The title is from Act 5, Scene 3 of Romeo & Juliet. Fellow Merlin/Arthur shippers, feel free to make of that decision what you will. Saying that, this isn't slash, unless you want to squint, which is fine by me, although there isn't much to be squinting at.

It was supposed to be a drabble but it turned into more of a one-shot. Hardly matters. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. It's my first Merlin fanfiction so I'm sorry in advance if it's a total balls-up ;)

Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC and Shine.

'Merlin, apologise! This... is a mistake. I'll drink it!' He reaches for the goblet. It's intended for him anyway but 'no, no, no―' Merlin's slim fingers curl around his wrist, halting him. 'Wh―?' he almost asks as Merlin pushes him away.

'It's― it's alright.' Merlin's voice is an odd mixture of admonishing and soothing, like what he's really saying is Piss off and Calm down at the same time. Arthur only just catches the undertones of fear and humiliation, despite the fact that he has observed that Merlin normally wears his emotions in his eyes and his heart on his sleeve. Arthur realises his manservant is being brave and he hates him for it.

And then... it's awful to watch. It's sick.

Merlin turns so that he is facing Arthur. Idiot, you phenomenal scraggy idiot, and Arthur can see stony conviction in those pale blue eyes. If you live, I'll kill you for scaring me to death. You idiot.

The boy (and God, he is only a boy― How old is he? Arthur wonders randomly. He only looks about twelve. Dammit.) raises the cup to him, in some dreadful parody of a toast.

Don't do this, Merlin, he tries to communicate with his eyes alone. You don't have to. I don't want you to.

Merlin inclines his head to the prince, and his eyes say it all, Of course I have to do this. He's far easier to read than Arthur. I was the worst servant and you were the worst friend. He raises the goblet to his lips. His eyes flash to Arthur's only for the shortest time before he begins to drink but Arthur gets his last message like Merlin had shouted it. Thanks anyway.

Merlin downs the liquid and Arthur's insides turn to ice and then all of a sudden: 'It's fine.' and Arthur turns away in disgust and contemplates asking Lord Bayard if he'll go easy on Merlin so afterwards Arthur can beat him to a satisfyingly mangled and bloody pulp with a sharp stick for being such a―

But there's a cough. Two, three times. He looks around and feels the bottom drop out of everything at the sight of Merlin clutching at his throat, face crumpled in agony. He buckles at the waist, like a ragdoll, onto the floor. Arthur instantly finds himself on his hands and knees at Merlin's side, he hears, somewhere through the mist of horror, his father hissing 'It's poisoned.' but all he can concentrate on is the fact that he can't feel Merlin's breath against his jawbone when he leans down.

This stupid fool's dying words will not be a silent, sarcastic expression of gratitude for Arthur being such a bastard, or an embarrassing acceptance of what turned out not to be true. It's this certainty that has Arthur scooping the lifeless body up and putting it over his shoulder in front of everyone to see.

It's the knowledge that his life has just been saved yet again that has Arthur sprinting all the way to Gaius's chambers, despite the fact that his knees have gone so weak he can barely carry Merlin's dead weight.

Yay? No yay?