"Where IS HE?!"
The young king paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. He wasn't a physician. He didn't know what to do. Merlin had to get better. He had to! Though he'd never admit it aloud, he actually looked forward to their playful banter, the lighthearted insults thrown back and forth with a fluidity of the mind not commonly found in everyday people. Their verbal sparring gave him an outlet that allowed him to dispose of the everyday stress that came with being the leader of an entire kingdom. Without his cheeky manservant, he would have fallen apart years ago.
Desperately trying to remember how he had been told to handle a situation like this, how to reanimate the corpse-like figure, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed. His hand brushed Merlin's unruly hair away from his face. Resting his palm against the boy's bloodless cheek, he silently pleaded for those azure eyes to open, to show him that the soft breaths he was taking weren't just false hopes. Minutes passed like hours, but only one thing was certain: It felt like all he was touching was a block of ice.
Sorrow seeped through him as he pulled his hand away, only to stop short as he noticed something new.
Half of Merlin's face held a small amount of color.
The half that he had touched.
That was when he remembered.
Slipping free of his top, Arthur crawled onto the bed. Hovering over the unconscious form, he allowed only a second of doubt to invade his determined mind before lifting his manservant and pressing him to his chest. The chill left him breathless.
Worried that there was not enough heat being pressed into the boy, the king adjusted the lifeless body so that Merlin's ankles and arms were loosely hooked around his midsection. He then settled the black-haired servant's head into the crook of his neck. Sliding backwards, Arthur propped himself up against the backboard of his bed.
Grabbing the temporarily discarded quilts, he wrapped both himself and Merlin as best he could, without breaking their contact, in the blankets.
Just when he was about to settle in to wait, he felt the body on top of him shift.
Soft whispers reached his ears. Too bewildered to move, the king listened.
"Don't …dragon…king…coin…ties… lake…pain…fall… kill…peace…time… truth…"
Rubbing soothing circles on the small of Merlin's back, Arthur was relieved when, after minutes far too copious to count, the delirium ceased, but tensed when the boy promptly fell back out of consciousness. 'The speaking must have been a good sign… right?' As if in answer, shivers of great magnitude began to rack the smaller man's frame. optimism blossomed in the king's breast.
All he had to do now, all he could do, was keep Merlin warm until the arrival of the elusive Gaius.
