Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
Doubt
Arthur was sprawled on his bed, one arm bent under his head the other hanging loosely off the side. His hair was slick against his forehead. Merlin paused to stare.
Arthur was beautiful. It wasn't really a mater of opinion, he had been bred from noble genes, generation after generation of regal faces and lithe bodies. But Arthur was different; he shone with something ethereal yet strong. Years of strict sword work hadn't hurt his physique either, Merlin thought while catching a glimpse of Arthur's toned chest through the cream undershirt.
It wasn't that Merlin found Arthur particularly attractive, it was just, well, Arthur was Arthur. Arthur was a prat and a bully, he held others at impossible standards, he exuded pretentiousness. But Arthur was also the best man Merlin had ever known. He pushed himself harder than he ever expected of others, he cared about Camelot to a fault; he was meant to be king and Merlin was meant to help him get there.
Arthur shifted slightly, murmuring nonsense. Merlin's brow furrowed and he walked over to place bony fingers against Arthur's cheek. The prince had caught a nasty cold, and it seemed his fever had raised again, his skin hot and dry. Merlin pushed Arthur's bangs back tenderly and picked a cloth strip from the water bowl, laying it on Arthur's forehead.
"Merlin?" Arthur spoke without opening his eyes. Merlin jumped, unaware Arthur was awake.
"Yes sire?"
"Give the knights my apologies. I will not be training today."
Merlin rolled his eyes, glad the prince couldn't see him. "Of course, sire. Although I'm fairly certain they'll understand, you being ill and all."
"I'm not ill, I am simply fatigued."
"Right. Fatigued." Merlin made his way to the door. "I'll let them know. Did you want me to fetch lunch, or would you prefer to sleep undisturbed?"
There was no answer. He waited, and then began to leave, assuming Arthur had fallen back asleep.
"Merlin, may I ask your opinion of something?"
Merlin stopped at Arthur's voice, shut the door, and returned to the room.
"Only if you promise not to mock it as usual." He replied. The comment was glib but it mostly was punctuated with confusion. Arthur was not one to ask permission.
"Do you think me much like my father?"
Merlin's tongue darted out to wet his lips. He was silent, trying to understand what Arthur wanted to hear.
"I suppose, you both have Camelot's best intentions in mind."
"You believe so?"
Merlin stepped closer to the bed. "Yes, although I also believe your rule will differ largely from that of the King. He leads with a firmer hand."
Arthur sighed. "Yes. Yes, as I thought. That is all Merlin, you may go."
Merlin didn't move. "Not that different would be bad, sire. It would merely be…well, for lack of a better word, t'would merely be different."
Arthur did not respond.
"Firmer is not necessarily, well, that is, stronger is not always better." Merlin tripped over his words. He expected an instant rebuke from Arthur, who was normally quick to defend the King.
"I worry I will not be what this kingdom needs. It is falling apart, Merlin, and I do not know how to put it back together."
Merlin hesitantly places his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You will do what needs to be done."
Arthur coughed softly. "And if I do not know what that is?"
Merlin moved his hand to Arthur's hair, realizing it was unlikely the prince would recall this conversation after a few hours. "You will."
"But if I don't?" Arthur's voice rasped from the cold, but there was an undisguised somberness that Merlin cringed at.
"Then I will be here to tell you."
Arthur's lips quirked. "And how will you know?"
Merlin shrugged. "I suppose we will have to figure it out together, sire." He allowed himself another moment with his hand resting atop Arthur's head, his thumb brushing over Arthur's bangs. "But you should sleep. I will be back with your meal after I speak to the knights."
Arthur nodded against his pillow. Merlin stayed to watch Arthur's eyes flutter shut, and then left to do his duties.