Merlin - Only Human

[kriadydragon]

Title: Only Human
Rating: PG
Characters: Merlin, Leon, Percival, Arthur, Gaius
Summary: Arthur makes a mistake, Merlin nearly freezes, and Leon has something to say about it.

A/N: written for smcstrav for this prompt at gentable.

Only Human

The weather, Merlin decided wasn't actually weather but some sorcerer's pathetic attempt to bring down Arthur and his knights at a safe distance and without it seeming like an act of sorcery. The temperature had been... not warm, but at least agreeable for the past three days, then decided it had had enough of being agreeable so dropped like a rock. Merlin's eyelids tried to freeze together every time he blinked. And if that wasn't enough for the weather - because apparently it wasn't - it decided to sleet.

And because the day wasn't miserable enough, one of the packs on the pack horses hadn't been strapped down properly (the pack Gwaine had tied, because the man couldn't handle a knot to save his life), and half the pack's contents had been lost before anyone realized it - contents that were about as important as the mud caking the bottom of Merlin's boots.

But did that matter to Arthur? No. Of course it didn't.

“Arthur, it's a pair of bloody gloves with a hole in the finger and a torn blanket. I think we can live without them,” Merlin said.

“They are supplies that might still be salvageable. Besides, I liked those gloves,” Arthur said.

Merlin glanced back between Gwaine and Percival to the road, the items in question no where in sight and with no way of knowing how far back they'd been lost. Merlin shivered, and had been shivering since the sleet began. He wasn't dressed for this weather, unlike the knights who had their armor, doublets and cloaks. He looked to Gwaine imploringly, not to do the searching for him but at least to have some help to make it easier, especially since it was his fault the pack hadn't been tied on properly in the first place.

“And don't even think of asking Gwaine to help, Merlin,” Arthur called. “Gwaine, don't you dare help. It's Merlin's job, not yours.”

Gwaine grimaced apologetically.

Heaving a shuddering sigh, Merlin turned his horse around and followed the road away from Camelot. Gwaine and Percival parted to let him by, gracing him with sympathetic looks.

It was when Camelot was out of sight that sleet became big fat flakes of snow. Which would have been preferable to the sleet if Merlin's jacket, shirt and hair hadn't been soaked through. The snow dusted both him and the horse, the cold soaking through the clothes deep into Merlin's skin and down to his bones, freezing his muscles until he thought for sure he was becoming an icicle.

He found the gloves lying on the side of the road. He dismounted to retrieve them, but what should have been his usual jaunty leap from the saddle turned into a graceless stumble, landing him hard on his knees. His body quaked as though palsied, his teeth chattering and no matter how he tried to lock his jaw, they wouldn't stop. He wanted to snatch the gloves up in anger but moved as though underwater, his fingers so stiff and his hand shaking so bad it took three tries before he was finally able to grip the gloves.

It took far too long for him to get to his feet, where he wobbled. It took even longer for his stiff body to climb into the saddle, for his stiff hands to get the horse to turn around and head back toward Camelot, to keep his juddering arms from thumping against his ribs.

This was bad, very bad, especially when his suddenly sluggish mind realized he could no longer feel his fingers or toes. But he was still alert... mostly. That was good. Gaius had warned them all time and again of the dangers of succumbing to the cold - that above all, should they find themselves lost in the snow and feeling tired enough to sleep to not succumb to that exhaustion or they would be doomed.

Merlin spurned the horse into a gallop, racing against the elements and his own body. The wind from the horse's speed and the now was like a knife cutting through him, he hurt so much, and his heart seemed to skip beats as though stumbling over itself. Merlin's focus narrowed to the horse's mane and the snow now coating it until nothing else seemed to exist.

“Merlin? You all right, Merlin?”

Merlin looked up. He blinked owlishly at the guard now in front of him holding the reins, then at the stairs of the citadel.

When did I get here? was what he wanted to say. What came out of his mouth was a chattering, “H-h-h-huh?”

“You're looking done in, Merlin,” the guard said, helping Merlin dismount without face-planting on the snowy ground. “You need to find yourself a fire, get warmed up. Maybe linger in the kitchens for a bit.”

But Merlin shook his head and muttered, “Can't. Arthur needs his gloves.” He swayed his way up the steps, then staggered through the doors. If there was a change in temperature then his body didn't feel it. What it did do was recognize that it was no longer outside, and suddenly Merlin found himself leaning against the wall, shivering too hard to move, almost too hard to breathe. He huddled into himself, arms folded tight across his chest and back hunched. Lords, he was so damn tired.

“Merlin?”

Merlin turned his numb head on his stiff neck to see Leon and Percival heading his way and looking rather concerned. Merlin made to straighten up and brush off the worry being aimed at him.

Moving, it seemed, was not a good idea with a body frozen solid, and Merlin felt himself begin to tip forward like a felled tree. Percival and Leon broke into a run, arriving just in time to catch him.

“Merlin!” Leon yelped.

“He's like ice,” Percival said. He gathered Merlin up as though he were some swooning maiden, which Merlin felt distantly offended by, and he would have protested it if he could just find his voice. But talking, it seemed, wasn't worth the energy. Besides, Percival was warm as a furnace, the heat from his chest soaking little by little through Merlin's sopping jacket and shirt until Merlin thought he might be remembering what it was to be warm.

Which seemed like as good a time as any to finally give in to that exhaustion Gaius had warned him about.

~oOo~

Leon had always considered himself an open-minded man, had always tried to give others the benefit of the doubt rather than jumping straight to conclusions. Arthur was a fair man, he knew that, just as he knew that despite the fact that Arthur seemed to go out of his way to act as though Merlin didn't matter, Merlin did matter to the king, very much.

But there were times when even Leon wondered if Arthur could be a little careless with Merlin. Times when Arthur would feel frustrated, overwhelmed, and take it out on Merlin through excess chores or pointless tasks.

And Arthur had been frustrated. One of the lords had been treating his vassals unfairly, increasing taxes against Arthur's wishes and demanding a greater crop yield that couldn't be met. Lord Byron had passed it off as having “misheard” Arthur during the kingdom's last meeting on taxation, but this would be the third time Arthur had been misheard, and that meant figuring out how to deal with Lord Byron - whether it was possible to get him back in line, or if Arthur would have to strip him of his title and run the risk of it being seen as an overreaction, and so give those doubting lords more of a reason to doubt.

Leon understood Arthur's frustration, sympathized with it, but he did not think he could excuse the result. Merlin lay limp as a dead fish in Percival's arms, his eyes closed but his body shaking fit to fly apart. They ran through the halls all the way to Gaius' chambers, then startled the old man when they burst in, wasting no time on explanations as they brought Merlin to the fire.

No explanations were needed. Gaius took one look at Merlin, felt the boys hand, then face, sucked in a sharp breath and delegated.

“Here, Leon, pull my cot closer to the fire. Percival, lay him down. We need to get these wet clothes off him and quickly.”

Merlin was like a rag doll as they worked him from his clothes, all floppy limbs despite the shivers still wracking him. His skin was white as a sheet as though the cold had absorbed the very blood from him. Leon felt suddenly ill as he helped to towel Merlin down. The cold had been biting even for a man layered in clothes and armor. For Merlin, in only his shirt and jacket, with practically no fat on his body, it must have been agony.

And Arthur had made him linger in that weather, for the sake of some bloody gloves.

With Merlin stripped down to his under things and dried, they covered him with as many blankets as were readily available, taking the one in Merlin's room and another stored in the cupboard. They had Merlin on his side facing the fire, the heat needing to reach his chest first according to Gaius. Merlin continued to shiver, which Gaius promised was a good thing even if it didn't seem like it.

“Will you watch Merlin for me?” Gaius said. “I need to prepare a warm broth and an elixir to stimulate blood flow. He might be a bit delirious should he wake up and I need someone to make sure he remains in the bed and covered.”

Leon nodded once. “Yes, of course, Gaius.”

It wasn't necessary for both he and Percival to stay, of course. Someone needed to alert the king that his manservant would be out of commission, but Leon was finding it difficult to be the one to go. Any other time he wouldn't have given it a second thought. However... Leon needed time, time to find the right words in which to broach the subject that was the king's treatment of his servant. To remind the king that although Merlin seemed far more resilient than his skinny body would imply, he was still human, and not the means by which the king could vent his frustrations.

“I should have gone,” said Percival, breaking Leon from his thoughts. He looked over at the big man now seated on the stool by the bed, resting his chin on his fist as he nibbled the cuticle of his thumbnail. “I do better in the cold. It doesn't get to me as bad.” He chuffed without humor. “Merlin shivers if there's a cool breeze.”

Leon gave him a small, brief smile.

“Gwaine kept going on and on about it,” Percival continued. “How Merlin shouldn't be left in the cold but it only made Arthur angry. Gwaine's going to kill him when he hears about this.”

Leon stifled a wince. They all liked Merlin, were all protective of him in their own way, but Gwaine could be a downright mother hen about it. More like a mother wolverine, actually.

The conversation was interrupted by what sounded like a low, pained whimper, followed by Merlin shifting on the bed as if incredibly uncomfortable, twisting the blankets around him. Leon hurried to stand behind him, gripping his shoulder while Percival placed a large hand on the boy's dark head.

“Shh,” Leon soothed. “Merlin, it's all right. Lie still, you're all right.”

“L-L-Leon?” Merlin groaned.

“That's right. Do you know where you are?”

“C-cold.”

“I know,” Leon said, rubbing his shoulder. “But you'll warm up soon enough. Now, do you know where you are?”

He saw Merlin's eyelids flutter until they parted, and the eyeballs rolled almost drunkenly in the sockets.

“Chamber,” he slurred.

“That's right. Gaius' chamber.”

“Mm,” Merlin said, and his eyes slid shut.

Only to pop wide open when Arthur came barreling through the door looking harried. Leon squeezed Merlin's shoulder, keeping him still when he attempted to rise weakly.

“Gaius, has Merlin returned, yet?” Arthur asked, sounding not like a man annoyed with a recalcitrant servant but a man concerned.

Gaius, crushing herbs in a bowl, tilted his head toward the bed. “See for yourself, sire. I only ask that you disturb him as little as possible. He was near frozen and his heart may be somewhat weak until he warms.”

Arthur's face visibly paled. He muttered under his breath, “Damn it,” and move swiftly to the bed. Leon had felt Merlin tense beneath his hand, the boy's breathing having increased, but exhaustion getting the better of him and sending him back to sleep. Arthur stood by the bed between Leon and Percival, looking down at his servant with his guilt laid bare on his face. He scraped a hand down his mouth, then leaned froward with his hands on the bed's edge.

After a moment of tense silence, Arthur asked, “Will he be all right?”

“In time,” Gaius said. “It is possible he may fall ill from this, and I want him resting and warm, so it may be some time before he is able to resume his duties.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes. All the time he needs.” He sighed, then shook his head. “What the hell did I ask of him?” he muttered.

Leon cleared his throat. “Sire?”

“Hm?” Arthur said without looking up.

“If I may... speak freely.”

“You may.”

“You often ask... rather difficult tasks of him, sire.” Leon took a deep, fortifying breath. “He should not have been sent back out for such a menial purpose.”

That prompted Arthur to look at him in surprise, which Leon supposed was understandable. Leon knew his place, knew when he needed to speak out and when he needed to accede to trust, but this was the first time that Leon had ever said anything concerning Merlin's well being. Not that Leon had never cared for Merlin's well being, simply that he had never had to what with Gwaine usually the one to speak up in Merlin's defense.

But Gwaine wasn't here right now, Leon was, and something had needed to be said. Leon steeled himself for whatever consequences it would bring.

The consequence was Arthur's features softening, part in regret, part in admiration.

“I know,” Arthur said softly. “I was being a... petulant fool. And if I am ever that much of a petulant fool again then you have my permission to say so. Especially if it involves me taking it out on Merlin.” He fell quiet and still. Then, with a pained, hollow expression, “He could have died out there.”

Knowing Arthur, he would agonize over this for some time. Knowing Merlin, he would forgive Arthur, but Arthur's guilt would linger.

But it would be a good guilt, Leon knew. One that would make sure that an incident such as this was never repeated. Arthur, though king, was still human, just as Merlin was human. He was prone to making mistakes and acting foolish just as any man.

While wise enough to learn from those mistakes. Which, if Leon were to be honest, had not been the case once upon a time, when Arthur was a young and impetuous prince who saw the world as his for the taking.

That prince was gone, replaced by a king, imperfect as any man, but smart enough to know it and learn from it.

And Leon could have sworn that change hadn't started until after Merlin had arrived.

Arthur reached out and gave Merlin's arm a gentle squeeze.

“Arth'r?” Merlin murmured. “Geet your dinner ina secn'd.”

Arthur chuckled softly. “No, Merlin, you won't. You'll lay there like a lazy oaf and rest, that's an order.”

“M'kay.”

“And if I ever tell you to go and fetch a pair of ragged gloves in the middle of an ice storm... or, anything in an ice storm... you have my permission to disobey me.”

“Gladly,” Merlin sighed.

Percival chuckled, and Arthur and Leon exchanged a smile.

The End