Fic (Arthur/Merlin): The Lee (2/3)
Title: The Lee
Author: heavenlyxbodies
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG13 (see, I told ya, I can write fic that doesn’t involve sex or porn)
Spoilers: none that I know of and as I have only just begun S3 definitely none for the current series
Feedback: *nodnodnod* Makes me happy, just play nice
Disclaimer(s) can be found here
Beta: phnx_reader- as always anything left is most likely me ignoring my beta’s advice; blame me, not her ;-}
Warnings/Squicks: random fandom clichés??? or not
Word Count: @13k
Summary: …inexplicable as it was- Merlin didn’t get hurt. So turning to find his dark haired servant collapsed, unmoving on the ground with a hideously grinning man looming over him had sent foul shivers like he’d never known through Arthur’s body. (btw, I suck at summaries, hence the excerpt cheat, sorry)
AN1: This was originally gonna be my first foray into fandom, it started life as a tiny little frivolous excuse-to-have-Merlin-wrapped-up-in-Arthur’s-cloak!fic, only it then decided it wanted a plot… and wouldn’t stop nagging until I gave it one. Then it grew… and grew… and grew into the monstrosity that it is, lol. (pls note that my avg fic length is 1500-2000 words, so yeah, 13k monstrous)
AN2: Beware “My Word Thing”
AN3: I dedicate this to my dearest KyoKohitsuji, who let me drag her into the world of Merlin and readily joined me in rampant worship, then kicked my ass until I turned a half-assed daydream into a real live fic.
~~~~~~~~~
Arthur was getting worried, alright more than worried. Merlin looked awful and his work, which despite Arthur’s continual chiding he actually performed superbly, was steadily getting worse. He was becoming the useless servant Arthur so often accused him of. It had been weeks since the encounter with the sorcerer, but it seemed no one was any nearer an answer, although Merlin’s attacks appeared to have ceased. Still, Merlin’s waning capabilities and the sheer exhaustion he suffered from were enough to tell Arthur things were not as they seemed.
“Merlin?” Arthur asked as he threw himself casually into one of the ornate chairs in his chambers closest to his servant.
“Sire?”
Arthur cringed internally, it was another thing so wrong with the current situation, the sarcasm and bite to his manservant’s words were all but gone, he actually sounded respectful. “Have you been sleeping?”
The slighter man stiffened momentarily before turning one of his bright flighty smiles on the prince, “Why, do you n…” he trailed off at Arthur’s unamused look, the one that made him look disturbingly like his father.
“I’m worried about you,” he admitted, hedging his words with, “and the state of my armour.”
Merlin simply nodded. He, of all people, knew how badly his work was slipping; without the aid of his magic his duties were becoming excruciating, he had stopped helping Gaius over two weeks ago and he was up until all hours mending and cleaning Arthur’s clothes and armour.
“Merlin, answer me,” the prince demanded gently.
Merlin could feel the blush that crept up his face, “I sleep when I can, Sire.”
“Which isn’t often if I’m any judge. This has something to do with that sorcerer, doesn’t it?”
“Gaius believes so,” he answered hesitantly.
“And you were going to tell me this when exactly?” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and managed to look down his nose at Merlin while remaining seated.
“Umm, when you asked?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes under a wrinkled brow.
“Indeed.” Arthur relaxed, letting his features smooth and his shoulders slump slightly as he sighed and shook his head at his manservant. “You will go to your quarters and tell Gaius I wish to see him. Then you will get some sleep. This does not mean continue with any unfinished duties,” the prince admonished, “- no mucking stalls, no dealing with my laundry, no mending my armour- nor does it mean aiding Gaius and I will assure he knows this. You are to go to your chambers and sleep. And don’t think I won’t check with Gaius.” Internally, Arthur smiled smugly, he was fairly certain he’d covered what ‘go to bed’ meant this time, so he wouldn’t have any surprise visits from a still working Merlin. “Now, go fetch Gaius.”
Merlin looked almost hurt, but Arthur knew this had to be done. He needed his Merlin back, and until they had dealt with whatever enchantment was assailing Merlin he wouldn’t risk losing more of him to this debilitating exhaustion.
A soft, “Yes, Sire,” was Merlin’s only reply as he slowly retreated from the room.
---
“I swear if I hear another ‘Sire’ from him I’ll have him in the stocks for not being an insolent prat!”
“I’m sure he’s not doing it intentionally, Sire. He’s just been under a great deal of strain with this ailment.” Gaius spoke soothingly to the troubled prince.
“Yes, but are you any closer to breaking the enchantment, if it even is an enchantment.” Arthur stalked about his room trying not to gesticulate wildly at the healer as he spoke.
“Yes and no, Sire. It is most definitely an enchantment, however, I am no closer to understanding it or finding a way of breaking it,” the old man admitted sadly. He was beginning to fear for his young charge’s mental and physical stability, Merlin was having to fight every instinct in his being to not use his magic, and there was only so much his body and mind could take before breaking under the exertion of fighting his very nature.
Arthur paced back and forth, finally stopping at the large window next to his bed. He seemed to gaze aimlessly for a few moments causing Gaius to prompt, “Sire?”
Arthur shook himself turning to face the old physician, “I want Merlin to rest; can you fix him one of Morgana’s sleeping draughts?”
“I can certainly try.”
The blond nodded, “He’s not to perform any duties for anyone.” Arthur’s eyes flitted away for a moment. “I’ll come ‘round tomorrow to… see how things are coming.”
“Yes, Sire,” Gaius replied dutifully, barely containing the smile that threatened over Arthur’s protectiveness.
---
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when Gaius returned to their chambers. “Gaius!” He forced himself to breath. “What did Arthur want?”
“Calm down, Merlin,” the man instructed.
“But Arthur…”
“Just wanted to check on our progress,” he put a fatherly arm around the young sorcerer, “and make certain you rested as he ordered.”
Merlin’s eyes, rimmed with dark circles and traces of red, gazed plaintively at the older man as he sat down heavily, the weight of the situation seeming to transcend to a physical thing, “How can I rest when…” he threw his head down on the table where he sat.
Gaius ran soothing circles over Merlin’s back. “Arthur’s worried about you. I doubt he’s going to stray too far until he deems you well enough.”
“What’s it matter, Gaius? I can’t protect him anymore,” the desolation in Merlin’s voice was enough to break any man’s heart, let alone the old physician’s.
Sitting next to him, Gaius squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “Merlin, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in the time you’ve been here it’s that no power, of man or mystical, will keep you from doing what you feel is right or from protecting Arthur.”
A half smile flitted across Merlin’s face, his eyes peeking up taking on a slight twinkle of hope at Gaius’ words. He wanted to believe that even if they couldn’t break the spell he was under that he could still protect and care for Arthur.
“Unfortunately,” Gaius continued, “both seem to hold equal amounts of danger, which you tend to run headlong into with a certain recklessness.” The smirk on his face and in his eyes quelled any sting his words may have held.
A soft chuckle rose from the dark haired young man as he finally raised his head. “What would I do without you, Gaius?”
“Probably lose your head,” he muttered as he stood making his way to a shelf of prepared potions. “Arthur wants me to prepare you a sleeping draught,” he continued before Merlin could get maudlin over his previous comment. “Will you take it or do I need to secret it into your food?”
Merlin shot his mentor an incredulous look, “Really, Gaius?”
“Your food then,” he answered frankly, plucking a vial from the shelf. He returned to Merlin who was still looking disbelievingly at the old man. “Drink it. Prince’s orders.” He lowered his head meaningfully, “And mine.”
Merlin reluctantly took the vial and downed it. “Happy?”
“Quite.” Gaius nodded, taking the vial back. “Now, you should get into bed unless you’re planning on sleeping here, which could make it difficult for me to get any work done. Off with you,” he shooed Merlin into his own chambers and closed the door, confident that for once Merlin would sleep.
---
Arthur knocked on the physician’s door just as Gaius sat down to dinner.
“How is he?”
“Resting, m’ Lord,” Gaius gestured towards Merlin’s room and Arthur took it as a sign he was welcome to look in on his manservant.
Without hesitation the prince went to Merlin’s door, easing it open slowly, he peered inside. True to his word Merlin was asleep, though not terribly peacefully from the look of it. His dark hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and he jerked too often for comfort. Slipping the door closed he turned to the healer, “Gaius?” He motioned to the door, “He doesn’t look well.”
The old physician moved with a speed one would not credit a man of his age to have, as he brushed passed Arthur and into Merlin’s room. He immediately went to his side, brushing hair from Merlin’s brow and laying a hand there to check for fever. He turned to Arthur, who looked more concerned than was befitting a noble over his ill servant, “Sire, would you fetch me the purple flask from the table?”
Arthur hastily retrieved the bottle, “What’s wrong? Is it the enchantment?”
“I don’t believe so, Sire. More likely that the sleeping draught allowed his body to succumb to the stress it was under.” Taking the flask, Gaius lifted Merlin’s head and placed the bottle to his lips encouraging him to swallow a few drops. “That should help the fever.” As Gaius stood to leave, he saw a pale looking prince staring from the doorway. Gently, Gaius placed a hand on Arthur’s arm guiding him out of the room. “He will be fine, Arthur. I expect the fever will break by morning. You’re welcome to check on him then.”
Arthur pulled himself together giving a nod and a thankful smile to the old man, before turning on his heels and leaving.
---
The morning came slowly as Arthur tossed and turned, the soundness of sleep never truly reaching him, his thoughts constantly returning to his impertinent, brazen, and oh so infuriating manservant. Watching Merlin fall apart was having its own effect on the prince; cracking his stoic armour in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Thankfully, he’d devised a plan to end this. They would find the warlock who cursed his beloved manservant. Once Merlin no longer looked like living death, they were going on a hunt, at least, that’s what the king would be told. Nothing that required a large retinue or formal hunting party, merely a day out of the castle with whatever game they happened upon, and Arthur had every intention of happening upon a sorcerer.
He moved through training with practiced ease, Merlin never far from his mind, but tucked away so as not to distract him in his combat. He’d forced himself to go through his morning routine without rushing like some fawning girl to Merlin’s side, so it was early afternoon when Arthur finally found himself rapping on Gaius’ open door.
“Arthur!” Merlin greeted excitedly. His face was still drawn and the dark circles still played beneath his eyes, but the sparkle was returning to his night blue orbs.
“Hmph, I tell you to rest and this is what you do?” The levity in his voice betraying his true feelings.
“Well, Gaius wouldn’t let me help him, so I thought I’d see what I could find out about whatever this is.”
“Merlin,” Arthur began as he moved to sit on a stool next to where his manservant was situated on the floor, a book in his lap and several others scattered around him, “I doubt there’s anything you can divine from those books that Gaius hasn’t already discovered.”
“I have to do something, Arthur. I can’t just sit here all day.” The young man tried not to let the whine seep through his voice.
Arthur toed the book that lay in Merlin’s lap closed. “That is precisely what you’re going to do.” Arthur stared into Merlin’s eyes, “Because tomorrow, we are going hunting.” The prince smiled his most wicked mischievous smile.
“Hunting?” Merlin asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Merlin, hunting. I do believe you’ve heard of the activity. These days it usually consists of me attempting to track the game you scare away,” the blond teased without the usual menace in his voice.
Merlin’s brow wrinkled in confusion; this was one of the many times Merlin had to question Arthur’s sanity.
Arthur merely smiled, standing to leave his manservant to recuperate. “Just be ready to leave in the morning.”
Just as Arthur reached the door, the physician entered, almost colliding with the prince. “Forgive me, Sire,” he ducked his head apologetically. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked, suspecting the prince was merely there to check on Merlin.
Arthur clapped Gaius on the shoulder, giving him the same mysterious smile he’d offered Merlin. “See that he sleeps. We have a long day ahead of us,” he instructed as he left.
Gaius turned his questioning gaze on Merlin, who shrugged.
“He wants to go hunting.”
“Hunting?”
---
Early the next morning Merlin made his way towards Arthur’s chambers by way of the kitchens to pick up the prince’s breakfast.
“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur greeted his very confused manservant, “good, you’re here. Here take these,” he handed him several packed portion of food for their travels- dried meats, bread, and cheese- and packed more into the saddle bags he had with him; it was much more than would be needed on a simple two man hunt.
“Arthur, what is this?”
“Food, Merlin, I thought assuredly you’d know what that is.” Arthur made a show of looking Merlin over, “You sure you’re well enough for this?”
The young man smirked, “Yes, Sire.”
“Good, let’s go.”
When they reached the stables, two horses had already been saddled and bridled for them. Arthur tossed his saddle bags onto his horse securing them tightly, while Merlin commandeered a set of his own and filled their pockets with the food Arthur had given him.
Merlin took in the stables, the obvious lack of hunting gear, and what Merlin knew to be Arthur’s armour pack bundled and set on his horse, “Arthur, you want to tell me what we’re really doing?”
The blond continued to tend his horse. “We’re going to get answers.”
“Arthur?” Merlin’s tone was filled with worry.
“This enchantment has to be broken; nothing in Camelot has the ability to break it, so we go to the source.” He swallowed, fearing he’d let too much emotion slip through. “I can’t have my manservant falling apart and half killing himself. Morgana and Guinevere would never let me hear the end of it,” he added trying to cover himself.
Merlin smiled softly as he finished with his own horse.
No more than half an hour later they were riding out the gates of Camelot.
They rode in silence until they’d put some distance between themselves and Camelot. Arthur casting furtive, assessing glances at Merlin as they rode, assuring himself that his manservant was handling the journey.
Merlin himself was studying Arthur, trying to understand why he was doing this. He knew Arthur would and had risked his life for him before, but this felt different. Maybe it was because he felt helpless, unable to protect either of them, and not anything about Arthur at all, but he’d come to know his prince, read his moods and motives, and this he couldn’t understand.
Finally, Arthur let out a huff, “Out with it, Merlin.”
The young man jumped, "What?”
Laughing quietly, “Merlin, subtle you’re not. Your eyes have barely left me since we left Camelot, so what is it?” he encouraged.
Merlin sat a little straighter in his saddle, before asking simply, “Why?”
“Why, what?” he asked, then instructed, “And Merlin, in more than one word.”
“Why’re you doing this?”
“I told you.”
Merlin shook his head, lips taught, “No, you didn’t. Not the real reason, anyway.”
“Merlin,” annoyance and exasperation warred for dominance in his voice as he chastised himself for being so transparent to his manservant. “Just, shut up, will you,” he snapped and urged his horse ahead.
“You asked,” Merlin called.
“Shut up, Merlin.”
Merlin smiled to himself, Arthur was so easily flustered. He hoped that one day Arthur would be able to admit that he cared for Merlin, maybe not as much as the young warlock cared for the prince, but Merlin had long ago accepted that friendship was all he could ever expect from his prince.
Up ahead, Arthur was cursing himself as five kinds of fool. He’d been dying to have his mouthy Merlin back and now that he was getting some of that infuriating, lovely cockiness, he’d told him to ‘shut up’! What in the name of Camelot had he been thinking? …he’d been thinking that Merlin had been getting too close to a real answer, and Arthur wasn’t at all sure he was ready to acknowledge out loud that he honestly cared for his brazen manservant, even if what he was admitting was only a fraction of his true feelings. Still, if he wanted his Merlin, then he shouldn’t have told him to shut up the moment he showed himself. Arthur argued with himself over the best way to retrieve the situation, until his musings were interrupted by a decidedly unpleasant growling sound from his companion. It was only then that the prince realized it had been hours since they had left Camelot and Merlin most likely hadn’t eaten beforehand.
They rode on a bit further, until Arthur spotted a small clearing. He pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, trusting Merlin to follow suit.
“Why’re we stopping?” the young man asked once he was safely on the ground.
Arthur pulled two packets of food out of his bags. “You need to eat,” he announced simply, cringing at his overly protective words and hoping that Merlin hadn’t noticed.
Merlin said nothing as he smiled against his horse, stroking her mane. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today, smiling. More than he’d done in the weeks since they had returned from their encounter with the sorcerer. Being alone with Arthur had that effect on him.
The clearing held two convenient logs for them to sit on so as not to crowd each other. Something Arthur, at least, was very thankful for. He didn’t think he could be that close to Merlin right now.
Sitting on his log across from him, Arthur couldn’t help but watch Merlin as he ate. It seemed to him that Merlin was picking at his meats and cheese as if he had no appetite, which he knew from his still growling stomach his manservant did. Yet another item to give the prince cause to worry.
“I’m sorry,” the prince blurted, surprising himself and Merlin.
The brunet’s head shot up, “Excuse me?” There was no way he’d heard those words from the prince.
Arthur closed his eyes and grit his teeth; trust Merlin not to make this easy for him- a prince did not apologize to a serving boy, but he’d come this far, he might as well finish it- as much as a prince didn’t apologize, neither did he leave things half done. “I said, I’m sorry.”
Merlin looked at Arthur curiously, “For what?”
“For gods’ sakes, Merlin, can you at least pretend to make this easier on me!” The prince drew in a breath, “I’m sorry for telling you to shut up.” The words coming out with a forced calm.
Merlin blinked, then blinked again. “Uh… thank you,” he replied, his heart flipping a little at the unusual act of kindness.
They finished eating in silence, though Arthur took careful notice of how much Merlin ate, or didn’t as it were. He would need to find this wizard and fast before he lost Merlin to a worse state than he had been in two days before.
---
The trip was slow, without Merlin’s constant chatter the time seemed to drag on. Arthur had been on plenty of hunts, long patrols, and campaigns where silence or at most, quiet conversation was the normal state, but being with Merlin and having that same quiet disturbed him. He’d gone so far as to try to invoke one of their verbal sparring matches or even one of Merlin’s ramblings; anything to hear even a hint of that normally vivacious voice. Nothing worked. At best, he got a word or two in response and as the day progressed even those few words got shorter and farther between.
It was growing dark and though they had yet to reach even the halfway point of their journey, Arthur was exhausted. Spending his day worrying about Merlin, having snatches of him there then gone, was taking a greater toll than the trip itself. The roughness of the trip had Arthur idly wondering what would happen if this enchantment on Merlin continued or couldn’t be broken; what would happen if he fell prey to his own susceptibility when it came to the young man. If it came to that he knew his father would rid himself of Merlin at the first opportunity; he was ‘just a serving boy’ after all. The mere thought of being without Merlin infused the prince with yet more determination to stop this, whatever the cost. He wouldn’t lose Merlin, not now, not ever, he just couldn’t. It wasn’t a matter of want anymore, it was a matter of need; the two of them had become too close for that.
Climbing down, Arthur led their horses off the track they had been following, looking for a suitable place to make camp for the night. It didn’t take him long to find a small grove of holly trees that would provide enough cover in these cooler days of autumn.
“Merlin, set the fire,” Arthur directed without thought, mentally kicking himself for thinking he should have been kinder.
“Of course, Arthur.”
The prince allowed himself a small smile at the familiarity he’d grown to miss more than he’d thought possible; he really was getting tired of hearing ‘Sire’ pass Merlin’s lips. The smile faded quickly as he remembered earlier in the day and just how little food passed those lips. Gathering his crossbow and a set of quarrels, he told Merlin, “Get that fire going, I’ll see that we have something a bit more filling tonight.”
Arthur had turned and delved into the forest before Merlin had a chance to reply. Merlin never liked it when Arthur went off on his own, especially when the sky was darkening and they were in parts of the forest that neither knew that well. And now without his magic, Merlin was even more insecure about his prince’s safety. He tried to keep his ears trained on Arthur and the slightest sound. It was these occasions when Merlin wished he had Arthur’s gift for the hunt.
In moments it was clear that no amount of straining would allow Merlin to keep up with Arthur. When he was hunting, Arthur became the hunt. Merlin may not enjoy hunting and he may have on the odd occasion or two seen fit to make enough noise to scare off any game for miles, but he loved to watch Arthur hunt, the prowess and cunning- much the same as he showed in battle, how he seemed to channel the very earth as if it were a part of him. In some ways Merlin thought perhaps this was Arthur’s own brand of magic, though he’d never say as much to the prince or within the hearing of the king.
Forcing calm upon himself, Merlin laid and, after many futile attempts, started the fire. It was just settling into a constant flame when Arthur returned with a plump rabbit and matching pheasant.
Arthur was rather proud of the pheasant. He knew from previous hunts how much Merlin enjoyed game bird, and he knew as a servant he seldom had the opportunity to eat it. He smiled when he entered the clearing, seeing the fire alight and warm and Merlin still standing, quelling the fears that had been haunting his mind with memories of the last time he’d left Merlin to tend a fire. “Rabbit or pheasant?”
Merlin looked at Arthur curiously, a look that was becoming far too familiar to both of them on this journey.
“To prepare, I don’t intend on dressing them both myself.”
“Oh, uh,” his curious look turning to one of confusion over Arthur’s eagerness to help with anything, “the rabbit?”
Arthur rolled his eyes and tossed the animal towards his manservant, turning quickly to hide his smirk. Something about a confused Merlin eased his troubled mind.
---
It had been several hours since they’d left camp, and they were almost on the area where they’d encountered the sorcerer weeks before. As they grew closer both men could feel the change in the air; for Merlin it was a slow hum of deep unchanneled power, while the quietness and calm set Arthur’s senses on edge. They rode on, horses slowed to a hesitant crawl, as they examined their surroundings, each in their own way.
The huge creature seemed to come from nowhere; simply appearing in the middle of the trail they were travelling. Its teeth were sharp, gleaming fangs, its body scaled and covered with moss. A noise like a sick gurgling hiss came from the beast, its tongue flicking around like some great pronged snake.
Arthur’s horse reared as the tongue lashed out towards it; the moment hooves hit the ground the prince was sliding out of his saddle, drawing his sword, and shouting at Merlin to “get back”.
Arthur slashed at the creature’s tongue, nicking it causing a deep blue ichor to ooze from the wound and another gurgling hiss to scream from the creature. A large clawed paw swept at Arthur, his hunting clothes offering little protection against claws of this size. Arthur’s movements were smooth and fluid, he was in his element, a warrior. His sword crashed against a swiping claw deflecting its strike just enough for it to be painful and not deadly, stunning him momentarily.
Behind them, Merlin crouched by a tree, waiting for the right time to offer his kind of help. He knew he’d only get one chance so he’d have to make it count. Once he cast his spell, he’d fall into that terrible pit of darkness, but Arthur was the one thing he knew without doubt was worth it, the one thing he’d die for.
Merlin watched as the creature continued clawing at Arthur and Arthur deftly dodged each blow.
Arthur’s mind raced noting the method and form of each attack; he couldn’t dodge the creature forever, eventually one of them would have to break the cycle. After one powerful attack, Arthur made his move, lunging towards the creature’s vulnerable underside, only to be hit by a powerful clawed back foot that sent him sprawling to the ground, head shaken and sword just out of reach.
Another huge claw came crashing down towards the prince, still stunned from the last attack and scrabbling for his sword. “Arthur!” Merlin screamed, slipping from behind the tree; his magic already pooling, power preparing to surge from him as his arm rose preparing to direct his magic.
The blond covered his head in expectation of the attack, but before it could come he felt the air move violently as the beast was hurled back as if struck by a mighty fist. Arthur looked back in time to see a brilliant flash of gold and his eyes widened in horror as Merlin fell to the ground.
Riding on instinct Arthur rolled and stabbed at the creature’s belly, more ichor running from the wound as another horrid screech came from the enraged beast. It thrashed about wildly, trying to reach its attacker to no avail. Arthur began to feel his body thrum as if power were leaking into him, he cast a quick look at his crumpled manservant and attacked. Two more well placed stabs and the creature was falling, all fight leaving it. Arthur watched the ichor run until he was certain the creature was dead, then turned his attention back to Merlin.
At first Arthur was furious, glaring at Merlin’s prone body as if it was another monster to be slain. He growled, cursing the gods and Merlin in equal measure. And the feelings, the magic he’d felt all those times before when Merlin slipped into this almost coma-like state wrapped themselves around him and this time he knew where it came from, he just didn’t understand why. The knowledge only fuelled his anger as he yelled at Merlin’s inert form. “You inexcusable arse! A wizard! All this time! You…” Arthur raised his hand in a fist as if the threat of pounding Merlin physically into the dirt would make him feel better, it didn’t, and the pained look on Merlin’s unconscious face served only to bring all of his protective instincts to the fore. As much as it hurt him, he still would not allow any harm to befall his servant. Merlin was Merlin. “Why?” he muttered softly.
He walked around Merlin’s body several times, examining it for any signs of… what, he didn’t know; simply convincing himself that this was indeed his Merlin before him. The magic he felt swirling around them, now so obviously coming from his servant, was as warm and comforting as it had been weeks before and deep inside himself Arthur didn’t want to fight it; it was peace, it was a hidden emotion he still refused to name, it was Merlin. Finally, Arthur fell more than sat on the ground in front of the brunet. “You stupid fool,” he admonished as he reached a gloved hand to stroke Merlin’s dark hair.
*********
Note: “living death” is not a misspelling; it is a real term from the late 1500’s
-- Previous--
-- Next--
Author: heavenlyxbodies
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG13 (see, I told ya, I can write fic that doesn’t involve sex or porn)
Spoilers: none that I know of and as I have only just begun S3 definitely none for the current series
Feedback: *nodnodnod* Makes me happy, just play nice
Disclaimer(s) can be found here
Beta: phnx_reader- as always anything left is most likely me ignoring my beta’s advice; blame me, not her ;-}
Warnings/Squicks: random fandom clichés??? or not
Word Count: @13k
Summary: …inexplicable as it was- Merlin didn’t get hurt. So turning to find his dark haired servant collapsed, unmoving on the ground with a hideously grinning man looming over him had sent foul shivers like he’d never known through Arthur’s body. (btw, I suck at summaries, hence the excerpt cheat, sorry)
AN1: This was originally gonna be my first foray into fandom, it started life as a tiny little frivolous excuse-to-have-Merlin-wrapped-up-in-Arthur’s-cloak!fic, only it then decided it wanted a plot… and wouldn’t stop nagging until I gave it one. Then it grew… and grew… and grew into the monstrosity that it is, lol. (pls note that my avg fic length is 1500-2000 words, so yeah, 13k monstrous)
AN2: Beware “My Word Thing”
AN3: I dedicate this to my dearest KyoKohitsuji, who let me drag her into the world of Merlin and readily joined me in rampant worship, then kicked my ass until I turned a half-assed daydream into a real live fic.
~~~~~~~~~
Arthur was getting worried, alright more than worried. Merlin looked awful and his work, which despite Arthur’s continual chiding he actually performed superbly, was steadily getting worse. He was becoming the useless servant Arthur so often accused him of. It had been weeks since the encounter with the sorcerer, but it seemed no one was any nearer an answer, although Merlin’s attacks appeared to have ceased. Still, Merlin’s waning capabilities and the sheer exhaustion he suffered from were enough to tell Arthur things were not as they seemed.
“Merlin?” Arthur asked as he threw himself casually into one of the ornate chairs in his chambers closest to his servant.
“Sire?”
Arthur cringed internally, it was another thing so wrong with the current situation, the sarcasm and bite to his manservant’s words were all but gone, he actually sounded respectful. “Have you been sleeping?”
The slighter man stiffened momentarily before turning one of his bright flighty smiles on the prince, “Why, do you n…” he trailed off at Arthur’s unamused look, the one that made him look disturbingly like his father.
“I’m worried about you,” he admitted, hedging his words with, “and the state of my armour.”
Merlin simply nodded. He, of all people, knew how badly his work was slipping; without the aid of his magic his duties were becoming excruciating, he had stopped helping Gaius over two weeks ago and he was up until all hours mending and cleaning Arthur’s clothes and armour.
“Merlin, answer me,” the prince demanded gently.
Merlin could feel the blush that crept up his face, “I sleep when I can, Sire.”
“Which isn’t often if I’m any judge. This has something to do with that sorcerer, doesn’t it?”
“Gaius believes so,” he answered hesitantly.
“And you were going to tell me this when exactly?” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and managed to look down his nose at Merlin while remaining seated.
“Umm, when you asked?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes under a wrinkled brow.
“Indeed.” Arthur relaxed, letting his features smooth and his shoulders slump slightly as he sighed and shook his head at his manservant. “You will go to your quarters and tell Gaius I wish to see him. Then you will get some sleep. This does not mean continue with any unfinished duties,” the prince admonished, “- no mucking stalls, no dealing with my laundry, no mending my armour- nor does it mean aiding Gaius and I will assure he knows this. You are to go to your chambers and sleep. And don’t think I won’t check with Gaius.” Internally, Arthur smiled smugly, he was fairly certain he’d covered what ‘go to bed’ meant this time, so he wouldn’t have any surprise visits from a still working Merlin. “Now, go fetch Gaius.”
Merlin looked almost hurt, but Arthur knew this had to be done. He needed his Merlin back, and until they had dealt with whatever enchantment was assailing Merlin he wouldn’t risk losing more of him to this debilitating exhaustion.
A soft, “Yes, Sire,” was Merlin’s only reply as he slowly retreated from the room.
---
“I swear if I hear another ‘Sire’ from him I’ll have him in the stocks for not being an insolent prat!”
“I’m sure he’s not doing it intentionally, Sire. He’s just been under a great deal of strain with this ailment.” Gaius spoke soothingly to the troubled prince.
“Yes, but are you any closer to breaking the enchantment, if it even is an enchantment.” Arthur stalked about his room trying not to gesticulate wildly at the healer as he spoke.
“Yes and no, Sire. It is most definitely an enchantment, however, I am no closer to understanding it or finding a way of breaking it,” the old man admitted sadly. He was beginning to fear for his young charge’s mental and physical stability, Merlin was having to fight every instinct in his being to not use his magic, and there was only so much his body and mind could take before breaking under the exertion of fighting his very nature.
Arthur paced back and forth, finally stopping at the large window next to his bed. He seemed to gaze aimlessly for a few moments causing Gaius to prompt, “Sire?”
Arthur shook himself turning to face the old physician, “I want Merlin to rest; can you fix him one of Morgana’s sleeping draughts?”
“I can certainly try.”
The blond nodded, “He’s not to perform any duties for anyone.” Arthur’s eyes flitted away for a moment. “I’ll come ‘round tomorrow to… see how things are coming.”
“Yes, Sire,” Gaius replied dutifully, barely containing the smile that threatened over Arthur’s protectiveness.
---
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when Gaius returned to their chambers. “Gaius!” He forced himself to breath. “What did Arthur want?”
“Calm down, Merlin,” the man instructed.
“But Arthur…”
“Just wanted to check on our progress,” he put a fatherly arm around the young sorcerer, “and make certain you rested as he ordered.”
Merlin’s eyes, rimmed with dark circles and traces of red, gazed plaintively at the older man as he sat down heavily, the weight of the situation seeming to transcend to a physical thing, “How can I rest when…” he threw his head down on the table where he sat.
Gaius ran soothing circles over Merlin’s back. “Arthur’s worried about you. I doubt he’s going to stray too far until he deems you well enough.”
“What’s it matter, Gaius? I can’t protect him anymore,” the desolation in Merlin’s voice was enough to break any man’s heart, let alone the old physician’s.
Sitting next to him, Gaius squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “Merlin, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in the time you’ve been here it’s that no power, of man or mystical, will keep you from doing what you feel is right or from protecting Arthur.”
A half smile flitted across Merlin’s face, his eyes peeking up taking on a slight twinkle of hope at Gaius’ words. He wanted to believe that even if they couldn’t break the spell he was under that he could still protect and care for Arthur.
“Unfortunately,” Gaius continued, “both seem to hold equal amounts of danger, which you tend to run headlong into with a certain recklessness.” The smirk on his face and in his eyes quelled any sting his words may have held.
A soft chuckle rose from the dark haired young man as he finally raised his head. “What would I do without you, Gaius?”
“Probably lose your head,” he muttered as he stood making his way to a shelf of prepared potions. “Arthur wants me to prepare you a sleeping draught,” he continued before Merlin could get maudlin over his previous comment. “Will you take it or do I need to secret it into your food?”
Merlin shot his mentor an incredulous look, “Really, Gaius?”
“Your food then,” he answered frankly, plucking a vial from the shelf. He returned to Merlin who was still looking disbelievingly at the old man. “Drink it. Prince’s orders.” He lowered his head meaningfully, “And mine.”
Merlin reluctantly took the vial and downed it. “Happy?”
“Quite.” Gaius nodded, taking the vial back. “Now, you should get into bed unless you’re planning on sleeping here, which could make it difficult for me to get any work done. Off with you,” he shooed Merlin into his own chambers and closed the door, confident that for once Merlin would sleep.
---
Arthur knocked on the physician’s door just as Gaius sat down to dinner.
“How is he?”
“Resting, m’ Lord,” Gaius gestured towards Merlin’s room and Arthur took it as a sign he was welcome to look in on his manservant.
Without hesitation the prince went to Merlin’s door, easing it open slowly, he peered inside. True to his word Merlin was asleep, though not terribly peacefully from the look of it. His dark hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and he jerked too often for comfort. Slipping the door closed he turned to the healer, “Gaius?” He motioned to the door, “He doesn’t look well.”
The old physician moved with a speed one would not credit a man of his age to have, as he brushed passed Arthur and into Merlin’s room. He immediately went to his side, brushing hair from Merlin’s brow and laying a hand there to check for fever. He turned to Arthur, who looked more concerned than was befitting a noble over his ill servant, “Sire, would you fetch me the purple flask from the table?”
Arthur hastily retrieved the bottle, “What’s wrong? Is it the enchantment?”
“I don’t believe so, Sire. More likely that the sleeping draught allowed his body to succumb to the stress it was under.” Taking the flask, Gaius lifted Merlin’s head and placed the bottle to his lips encouraging him to swallow a few drops. “That should help the fever.” As Gaius stood to leave, he saw a pale looking prince staring from the doorway. Gently, Gaius placed a hand on Arthur’s arm guiding him out of the room. “He will be fine, Arthur. I expect the fever will break by morning. You’re welcome to check on him then.”
Arthur pulled himself together giving a nod and a thankful smile to the old man, before turning on his heels and leaving.
---
The morning came slowly as Arthur tossed and turned, the soundness of sleep never truly reaching him, his thoughts constantly returning to his impertinent, brazen, and oh so infuriating manservant. Watching Merlin fall apart was having its own effect on the prince; cracking his stoic armour in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Thankfully, he’d devised a plan to end this. They would find the warlock who cursed his beloved manservant. Once Merlin no longer looked like living death, they were going on a hunt, at least, that’s what the king would be told. Nothing that required a large retinue or formal hunting party, merely a day out of the castle with whatever game they happened upon, and Arthur had every intention of happening upon a sorcerer.
He moved through training with practiced ease, Merlin never far from his mind, but tucked away so as not to distract him in his combat. He’d forced himself to go through his morning routine without rushing like some fawning girl to Merlin’s side, so it was early afternoon when Arthur finally found himself rapping on Gaius’ open door.
“Arthur!” Merlin greeted excitedly. His face was still drawn and the dark circles still played beneath his eyes, but the sparkle was returning to his night blue orbs.
“Hmph, I tell you to rest and this is what you do?” The levity in his voice betraying his true feelings.
“Well, Gaius wouldn’t let me help him, so I thought I’d see what I could find out about whatever this is.”
“Merlin,” Arthur began as he moved to sit on a stool next to where his manservant was situated on the floor, a book in his lap and several others scattered around him, “I doubt there’s anything you can divine from those books that Gaius hasn’t already discovered.”
“I have to do something, Arthur. I can’t just sit here all day.” The young man tried not to let the whine seep through his voice.
Arthur toed the book that lay in Merlin’s lap closed. “That is precisely what you’re going to do.” Arthur stared into Merlin’s eyes, “Because tomorrow, we are going hunting.” The prince smiled his most wicked mischievous smile.
“Hunting?” Merlin asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Merlin, hunting. I do believe you’ve heard of the activity. These days it usually consists of me attempting to track the game you scare away,” the blond teased without the usual menace in his voice.
Merlin’s brow wrinkled in confusion; this was one of the many times Merlin had to question Arthur’s sanity.
Arthur merely smiled, standing to leave his manservant to recuperate. “Just be ready to leave in the morning.”
Just as Arthur reached the door, the physician entered, almost colliding with the prince. “Forgive me, Sire,” he ducked his head apologetically. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked, suspecting the prince was merely there to check on Merlin.
Arthur clapped Gaius on the shoulder, giving him the same mysterious smile he’d offered Merlin. “See that he sleeps. We have a long day ahead of us,” he instructed as he left.
Gaius turned his questioning gaze on Merlin, who shrugged.
“He wants to go hunting.”
“Hunting?”
---
Early the next morning Merlin made his way towards Arthur’s chambers by way of the kitchens to pick up the prince’s breakfast.
“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur greeted his very confused manservant, “good, you’re here. Here take these,” he handed him several packed portion of food for their travels- dried meats, bread, and cheese- and packed more into the saddle bags he had with him; it was much more than would be needed on a simple two man hunt.
“Arthur, what is this?”
“Food, Merlin, I thought assuredly you’d know what that is.” Arthur made a show of looking Merlin over, “You sure you’re well enough for this?”
The young man smirked, “Yes, Sire.”
“Good, let’s go.”
When they reached the stables, two horses had already been saddled and bridled for them. Arthur tossed his saddle bags onto his horse securing them tightly, while Merlin commandeered a set of his own and filled their pockets with the food Arthur had given him.
Merlin took in the stables, the obvious lack of hunting gear, and what Merlin knew to be Arthur’s armour pack bundled and set on his horse, “Arthur, you want to tell me what we’re really doing?”
The blond continued to tend his horse. “We’re going to get answers.”
“Arthur?” Merlin’s tone was filled with worry.
“This enchantment has to be broken; nothing in Camelot has the ability to break it, so we go to the source.” He swallowed, fearing he’d let too much emotion slip through. “I can’t have my manservant falling apart and half killing himself. Morgana and Guinevere would never let me hear the end of it,” he added trying to cover himself.
Merlin smiled softly as he finished with his own horse.
No more than half an hour later they were riding out the gates of Camelot.
They rode in silence until they’d put some distance between themselves and Camelot. Arthur casting furtive, assessing glances at Merlin as they rode, assuring himself that his manservant was handling the journey.
Merlin himself was studying Arthur, trying to understand why he was doing this. He knew Arthur would and had risked his life for him before, but this felt different. Maybe it was because he felt helpless, unable to protect either of them, and not anything about Arthur at all, but he’d come to know his prince, read his moods and motives, and this he couldn’t understand.
Finally, Arthur let out a huff, “Out with it, Merlin.”
The young man jumped, "What?”
Laughing quietly, “Merlin, subtle you’re not. Your eyes have barely left me since we left Camelot, so what is it?” he encouraged.
Merlin sat a little straighter in his saddle, before asking simply, “Why?”
“Why, what?” he asked, then instructed, “And Merlin, in more than one word.”
“Why’re you doing this?”
“I told you.”
Merlin shook his head, lips taught, “No, you didn’t. Not the real reason, anyway.”
“Merlin,” annoyance and exasperation warred for dominance in his voice as he chastised himself for being so transparent to his manservant. “Just, shut up, will you,” he snapped and urged his horse ahead.
“You asked,” Merlin called.
“Shut up, Merlin.”
Merlin smiled to himself, Arthur was so easily flustered. He hoped that one day Arthur would be able to admit that he cared for Merlin, maybe not as much as the young warlock cared for the prince, but Merlin had long ago accepted that friendship was all he could ever expect from his prince.
Up ahead, Arthur was cursing himself as five kinds of fool. He’d been dying to have his mouthy Merlin back and now that he was getting some of that infuriating, lovely cockiness, he’d told him to ‘shut up’! What in the name of Camelot had he been thinking? …he’d been thinking that Merlin had been getting too close to a real answer, and Arthur wasn’t at all sure he was ready to acknowledge out loud that he honestly cared for his brazen manservant, even if what he was admitting was only a fraction of his true feelings. Still, if he wanted his Merlin, then he shouldn’t have told him to shut up the moment he showed himself. Arthur argued with himself over the best way to retrieve the situation, until his musings were interrupted by a decidedly unpleasant growling sound from his companion. It was only then that the prince realized it had been hours since they had left Camelot and Merlin most likely hadn’t eaten beforehand.
They rode on a bit further, until Arthur spotted a small clearing. He pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, trusting Merlin to follow suit.
“Why’re we stopping?” the young man asked once he was safely on the ground.
Arthur pulled two packets of food out of his bags. “You need to eat,” he announced simply, cringing at his overly protective words and hoping that Merlin hadn’t noticed.
Merlin said nothing as he smiled against his horse, stroking her mane. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today, smiling. More than he’d done in the weeks since they had returned from their encounter with the sorcerer. Being alone with Arthur had that effect on him.
The clearing held two convenient logs for them to sit on so as not to crowd each other. Something Arthur, at least, was very thankful for. He didn’t think he could be that close to Merlin right now.
Sitting on his log across from him, Arthur couldn’t help but watch Merlin as he ate. It seemed to him that Merlin was picking at his meats and cheese as if he had no appetite, which he knew from his still growling stomach his manservant did. Yet another item to give the prince cause to worry.
“I’m sorry,” the prince blurted, surprising himself and Merlin.
The brunet’s head shot up, “Excuse me?” There was no way he’d heard those words from the prince.
Arthur closed his eyes and grit his teeth; trust Merlin not to make this easy for him- a prince did not apologize to a serving boy, but he’d come this far, he might as well finish it- as much as a prince didn’t apologize, neither did he leave things half done. “I said, I’m sorry.”
Merlin looked at Arthur curiously, “For what?”
“For gods’ sakes, Merlin, can you at least pretend to make this easier on me!” The prince drew in a breath, “I’m sorry for telling you to shut up.” The words coming out with a forced calm.
Merlin blinked, then blinked again. “Uh… thank you,” he replied, his heart flipping a little at the unusual act of kindness.
They finished eating in silence, though Arthur took careful notice of how much Merlin ate, or didn’t as it were. He would need to find this wizard and fast before he lost Merlin to a worse state than he had been in two days before.
---
The trip was slow, without Merlin’s constant chatter the time seemed to drag on. Arthur had been on plenty of hunts, long patrols, and campaigns where silence or at most, quiet conversation was the normal state, but being with Merlin and having that same quiet disturbed him. He’d gone so far as to try to invoke one of their verbal sparring matches or even one of Merlin’s ramblings; anything to hear even a hint of that normally vivacious voice. Nothing worked. At best, he got a word or two in response and as the day progressed even those few words got shorter and farther between.
It was growing dark and though they had yet to reach even the halfway point of their journey, Arthur was exhausted. Spending his day worrying about Merlin, having snatches of him there then gone, was taking a greater toll than the trip itself. The roughness of the trip had Arthur idly wondering what would happen if this enchantment on Merlin continued or couldn’t be broken; what would happen if he fell prey to his own susceptibility when it came to the young man. If it came to that he knew his father would rid himself of Merlin at the first opportunity; he was ‘just a serving boy’ after all. The mere thought of being without Merlin infused the prince with yet more determination to stop this, whatever the cost. He wouldn’t lose Merlin, not now, not ever, he just couldn’t. It wasn’t a matter of want anymore, it was a matter of need; the two of them had become too close for that.
Climbing down, Arthur led their horses off the track they had been following, looking for a suitable place to make camp for the night. It didn’t take him long to find a small grove of holly trees that would provide enough cover in these cooler days of autumn.
“Merlin, set the fire,” Arthur directed without thought, mentally kicking himself for thinking he should have been kinder.
“Of course, Arthur.”
The prince allowed himself a small smile at the familiarity he’d grown to miss more than he’d thought possible; he really was getting tired of hearing ‘Sire’ pass Merlin’s lips. The smile faded quickly as he remembered earlier in the day and just how little food passed those lips. Gathering his crossbow and a set of quarrels, he told Merlin, “Get that fire going, I’ll see that we have something a bit more filling tonight.”
Arthur had turned and delved into the forest before Merlin had a chance to reply. Merlin never liked it when Arthur went off on his own, especially when the sky was darkening and they were in parts of the forest that neither knew that well. And now without his magic, Merlin was even more insecure about his prince’s safety. He tried to keep his ears trained on Arthur and the slightest sound. It was these occasions when Merlin wished he had Arthur’s gift for the hunt.
In moments it was clear that no amount of straining would allow Merlin to keep up with Arthur. When he was hunting, Arthur became the hunt. Merlin may not enjoy hunting and he may have on the odd occasion or two seen fit to make enough noise to scare off any game for miles, but he loved to watch Arthur hunt, the prowess and cunning- much the same as he showed in battle, how he seemed to channel the very earth as if it were a part of him. In some ways Merlin thought perhaps this was Arthur’s own brand of magic, though he’d never say as much to the prince or within the hearing of the king.
Forcing calm upon himself, Merlin laid and, after many futile attempts, started the fire. It was just settling into a constant flame when Arthur returned with a plump rabbit and matching pheasant.
Arthur was rather proud of the pheasant. He knew from previous hunts how much Merlin enjoyed game bird, and he knew as a servant he seldom had the opportunity to eat it. He smiled when he entered the clearing, seeing the fire alight and warm and Merlin still standing, quelling the fears that had been haunting his mind with memories of the last time he’d left Merlin to tend a fire. “Rabbit or pheasant?”
Merlin looked at Arthur curiously, a look that was becoming far too familiar to both of them on this journey.
“To prepare, I don’t intend on dressing them both myself.”
“Oh, uh,” his curious look turning to one of confusion over Arthur’s eagerness to help with anything, “the rabbit?”
Arthur rolled his eyes and tossed the animal towards his manservant, turning quickly to hide his smirk. Something about a confused Merlin eased his troubled mind.
---
It had been several hours since they’d left camp, and they were almost on the area where they’d encountered the sorcerer weeks before. As they grew closer both men could feel the change in the air; for Merlin it was a slow hum of deep unchanneled power, while the quietness and calm set Arthur’s senses on edge. They rode on, horses slowed to a hesitant crawl, as they examined their surroundings, each in their own way.
The huge creature seemed to come from nowhere; simply appearing in the middle of the trail they were travelling. Its teeth were sharp, gleaming fangs, its body scaled and covered with moss. A noise like a sick gurgling hiss came from the beast, its tongue flicking around like some great pronged snake.
Arthur’s horse reared as the tongue lashed out towards it; the moment hooves hit the ground the prince was sliding out of his saddle, drawing his sword, and shouting at Merlin to “get back”.
Arthur slashed at the creature’s tongue, nicking it causing a deep blue ichor to ooze from the wound and another gurgling hiss to scream from the creature. A large clawed paw swept at Arthur, his hunting clothes offering little protection against claws of this size. Arthur’s movements were smooth and fluid, he was in his element, a warrior. His sword crashed against a swiping claw deflecting its strike just enough for it to be painful and not deadly, stunning him momentarily.
Behind them, Merlin crouched by a tree, waiting for the right time to offer his kind of help. He knew he’d only get one chance so he’d have to make it count. Once he cast his spell, he’d fall into that terrible pit of darkness, but Arthur was the one thing he knew without doubt was worth it, the one thing he’d die for.
Merlin watched as the creature continued clawing at Arthur and Arthur deftly dodged each blow.
Arthur’s mind raced noting the method and form of each attack; he couldn’t dodge the creature forever, eventually one of them would have to break the cycle. After one powerful attack, Arthur made his move, lunging towards the creature’s vulnerable underside, only to be hit by a powerful clawed back foot that sent him sprawling to the ground, head shaken and sword just out of reach.
Another huge claw came crashing down towards the prince, still stunned from the last attack and scrabbling for his sword. “Arthur!” Merlin screamed, slipping from behind the tree; his magic already pooling, power preparing to surge from him as his arm rose preparing to direct his magic.
The blond covered his head in expectation of the attack, but before it could come he felt the air move violently as the beast was hurled back as if struck by a mighty fist. Arthur looked back in time to see a brilliant flash of gold and his eyes widened in horror as Merlin fell to the ground.
Riding on instinct Arthur rolled and stabbed at the creature’s belly, more ichor running from the wound as another horrid screech came from the enraged beast. It thrashed about wildly, trying to reach its attacker to no avail. Arthur began to feel his body thrum as if power were leaking into him, he cast a quick look at his crumpled manservant and attacked. Two more well placed stabs and the creature was falling, all fight leaving it. Arthur watched the ichor run until he was certain the creature was dead, then turned his attention back to Merlin.
At first Arthur was furious, glaring at Merlin’s prone body as if it was another monster to be slain. He growled, cursing the gods and Merlin in equal measure. And the feelings, the magic he’d felt all those times before when Merlin slipped into this almost coma-like state wrapped themselves around him and this time he knew where it came from, he just didn’t understand why. The knowledge only fuelled his anger as he yelled at Merlin’s inert form. “You inexcusable arse! A wizard! All this time! You…” Arthur raised his hand in a fist as if the threat of pounding Merlin physically into the dirt would make him feel better, it didn’t, and the pained look on Merlin’s unconscious face served only to bring all of his protective instincts to the fore. As much as it hurt him, he still would not allow any harm to befall his servant. Merlin was Merlin. “Why?” he muttered softly.
He walked around Merlin’s body several times, examining it for any signs of… what, he didn’t know; simply convincing himself that this was indeed his Merlin before him. The magic he felt swirling around them, now so obviously coming from his servant, was as warm and comforting as it had been weeks before and deep inside himself Arthur didn’t want to fight it; it was peace, it was a hidden emotion he still refused to name, it was Merlin. Finally, Arthur fell more than sat on the ground in front of the brunet. “You stupid fool,” he admonished as he reached a gloved hand to stroke Merlin’s dark hair.
*********
Note: “living death” is not a misspelling; it is a real term from the late 1500’s
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