A/N: So this is my very first Merlin fic! I only just got into the series (May 2013) but I'm already in love with it, and can't believe it's over. But one thing I always wanted to see, no matter how ridiculous, was some sort of resolution between Merlin and Uther. But that's just how I am. I love to take enemies and make them friends somehow, and out came this little idea.

The castle's dark and empty hallways were the only place of refuge for Merlin's restless limbs on nights such as these, when his worry for the future of Camelot was at its worst, nights when no amount of chores or spell memorization could take his mind away from Morgana's betrayal. But tonight, instead of a quiet, relaxing walk, Merlin felt himself lead straight to the king's chambers, an area strictly forbidden by Arthur (considering how clumsy a manservant he was, and how the king could not be disturbed in his present state). But even so, Merlin wasn't one to give up so easily when he was having a funny feeling, and so he pushed open the door and crept inside.

Uther was laid out straight beneath the royal bed sheets, his eyes moving almost frantically beneath their lids, mouth open in a gasp. Merlin moved towards the bed as quietly as he could, blue eyes flashing gold, lighting a few candles near the king's bed. He laid a hand carefully over Uther's brow, only satisfied when he felt no fever. As he was moving his hand away, the king's eyes shot open, and a strong hand clenched tightly over his own. Startled, Merlin jerked back, but the king would not release his grasp on the young servant.

"My Lord-" Merlin whispered, stilling beneath Uther's hold. Though the king's piercing gaze was fixed directly on him, the gaze was sightless.

"Arthur." The tone was lacking the usual harshness that Merlin was used to hearing; it was instead imploring and somewhat feeble. Unsure of what to do, Merlin did not move from his place beside the bed. "Don't go."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Merlin played along, praying the king wouldn't awake and toss him in the dungeons, "I'm not leaving you," he responded.

"So alone- I'm sorry," the hand tightened around his, "Sorry, Arthur."

If Merlin looked close enough, deep within those bright blue eyes staring back at him so openly, he could see traces of regret shining in the tears that refused to fall. In respect for his king Merlin shifted his own gaze down to their hands, bitterly noticing the vast difference between the two. One was large, soft and unblemished, albeit shaking. The other, slightly smaller, with dirt embedded around the nails, and callouses roughening the skin.

King and servant.

"Don't apologize," Merlin mumbled, glancing back up to see Uther still staring at him. Bringing up his other hand, he hesitantly clasped the top of the king's hand that had yet to release his own, he hoped the gesture was a comfort to the disturbed mind. "None of this was your fault," he lied, knowing full well if Uther hadn't been such a merciless tyrant, then maybe Morgana wouldn't have felt the need to betray her own father.

"My son," that single word was spoken with so much warmth, for a second Merlin didn't believe what he had heard. The tears that fell from blue eyes were not the king's, but the servant's.

"I wish you had been the father that Arthur needed," Merlin's voice wavered beneath his emotion, "the king your people needed." But his words were wasted on deaf ears, and eventually the hand beneath his grew limp, and the eyes slipped shut. Laying the king's hand comfortably back on the sheets, Merlin stepped back, hurriedly brushing away the tears.

A yawn took him by surprise, and he turned away from the man before him and made his way quietly back to Gauis' chambers.