"Arthur," Merlin said, quietly.
Arthur stood at the window, his back to Merlin and his arms wrapped around himself. "I hate the first day of winter, Merlin." Camelot, normally so full of activity and colour and life, was a monotone of dreary grey, bleak and still, oppressive.
Moving to stand behind Arthur, Merlin placed a tentative hand on Arthur's waist and felt him shiver. "You're cold, sire. I've warmed a bath for you." Merlin took Arthur's arm, tugged gently, and Arthur followed, unresisting.
Merlin watched Arthur worriedly as he stood, stock-still and unseeing, as Merlin removed his clothing, piece by piece. Arthur's expression never changed, even as he stepped into the tub and sank down into the hot water. Merlin bathed him in silence, the only sounds in the room the crackling of the logs on the fire and the gentle lapping of the bathwater.
Drawing the soapy linen over Arthur's hunched shoulders and down his back, Merlin washed there with large, soothing circles. He stroked every inch of Arthur's body; his arms, his hands and feet (so carefully, between each finger, each toe), his long legs and strong thighs and between, gently washing there though that part of Arthur was as still and lifeless as the rest.
After rinsing Arthur with clean water, he dried him as carefully as he had washed, and wrapped him in furs that he'd warmed before the fire, before leading him to the bed. Arthur sat on the edge, his eyes large and sombre as he watched Merlin move about the room, picking up clothing and fetching a small vial from the table.
"Here, sire. Drink this." He tilted the bottle at Arthur's lips and Arthur drank with no protest. "Gaius made it for you, to help you sleep tonight."
Arthur nodded, then climbed beneath the blankets that Merlin had turned back. He looked up at Merlin. "You'll stay with me tonight?"
"Of course." Merlin undressed quickly and slipped beneath the blankets with Arthur, wrapping his arms around Arthur when he moved close to huddle against Merlin. Merlin rubbed Arthur's shivering arms as they lay, naked, pressed together from forehead to foot.
Arthur pulled his head back to look at Merlin's face. "Was he proud of me, Merlin?"
Swallowing the lump wedged in his throat, Merlin nodded. "Yes, sire. He was."
"Did he…did he love me?"
Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes and couldn't bear the distress he saw there. He leaned forward and kissed Arthur's forehead. "Yes, Arthur. He did."
Arthur nodded and tucked his head beneath Merlin's chin. Sooner than Merlin would have thought, Arthur relaxed, limp within Merlin's arms and his breathing grew deep and even. Merlin slipped his fingers into Arthur's hair and pressed another kiss to the top of Arthur's head.
"Sleep well, my king," he murmured, and then tried to drift into sleep himself. They would have to rise early in the morning for Uther's burial.