Nothing survives the bite of a Questing Beast. Part snake, part leopard, a magnificent creature of the Old Religion that was regarded by all who know of it as a terrible omen. A harbinger that carried the power of life and death itself. Its sharp teeth and deadly venom that draws the life from you, slowly, painfully. Leaving only destruction and sorrow in its wake.
So no, nothing survives the bite of a Questing Beast. Not unless you have unnatural forces beyond this world on your side, keeping you tethered to life.
Arthur could still remember the feel of the beast's claws cutting through skin, its teeth biting through flesh. The white hot pain that had coursed through his entire body, slowing his heart and squeezing the breath from him.
I thought we'd lost you, his father had admitted to him shortly after he had awoken from the poison's clutches and though he had dismissed it with a joke, that small comment had shaken Arthur more than he cared to admit. His father rarely allowed any concern to shine through his rough exterior and so to voice his fear aloud told Arthur just how close he had been to death.
Not that he needed to be told, mind you. He could still feel it. He was alive and well and healing, but he could still feel that all-encompassing weakness not quite willing to relinquish its grip on him just yet. His chest hurt and his limbs ached and the simple act of pushing himself upright in order to lean against his headrest had taken more strength out of him than he had expected.
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back with a gentle thud.
"Everything alright, Sire?" Gwen asked with a delicate smile as she crossed the room to stand at the side of his bed, the warm bowl of soup that had been promised held tightly in her grasp. She had been in and out of his room several times over the past few hours, never staying long but always ensuring he had everything he needed. Arthur had always noticed the kind hearted nature of Morgana's young servant but he had never much been on the receiving end of it before. It felt strangely comforting, her kind looks, her reassuring words, her soft touch. A small part of Arthur hoped he never recovered, anything to keep Gwen visiting him a little longer.
"Everything's fine, Guinevere." He croaked in reply and had to cough a few times to clear his throat, but he took the bowl gratefully, the heat protruding through it warming his hands nicely.
He watched silently as Gwen began folding the pile of fresh linens that had been left on the chair, taking a sip of the soup every now and then and enjoying how it soothed his sore throat. Her shoulders were hunched and she was more silent than usual, an unusual mix of tension and weariness rolling off her as she worked. He wondered briefly if his comments earlier had made her uncomfortable, if her reluctance to talk to him was to ensure the conversation was not brought up again.
Could you blame him though? He could hardly be held responsible for the words that his newly conscious brain came up with after realising that a beautiful woman had been tending to his fever.
"Is something wrong?" He broke the silence, lowing the bowl to his lap.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" She threw a smile over her shoulder, noticeably not making eye contact before turning back to her work. "Though I must say, you are looking very well considering how ill you were earlier."
He hummed distractedly in response, brows furrowed as she continued.
"I'm not sure even Gaius realised how quickly you would begin to heal after he gave you the cure, but the people of Camelot are certainly glad to hear about your recovery."
"Well, I share their joy." He replied honestly, digging his thumb into his sore shoulder with a bit more force than necessary as he tried to massage out the pain. He'd never been a sickly child and even a simple cold would be unallowed to fester for long, being treated instantly under Gaius' care. But even he knew that whatever the Questing Beast's poison had put his body through was a hundred times worse than the many illnesses he had never faced. It was more than just a sickness, it was a dark, all-consuming force, clawing at his insides until it took every last piece of him. And he would be forever grateful that it hadn't claimed him entirely.
Gwen nodded to herself, the small smile forming once again at the corners of her lips interrupted by a gaping yawn. She quickly stifled it with her hand but the embarrassment shined in her eyes as she glanced over at him.
"I'm not boring you, am I?" Arthur asked, poking fun at her gently.
"I'm sorry, Sire." Gwen apologised immediately and though Arthur wasn't expecting to receive Merlin's level of sarcasm, it was strange that his teasing wasn't returned even in half-fold.
"How is it you look more tired than I feel? Has Morgana been working you to the bone?"
"No, of course not Sire. I'm just- I've been helping Gaius." She gathered up the folded sheets and placed them gently in the nearby chest of draws, her attention being drawn towards the door as the draw clicked shut. "I should probably get back to him actually."
"Can't Merlin help him? You look as if you're about to fall asleep where you stand."
Gwen paused and Arthur watched as her eyes flittered around the room as if the answer to his question was written down somewhere and she just needed to find it. He noticed the moment she spotted the jug resting on the table and moved to pick it up, once again not looking at him as she spoke.
"Not exactly Sire, he um— He's sick."
"Sick?"
"He fell ill not too long ago."
Arthur frowned at hearing this news, the bowl on his lap long forgotten as he rubbed at the ache that had returned to his chest. He hadn't once questioned why Gwen had been so attentive to him today but it would explain why Merlin's presence had been suspiciously absent.
"Is it bad?"
Gwen plastered on a reassuring smile that Arthur could see cleanly through. She filled the cup sitting on the small table by his bedside, a little water sloshing over the side as it poured out of the jug too quickly. "I'm sure Gaius would much prefer you to focus on your own healing right now."
And before Arthur could ask any more, she bid him goodnight and left the room, her dress flowing behind her in her haste.
The hours crept by after that, night painting the sky a deep black interrupted only by the shining light of the moon. Arthur shivered under his blanket as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace, his body still racked with the occasional chill. On the whole though, he felt almost back to full health, which was strange. Someone that close to death should not be so well recovered after one simple antidote, right?
Not that he doubted Gaius. The man was a genius in the healing arts so if anyone could cure an incurable illness, it was going to be him.
Unless he'd run out supplies.
It was late and he'd had a busy day. It was completely understandable if he'd been unable to make any more antidotes for anything tonight. Say, for a mysterious illness that no one was telling him about.
Because seriously, how bad could Merlin's illness be that Gaius hadn't managed to cure it yet?
It had been on his mind ever since Gwen had left his room in a hurry, the secrecy, the evasiveness, the fact that his servant hadn't come bumbling through his chamber doors at any point that evening to reveal it had just been a simple cold and that Arthur had been worried for nothing.
Well— not worried. No, concerned. About not having a servant to tidy his room and fetch his food. That was all, definitely nothing more.
I mean, really, what on earth could be going on that Merlin still hadn't come to see him.
Maybe he'd worn out his poor muscles dragging Arthur out of the cave and away from the Questing Beast.
—Or maybe he'd been bitten too. And Arthur's worries - concerns - about Gaius' lack of antidote supplies were worse than he first imagined.
He should go and find out, he considered, already slipping on his boots.
Only to see if he would need to find a new servant to fetch his morning breakfast. That was all, nothing more.
He was undoubtably a sorry sight as he traipsed through the halls in his night clothes, blanket wrapped haphazardly around his shoulders, but that was one of the perks of being the Prince. He could be wearing one of Morgana's stupidly frilly dresses if he so wished and nobody would say a word. Besides, he'd almost died, he was allowed one night off from being pristine and put together.
It was quiet in the physician's chambers as he pushed the door open and peered inside. Gaius' bed was empty and there was a single candle flickering faintly on the desk, but it was the stronger glow coming from around the doorframe of Merlin's room that told Arthur where his servant might be hiding.
Merlin's door creaked as he nudged it open making Gaius look up from his work. It was clear from the physician's face that he was incredibly surprised to see the Prince at the door, blanket and all, but Arthur's focus was drawn to the figure in the bed.
Merlin was lying on his back, head tilted towards the candle on the table that was lighting his pale face with an eerie glow. Arthur could see how his breaths were coming in small, sharp gasps, as if each inhale was a struggle and though his eyes were closed, it was clear from his pinched brow that he wasn't resting comfortably.
But worst of all were the marks covering his face, his neck, his hands. Any part of his skin that wasn't hidden. It looked like his veins were trying to protrude from his skin underneath almost blister-like bumps sitting in clusters around his features and across his knuckles. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.
"Sire, what are you doing out of bed?" Gaius whispered - though Arthur doubted anything would waken the sleeping boy. He placed the cloth he'd been using to cool Merlin's forehead on the table and stood to move towards the door. "You should be resting."
Gaius tried to not so subtly guide him back the way he came but Arthur stood his ground, gripping the doorframe as his other hand caught the blanket before it slipped off his shoulders.
"I'm feeling much better. Honestly."
Gaius watched him carefully with weary eyes and Arthur could almost see how much he wanted to sit him down and confirm that was true for himself. Over the many years he'd known him, Gauis had never been able to switch off the physician part of him, always diligently checking on his patients, sometimes days after their health had improved - and apparently that applied to the aftermath of miracle cures as well.
"What happened?" Arthur asked before Gaius could think of a convincing reason to send him back to his room. The silence before he received an answer was somewhat concerning.
"He fell ill earlier."
The words did nothing to calm the uneasy feeling that was creeping into his chest. It was the same evasive answer that Gwen had provided him with before. Why was no one answering him?
"What's wrong with him?" He tried to sound commanding but the way he kept his voice quiet made the tone fall flat. Though whether Gaius recognised it as an order or was just too tired to avoid the question was unclear, but still he sighed, glancing back at Merlin.
"I don't know exactly. Whatever this sickness is, he caught it when he left the castle this morning." Gaius paused, eyes downcast. "He was looking for the antidote. For you."
If Arthur hadn't have been hit suddenly with such an overwhelming sense of guilt he would have noticed that Gaius wasn't telling him the whole story. But right now he could only focus on one thing - Merlin was sick, very sick, all because he'd gone to find whatever was needed to save Arthur's life.
Arthur was alive because of Merlin. And Merlin was ill because of Arthur.
"But you can cure him, right?"
"I'm doing everything I can for him." Gaius answered solemnly and either he didn't want to bore Arthur with the specifics or that was code for I'm keeping him comfortable.
A rush of cold flooded Arthur's veins and he felt his heart beat harder against his ribs as the sudden thought of leaving this room right now scared him - not that he'd ever tell anyone if he was asked.
It wasn't like he and Merlin were friends. He could never be friends with a servant. But there was no denying their bond had changed slightly since they first met. The talking back, the constant teasing at each others expense, Arthur honestly couldn't imagine having that level of familiarity with any other servant.
Was there a rung on the ladder between servant and friend? Acquaintance? Associate? Whatever it was, somewhere in the many months they'd spent side by side, Merlin had gone up a step and the sudden thought of losing him was making his head hurt.
"It's late, Gaius, why don't you get some sleep. I can stay with him."
"No Arthur, you need to be resting in your own room, you were gravely ill—"
"And now I'm not. I've been resting all day, if I went back now I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway so I might as well make myself useful." Arthur placed a reassuring hand to Gaius' shoulder, choosing his words carefully to play right into his caring nature. "Merlin's going to need you at some point and you'll be no good to him if you're too tired to think straight."
Gaius glanced back at his ward once more as he mulled over Arthur's words. He could almost see how much it pained Gaius to leave him in the care of another - not because it was Arthur's care, but because it wasn't his own. Arthur had made a good point though and it only took a moment for him to concede.
"You'll wake me as soon as you feel tired enough to return to your room?"
"Of course." Arthur nodded, moving out of the way to allow the man through.
It felt strange being in Merlin's bedroom. Sure, he'd been there before on the odd occasion that his servant had slept in and he'd revelled in the joy of physically dragging him out of bed. But never like this.
He took Gaius' vacated seat, glancing at the various tinctures sitting next to the candle and bowl of water. He didn't know what any of them were for but they clearly hadn't been working, most of the vials still half full where they'd been abandoned.
A groan from the bed pulled Arthur's attention and he watched as Merlin tossed in his sleep, muttering and moaning under his breath as his eyes rolled beneath their lids.
It was only once he'd settled did Arthur realise that the boy was shivering. His fingers almost twitching where they rested on his stomach. The brown blanket covering him looked threadbare and thin and Arthur considered taking his own off to provide Merlin with some extra warmth, but it was only as he went to move Merlin hands under the cover did he realise just why Gaius hadn't made his patient more comfortable.
Placing the back of his palm to Merlin's brow confirmed his suspicions and he almost hissed in sympathy at the heat sitting there. He was burning up. Without thinking, Arthur continued where Gaius had left off, grabbing the cloth and squeezing out the excess water before resting it on Merlin's forehead. Maybe it wouldn't do much but it made him feel better, knowing he was helping just a little.
If Merlin had been ever been sick since coming to Camelot, well, Arthur had never been privy to it. Aside from the unfortunate poisoning debacle that Arthur very much did not like to dwell on, he'd never seen his servant ill before. It was unnerving. The silence. The stillness. It was so un-Merlin.
As much as he complained about his servant's clumsiness and lack of manners, he'd secretly come to find those qualities quite amusing. No other servant would ever dare to talk back to the Prince the way he did. And yes, at first his attitude was wholly unwelcomed but very quickly it felt almost natural, having someone to challenge him instead of agreeing with his every word.
Another groan passed Merlin's lips and soon his eyes were blinking open, slowly, tiredly, and it took a moment for his them to meet Arthur's.
"Hi." Arthur smiled, returning the cloth to the bowl to give Merlin his full attention.
Merlin's gaze wandered lazily around the room, his brow furrowing as if he was just realising for the first time where he was. Arthur's breath caught in his throat and he wondered if this display of confusion warranted waking Gaius, but then again this was probably just the workings of a fever-addled mind.
Merlin's tongue poked out to wet his lips before a harsh cough erupted out of him instead of whatever words he was about to say, his whole body jolting as he tried to sit up. There was a cup of water ready and waiting on the table and Merlin gulped the liquid down greedily as it was tipped into his mouth, Arthur's other hand supporting the back of his head as he did so.
"You're okay?" He croaked around another cough.
"Yeah, I'm okay." Arthur lowered his head back onto the pillow once it was clear he was finished with the water. He pulled the sheet back over Merlin from where it had half slipped off the bed. "Thanks to you, I hear. Though only you could manage to fall ill collecting herbs."
"…happy to do it, glad to pay the price."
Arthur had to lean in closer to hear what Merlin was saying, his voice so quiet the words were barely leaving his mouth.
"The rabbit's foot, -for protection."
His eyes were glassy, staying closed longer and longer with each tired blink.
"Ic þe þurhhæle…"
Arthur frowned at the jumbled words, unable to tell what was Merlin and what was the fever talking. He hushed him softly, running his hand through his own hair as he waited for Merlin's mumbling to taper off.
"You know, I don't recall giving you the day off." He chastised gently, smiling as Merlin looked over at him, eyes a little more focused than before. "My chambers are a mess and Gwen had to bring me my food. I couldn't even find anything more than a blanket to walk the halls with."
He gestured to the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders and the corner of Merlin's lips tilted upwards slightly. "If this is your way of getting out of your duties…"
Merlin shook his head feebly against the pillow. "I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die."
Arthur's throat felt thick as he swallowed down Merlin's confession. He dabbed the cloth over Merlin's forehead once again, wiping away the fresh beads of perspiration that had formed during the short conversation. "Well, it's not going to come to that."
Merlin sighed at the sensation, closing his eyes as a few drops of water rolled down his cheeks.
It didn't take him long for sleep to claim him once more.
And it didn't take long for Arthur to follow.
The morning rays filtering through the window woke Arthur from the light slumber he'd fallen into. His back instantly protested as he tried to sit up straight, the awkward sleeping position leaving his muscles achy and his neck sore. The forest floor during a mission was undoubtably more agreeable than this chair, but he hadn't quite been able to bring himself to return to his room last night. He just hoped Gaius didn't get too angry at him for his disobedience, he was far too tired to listen to it right now.
He yawned widely, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. It hadn't been the most restful night, every groan from the bed had jolted him awake and every new attempt at getting comfortable had been more disagreeable than the last, but luckily for him, he was supposedly still recovering. All Princely duties were on hold until he was completely healed, so as soon as he was done here, he could simply return to his room and sleep the rest of the day away.
Gaius had always told him growing up that sleep was just as important as the many medicines and potions he would brew. Arthur used to think the physician was using it as a punishment, making him stay in bed even when he was no longer tired, but the older he got, the more he appreciated the wise words. Sleep did always make things better.
Though glancing down at the bed, that didn't seem to be the case this time.
Merlin's eyes were closed, his lips parted slightly, and his face looked much paler than the night before, his skin almost translucent. A jolt of panic burst through Arthur's chest as he feared the worst, until he noticed the slight rise and fall of Merlin's chest. Too slight, too slow.
He pushed Merlin's hair back to check his temperature again and was dismayed to find his forehead still much too hot. It's seem the night's rest had not done him any favours, leaving his condition much more grave than before and Arthur could feel the concern rising up again.
He'd seen it happen before, illness and injury leaving men in such weakened states that their bodies could no longer cling to life. They simply drifted away between one breath and the next without ever waking. And Merlin looked far too close to that for his liking.
"Merlin?" He whispered, shaking the boy's shoulder with enough force to wake him without doing any harm and Arthur's heart sank when there was no response. No fluttering eyes, no pitiful groan, nothing.
Seeing no other option, he swiftly left the room to fetch Gaius. If Merlin was deteriorating he needed an expert at his side, not someone completely uneducated in the healing arts. Arthur barely paid attention to his own council meetings sometimes if they bordered too close to boring, so anything Gaius had taught him over the years had long since left his brain.
But being welcomed by an empty bed and no physician in sight had Arthur freezing in his tracks. Where on earth was he? Did he not realise how ill Merlin was?
More importantly, why the hell had he left Arthur alone with him? Did he not realise how incapable he was of looking after Merlin by himself?
Before he could blindly panic at what on earth to do next, his eye caught sight of a note resting against the pile of books on the table. He hefted up the blanket still wrapped around him to avoid tripping down the stairs and crossed the room. A neatly scrawled Arthur could be seen on the front so he unraveled the paper to skim the words hastily written inside.
It was a short note, clear and straight to the point. The point being that Gaius had a plan to fix everything. He didn't specify what exactly this new, surprise cure was that he was searching for, but just the knowledge that he would return soon with something to save Merlin's life was enough to tell Arthur's lungs to breathe properly again.
He still felt uneasy at the sole responsibility that had suddenly been placed upon his shoulders. Merlin was suffering— dying, and if he was honest with himself, he'd only felt comfortable helping last night with the knowledge that Gaius was right outside should Merlin need him. And now Arthur was alone, with no idea what to do.
But Merlin needed him. And he would do whatever was required until Gaius was back.
So without dwelling on it any further, he returned to the room, took his place in the chair and resumed the role he'd filled since the night before, hoping beyond anything that Merlin could hold on just a little longer.