Merlin was fading.
It was obvious from the way his bones stood out just a little bit more. From the way his cheeks lost colour and the way his eyes lost their spark. It was obvious from the way he wouldn't banter anymore, how he wouldn't smile as often, from the way he fidgeted.
Arthur noticed all of it. Noticed the way Merlin was later than usual in the mornings, noticed the way Merlin was unhealthy. Most of all, he saw the fear and worry Merlin was trying to hide.
"Are you unwell?" Arthur asked, blurting it out suddenly while Merlin was polishing his armour. And as he watched, waiting for a response, Merlin tensed, his back stiffening and his shoulders squaring, and it made Arthur wonder what it was that Merlin feared so much. But Merlin wouldn't tell him. Instead, he smiled, a weak smile that Arthur knew to be fake, and shook his head.
Arthur was impatient, Merlin knew that, and Arthur wondered why Merlin would keep secrets from him. They were best friends, and closer, some would say, than even that. Merlin knew everything about him, and Arthur knew everything about Merlin - even though they didn't always talk about it.
"Eat." He ordered.
"I have no appetite," Merlin muttered over and over and over again, but Arthur wouldn't listen. Not when Merlin looked so fragile. Not when Merlin looked so brittle. Arthur sighed, looking down at Merlin who looked back up at him with big, petrified blue eyes - eyes that used to be so full of life and energy that now seemed dead. "Eat. Please."
Merlin's hand shook as he brought the spoon to his lips, and Arthur's heart ached at the sight, ached with the need to help him. Merlin swallowed slowly, one spoonful, and then another, and a third, before dropping the spoon and turning away from the brunch quickly, retching.
One hand clutched his stomach, and the other gnawed at the chair arm, as Merlin leaned over and emptied out his stomach on Arthur's bedroom floor. After a while, it seemed like he was vomiting air, heaving and gagging out nothing. Arthur was by his side in a flash, wiping at his face and holding him almost in an embrace, firm arms enclosing him against a broad, toned chest. And then Arthur realized that with the spew, he was wiping tears.
Merlin cried silently, as silently as he grieved., and it made Arthur's heart throb.
Suddenly, Merlin was fainting, falling back into Arthur's chest, exhaustion etched into his bones, eyelids falling, heavy and surrendering against the pain. And as he fell, right before he lost consciousness, he gasped a word, two syllables swallowed in one, broken and agonizing. "Sorry."
"Is he going to be alright, Gaius?" Arthur fretted, sitting down by Merlin's unmoving form where he lay corpse-like on Arthur's bed. "This is all my fault," he thought out loud, and he looked away from the tormenting image of his dearest, down at his hands that clenched around each other, nails biting into skin, forming scars. "He should be up by tomorrow. Just let him rest for the night."
Gaius's words were assuring, but not assuring enough, and Arthur spent the night by Merlin's side, watching him with restless eyes, his mind playing a million different possibilities and scenarios in a second.
When morning came and Merlin still hadn't waken, Arthur finally got into bed. He curled himself around Merlin, daring not to think that this would be the last time he'll able to be near him, to hold him, and he closed his eyes, giving in to fatigue.
Arthur woke up when he felt something shift below him, subtle, small movements that his ninja-like hunting skills responded to, even in his doze. He opened his eyes quickly, alarmed, not quite remembering the events of the previous night until he saw himself sprawled over his manservant.
"Merlin," Arthur said. He sighed it, tested it out on his tongue, rolled it around and played with it, enjoying the fact that he could do this - that he could say Merlin's name to Merlin's waking form, to Merlin's conscious waking form in the late morning.
He didn't bother getting off of Merlin's squished body, but hugged him closer instead, his half-asleep mind telling him that he was Prince and therefore had the right to hug whomever he liked whenever he liked, and that these gooey feelings breaking his chest were more than enough excuse for his actions. In fact, if his pride allowed him to, he would kiss Merlin on the spot, and whisper he loved him, over and over and over again until Merlin got fed up with it. But he wasn't that sleepy, and so instead he thought it, 'I love you, I love you, I love you, Merlin,' playing again and again in his mind. And when he looked down at Merlin, he knew he wouldn't have needed to say it anyway, because Merlin's eyes were blue and alive again and the look he threw Arthur's way said he knew, he knew.
"Were you worried about me?" Merlin asked teasingly, after they'd gotten themselves untangled and within a more appropriate distance from each other. And Arthur grinned, then gotten very serious, sobering, and saying, "I was. You've been starving yourself. And what for? What were you afraid of, Merlin?"
But Merlin looked down and away, breaking their eye contact with a guilty look, as if he was ashamed - and Arthur hated it.
"You don't have to be scared. You haven't done anything wrong. You've never done anything wrong, Merlin. You've saved my life on so many occasions, and for that I am in debt to you forever,"
"I will protect you with my life, Merlin. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me."
Merlin looked up at Arthur quickly, confused and happy and so many emotions all at once, but Arthur could see that finally, none of them were fear.
"I thought I lost you. Merlin, I love you, and I never want to lose you. I love you."
He whispered the last part and watched, watched Merlin's eyes gain their spark, watched the colour come back to Merlin's cheeks and watched the smile - the smile he missed and loved so much - play at Merlin's lips for the first time in what seemed like ages. And then he knew everything was going to be just fine.