Chapter Text
Art / Words: Guided by the light:
Merlin was having another nightmare. Arthur had hoped that some time away from the confines of the castle may have stopped them — a change of scene, some fresh air. But if anything, this night terror seemed worse.
It was to be expected, he supposed; only a few weeks ago Merlin had nearly died from drinking poison, poison meant for Arthur.
The prince had done his duty; he had gone on a quest to save his servant — it was the right thing to do, the honourable thing to do, the only thing he could do.
Arthur had battled fierce creatures, confronted that strange but beautiful magical woman and fought his way out of a cave of giant spiders. All to retrieve the Mortaeus flower, the cure for Merlin.
As a knight and a Crown Prince, Arthur was expected to serve his people but this was the first time Arthur had risked his life to save an individual that wasn’t noble, wasn’t royal, wasn’t even family. He’d done it anyway, despite his father's disapproval and it had felt good, really good — right up until he’d landed in the dungeons.
Clearly, the King of Camelot did not think the chivalry of knights extended to servants and Uther’s ‘lesson’ could have resulted in Merlin losing his life. Arthur did not want to think about that. He’d not known Merlin that long and yet the thought of losing him caused a sharp pain in his chest he could not stand and did not want to deal with.
Thankfully Merlin recovered. The Mortaeus flower had been delivered to Gaius, the cure administered just in time and everything went back to normal: Prince Arthur, went back to being the dutiful son; King Uther, the righteous and powerful leader of Camelot successfully avoided conflict with another kingdom and thwarted a magical attack; Merlin went back to being a servant to the prince.
Everything had returned to the way it was before. Nothing had changed, as if nothing mattered. Elaborate castles built in sand, erased by the tide — all that effort for nothing, wiped out and gone.
On the surface, nothing had changed but Arthur's views began to differ from those of his father. He no longer had quite the same level of respect or unquestionable faith in Uther’s abilities as a monarch or as a parent.
Then there was Merlin. Arthur could not help thinking about Merlin, what he had done, what he had risked. Arthur was no stranger to people doing things for him, endangering their lives for his but usually it was because they were told to, because it was expected or they merely sought to earn favour with royalty. Merlin’s actions were spontaneous, selfless and bordering on stupid but he’d done them anyway — he’d repeatedly tried to warn or protect Arthur, in his own gormless way.
In response to his servant's heroic act, Arthur had teased and insulted Merlin. He had continued to throw blunt objects at his head and make ridiculous demands. How else could Arthur keep his feelings hidden?
The constant turmoil of these new feelings had kept the prince awake. That’s why Arthur found himself outside the physicians quarters in the middle of the night, seeking a sleeping draft.
As the prince approached Gaius’ chambers he heard someone shouting “Too dark”.
Arthur slowed, pausing to listen. That was Merlin. He was mumbling incomprehensibly. Arthur couldn’t make out what. But then...
“Leave them, Arthur! Save yourself!”
Arthur froze, suddenly cold.
“Follow the light.”
Those were the words that had been in Arthur’s head! Those exact words, as that strange ball of light had bobbed above him, illuminating the cave and guiding him to safety. How had Merlin known?
“Merlin, Merlin wake up!” Gaius’ voice was gruff and urgent. “That’s it ... easy my boy ... drink this.” The physician's tone was softer now, coaxing and by the sound of the cough that followed he had successfully got Merlin to wake up and drink something.
There was a creaking sound then retching.
Arthur’s hand shot to the door ready to burst in but something made him stop.
“Merlin, this can’t go on.” Gaius said.
“It will stop soon.” Merlin's groggy voice was hopeful rather than confident.
“It’s been ten days, you're exhausted,” the physician warned.
“Can’t you give me something?”
“You’ve already had the strongest sleeping draft I’ve got, it would be dangerous to give you anymore — ”
“Something to keep me awake then — ”
“No Merlin.” Gauis cut him off, “Your body needs to rest and to recover. You almost died! Keeping yourself going artificially will only lead to more problems. Please tell me you have not been using—”
Crash!
Arthur was leaning against the door and the flimsy wood was no match for the knight’s bulk. It swung open and hit the wall.
Arthur ran. Like a naughty child, he sprinted away and was around the corner and out of sight before Gaius’ arthritic knees would have allowed the aged physician to pursue him. The castle was drafty and doors flying open of their own accord were quite common or so Merlin often told him. He did not want to have to explain what he was doing lurking in the corridor, even though as a prince he had every right to be there.
As he raced back to his chambers, Arthur’s head spun with the information he had discovered. How had he failed to notice how tired and rundown Merlin had been? Truth was, he had noticed but thought the grey pallor and sluggish movements of his servant were just side effects of the poison, not ongoing nightmares. If Merlin could not perform his duties to an adequate standard, his father would take pleasure dismissing Merlin from the royal service. The king had not liked the attention Arthur had bestowed on a servant and would look for an excuse to get rid of him at any opportunity. Arthur maintained an air of indifference to Merlin’s worsening state but there was only so much he could do. He had not realised the extent of the problem. Something more drastic must be done.
Arthur attempted to ask nonchalantly after Merlin's well being, casually dropping it to conversation after Merlin tripped over his own feet, got out the wrong clothes and dropped a tray of food. But the servant shrugged off Arthur's enquiries with the obligatory 'I'm fine!'
“Really? Because you seem pretty useless to me—” Arthur picked up the goblet, ready to launch the missile at Merlin, but the servant did not even flinch or try to escape. Arthur immediately changed tack, slamming the cup down so hard Merlin jumped. “We’re going hunting!”
This proclamation was not met with the usual resistance or smart remarks. Merlin just shrugged already drooping shoulders and did not complain, which in itself was an indicator of how wrong everything was. Instead, he turned dutifully and started packing their bags, following the prince to the courtyard in some sort of daze.
Arthur did not have a successful hunt, but that wasn’t really his objective. Physical exertion and fresh air would hopefully promote a good sleep for Merlin. After a day trapping through the woods, they set up camp and Arthur volunteered to take first watch.
Merlin seemed to fall into a slumber as soon as his body hit the ground and Arthur smiled at the simplicity and effectiveness of his plan.
It did not last.
An hour into the watch, Merlin began to toss and turn. Arthur stood helpless as soothing whispers and pats to Merlin’s back did not calm or wake him.
Arthur had never disclosed exactly what had happened on his quest nor the nature of the help he received. He had kept his report deliberately vague, so no one but Arthur knew about the cave of spiders and the magical light.
As Merlin became more agitated, his body jerked and he made more noise. Arthur glanced around hoping Merlin would not attract attention to their location. Dealing with anything unsavoury was the last thing they needed but no attempts to quieten or settle the servant seemed to work.
This was a complete disaster. What had Arthur been thinking? He pulled Merlin into his lap, holding thrashing arms and kicking legs until Merlin stilled and went limp in his grasp. Holding Merlin’s flaccid form was perhaps more scary than when he had been so animated.
Still deep in a sleep he could not be torn from (and Arthur was beginning to suspect one of Gaius’ potions was in play), Merlin began to speak.
The words sent a chill down Arthur’s spine. He’d blocked out the memory of hearing Merlin paraphrasing his own houghts as he’d been escaping from the cave — it was just a coincidence. A coincidence that was happening again — it was if Merlin had been there with him. But that was not possible.
Arthur could even maintain the facade that the strange syllables Merlin shouted were not spells but random utterances born of night terrors. They had to be. The alternative did not bear thinking about.
What he could not ignore was the golden light escaping from beneath Merlin's sooty lashes or the sphere of light dancing above Merlin’s palm.
Magic.
Merlin had magic. It could not be. And yet as if in defiance, the light bobbed higher.
“Why, Merlin? How could you do this to me?” He pleaded but instinctively his hand reached out to touch the light.
There was a low growl.
Arthur’s head shot up. From within the trees bright yellow eyes bore into him, not one pair but several. Wolves. They were surrounded. Damn it.
His hand flew to his sword but before Arthur could even wrestle the weapon from its sheath, the ball of magical light grew brighter. Arthur had to shield his eyes. He crouched over Merlin as a blast of energy sent the howling creatures flying. Several thuds were heard, then nothing.
After extracting himself and laying Merlin gently down, Arthur went to investigate. With a shaky sword arm Arthur walked several metres into the wood and saw the still, lifeless bodies of five large wolves.
‘Well I’ll be damned’ Arthur mused. He nudged each animal with his foot but they we’re all dead. “That’s impressive for someone who doesn’t like killing.” Arthur said with a slight tremble in his voice. The light above his head dimmed, as if responding to the accusation but it did not go away.
“You protected me.” Arthur said, “All this time you’ve had magic and you’ve used it to help me.” He rubbed his brow. This was a lot to process.
The light guided him back to Merlin who ironically was sleeping soundly. Arthur flopped down beside him. “What now?” He said.
Merlin did not respond. The ball of light just bobbed innocently — it was kind of beautiful, just like it’s creator… no, Arthur did not want to pursue that, not now, not yet.
He picked at the grass and rubbed his shoulders but received no comfort from the action. What was he going to do? Turn Merlin in? Leave him? Run him through whilst he slept? Arthur shuddered, each thought more abhorrent than the last.
“I won’t tell.” He announced defiantly. “I’ll keep it a secret until you’re ready to tell me.”
Merlin slept on.
“Is that what you want?”
Merlin did not stir. It would be dawn soon.
The light hovered in front of Arthur for a moment then sank back to Merlin’s palm and disappeared. The faint glow beneath Merlin’s eyes also dissipated and Arthur suddenly felt quite alone, despite the company.
Merlin finally woke just before noon. There had been no more nightmares — he had slept soundly (which was more than could be said for Arthur).
Arthur had packed up camp and was waiting poised with a stick in his hand when Merlin finally opened his eyes and looked around.
"Morning!” Arthur said curtly, “Or should I say afternoon?”
Merlin scrambled about apologetically until Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s alright, everything is ready to go. You slept a long time, you must have needed it.”
Merlin flushed crimson and rubbed his head, “Sorry, I’ve not had much sleep recently,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Better now?” Arthur asked.
Merlin paused for a moment then looked up, eyes no longer bloodshot, skin no longer grey.
“Yes,” he said with a shrug. “What did I miss?”
“Oh, the usual. We were set upon by a pack of ferocious wolves," Arthur bared his teeth and made a clawing motion with his fingers, "which you slept through whilst I single handedly saved the day,” He finished sardonically.
Merlin glared at Arthur wide eyed then broke into a snort. “You’re so funny.
“Aren't I just!” Arthur poked Merlin with the stick. “Come on! Get a move on, you lazy daisy!”
“You can’t say that.”
“Why? I’m a prince, I can say what I want.”
Merlin shook his head, a smile playing on his lips as he packed his things away.
“Merlin?” Arthur put a hand on his arm. “You can tell me stuff, you know. I would listen.”
Merlin stilled, all the colour draining from his face. He nodded. “Nothing to tell."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Merlin shrugged. "Maybe one day.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Arthur said ruffling his hair. “Now get a move on, plenty of smelly socks to wash and armour to clean when we get back.
As they mounted the horses and made the returning journey to Camelot, Arthur looked at Merlin, really studied him. Merlin seemed better, at least on the surface: rested, improved pallor and posture but still haunted. Arthur could see it now, the strain of hiding a secret. Arthur would have to take on that burden as well.
It was not forever. Maybe one day, Merlin could share his secret. That’s what Arthur hoped. Then maybe he could share his secret too. They could be honest with each other. Merlin could tell him about the magic and Arthur could tell Merlin he was more than a servant, more than a just a friend. But until then, everything had to go back to the way it was before.
The End