Author's Notes: To those who celebrate something during this festive time of year, Happy Holidays! For the others, well have a nice few days off filled with horribly joyful music and painful shopping sales. To all of you I wish that you enjoy this angst filled chapter of my story. And once more, I do not own Merlin... yet *crosses fingers for tomorrow morning's present opening*

Too Much That I'm Asking For by Avril Lavigne

Arthur's shower did not last as long as it usually did. The King's mind was filled with dirty thoughts of things he wanted to do during the night. Merlin was going to regret forcing him into silence earlier in the day. Well, regret was a strong word. He was going to enjoy it by the end; that Arthur was sure about.

He got out of the bathroom, ready to put his plan into action, his mouth smiling at the images of his ideas crossing his mind. He got dressed with a light tunic and trousers that he had brought into the bathroom. Arriving half naked into the bedroom had been a good idea for him before for it had resulted in some of the best sex he ever had. But he dressed anyway, the pleasure of being undressed by the wanting hands of his partner was worth the extra trouble of initiating sexy time while wearing clothes.

He walked out of the bathroom, expecting Merlin to rush in for his turn, and was surprised when he didn't. The King heard some laughs coming from the bedroom. He approached it, worried, only to find the sorcerer lying on the bed, head hanging out upside down. Light shapes of many colors were floating around the room. Some of the figures were animals, other creatures the King would never had imagined too see.

"Merlin," he exclaimed out of surprise.

"Aaaaaarthur," he spoke slowly, turning around onto his belly.

The warlock was acting abnormally. He was acting like a fool, not the fool he usually was, but a drunken one. Things were wrong. The man was not drunk when they had left the fair. Arthur was pretty sure his friend had not drank that much when they were out in the tavern. What was wrong with Merlin?

He approached cautiously, uncertain of which move he would do next. His sexy thoughts pushed aside as he was inspecting his friend's state. Merlin could barely move by himself, his body limp as he crawled out of the sheets. He wobbled towards him. The brunet grabbed his face, pulling his face closer. "Are you the real Arthur?" he asked with a whisper, inspecting the King's eyes.

"Merlin what do you mean?" he grabbed the wizard's shoulders, trying to steady him. The brunet was so out of it he was afraid he would fall any moment.

"You know, the real Arthur, not another hallucination."

"Hallucinations," he repeated with confusion.

"Oh-oh!" the warlock exclaimed. "You don't understand. You're the real one."

Arthur had never seen Merlin in such a state. He changed his strategy. The man was obviously so out of it he couldn't keep his thoughts private. He pushed Merlin onto the bed, forcing him to sit on the mattress. Behind the brunet he saw some stain on the sheets. A dark spot that was damaged by ashes rested on the pale blanket. He pulled them closer, finding a white stick. He recognized the thing, some people from the other world told him about the product. Drugs. He observed them, pulling the joint apart. The herbs inside of it were unknown to him.

"What is this," he asked as he shoved the product in Merlin's face, a little more angry than he should have been.

"That's nothing," he laughed off, pushing his arm out of his way, but the King did not allow him to escape. He grabbed his face, forcing the warlock to look at him.

"Merlin, what is this," he asked again, this time calmer.

"Druid herbs," he explained carelessly. "They amplify one's magic"

The King stayed perplexed. Gaius had talked to him about his friend's magic, saying that there wasn't a stronger wizard in the world. If his friend was the strongest sorcerer to have ever lived, why did he need to amplify his magic, especially when they were having a quiet night in after a few drinks. What had caused him to consume the herbs during his shower?

Arthur thought at the speed of light, wandering about his friend's condition while trying to keep him in spot. "Why do you use it?" he ended up inquiring about the reasons behind such actions.

'For you Arthur," the brunet answered.

Those words stunned the King, completely unexpected. It made no sense to the blonde. Merlin could read the confusing on his face and it made his giggle. Everything made him giggled; he was so out of it.

"I take it for you," he repeated as he placed a finger upon the King's nose. "I needed a way to stay alive for centuries, and those herbs were part of the solution. They made the potion that makes me live."

"You used them for a potion"

"Yes"

"But today you smoke it"

"It's the druid," he whispered. Arthur had to frown his brows to keep along with what the warlock was telling. Little of his words were making sense.

"The druids gave them to me, and I tried them. I used it for the potion and the left over was used for… well for this," he smiled wildly.

"And what is this"

"Seeing you again." Suddenly there was no laughter, no hidden giggle, no false amusement in Merlin's voice. "I use them to see when you were gone"

Arthur's stomach clenched. To see me, he thought. He was suddenly shaken with guilt. Merlin had gone out of his way, out of his mind, only to be with him when he reentered this world. He was obviously sacrificing his mind just so he wouldn't be alone in the after afterlife, and that had brought him to use substances just to see his face. He was addicted, still using the herbs thousands of years later.

Addicted, yes! That made so much sense. It explained why Merlin had been looking thinner, constantly cold and shaking. He was addicted and had been hiding it for all this time. How could Arthur have missed it? The brunet had hidden things from him before, and was still hiding the truth. He was lying about his consumption, and how his lack of consumption was the cause of all the physical problems.

The King looked around the room, finding a bag of the stuff in the open nightstand drawer. He grabbed it, moving them towards the bathroom. The herbs were the problem and he would make it better.

"Where are you going," Merlin asked.

"To get rid of this," he growled as he shook the bag in his hand with all his anger

"No" he screamed, rushing towards the knight. "You can't take them"

"Merlin, look at yourself"

"I did, I have been looking at myself for years. This is not the first high. I'm fine," he explained as he reached for the bag in the blonde's hand.

"You're lying," he yelled. "Just more and more lies, Merlin." The warlock's eyes were fixated on the bag, only adding to the King's irritation.

"Arthur I can explain."

"I don't want to hear your explanations," he turned around and continued his path to the bathroom. He noticed the plant that was placed above the cabinet. The pattern on the growing leafs resembled the herbs in the bag. Lots of humidity, it's hidden in plain sight, he thought. Of course Merlin had his own plant. He reached out for it. The herbs were going to the trash and the warlock was going to be clean, either he wanted it or not.

He did not expect the brunet to attack him with such force, slamming his body against his own. The force of the impact made him drop the bag. Merlin was pushing him aside, reaching for the herbs. Arthur grabbed him by the waste, turning his body as he pulled the brunet away. But the warlock was not following. He began to step back, slamming the King against the wall. In his shock of the impact, he let go on the thin waste in front of him.

Arthur took only an instant to get back into fighting mode. He had to stop Merlin without hurting him too much, and when the man was in he did not dare be as hard as he would usually be, unsure of what push would be enough to seriously injure the brunet. He could probably injure himself all alone, his fight with Arthur was asking for something bad to happen.

He grabbed the dandy wrist that was reaching for the bag, pulling Merlin's arm behind his back. The warlock screamed in discomfort, but Arthur did not stop. He knew that fixing his friend's problem was more important than handling him with care. He pulled the figure behind him, slamming the brunet against the wall. He held him in place with his forearm. Grabbing the bag, he opened the toilet with his feet.

"Merlin this is horrible for you. Look at yourself. You've been shaking and unstable since I arrived here. You're out of control."

He pulled the plant apart and started to flush as the body beneath his arm was trembling. Now the bag was being opened. He heard some incomprehensible words being muttered next to him as the bag flew out of his grip. It levitated in the air, moving above his head and landed in the sorcerer's hand.

Arthur shook his head, brushing off the gob smacked expression on his face. He went to pull the bag out of Merlin's hand, but was stopped by a sudden pressure against his chest. He saw his friend's eyes shine gold as he felt a push in the center of his body, making him fly across the room and smash against the ground of the living room. Merlin had used magic against him, attacking it with the force of sorcery. His breath leaved him when his body hit the ground, shoulder digging first into the solid wooden floor. He let out a cry of pain, the back of his shoulder blade burned with the sting of bruised skin. He lied at Merlin's feet, folding himself under the ache in his right side. For a moment, just a brief moment, the warlock seemed worried, as if he was preoccupied with the knight's state, but it did not last. His priority being the herbs that he held dearly against his chest. Aiming for the wizard's knee, Arthur kicked violently. Merlin, flustered with pain, lost his balance and fell face first to the ground. It gave the time to Arthur to rush towards the now free bag that had been dropped on the floor and dunk it into the loo

He never believed he would have never seen the day were Merlin would turn against him. The one person he had trusted more than anything had betrayed him.

"And you say you are fine" he breathed out, the frustration too strong to hide. He ripped the bag out of the sorcerer's hands rapidly, throwing it away as fast as he could to avoid the wizard's magic once more. Merlin cried as the toilet flushed, as the last of his drugs were destroyed.

"You used magic against me," he stated for no one. "What happened to the 'I use it for you Arthur, only for you'," he whispered in distraught.

"I do," he replied instinctively, as he cried over the toilet seat that had stolen him from his precious salvation.

"Yes, use it for me, to get what you want out of me," he criticized.

"No, Arthur! I use it to protect what I care for, to protect you"

"And protect herbs over me, from me"

"You threw them out," he cried. The King could not bring himself to respond, emotions taking the best of him. He could not stand here, look at the person he had trusted, he had loved, and had eventually betrayed him crumble to the ground as he had preferred the addiction to his own.

He walked out, shaking his head. He couldn't be here; he couldn't stand near the person who had so deeply broken his trust, the anger and the betrayal taking over his mind. He grabbed his sword that lay by the door as he stepped outside.

"I hate you," a broken voice screamed from the lonely room he had just left. He breathed deep, hesitating. The pain in his chest was driving him to close the door, slamming it loudly as he left the flat.

Arthur walked along the street, finding his way to the fair. It was the only place he knew he could go in this strange world that surrounded him. As he entered the park, a few drunken bodies exited the tavern. Their smiles and laughter reminded him of the promise night that had been robbed from him only to be replaced with pain and heartbreak. Because yes, Arthur's heart was broken. His chest was heavy with a feeling of grief. He had lost his lover to the addiction, making the man so pitifully addicted that he had turned on him. He walked towards the battle field, yielding his sword. He spotted one of the training dummies standing lonely in the dark field. His weapon flew towards the dummy at full force. He fed his arms with the force of his angry hurt, screaming out as he vented his emotions. Acting out on his feelings was probably more hurtful than holding them in. This way the King was forced to deal with the surfacing emotions had his face twisted with tears. His breath was scattered.

With a last blow of anger, the dummy broke under the sword.

Arthur fell to his knees at the same time the stuffed chest reached the ground. He grabbed his face as he tried to restrain the uncontrollable sobs that escaped him.

"Arthur" a scared voice called to him. He didn't dare look up, wanting to stay alone in his mess.

"Arthur" the figure called again. A hand found its way to the knight's shoulder, pulling him behind. Robert was looking at him filled with worry. The blonde tried his best to regain his composure, ashamed to have anyone see him in such a broken state.

"Oh my friend, come with me. Don't stay outside on such a cold night, especially as you are now" he exclaimed as he pulled the blonde up, holding him by his shoulders. Arthur was to emotionally exhaust to resist. He followed Robert into the castle. The King didn't even have the energy to comment on how horrible of an excuse for a castle the place was. The man brought him to a set of stairs that brought him to another level of the building.

"My place is above the banquet hall. Please stay here as long as you want" he invited as they entered the room.

Arthur sat on the sofa, feeling numb from the vast emotional outburst that had shaken his body earlier. Robert offered him some tea, something that the King accepted gladly and pulled a blanket out of the covers. He folded the sheets, placing them by Arthur's side. "I don't have a guestroom" he explained. "I'm afraid you will have to content yourself with the couch. "

The blonde did not respond. He didn't even move his head towards him. Robert bit his bottom lip, uncomfortable at the pain he could see on his guest's face.

"The sofa unfold, he explains, trying to get words out of the broken man. still no reaction

He did not ask about what had plagued the blonde, to the delight of the King. "Thank you" he whispered, grateful for his help and his respect.

"There is no need to thank me" he explained. "Everyone needs someone to look over them"

"I lost my someone, at least I think" he blankly said, his eyes lost in the empty air in front of him.

"So it's a heartbreak that plagues you this night" he concluded. "In that case let me get something stronger than tea to south your pain. I think there is some mead in the fridge" he offered, but the King did not accept it

"No, I need my mind to stay clear. I need to think. I do not want to lose my senses to mead, not tonight, he whimpered, the pain returning to his voice.

"Alright" Robert accepted, worried that he could not help the broken man in front of him.

Arthur massaged his right shoulder, the pain was still fresh. Every movement he made stung down his back and arm, making his nerves ache. He didn't mind the pain. It was a reminder that his friend had betrayed him, a call to reality, a fresh souvenir that forced him to think about what had happen.

He wanted to hate Merlin like he had hated magic, calling him names and scream sorcerer with a condescending tone. He wished he could hate the magic that had hurt him, blaming its source. That would have been easier than to face the truth that he was hurt a lot deeper.

He denied it for so long, his love for the brunet, leaving those passionate feelings deep in the unconscious of his own mind. But in this life he had faced those feelings, accepting the hard truth that there was nothing in this world he cared more about than that man. He had tasted the joys, the pleasures, the world of happiness they could have had together, only to have it taken away by him. Merlin had never been his; he had belonged to the drugs, those god damn herbs that exposed the worst of him.

"If you need me, my room is at the end of the hall" Robert's words brought him out of his thoughts.

Arthur replied with a nod, nothing more than a small shake. The host took one last look to the blonde before going to his room, thinking that he had done his best.

That night Arthur did not sleep. He stayed in the dark, staring at the emptiness in front of him. His windpipe was still tight as he shake, once more allowing the pain of betrayal to take over his body. Merlin he thought. Merlin. Merlin. Merlin his mind repeated until his mind numbed him to the name, hoping to make it meaningless. But every time he thought it, it only made his heart hurt with the increasing meaning, the meaning of his lost love, of his broken heart, of the betrayal that was scaring its way through his body.

Robert woke up the next morning, hoping there was something he could do to ease the blonde's pain. He could feel the depth of the man's heartache by looking at his broken posture. His figure was screaming hurt. Exiting the bedroom on the tip of his toes, he looked to see if the blonde guest was sleeping, only to see that the sheets were untouched on the corner of the sofa where he had placed them the night before. On the kitchen table he found a note that read "Thank you for your hospitality" signed with a calligraphically set of initials reading AP.