Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its affiliate characters.
It was another tedious, boring, pointless hunting trip. As Arthur crept up ahead, Merlin wondered if he would notice if he turned around and left and went back to camp. He figured he probably would, if only because there was nobody there to do all the work.
He wouldn't really do it anyway. His job was to protect Arthur, and since he was the only one with him, there was really no way of getting out of it. Of course, there never was, as he would always be the only one capable of defending said prat against magical attacks. If only Arthur knew how often those occurred. Just yesterday, he had caught a sorcerer trying to curse Arthur's bed to strangle him in his sleep. This was after he had thwarted at least three attempts to poison him the same week. Arthur simply had no clue as to how many people wanted him dead, and it was probably better that it stayed that way. If he became too alert, Arthur might notice that his bumbling manservant was not all that he seemed to be, and that would mean trouble for both of them.
Merlin was abruptly brought out of his musings by the sound of an arrow hitting its mark. For a split second, he thought that they were being attacked by bandits, again. It certainly happened often enough. However, it was just another successful killing of an innocent animal by the royal prattness himself. "Come on, Merlin!" Arthur called as he slung the deer over his shoulder and walked back towards camp. As he set it down near where the horses were tethered, a realization seemed to hit him. "This deer is too large," he said to Merlin, as if this was somehow his fault. "The horses can't carry this much weight through the week's ride back to Camelot."
"Then, Sire, why did you shoot it?"
"I don't have to answer to you, I'm the King."
"You forgot that we were that far away from Camelot, didn't you?"
The heat in his voice showed that that was exactly what had happened. "No, I simply thought it would make us a nice dinner."
"You do realize that there are only two of us here, right?"
"Yes, Merlin, I can, in fact, count."
"Well then, I don't envy your horse on the way back."
"Merlin,"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
Arthur knew that Merlin could tell that he had indeed forgotten that, instead of being a two day ride from Camelot, as was customary for their hunting trips, they had come almost a week from the citadel to try and avoid any matters of state that had begun to find ways of following them into the woods. However, forgetting this knowledge made Arthur a little self-conscious, and therefore he insisted on cooking the deer himself. This was just fine with Merlin, who had had enough of cooking for the prat, until he remembered that Arthur just can't cook. Unfortunately, the look on Arthur's face made it quite clear that he was going to do this, so Merlin just had to sit back and hope for the best. An hour later, Arthur handed him a steaming bowl of stew that smelled surprisingly good. Merlin took a tentative bite, and was rather shocked that it seemed to have a semblance to actual, normal, food.
"Well, it seems to be edible, which is more than I can say for your previous attempts."
"Oh, you are just begging to be put in the stocks when we return to Camelot, aren't you?"
Before Merlin could reply, Arthur stood up from where he was crouched down at the fire to come and probably cuff him in the head. Unfortunately, he stood up a little too quickly and knocked the entire pot of stew over onto the ground. They both stared at the mess, argument forgotten.
"Blast it all, now our dinner's gone!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Well, you can have the rest of mine," Merlin offered.
"No, go ahead and finish it. I'll pull out some of the dried beef strips out of my saddle bag," Arthur replied, much to Merlin's amazement.
The next day, they mounted up to continue the hunt. However, Merlin soon realized something is not right. He felt all shaky, like he'd been doing strenuous work for the past fifteen hours, not riding a horse and creeping around the underbrush for one. Deciding not to bother the King, who is already annoyed with him for scaring off the only rabbit they have seen all day, Merlin clenched his jaw and pushed on. By the time they stopped for lunch, Merlin felt exhausted. He could barely keep his eyes open, and to top it all off, his legs have started cramping, probably from all the creeping they have to do. With some difficulty, he managed to hide his situation from Arthur. Normally, it would be easy. He would be joking around with the knights and not really paying attention to what Merlin was doing. But this time, it was just the two of them.
Although he really did not want to eat anything, just the thought made his stomach churn, Merlin forced down a little bread, because not eating would scream something was wrong. As they resumed their ride, Merlin began to realize, through the haze that has settled on his mind and the pain that was spreading throughout his body, that he was not going to be able to keep this from Arthur much longer. Checking to make sure that Arthur was busy looking elsewhere, Merlin looked down, briefly allowed his eyes to flash gold, and blocked the pain. He knew this was dangerous, pain is the way that the body communicates something is wrong, but it was only until Arthur was asleep tonight and he could do something about it.
That night, after Arthur had gone to sleep and Merlin had taken first watch, Merlin released his magic, allowing the pain to wash over him again. However, it had gotten much worse since the early afternoon and was now mainly focused on his stomach, though the rest of him still felt achy. Suddenly, Merlin realized that he was about to lose what little was in his stomach, so he ran over to some bushes on the other side of the clearing, away from Arthur. He didn't want him to wake up and call him a girl for losing his dinner. He didn't think he could handle it when he felt like his stomach was turning itself inside out. Unfortunately, Arthur had a lifetime of knight training, and reacted to the smallest sounds out of the ordinary, even when asleep. So, just as Merlin started retching, he heard Arthur call out, "Merlin! Everything okay?" Of course, Merlin couldn't reply. He heard Arthur make his way over to his side, and braced himself for the inevitable insult. However, it didn't come. Instead, he felt a hand grab his shoulders, lending him welcome support, while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. Even after his stomach had nothing left to offer, the dry heaves continued for what seems like an eternity. Eventually, Merlin flopped down, exhausted. He hurt all over, and suddenly the night seemed much colder than it had before he made his hasty retreat to the bushes. All he really wanted to do is shut his eyes and go to sleep. But, before his eyelids could close he heard, "Merlin, are you alright?" He groaned, fighting the darkness at the edge of his vision, "Of course I'm alright, you prat. I just finished puking up everything I've eaten in the last week, and now, when all I want is some peace and quiet, I've got a dollop-head asking stupid questions." Arthur probably made some indignant reply, but Merlin didn't hear it, as he had already surrendered to unconsciousness.
Arthur had awoken to the sound of fast footsteps close by. Looking around, he saw Merlin almost sprinting to the opposite edge of the clearing where they had made camp. He called out, "Merlin! Everything okay?" but the only reply he received was some indistinct noise from behind the bush where Merlin had disappeared. Sighing at his manservant's obvious incompetence, he went over. However, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Merlin, bent double, puking his guts up, each heave seeming to shake his entire body. So, Arthur, instead of voicing the insult which was on the tip of his tongue, went over and placed a supporting hand on Merlin's shoulder, while using the other to rub circles on his back. He felt a little awkward and silly doing this, but there was nobody else there and he knew first-hand how much the gesture was appreciated from the few times he had been ill himself. Finally, after what seemed like an age but was more like half an hour, long after the heaves had brought anything up, Merlin stopped convulsing and collapsed on the ground. "Merlin, are you alright?" Arthur asked, realizing almost immediately that it was a stupid question. As his manservant confirmed this with his typical sarcastic reply, even after what must have been an exhausting ordeal, Arthur noticed that he was shivering slightly, even though the night was warm. He put his hand on Merlin's forehead, and realized that he was burning up with a fever. Arthur reached out to pick him up, too concerned about the heat radiating off his body to process what the reply actually was. He carried Merlin, who was by this point completely unconscious, back to the fire and wrapped him up in both of their blankets. The rest of the night was spent watching Merlin toss and turn in a restless sleep, occasionally muttering a few unintelligible words in what had to be delirium.
By the time the sun rose the following morning, Arthur had become seriously concerned about his manservant. He looked abnormally pale, even for him, and his face held a look of pain that had been there ever since he had fallen unconscious.
Looking at the ominous clouds gathering on the horizon, Arthur decided to risk leaving Merlin for a short time to look for a more sheltered area. He found a cave fairly quickly, and proceeded to take all their supplies there, which took several loads. Finally the cave was ready, and the only thing left was to get Merlin there.
The wind had definitely picked up by now and Arthur could tell the storm was almost upon them. Carefully, he knelt down, slid his arms under his friend, and lifted him gently. Unfortunately, Arthur didn't have the time to carry Merlin as cautiously as he would have liked. Despite not knowing much about healing, he was positive that Merlin getting soaked to the skin would only make whatever he was going through worse. As Arthur moved as fast as he dared towards the cave, Merlin whimpered, causing Arthur to wish even more that he did not have to do this to his friend. Once they made it to the cave, Arthur wasted no time laying Merlin down on the makeshift bed he had made out of leaves near the fire.
At that precise moment, a giant bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, followed by a clap of thunder so loud, Arthur was sure it must have been directly above them. Just then, as if it had been summoned by the thunder, rain began pouring down in sheets. They had made it just in time. As he turned back to Merlin, he saw him sitting up, eyes wide, trembling, obviously not strong enough to support his own weight. Before he collapsed, Arthur grabbed his shoulders, lending him his support. "Hey, it's okay. It was just a clap of thunder." Merlin visibly relaxed, but seemed unwilling to lay back down. Arthur propped him up on the wall, and they sat there in silence for a few minutes. "How long was I out?" Merlin asked.
"It's late afternoon, the day after you decided to be violently ill," Arthur replied with a half-hearted attempt at sarcasm.
"Sorry," Merlin whispered. Now Arthur was really concerned. His servant, actually apologizing? This was bad. Merlin turned his head towards the cave opening, where rain was now coming down in sheets, and winced.
"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.
"I-I'm not sure," Merlin said. "Yesterday morning I started feeling really tired, and just after lunch everything started hurting. After you were asleep, nausea hit me out of nowhere. I think you know what happened after that." Arthur nodded, feeling somewhat guilty that he hadn't noticed earlier.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.
"Until we know what caused this, there isn't much we can do, and with rain pouring down, herbs will be virtually impossible to find," Merlin replied.
"Okay, then let's figure out the cause," Arthur said. "Were you feeling ill at all before we left Camelot?"
"No, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until yesterday morning," Merlin replied, desperately trying to follow the conversation, despite the pain that was returning. He wanted to know what was going on just as much as Arthur did.
"Well," Arthur continued, "Then what happened to you the night before last that didn't happen to me? We ate the same things, went the same places..." Arthur trailed off, having run out of possibilities. However, something he said triggered a memory in Merlin's pain-filled thoughts.
"Wait. The… the night be-before last…" Merlin was having trouble hanging on to his thoughts; nausea was sweeping him again. He had to get this out before he started vomiting again. "What was in the stew?"
"The stew?" Arthur was confused. What stew did he mean? Then he remembered, he had made stew that night, and only Merlin had eaten it. "Just the deer meat and some herbs from my pack."
"How… long…" Merlin forced out, but before he could finish, the dry heaves had begun again, each one more painful than the last, and his world shrank down to just himself and the pain.
Arthur had been concerned about Merlin throughout the conversation; the boy had been growing paler by the minute and was having difficulty in speaking. Therefore, he was not particularly surprised when he started heaving again. He just lent him his support, the same as before, and waited for them to subside. It didn't take as long as the previous time, but it was enough so that when he finished, Merlin slumped over, not seeming to have the strength to move. Arthur lay him back down, and he promptly fell asleep. Arthur felt his forehead, and to his dismay, found that the fever had risen. He got out their water skins and, using Merlin's neckerchief, tried to keep the boy cool.
As they sat in the cave, Arthur started thinking about their conversation. It would make sense that it was the stew, but he didn't want to think that he had done this to Merlin, even if it was an accident. The herbs he knew were harmless, Merlin had packed them specifically for cooking. What had Merlin meant, how long? As he tried to figure out what he had meant, the boy started talking in his delirium.
"No, please. I never wanted to hurt you. Please!"
Arthur was cut to the quick by the way the words were uttered. He sounded like everyone he ever loved was turning their back on him. As much as he wanted to wake Merlin up, he knew he needed to sleep. But, when he didn't stop, and in fact got worse, begging somebody to come back and listen, that he would explain, Arthur couldn't take it anymore.
"It's okay, Merlin. Calm down. Come on, wake up." After gently shaking the boy, Arthur was startled when Merlin sat up suddenly, head whipping back and forth, no doubt looking for whoever it was in his nightmare.
"It's okay. You're safe here," Arthur said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Merlin finally seemed to realize where he was, and calmed down, his dull, pain-filled eyes glazed over with the fever.
"Ar'ur?"
"Yes, I'm here. Just go back to sleep." The last instruction had been unnecessary, as Merlin had already drifted off again. It wasn't too long, though, before his face took on the same look of pain that it had held the night before, and the boy curled in on himself with a soft moan. Arthur hated just sitting there, watching, but there wasn't anything he could do. He just had to wait until Merlin became lucid enough to help him figure out what had happened. If he ever does. That thought haunted him over the next couple hours as he watched the rise and fall of Merlin's chest and tried to keep the fever down. Somewhere along the line, he wasn't really sure when, Arthur must have fallen asleep because he found himself waking up, blinking as he took in the glowing embers of the fire and hearing the drip of water from the trees. Merlin! As Arthur looked over at the boy, he realized that he was sitting propped up on the wall again, watching him. Arthur felt a rush of relief seeing him awake and seemingly aware of his surroundings, followed by concern.
"Feeling any better?" Merlin seemed to consider the question, then replied.
"Everything still hurts, but it's sort of reduced to a dull throbbing now."
"How long have you been awake?" was the next question.
"About half an hour."
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Arthur demanded.
"You were exhausted. I imagine you hadn't slept since you found me puking in the bushes two nights ago?"
"Well, no. Wait, two nights ago?" It was only then that Arthur noticed the sun rising outside the cave.
"It seems we both slept through most of the night, and the storm. The last I remember, we were trying to figure out what caused this."
"Yeah, you asked me 'how long', before you started heaving again. How long what?"
Merlin closed his eyes, trying to remember. That whole conversation had been blurred by pain. Finally he found what he was looking for.
"How long did you cook the stew?"
"What? About fifteen minutes, until steam started coming off the top."
Merlin groaned. No wonder he felt like he had been trampled by a horse.
"You dollop-head! You didn't let the meat cook all the way through."
Arthur paled. He had heard about incidents where someone had eaten undercooked meat. At the very best, they went through days of agony and were weak for a long time afterwards. At worst, they died.
"Oh… Merlin."
Stifling a groan, revealing his pain would just make Arthur feel worse, Merlin told him, "I don't blame you."
"Okay… but I'm still the one who did this to you."
"Well, now we both have learned something. You learned that you can't always just assume everything is as easy as it looks. I learned never to let you cook."
The weak grin that accompanied this statement gave Arthur some reassurance that Merlin would be all right, even if he wasn't there yet
They embarked on their return journey to Camelot the next day. If Merlin noticed that their pace was much slower than normal, he didn't comment. If Arthur noticed the lack of chatter and Merlin's unnatural paleness, he didn't say anything either. Both were just relieved that they were heading home.