So, yeah. I'm not dead. I re-wrote this chapter about twelve times before I decided it's just going to have to get posted.

Also, if anyone reads any of my other stories, if I could get a few recommendations in fandom-related reading, that would be awesome. I could use something to get back in the respective mindsets.

Chapter 3

Beneath Arthur's palm, Merlin jolted, his once-still heart suddenly thudding once, twice.

Arthur jerked upright, pressing harder against Merlin's chest until he noticed that extra pressure made his manservant's (friend's) breathing that much shallower, "Gaius!"

Gaius made a strange sound as he fell to his knees beside Arthur, half relief and half worry. "Help me prop his back; he's still fighting to breathe."

Together, they rearranged Merlin until he was almost sitting, his head slightly back to open his airways, and his eyes fluttered open. Sluggishly, he turned his head, searching.

"'rthur?" he murmured.

Arthur laughed, weak with relief as he sank back to his knees beside the bed, "I'm right here, Merlin."

"Safe?" Merlin half-asked, "No more dark?"

Arthur almost paused, but set the strange question aside to ponder later, "Yes," he assured. "You'll get better, now."

Merlin coughed weakly, eyes sliding shut again, "Y'r safe," he mumbled before promptly dropping back into fitful sleep.

Arthur blinked, then forced himself to stand, shaking his head. He should have expected that, considering the idiot had willfully drunk poison for him. Of course Merlin was wondering about Arthur and not himself.

The Prince turned his attention to the physician, "I'll come back later, Gaius, but I need to see my father."

Gaius nodded, sporting the same look of relieved exhaustion that Arthur was certain he himself wore. "Of course, sire. I'm not going anywhere."

xxxx

"Arthur, are you hurt?"

Arthur blinked at the nearness of his father when he turned towards the throne room, the King having been stepping even with the doorway even as Arthur rounded the corner. "No, father," he assured. Upon catching sight of Uther's expression, he elaborated, "The sorceress did not even try to do any direct harm. She said it wasn't my 'destiny' to die by her hand."

Uther frowned, but nodded his acceptance of the explanation, eyeing his son for several moments. "The boy?"

"Alive," Arthur reported, surprised at the show of almost-concern. "He stopped breathing for several seconds, but Gaius managed to save him." It was a lie, mostly by omission, but he did not want his father to suspect sorcery.

Especially because Arthur wasn't entirely sure it wasn't.

"And he will recover?" Uther pressed.

Not quite sure what to make of the sudden interest in Merlin's health, Arthur hesitated, then sighed. "He is still very weak, and nearly died from the poison. I did not ask Gaius specifics, but he said that we must wait."

Uther nodded, "I see. You should get some rest, Arthur."

Arthur gave a short half-bow at the clear dismissal and turned, only to pause as his father called after him.

"As I know you intend to return to Gaius' chambers… at least clean up and eat first."

Arthur huffed under his breath, caught but apparently (and strangely) not in trouble. "Yes, father."

xxxx

"Arthur, thank goodness," Gaius' relief was palpable as Arthur let himself back into the physician's chambers, carrying a covered tray that he had gotten from the kitchens. "Merlin's delirious."

Arthur almost dropped the tray, but seeing that Gaius—while obviously worried—was not emanating the kind of sharp distress he had been when Arthur had first returned, he took the few seconds required to slide it onto the table as the physician quickly cleared a several bottles aside.

Still, he had to ask, "Delirious?"

Giaus sighed, "While his fever is not what it was, it is still quite high. When he sleeps, his dreams are troubled, and when he opens his eyes, the dreams do not end. He was convinced you were in great danger while you were gone, and keeps wanting to be sure you are safe."

Arthur approached the bed where Merlin was sleeping, a dampened cloth on his brow and covers pulled back as far as they could be without causing him to shiver in an attempt to control his fever.

He almost jumped when Merlin jerked awake, eyes wide and unfocused while he turned his head restlessly. "'rthur?"

"I'm here, you idiot," Arthur assured, dropping to one knee so he was more even with his manservant's eye-level.

The effect was immediate and rather startling; Merlin went almost bonelessly limp against the pillows supporting him, a small smile flickering across his face as his eyes searched out Arthur's face. "Safe," he breathed, tongue fumbling over the word, "Y'u… r'lly safe?"

Arthur wanted to get angry, to rage over the other boy's complete disregard for himself, but that would not settle the lingering question in eyes bright with fever. Would not get Merlin to rest.

"I'm fine, Merlin. Go to sleep. You need to get better."

And he felt so frustrated in that moment as Merlin smiled again, weak and tired and happy, so unconcerned with anything but Arthur himself. And if Merlin hadn't done as he was told (for once), Arthur would probably have done something that would have made the entire situation worse.

Because Arthur wanted Merlin to care about himself, wanted Merlin to see himself as worth something, because he was. But Merlin couldn't—or wouldn't—see that.

He glanced up as he felt Gaius' weathered hand on his shoulder, only then realizing his right hand had curled into a fist while his left clamped tightly on edge of the bed. He stood, forcing himself to calm though he knew Gaius wouldn't judge him for it. "Has he been like this the whole time?"

Gaius shook his head, "It was worse while you were gone. He kept speaking of you and being unable to see. I feared he wouldn't live to see you return."

Arthur tensed, remembering Merlin's question on seeing Arthur after his heart had restarted. 'No more dark?'

"Gaius, what did he say while I was gone?"

Apparently noting the urgency, Gaius started to look a little nervous, "Not much, sire."

Redirecting? Why would Gaius… unless…

Arthur went to the door, forced the never-used deadbolt to turn, and moved back over to the physician.

"I need to know, Gaius," he stated quietly, "Did Merlin… do anything while I was gone?"

"Sire," Gaius matched his tone, but clearly was reluctant to answer as he hesitated.

"Perhaps I should be more specific," Arthur said slowly, knowing Gaius looked on Merlin as his own. "A sorceress left me alone, hanging on a cliff, deep underground and in complete darkness after using magic to convince the knights that I fallen. I would have died, Gaius," Arthur looked over at the bed for a long moment, "But for a magical light that someone sent to guide me to safety. It tried to get me to leave the flower and somehow reminded me of Merlin. I cannot tell my father of this, of course, because he would have Merlin killed whether he had anything to do with it or not. But I need to know… can Merlin use magic? Was it he who saved me?"

Gaius blinked, "Is that what he was doing?"

Arthur breathed out, "So it was him?"

"Sire, please, don't tell your father. Banish him, but please, don't let him face the fire."

Arthur blanched at hearing that, the image of Merlin burning flashing through his mind. "Gaius, I would never—he saved me. I know it's treason, but I couldn't—not Merlin."

The disbelieving hope on Gaius' face stung, but it was also understandable. Arthur had always been taught to be his father's son. That he was rejecting those teachings—endangering his birthright if not his life—for the sake of someone he had met only weeks before (a servant, no less) was… insane.

And he couldn't even think of doing otherwise.

xxxx

By the next morning, Merlin's fever had broken and he was… not well, exactly, but coherent when awake—though the 'awake' times tended to be short. Gaius assured Arthur that the in-and-out nature of Merlin's consciousness was only to be expected and explained the cause as a combination of not-yet-healed damage from the poison and sheer exhaustion.

"I can understand that he would not heal from that kind of poisoning immediately," Arthur sighed, because it did make sense. A wound didn't vanish just because a dagger was removed, after all, and why would poison be so different? "But why would he be exhausted?"

"Sire, an already powerful poison had been enhanced by magic to the degree that it's almost a miracle he lasted long enough for you to return with the antidote. If not for his own innate abilities, he probably would have died before you even left the city. His own power was trying to stop the spell on the poison—and then he cast a long-range scrying combined with both a light spell and a guidance spell. Considering the majority of his power was tied up with trying to hold off the poison, he likely tapped directly into his own life-force to do it."

That… sounded bad. Very bad. "What does that mean?"

"Imagine training until you pulled a muscle in your sword-arm… and then fighting for your life. It hurts but, ultimately, it will heal, if not for a great deal longer than if you had rested. The difference is, unlike a badly strained muscle, it will not cost limb mobility but is a more full-body effect. Not to mention it could have killed him directly."

Arthur didn't—quite—flinch. He had already known Merlin could easily have died. He had already known Merlin would willingly and willfully die for him. The combined concept had already been inflicted on him.

The knowledge still… not hurt, not really. But it was an overwhelming thing, humbling and infuriating in turns. The part that hurt, the part that his mind shied away from, was the concept of losing Merlin.

Arthur dropped down onto a rickety chair, rubbing both hands over his face and forcibly shoving that thought aside until he could have a thorough talk with the boy in question. "But he'll be all right?"

Gaius smiled a bit, "I'd rather he didn't return to work for another two weeks, just to be safe, but he should recover soon enough."