AN: I am so ready for Thanksgiving break. I love college, but it's exhausting.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Merlin. It would be much easier to pay for college.
Merlin was a worrier. He really couldn't help it. He worried about Gaius, who was working too hard for his old age. He worried about Gwen, having to take care of herself. He worried about Gwaine, who always managed to get himself into trouble. He worried about Morgana, first with her struggles to deal with magic, then with the knowledge that she was betraying Camelot, and now with the fact that she was still out there somewhere, waiting to kill Arthur.
Most of all, he worried about Arthur. Arthur, who really was a fantastic warrior, but that didn't make him as invincible as the newly crowned king liked to think it did. Arthur, who would always sacrifice himself before allowing anything to happen to anyone he cared about - which was pretty much anyone in the entire kingdom.
And he always had to do it alone! Why Arthur insisted on sneaking off to sacrifice himself at every available opportunity was a mystery to Merlin.
He pointedly ignored the voice that labeled itself 'common sense' and tried to tell him that he did the exact same thing. That wasn't the point. He had magic. Arthur had a sword and a lack of observational skills. So Merlin worried. Constantly.
So, after Arthur had disappeared without Merlin's knowledge and tried to get himself killed again, Merlin decided he had very much had enough of that.
It took a little longer than usual for Merlin to find the spell he was looking for since he didn't want Gaius to find out what he was doing. The old physician probably wouldn't approve of the violation of the king's privacy, no matter that it was for Arthur's own good.
Merlin found it at last, and quietly whispered the foreign words at the king one night while he slept. He felt his eyes flash gold and he was almost immediately assured that the enchantment had worked.
He went to his own room and fell asleep, worrying considerably less than usual.
Arthur noticed that Merlin was suddenly appearing everywhere, but couldn't come up with any rational explanation beyond that it was Merlin, and if he wasn't pestering Arthur he seemed to think he wasn't doing his job properly.
Nobody was really complaining though - except, maybe, for Arthur. Everyone else appreciated that the king's servant could always find the king, regardless of where he'd disappeared off to. Often made things considerably more simple.
It became a game of balance between the king and the servant. Merlin knew that sometimes Arthur needed some time alone and some space to breath, and so long as he knew where he was and that he was alright, Merlin was more than happy to let him have it. The trick was knowing when the king wanted to be left alone, knowing when he thought he wanted to be alone but really wanted someone to talk to, and when Arthur was just being a prat and seeing how long it would take Merlin to find him.
Merlin always seemed to know the answer. He wasn't sure exactly how he knew, but he only rarely got it wrong. Arthur never thanked him - at least, not out loud. Merlin saw the thanks in the softening of his eyes, quirks of smiles around the corners of his mouth.
Arthur wasn't the type to voice feelings, but he didn't need to. Not to Merlin. Merlin would call him out if he was being an idiot and did need to voice what he was thinking, but that usually only applied when Arthur needed to talk to one of the knights, or to Gwen. Not everyone knew Arthur as well as Merlin did.
Arthur liked to pretend that he wished Merlin would just back off and leave him alone, but he knew - as little as he liked to admit it - that he needed the other man's company. There were days when the pressure of ruling a kingdom was suffocating. Days when he wished he could just stay in bed all day and let someone else rule the kingdom. But there was no one else. Not really.
The weight of the world was back-breaking. He confided to Merlin one night that he was beginning to lose hope. His father had never seemed to feel this weight that Arthur was struggling under. Why couldn't he be the king his father had been?
Merlin had hesitated before responding, worried that he may be about to cross a line with Arthur. Finally, he asked a simple question. "Are you sure your father felt it?"
Arthur had looked up at his friend, confused. Merlin had sighed. "You worry more about your people than he ever did, Arthur. You know that."
Arthur had tried to deny it, but he'd known it was true. How many times had he and his father argued over what was best for the kingdom because he put more stock in the well-being of the common citizens than Uther did? Maybe the weight was his own.
Merlin had put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and told him it was a good thing. That fighting under a weight like that was how he could reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. He'd then forced Arthur into bed, stating that the king had drank too much that night and had an early morning meeting tomorrow.
Merlin had left, leaving Arthur lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where his manservant's flashes of wisdom came from. He felt like there was something about Merlin he should know, something that would explain everything, but he fell asleep before he could grasp it. The next morning the feeling was gone, but he remembered the conversation. He said nothing, but he smiled gratefully at Merlin over breakfast. Merlin smiled back and went back to his usual dorky self.
Merlin was always keeping an eye on Arthur, because he worried. He'd always be there for his friend. No matter what. It didn't matter if Arthur was aware of that or not. So long as Merlin always knew where Arthur was, he'd always manage to save him.