When Arthur wakes up in the middle of the night, all he can hear is thunder. He tries to keep his eyes closed, but a bright flash of lightning forces him to groggily open his eyes.
It takes him a minute to see Merlin in the darkness. It isn't until another flash of lightning comes tumbling out of the sky that he can see Merlin. He's just standing there, head hanging low, like all the energy has been sucked out of him.
"Merlin-"Arthur starts.
"Don't." Merlin says sharply. The word is ragged, all sharp edges and half-exhaled breath. Arthur hesitates, not sure what to do.
He hears an aborted keening sound coming from Merlin. His head is still low, his long fingers clenched into fists at his sides. Arthur stands up, starting to feel concerned.
"Merlin?" He asks. He tries to sound commanding and arrogant, but it comes out sounding like he's a small boy again.
Suddenly, Merlin drops to his knees. Before he can hit the floor, Arthur rushes forward and pulls Merlin into his arms.
Merlin's small and cold and wet. He's always ran cold, even in the middle of summer and he's just been outside in the rainstorm. Arthur's always ran hot, burning up and out like the sun. Right now, all Arthur can focus on is how thin Merlin is and how Arthur can feel individual ribs through his weather-worn shirt.
They stay that way for several long minutes, bodies pressed tight against each other. Only when Merlin sags against Arthur does he relax his grip.
"You're freezing. Wait here and I'll get you something dry to wear."
Merlin doesn't acknowledge him. He just stares blankly at the fire. Arthur wants to shake some sense into him. He wants to make a joke or call Merlin an idiot. Anything to make Merlin go back to normal.
When Arthur offers him some old clothes (soft, worn, and far too big for Merlin) Merlin soundlessly puts them on.
Somehow, the silence takes up more headspace than Merlin's normal chatter does. Arthur can't stand it. He wants to go fight someone. He wants to go on some stupid, impossible quest to make everything better.
He moves Merlin closer to the fire and wraps two layers of blankets around his narrow shoulders. Soon, he can't take the silence any longer.
"Merlin, what happened?"
It takes the manservant a few seconds to reply. His voice is blank.
"Gaius is dead." He says. Emotion starts to seep into his voice. "And Arthur, I tried so hard to bring him back, I swear. I poured every bit of magic I had, I willed his heart to start again. I just couldn't save him. I couldn't save him. I couldn't save him."
Finally, Merlin starts crying. His shoulders shake and tears well up in his eyes, but he doesn't make a sound apart from harsh breathing.
"What did you do with the body?" Arthur asks. The second the words leave his mouth, he backtracks. Merlin doubles over, a pitiful noise coming from the back of his throat. "Wait, no, don't answer that. Don't worry about it." And for the second time in the hour, he wraps his arms around Merlin.
"I brought him back to his chambers." Merlin answers anyway. "I couldn't carry him any further."
Fuck. There's so much for Arthur to process right now. So much to be done. But all he can think about is how Merlin's falling apart in his arms.
It takes another half hour until Merlin can stop crying. For that half hour, Arthur doesn't pester him. They just sit there together. Once Merlin is done, Arthur lifts him up and carries him to the bed. He tucks Merlin in under the blankets and slides in next to him.
Once Merlin's breathing has evened out, Arthur gets up again. He changes into dry clothing (and he would have to find out later exactly what had led to Merlin and Gaius being in the rain for so long), then goes to the door. He tells the guards to have Gaius's body moved into the castle, where it will rest in state until the burial. The lightning is gone.
He only thinks about Merlin's inadvertent confession for a second. Arthur had known Merlin had magic for some time, of course, but Merlin didn't know that Arthur knew. The next few coming days and weeks weren't the time to tell Merlin. He could keep that secret for a little longer.
Once the guards have returned and told him that Gaius's body is safe in the castle, Arthur finally gives in. He goes to the antechamber, stuffs his fist in his mouth, and curls in into a little ball. He doesn't cry. Once he has controlled himself again, he slips into his bed again and falls asleep in seconds.
He's never wished for the oblivion of sleep so much.
I am feeling maudlin and dramatic right now, so I wrote another maudlin and dramatic story. In present tense, which always bothers me just a little bit because it's tricky to do right and I never know if I hit the mark.
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