Archive of Our Own ^beta

Merlin’s hands shook as he squeezed blood from the dirty cloth into the cup sitting before him. He reminded himself that what he was doing, he was doing for the sole purpose of protecting Arthur. Everything would be fine. It had to be. This had to work.

Morgana was becoming more dangerous every day. His magic was constantly at risk of discovery. He couldn’t take the chance that Arthur might find out and banish him, or that he might be killed by Morgana, leaving Arthur to fend for himself. He had to make sure Arthur had some form of protection.

Which is why, rather than disposing of the cloth he had used to clean one of Arthur’s wounds, he had shoved it into his bag when Arthur wasn’t looking and rushed back to his room, praying the blood wouldn’t dry as he ran.

On the floor in front of him sat the Cup of Life, the same goblet that had almost made Morgause’s army invincible. It had been surprisingly easy to convince Arthur the Cup had been lost. A bit of loose soil was hardly something to take notice of in the middle of a forest, and Arthur had been burning with fever. Uther hadn’t been pleased with the loss of such a powerful magical item, but they had kept it out of Morgause’s hands. That had been enough to appease the king.

The deception had been simple, but it had worked. And now the Cup of Life was in his possession with no one the wiser.

He wrung the dirtied cloth out, breathing a short sigh of relief when three drops fell into the goblet. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted the cup and, unsure if this was really the right way of completing the spell, brought the cup to his lips. There had been no books in the library telling him what to do; he was acting on instincts. His instincts were usually correct, but he couldn’t stop the roll of his stomach as he tipped the cup. The coppery tang of Arthur’s blood was biting, making his tongue wilt even while his mouth watered. He drank it all.

For Camelot and all of Albion, Merlin had just used magic to make Arthur Pendragon immortal.

* * *

“I need my practice armour cleaned and polished, as well as my tournament armour,” Arthur ordered, his eyes never leaving the papers strewed across his desk.

Merlin started a bit, setting the dishes he had been gathering back down on the table. “All of your armour?”

The corners of Arthur’s lips curled upwards. “Yes, Merlin. All of my armour.”

Merlin scrunched his nose. “Why? It’s just going to get dirty again. Besides, if I keep polishing it, it’s going to reflect the sun and then you’ll be all shiny. Don’t you think your enemies will notice you?”

“I’m a prince, Merlin. I have to look the part. That means shining armour, not armour that’s dull and dented. I have training early with my knights today, so make sure my lunch is brought to me on time. I won’t have very long to eat before I meet with the Council.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said. He set the dishes aside with a heavy sigh. It would best to take those down when he went to fetch Arthur’s lunch. His time would be better spent cleaning and polishing armour until then.

* * *

Two hours later found Merlin dutifully hunched over, polishing Arthur’s hauberk and checking the strength of every link while he waited for Arthur to return from training.

Merlin’s back hurt. His arms hurt. Even his head hurt. The work was physically strenuous and he had long since shed his outer coat to try and cool his overheated body. He knew that he shouldn’t have to check the hauberk for broken links anymore. The strength of Arthur’s armour should no longer matter. Arthur couldn’t be slain. But he also knew he wouldn’t trust the spell until he had seen a fallen Arthur rise again.

There was always the chance he’d done the spell wrong, too. He ran fingers over the links of metal. No, he would never foolishly risk Arthur’s life like that.

He finished the hauberk, holding it out in front of him to examine it one last time. He checked for any broken links he might have missed, gritting his teeth at the strain in his forearms.

A sharp pain in his right shoulder made him start, and the hauberk clattered to the floor. Merlin grunted and brought his left hand up to his shoulder, surprised when it came away wet with blood.

The pain was sharp, and it made him feel woozy. It reminded him abruptly of the time he’d fallen on the wrong end of his mother’s rake, one sharp spike piercing the meaty bit of his thigh.

He looked down, pushing his tunic to the side to look at the cut. It looked like he’d been stabbed by a blade.

He stood, glancing warily around the room. He remembered battle tactics Arthur had taught him, and he moved to a wall so he’d only have to keep an eye on the area in front of him. Magic crackled at his fingertips, and he surveyed the room, eyes narrowed, magic ready to fly.

Minutes trickled by and no one revealed themselves. He heard no breathing, and nothing moved. To be certain, he waited a few more moments before he finally relaxed, assured he was completely alone in the room.

He shrugged out of his tunic to get a better look. The cut was long, spanning nearly a hand’s length, but it was also quite shallow. Already, the bleeding was slowing and had completely stopped on the outermost edges. He grabbed a clean polishing rag and pressed it hard against the cut.

The bleeding stopped quickly, though Merlin was more concerned about the hauberk now lying in a crumpled pile on the floor. He picked it up with one hand, examining the links and sighing when he saw all the dirt now caught between them. Tossing the now bloody rag to the side, he pulled his tunic back on and began the tedious task of polishing Arthur’s armour. Again.

* * *By the time Arthur returned from training, Merlin had just finished laying Arthur’s lunch out on the table. He had asked the kitchens for more food that normal. Arthur was going to be training his knights twice today, so it was likely he’d be twice as hungry as he normally was.

When Arthur finally entered his chambers, he strode over to the bed and tossed his practice sword onto the still rumpled sheets.

“Merlin, help me out of this armour,” he said. He didn’t look at Merlin when he spoke. Instead, he stared vacantly out the window. His fingers traced the edges of his armour while he waited for Merlin to attend to him.

“Training went well?” Merlin asked as he made his way over.

Arthur’s grunted. It was Arthurian for It was splendid, thank you, so long as there isn’t a war anytime soon.

Merlin lifted up Arthur’s gorget and pauldron, then unbuckled his vambraces. He laid each piece out on the table so he could polish this set as well before Arthur’s training tomorrow.

“How’s the new knight?” Merlin asked.

“I think you could beat him in a sword fight,” said Arthur. Merlin had met Erec earlier in the year, before he had been knighted. Erec had defended him against two visiting nobles. The man was brilliant with a bow and throwing daggers, but close ranged weapons baffled him, and Merlin suspected that he had been knighted more for his code of honor than for his fighting skills. Very few had the courage to defend servants.

“Maybe I could practice with him some time.” It would be nice to beat his sparring partner once in a while.

Arthur only grunted again and held out his arms to let Merlin lift the hauberk above his head. When Arthur was standing in only his gambeson, he examined the links, looking for any damage.

“Someone scored a lucky hit,” he muttered, fingering the broken metal and wondering how much time he would lose to repairs.

“It was Erec, actually. I was showing him how to block a sword strike coming from an angle.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to grunt, and he gently laid the hauberk on the far end of the table so he would remember to repair it after it had been cleaned.

Arthur pulled off his gambeson and sweaty tunic and as Merlin set down the hauberk. While Arthur put on a fresh linen shirt, Merlin took the dirty tunic and threw it onto a pile of clothes he had stacked in a corner of the room to take to the launder later that day.

Arthur, who seemed to know exactly when Merlin had too many chores to do, said, “I also need the floor swept and scrubbed. Also, the ashes from the fireplace need to be emptied and the chimney cleaned. It’s getting smoky in here.”

Merlin grimaced. He could clean the floor and empty the ashes, but he hated cleaning the chimney. It was hard. He would probably end up going to the lower town and hiring someone who specialized in it. It would be more efficient and probably safer. He added a trip to the royal coffer to his mental checklist of things to do.

“I’ll take these down to the laundry then,” he said, indicating the pile of dirty clothes in the corner, “and I’ll be back with fresh bed linens. I don’t know if I can get the chimney done today, but I’ll at least go talk to someone about it. Lunch is prepared. Do you want me to stay and serve you?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, get the chores done instead. I’ll leave the dishes for you.”

Merlin nodded. He gathered all the dirty laundry and began to make his way through the halls of the castle, pondering Arthur’s behavior as he walked. He hadn’t insulted his intelligence once. Merlin shifted the laundry in his arms and resolved to nag him at dinnertime until Arthur caved and told him what the problem was.

* * *Merlin glared, hands on his hips, at the uneaten lunch sitting on Arthur’s table. Honestly, if Arthur was going to order his lunch be brought to him at a specific time, he could at least eat the food. So many villagers had to struggle each day just to get enough food to survive. Merlin had been one of those people up until three years ago, so when he saw the prince wasting good food like this, simply ignoring an entire meal, Merlin always felt the desire to throw his food into his prattish face.

Instead, he grabbed a handful of the meat off the tray and ate it quickly. He felt like he was starving.

He didn’t normally eat much, though extensive use of his magic had been known to stir up his appetite. Growing up in Ealdor, he had learned to ration as much as possible so there would be food in the winter. He wasn’t physically capable of consuming the amount of food Arthur normally did, and even if he wanted to eat more, neither he nor Gaius made enough money in their respective positions. Most of Gaius’s money went towards replenishing supplies for his potions and salves, and Merlin sent as much as he could every month to Ealdor. With the rare exception of actually being able to eat at a feast, their meals were decent and satisfying, but never very extravagant.

But Merlin felt like he’d missed a meal completely, even though he’d eaten an entire pear and one of Gaius’s thick ham sandwiches. The cold meat did nothing to absolve his hunger. He pondered this while he cleared away the rest of the lunch – quickly eating a couple mouthfuls of stale bread as well – and had just finished setting up dinner when Arthur came in.

Arthur looked at him. Whatever had been bothering him earlier was bothering him still. The corners of his mouth were drawn back and in, his lips pressed together. Merlin was tempted to offer a massage. Arthur rarely showed any sort of vulnerability, but every once in a while he would allow Merlin to rub his shoulders or his back or his temples and he would relax, sinking down into his chair, a boneless heap, while Merlin pressed a full goblet of warm wine into his hand.

Without saying a word, he finished clearing the table and pulled Arthur’s chair out for him. Arthur sat down and stared at his food for a long moment before finally taking a single bite out of the meat.

“Long day, sire?” Merlin asked. Arthur normally ate like he was starving, large bites that were quickly swallowed to make room for more food. Now, he ate like Morgana, small and dainty.

Arthur nodded, then gestured for Merlin to sit in the chair next to him. Merlin did so eagerly. He loved days like these, when he was treated more like a friend than a servant.

“Merlin, you know my feelings about sorcery, right?”

And suddenly, Merlin wasn’t as grateful to be quite so close to the prince. He wondered if Arthur could sense the stiffening of his spine or the quickening of his breath. He wiped at his now sweaty brow and hoped the motion wasn’t too obvious.

“Of course. It’s evil. That’s why it’s banned,” he replied. Did he sound nervous or afraid? Did he sound like he was hiding something?

Did Arthur know about the magic he had cast?

“Do you think there’s the possibility that— What I mean to say is, do you think, perhaps…” Arthur trailed off, staring at the window though Merlin doubted he was actually seeing anything. He cradled a tomato in his spoon, tilting the utensil back and forth, rolling the tomato yet never letting it fall.

“Yes?” Merlin prompted after a long moment of silence.

Arthur frowned, then opened his mouth to speak. He closed his mouth abruptly, and Merlin could see him swallowing. He wondered what could possibly have Arthur so flustered.

“Do you think it really is? Evil, I mean. Is it always? I know my father has his reasons, but...maybe there’s good magic too, you know?”

Merlin looked at him. He had been posed this question once before, and he remembered the pain he felt when only hours later, he found himself telling Arthur that Morgause had only used magic to try and force him to kill his father. His heart pounded. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears. His forehead was sweaty again, but for a different reason.

Was he really being given a second chance? Or was this a trick?

“No,” he breathed, finally. “No, I don’t. I think magic can be used for good.”

Arthrur frowned. He was still looking out the window. “How?” he said. “I’ve never seen it used except in an attempt to destroy my city or my father.”

Merlin bit his lip, then leaned forward and placed two fingers on Arthur’s wrist, on his pulse point. He let the steady thumping of Arthur’s heart dictate his breathing, helping him calm down. Arthur turned to look at him, perhaps shocked at the touch. Merlin never initiated the touching between them. He never pushed Arthur. “Maybe…maybe there are times you don’t see it being used. Maybe there are people all over Camelot, maybe even in the castle, who have magic and are good and just want to live and not have to worry about execution.”

Merlin felt Arthur’s gaze settle on him, and he flitted through memories, remembering every instance he’d used magic in the past month – no – the past two months. Had there ever been a time Arthur might have seen him? Had he been more careless than usual?

“Have you ever met a magic user who wasn’t evil? Because I haven’t.”

Merlin hesitated and bit his lip harder. Now was the time to tell Arthur. He could admit to everything and he knew, he just knew, that Arthur would accept him.

But he couldn’t. Something inside him, some deeply rooted sense of self-preservation stemmed from years of wondering whether he’d wake up with Uther’s soldiers dragging him out of his bed and down to the cold dungeon – that part of him wouldn’t let him tell Arthur about his powers. He tried to say yes and what about me, you prat, but the words stuck his throat, lost between his brain and his mouth.

He cleared his throat to speak. Maybe, this time, he could speak a half-truth at the very least.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think all of the sorcerers your father kills are evil. I mean…I don’t think using magic to help your crops grow so you can feed your family is evil. If…” He took a deep breath. He was going to get close, too close to the truth, but maybe… “Ealdor isn’t a big village because the soil isn’t arable. Crops don’t do well, and there were lots of winters where there wasn’t enough to eat and people died because of it. If…if I had magic…if I practiced it,” he looked Arthur in the eye and took a deep breath, because he was treading on treasonous ground, and said, “I would have used it.”

Arthur stared at him and Merlin’s heart sank. He hissed and snatched back his hand. He wondered what it would be like to burn. The heat lapping at his skin, the smoke scorching his nose and throat and making his eyes water, the pain…

He swallowed, and it hurt to swallow because there was a lump in his throat. He realized he was shaking but gods, he was stupid. You couldn’t say things like that to the Crown Prince.

He tried to fix it. He mumbled, “I would imagine, though, that if a sorcerer wasn’t evil, he probably wouldn’t make a big spectacle of himself either.”

Arthur stared at him hard, studying him. “Why would you even practice magic in land where it’s banned if you don’t have ulterior motives?”

Merlin shrugged, miserable, sinking further into himself. “Maybe some people just have magic. Maybe they don’t practice it because it’s just…there…”

Arthur let the tomato roll off the spoon. It dropped onto the plate and Arthur pressed his spoon down, making the tomato pop.

Merlin shivered and his stomach churned.

“You think so?” Arthur said as he pushed the ruined tomato around his plate.

“Yes,” he rasped.

Arthur remained silent. Then he stood and pushed his plate towards Merlin.

“I have things to do and I’m not hungry. Eat it or toss it, I don’t care. I won’t be back until late, so make sure my bed is turned down and the fire is lit before you leave.”

Merlin nodded and took the plate. He was still hungry and he ended up sitting in Arthur’s chair after Arthur left, finishing the plate before taking the dirty dishes down to the kitchen for cleaning.

And even though he had a second dinner with Gaius that night, he still went to bed with a growling stomach.

* * *When Merlin woke up, he was even hungrier than the night before. He was tired – he felt like he hadn’t slept at all – and his shoulder hurt.

He peeled back the bandages he’d wrapped around his wound the day before and winced when he saw the state of it. It was swollen and a dark red. The smell emitting from the wound wasn’t pleasant, and Merlin could feel the heat from it travelling down his arm and burning the tips of his fingers.

Merlin had spent enough time as Gaius’s apprentice to recognize an infected wound when he saw one.

He cursed under his breath and left his room, not bothering to pull on his tunic.

“Gaius,” he said. His voice wavered. He winced. He sounded every bit the girl Arthur always accused him of being.

Gaius was bent over a book, a potion of some sort boiling over the fire. He glanced up when Merlin called to him. When he saw Merlin’s state of undress, he raised an eyebrow.

“Merlin, what’s wrong?”

“I need something for an infection,” Merlin said. He gestured haplessly towards his shoulder. The redness of the infection stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin.

Gaius winced when he saw the wound. He beckoned Merlin over and fingered the wound, hissing when he felt the heat of the infection. “What happened?”

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know. I got it yesterday. I was cleaning Arthur’s armour and my shoulder started hurting. When I looked at it, it was already bleeding.”

Gaius frowned. He put water over the fire and began dabbing at the wound with a clean cloth while he waited for the water to boil. As he worked, he explained what he was doing. Merlin might be a powerful warlock, but he was still Gaius’s apprentice and he needed to learn. When the water was boiling, Gaius dipped the cloth in and then began to swipe it over the wound, redipping and reswiping several times until Merlin’s shoulder felt raw and sore and he was hissing in pain. Gaius didn’t stop, though. He dabbed honey on the edges to stave off an even worse infection until he could make a poultice for it.

When he was finished, he wrapped the wound up in clean bandages.

“Merlin, are you sure that’s how you got hurt?”

“Uh…yes?” Gaius raised an eyebrow again. Merlin felt like a disobedient child, though he couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong. “Why would I make this up?”

“There’s nothing you’re not telling me?”

Merlin blinked, then shifted awkwardly. He thought about the Cup of Life and the conversation he’d had the day before with Arthur. He shook his head.

“No, there’s nothing.”

* * *Merlin stopped at the laundress to pick up Arthur’s clean tunics and then the kitchens to fetch Arthur’s breakfast. Balancing the tray of food in one hand and tucking the clean shirts under his other arm, he made his way to Arthur’s room.

Arthur was already awake and dressed when Merlin showed up. Stifling a yawn (and really, why was he so tired today?), he place Arthur’s food down on the table and pulled out his chair, waiting for Arthur to sit down.

Arthur did. He poked at his food for a bit, then started eating.

Merlin yawned and began folding Arthur’s tunics and putting them in the wardrobe. He frowned when he noticed a rip in one, near the shoulder. He tossed that tunic to the side so he would remember to mend it later.

Merlin was the first to break the silence.

“No one’s attacked Camelot for a week,” he said cheerily, still examining the rest of Arthur’s tunics.

Arthur looked at him and raised an eyebrow, a fair imitation of Gaius, and swallowed the bit of cheese he had been eating before saying, “No, no they haven’t. I hadn’t noticed though, what with all the peace and quiet around the castle, so thank you for pointing it out for me. You are a wise man indeed. Perhaps one day I’ll even appoint you as my Advisor.”

Merlin grinned. His hunger seemed to finally be abating and it was nice to fall back into their old, teasing conversations.

“I’m just saying, it seems like there’s always someone attacking Camelot, but lately, everything has been quiet. It’s just…nice. Although, you dressing yourself this morning is a little worrying.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Just, I didn’t know you could do it. It’s strangely self-reliant of you is all. You know, I actually wasn’t aware you knew how to tie the laces of your breeches.”

“Merlin?”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Merlin laughed and he put away the last of Arthur’s clean tunics.

“Yes, sire,” he said, still smiling happily to himself. He didn’t notice Arthur watching him until he turned around to pick up the ruined tunic. When he finally took in Arthur’s serious gaze, he blinked in surprise. “What?”

“What happened to your shoulder?” Arthur asked.

“Huh?” He had expected Why are you doing your chores without being told? or Thank you for being such an excellent servant before he’d expect Arthur to notice the scratch on his shoulder – the scratch that Arthur hadn’t been told about nor was it possible for him to see.

“The way you’re moving,” Arthur said. “You’re favouring your shoulder. It’s hurt.”

“I am? Er…is it that obvious?”

“Merlin, I’m trained to recognize when my own men are injured. I think I can tell when a servant is hurt. What happened?”

Merlin frowned, a bit taken aback. “It’s really nothing. I cut myself, but it’s not bad. It’s a little infected is all.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, and Merlin, realizing infection would be a key word for Arthur, who had likely seen too many men die on the battlefield from wounds that festered, hastened to explain.

“Gaius took care of it earlier. I’m sure it’ll be good as new in a couple days.” He grinned and shrugged his shoulders, trying to show he was fine and still had full range of movement. “He’s making a poultice for it right now.”

Arthur frowned, but relented. “If you’re fine, then I’m sure you won’t mind scrubbing these floors and polishing my practice armour, which I noticed you never got around to doing last night. At this rate, I’ll have rusty practice armour and I won’t have to worry about battling enemies or grand quests because my own knights will already have slain me in training.”

Merlin didn’t seem to hear Arthur’s tirade.

“You want me to scrub your floors and polish your armour?” Just the thought of all that physical labor made Merlin’s wound throb.

“I thought you said you were fine.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not that fine,” Merlin said. He looked at the dirty floor, the glanced at Arthur from under his lashes. “Do I really have to?”

He’d be damned, but it looked as if Arthur was actually blushing. “Well, no.” Arthur stood and walked to the door. He stopped and faced Merlin. “Get some of the younger servants to do the scrubbing and polishing. You should go to the kitchen. You’re so skinny people will think I’ve been starving you, and won’t that be a blot on my sparkling reputation?”

Merlin blinked.

“Besides,” Arthur said, clearing his throat. “You won’t heal enough to take care of my armour if you don’t care of yourself first.” He turned and left without another word.

Merlin blinked again. “Well that was weird.”

He grabbed Arthur’s torn tunic from the bed and left the room. He’d give Gwen the garment to mend, and after he would go to the kitchens, where he fully intended on begging a slice of fresh bread and some roasted pork from the cook.

* * *Strike. Parry. Block. Thrust.

Arthur moved automatically, barely needing to concentrate to effectively block Erec’s attacks.

Erec grunted as their swords collided, and he fell backwards. Arthur stepped back. “On your feet,” he ordered. When Erec once again stood in front of him, sword gripped tightly, Arthur said, “Again.”

“Widen your stance,” Leon said from the sidelines.

Erec did, then charged Arthur. Their swords clanged together, and for the first time, Erec seemed to have some real fight in his eyes. His sword thrusts hit hard, and his feints were quick.

Arthur grinned and threw himself at Erec, enjoying the thrill of the fight. He felt like he was invincible, like nothing could touch him. He didn’t feel the strain on his muscles nor any pain when Erec’s sword landed a lucky blow on the top of his thigh, although he was sure to have a bruise later.

They stepped back from each other. Arthur was barely winded, but Erec was panting.

“You’re getting better,” Arthur said.

“Not as good as you, sire,” Erec said, offering a small smile.

Arthur laughed. “Yes, well, give it time. You haven’t reached your full potential yet.”

Erec grinned, and shifted slightly to the left. He lowered his arms too far, leaving himself open for attack, and Arthur lunged. The blade of his sword caught the hilt of Erec’s, sending it flying far out of Erec’s reach.

Arthur tapped his sword against Erec’s throat. “My win.”

Erec lowered his head slightly, conceding defeat. “Yes, sire. Your win indeed.”

“Again,” Arthur said.

Erec shook his head. “I want to, sire, but I’m afraid I need to rest for a short bit.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. The brief rush of being in a proper fight had allowed him to forget, for just a moment, the strange change overtaking his body. He pressed a hand against his leg, where Erec had struck him. He felt no pain.

“Alright,” he said. “Let us all take a break. Training will resume in an hour.”

The knights shuffled off, heading for the kitchens or the armoury. Arthur intended to follow them, but he wasn’t hungry nor thirsty, and he’d rather train some more than socialize.

He knew it wasn’t normal to be energetic without sleep, satisfied with no food or drink, and uninjured when struck with a blade. A part of him, the leader in him that saw strategy and ways to defeat the enemy, recognized the advantage he had.

No one was being hurt, he told himself. No matter what had caused this, even if it was magic – for really, what else could it be – he was the only one affected.

He remembered the conversation with Merlin, about sorcery and good and evil. Maybe there was good magic. Maybe someone was trying to help him.

* * *Merlin wondered if he was ill. He’d never felt exhaustion like this before. His arms and legs throbbed, like he’d been cleaning Arthur’s armour for hours with no respite. It was a bone deep exhaustion that constantly threatened to pull him under, into an inky blackness that his body craved.

His hunger had come back with a vengeance as well. His shoulder had not gotten better like he thought it would. No matter what poultice or salve Gaius applied to it, the infection only got worse and Merlin knew he had begun to develop a fever. He’d also found another cut on his person, and it too showed signs of infection.

To make matters worse, Arthur was so involved with his knights that he couldn’t beg him for a respite. He showed up to bring Arthur his breakfast, only to find the prince already dressed and heading out the door. A list of chores would be waiting for him on the table. At lunch, Merlin would bring a tray of food for Arthur and always, Arthur’s breakfast would still be sitting there, cold and untouched. Merlin would scarf it down and suppress a sob when, even after a prince’s breakfast, he still felt so hungry. His chores were shorter, and often easier because of his shoulder, but his exhaustion made the list near impossible to complete.

He hated to appear weak in front of Arthur, but when he’d awoke that morning and the world had tilted dangerously around him, he knew it was time to ask for a day or two off. He pulled on his jacket and headed out towards the training grounds, knowing that was likely where Arthur would be.

* * *Arthur was demonstrating a block with Leon when he spotted Merlin leaning against a tree.

“Erec, pair with Leon and continue until you master this move. It may well save your life.”

“Yes, sire,” Erec said, dutifully moving to stand before Leon.

Arthur made his way towards Merlin, taking in his manservant’s appearance. He was paler than normal, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. He was still favouring his shoulder.

Something nagged in the back of his mind, something important, but he pushed it aside. It could wait until he’d seen to Merlin.

“Merlin, what the hell are you doing out here? I know I didn’t assign you as many chores, but you shouldn’t be done just yet,” Arthur said, laughing lightly.

“No, I just…” Merlin shifted, looking at his feet.

“Well, spit it out.”

“Can I have a day or two off?” Merlin blurted out.

Arthur tilted his head. Was Merlin really sick?

“Merlin–” he began, but he didn’t have time to say anything else because at that moment, Merlin swayed where he stood.

He went to steady Merlin, and Merlin began to move towards him. He taken only a few steps when his eyes rolled back in his head, leaving only the whites visible.

When Merlin’s knees buckled, Arthur was close enough to catch him. He clutched Merlin close to him, feeling a far too rapid heartbeat against his chest, and he gently lowered him to the ground.

“Merlin,” he said. “Merlin, wake up. Come on, wake up.”

He cradled Merlin’s face with one hand, trying to be gentle so his armour didn’t press into him uncomfortably.

Merlin’s eyes fluttered rapidly, and he made a noise that Arthur thought could loosely be interpreted as his name.

“Merlin? Merlin, wake up.”

And then Merlin’s eyes opened, though Arthur could tell he wasn’t focusing properly. “Ar’hr?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, smiling and touching Merlin’s face – his cheekbones, his sweating forehead. “I’m here. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said. His eyes looked through Arthur, and it frightened him.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” Although really, who would want to hurt Merlin?

“No...just tired...” His eyes started to drift close again.

“Merlin, stay awake,” Arthur said. He shook Merlin slightly, and Merlin’s head lolled back and forth, but he didn’t waken again. Arthur cursed.

“Arthur, he needs to be taken to Gaius,” someone said. Arthur looked up to see Erec standing over them.

Arthur blinked. Of course, Gaius. He should have thought of that right away.

“Run ahead. Make sure he knows we’re coming,” Arthur said. Erec nodded and took off.

Arthur shook Merlin again, more forcefully than the last time. Merlin started awake.

“Wha–?”

“No time for questions. We’re taking you to Gaius,” Arthur said. He hoisted Merlin up, wrapping one arm around Merlin’s waist to keep him from tipping over. “Let’s go.”

Merlin stumbled along beside him, tripping every other step and almost making Arthur pitch forward a couple times. Arthur grunted but didn’t complain.

He did fall to his knees when Merlin collapsed. He grunted, but then Merlin’s weight was lifted off of him. He looked up to see Leon.

“Let me help you, sire.”

Together, he and Leon carried an unconscious Merlin to Gaius’s chambers. When they arrived, they deposited Merlin on the bed Gaius normally reserved for his patients. Merlin grunted, but otherwise showed no signs of stirring.

“Gaius!” Arthur shouted. There was no reply. Arthur turned to Leon. “Leave us. Go help Erec search for Gaius. We need him here now.”

“Of course, sire,” Leon said.

Arthur didn’t watch Leon leave, his complete attention focused on Merlin.

Arthur had faced down monsters – human, beast, and magical – all his life, but the moment Merlin had stumbled and fallen, looking dead even while upright, was one of the few moments he recalled being truly afraid.

Merlin was very sick. Now that he was off the field, he pulled off his gauntlets and felt Merlin’s skin. He was so hot, Arthur winced. He’d seen men die from a fever that high, and the thought of Merlin dying...

That was a trail of thought he didn’t feel like following.

He stroked Merlin’s feverish face and neck then removed the neckerchief and laid a cloth soaked in water over Merlin’s throat to cool his blood. He dabbed another damp cloth along his forehead, wringing it out over Merlin’s hair and using his hands to comb the water through.

He unlaced Merlin’s tunic and spread it to allow his skin more exposure to the air, and frowned at the heat he felt emanating from just above Merlin’s right arm. He gently pushed Merlin’s jacket and tunic to the side, locating the bandage wrapped around his shoulder.

Even without baring the wound, Arthur could smell the infection. Merlin had told him everything was fine and the wound was nothing to worry about, but a wound that smelled like that would had have to have been festering for days. Arthur pushed Merlin’s arm out so it was perpendicular to his body and carefully unraveled the bandage.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

The cut on Merlin’s arm was badly infected. It was raw and red and swollen, and there was greenish pus lining the open edges of the wound, which peeled back in a way that made Arthur feel sick. Tendrils of dark green ran from the wound where the infection was beginning to enter Merlin’s bloodstream, and the smell was horrendous.

And though he’d seen men die from infections like this, it wasn’t what scared him, or what caused sweat to drip from his brow. Because he knew that wound.

He’d received it four days ago when he had been sparring with Erec.

Shakily, Arthur stood up and found a pot. He filled it with water and put it over the flame to boil. Gaius still wasn’t there, but Merlin needed tending to. Arthur knew enough of battle wounds to be able to clean Merlin’s shoulder.

While he waited for the water to heat, he thought of the other injuries he had suffered in the past few days. There hadn’t been many, but there were enough that he felt panic settle high in his chest.

He went back to the bed pushed up Merlin’s tunic, crying out softly when he saw the cut on Merlin’s side, where it looked as if someone had struck him with a knife. This one was deeper than the cut on his shoulder and was already showing signs of what promised to be a bad infection.

Arthur moved lower on the bed and, apologizing silently for what was likely a breaching of Merlin’s modesty, he untied the laces of Merlin’s breeches and lifted his hips. He slid the trousers down until they were bunched around his knees. A bruise spread across Merlin’s thigh, light blue and very recent, but promising to be ugly and painful.

Swallowing heavily and breathing deeply in an attempt to slow his racing heart, Arthur redressed Merlin and grabbed the boiling water from the fire. He would tend to Merlin while he was waiting for Gaius to appear. He had to wait. He couldn’t leave. He knew what was happening and he had to tell Gaius why Merlin’s life was in danger.

By the time Gaius got back, Arthur had finished cleaning Merlin’s shoulder and applying a poultice he had found in a clay jar, likely the one Gaius had originally made for Merlin’s shoulder. It smelled and felt like the one Gaius often gave him for his battle wounds. He was almost thankful Merlin was unconscious. From experience, he knew how stinging the poultice could be.

“What happened?” asked Gaius. He sounded breathless and his face was flushed. Arthur realized he must have run up several flights of stairs. He’d obviously been told it was Merlin that was ill.

“He collapsed on the training grounds. He came to me and said he wasn’t feeling well, then collapsed. So I brought him here.” Arthur hesitated and bit his lip, unsure of just how to go about this. But Gaius had once practiced magic, so perhaps he had the answers Arthur needed.

“Sire?”

Arthur didn’t notice how long he had been silent, contemplating a decision while a voice in the back of his mind shouted treason! treason! treason! at him. A quick glance down at Merlin, however, had Arthur pushing aside his fears. If his father accused him of performing magic or consorting with sorcerers, he would face the consequences. Right now, Merlin needed him.

“I was just checking the bruise on his leg,” Arthur said.

Gaius stared at him, confused. “Why did you think he had a bruise on his leg? I thought he said it was his shoulder that was infected?”

Arthur shook his head and took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I knew there was a bruise on his leg because I have one on my leg.”

Gaius looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Look,” Arthur said, gesturing towards Merlin’s shoulder. Despite all the attention Arthur had given it, the cut still looked swollen and painful. “Now help me out of my armour,” he ordered.

Gaius did so, only hesitating slightly, and the old man winced when Arthur carelessly threw the armour on the floor near the foot of Gaius’s bed, the clanging of metal hitting stone echoing against the walls. He undid the laces to his tunic and slid it over his right shoulder.

There, clearly visible, was a cut identical to Merlin’s in size and shape, but different in every other way. Arthur’s shoulder looked as if it hadn’t bled at all. The skin was flushed red with healthy exertion, and a shallow white line crossed it, but that was it. When Gaius prodded at it, he said he felt no pain.

“I got this four days ago when I was sparring with a knight. Since then, I’ve gotten two more wounds, one on my side and one on my leg. Merlin has identical wounds in those same places, but where mine aren’t painful and won’t even bleed, his are infected,” Arthur said.

Gaius frowned and examined the two other injuries, both on Arthur’s person and on Merlin.

“Do you know what this means Gaius?” Arthur asked.

Curiously, Gaius paled and looked almost mournful. Arthur didn’t know what to make of that, but when Gaius nodded and mumbled “sorcery,” Arthur flinched. He wondered if Gaius would turn him in and if his own father would burn him at the stake when they found what he had done, what he had allowed to happen within the very walls of Camelot.

But Merlin was hurting. Merlin was the one being punished by whatever spell had been cast, and Arthur had to help him fix it.

“Yes, sorcery,” agreed Arthur. “Someone cast a spell on me.”

Gaius paused and looked at Arthur, considering. “Someone? You don’t know who?”

Arthur shook his head. “But I don’t understand why they would cast a spell like this. I mean, I’m the prince of Camelot. Shouldn’t I be the last person any sorcerer would want to make invincible.”

Realization flashed across Gaius’s face, and if Arthur didn’t know better, if he wasn’t aware of exactly how loyal Gaius was to his father, he would have thought that Gaius had figured everything out. But that couldn’t be. Gaius loved Uther and would never practice sorcery. Not anymore. He couldn’t have any knowledge of these events.

Could he?

And then Gaius had turned back to Merlin. He took the cloth draped across Merlin’s neck and rewetted it before putting it back. He took the other cloth and began dabbing at Merlin’s brow. In his sleep, Merlin licked his chapped lips. Arthur was alarmed to see how wan he looked. His normally pink lips where ashen, like his face. He looked...dead.

“That certainly is unusual, sire. Tell me, how exactly do you know a spell was cast on you?”

Arthur hesitated only a brief moment. Then he took a deep breath and spoke, explaining everything in as much detail as he could manage, being careful not to leave anything out.

“May I ask one thing, sire?” Gaius said, when Arthur had finished. “Why you didn’t go to your father immediately if you suspected sorcery?”

Arthur hesitated a moment before admitting, “I just thought...I didn’t know about Merlin. I thought it was just me.” He cleared his throat. “Merlin’s wounds, or my wounds, whatever, are infected. Shouldn’t we clean them?”

“I wonder,” Gaius murmured. Arthur’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion. Sighing, he dipped the cloth he’d been using to mop Merlin’s brow back into the cool water and laid it over Merlin’s forehead before retrieving yet another cloth and the pot of hot water.

“Can I help?” Arthur asked.

“Yes. Fetch more cloths and some bandages and attend to the wound on his leg while I clean his side. You appear to have done a good job on his shoulder. I don’t think there’s anything more we can do for it at the moment.”

Arthur nodded and did as he was told. He flushed hotly as he undid Merlin’s trousers for the second time and pulled them down around knobbly knees. He was embarrassed for Merlin, embarrassed that he had to be stripped like this in front of the person he considered his father, despite the professionalism of the situation. He kept his own eyes focused on the wound and tried to breathe the flush away, his fingers deftly spreading a poultice over the rapidly spreading bruise.

It was Gaius who broke the silence first. “I’m not sure Merlin’s really the one I should be attending to right now.”

Arthur paused in the task of refastening Merlin’s breeches and looked at Gaius. “Pardon?”

“We don’t know the exact nature of this spell, but I would assume that whatever should hurt you is actually hurting Merlin.”

Arthur nodded. He had grasped that much.

Gaius let out a frustrated sigh. “Honestly! If your wounds are transferred to Merlin and they aren’t treated on your person, it’s not surprising Merlin’s are becoming infected. I would assume the best way to treat Merlin, Arthur, is to treat yourself.”

Arthur flushed hotter. Of course, that should have been obvious. Merlin always prattled on about how great a king he’d be, and here was the proof that Merlin was a fool to place his faith in him.

Wordlessly, Arthur peeled off his tunic. He didn’t say anything when Gaius cleaned the bloodless wound on his shoulder and his side, and he obeyed when Gaius motioned for him to remove his trousers so the poultice could be spread over unblemished skin. He felt silly being treated for painless, bloodless injuries, but pushed aside his pride.

“Do you really think this will help?” Arthur asked when Gaius had finished. Poultices had been spread over each injury and the two on his upper body had been carefully bandaged.

“There’s no way to tell for certain this early, but I think we’ll be able to tell by Merlin’s condition tomorrow.”

Arthur nodded and swallowed, the unfamiliar sensation of guilt making his throat clench uncomfortably. He’d lived all his life being told it was pointless to feel guilty about anything. As a king, his decisions would always affect other people, and not always for the better. It was an inescapable destiny; no king could please every person.

But he had also been taught that sorcery was evil, and now he knew why. How foolish he had been, to think there might be some rogue magic-user out there who was trying to protect him. He had wanted so badly to believe that, when he was king, he wouldn’t have to continue the frequent executions. He didn’t want the screaming and crying and burning to taint his kingdom.

He had wanted to believe that good magic existed.

But the sorcerer hadn’t been trying to protect him. There wasn’t a good magic and a bad magic, there was just magic and it was all bad. He didn’t know what this sorcerer’s intentions were, but they had hurt Merlin, had caused Merlin to suffer, and Arthur wouldn’t stand for anyone hurting someone who’s protection and safety he was directly responsible for.

Whoever this sorcerer was, Arthur was going to make them pay.

Arthur stood up, mumbling some excuse about papers he needed to read, and began to make his way towards the door. He needed air. He wanted out.

“Not so fast,” Gaius called out. Arthur turned back, scowling and ready to embark on a tirade about who was the prince and who was not, but Gaius looked at Merlin pointedly.

“Arthur, you said you hadn’t eaten or slept either, correct?”

And Arthur knew where this was going and he deflated, sank in on himself. Merlin wasn’t just suffering from an infection. Merlin was suffering from starvation and dehydration and exhaustion. He hadn’t thought he could feel guiltier than he had moments earlier. He had been wrong.

“Merlin’s been complaining of hunger and exhaustion the last few days, and now I know why. You need to eat and you need to sleep.”

Arthur bit his lip. “I can eat,” he finally said, “but I don’t know if I can sleep. I’ve tried sleeping, and it just...doesn’t happen. I can’t fall asleep.”

Gaius frowned. “And it wouldn’t do to give you a sleeping potion because it wouldn’t affect you. Only Merlin would feel the effects.”

Arthur felt the hopelessness of the situation and one startling truth hit him like a punch to his gut. Merlin was really, truly, going to die.

Arthur couldn’t stop being a knight, and eventually he was going to get a wound that Merlin’s body – soft, not hardened like a knight’s – wouldn’t be able to handle. And that was only if he survived months with, essentially, no sleep, and only assuming Merlin’s current infected wounds would heal by treating the injuries on Arthur’s body.

Arthur had no idea what to do. He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

It was several moments before he realized Gaius was speaking to him.

“What?” he said.

Gaius looked at him, agitated, and Arthur mumbled a hasty apology.

“You have to start taking care of yourself. Eat regularly. Eat like you would normally eat if this whole thing hadn’t started. Stop training for a while–”

“I can’t stop training,” he muttered. “My knights need me.”

“And what about Merlin? Doesn’t he need you?” Gaius said, harshly, and Arthur straightened in his chair, shocked, because he could count on one hand the number of times Gaius had scolded him in his life. Every time, he’d deserved it, and even now, his anger was like a physical force that knocked the air out of his chest. He stood, stumbling over something on the floor and almost crashed to the ground.

“You know that your own exhaustion has contributed to this, and you are making a choice. You are choosing the training of your knights, of which I know there are several good enough to substitute in your place for awhile, over Merlin’s life.” In a softer voice, Gaius said, “Please, don’t do this.”

Arthur felt a laugh – a hysterical laugh – bubbling in his chest. He forced it down. He recalled Merlin telling him to listen more often.

He was going to listen now.

Arthur nodded. “Leon is more than capable of training the knights for…however long it takes to get this sorted out.”

“Good. Now, in the meantime, you are to eat, drink plenty of water to help rehydrate Merlin, do as little physical activity as possible, and try to sleep.”

“I can’t move around or anything?”

“Try not to. If you can’t sleep, than any activity you do is just going to make Merlin worse. I can tell Uther you’re ill and that you need to take a week off to recuperate. If it comes down to it, I’m sure you can...do something to convince him.”

Arthur nodded, not voicing his doubts.

“Good. Now, go to your chambers and remain there for the rest of the day. Try to sleep. Have a servant bring you more food than normal and eat it all, even if you’re not hungry. Keep you injuries clean. I’ll send you up with some fresh bandages. Even though they aren’t bleeding, change them every three or four hours and make sure to apply this poultice with every changing.” He pressed a clay jar and a bundle of bandages into Arthur’s arm.

Arthur left Gaius’s apartments and ordered the first passing servant to inform Leon he was to train the knights and then bring him a dinner for two and have it delivered to his room. When he got back to his chambers, he deposited his bundle onto the seat of a chair and pushed the chair against the table, hiding the contents. Anyone entering his room wouldn’t see the bandages unless they sat at his own private table, and none but Merlin would dare attempt that.

* * *Gaius waited until he was sure Arthur wouldn’t be returning before turning and going into Merlin’s room. He found the loose floorboard and pulled it back, removing Merlin’s magic book from within.

He opened the book as he made his way back to the main room. He had owned this book for ages before he had given it to Merlin. He knew the pages. The rough paper on the inside and the smooth leather of the binding were as familiar to him as his own hands and body. It took him very little time to find the spell he was looking for.

Gaius studied the words on the page for a moment, committing them to memory. He wasn’t like Merlin. Magic wasn’t an innate ability. Whereas Merlin could reach deep inside himself and pull words from his core, twisting and manipulating them to do his bidding, Gaius had to spend years practicing to find the magic inherent in the world in order to channel in through his own body using words already written down.

After he was sure he knew the words, he set the book to the side, placed a hand gently on his ward’s forehead, and commanded “Áwæce.”

Merlin’s eyes flew open, his body arching as it automatically responded to the magic thrumming through the air. His eyes shifted back and forth frantically and he gasped, body aching for air. Gaius moved his hand to the side of Merlin’s face, cupping his cheek and tilting his head until he was in Merlin’s line of sight. Merlin calmed the instant he saw Gaius. His body settled back down onto the bed and his breathing became less panicked.

“What happened?” Merlin asked. His voice was hoarse and Gaius recognized the signs of dehydration.

Gaius patted Merlin’s shoulder. When Merlin struggled to sit up, Gaius reached out and helped, settling back once Merlin was braced against several pillows.

“Merlin,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Merlin blinked quickly. “Can it wait? I don’t feel so good.” He started to lean, tipping to one sign, and Gaius reached out and steadied him, forcing him to lean back and let the pillows support his body.

“Merlin!”

“Huh? Wha-?”

“Stay awake. We need to figure out what happened?”

“I’m awake,” Merlin muttered. “I’m just...tired.”

“I know, but Arthur promised he’d try and get some sleep. He won’t train his knights and he’ll refrain from physically exerting himself in any way. He’s also going to eat and drink lots of water,” Gaius said.

Merlin frowned. “All right,” he said, slowly, uncomprehending.

Gaius sighed. “Merlin, someone put an enchantment on Arthur. Someone who I think was trying to protect him.”

Merlin looked down and picked at the hem of his tunic. He swallowed heavily and refused to meet Gaius’s eyes. He’d done something unforgivable. He’d played with Arthur’s mortality without Arthur’s consent.

Merlin found himself, for the first time in his life, wondering if Uther was right about magic.

Gaius gripped his chin and forcibly raised his head to look in his eyes.

“Merlin. What did you do?”

Merlin bit his lip and thought of lies. He could tell Gaius he didn’t know who the sorcerer was, or that he had wanted to take Arthur’s pain but not mention the magic, but he was tired and hungry and his shoulder throbbed. He looked up and told Gaius the truth about the spell he had performed.

It took only a few stuttered words before tears began to fall. Not sure what to do with his hands, he picked pieces of lint from his tunic. He stared fixedly at his moving hands as he spoke and wondered if Gaius would hand him over to Uther. Did he deserve it for playing with Arthur’s life as he had done?

Gaius surprised him by pulling Merlin into a tight hug when he went silent. The surprise of the embrace and the fact that Gaius didn’t hate him was too much, and Merlin’s tears turned into harsh sobs. He raised his hands and fisted them in Gaius’s robes as he pressed his face into Gaius’s shoulders.

Gaius didn’t turn him away. He stroked the back of Merlin’s hair with one hand, fingers raking gently through dark curls, while his other hand rubbed circles into his shaking back.

“Shh, dear boy,” Gaius murmured into Merlin’s hair.

It felt like forever - his throat ached and his eyes itched and his nose felt wet and gross and impossible to breathe through - but his sobs subsided and he was able to pull away. He scrubbed his face with the sleeve of his jacket, hiccupping. He jumped when he something wet pressed against his feverish face, but calmed when he realized it was just a cool, damp cloth. It felt good against his skin, and he leaned into the touch.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Gaius said.

Merlin only looked at him bleakly. He wasn’t sure there was a way out of this mess.

Gaius stood and went to his worktable, coming back with three bottles.

“I want you to take these, just in case. This one,” he held up a small bottle filled with a bright blue potion, “will help your body fight an infection. If Arthur does as I’ve instructed him to, then you should be healing in no time.”

Merlin had no idea what Arthur would have to do to help him out, but he accepted the bottle and quickly down the contents. For such a pretty potion, it tasted vile.

“And this bottle,” he now held up a potion that vaguely resembled mucky pond water, “is to help with malnutrition. You’ve effectively been starving yourself for four days. If Arthur’s eating now, which is what he should be doing, this will help your body recover.”

Merlin took the bottle but didn’t immediately down the contents. “But I’ve been eating. Lots!”

“But Arthur hasn’t.”

Merlin frowned and raised an eyebrow, doubtful.

“Just take the potion, Merlin. You need to recover before we can figure out how to fix this.”

He eyed the potion, but nonetheless reached out and drank its contents obediently.

“And this is a sleeping draught. I think we can counteract all the other negative side effects except for the exhaustion. The only solution I can think of is to give you the best restful sleep I can while you recover. Hopefully, we can figure out everything before the situation gets too dire.”

Gaius handed Merlin a bottle that he recognized. It was identical to what he had always given Morgana for her nightmares. Merlin licked his lips, nervous, not understanding why Gaius wanted him to sleep a drugged sleep.

“Gaius, what’s going on?”

“Sleep.” He unstoppered the bottle for Merlin and guided it to his lips. “I’ll tell you when you’ve woken up and aren’t quite so exhausted and feverish.”

Merlin’s eyelids weighed heavily and his body sagged, so when Gaius began tipping the bottle and the contents, sweet and honey flavored, washed over his tongue and carried away the taste of the previous two potions, he didn’t resist. He swallowed and let Gaius support him when he slumped after consuming only half of the bottle.

Through a sleepy haze, he felt the rest of the contents poured into his mouth and a steady hand stroking his throat, coaxing his muscles to swallow, before darkness claimed him.

* * *Arthur swallowed another bite of pork and washed it down by finishing his third goblet of water. He really didn’t want to eat anymore. He felt like he had gorged at a feast, like his breeches were too small now, and the sight of the food he hadn’t eaten, plates of roasted venison, a bowl of a hearty vegetable and beef stew, nauseated him.

But the thought of Merlin, pale, feverish, dying on Gaius’s bed, had him raising his fork to his lips again and swallowing another bite of meat.

When the plates of food were finally empty, he changed into a comfortable nightshirt and grabbed a book he’d been slowly working his way through. He duties didn’t allow much time for reading, normally only a few pages at night before Merlin left, blowing out the candles in the room and locking the door behind him, but he genuinely enjoyed the peaceful activity when he had the time.

He laid in bed, pillows propping up his torso and the open book resting on his knees, and he began to read about the adventures of Sir Caedmon.

He had been reading for an hour, lazily taking in the words on the page as the busy sounds of the courtyard marketplace filtered through the open window, when there came a knock on the door.

Grumbling half-heartedly about missing manservants, Arthur got out of bed and shuffled to the door. Morgana stood on the other side, alone.

“Arthur?” She looked him up and down. “It’s not even dark out.”

Arthur shrugged. “I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to lie in.”

Morgana frowned and put her hand on his forehead. Arthur rolled his eyes and swatted it away.

“You don’t have a fever,” she said. He turned away from her and headed back into the room in hopes she would understand and leave. As always, though, she deliberately ignored his wishes for solitude. She entered his room and shut the door behind her. When he sat down at his table, next to the chair where the bandages were still hid, she stood across from him.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her arms folded across her chest and a stern look about her face.

Arthur meant to say yes and I’m fine, why would I be anything else, but the knowledge of Merlin’s condition and how his own recklessness was the cause made his heart ached inside his chest. There was a lump in his throat that it made it hard for him to swallow, and damn it all, his lower lip was trembling. He covered his mouth with a fist to hide it and keep himself silent. He didn’t mean to tell Morgana everything.

But he did.

He told Morgana about how he had suspected sorcery when his shoulder was injured but fine at the same time. And when he found he didn’t need to eat or sleep, he knew for certain that magic was involved. He told Morgana how he discovered every hurt that befell him, Merlin experienced in his stead.

Morgana listened patiently. She moved to perch on the edge of the table and held his hand within both of hers. She frowned when she heard of Merlin’s condition and Arthur remember Merlin sneaking flowers into her bedchambers, watching her as she walked through the hall. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was anything between them, and he hated the way that thought made something twist low in his gut.

“I heard he collapsed on the training field. I wanted to make sure he was alright.” She bit her lip and looked concerned and Arthur thought yes, she did care for him and where does that leave me?

“I don’t know. I don’t...I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if it’s possible.” He felt like crying. If Morgana wasn’t there, he might have.

Morgana squeezed his hand, her thumbed rubbing soothing patterns on the inside of his wrist, over his pulsepoint. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Will we?” Arthur asked. He pulled his hand free and stood, beginning to pace. He wanted to laugh and scream and cry, all at the same time, because he was a prince concerned about a servant he thought he might love, but instead he was effectively killing. “How? How are we going to figure anything out? I can’t help Merlin. I can’t do anything but sit up in my room and read a book. There aren’t monsters to fight, there aren’t–” He bit his lip and braced himself against the ledge of his fireplace, his forehead resting against the smooth wood. “There’s nothing I can do for him.”

“Oh, Arthur. Don’t you get it, you’re doing so much for him. You’re sitting up here and tending to your injuries and eating. And that’s what’s going to give Merlin enough time. We’ll find the sorcerer and we’ll get him to reverse the spell,” Morgana said.

“We?”

“Of course, we. Gwen and I will be helping out, too. He’s our friend as much as he is yours,” Morgana assured him.

“Of course he is.” Arthur felt himself reddening. Of course Gwen and Morgana would want to help. Merlin was adored by everyone.

Morgana gripped him by his shoulders and pushed him towards his bed. “Now, get back into bed and read your book. I’ll inform Gwen of the situation, and I’ll send a servant up with some more food and some wine. Merlin sounds like he could use all the food he could get.” She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “We will fix this.”

And with that, she swept out of the room, her shoes clicking determinedly against the stone floor. Arthur stood for a moment, gazing at the path of her exit long after she had gone. He sighed, finally, and grabbed his book, climbed back into his bed, and resumed reading.

* * *Morgana leaned against the outside of Arthur’s closed door and bit her knuckle to stifle her laughter..

Her only regret was that Merlin wouldn’t know who exactly was responsible for his death.

Touching her bracelet, she sent a mental message to Morgause. Her sister would be pleased to hear the news.

* * *It took Merlin a day and a half to awaken. During the time he slept, his fever disappeared and his injuries went from swollen and pus-filled to a dull red.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Gaius hunched over the worktable and Gwen stirring something in the cauldron over the fire.

He tried to ask what had happened, but all that escaped him was a raspy croak. Gaius and Gwen looked up at him, and both immediately stood and moved to his side.

“Merlin, you’re awake,” said Gwen. She smiled brightly at him and reached out to smooth his fringe and feel the heat of his forehead.

“Yeah,” Merlin tried again. His words were intelligible, though still harsh sounding.

“Here, help him drink some water.” Gaius handed Gwen a cup of water and she cradled the back of his head, helping him lean forward so he could drink. She pressed it against his lips and tilted, like Gaius had with the sleeping draught, but Merlin felt good and energized when he drank, not dull and sleepy.

She pulled the cup away before he was satisfied, tutting that too much at once would make his sicker than he already was.

“How are you feeling?” Gaius asked, taking Gwen’s place and perching on the edge of his bed.

“Awful. Still tired. But better than…how long have I been out?” Merlin asked.

“Almost two days,” said Gaius.

“What?” Merlin squeaked. “Was the infection really that bad?”

“Gwen, would you mind filling this pail with water for me?” Gaius asked, handing Gwen a bucket.

“Not at all,” she replied. Her eyes flicked between the two of them and Merlin realized that Gaius didn’t need water. He needed to talk to him about something she couldn’t overhear.

Once Gwen had left the room, Gaius turned his attention back to Merlin.

“We need to figure out how to fix this,” Gaius said.

“I feel better. I mean, I still feel tired, but I’m not quite so hungry anymore. And my wounds are only kind of sore. They’re not throbbing like they were.”

“That’s good, but we still need to break the connection between you and Arthur.”

“What connection?” Merlin asked.

“You said you drank his blood from the Cup of Life, correct?” Merlin nodded. “I did some research. Normally, to use the Cup to grant immortality, you leave the blood within the Cup. You don’t drink it. This allows the giver of the blood to have immortality because all of the giver’s hurts are transferred to the Cup. But since the Cup is lifeless, the giver essentially becomes lifeless too. They become a sort of...undead creature who must obey the bearer of the Cup. It’s the balance of things.”

Merlin’s stomach dropped. The reality of what he had been doing and the possible consequences washed over him.

He bit his lip and prayed he hadn’t inadvertently made Arthur his slave. If he had...

“What did the spell do when I drank it?”

“I’m assuming that, since the Cup was used in the spell, the effects were similar, but since you drank the blood and your body is full of life, Arthur did not become lifeless. But the balance has to be maintained. When using the Cup properly, the hurts are given to the Cup. However, in this case, you became the vessel, the bearer of Arthur’s pains and weaknesses.”

“I don’t understand,” said Merlin.

“Arthur’s weaknesses still had to exist. The weaknesses follow the blood. You drank the blood. You accepted his weaknesses. All of Arthur’s injuries and hunger and exhaustion have been given to you.”

Gaius sat back. Merlin looked down and processed what had happened. He took a shuddering breath and asked, “Can we undo this?”

Gaius shrugged. “I’m sure, but I have no idea how. And as it stands, Arthur can force himself to eat and he can avoid training and physical exertion, but only for a limited time before people become suspicious. And he can’t make himself sleep. His body no longer needs the rest.”

Merlin nodded. “That explains why I’m so tired.”

“Yes. You’ve effectively gone six days without any sleep.”

Merlin raised his head and gaped. “Six days? But...how is that possible? Is that possible?”

“I don’t know. Most people wouldn’t be able to function. The only explanation I have is that at this point, your magic is sustaining you.”

“How long will it last, do you think?”

“I have no idea, but not indefinitely. We have to put things to right, Merlin. We have to figure out how to reverse the spell.”

Merlin nodded and began to rise but had to lie back down when a wave of dizziness crashed over him. He groaned as his head began to pound.

“I fear you are not going to be feeling your best for quite some time, but for now, you must push through,” Gaius said. He gripped Merlin’s shoulders and helped him rise. Merlin leaned heavily against the wall and waited for his vision to come into focus.

“Gaius, I feel awful,” he finally said.

Gaius picked up his cup of water and pressed it into his hands. “You were severely dehydrated when you collapsed, so try drinking a bit more water, but sip slowly. I’ll be right back. I must send for Arthur.”

“What? No!”

“Merlin, he knows.”

Merlin’s heart stuttered a bet in his chest. “What?” he whispered. He ran through every encounter between him and Arthur, trying to figure out where he’d given himself away.

“He already knows you’re sick. He was the one who brought you here, don’t you remember?”

“Of course, I just thought you meant…” Merlin raised a hand and waved his fingers. “Magic,” he said.

“Oh. No, but he does know there was magic in play. I fear that now, he’s even more against sorcery than he was before.”

“What? How?”

“He thinks a sorcerer did this to you to hurt you. Or to hurt him by hurting you. Either way, he doesn’t realize this was a protection spell gone awry.”

Merlin let his head hit the wall. How had everything gotten so out of control? His stupidity truly had been at its peak when he chose to use the Cup.

Gaius walked to the door and Merlin heard him tell a servant to inform the prince that Merlin was awake. When Gaius returned to his side, he said, “This might be the best time to tell him the truth, Merlin.”

“No.” Merlin shook his head. “No. I did magic. He won’t like it. He’ll...he’ll have me executed. Or arrested. Or something. No, he can’t know.”

Gaisu sighed. “Merlin, he does actually care about you. He was frantic when he brought you in. I think if you explain the situation to him, he’ll understand.”

“He might not.”

“Someday he’ll find out.” He clapped a hand onto Merlin’s shoulder. “You were trying to keep him safe. Explain it to him. He’ll understand.”

“Maybe,” Merlin muttered.

He didn’t have the chance to say anymore because at that moment, Arthur entered the room.

“You’re awake,” he said, and smiled tentatively.

Merlin nodded and Gaius moved to the side so Arthur could take his place. He sat down beside Merlin and putt his hand on Merlin’s brow.

“Your fever has gone. That’s good,” Arthur said.

“Yes, sire,” Merlin mumbled.

Arthur frowned, the shifted so he was facing Merlin more fully. “I’m sure Gaius has told you what happened by now.”

“It was a spell?” Merlin asked.

“Yes,” said Arthur, slowly. “But Merlin, I’m so very sorry.”

Merlin blinked. He’d never heard Arthur apologize to anyone, let alone a servant. “What for?”

Arthur swallowed, and Merlin watched his throat muscles clench and relax. “I suspected sorcery, yet I did nothing to end it. Now you’re the one paying the price,” Arthur said. “I just want to you to know that I am doing everything in my power to right this.”

Merlin smiled and laid his hand atop Arthur’s, grasping tightly. “I don’t blame you for anything, Arthur.”

“But, you should. I allowed myself to be…seduced by magic. I thought it was sorcery from the beginning and I did nothing.” Arthur yanked his hand back and fisted it in his lap so tightly Merlin wondered if he broke skin. He swallowed hard and looked at Gaius, who nodded encouragingly, then turned and climbed the stairs to his room, giving Merlin as much privacy as he could afford. Merlin immediately wanted him back, some sort of reassuring presence to remind him he was doing the right thing.

He cleared his throat. If there was ever a time to tell Arthur, this was it.

But when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out but a raspy croak. His chest tightened and the words didn’t make it past his throat. The noise startled Arthur, who must have assumed Merlin was afraid because Arthur reached out and cupped both hands around Merlin’s face, bringing them close together, foreheads knocking against each other and the tips of their noses barely touching. Merlin could smell Arthur’s breath, and his heart fluttered wildly in his chest.

“I will fix this,” Arthur said. “I will. Please don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not,” Merlin said.

Arthur smiled and his thumbs began to stroke along Merlin’s cheekbones, making Merlin shiver. Without meaning to, Merlin pressed forward into Arthur’s touch.

“You’re braver than anyone ever gives you credit for,” Arthur murmured softly.

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed, and he was so tired that his head fell to Arthur’s shoulder and he breathed against the skin of Arthur’s neck. Arthur stiffened, then relaxed, and his hands drifted down and around until they were sharing an embrace.

Merlin knew, somehow, that this was it. He had to tell Arthur about his magic. He had to tell him that the spell had just gone awry and he wasn’t evil, he just didn’t know what he was doing. He told himself Arthur would understand, and if what Gaius said was true, it wasn’t like he was going to live for that much longer anyways,so did it really matter? Uther could execute him, but it would just be speeding up the inevitable, and Merlin would die either way. And besides, Gaius was there. Gaius was a frail old man, but if Arthur was so angry he decided to use his sword, maybe Gaius could talk sense into him.

Merlin swallowed nervously. His throat still ached and his head still swam, but despite it all, the thought of Arthur hating him hurt more than anything else. He opened his mouth to tell Arthur, but thought of being abandoned, burned, discarded, and he began to shake. Tremors wrecked his body until he could hear his teeth chattering in his head.

“Shh, Merlin. I’ve got you,” Arthur said. He pulled him tighter, but the shaking didn’t stop. His eyes burned and he bit his lip to stop himself from crying. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t cry in front of Arthur. He’d already cried, anyway. Arthur was right. Sometimes he did act just like a girl

Merlin gripped Arthur’s shoulders, allowing himself to feel the muscles flexing underneath the thin tunic, and he mourned a future that might no longer come to pass. He feared Arthur’s hate, he feared Arthur would perceive his magic as a betrayal and follow the same path as Morgana. He’d failed her, and he didn’t think he could live through failing Arthur as well.

Merlin was barely aware of Arthur murmuring nonsense words to him, his lips moving against Merlin’s hair. One of Arthur’s hands had come to rest on the back of Merlin’s neck, and fingers threaded through the softer strands found there.

Eventually, Merlin’s shudders subsided and pulled away. He took a deep and breath and blurted out, “It was me.”

Arthur was silent for a moment before asking, slowly, “What was?”

Merlin waved his arms around. “Everything. The spell. The magic. I did it.”

Arthur’s hands released him and he stiffened, leaning back, distancing himself as much as he could without actually leaving the bed. His eyes were narrowed and his expression pinched.

“That’s not funny, Merlin. Don’t joke about things like this.”

“I’m not,” he said miserably. “I’m the sorcerer.”

Merlin took a deep breath and raised a hand, summoning a ball of blue light into it. He had always found the light comforting. Now, in front of Arthur, the light felt like the flames of the executioner’s pyre.

Their combined harsh breathing was the only sound in the room as Arthur stared fixedly on the light. He stared for what seemed like ages but could have only been a minute, then shook his head and walked towards the door, his intentions clear. With his hand on the doorknob, though, he hesitated. He looked over his shoulder at Merlin.

“You’re a traitor, then.”

“No! No, I’m not. I never tried to hurt you, I just–”

Arthur turned to face him, and as he moved towards the bed, Merlin wondered if this was how the animals Arthur hunted felt when they noticed the gaze of a predator fixated on them. The expression on Arthur’s face terrified him. He’d only ever seen it once before, when Morgause had nearly tricked him into slaying his own father. Merlin’s breath quickened and he started to feel light-headed. He wondered what would happen if he fainted. Would Arthur run him through or have him dragged down to the dungeons? Or would he leave Merlin, wait until he woke up and then punish him when he was awake and aware.

“You used magic on me.”

“Yes,” Merlin said. He swallowed. “It was to protect you.”

Arthur tilted his head. “It was without my consent.”

“Arthur,” Merlin begged, “please. I– I don’t know. I didn’t mean for this. I’m sorry!”

“In accordance with our laws, you should burn.” Arthur’s voice was flat, emotionless.

Merlin felt hysterical. He felt sobs threatening to tear from his throat and tears sprung to his eyes. His hands clenched the sheets gathered at his waist.

Arthur regarded him coldly. His hand rested on his hip, where he normally wore his sword. Merlin didn’t miss the gesture, the implication.

“I don’t...Please, Arthur, please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean for this–” and Merlin wanted to continue and plead and beg for Arthur to not hate him and not burn him but he couldn’t breathe. He could feel his heart beating frantically in his chest, hear his pulse racing in his ears. His hands were shaking violently now and he couldn’t really believe this was happening. He had always feared this moment but he had always hoped Arthur would understand. But Arthur wasn’t understanding. He wasn’t understanding at all.

“You have lied to me. You have betrayed me.”

“No!”

“You have broken the first law of Camelot.”

“I couldn’t help it!”

“I had thought you– Dammit, Merlin. I thought you were my friend.”

“I am!”

“How much do I really know about you?”

“Everything! You know everything! All I lied about was my magic but everything else is true. I promise,” Merlin said.

“Everything? Can you swear on your life that you have never lied about anything except for the fact that you have magic?” Arthur’s voice was dangerously low. “Can you swear you have never purposely harmed anyone with your magic? Can you swear on my life that you are innocent in all the wrongs done in and towards Camelot, that you have done nothing to harm Camelot in any way since your arrival, and that you have done nothing to harm any of its people? Can you swear you have never put my life or the lives of Camelot’s citizen in danger as a result of your magic?”

Merlin hesitated. He wanted to say yes, but he thought of Morgana and hemlock and the dragon and fire and death and Morgause and her plans and people dying all around him and Mordred and how everything had gone so wrong and it was all because of him. He hung his head and stared at his now motionless hands, blinking back tears of shame.

“No,” he finally whispered. “I cannot swear it.”

Arthur hissed. “Then I stand by my original statement. You are a traitor.”

“I never meant...I never wanted to hurt anyone,” Merlin said.

“And yet you have because my father is right, Merlin. Those who dabble in sorcery are wicked and know only evil. You have deceived and betrayed me, but you have deceived and betrayed yourself more. Your days as my manservant are over and at dawn, you will accept your punishment. Do you understand?

Merlin nodded. He didn’t look up as Arthur turned and left without a word, nor when Gaius came back in and perched on Merlin’s bed.

“Merlin,” he said softly. “I’ve known Arthur for a long time. He’ll be more rational when he calms down.”

Merlin lay back down on the bed and turned away, his back towards Gaius.

“I told you,” he whispered. “I told you.”

Gaius remained for a long time. When it was clear Merlin wasn’t going to turn around, he sighed and stood. He must have moved towards the work table because the next thing Merlin heard was the clink of glass bottles as Gaius prepared potions.

Merlin laid down on the bed and wondered what it would be like to die.

* * *Arthur stormed back to his room. Servants moved out his way. Guards looked at him curiously. He even passed Morgana. She stared at him, but said nothing. No on said anything and he was thankful. He didn’t know what he would do if someone got in his way.

When he finally got back to his rooms, he slammed the door behind him and marched to his bed, slumping in on himself and cradling his head in his hands, his elbows braced against his knees. His mind was whirring. He replayed every moment he’d ever spent with Merlin and tried to see the magic. He tried to see all the times Merlin had lied to him and betrayed him. He tried to see Merlin as something other than a friend and a potential lover, but the thought of Merlin as an enemy just didn’t fit into what Arthur knew of the world. Merlin was just too…Merlin.

But now that he thought about it, in the past three years, he’d been save by an extraordinarily large number of tree branches falling on his enemies heads. His opponents had certainly gotten clumsier as well, usually dropping their swords right before they manged to hurt him. And he couldn’t think of a single time he’d be saved by an “accident” without Merlin there, watching the battle – or was it watching Arthur – from behind a tree or his position, crouched on the ground.

Then he remembered Merlin hadn’t been able to swear to his innocence.

And that confused him. Anyone trying to manipulate him would have sworn they had never hurt anyone. They wouldn’t have wanted to lose his trust.

Merlin hadn’t done that. Merlin had admitted he’d done something wrong. Merlin had felt guilty.

But Merlin was a sorcerer who had used magic on him.

Merlin had used magic to protect him, and the spell had hurt no one but the sorcerer who had cast it, because Merlin was inept and couldn’t even commit treason properly.

Arthur hadn’t consented to the spell.

The spell was to protect him.

Arthur growled and strode to his table, picking up a goblet and throwing it against the wall. It ricocheted off, then skittered across the floor. The clanging of metal on stone and the dent in the side of the goblet made him feel good. It made him feel like he was powerful, like he had some sort of control.

And the worst thing of all, the very worst thing, was Arthur had recognized that ball of light. That beautiful, calming, warming ball of magical energy. It had once saved his life, and he’d never told anyone about it.

Had that been Merlin?

Arthur leaned against the table. His thoughts whirled and as revelation upon revelation hit him, his legs trembled and he sank into a chair.

How long had Merlin been saving him with magic?

Why would Merlin save the prince of a kingdom where magic was a capital offense? Why would he risk death repeatedly to protect Arthur?

But try as he might, he couldn’t get Merlin’s whispered no out of his head.

He needed to know what Merlin had done.

A knock on the door startled him. Morgana standing on the other side, holding a wineskin, shouldn’t have surprised him, though. She’d seen him marching down the halls and she was never one to let him alone with his anger.

“Arthur? You look terrible. Were you crying?”

“What? No!” he said. He scrubbed at his face realized his cheeks were wet. He was horrified. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, and now he had done so over a sorcerer.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I think...I just, hell.” He sighed and plopped back down in his chair. Morgana followed suit, pouring wine into two goblets. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore, Morgana.”

“Tell me about it,” she said, pushing his goblet towards him.

He gave the goblet back. “I can’t. It won’t do anything for me anyways.”

She slid the goblet back across the table, but didn’t say anything when he pushed it to the side without drinking. She raised her own to her lips and after swallowing, she spoke again. “Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t. Just, I think I hurt Merlin. And I fired him. But, I think I hurt him more before that. And I threatened him. Oh gods, I threatened to execute him. And I think I meant it.” Arthur dropped his head onto his folded arms. Merlin was still deathly ill, but Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if he left Camelot that very night. He shuddered and resisted the urge to march back down to Gaius’s chambers and make sure Merlin didn’t leave. Camelot without Merlin – Arthur without Merlin – didn’t seem possible anymore. “What if he runs away?”

But no. He may owe Merlin his life several times over, but Arthur couldn’t trust him until he knew what Merlin had done. And if he decided to flee... Arthur would find him and get his answers anyway.

Morgana took another sip of her wine and studied him. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

“Merlin knows you. He knows your temper. He also knows your honor. You may have frightened him, but he’s nothing if not persistent. He would never leave you.” She slid his goblet back in front of him. “Drink. If not for you, than for Merlin. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind relaxing for a bit.”

Arthur snorted, but raised the goblet to his lips and took a large swallow. The wine tasted good, like wine always did, but Arthur sorely missed the light-headed feeling that normally accompanied a strong drink.

He never thought he’d actually miss his weaknesses.

Morgana smiled at him as he took another sip of her own wine.

“You said Merlin’s…bonded to you somehow. He’s taken all your weaknesses? If that’s true, then he can’t very well up and leave, even if he wanted to.”

Arthur nodded, finishing off his wine in two large swallows. When Morgana stood to leave, he reached out and grasped her arm.

“Thanks, Morgana. For everything.”

She smiled at him. “It’s alright, Arthur. Everything’s alright now.” She patted his cheek gently, then turned and left his room.

It wasn’t until much later, when Arthur was blowing out the candles and preparing to once again try and sleep, that he noticed the goblet Morgana had been drinking from. It was still full.

* * *As usual, Arthur didn’t sleep that night. He lay in bed, staring up into the darkness. He couldn’t get Merlin out of his head.

Would he even be alive if it wasn’t for Merlin? The more he thought about it, the more he doubted he would be. And now Merlin was dying because he had messed with magic he didn’t know how to handle in some misguided attempt to help Arthur.

He thought of other things, too. Merlin’s quirky, lopsided smile when Arthur offered him a bit of praise, the way he seemed to care for everyone, regardless of status. How he had cried when Balinor, Camelot’s last hope against the Great Dragon, had died and how, with only a sword and no armour, he had rode out with Arthur to defend Camelot.

He’d had all night to organize his thoughts, and Merlin as a threat to Camelot didn’t make sense. Merlin was a sorcerer, but Merlin was good. It went against everything he had been raised to believe, but it was the only logical conclusion.

Arthur decided he and Merlin needed to talk. He dressed and splashed some cold water from the washbasin onto his face and raked a hand carelessly through his hair. Bathing just didn’t seem horribly important at the moment. He had a manservant to talk to.

The trip to Gaius’s chamber was quick. No one stopped him, for which he was thankful. He passed Morgana and Gwen in the hall. Morgana looked cheerful, and Arthur wondered if she’d gotten a better night’s sleep than normal.

When he arrived, he was surprised to see neither Gaius nor Merlin in the main work room. Maybe Merlin had fled after all. He was considering heading to the stables when a sound from Merlin’s room caught his attention. When he opened the door slightly and peeked in, he saw Merlin curled over a bucket, retching, while Gaius held him up.

Merlin looked thin and pale and extraordinarily unwell. Arthur winced at the harsh sounds Merlin was making. His retchings were harsh, too harsh, and though it nauseated Arthur to look at the contents of the bucket, he did so anyways. There was definitely blood mixed in with the rest of the sick.

“Gaius,” Arthur said quietly, moving into the room.

Merlin must have seen the movement from the corner of his eyes because he glanced up, and Arthur winced. Merlin’s lips were slick and his breath was ragged. There were dark bruises under his eyes and Arthur realized this was the seventh day Merlin was suffering Arthur’s exhaustion. Illness was inevitable.

Still, though, not even sleep deprivation should make a person this sick.

Merlin glanced away, then, tilting his head towards the bucket and began retching bile spotted with blood once more.

“What’s wrong with him?” Arthur asked softly.

“I’m not sure, sire. He was fine last night, after you left. Upset, but fine,” Gaius said, giving him a look. Arthur swallowed heavily. “He fell asleep but woke up a few hours before dawn, in pain. The vomiting started an hour ago.”

“And you have no idea what could be causing this?”

Gaius frowned, and Arthur realized that he did, in fact, know. Or at least he suspected.

“Gaius. What is it?”

“It’s nothing to trouble yourself with.” He turned his attention back to Merlin, who had stopped retching for the moment and was panting heavily, his head cradled in the nook of his arm.

“Tell me, Gaius. Please.”

Gaius sighed. “I believe it’s poison, sire.”

Arthur stood, frozen, and he felt something deep in gut roil at those two words. “What?”

Merlin finally raised his head and Arthur studied him more closely. Merlin looked much worse than he had the previous night, and Arthur was suddenly very afraid.

“It was poison,” Merlin rasped. “We think…we know someone poisoned you, because I haven’t eaten anything.”

Arthur shook his head. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t possible.

Merlin snorted. “Ironic, no? Looks like you won’t have to execute me after all.”

“Don’t say that,”

Merlin looked away.

“Is he right?” Arthur asked Gaius, hoping Gaius would disagree. But Gaius nodded.

“Yes, sire. He’s correct. I believe it to be poison.”

“But you have an antidote, right?”

“No poison, no antidote,” he said.

Arthur looked at them, confused. “What?”

“If he we don’t know what kind of poison was used, then we can’t make an antidote. Antidotes are made from the actual poison itself,” Gaius explained.

“And the only way to figure out the poison…”

“Is to figure out who poisoned you.” He rocked back on his heels and locked his fingers together in front of him.

“But I didn’t eat anything when I left yesterday,” Arthur said. As far as he knew, symptoms of poison showed within a few seconds to a few hours from ingesting the poison, though usually earlier rather than later. If Merlin had started showing signs a few hours before dawn, the poison would have had to have been in something he consumed after he left Gaius’s chambers the night before.

“You didn’t eat or drink anything?” Gaius frowned.

He shook his head. “No, all I had was the wine... ” he trailed off. Arthur knew, then, with certainty, what had happened. He braced an arm against the door, needing something solid, something to hold on to. “Morgana,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Gaius asked.

“It was Morgana,” he said. “She brought me wine last night.”

His thoughts stuttered to a halt then as he came to a startling conclusion. Morgana hadn’t tried to kill him, because she knew everything. She knew whatever he ate – or drank – wouldn’t affect him. And she had looked so pleased when he had drank from his goblet. And hers had still been full when she had left. And her cheerful demeanor this morning…

No, Morgana hadn’t tried to poison him. He had never been her target.

She had poisoned Merlin, and she had done so deliberately.

Gaius’s mouth tightened, and Arthur’s mind reeled. He had expected Gaius to defend Morgana. Gaius had played a part in both of their upbringing and while the man might think of Merlin as his son, he knew Gaius considered he and Morgana to be the equivalent of a nephew and niece. But Gaius wasn’t defending her. He didn’t even look surprised.

“You knew,” Arthur said. It wasn’t a question.

“I’ve…suspected that the Lady Morgana had less than honorable intentions towards you and your father for awhile now,” Gaius said.

“No.” Arthur shook his head. This wasn’t happening. Merlin, a sorcerer? Morgana trying to kill him? “No,” he said again. “She didn’t try to kill me.”

“Arthur, I know you think of her as a sister–”

“No. You don’t understand. She didn’t try to kill me. I told her,” Arthur tried to explain.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I follow you. What did you tell her?”

Arthur hesitated. He hadn’t meant to tell Morgana, but she had been there, kind and comforting, like always. He was used to her advice. He had craved it in that moment.

“I told her about the connection between Merlin and I,” Arthur said slowly. “I told her that I couldn’t be hurt by anything because Merlin was hurting for me.”

Gaius opened his mouth to say something, maybe a reprimand, an order, a scolding, but Merlin groaned and curled up on the bed, his arms wrapping around his midsection

“Merlin!” both Gaius and Arthur shouted, rushing forward.

Merlin’s eyes squeezed shut, and Arthur could see tears pooling in the corners. “It hurts,” he said.

Arthur gripped the sides of his head and traced his thumbs over sharp cheekbones. “Oh, Merlin,” he said.

Gaius placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go to Morgana. Figure out what poison she used. Merlin doesn’t have much longer.”

Arthur stared at him, not understanding. Morgana would deny it. And if he threatened her, people would think he’d gone crazy. What reason would the king’s ward have for assassinating a servant?

Gaius must have sensed his hesitation. “Arthur,” he said, then paused for a moment as if he didn’t know whether or not he should continue. He opened his mouth and began again. “Arthur, Morgana is a sorceress.”

Arthur meant to say You’re joking but all he did was gape soundlessly instead.

“I’ll explain everything later, but you must know this. She’s been working with Morgause to kill you and your father and take over Camelot. Merlin and I have both known about her, and Merlin has saved both you and the king several times. She is a magic-user, Arthur, but she does not use her magic for good. Not like Merlin does.”

And with that said, Gaius turned his attention back to Merlin, a silent dismissal that should have irked him, but given the circumstance, he simply nodded at Gaius’s back and left.

He knew he had to find Morgana. He had to confront her, figure out what poison she had used, and he had to do this quickly. It would take time to make the antidote. But how could he ensure Morgana would give him the poison. He had nothing to hold against her but words, and she could easily deny those.

Arthur glanced out a window to check the time. The sun was high in the sky, meaning Morgana had most likely already gone to market. He turned in the direction of her rooms. If he was going to gain leverage on her, he would have to find evidence.

He didn’t knock when he came to Morgana’s rooms. He pushed the doors opened and strolled in, ignoring the banging as the doors hit the wall. Gwen was there, in the middle of clearing the breakfast dishes, and she jumped at the noise.

“Arthur?” She bent down to pick up a goblet she had dropped.

“Gwen. Please leave,” he said. In the back of his mind, he could hear Merlin’s condescending voice, telling him not be a prat.

She frowned and fidgeted. “Is everything alright?”

Arthur considered her. He liked her. He had tried to convince himself he loved her. He knew he couldn’t have Merlin. To marry a servant would already cause an uproar, but to take to have relations with a male servant – and a sorcerer too, he reminded himself – it just couldn’t be done. He had begun courting Gwen because she reminded him of Merlin. She was strong and stood up for what she believed in. She saw him as Arthur, not as the Prince of Camelot. But right then, in the midst of all the turmoil, he couldn’t find it in himself to care about her. She became just one more thing in his way, one more person that was keeping him from saving Merlin.

But she was also Morgana’s maidservant. Surely she had seen something that could incriminate Morgana.

“Gwen,” he started, “I believe…I believe Morgana may be consorting with something dangerous, something…”

Gwen’s eyes widened. Arthur was beginning to dislike this expression, the one that expressed recognition and guilt tinged with secrecy. Gwen knew something, had known, and she hadn’t bothered to tell him.

“So it’s true?” she asked softly. “She has been using magic?”

Arthur pressed his lips tightly together. “I believe so. Have you seen anything? I believe she has harmed someone and in such a way that only she can fix it. But I need…I need something that I can hold against her. Something to make her do as I command.”

“Like…leverage?”

Arthur nodded. “Please,” he begged, and he was not used to begging but he would do so for Merlin, “please, if you know of anything, tell me.”

Gwen hesitated, and Arthur understood. A person who knew of a sorcerer but did not report them to the king was just as guilty as the sorcerer in question in the eyes of the law.

“Gwen, I promise you, you will come to no harm. But someone else might if you don’t help me,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” Gwen said, and she paused again. Arthur wondered if she was remembering her father and how he died because he had unknowingly aided a sorcerer. Did she fear she would meet the same fate?

“On my honor, Gwen, my father will not touch you. He will have to go through me first. Listen, someone…” He took a deep breath. The lying was taking them in circles and none of this would have happened if people had just been honest. Maybe he needed to be the one to start. “Morgana has poisoned Merlin. I need her to tell me what type of poison she used so Gaius can make an antidote.”

Gwen paled, remaining silent, and Arthur wondered when he’d fallen out of her favour. After a long moment, he nodded. “I thought I saw her doing magic, and she had a box that she put away in the cupboard. She has the only key to it. I’m not allowed in.”

Arthur strode to the cupboard, running his fingers over the wood. A quick tug confirmed it was locked. He frowned, then braced the cupboard with one hand and used his other to pull as hard as he could. He hadn’t been training to kill since birth for naught. He heard the wood groan, and then there was the snapping sound of wood splintering, and suddenly, the door was open, ripped off its hinges. Both Arthur and Gwen gaped at the contents inside.

The box Gwen had spoken of was easy to spot. It was siting on a shelf, eye level with Arthur, and had a rune engraved on the lid. Surrounding the box were various jars of powders and liquids that Arthur had never seen in any apothecary’s shop, but he was quite familiar with them from times he had been in the homes of sorcerers, arresting them on orders of his father.

On the other shelves were various amulets and jewels, other items Arthur had seen in the homes of magic users.

There was no way he could doubt Gaius any longer, not with the evidence right in front of his eyes. Everything in that cupboard was magical.

Morgana was a sorceress.

Morgana had poisoned Merlin.

Morgana had poisoned him to poison Merlin.

He turned to Gwen. “Leave.”

She looked startled at his sudden order. “What?”

“Leave this room. Get somewhere safe. If Morgana finds out you showed me any of this, I don’t know if I can protect you from her magic.”

“Oh.” Gwen hesitated, opening her mouth but closing it again before any words were spoken. Finally she nodded. “Be careful,” she said, then turned and left the room.

Arthur pulled the box out and set it on the table in the middle of the room, making sure it was in plain sight, then pulled out some jars of powder and a few jewels, placing them next to the box. Then he sat down to wait.

Despite all the years since Uther had taken Morgana in as his ward, he had never really bothered to ask her what she did in the day. He knew she shopped for fine clothing at the market at the height of the day, but nothing beyond that. She didn’t have responsibilities like he did, being the prince of Camelot. She was provided for, and her only real duty was to appear at public functions.

He leaned back. Undoubtedly, she would return shortly.

An hour later, and he was preparing to head out to find her. Merlin was dying and if she wasn’t going to come to him, he was going to her. He was just preparing to start putting the items into a satchel when the door to Morgana’s room opened.

Her eyes widened when she first saw him, then she grinned and strode forward, towards him. “Arthur, don’t you know it’s not polite to be in a lady’s room when she’s not–”

Her words were cut short when she realized what was spread out on the table before him.

“Morgana,” he said. “You‘re a sorceress.”

She laughed, nervously. “Arthur, no, you misunderstand–”

“You’re the traitor,” he said.

She swallowed heavily, audibly, a nervous sound he could hear from the other side of the room. “No–”

“You practice magic.”

“You don’t understand. I can explain–”

“You practiced magic here, in Camelot, where any sort of association with magic is a capital offense.” His pushed the box forward on the table. “I know what runes look like. I know what spell ingredients look like. I’ve been trained since birth to recognize them.”

His breath was coming in fast, shallow gasps and he felt warm. He was mad. He was beyond mad. He had trusted Morgana, just like he had trusted Merlin, and she had made a conscious decision to be the traitor. She had poisoned Merlin. She had tried to kill Merlin.

Arthur still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Arthur,” and she was looking up at him from under her lashes, like she used to do, but it was ugly, Arthur thought. It was like a parody of their innocent childhood banter and in that moment, he hated her something fierce.

“You poisoned me.”

Her pale skin paled even further. “You have to know the whole story–”

He sneered. “What? Tell me, Morgana. What don’t I know?”

“Merlin...He…I knew it wouldn’t hurt you,” she said.

“You knew it was a spell. You knew because I told you.”

Arthur slammed his fist down on the table, making a jar of powder tip over and shattered when it hit the ground.

“What did you think would happen,” he said around gritted teeth, “when Merlin died? The poison would still be in my system.”

“I...I didn’t think about that,” she said, and gods if she wasn’t a good actress. But now that he knew what he was looking for, now that he was searching her face for clues of her betrayal, he could see the calculated gleam as she tried to play him.

“You did. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

“You think you know everything? You know nothing,” she said. She took a step forward.

“I know enough.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Morgana broke the silence. “He poisoned me over a year ago. Did he tell you that?”

Arthur felt cold inside. Had he misjudged everything? Were Merlin and Gaius conspiring against him, too?

Was there anyone who hadn’t betrayed him?

“What reason would he have to poison you?” he asked Morgana, his voice gravelly.

She smiled a bit and shrugged, and the back of his neck prickled.

“When the Knights of Medhir were here. Merlin poisoned me. It’s why I left. He betrayed me first.” She smiled gently at him, but Arthur barely noticed. His mind was reeling.

“You left because he poisoned you?” he asked.

“Yes, Arthur. It was his fault.” She took another small step forward, and he took a step to the side, not letting her corner him.

“You left after you were poisoned?”

“Hm,” she acknowledged.

“Why did you leave?”

She paused. “I told you. He poisoned me. I didn’t feel safe.”

“That’s a lie,” he hissed. Everything was clicking into place. He remembered how tired he’d felt that day, and he remembered having to slap Merlin to keep him awake. But Morgana had been fine. Whatever had affected Camelot hadn’t touched her. “Did you cause it?”

“What? He tried to poison me and you’re defending him?” Her nostrils flared and her lips curled. Arthur wanted to laugh. She looked nothing like the Morgana he had grown up with. It was too easy to disassociate her past from her current self. She had changed. He only mourned his ignorance to her deceit.

“Why can’t you answer my question?”

“So this is how it’s going to be, then? I try to save your life and you betray me to your traitorous manservant. I thought Uther was bad, but Arthur. You’re worse. At least Uther knows where his loyalties lie.” She turned to leave the room, but he jumped forward and grabbed her wrist, holding tightly when she struggled to get away from him. “Let me go,” she hissed, digging the nails of her free hand into her soft flesh of his wrist. He grit his teeth but didn’t relinquish his hold.

“I will. When you give me the antidote.”

“No. I’ll watch you both die from the poison. It’ll be nice.”

If Arthur had had any doubts earlier about whether he trusted her or Merlin, they disappeared in that instant.

“Yes, you will. Tell me, Morgana, if I took you to the throne room now and told my father what I knew about you and your poisonous ways, what do you think will happen?”

Morgana was silent and she stared at him. Her eyes were wide, and Arthur dearly hoped she was afraid.

“I’ll tell him about Merlin,” she threatened.

“I’ll vouch for him, but I’ll make sure you burn.” He was sure, even knowing what he did about Morgana, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his threat, but she had to believe he was willing to go through with it. He had to play his part.

Her chest rose and fell as her breath quickened, and her eyes darted back and forth. She turned to make a run for it, and he quickly drew his sword, putting himself between her and the door and resting the tip of her blade at the center of his neck.

“Give me the antidote.”

“I don’t have one.”

He didn’t blink. “I don’t believe you. Give me the antidote.”

She sneered. “Why would I have one? I don’t care if Merlin lives or dies, so why would I keep an antidote?”

“Then give me the poison.”

She narrowed her eyes, then nodded. He took a step back, but didn’t lower his sword, and waited as she went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of green liquid that was still three quarters full. She glared at him as she handed it over.

Without thinking about it, without considering the consequences of his actions, he threw the sword down on the floor, uncaring about his blade’s safety, and in one swift motion, pinned Morgana, her back bent painfully over the backing of a chair. Before she had time to scream for help, he had unstoppered the bottle and forced half the contents in her mouth, covering her lips with his hand and pinching her nose closed until she swallowed the contents..

When he stepped away, she doubled over, coughing hoarsely and gagging. “What did you do?” she rasped.

“Where is the antidote?” he asked. “You’ve been poisoned now. If you give me the antidote, I’ll let you drink as soon as Merlin is safe. If you don’t, I’ll report you to my father.” He grasped her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “If you don’t help me, you’re going to die. Do you understand?”

She stared up at him, eyes wide, and it hurt him more than it should to see that look in her eyes directed at him. Then she straightened, and something in her eyes changed, hardened, and he realized that this Morgana was not the Morgana he had grown up with. She wasn’t the one he had flirted with for so many years, who he had once thought would be his wife, who he had bested and been bested by on the training ground. She wasn’t the girl who had convinced him to sneak out of council meetings to run into the forest and pick apples out of trees and braid flowers into each other’s sun-warmed hair

Her mouth twisted into a sneer and she pulled another bottle from the cupboard, this one containing a powder blue liquid. Arthur snatched it from her hands and held it safely out of her reach, in the hand that also held the bottle of poison, then grabbed her arm and pushed her forward. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

The march back down to Gaius’s was quick, and they received only a few odd looks but no interruptions. They passed Leon, who made a move to step forward, but Arthur gave a minute shake of his head and Leon understood, standing to the side and letting them pass.

Gaius was still hovering over Merlin when they entered the room, and he looked confused at the presence of Morgana. Before he could say anything, though, Arthur placed the two bottles on the table in front of him, next to the bed.

“The green one is the poison. The blue is the antidote,” he said.

Gaius picked up the two bottles and studied them. “How can you be certain?”

“Just, make sure the blue bottle is the antidote. I have a fairly good source,” and he jerked Morgana forward, making her sit on the bench, “that the green is, in fact, the poison.”

Arthur didn’t know how Gaius did any of his physician work. Merlin had tried to explain it to him once, but Arthur hadn’t paid attention, nor had he really cared. Merlin was the physician’s assistant. As long as Merlin was studying and learning, Arthur paid no mind.

Now, as he watched Gaius carefully pour just a few drops of the poison and a few drops of the antidote onto separate slips of smooth parchment and then add a few drops of some clear liquid onto both the poison and the antidote. He took the papers to another table, putting his back to Arthur. Jars clinked, and there was a hissing sound as Gaius worked steadily.

Arthur tore his gaze away from Gaius’s back and studied Merlin’s prone form. He was back in the bed located in the main room, the one reserved for patients, and if possible, Merlin was even paler than he had been when Arthur had left to find Morgana. His eyes looked like they were sinking into his head, and the darkness of his hair looked shockingly black in comparison to the pallor of his skin. Even his lips had lost their color.

Arthur stood up, walking towards where Merlin lay, unconscious. He reached one hand out, slowly thumbing Merlin’s cheekbones, feeling the hard ridge of bone underneath the thin layer of skin. He had expected Merlin to be cold, to feel clammy, like death, and was surprised to find that Merlin was really quite warm. Overheated, in fact. Merlin was burning up, and now that Arthur was closer, he could see the sweat dampening Merlin’s hair.

He looked up, meeting Morgana’s gaze head-on.

“You will regret this,” he told her. He felt more than heard Gaius still on the other side of the room.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

He didn’t reply, turning his attention back to Merlin. His lashes fluttered, and a small sound emitted from the back of his throat. Arthur placed a comforting hand on his chest and his other cupped the side of Merlin’s face.

“Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes finally opened. Arthur would never admit it, but he had always thought Merlin’s eyes were an extraordinary shade of blue. They were vibrant, like the sea, but somehow fiery as well. Merlin was attractive, there was no doubt, but his eyes stood out even more than those prominent cheekbones.

Now, though, they were a dull grey, and that frightened Arthur.

More than anything, he wished he could pull Merlin to his chest and keep him safe by pure strength of will.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his thumb stroking over Merlin’s lips, his chin, his earlobes, his cheekbones.

Merlin pressed his face into Arthur’s touch, and Arthur smiled down at him. Merlin’s mouth opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur pressed his finger against Merlin’s lips. “Shh. It’s fine. You’re going to be fine. We have an antidote. Gaius is getting it ready now.”

Merlin’s lips quirked up. He obeyed, for once, only nodding to acknowledge he understood.

“Good,” Arthur said. “Good.” He reached his free hand down and clasped one of Merlin’s hands, holding tight. He brought it to his lips and placed a firm kiss against Merlin’s skin. “I am going to give you so many chores after this. You’re not going to have time to get into any trouble.”

Merlin stilled, then grinned a brilliant grin. “Sounds perfect,” he said.

Gaius cleared his throat, a reminder that other people were in the room. Gaius’s eyebrow was lost amongst his hairline, but he was gazing at the them fondly, the corners of lips quirked up.

Morgana glared at them both. Arthur glared back.

“Sire, if you don’t mind, this is indeed the antidote,” Gaius said, handing Arthur the bottle filled with the blue liquid. “I believe half the bottle is more than enough to reverse the effects of the poison.”

“You’re sure?”

Gaius nodded. “I’m positive. I wouldn’t risk Merlin’s life, sire. You know that.”

Arthur accepted the bottle, sparing only a brief glance at Merlin, before he put it to his lips and tilted his head back, taking two large swallows. The liquid was tasteless, really. Had he not seen the unnatural color, he would have thought it was water.

Morgana reached her hand forward, but Arthur didn’t give her the bottle. “We’ll wait until Merlin starts to get better.”

She glared at him again, and now that he looked at her closely, she, too, looked paler than she had earlier. She had always been pale, but she was turning grey.

Gaius shifted next to them, and one glance at the physician’s face told Arthur that he would dearly love to know what had happened between the two of them, but Arthur kept his silence. He may hate Morgana now, but he wasn’t proud of what he had done.

He refocused his attention on Merlin, who already looked like he was getting some of his color back.

“How long should this take?” Arthur asked.

“Not long at all, Sire. I estimate he should be feeling much better already.”

Merlin nodded from where he lay. “I do,” he said. He moved to sit up, but Arthur pushed him back, keeping his hand on his chest to make sure he knew to remained lying down.

“Please just rest,” Arthur said. His fingertips lightly grazed Merlin’s collarbone. He felt Merlin shivers through the tips of his fingers.

Merlin lifted one arm, resting his hand over Arthur’s. “I can feel it,” he said. “The antidote is working. I’ll be fine.”

Arthur nodded, biting his lip and hesitating. Merlin looked up at him oddly, and he shook his head. He wanted to tell Merlin what he had done, how far he had gone to save him. He wanted to tell him that he was afraid of him, and it was all right that he practiced magic and he would protect him no matter what. Uther would never get to him, Arthur would see to it. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk around the lump in his throat. Instead, he held the rest of the antidote out to Morgana. She took it and quickly downed the contents.

He ignore Gaius’s gasp and instead looked at Merlin, searching for any sort of condemnation. Merlin’s gaze was locked on Morgana though.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, softly, one hand carding through Merlin’s hair, the sweat-damp strands sticking to his fingers and they gently traced their way over Merlin’s scalp, encouraging him to face Arthur. “What’s wrong?”

Merlin bit his lip, and his eyes flicked back to Morgana. Arthur didn’t need to be told. HE understood.

“I already know,” he said. “I know what you did. I don’t know why, but when you’re better, you’ll tell me. Won’t you?”

Merlin smiled and nodded. “Yeah.” He squeezed Arthur’s hand. “There’s so much I have to tell you, Arthur. I promise to tell you everything.”

When Arthur next looked up, Morgana was no longer in the room. He frowned, but didn’t rise.

“Did you see her leave?” he asked Gaius.

Gaius shook his head. “No, Sire. I’m afraid I was preoccupied with other things.”

They both stared at the door to Gaius’s chambers, which was still partially open. “If she’s still in Camelot by the time we’ve put Merlin back together, I’ll make sure my father knows of her betrayal,” Arthur said.

Gaius flicked his eyes between Merlin and Arthur. “Magic isn’t necessarily a betrayal,” he said. “Some people can’t help it. Some people are born with magic the same way you were born with light hair.”

“I wasn’t talking about her magic,” he said. “I was talking about her poisoning the Crown Prince of Camelot. I’ve seen that magic can be used for good, even when the user is too foolish to consider the consequences on his own person.”

“Hey!” Merlin muttered from where he lay. “I just…didn’t think about the balance.”

“Exactly. You didn’t think. And you almost got yourself killed. But that’s beside the point. You used your magic to try and save the Crown Prince, the son of the man who would see you dead without a second thought.” He paused, and watched Merlin swallow nervously. “I don’t know everything you did, but I...I trust you. I trust in your intentions, and I know you’re not evil.”

Merlin blinked. “Arthur,” he said, “I don’t know what to say. I mean–”

“Don’t say anything. Just, let Gaius and myself figure out a way to reverse this. And then don’t do it again.”

Merlin laughed and Gaius chuckled. Arthur reached down and grabbed Merlin’s hand, squeezing once, before he turned to Gaius. “All right then, how do we reverse this?”

Gaius led Arthur up the stairs to the second level, where the majority books were kept. Arthur had never looked through Gaius’s books. He rarely had time to read his normal few pages at night, and looking at the tomes before him, he found himself overwhelmed.

There were a lot of books.

Arthur turned around towards Merlin. “I don’t suppose you got this spell from a book,” he said.

Merlin nodded. “Yeah. It was one of Gaius’s.”

“That’s…not that helpful. Do you remember which one?”

Merlin worried his bottom lip, before shaking his head. “It didn’t have a title, I remember that. I think it was brown, and big. And heavy. I remember it being very heavy.”

Arthur turned back to study the books. “Great,” he muttered. “That really narrows things down, doesn’t it?”

“We should hurry, sire. Merlin may have received the antidote, but his body was weakened by the poison. We need to figure out what we need to do, and we need to do it fast,” Gaius said, softly, so Merlin couldn’t overhear them.

Arthur nodded and began pulling out the largest of the books that he could find. Gaius opened the first one and flipped through it. Arthur took another. Together, in silence, they worked.

Arthur was familiar with signs of magic and how to recognize magic. Uther had drilled that into him all his life. But he wasn’t familiar with what specific spells were supposed to do. He didn’t know how to look for a spell that would reverse the effects of the Cup of Life. He wasn’t sure if he should skim the instructions of each enchantment in order to cover more ground, or if he should slow down and thoroughly read everything to make sure he didn’t miss some vital piece of information.

He turned the page of the volume he was reading. It was so strange to be studying a book of magic, not throwing it into a fire and condemning the owner to the same fate. He wondered what Uther would think if he were to see him at that moment.

Arthur’s hands shook a bit when he turned the next page, and he had to take a deep breath to try and calm himself. Every instinct he had was screaming Traitor! at him. But every time he thought about giving up and saying this was wrong, he glanced over at Merlin’s form.

Merlin, his servant, who had almost given up everything to keep Arthur safe. Merlin, who had slipped into unconsciousness some time ago, and was completely dependent upon him. It was up to Arthur to save Merlin this time. And every time he looked over at Merlin, his resolve strengthened, and he found it easier to turn the pages with steady hands.

Hours later, and they still hadn’t found the spell. Arthur had discovered that magic was capable of a lot more than he had originally thought it was. It could control people’s thoughts, change a man into a woman and woman into a man, prevent birth, cause disease, and, as shown by one colorful illustration that still made Arthur slightly nauseous to recall, turn the limbs of a person into tentacles.

But there were spells to heal almost any sort of sickness, to easy a woman’s pain during birthing, to grow crops even when rain was scarce, to provide warmth in a room without the use of a fire.

There were also spells for completely menial tasks. He found one that instantly cleaned a floor of any dirt, one that smoothed the wrinkles out of clothing, one that polished a surface until it gleamed. Arthur snorted. He wasn’t surprised to see notes in the margin, made in Merlin’s messy scrawl, on how to make the spells more efficient. His lazy manservant probably used these all the time to avoid working.

And of course, there were a few in one inconspicuous book that had Arthur blushing furiously. He put it back onto the shelf almost immediately, but made sure to mark the location. Just in case.

Despite the wide array of spells he did find, there was nothing to be found on reversing the effects of drinking blood from the Cup of Life.

“This is stupid, Gaius. We’re not finding it, and he’s dying,” Arthur said, tossing the book he had just finished going through to the side.

Gaius didn’t look up from his book. “Hush, sire. We’ll find it. We don’t have a choice.”

“But will we find it in time?”

Gaius glanced down at Merlin. “He has time, now that the poison has worn off.”

Arthur raked his hands over his face. “He said he drank my blood from the Cup of Life, right?”

“That’s correct, and by taking in your blood, he also took in your weaknesses.”

Arthur stood up, walking over and leaning on the railing so he could study Merlin’s still form. “What if we did the same thing, but I drank his blood? You said it’s a balance thing, right? My weaknesses had to go somewhere because they can’t just disappear, so they went to Merlin.”

Gaius nodded, slowly. “There always needs to be a balance.”

“If I drank his blood from the Cup of Life, could I take my weaknesses back?” Arthur asked.

Gaius stared, then jumped up and laughed, startling Arthur and making Merlin jerk in his sleep. “Of course, that’s it!”

“You mean it’ll work?”

“Yes, yes. Why didn’t I think of it? Normally, when blood is put into the Cup of Life, the person does not become so much immortal as undead. The Cup of Life, an inanimate object of magic, takes their life and holds it within itself, a golden chalice, preventing any outside force from taking it.” He stopped and looked at Arthur expectantly.

“But…Merlin didn’t do that with mine. He drank it,” Arthur said.

Gaius nodded. “Yes, he drank yours. A person becomes undead because their life force is contained in an inanimate object – something with no life. But Merlin put your life force into his own, living body. That is why you are still alive and not undead. That is how he truly made you immortal.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, softly. And then a horrifying thought struck him. “And if he had died...?”

“He would have taken your life force with him. That is why objects such as the Cup of Life need to be used with the utmost caution by someone who knows every facet of their being.” He spared a brief, sidelong glare in Merlin’s direction. “Merlin was stupid and foolish for thinking he could do this, but his intentions were pure. And if I know you, sire, as well as I think you do, you won’t let him do something like this ever again.”

Arthur shook his head. “No. I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

“Good,” Gaius said. “Now, I think we need to restore the balance, just like you said. You need to drink Merlin’s blood from the Cup of Life.”

“How do we know I won’t just be taking his life force and making this situation even worse?”

“We don’t. But one person’s body, one soul, was never meant to carry two life forces. His body will unconsciously want to get rid of yours, and this will force it to rid itself of one life force. Which do you think it will hold onto?”

“Its own,” Arthur said. His gaze drifted back down to Merlin. “It would want to keep its own.”

“And we’re providing it with an easy way to get rid of the life force that’s killing him,” Gaius said.

Arthur bit his lip, then nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They went back down to the lower level and Arthur shook Merlin awake. “Merlin,” he said, once Merlin’s eyes had fluttered open, “where is the Cup of Life?”

Merlin blink dazedly up at them. It took his eyes a few moments to settle and when they did, Gaius had to repeat the question.

“My room,” he said. “Under the floorboard.”

Arthur looked of at Gaius, questioningly. “I know the place he speaks of,” Gaius said.

They both moved quickly into Merlin’s chambers, where Gaius knelt down and peeled back a floorboard close to Merlin’s bed. Inside, he could see the pages of an old book and the glimmer of something golden. Gaius reached in, pulling out the Cup of Life.

Gaius handed the Cup to Arthur, who took it gingerly, staring at in awe. The metal exterior was cool to the touch. If he hadn’t known what this really was, he would have mistook it for any number of cups found in the castle.

Abruptly, he wondered how Merlin had gotten the Cup with no one knowing.

“All I have to do is put his blood into this, then drink it?” Arthur asked. His hands were beginning to shake again. “How much blood do we need?”

“Just a drop or two,” Gaius said. He placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, thank you.”

The gratitude was unexpected, and Arthur blinked in response. “For what?”

“For accepting him, for helping him,” and he paused, studying Arthur’s face. “For loving him.”

Arthur flushed, and he shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t...I mean, I want to–”

“It’s all right, sire. It’s just…I’ve been close to his family for a very long time. Hunith and I were close when we were younger. She sent him here, to help him with his magic. She sent him to me so that I might help him control the gift he was born with. She trusted me, even though I lived in the kingdom most dangerous to her only son. She trusted me to protect him, and I have done my best. But I worried–”

And he stopped talking, looking down, ashamed, but Arthur knew what he was thinking, even though it hurt to know that Gaius had had so little faith in him.

“You worried that I would hand him over to my father?”

Gaius nodded. “I am sorry, sire. I love you both, but Merlin has become like a son to me, and the worry one feels for their own child is something you cannot imagine.”

Arthur remembered his own father fighting the Black Knight in his own stead, ignoring the rules of the Knight’s Code so that his son might live to see another day. He recalled all the times his father had tried to keep him back from the front lines of battle, or to prevent him from mindlessly running off to rescue Gwen or Merlin. Guiltily, he remembered brushing off his father’s concern and heading out into danger anyway.

He wouldn’t change anything, even if he could. He couldn’t stop saving people. But perhaps, he could show his father just how much he treasured that concern. His father deserved his gratitude. His father should know that his son loved him.

He reached over and clasped Gaius’s hand with his own. “I will protect Merlin from this day forward. I will ensure he is safe from my father.”

A weight seemed to lift of Gaius’s shoulders, and the old man’s grin threatened to split his face and he clapped a heavy hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said again.

Arthur nodded, then turned and strode over to Merlin’s side, removing the dagger he always kept hidden in his boot.

Merlin eyed the dagger warily. “What are you doing?” he asked. Despite the proximity of the blade, Merlin didn’t look scared.

“I’m fixing you,” Arthur said simply. He took Merlin’s hand in his own. “I’m just going to prick your finger. We’re going to reverse the effects of the spell.”

Merlin nodded, allowing Arthur to pull his hand so the fingers rested on the edge of the Cup of Life. Arthur took the dagger, pressing the tip of it to the tip of Merlin’s smallest finger, hoping he was choosing the finger that Merlin used the least so as to prevent any irritation or pain when the spell was finally reversed. He pressed the sharp edge of the dagger against Merlin’s skin, pulling it back quickly when blood began to well up. He placed the dagger on the floor, then squeezed Merlin’s finger until three drops had landed in the center of the Cup of Life.

Merlin hadn’t made a sound through all of this, but as soon as his blood was in the Cup, his breath hitched.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked. His thumb caressed the back of Merlin’s hand.

Merlin nodded. “Yeah. I can just..I feel the magic. It wants whatever you’re doing to happen. It wants it badly.”

Arthur looked at Gaius. “Does a spell need to be incanted or anything, or do I just…do it?”

“Merlin, did you incant a spell when you drank Arthur’s blood?” Gaius asked, peering over at Merlin’s flushed face.

Merlin shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I just…drank it.” He looked at Arthur. “Arthur, please. Please, hurry. I can’t–”

He gasped, choking, his chest heaving rapidly up and down. Arthur nodded and picked up the Cup, holding it out to Merlin is some sort of salute before tipping his head back and downing the contents.

He felt queasy. The blood was too coppery and too thick; it seemed to get caught in his throat. He felt like it was coating his insides, spreading heat throughout his body.

He leaned forward and groaned. He spared a glance up at Merlin and was happy to note that Merlin was beginning to look healthier. Stronger. Color was returning to his face, and the circles around his eyes didn’t look so severe.

But he was tired. He was suddenly very tired, like he hadn’t slept for days.

Merlin’s worried face was the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness.

* * *When Arthur awoke, he immediately knew some time had passed. He could sense the days that had gone by. He could feel the magic from the Cup of Life burning within him.

And he knew Merlin stood to his left, against the wall, and that he was worried about Arthur, but also knew Arthur was awake, even though he hadn’t said anything. He also knew that Merlin was afraid because the king was in the room.

He kept his eyes closed for a few extra seconds, composing himself, and he was aware that Merlin knew what he was doing, though he couldn’t explain why, and then opened his eyes.

“Arthur,” Uther said, moving to stand over him. “You’re awake.”

Arthur looked at his father, who was smiling, and knew he had been right. Uther cared for him more than he had ever given his father credit for. He nodded. “Yes, father. I’m awake.” He looked around the room, his eyes meeting Merlin’s where he knew the other would be standing against the far wall. Merlin looked good. He looked healthy, and a small smile played upon his lips. Assured that Merlin was safe, he turned back to his father. “What happened?”

Uther shook his head. “Exhaustion. Gaius said you went down to his chambers because you were tired, and then you collapsed. You had worked yourself into a state of exhaustion and your body just couldn’t keep up.”

Arthur frowned. “But–”

“Listen to me,” Uther interrupted. “And listen well. You’re the Crown Prince, and one day you will be King. There will always be duties you need to attend to, things that will eat up your time. People will claim they have important business to discuss.” He paused and covered one of Arthur’s hands with his own. “The hardest part about being king is knowing you cannot do everything and you cannot help everyone. You have to realize that, Arthur, or the effort of saving everyone will kill you.”

Arthur blinked. His father had been worried. He nodded, then. “Yes, Father. I understand, it’s just…”

“Hard?”

Arthur nodded again.

“And it never gets easier. You may be king, the most powerful of all men,” and Arthur couldn’t help but glance over at Merlin, knowing just how wrong his father actually was, “but you are still just a man. You must care for yourself first before you can care for a kingdom.”

Uther stood and looked back at Merlin, who immediately stepped forward. “Sire?”

“You may be an idiot sometimes,” and Arthur could feel Merlin’s annoyance and had to bite his tongue to stop from laughing, “but you are one of the most loyal servants I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Merlin looked flabbergasted, and then he blushed, and the red that spread across his cheeks, a sign of health, sent a bolt of arousal through him, straight to his groin. Merlin jerked, his eyes widening as he stared at Arthur, then forced his gaze back to the floor in front of Uther, blushing even harder than before. “Thank you, sire.”

Uther clapped in on the shoulder. “Take care of him, and see to it that he takes care of himself as well.”

“Yes, sire,” said Merlin, bowing.

Uther nodded, turning back to Arthur. “I expect you to spend the day resting. Gaius tells me you should be able to attend to your duties tomorrow if you take care of yourself,” he said.

Arthur nodded, and his father clasped him on the shoulder and offered a small, crooked smile before he turned and left the room.

Merlin visibly sagged in relief. “Your father scares me,” he said.

Arthur, who hadn’t been expecting Merlin to say anything of the sort, burst out laughing. He laughed so hard and for so long that a stitch began to develop in his side, and he had to curl in on himself. Even when the laughter died away, he couldn’t stop grinning.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Merlin said, his eyes sparkling.

“I am,” Arthur said. He reached out and grabbed a hand, squeezing hard. He knew he was hurting Merlin’s hand a bit, just like he had known where Merlin was standing, but he also knew Merlin was thrilled to see Arthur’s strength returning. Merlin twisted his hand to interlace their fingers, then squeezed Arthur’s hand in return.

“I can feel you,” he said, simply.

Merlin nodded. “I asked Gaius about it, but he doesn’t know for sure what happened. Best I can tell, I still have a bit of your life force and you a bit of mine. Since we’re…” he wave his free hand, searching for the right word, “sharing…life forces, I guess, we’re aware of what the other one is doing.”

Arthur’s heart dropped, and Merlin shook his head, knowing what Arthur was thinking. “No, we fixed it. I’m not feeling your hurts, you’re not feeling mine, we’re just…connected.”

“Like two sides of the same coin?”

“Yeah. Like two– Hey! Who told you about the prophecy?” Merlin looked shocked, and Arthur thought of dragons underneath castles, breathing fires on swords and attacking cities.

“You did. I think. I can…sense it…or something.” He stared into Merlin’s eyes. Had they always been so blue?

“This could be problematic…if we always know what the other is thinking,” Merlin murmured, his lips so close to Arthur’s that Arthur could taste his breath, and now he sensed images of naked skin and groans of pleasure and names gasped into the darkness.

Arthur smiled, tugging on Merlin’s arms. He wanted Merlin in bed with him. He wanted to be held and he wanted to hold and kiss and laugh and stare into Merlin’s eyes. He wanted to do other things, too, but those could wait.

“Yes, they can,” Merlin said, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he grinned down at Arthur. “You’re still too tired to do anything…strenuous.”

“Probably, but lucky me. I’ve always healed fast,” Arthur said.

Merlin snorted.

“Besides, we have to talk about all those things you’ve kept a secret from me,” Arthur said, knowing Merlin could feel how seriously he wanted to know, how much he wanted to rip apart anything separating them. And there was so little now, between them. It would be simple.

Merlin’s magic thrummed between them, as happy and content as Merlin was.

“I’m going to tell you everything,” Merlin said. “And when I do, you’re going to be amazed at just how competent your foolish manservant really is.”

Arthur grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

And then they kissed, and it was slow and slick and perfect.