Emrys had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like days, though in reality it had only been a few hours. There were moments when he was painfully aware of the throbbing in his shoulder, but these moments were short-lived, as he ended up slipping back into unconsciousness soon after waking. When Arthur found the young druid, he was in a state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, and he stirred when he heard voices in the distance. The voices sounded muffled and far away, and Emrys couldn't understand what they were saying, but he feared that the bandits had returned.

The poison made it difficult for Emrys to think, but his instincts were screaming at him to run and hide. He slowly blinked open hazy blue eyes, the normally bright orbs glazed over and dull, and ended up meeting Arthur's gaze. The prince's form was blurry, and Emrys let out a soft groan of pain as he attempted to crawl away from Arthur, unable to make out his armor or insignia. His breathing was labored and his eyes were half-closed as he looked up at Arthur pleadingly, silently begging him not to hurt him. His fair skin was pale and clammy, and his black locks of hair were stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat.

Emrys blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision, but found that his eyes closed further each time he did so. The fatigue caused by the poison was catching up to him again, and he knew that he was slipping. He stared up at Arthur for another moment, his pale lips moving but no sound coming out, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell unconscious once again, his body going completely limp.