"I don't know what to do, Guinevere." Arthur pulled at his hair as he paced the length of the room for the fifteenth time since arriving back in their chambers.
"Well you can start by helping me with my dress." The queen turned and gestured at the ties she couldn't quite reach on her own.
"This really isn't the time for-"
"Arthur. It's best to keep this knowledge to the smallest number of people for now, is it not? Then I will be the one to go and assist Gaius - you know I have experience – and I can hardly do that in one of these gowns."
Blushing at his misinterpretation, Arthur tugged at the lacing until the fine velvet was loose enough for Guinevere to step out of, watching as she pulled one of her old homespun dresses from the back of her wardrobe. He'd insisted she didn't need to keep any of the rough clothes from her simpler days, but it seems she hadn't agreed. Just as well; he didn't like it, but this seemed like the best approach for the time being.
"Be careful," he helped settle her bodice in place and kissed her neck. "Don't hesitate to call the guards if he becomes violent."
Guinevere spun around and kissed him in return.
"I'll be cautious."
Arthur nodded, resting his forehead against hers for a moment before letting her go to the infirmary.
He had some guards to question.
Arthur scowled into his goblet, both the wine and the dinner it accompanied lay untouched.
Despite scaring the wits out of several guards he was no closer to discovering the reason for Merlin's condition. All of them swore Merlin had been provided three meals a day, though one admitted that some of the food was often returned along with the dishes.
"This is clearly the result of many weeks of overwork and deprivation – possibly longer."
Wine sloshed onto his hand as he slammed the goblet onto the table, not that he noticed – even when George started sopping up the mess.
He must have been running himself into the ground for several days. He certainly hasn't been eating enough, and he's been using entirely too much-"
Arthur growled, frightening George in the act of replenishing the lost wine. He'd been asking around and everything he'd heard confirmed that Merlin had been kept running day and night, covering Gaius' duties as well as the chores Arthur doled out.
How had he not noticed that his best friend was fading away right in front of his eyes?
Except he had noticed. The missed banter on patrol, the efficient obedience... and when was the last time he'd seen Merlin smile? He'd made a small attempt at talking about it, teasing Merlin about how serious he'd been lately, but the servant had dismissed the discussion with a few harsh words that left Arthur more certain than ever that something was wrong – and even less willing to ask about it again. Why had he been such a coward?
He pushed his chair back from the table and was about to dismiss George for the evening when he realized the servant had already gone – probably sent away by Guinevere, who was now watching him with a sheen of tears in her eyes.
"Guinevere?"
"What happened to him, Arthur?"
He didn't know if she was asking about Gaius or Merlin, but either way the answer was the same.
"I've no idea, but we're going to find out."