Chapter 6 : Fevers
Arthur stirred to escape the ache in his shoulder, to no avail. He was thirsty and too feeble to open his eyes. One charitable hand helped his head up and water came to his lips like a blessing. One sip was enough to satisfy his needs. Try to squeeze this hand in a thank-you turned its brush into a smile he could feel in the feather touch. The caress lasted until he was nestled into the pillows again. He wished it didn't stop but his protest turned into a moan.
"Shush now… Rest."
The caress of Irish springs and evergreens rolled slightly in the whispered order. He fell back into slumber.
The red velvet clock slipped aside, revealing the slender body clasped in breech and a white tunic underneath. His tunic. The one she had boldly picked up in his wardrobe because, she claimed, he had ruined the one while teaching her that stupid new sparing move. The tunic was strained with red, the color spreading too fast. "Arthur… I nearly wait…"
The young man jerked awake. His forehead burned with fever. His throat felt so dried he knew even emptying a river would not stench the thirst. His shoulder hurt like hell. The echo of muffled voices travelled toward him.
"The prince is weakening Sire…"
"You said he was safe! You told us…"
Arthur didn't hear the rest of his father's rant. The sounds were too far away, listening asked too much out of him. His body scorched as if he were tied up by a fire. Breathing was strenuous. A fresh cloth pressed to his lips. He strained up instinctively to keep the contact. Air on his damp skin had him shivered. Arthur fell back in the sheets, unable to resist the gentle push on his chest.
Crimson floated in the corridor before darkness swallowed it again. What was she doing here? He hurried after the feminine silhouette. Silver flashed in the dark…
Arthur shook so hard his heart threatened to scatter. His body was tensed like a crossbow. He didn't remember he had ever felt so cold…
"The bed is done Gaius."
"All right. Help me take him out of this ice Merlin…"
"Huh… My Lady…"
In his daze, the voices danced around, disembodied.
"Oh, for God' sake! I'm not looking!"
Two pair of hands grabbed him and pulled. A torrent resounded around him as the chill lost his grip on his body. Blackness invaded his head, promising sleep would make it better. He tried to resist. The pressure on his chest increased. Death lurked in his sleep. Arthur fought. He had promised…
"…Ga…"
"Shush Arthur…"
Warmth replaced cold on his skin. He calmed down, craving for more of the touch, the voice. The world was only cold and hurt. The voice brought comfort. Hope. He wanted to hear that voice chant his name again. Arthur… Arthur… Arthur… Caresses came with the voice soothing the shivers tenderly. His tortured body relaxed slowly, cradled by hushes and murmurs. His head rested on the pillow. He curled into a ball, clutching the blissful hand tight into his.
"Lady Morgana?"
"It's all right, Merlin. I'll stay. I cannot sleep anyway."
Cool fingers brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. Reassured, Arthur let himself drift off.
"Merlin." The servant nodded, beaming like an idiot. Arthur sighed in relief then frowned "Where's Morgana?"
The goofy smile grew at the question. Arthur lied back cautiously, unable to stay upright. The pain in his shoulder was agony. Merlin fussed with soil clothes and phials. The constant jitters increased the nasty pulse in his head to a full-scaled drum. Arthur swallowed.
"Where is Morgana? She was here earlier. I… I know she was."
It had been her touch, and her voice… He really wished the servant stopped grinning like that. He made him feel like a fool.
"We convinced the Lady Morgana to take some rest. Gaius gave her a sleeping draught."
Arthur grunted, trying to push up again. Merlin patted the cushions behind him. The soft slaps made him want to put the servant in the stocks for adding to his misery.
"As if they were effective. What we?"
"Gwen and I."
Gwen. Again. Arthur fell back on the pillows and regretted the abrupt move instantly.
"I need to talk to her."
Merlin looked befuddled.
"Gwen? Why?"
Arthur groaned loudly.
"Not Gwen, Merlin, Morgana. I've seen enough of Guinevere for a lifetime."
"Oh." Merlin frowned. "Well that's harsh. She was worried about you."
He didn't doubt about that. Her worries had started it all.
"Yeah, well..." He was about to excuse himself, and remembered in time this Arthur didn't apologize to anyone, but his father. It seemed he was always apologizing to his father. Merlin was dancing from one foot to another, waiting and visibly ill at ease. At least the man had lost that idiotic smile.
"I want to thank Morgana for her care."
"Oh. Okay."
Arthur ground his teeth when Merlin slammed the door behind him, backing on the pillows with a heavy sigh. He couldn't bear it any longer. Not alone.
Morgana hesitated at the door. When Merlin had literary burst into her chambers to say Arthur was awake, she nearly cried in relief. Her first reflex had been to jump from her bed to go and assess his wellbeing by herself. And then, right after Merlin blushed furiously and Gwen reminded her softly she was in her nightdress, suddenly she realized. What if Arthur remembered that she had warned him not to go after that beast? That he would die if he did? Could she pretend it was just a nightmare, now the prince had miraculously escaped a tragic faith?
Her hand trembled on the knob as she stood there, unable to enter, and even less able to turn tail and flee. The door opened. Morgana jumped back with a whimper. Uther crooked an eyebrow. "Morgana."
Her heart shrunk in her chest. He knew. He knew she flirted with magic. He knew she was a seer, that her dreams were prophetic. The pale eyes roamed over the peacock blue silk of her dress, merciless. The king flinched. Oh God…
The beautiful lady pinched her mouth firmly shut to prevent the terror rising inside her to come out and curtsied, stepping away until her back hit the wall behind her. She stayed there, shivering. The cold stone bit through the thin material of her dress. The cold inside her was even worse.
Uther gazed away. He was looking for guards to arrest her. She was to be jailed, sentenced to death without a hearing, like countless others. It didn't matter to Uther that she was his ward. It only made things worse. He would call her a snake in his breast, a traitor, a witch… Pride jerked up. She wouldn't plead for mercy. She didn't ask for her gift. She resented it. She didn't want the horrors that plagued her dreams every night, the death, the slaughter, and Arthur, always Arthur wounded or dead. Morgana lifted her head up, ready to face her persecutor.
"Uther..."
"Arthur is waiting for you."
And just like that, the king nodded and walked away. Morgana felt her knees weakened and pressed harder to the wall to stay upright. She shook so hard she feared she was to fall nonetheless.
She chanced a look through the door Uther had left open.
Arthur was propped up against his pillows. His handsome face still held the stigmata of illness, too wan for her taste. His golden hair spiked in every possible direction as he bossed someone around, probably Merlin. Breathing hard to calm herself, she strained an ear to listen.
"Merlin put that shirt down, I'm not changing, this is ridiculous."
"You have to look nice, you're receiving for diner."
"I'm not receiving, I'm having dinner with Morgana."
"Yes, exactly."
Merlin probably did something she couldn't see, for Arthur groaned.
"What's got into you? Oh fine! Give me the damned thing."
"Yes Sire."
"And stop beaming like that. God, you're useless. Ow…"
The grunt unfroze her from her position. Morgana pushed the door to walk directly to the bed, ignoring Merlin's goofy smile and Arthur's startled look.
"Arthur, you're going to tear this poor shirt apart if you go on pulling at it like this. Quiet now…"
Her fingers tingled when she brushed his hot skin helping him to put the shirt on. Morgana ignored the feeling to concentrate on arranging the garment on his shoulders awkwardly. Her hip bumped into his side. Arthur groused.
"Are you done mothering me? I can dress myself you know…"
The husk in his voice did nothing to appease the butterflies dancing in her belly. She just hoped her cheeks hadn't reddened to the same shade as Arthur's. By the heat on her face, she doubted it.
Morgana inhaled carefully before she retreated to a safer place than his bed. Her legs didn't feel that strong so she took refuge into the chair she had adopted for the last few days.
"Now you are presentable for dinner."
Arthur reopened his eyes to stare at her. His gaze said 'thank you', though his mouth was not.
"Eavesdropping, were we?"
Warmth crept up her throat again. Some days, she just hated her skin…
"No need, when you are bawling like you were."
Arthur scoffed. Morgana smiled, satisfied with her little victory, and winked at Merlin who was beaming from ear to ear.
"Merlin, you can serve dinner now. Thank you."