Greetings, loves! I'm truly sorry that I have no motivation to update ever. It's not fair to you all, who wait so patiently… but it can't be helped. All I can do is try harder to update with frequency!

Alright. I'm aiming for a really good chapter this time. The past few have been less than impressive. I'm going to spend some time and effort on this one—you guys are worth it!

Please review! :D

Insomnia and Exhaustion

The hunt is going swimmingly. Really, it's the best one Arthur has had in a very long time. For the first time in ages, the group is turning back because the horses can't carry more meat, rather than because Merlin has frightened away every living creature within a 10 kilometer radius.

In fact, he's hardly said a word through the whole trip. Arthur barely noticed, contented with conversation from Gwaine and Lancelot, that he has been lagging behind, not prattling on like he normally does.

Arthur stops and waits for him, and he jogs when he sees the Prince standing patiently staring at him. They walk together for a while, slowly, and Arthur notices that his servant's face is gleaming with a thin veil of sweat, and his breath comes in rapid puffs.

"Tired already, Merlin?"

He glares. Of course I'm tired, you prat. I've been on lookout for two nights in a row and haven't gotten a chance to sleep, he thinks, but says nothing. Instead he only nods. Reaching a grassy clearing in the forest, Arthur stops his horse.

"Well, here looks like as good a place as any to rest for the night. It's starting to get dark, so we'll light a fire and cook some dinner before going to sleep."

They stop, and Merlin begins to unpack the necessary supplies from the horses, but is not doing a very good job. He keeps stumbling. Arthur builds the fire while Lancelot prepares the meat to roast, and Gwaine relieves Merlin of his duties after a particularly heavy sleeping pack causes his knees to buckle and the bag to fall into the dirt.

"Why don't you rest a while, I've got the rest of this stuff," the knight offers.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asks.

"Absolutely. You look like you could fall asleep right here. I'll wake you up to eat."

"I really think I should be awake so I can help with-"

"Oh, just sleep, Merlin. After all, you must be able to stay awake through your half of guard duty tonight, right?" Arthur interrupts.

"My half?" he inquires, looking confused.

"Yes, you heard me. You don't look like you could stay up another full night, so I'll share the position. Just for tonight, of course."

"Oh, well, thank you, Arthur. That's very kind…" he says slowly.

"Don't get sentimental, Merlin. I simply wouldn't want to be killed in the night because someone couldn't keep from nodding off," he jokes, punching him in the arm lightly.

He lies down, facing away from the knights, and a silence falls over the clearing. The chirping of the birds slowly recedes into an eerie quiet, with only the occasional owl's call mixed with the constant song of crickets. Fireflies light at random, speckling the dimming forest with yellow glow that interrupts the darkness.

Lancelot has finished cooking the meal, and serves it into four bowls. Arthur takes that as the hint to wake his sleeping servant, and tiptoes over to him, trying not to make noise and startle him. Last time he did that, he remembers, he ended up with a sword dangerously close to his neck.

He reaches down to shake him lightly.

"Merlin-"

"I'm awake," is the answer I receive before my hand even makes contact with his arm. "I couldn't sleep."

"No? Why not?" He certainly looks tired enough.

"Just couldn't."

"I find that hard to believe. Something on your mind?"

He looks away without answering, and Arthur sighs before handing him a bowl of rabbit stew. After eating a few bites, he says he's full and turns back over to sleep once more. Ordinarily the Prince would argue, tell him to eat more, but Merlin looks like he could use the rest more than the food.

"Will you wake me in a few hours so I can keep watch?"

"I don't think that's necessary tonight; Gwaine, Lancelot, and I can handle it. I don't want you falling asleep on our journey home tomorrow. Because you're not riding on my horse with me if you can't stay on yours."

"Not that we would both fit."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not fat!"

"Of course not! Not yet."

"Merlin!"

"So, wake me in a few hours?"

"I already told you that it's not necessary."

"But I want you to."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I'll just have to stay up until then."

"Fine. You're impossible. Every other trip you complain about guard duty, and now I can't get you to skip it. You really are a riddle, Merlin."

"I trust you to wake me. Thank you, Sire."

Maybe five minutes later, Merlin's chest begins to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, signifying sleep.

"You're not really going to make him stay up half the night, are you Princess? I'll take his place," Gwaine whispers.

"Of course I'm not. What kind of person do you think I am?"

"A selfish-"

"Don't answer, Gwaine, I'm not above throwing one of my knights into the stocks."

He shuts his mouth, and the click of his teeth colliding is audible. Arthur smirks.

"No, I was never planning on waking him up. But he wouldn't sleep unless I promised. Why is he being so difficult?"

"Maybe he feels guilty," Lancelot chimes in, having overheard the conversation from where he was cleaning out the bowls. He takes a seat on a rock across from Gwaine and next to Arthur, forming a small, tight triangle around the fire.

"Guilty? Merlin? Of what?" Arthur asks incredulously.

"He carries more of a burden than you know, Sire. He feels very responsible for everything that happens to everyone. Every time a knight dies, or is injured, he blames himself."

"Really? Why… Why would he never tell me that?"

"The boy is complicated, my lord. He doesn't want to appear weak in front of you. Anyone really, but especially you."

Arthur scoffs. "Is that why he complains about the weight of my armor any time I have him carry something heavier than a shield?"

Why would he be afraid of weakness?

Maybe he doesn't trust me to protect him, Arthur thinks.

"Not physically weak, Sire, but… he knows that you rely on him."

"Hang on!"

"You know it's true. You trust him. He wants to be there for you. Wants your faith in him, so you know you can go to him for advice and support."

"So what does that have to do with why he won't sleep?"

"That, I'm not entirely sure. I know he gets insomnia after battles. He can't sleep for thinking that he could have saved those who were wounded, killed. I fear he may be depriving himself out of guilt, refusing to sleep because he wants to keep guard. He wants to protect us-"

"Like he couldn't do for those who perished on our last excursion," Arthur finishes.

"Exactly."

Why would he think anyone expects him to fight? He's not the protector. And he doesn't need to be, Arthur contemplates.

After a long silence, Gwaine speaks up.

"You two should get some sleep. I'll keep watch for a while."

"Alright. Wake me up when you've had enough, and I'll take over," offers Lancelot, and Gwaine nods, patting the former on the shoulder bracingly.

Just as they lay down to sleep, a strangled cry fills the air. Arthur's knight training kicks in immediately and he instinctively grabs his sword. However, a second, similar cry resounds, and he realizes that it's coming from Merlin.

Arthur sits up and moves to see what is causing servant's distress, and finds the young man to be asleep, albeit fitfully. Gwaine is already hovering over him, shaking him more violently than is really necessary in his panic.

The servant lets out a shout as his eyes fly open and he shoots into a sitting position.

"Merlin. You alright, mate?" Gwaine asks, one hand on the servant's shoulder, eyes probing him for injury.

"Uh, yeah. Fine. Just a nightmare. Sorry about that. Well, as long as I'm awake, you might as well rest. I'll take watch," he says, composing himself.

"We've got it tonight, Merlin. Sleep. You need it," Lancelot commands gently.

"Nah. I'm not likely to fall asleep again tonight, anyway."

"You have to at least try, Merlin," Arthur chimes in.

"Don't you think I have?" he snaps, and softens when Arthur's eyes widen slightly. "I'm sorry. That was rude. I'm just… tired."

"You look it. Why can't you sleep?"

"A lot on my mind. For the best, though, right? At least I won't be dozing off tonight…"

"Yes, you'll just be fainting the next time we're attacked by a bunch of bandits or a giant beast, that's definitely preferable." Arthur rolls his eyes, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, I can't very well fix it, so I should at least be productive, right? Make the best of a rotten situation and all that?"

"Come now, mate. There must be something we can do to get you to sleep. Drink some hot tea… or the Princess could sing you a lullaby!" offers Gwaine, earning a hard punch in the shoulder from said "Princess".

"Nope. It'll just go away on its own, eventually. All there is to do is wait it out."

A silence follows, so long that Gwaine and Lancelot drift off and begin to snore, leaving Arthur and Merlin awake alone.

"So, a lot on your mind, eh? Would it help to… you know, talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, come, Merlin, don't be that way. You can trust me. I like to think… I mean, we get on pretty well, right?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Drop the stiff-talk. Formality and politeness don't suit you."

"Fine, prat."

"Better. Anyway… I like you just fine. Don't you feel the same?"

"This has got nothing to do with whether I like you, Arthur. You're a good man, and one day will be a great King. I trust you with my life. I just don't want to involve you in matters you wouldn't understand."

"What makes you think I wouldn't understand?"

"Arthur, please. Let's just drop it."

"Right. Upsetting you won't help. Have you tried doing anything special when you can't sleep? I'm sure Gaius has a few tricks up his sleeve."

"I've tried everything. Drinking tea, deep breathing, every position imaginable, meditation, music… everything."

"Try rubbing your stomach."

"…What?"

"Lie on your back and rub your stomach. It sounds crazy, but it works. Believe me."

"I'm willing to try anything."

The warlock turns from his side to his back, and, after shooting one more questioning glance to Arthur, who nods, begins to sweep small circles on his abdomen with his fingertips.

"Not like that, idiot. You've got to…" Arthur moves closer and rubs a large, continuous circle onto his servants stomach with the palm of his hand. Merlin's eyes close, and Arthur hesitates, but does not stop. After a few minutes, Arthur is the only one awake, elbows on his knees keeping watch, smiling to himself.

Unfortunately, Merlin's sleep is neither restful nor long. Plagued by nightmares, he tosses and turns, even whimpering occasionally. Arthur contemplates waking him up, but decides that even a nightmare-filled sleep is better than none at all.

However, Merlin's cries only escalate until he is twitching and moaning terribly. At this point, the Prince decides that it would be too cruel to allow the boy to remain trapped in his nightmares, and shakes him awake. He shoots up with a start, heart racing, trembling, and drenched in sweat.

"Take it easy. Calm down. It's alright," Arthur mumbles, helping the shaking boy to sit up and drink water from a skin at his side.

"S-sorry," is all Merlin can say back, voice weak and wavering.

"Don't apologize. Want to tell me about it?"

"Not especially."

"Didn't think so."

Merlin curls up slightly, clutching his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asks exasperatedly. He knows that it's not Merlin's fault, but still can't help but be slightly irritated by the whole mess.

"Fine. Just a stomachache. And a little nausea. It accompanies the nightmares, sometimes."

Arthur grunts in response, and the boys sit in silence for a long time.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Arthur asks suddenly.

Merlin is caught off guard. "Do what, Arthur?" he asks confusedly.

"Blame yourself. For things that aren't your fault. Things that aren't in your control."

"I really wish I knew what you are talking about."

"Lancelot told me you can't sleep after battles for feeling guilty. Why do you do that? You're a servant. It's not at all your duty to protect anyone."

If you only knew, Merlin thinks.

"I guess I just… I don't know. Wish I could do more. People die, and get hurt, and… well, I just feel like there's so much more I could do."

"I know the feeling, but… Alright, look. I'm the Prince of Camelot, and a knight. People are depending on me all the time to provide them what they need. One thing you've got to learn is that you can't save everyone. You can only do your best and, if you always make a decision with the greater good in mind, then things will turn out fine. It will be difficult, and sacrifices, innocent ones, will be made. And it's terrible. But you've got to picture your goal, and make that your reason for acting. Then, even if bad things happen, and you can't save everyone, you're still one step closer to your objective. It doesn't make it much easier, I understand, but… hopefully just enough to ease the nightmares?"

"Thank you. I think that helped, really. Sometimes you're not as much of a prat as you seem. Sometimes you can even border on human," the warlock teases. Arthur punches him in the arm.

"And you're not always the idiot you'd have us think you are. The wheels actually sometimes turn in that head of yours. I'm surprised smoke isn't pouring out those ridiculous ears."

"There is nothing ridiculous about my ears!"

Arthur laughs, and Merlin joins in. Another silence follows.

"The sun is rising," Arthur notes, and indeed it is. Merlin nods, puts his hands behind his head, and sighs. He's never been this exhausted, and is really wondering if he will be able to last another whole day on the energy he has left. Not only does he not have much, but every movement takes up far more than it should.

By the time they are packed and ready to head out, Merlin is exhausted. Bone-weary, dead-on-his-feet, down-for-the-count exhausted. All he wants to do is go home and sleep, and knowing that sleep is a luxury just beyond his reach is frustrating and torturous. He groans.

"Everything alright?" Lancelot asks.

"Yeah. Just exhausted," the boy replies, flashing a pained smile towards the older man, who looks sympathetic. In truth, Merlin feels awful. His muscles ache, his head throbs and swims, his stomach hurts, and he feels as if he could fall over at any moment. But there's nothing he can do, so he doesn't complain.

"Merlin! Bring me my sword, will you?" Arthur calls, and Merlin complies, smiling at Lancelot once more.

Just as he reaches the Prince, a dizzy spell washes over him, vertigo crashing into his brain, and he staggers and nearly falls. Arthur raises one eyebrow.

"Just a little unsteady on my feet, Sire," Merlin smiles and laughs nervously. Arthur sighs, but says nothing.

Instead, he reaches up and ruffles Merlin's hair in a brotherly fashion, but stops after a few seconds. His hand slides down before resting at the boy's forehead for a few seconds, then dropping back to his side.

"He's got a bloody fever!" Arthur calls behind him to Gwaine and Lancelot.

"Really? Is he ill?" Lancelot rushes over to Merlin, no doubt with intentions of mollycoddling him.

"Yeah. It's not high, but definitely there. I don't know; can you get a fever from not sleeping?" Arthur questions.

"Yes, exhaustion can cause a fever. But it's no big deal. It's low-grade, we should just head back to Camelot as planned," Merlin replies.

"Are you sure?" Gwaine questions.

Merlin nods. They ride off without another word, and everyone is quiet for a long time. Trips sure seem longer without Merlin's incessant chattering, Arthur notes. As they ride longer and the day grows hotter, the young servant's energy begins to wear thin. He is pale and sweating. Stopping suddenly, nearly causing Gwaine to crash into the back of him in the process, he sways on his feet.

"You alright, mate?" Gwaine asks.

"I'll be fine. Just give me a second," he replies weakly. Lancelot crosses to him and guides him to a sitting position slowly. Once there, Merlin rests his head on his knees for so long that Arthur begins to wonder if he hasn't fainted or fallen asleep, until he sighs and begins to stand.

Arthur presses a cool hand to Merlin's forehead once again.

"You're still warm," he states.

"How do you feel?" asks Gwaine.

"Like I haven't slept in five days… and everything hurts," is the reply.

"Did you bring a pain relieving potion with you in your first aid pouch?" Arthur suggests, but Merlin shakes his head.

"I brought something that would be helpful for pain from wounds, not fatigue. It wouldn't do much." (A/N: Just for the record, this probably does not exist. But in this world it does, for I am the author, and it allows me to torture Merlin for a bit longer… and I'm evil.)

"Well, we're only an hour's walk to Camelot, anyway. Then you can go to Gaius, get a potion, and take some time off to sleep," Arthur says, being uncharacteristically optimistic.

"You're giving me time off? But how will you get dressed!" Merlin says with an expression of overly dramatic mock-horror.

"I can dress myself perfectly well, thank you!"

"Yes, I know. I hear that backwards shirts are very popular this year."

"Merlin."

"Shut up?"

Arthur makes an affirmative noise and rude face, at which Merlin smiles.

Stumbling. Merlin keeps stumbling. Whether he's tripping over his own feet that he's too tired to pick up properly or he's getting dizzy spells, the knights aren't sure, but it does not go unnoticed. When he actually falls, Arthur decides that enough is enough.

He stops and wordlessly begins to unpack meat from his horse.

"What are you-?"

"Hush, Merlin," he says.

After ridding the horse of over 50 kilograms of animal, he turns to Merlin.

"You're riding the horse the rest of the way home."

"Arthur, that's not-"

"I will have no arguments. The last thing we need is you fainting. If you swoon because you didn't follow my orders, I'm leaving you where you lie and you'll have to find your own way back to Camelot," Arthur threatens, no nonsense in his voice or eyes. Merlin can't imagine he's serious, but it's not a risk he's willing to take.

The warlock clambers onto the horse's back and rides, drifting in and out of various states of lucidity through the rest of the trip.

When they reach Camelot, the first place the group goes is to Gaius's chambers. The knights walk an exhausted and semi-conscious Merlin through the doors and into his bed, where Gaius checks him over as he sleeps.

"Is anything wrong with him, Gaius? We thought he was just tired, but the fever was a bit concerning…" Lancelot explains to the physician.

"He is merely exhausted. A few days of good sleep will set him right," the old man answers confidently, smiling at the knight's concern.

"When he wakes up, please tell him he has leave until he recovers fully. I don't want him back until he is fully rested," Arthur commands.

"Yes, Sire. Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks, Arthur," Merlin says.

"You're awake!" declares Gwaine, ever-observant.

"More's the pity. Do you think you'll be able to sleep now that you're back in Camelot?" Arthur teases, but not without hints of concern.

"I'm pretty sure I've reached the point where I can do nothing else but sleep."

"Good. Take the time you need, but not a moment more! This isn't permission to skip out on your chores, Merlin."

"Of course not, my lord. Have faith in my sense of duty!"

Arthur rolls his eyes.

"Just go to sleep, you cabbage-brain."

"Leave the clever insults to me, Sire," Merlin mumbles before drifting into a comfortable and much-needed sleep.

DONE. Finally. This took forever. I hope you like it. It's the first one I've felt confident about uploading in a while, and the longest. Still, it's probably not great. I apologize for any mistakes. Please let me know how you like it! And I'm still taking requests!