Hello, everyone! I'm back with a new chapter of Taking Care of Merlin! Thank you so much for all of the awesome support - it really means a lot. :)
This was requested by elisabeth49 - I hope this chapter came out as well as you hoped, but just in case, I'm sorry if you were disappointed - I always try really hard to do these requests as well as I can.
Now, with that being said - read on and enjoy!
Plot: Arthur thought that Merlin looked a bit peaky in the morning – unfortunately, he didn't say anything about it until Merlin threw up all over his boots in front of the council.
"Of Messy Boots and Unnecessary Actions"
The signs that Merlin wasn't feeling his best were all there. The paleness, the thin layer of sweat over his brow, the flush in his cheeks, the brightness of his eyes – all of those things should have sent a red flag for Arthur Pendragon.
So, why didn't he notice the red flag?
It was probably because he was so goddamn busy – the second he woke, Arthur was forced to go straight into training new knights and council meetings and patrols. His mind was reeling when Merlin told him his schedule, and, instead of thinking about how ill his manservant looked, he was thinking about how he was going to manage his time.
Instead of asking Merlin how he was, Arthur told the younger man to muck out the horses' stables while he was gone on a patrol.
Instead of noticing how Merlin looked more and more tired, Arthur yelled at him for sleeping on the job.
By the time Arthur went to the council meeting, he was severely annoyed with Merlin – the manservant could be such an idiot, sometimes.
Now, Arthur was listening to nearby sightings of Saxons crossing the border. He frowned at the thought. It was troubling, really – they were getting bolder as each and every day passed. Rumors had also spread to Camelot that the Saxons were looking for something – but what?
"Arthur."
The prince turned around to look at Merlin, who was standing by one of the pillars in the room. His face was blank, but Merlin's eyes were wide and pained.
"What?" Arthur whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"I need to leave. Now."
Arthur sighed and rubbed his brow. "And why is that?" He hissed, darting a glance over his shoulder at the council. Thankfully, they were too involved in the debate about the Saxons to pay any attention to the prince.
Merlin shook his head. "Can't tell you now…just…please?" He asked pleadingly.
Arthur blinked at the desperation in Merlin's voice. He gave his manservant a good, hard stare and slowly, small details about Merlin jumped out at him. For one, Merlin was sweating. Arthur watched as a small bead of sweat trailed down his forehead and disappeared from sight along Merlin's neck.
Merlin's face was also pale – not that it wasn't pale before, but Arthur could have sworn that the younger man's face wasn't quite as white as it was now. There was a strange, pink flush in Merlin's cheeks and his eyes were much too bright to be considered healthy.
The prince was about to reply when, too late, Merlin had lunged forward and vomited right onto Arthur's boots.
The entire council went silent and the back of Arthur's neck burned in embarrassment as they turned around to look at him.
Letting out a small breath, Arthur slowly shifted out of the way, (making disgusting, squelching sounds in the process,) and rubbed a hand against Merlin's back in comforting, relaxing circles. The younger man coughed out the rest of the vomit and leaned against the pillar, his face paler than ever.
"I'm sorry," Merlin gasped, tears appearing in his eyes. "A'thur, I didn't –"
"It's fine, Merlin," Arthur replied quietly, not looking up to face the council. "Come on, let's get you back to Gaius."
"Gaius…isn't here." Merlin whispered, wiping his sleeve over his mouth. "He…had to visit the villages."
Dammit, Arthur thought to himself, but shook his head. "No, matter," he replied. "We'll just see what we can do while he's gone."
He finally looked back at the council and gave them a small nod. "I'll escort my manservant back to his chambers – he needs help."
The council didn't say anything. Instead, they all turned to Arthur's father, Uther, who stared at the prince with an incredulous, almost annoyed look.
"That is not your job right now, Arthur," the king said sternly. "Someone else can do that."
Arthur shook his head slowly. "It'll only take a few minutes," he replied calmly. "I'll be back."
Without waiting for his father to argue back, Arthur led Merlin out of the room. He kept one hand on the younger man's back in case he would get sick again and focused on taking off his boots with his other hand.
Merlin watched Arthur warily and mumbled, "I'm sorry."
Arthur managed to roll his eyes as he placed his boots against the wall. "No matter," he said lightly. "You'll be the one polishing and cleaning them afterwards."
Merlin gave the prince a weak, halfhearted smile and the two set off into the hall. The floor was cold underneath Arthur's floor, but he didn't really care at the moment – he needed to get Merlin back into his bedroom where he can rest.
"Why didn't you say anything earlier, Merlin?" Arthur asked quietly as they made a turn around a corner. "If you truly didn't feel well, you could have just told me."
"You were busy," Merlin replied breathlessly. "And there were more important things for you to do."
The prince felt guilt stab into his heart. He regretted yelling at Merlin and forcing him to muck out the stables. Merlin had Arthur's best interests in heart, even if he could act like a moron.
Arthur swallowed, wondering how to respond to Merlin. He walked on a couple more steps before replying, "It doesn't matter – you could have told me, anyways."
The manservant let out a weak laugh in response. Arthur managed a small grin and finally reaching the door to Gaius' chambers, stopped walking. He opened the door quickly and the two young men headed inside.
"Come on, then," Arthur said quietly, leading Merlin up to the small bedroom in the back. He set him down in the bed and forced him to lie down.
"I'll be right back," Arthur said, running out of the room. He looked around the physician's work area – there ought to be a bucket or a basin here, somewhere, yes?
Arthur sighed in frustration and peered underneath the tables for anything that might catch the contents of Merlin's stomach if he was to vomit again.
Bucket…bucket, Arthur thought to himself, looking frantically around the room. He shifted some books around the tables and opened several cabinets to continue his search. Bucket…bucket – aha!
Arthur pulled out a large, wooden bucket from the corner of the room. Within a second, he was back at Merlin's bedside, dropping the bucket on top of the nightstand.
"What's that for?" Merlin mumbled, opening a bleary eye.
"Just in case you decide to throw up again," Arthur replied, sitting down. "I can't have you getting sick all over the floor, now, can I? It'd be awful."
Merlin chuckled feebly before sinking back underneath the covers of the bed. "Thank you." He whispered hoarsely. "You didn't have to help, you know."
"Yes, I did."
Those words were out of Arthur's mouth before he could even think it over. He blinked and looked down at Merlin, who was staring up at him curiously.
"Why?" He asked.
Arthur cleared his throat and clasped his hands on top of his lap. "You're my manservant, Merlin," he replied slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the wooden planks of the floor. "And…"
"And?"
Arthur cleared his throat again, only this time, it was much louder. "And a friend."
When the prince looked back up, Merlin was staring at him with the most peculiar expression. A small smile was playing at his lips, and though his cheeks were flushed, anyways, Arthur thought that he saw a bit more color return to his face.
"Oh." Merlin mumbled, looking down at the covers and sat up with a start. "Arthur, you still have the council meeting!"
Arthur felt his heart sink for a second. He had forgotten about it completely!
Then, he looked back at Merlin – at his position in the bed, at his weak form, at his pale face – and instead shrugged. "Missing one meeting isn't the end of the world," Arthur said casually. "Besides, I'll have many more to attend to and I'll bet that it'll be about the same thing. Now, you, Merlin," he gently closed his hands around Merlin's shoulders, "need to get some rest."
Merlin must have been tired, for he didn't struggle against Arthur's grip. He slowly sank back into the bed and with eyes closed, he mumbled, "You don't need to skip the meeting…"
"We're not going to have this conversation again, Merlin – that's an order," Arthur replied carelessly, pressing a hand against Merlin's brow. Stunned, Arthur quickly drew back the hand.
The younger man's forehead was burning up and Arthur hadn't done anything about it before!
Stupid, Arthur thought to himself, standing up. He ventured back into Gaius' work area to find a cloth and a pail of water or something else of the sort.
After ten, rather long minutes, Arthur finally managed to find the items. He headed back up the stairs to Merlin's bedroom and sat himself down next to him.
Dunking a towel into the water, Arthur looked over at Merlin. The manservant's eyes had reopened and they were staring right back at Arthur.
"I thought I told you to get some rest," Arthur said crossly, taking the towel out of the pail and pressing it against Merlin's forehead.
"I am." Merlin replied.
"No, you're not – you're staring. That doesn't count as resting," Arthur argued.
"It's not like staring is really doing anything!"
"But is it going to help you get better?"
"…but I'm still not doing anything!"
Arthur rolled his eyes and said, "Stop being stubborn and just sleep!"
Merlin sighed and replied, "Fine, fine – I will. See?" To prove his point, he settled back into his bed and closed his eyes.
Arthur smirked and readjusted the towel on Merlin's forehead before resting his head on a hand. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but Arthur had realized that most of the towels on Merlin's forehead had been used up. He took one of the older towels and started re-soaking them when Merlin suddenly leaned over the bed and vomited.
Arthur quickly shoved the bucket underneath Merlin's chin and rubbed the younger man's back soothingly as he coughed up the rest of the throw up. Merlin made small, gasping sounds and grabbed Arthur's shoulder with a shaky, weak hand.
"Art'ur…" Merlin whimpered, picking his head up from the bucket. "Art'ur, it hurts."
The prince slowly placed the bucket back down on the floor and took a towel from the nightstand. He dabbed away any remaining vomit that might have gotten on Merlin's face and patted his back with the other hand.
"Your fever's almost gone down, Merlin," Arthur replied soothingly. "If you're throwing up, it means your body is getting rid of it. You'll be back to normal in no time."
"How would you know?" Merlin asked tiredly.
Arthur smirked. "I knew Gaius longer than you have, Merlin," he replied lightly and placed the towel in the small, growing pile on the nightstand. "Now, go back to sleep."
Merlin sighed and pressed his face against the pillow. "Thank you, Arthur," he mumbled, and though the manservant's words came out a bit muffled, Arthur heard it perfectly.
"You're welcome, Merlin," the prince replied with a smile, patting Merlin's back.
A/N: If anyone's wondering, I think this scene might take place in either season two or mid-season three. I think. I don't really know - I also brought the Saxons thingie out of nowhere. I just didn't know what the council might be talking about, so...if I got the Saxons tidbit wrong, please try to ignore it - I was never good at writing about that sort of stuff with war and battles and etc. *winces* Same thing goes for fight scenes and politics. It's just not my division. (If any of you guys got that reference, you're awesome. Well, actually, you're awesome either way - being in the Merlin fandom alone makes you awesome. Oh, dear, I'm rambling again.)
Anyways, next chapter goes to natcel! If any of you guys want to see something else, please feel free to drop it in a review. :) (I will only accept requests through reviews - yes, I know that's mean of me, but...*grins sheepishly* reviews are good!)
With that being said, please review, give constructive criticism (if you have any) and please don't flame! Flamers will be tossed down to...mean Mordred! Not that nice, sweet, lovable Mordred, but the bad one!
