Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.
Author's Note: Okay, so I really, really like this? It might just be one of my all-time favorite chapters to date (not to mention, one of my all-time favorite stories). It's also far longer than I had anticipated. However, it has allowed me to plot out the rest of Dragonlord's Son, and I think I can safely say that this story will be 9 chapters, and no more (though, I will let you know if that changes). I know many of you may have been hoping for a magic reveal—it's a start, at least :winks:. Please enjoy!
Reviewers: All 232 of you, thank you!
Rating: T/M (for later chapters)
Summary: Winter has come to Camelot, and Destiny blows in with the snow, leaving Merlin with a few vital decisions to make…[Friendshipfic. Bromance.]
"Speech"
Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)
.:A Man's Measure:.
By Sentimental Star
VII: The Dragonlord's Son (Part 7)
Arthur did not quite process what had happened at first. Lost in a gray swirl of nausea and light-headedness, battling the fire spreading rapidly from his wounded side throughout his entire body, he abruptly found himself thrust through a black, red, and gold haze towards awareness.
When his eyes snapped open, a pair of blue eyes burnished with gold confronted him.
He caught the gold glow for but a second before it retreated, but it allowed him to recognize their owner:
"Merlin…?" breathed in confusion.
Merlin (for such it was) gasped, immediately attempting to roll off the bed.
Automatically, Arthur grabbed for his wrist, attempting to pull his friend back on the bed with him.
Half-tumbled, half-yanked onto the mattress, Merlin ended up sprawled across Arthur's chest.
A stammer of the Crown Prince's name, and Merlin started up to perch precariously on one hand and one knee above Arthur in an attempt not to crush his master.
Arthur's grip tightening around his wrist prevented him from rising.
Stilling above the older boy, Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and curled in on himself, tightly clenching the hand of the wrist Arthur held against his chest. Beneath his fingers, the prince felt his friend's pulse jump.
He frowned, mind cloudy with puzzlement and exhaustion. Why…why is he afraid?
Weakly, he tried to pull Merlin closer to him—or, failing that, tried to pull himself closer to Merlin. "Wha…what happened, Merlin? I-I thought I just saw…D-Did I see…?"
His manservant tried once more to extricate himself from Arthur's grasp, but the prince would have none of it. Shifting as his frown deepened, the older boy attempted to reach up his other arm to wrap around the lithe form still hovering above him.
He halted with a wince, his body loudly protesting the sudden movement, and gasped out an "ow" as stars abruptly filled his vision.
Instantly, Merlin bent over him, momentarily forgetting his fright as panic for Arthur replaced terror, "Arthur…what? What is it? Is the wound-?"
Instead of responding, Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through the pain and compartmentalizing it, as Sir Ector had taught him.
Incidentally, that situation had taken place when he was fourteen and needed his shoulder reset after the failed coup against his father. This pain was so much worse.
A cool hand abruptly cupped his cheek, its palm smooth with the leather of the vambrace its owner still wore. Against his burning skin, it felt wonderful.
Cracking his eyes open, Arthur peered up in hazy bewilderment at his manservant, whose blue eyes watched him, bright with worry.
As those blue orbs took note of the prince's attention, the brows above them furrowed deeply with consternation. The lips beneath them pursed and, in the split second before Arthur heard footfalls in the hall outside his door, he saw—quite clearly—their depths illuminate with gold.
IOIOIOIOIOI
Moments later, Gaius swept in, his hands full of potions bottles, bandages, thread, and a needle.
…All of which he nearly dropped upon catching a glimpse of gold retreating back into his apprentice.
"Merlin, what are you doing?" the panicked demand caused the young man to abruptly jerk back from Arthur, literally tumbling off the bed and landing on the woolen rug below with a jarring crash of chain mail.
Unfortunately, his sudden movement also aggravated Arthur's wound.
As Arthur—who had gone to prevent Merlin's fall—grabbed his side and doubled over with a hiss of pain, Merlin jackrabbited up off the floor, just as Gaius rushed to the Crown Prince's side.
At first, physician and apprentice spoke no words, too busy trying to coax Arthur into uncurling so they could examine the extent of the damage.
When they finally managed to successfully assess the situation, it was Arthur who spoke first, "I-It's okay," he gulped in a deep breath, hands still clenched over the wound, "I….am fine, Gaius. Merlin…h-he just…he did something. I-I don't know exactly what, b-but—"
Gaius, who had begun to look over the wound, glanced up sharply. First at Arthur, then at Merlin (who squirmed uncomfortably in place). For a long, frozen moment he stared down his apprentice, leveling Merlin with his most forbidding scowl.
But when at last he turned back to Arthur, relief and fondness sparked deep in the depths of his green eyes, "Your Highness…I was given to believe you were unconscious."
Arthur swallowed and nodded gingerly, "I-I know. I…was, I think, but then Merlin…" he trailed off, glancing uncertainly at his manservant where Merlin stood beside him.
As Arthur's gaze wearily tracked up the familiar form, he noticed his friend's shoulders had turned rock solid with tension. The younger man had a hard set to his jaw, and his fingers had since clenched in tight fists at his sides as he glared at the ground.
Arthur frowned, exhaustion and confusion making him drop his guard more than he might have, given the circumstances. Tentatively, he reached out, lightly touching one of those fists and attempting to ease his fingers in-between Merlin's.
Merlin started, glancing up at him with brows knitted together in bewilderment. Hesitantly, the manservant loosened his fist and let Arthur slip his fingers into his palm.
A severe frown decorated Gaius's lips as he watched them, but he said nothing, choosing instead to resume his examination of Arthur's wounded side.
It took longer than Arthur might have expected. If the tension he felt vibrating through Merlin underneath his hand was any indication, his friend thought the same.
Gaius had good reason for taking so long. Quite aside from the fact that the Crown Prince's injury should have had him at death's door within hours, the elderly physician suspected a magical working afoot.
Ygraine—Arthur's mother—had been a Healer, after all, and Gaius had used some of her scrolls (and a few books) to teach Merlin. It stood to reason that Merlin—who, a little over two years ago, had suddenly displayed a drive and verve to learn all he possibly could about magical medicine—might have stumbled across more and proceeded to memorize them.
Potentially, given the sheer amount of power his protégé possessed, he could even have created an entirely new healing spell.
Arthur's wound seemed to confirm Gaius's suspicions:
Consistently, as Sirs Ector and Kay had helped he and Guinevere safely transport Arthur back to his chambers, it had wept blood, its edges beginning to color black. Even if Gaius had managed to suture it, the blood loss alone would have killed the Crown Prince, never mind any unseen damage that might have occurred.
Now, though, it merely looked like a freshly healed and puckered scar, pink with white around the edges and no sign of sutures anywhere.
Gaius eased back with a sigh, offering a tiny smile and a nod to the prince, "It is healing, Sire, and although I do not necessarily approve of Merlin's methods…" here he darkly side-eyed his apprentice (who ducked his head, ashamed), "we have only to worry about the blood loss right now, and that can be remedied easily enough."
Arthur inhaled a deep, wavering breath, "Good…" and exhaled another, squeezing the slender fingers intertwined with his own, "Good. Gaius, I…please do not be mad with Merlin. I-I think I saw…I-I know I saw…g-gold. B-But—"
Before either Gaius or Merlin could become too alarmed by the direction of this discussion, Arthur abruptly shut up as all three heard the quiet snick of the prince's door unlatching and the rapid, heavy tread of boots belonging to a man whose presence increasingly complicated matters:
As the oak door fell shut behind him with a loud thud, Uther Pendragon's gaze cut straight past his Court Physician to land on said Court Physician's apprentice. "…You," he growled.
IOIOIOIOIOI
…Uther probably should have anticipated he would find Merlin in Arthur's rooms. By now, he should have grown used to it. Quite aside from the boy's status as Gaius's apprentice and his son's manservant, he rarely left the Crown Prince's side. Even on days Uther knew the boy had off, invariably he sought Arthur's company.
Over the past three years it had caused the Lord Chamberlain many fits. When the man had brought it up with the king, Uther—at first—had dismissed it, and advised him to take it up with Gaius, instead.
After all, why would the Crown Prince befriend a manservant? His manservant, no less?
The same Crown Prince who would defy his father to go haring off after an herb, fight bandits, and defend the selfsame servant from a traitor, apparently, Uther thought with an unhappy scowl.
Arthur's relationship with his manservant honestly baffled Uther at the best of times (and this wasn't one of them), especially since he could not see what his son found so intriguing about a simple serving boy.
…Except Merlin had never been a simple serving boy to Arthur.
Uther had seen the smile Arthur wore whenever Merlin gave up a free day to accompany him—whether on the prince's duties around the castle or out on patrol. He knew whenever Arthur faces a particularly daring or dangerous quest, inevitably, he dragged his manservant right along with him.
Only today had Uther received an inkling as to why.
"Father…?" the hesitant inquiry rolled through the air, spoken by a voice Uther had begun to fear he would never hear again.
Jerked out of his staring contest with his son's increasingly uneasy manservant, Uther spun around to face the bed and breathed, in no little disbelief, "Arthur…?"
Quickly, he strode over to his son's bed, halting on the side opposite Gaius and his apprentice. He might even have seized Arthur's hand, had someone else not already taken the other one.
Even for as close as the two boys had grown, finding Arthur's manservant handfast with his son still came as an unpleasant shock.
Perhaps sensing Uther's growing displeasure, Merlin tried—once more—to extract himself from the older boy's grip.
Arthur outright scowled, "Stay put, Merlin!" huffed.
In that moment, it was hard to tell who the Crown Prince had startled more—Merlin who stilled and all but gaped at him, a dozen different emotions flitting through his eyes…or Uther, whose increasingly stormy countenance momentarily lightened as he incredulously stared down at his son.
Arthur, of course, noticed none of this, his focus quickly slipping, unable to concentrate on just one thing, "Father…a-are you all right? The coup…i-it didn't succeed, did it? Sir Boris didn't—"
Uther blew out one long, slow breath. Of course, there is that, too.
"I am fine, Arthur. Your boy," and he nodded grudgingly to Merlin, "and Sir Leon ensured that."
Startling Merlin (and alarming Gaius), Uther shifted more fully to face the younger boy and, for several unending seconds, stared down his son's manservant, expression neutral.
…Then he bowed his head, causing Merlin to all but fall over at the acknowledgement. "Your boy fought…most impressively. Your training has proven quite fruitful. You have every right to be proud."
Uther paid more homage to trainer than trainee, as was only right, but the brilliant smile that lit up Arthur's tired face did not turn to him. It turned, instead, to his manservant, "I am," the Crown Prince whispered.
At his prince's response, color leapt into the boy's cheeks. Bowing deeply (and ignoring the scowl his subservience elicited), the manservant murmured, "Thank you, My Lord."
…In hindsight, Uther probably should have predicted that would happen, too. However his son had developed this notion that all lives mattered and were worthy of honor, regardless of their owners' status, Arthur had internalized it, and it was the code he lived by.
Nowhere did that become more apparent than in his interactions with his manservant. Uther still struggled to accept it, as it upset his belief of how the universe worked:
Knights, at least, had their uses in battle—servants were good for little else but to serve.
Uther had learned that as a young boy and stood by that belief as he grew into an adult. It had not seemed to matter much…
…Until now.
Pinching his nose with a sigh, Uther gave one last, grudging nod to Merlin, "You fought well, boy," muttered gruffly. He chose to ignore the gaping looks his response drew from Gaius and Arthur. "I am indebted to you for saving Arthur and defending my person. I shall speak with you or your master on the morrow. For now, leave us, and rest easy in the knowledge you have more than fulfilled your duties to my son."
IOIOIOIOIOI
It should have been simple enough. The manservant knew a dismissal when he heard one.
However, as Uther unfortunately had occasion to know, "simple" rarely applied to this particular manservant and his relationship with Arthur.
"I do not wish him to go, Father," the Crown Prince's voice rang out in his bedchamber, soft and wavering only faintly with pain.
Uther snapped his gaze down to Arthur, who steadily returned it. "He is to stay here," his son quietly continued, tightening his grasp on his manservant's hand.
In response, Uther's jaw clenched, "Arthur…" he warned.
Arthur set his own jaw, lending a mulish cast to his face. "What, Father? He has done no harm. In fact, I'd think you would wish him to stay. H-He is Gaius's apprentice, after all." Everyone there heard the faint crack of his voice and caught the slight wince which he had not managed to hold at bay.
"Arthur…" Merlin's soft voice tried to intercede.
Uther might have objected to the assumed familiarity, had not Arthur turned his glare to his manservant. "I want you to stay, Merlin," the Crown Prince's face grew more obstinate. "Y-You ought to know why."
Displeased with the turn their conversation had taken, and seeking clarification, Uther turned his scowl to Gaius. "He is your apprentice, Gaius. Take him in hand! My son—"
"Your son," Arthur interrupted tersely, "is more than capable of making his own decisions! Gaius, Merlin is to remain. Th-That's an order!"
Caught between his prince on one side, and the king on the other, Gaius tried to object, "Your Highness…"
But Arthur stubbornly shook his head. He shot a sharp look at his manservant, "H-Help me up, Merlin."
Merlin stared. "What? But, Arthur-!"
Arthur grit his teeth, "Now, please."
Fortunately, his manservant chose not to remark on the titular "please," bending down, instead, to let Arthur hook his arm around his neck in attempt to pull himself up.
For a moment, they were within a breath's span of each other and Arthur thought he saw tenderness in Merlin's blue eyes, before his manservant's gentle hands on his sides helped steady him.
Blowing out a short, not entirely even breath, and hoping that the faint heat he felt on his cheeks was not visible, Arthur turned back to his father. "There," puffed, "y-you see? E-Either way, I will need someone here with me. W-Why shouldn't it be Merlin? H-He is my manservant!"
(Also, friend. But Arthur did not think that would make his father anymore inclined to let Merlin stay.)
Uther, for once, looked at a loss for words. Every point his son had made was valid—and Arthur knew it.
Moreover, a glance at Arthur revealed that despite his bravado, his son could barely maintain his own weight as he sat there and so, had to rely on his manservant's arm to support him. The effects of his blood loss were apparent, too: Arthur's face shone with sweat and he had colored several shades too pale.
A glance at his son's manservant confirmed the boy's worry, as well. For a youth cheekier and more defiant than Uther might have liked, Merlin displayed none of that tendency now.
In fact, as Uther watched (and seemingly unaware of the consequences his actions might have wrought), the manservant reached out and lightly wiped Arthur's face with his free hand, brushing back the sweaty and tangled bangs that had fallen in the older boy's eyes.
To Uther's utter surprise, Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into the caress. "Your hands are cool," the prince murmured to his manservant, seemingly unaware of their audience.
A lopsided smile decorated the boy's face, "That is only because you are feverish, Your Highness."
The teasing lilt to the address was all too apparent to Uther, who had yet to start breathing again, cut to the quick by how viscerally the entire exchange suddenly reminded him of a very similar one he had once had with Ygraine.
Perhaps the memory of his deceased wife had done what even Arthur's persuasive arguments could not, because when Gaius took his elbow, Uther did not snap as he might have after conceding a disagreement with Arthur. Nor did he object as his Court Physician whispered, "Come, Sire, I believe Merlin may have the situation well in hand."
Uther found himself forced to acknowledge his chief councilor's point.
Gaius raised his voice slightly, "Merlin…?"
Snapped out of their insulated bubble by the older man's call, Merlin pivoted to face his mentor, color high in his cheeks, "Yes, Gaius?" answered sheepishly.
Gaius stroked his chin in attempt to hide his amused smile, "I will see His Majesty to our quarters where I will give him a sleeping draught. Guinevere should be along shortly with the rest of the potions and bandages you may need. We'll set this as a test of your ability to heal trauma and go from there."
Before Merlin could grow too worried about what that might entail, Gaius escorted Arthur's father from the room.
IOIOIOIOIOI
When they were left alone, Arthur sagged into Merlin, his head leaning in the crook of Merlin's neck and his body leaning into Merlin's side. The front he had put up crumbled, now that he only had the company of the person he trusted the most, and he was tired, aching and dizzy and wishing only to sleep.
But he needed to address a few things first.
"W-Whatever you did half a candle mark ago," Arthur muttered into the cool skin against his cheek, "I-I could certainly use some of it now."
A light, slightly disbelieving laugh pattered against his forehead, "Y-You idiotic prat," but the familiar burst of gold swelled around them.
At this point, Arthur could not deny what he was seeing, but fatigue and fever so muddled his mind that he could not quite grasp the implications of what it might mean. All that mattered was that the dizziness had subsided and the pain in his side—for the moment—had retreated.
Also, that Merlin had not left him. There was that, too.
"…What did you do?" he murmured in exhaustion.
Merlin gently took hold of his chin and tilted Arthur's head up. A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he gazed down at him, "What I did half a candle mark ago," returned deadpan.
Arthur scowled, weakly knocking his friend's hand away. "Merlin…!"
Another light laugh, and Merlin's hand fell to clasp in the small of Arthur's back with his other one.
A moment later, and Arthur grunted in surprise when his manservant used that hold to gently squeeze him. Before the Crown Prince quite processed his friend's motion, Merlin's forehead abruptly dropped to press against his own, "…Thank you, Arthur."
His cheeks quite red and a rather prominent pout on his lips, Arthur glowered at him in confusion, "I-I have no idea what you are even thanking me for!"
Merlin laughed again, "A lot, but mostly for defending me a few minutes ago. Y-You didn't have to do that. I-I know how much you dislike going against your father."
Arthur's glare did not let up, mostly because Merlin was (and always had been, when it came to these things)…right. "W-What are you yammering on about, Merlin?" retorted peevishly, although he could not quite hide the heightened color of his cheeks, especially against the stark paleness of the rest of his skin. "Don't. I-It makes my head hurt!"
"And makes you cranky, apparently," Merlin observed in amusement.
At Arthur's ferocious scowl, his friend laughed softly, "…Sorry, Arthur," placated. "But you know…it's great fun to tease you when you're like this."
"How kind," muttered sarcastically, as Arthur rubbed at his face.
Merlin chuckled, reaching up to gently pull the prince's hand away. Blue eyes ringed with exhaustion stared back at him, causing the younger man to sober, although amusement still tugged at his lips' edges. "It means I care for you, Arthur," he elaborated softly. "It's what Will and I did all the time back home in Ealdor. It's what friends do."
Startled by this sudden, utterly unanticipated revelation, Arthur sucked in a sharp breath (and winced), jerking his head up to stare at Merlin.
His manservant returned it with a beloved, lopsided smile, "You need sleep, Arthur." The backside of his knuckles lightly pressed against the Crown Prince's cheek. "I promise I'll explain everything soon, all right?"
It's what friends do, the unspoken thought hovered between them.
Well, Arthur supposed, blinking back sudden tears, I can deal with that.
TBC