His heart felt like fire, constantly burning at his insides, warming the cold that used to settle there and defeat him. He blamed his servant for that calming radiation that healed him and put him back together again. The pain was fading like shattered glass, leaving him entirely whole. It was an easy, steady rhythm he relaxed into that caused less anxiety and pressure to secure itself onto his shoulders. Merlin was the one who made that eased rhythm, that warming sensation. He needed him to get a good enough intake of air to truly survive off of. Maybe he relied too much on the servant, but it felt good to lean on him a little.
Arthur felt safe with Merlin. Safer than he felt around everyone else. Merlin was so trustworthy and kind and loyal that he didn't find any need to worry about the deepening attachment he had with the man. In fact, he hadn't realized how attached and fond he had grown, even as he scooted closer to him in sleep beside the campfire.