Set some point during season 3, so spoilers for everything before then. I don't really know when in season 3 but I won't really be going into details of stuff in the show so it shouldn't matter much. Please read and review xx

Everything was taking its toll. He was so tired - of Arthur, of Camelot, of everything, and this time things didn't seem to be getting better.

They were getting worse.

He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, and barely more than three hours for the last two weeks. He was drained and could barely make the effort to move.

But he kept on going. He'd like nothing more than to sleep for a thousand years but there were sorcerers out there who wanted revenge on the Pendragon's and god knows that Arthur wasn't going to protect himself. Merlin didn't have the time to rest. He had chores to complete and evil plots to weed out and herbs to pick and sorry but sleeping didn't make it high enough up the priority list.

But even when he tried to sleep he couldn't. All he could see was the people he'd loved - and the people he'd lost.

Will. His best friend, gone forever. His memory tarnished by Merlin's sorcery.

Freya. He beautiful love, the one person Merlin had truly loved, slain at Arthur's unknowing hand. All she had wanted was protection and Merlin, with all his great power, had failed even at that.

Balinor. The father he'd never had the chance to know. On his journey with Arthur to find the dragonlord Merlin had fantasized about finding him and bringing him back - pardoned - to Ealdor - to Hunith. To the people who missed him. He'd never had the chance.

Even Morgana, the girl she used to be, destroyed by Merlin and Morgause alike. She had been driven away by his fear and his ineptitude and come back a changed woman, a witch of great potential power and even greater hatred. Morgana had been ruined, corrupted. She was an example of what magic could do, what Uther and Arthur feared. And it was his fault.

When he tried to sleep all he could see was their faces, haunting him from beyond the grave, the image of Freya and her sweet smiles and Morgana and her teasing ones and Balinor holding the carved dragon - the one he'd made especially for Merlin so soon before he died for his son.

And so Merlin was tired and tormented and exhausted. He could barely stand, though he was good at faking it for Gaius, and staggered about the castle, a haunted look permanently etched on his tired face.

So it really shouldn't have been a surprise when he collapsed on the stairs.

oOo

Arthur was worried.

He didn't admit it often - or indeed at all - but this occasion was also rare enough to warrant his concern.

Over the last few weeks Merlin seemed to have lost his spark. He was becoming listless, empty - dare he say it - the perfect servant. Arthur had not been woken by an 'up and at it you lazy daisy' in weeks. It was surprising how much he missed it. It discomforted him and Arthur usually covered that up by inventing chores for Merlin to do.

Merlin was quiet and rarely responded to his barbs, even when Arthur provided ample opportunity - the kind he only reserved for Merlin. He was drawn and closed off and sometimes Arthur couldn't even bare to look him in the eyes, a feeling of guilt and pity coming over him for reasons he couldn't explain.

Well, he'd have to talk to Gaius about it - maybe the physician would know more than Arthur did.

There was a knock on the door.

That was odd. Merlin - and that was who it had to be - never knocked. This was just more proof he wasn't himself - and Arthur didn't like it at all.

George walked in, quietly unnoticeable; except for the fact that Arthur had been looking.

"George?"

"Milord?" George looked delighted that the Prince knew his name.

"Where's Merlin?"

"I don't know sire. I was just sent a message this morning informing me that my services would be required."

Arthur thought that it was odd of Gaius to send Merlin off for herbs without telling Arthur first, but a lot of things Merlin had been doing lately were odd, so Arthur wasn't really in any position to complain about it.

Today he'd deal with Mr Perfect Servant.

Never again.

oOo

Arthur wasn't expecting Merlin to get back until tomorrow - goodness knows how often he got lost whilst hunting, and that was in a decently sized group. George was emotionless (as usual) and punctual (as usual), the complete opposite of everything Merlin usually was - only now he wasn't.

It wasn't until the Council meeting he really thought of it again. He'd been sitting in his chair, bored but pretending not to be. When he was King he'd have to feign even deeper interest into the sheep disputes of the North and West and then he'd have to come up with a solution. How fun that would be.

Someone had made an offhand comment, commenting on the conspicuous lack of Gaius at the table, only to be informed that Gaius was tending to his injured ward and would be unavailable for the day.

Arthur nearly fell off his chair in surprise.

Merlin had been injured?

How had he not heard about this?

Merlin was his servant. Shouldn't he be the first to know something like this - particularly as it was preventing the man from doing his work and Gaius was doing his job.

He couldn't rush off - his father would not be at all pleased if Arthur blew off a council meeting to enquire after the welfare of a servant after all and there was not news to indicate that Merlin was in any serious condition (in fact, for Arthur, there had been no news to indicate he'd been injured at all.)

But Arthur still couldn't concentrate for the whole of the meeting.

oOo

As soon as the meeting was over, an antsy Arthur practically ran from the Council chambers to the physicians chambers before realising how silly he looked - the Prince running around after a servant, and Merlin at that - and slowing to a walk outside the physicians rooms. He knocked on the door, unsure as to whether it was a good sign or not that he couldn't hear anything from within.

"Come in!"

Gaius sounded fine - mostly. That was good, wasn't it?

"Sire! I hadn't expected to see you."

Arthur realised how odd it was for him to seem concerned about his servant and so invented, "I was hoping for something that could help with some bruises I got in training yesterday. They are rather strategically placed so that sleeping rather difficult."

"Yes, it would seem you are not the only one having trouble sleeping."

"Oh?" Arthur feigned interest, wanting to see if Gaius would tell him about Merlin.

"Yes." Gaius turned away to reach for an ointment. "Merlin seems to be having trouble with that too."

"Really?" Now he was genuinely interested.

"He seemed exhausted."

"By what?" Arthur couldn't fathom it. He'd been much lighter on the boy lately - hadn't he? No, he realised, he hadn't.

"He's been doing too much work on too little sleep."

Now the sleep Arthur wasn't responsible for.

Almost as if cued, there came a cry from Merlin's bedroom and Gaius walked as swiftly towards it as he could only to be beaten by Arthur who's nerves were wired. Arthur threw open the door and it slammed into the wall, only to find that Merlin was alone in the room, twisting and writhing on the bed, undisturbed even by the crashing of the door. The servant was drenched in sweat and was pulling faces that Arthur couldn't bear to look at, like he was being burnt alive.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's exhausted and he's been having nightmares. He's down here today because he collapsed earlier and fell backwards down the stairs. And he can't get any decent sleep because I'm having to wake him from nightmares every hour or so."

Well, the nightmares weren't his fault (he hoped), but the work certainly was. He'd given Merlin too much to do - and the younger man was suffering for it. He couldn't do anything about the dreams, but he could make the boys workload lighter.

His only dismayed thought, as he watched Gaius shake Merlin to wake him, was that George would be hovering for longer than he'd expected.

oOo

Merlin returned from his day off looking better rested than he had in weeks. He was still pale (but then again, Merlin always was) and he still had a haunted look in his eyes; but the shadows under his eyes had lightened and Arthur thought he'd caught Guinevere coax a genuine smile out of him.

And if his workload was lighter than it had ever been, well then no one could prove that.