Merlin woke that morning shivering, despite the fact that he was completely underneath all of his blankets. Of course, this wouldn't have been too unusual (Gaius' bedding often left much to be desired), except for the fact that it was the middle of summer and he had gone to bed sweating. Now he was so cold he could see his breath. Teeth chattering, Merlin slipped out from underneath the blanket and tentatively placed a toe on the floor.
At the slightest contact, Merlin jerked his toe back in bed. The floor felt like hot iron, and he checked his foot for burn marks. But nothing. He was still shaking inside, but then tried again with his other foot. Searing hot, the floor seemed to taunt him. Behind his bedroom door, he could hear Gaius busily fixing breakfast and muttering some sort of herbal recipe to himself.
"Gaius?" Merlin called out. His breath was visible, and floated lazily up to the ceiling and slowly dissipated. A gruff answer came from behind the door, and finally Gaius appeared, holding a bowl of mush and a hunk of bread.
"Well?" he asked impatiently. "Arthur isn't going to wait all day for you, you know. And you might as well eat your breakfast; I know you skipped out on – good lord, Merlin, what has happened to you?"
"I don't know." Merlin's response felt half-choked by the visible clouds of, well, whatever it was that came out of his mouth. "I'm freezing."
"Freezing? In this heat?" Gaius put the bowl down and came forward, placing his wrist on the young boy's forehead. He gasped in shock. "You can't be freezing. You're practically burning! Does this have something to do with your magic?"
"How should I know?" Merlin asked angrily. "Can't someone get sick and not be interrogated?"
"Merlin, this is a sickness I've never seen, and it's few and far between when I've never seen it. This steam coming off you, and from your mouth – quite unusual, I'd say. And for goodness' sake, stop looking at me as if I made you clean out the leech tank again. If I'd known how disagreeable you'd be this morning, I wouldn't have argued with you last night." Gaius handed Merlin a glass of water. "Drink this."
"Thanks," Merlin mumbled, pouring the water down his throat. He choked on it. "It feels like fire going down my throat!"
"Very odd indeed. I'll try to look it up, I'm sure I have a book that mentions something about these sorts of fevers. In the meantime, you'd better try to drink that water." Gaius waddled out of the room, half closing the door and muttering under his breath about Merlin's mental condition added to a curse he'd taken up recently.
Merlin sat back, aching, confused, and (he admitted to himself) angry with Gaius. He was still fuming about last night's argument – the usual magic and Arthur argument he and Gaius had been having on a semi-daily basis for the past two months. But last night had been the breaking point for both of them. Gaius had finally yelled in exasperation, "Just because you want to snog the prince doesn't mean you need to tell him all your secrets!" And, well, Merlin had gone to bed without dinner (his stomach painfully reminded him) and without another word to Gaius.
A voice at the door made his stomach jump. "Gaius! Where is that good for nothing servant of mine?" Arthur. Merlin shifted his weight so he could see the prince more fully. Arthur must have been in a hurry to get there – his shirt was still open at the front and showed a tantalizing amount of pale skin and chest hair.
"Sire, I'm afraid –"
"What's the excuse now, Gaius?" Arthur asked brusquely. "If he's gone running off again, I swear I'll tear him limb from limb. My stables are in disarray and I haven't had my breakfast yet." He paused, lips terse." Has Merlin's run off for some sordid encounter with Gwa-?"
"My lord!" Gaius interrupted, shocked. "Think what you're saying, I beg you. Merlin is feeling under the weather this morning and is in his bedchambers." He made an obviously jerk with his head towards Merlin's room.
Arthur swallowed. "Merlin?" he called in his deliciously husky voice.
And Merlin had the decency to respond using a particularly loud gagging sound, the steamy-looking vapor pouring from his mouth at such a rate Merlin thought he might be vomiting his soul. Though he could no longer see Arthur, Merlin could imagine the look of distaste on his face.
As soon as the moment had passed, Merlin felt perfectly fine. He sat up quickly, testing his feet on the floor. He felt perfectly normal again. No shivers, no burning, nothing. "I'm here Arthur," he called, trying to sound cheerful. "I'll be with you in a moment."
"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, the tiniest hint of sympathy in his voice. Somehow he had made it to the door and was watching as Merlin pulled a shirt over his head, rubbed his face in the washbowl and drank his glass of water in quick succession.
"Of course, m'lord," Merlin said. He snatched up the bread and mush from the dresser where Gaius had left it. "I'm off to the stables, right now."
"No, don't worry about it," Arthur said, still looking as if Merlin might be diseased. "We have other things to attend to. Lord Bayard and King Olaf are both arriving today."
"They weren't supposed to be here until—"
"I know, Merlin, but kings don't like to stick to agendas if they can help it. Word must have reached them about my father's condition, and I'd very much like to be as prepared as I can when they arrive. Ready?"
Merlin nodded, then followed obediently. Gaius shot Merlin a look, along the lines of "how the hell did you get better?" and "this is vital for the future of Albion so don't mess it up." Merlin chose to ignore the first and just gave Gaius his "I know" face. Gaius had the decency to roll his eyes, and then throw his arms up and just chuckle at the absurdity of it all.