Leon regretted volunteering for the night shifts of reconstruction. He had known it was a good idea at the time—not being willing to ask his knights to do things he would not himself—but struggled to maintain that sense of duty in the face of work that was somehow both incredibly tedious and physically and emotionally exhausting at once. Although nights in Camelot were generally quiet and safe these days, the approaching winter loomed over the Lower Town more heavily every day. The people were desperate to rebuild as much as possible before the snow hit, and many worked long through the night until they physically could not go on. Leon and his team did what they could to make this easier by installing new torches and providing food and blankets to those working overnight, but Leon had found himself pressuring more than a few overworked and desperate individuals into getting some rest before they made themselves sick, or worse.

As he rounded a corner, Leon started at the sudden opening of the door to a home further ahead. A figure dashed across the street, placing one hand against the wall before leaning over and retching violently.

Leon winced, hating the sound of vomiting, but picked up his pace anyway. It was too dark to make out much, but Leon could easily the man's heavy breathing and unsteady hand moving to wrap around the man's waist. A moment before he could announce his presence or take a look at the man's face, Leon registered the conspicuous piece of cloth wrapped around the stranger's neck.

"Merlin?"

Merlin's head jerked up at his voice, jerking his arm forwards and splaying his fingers and palm towards Leon. The knight stared at the hand unamused.

"We need to work on your self-defense. If you're going to let people sneak up on you like that, at least try to try to make a fist when you swing at them."

Merlin stared at him dumbly.

"Huh?"

He glanced down at his hand. It was shaking and still splayed out uselessly. Merlin finally seemed to realize what Leon meant.

"Oh, whoops." He made his hand into a fist. "I've never been much of a fighter. Thanks for the tip."

Merlin straightened up, leaning back against the wall and tucking his fists under his arms. Leon took advantage of the moment to get a proper look at the servant before him. Merlin's hair was a matted mess, making his ears stand out more than usual. He looked exhausted. Slumped against the wall, with dark eyes and still shaking slightly, Merlin did not look well. As Leon glanced farther down, he was horrified to see a spot of blood on the forearm of Merlin's shirt.

"Are you injured?"

Merlin immediately shook his head.

"No, I'm fine. Sensitive stomach. No injury."

Leon grabbed his arm and turned it so Merlin could see the bloodstain, annoyed when Merlin seemed as surprised as he was to see it. Merlin quickly jerked his arm away.

"It's not mine. I've been healing all night; I probably got it from not paying attention while bandaging the woman in there." He nodded at the house he had just left.

It might have a decent explanation if Merlin did not look so obviously ill.

Seeing his skepticism, Merlin sighed and, reluctantly, rolled up his sleeve. Sure enough, there was no wound on the arm.

"See? Nothing here."

But as Merlin finished rolling up his sleeve, Leon could suddenly see a deep bruise forming just below his elbow. The mark was a deep purple and fairly large from what he could see.

Merlin realized his mistake instantly and yanked his sleeve back down.

"See, no injury. I'm just a mess and a wimp at the sight of blood, like usual. I'll make sure to clean up as soon as I get back to Gaius'."

Leon frowned. Did Merlin really expect him to pretend he had not seen what he had?

"Well, I'm heading back to the castle. Why don't I walk you home? Make sure you get there safely, and Gaius is home to take a look at you." He swung his arm out towards the castle, hoping to subtly push the servant in that direction.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Sir Leon, but I'll be fine. You should focus on your patrol. I know you and the Knights working in the lower town must be incredibly busy."

In his head, Leon cursed the stubborn men he had apparently been cursed with forever trying to get to take care of themselves. Merlin could be just as stubborn as Arthur, sometimes, but Leon was a bit less certain how to get through to him. He opted for the blunt approach, which had sometimes worked to calm a desperate prince who, as a squire, had regularly overworked himself in the hopes of appeasing his father.

"Frankly, Merlin, I would much prefer to see you home safely. You look terrible."

Merlin flushed and tightened his arms around himself tighter.

"I'm fine."

Leon stepped closer.

"Oh, you are? Good, good. Then can you hold out your arms with your palms up for me?"

Merlin looked away with a scowl. This was a trick Gaius often used to get recalcitrant patients to admit they needed medical treatment. Either they refused to show their hands, proving something was wrong, or they held them out and revealed their shaking. It was a tactic Leon had adopted for when he needed to get his own stubborn knights to seek care, and he knew Merlin was aware of exactly what he was doing.

"I've worked with Gaius long enough to know when I'm sick. I'm fine."

But as he spoke, Merlin's voice went thready. He seemed paler than when they had begun speaking, and he was sweating as well. Leon watched in concern as he locked his knees to force them to keep supporting his weight.

"Why don't we sit down a moment."

Merlin gave a jerky nod. Leon moved to sit against the wall, watching the servant slide down to join him. Sitting along the wall of a random street in the Lower Town next to a peasant felt strange, and far from proper, but, then, propriety never seemed to apply when Merlin was around.

Leon turned to get a better look at the man next to him. Merlin had rested his head on his knees but could apparently still feel his glance.

"Just need to catch my breath."

Leon scoffed.

"It's more than that. How long have you been working today, Merlin?"

Merlin shrugged, still bent over. Leon sighed.

"Things can't continue like this. You haven't looked well since the dragon's attacks started."

That was enough to get Merlin to turn his head towards the knight. He looked amazed that Leon would have noticed such a thing. He knew most knights would not have, but it still hurt to think that Merlin was so shocked by such a simple observation.

Leon liked Merlin, but he rarely got to interact with the man beyond a quick hello as they passed each other in their duties. Leon would have never expected a defenseless servant to ride out to fight a dragon like Merlin had, and he had found even deeper respect for Merlin's dedication to Camelot during the time since. This past week, they had spent more time together than ever, on account of Leon's injuries and their work in the recovery effort. Watching Merlin now, Leon realized he had also become rather invested in the man's wellbeing.

"Will you at least tell me what really made you sick? You can't have that sensitive of a stomach after working for Gaius as long as you have."

Merlin was quiet for a long moment, back to staring determinedly at his knees. The knight settled into a more comfortable position against the wall, sensing that this was not the right moment to push for answers. Eventually, his patience paid off.

"I couldn't save her."

It was barely a whisper

"Who?"

Merlin nodded at the house he had just left.

"Beverly. She'd been sliced badly by the dragon, and I've been trying to prevent infection ever since but the wounds were just so deep, and I'd thought I'd cleaned them well enough at the beginning, but maybe I didn't since they just never seemed to heal properly, so now—"

Merlin's voice cracked, ending his sudden rambling. Leon was beginning to get a better picture of what had happened that night.

"And she died just now."

Merlin just nodded.

"I know I should go back in. I need to help her family figure out what to do with the body, and, gods, someone needs to explain to her kids. But I just needed a minute. And I know I should be helping more since it's all my fault, I just—"

Leon refused to listen to any more of this.

"NO."

Merlin cut himself off.

"This is not your fault, and it's both pointless and ridiculous to think that way. You did everything you could to help that woman, and it's not your fault the dragon killed her. I saw that beast's claws—They were filthy. Infection was inevitable."

"Still, I should have done more—"

"More what? Working yourself into the ground? Blaming yourself for the casualties of a random magic attack that had nothing to do with you?"

Merlin flinched, somehow managing to curl even further into himself. Leon suddenly worried his words might be making things worse.

"It's not your fault, alright?" The second time sounded hollow. "I want to hear you say it."

Merlin sighed uncomfortably, but he turned to look Leon in the eyes properly for the first time that night.

"Alright. It wasn't my fault I couldn't heal Beverly's infection."

Leon nodded.

"Good. Especially in your line of work, you can't go blaming yourself for everyone you can't save. Sometimes there's just nothing you can do. It's a lesson most knights have to learn the hard way."

"It's still hard."

"And I can't say it'll ever get much easier, but you learn to live with it."

Merlin just nodded again. The two sat in silence for a long moment. Merlin seemingly trying to pull himself together while Leon struggled to figure out the right words to say next.

Eventually, he decided to speak to Merlin as a friend, rather than First Knight.

"Promise me you'll take a break? You deserve some rest and care, especially after all of the incredible good you've done for Camelot recently. At the very least, you're useless to us if you're too sick to work."

Merlin shifted to sit back up fully. He turned his head to look away from the knight next to him, but not before Leon could see, with a realization of horror, that Merlin had teared up at his words.

After taking a deep breath and quickly swiping at his face, Merlin spoke but remained turned away.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Leon knew when he was being appeased, but, for the moment, it was enough.

"Then will you let me walk you home?"

Merlin nodded.

"Just give me a moment."

Leon did. The two sat in comfortable silence, watching as the torch across the street slowly flickered out. Just as it had almost died completely, Merlin indicated he was ready to walk again.

Leon offered his hand to help Merlin stand before he could protest. He was glad he had done so when he still felt how unsteady the other man was. Merlin led them back to the home he had just treated, but it was Leon who did most of the speaking with Beverly's widow. Once they had confirmed, to Leon's great relief, that her family wanted to handle the funeral rites themselves and no longer needed Merlin's assistance, Leon and Merlin gave their condolences before bidding the family goodnight.

Once the door before them shut completely, Leon turned to Merlin and gestured for him to lead the path back towards the castle, which, thankfully, was rather short, if packed with multiple flights of stairs. Even Leon was winded by the time they arrived outside Gaius' chambers.

As they stared at the doors to the Physician's quarters, Leon debated whether to knock and wake up Gaius. He certainly did not trust Merlin to ask for the help he needed, but, at the same time, knew exactly how overworked Gaius was. He suspected what Merlin really needed was some rest and perhaps a good meal, which was not technically the sort of thing one woke the Court Physician for.

Merlin reached for the doorknob before Leon could decide what to do.

"Thank you for walking me home, Sir Leon, um, and for all the advice. I'll get some sleep and see you tomorrow, I'm sure."

Leon sighed. He had probably pushed Merlin far enough tonight.

"Good night, Merlin. Rest well."

Merlin quietly opened the door, turning back just as he slipped inside.

"Thank you. You too."

Leon slumped as the door closed before him, knowing he had yet another project to worry about—this one far less easy to solve with swords, shields, or combat positions than the ones he usually preferred to work on. He would speak with Arthur tomorrow. Hopefully, the Prince would have a better idea of how to approach the issue of his servant.

Arthur looked up from his dinner at the sound of a quiet knock at the door that could only be one of the more timid servants of the castle.

"Enter."

In walked a young man, similar in age but infinitely more polished than Merlin, who immediately gave the Prince an almost-too-deep bow before shutting the doors to Arthur's chambers behind him. He had the typical lean muscle of a castle servant, and he had donned the unassuming browns and tans most servants chose to wear while working. Arthur got the impression he might be wearing his nicest outfit for this occasion, recognizing the stiff crease to his clothes, fresh polish to his boots, and tenseness in his shoulders that Merlin always pointed out in servants hoping to prove themselves.

"Yes?"

Arthur gave him an expectant look. Typically, any servants who entered his chambers to assist Merlin in cleaning did so when Arthur was away, so visits from non-Merlin servants at this time of night generally consisted of those delivering messages to Arthur. Typically, the bad kind of messages that made his day ten times harder.

"I am the one the King has assigned to be your temporary manservant, your majesty. I truly appreciate the honor and hope I may please my prince with my work. How might I best serve you currently, your majesty?"

Arthur stared at the servant, blinking stupidly.

"My… temporary manservant?"

The man before him somehow became even tenser.

"Yes, your majesty. Did no one inform you of the change? I'm so sorry, your majesty, I—"

Arthur cut him off, recognizing that he was causing the poor man to panic.

"You've done nothing wrong. I'm just surprised. Did the King mention why you had been assigned to me?"

A slight nod. The servant did not look any less scared of Arthur.

"Something about security during the upcoming investigation of the citadel, your majesty. I did not ask for any details, since I worried it was not my place. I can be very discreet, I swear."

Arthur leaned back heavily in his chair and took a deep breath through his nose.

"I see. I'm sure you can be. In that case, there are two things you can do for me. First, would you please clear up the rest of my dinner? I'm not so hungry anymore. You can do whatever you want with the leftovers."

The servant stared at him in open shock. If there was one thing Merlin had taught Arthur, though, it was that his leftovers would end up eaten no matter what. It was better to give the servants permission and avoid the messes they would cause by trying to secretly sneak food to hidden parts of the castle.

"Of course, your majesty. And the second?"

He moved to begin collecting Arthur's plates. He looked far more confident and steadier at the task than Merlin.

"Your name?"

That got Arthur a smile.

"Simon, your majesty. A pleasure to meet you."

Arthur smiled back.

"And you as well. I won't need you for the rest of tonight. Take an early evening and wake me at dawn for breakfast with my father."

Simon bowed even lower than before.

"Of course, your majesty. Thank you, your majesty."

With another bow and hurried steps, Simon was out the door. The second the latch fully clicked, Arthur's posture drooped. He could feel the beginnings of a headache blooming between his eyes and pressed his fingers around the sides of his nose to try to stifle it.

Eventually deciding he was doomed to the headache until he got some sleep, Arthur looked down at the list of suspects on the table before him. He practically had it memorized, by this point, but the prince could not stop himself from staring at the script anyway. He recognized the handwriting as the King's, something he rarely saw outside of signatures on official documents.

Arthur's gaze drew past the name of Lord Bretton, a low-ranking outlying lord and father of one of Arthur's favorite squires, before landing on Gaius'—unsurprising, but disappointing to see on the list. Had the old physician not done enough to earn their trust, despite his past?

Eventually, Arthur reached the final item on the list, the one that echoed in the back of his head at all hours of the night.

"All servants of the castle are to be treated as vulnerable to the temptation of magic. They will each be interrogated fully, and even those who prove themselves innocent should not be trusted with information on the security of the citadel. Neither rank nor length of service may be considered proof of loyalty to the Crown."

Wishing Merlin was there to complain to, Arthur instead whined to himself.

"Well, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"