. His tone was so lost and childlike, it was clear that any understanding Arthur had possessed of their situation was well and truly gone now.

"No, Arthur," He said gently, not moving his hands from on top of his friend's which were still, in a jerky and unco-ordinated way, trying to prise off the soaking wet jumper that, in many places, was stuck to his skin. "We have to keep going. We're close to the castle now, and you'll be safe there. We just need to get back,"

"Please, Father," Arthur's voice was even softer and more lost-sounding than before and, as Merlin's mind registered the shock of being referred to as the King by his friend, his grip involuntarily loosened slightly, and Arthur slid down, landing on his knees on the muddy track. Merlin instantly dived beside his friend, attempting to pull him back from where he had fallen – being in contact with the cold, wet and muddy ground was going to do the Prince no favours. "Please," Arthur continued, his voice so soft that Merlin had to strain to hear him above the sounds of the storm all around them, "You expect so much of me, but I can't... I can't..." Arthur's speech was becoming more and more incoherent, as his mind stumbled over the words just as his feet had so recently stumbled over the ground.

"Arthur," Merlin knelt on the ground in front of his friend, caring nothing for the cold, wet sensation of the water soaking through his trousers, making them even wetter than they had been previously. "It's me, Merlin, remember? Your idiot of a manservant? You can do this, Arthur! You're the bravest man I've ever met! If anyone can do this, it's you! Besides that, you've got a destiny that I've promised to make sure comes true... So no giving up, okay?"

There was no response from the Prince. His eyes, formerly so vague and unfocused, had finally closed in unconsciousness and his head was lolling back on Merlin's arm, the rest of his body trailing limply in the muddy road. "Arthur!" Merlin's shout rang out above the raging of the storm. "No! Arthur, please! Wake up!" Shaking his friend had no effect, save to set the Prince's head rolling limply from side to side. All hope, and energy gone, Merlin collapsed to the floor beside his friend. "I was meant to save you..." he muttered, seeing stars dance before his vision as the sheer raw determination that had kept him moving all these hours finally gave out. As the ground came up to swallow him he was vaguely aware of the Prince's body slumping on top of his own. Summoning the last of his wits, Merlin extended a shaking hand, 'Darian!' he cried. The last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut was raindrops bouncing off the silvery, all too flimsy, shield he had created in a last ditch effort to protect his friend. He couldn't help thinking as the darkness claimed him, too little, too late...

End Part Four

A/N: I can only apologise for the long delay in my continuing with this story. It is only thanks to my wonderful reviewers that I have returned to this story at all – so I give thanks to each and every one of you! I hope that the latest instalment was not a disappointment and I hope to upload the next part soon