Arthur really tried not to scrutinize his manservant, but it was proving to be a difficult task. Merlin had been unusually quiet that entire morning, as if his mind was elsewhere. Before Arthur could question him about it, Merlin had scampered off, mumbling something about laundry. Call Arthur crazy, but something wasn't right. He was loathe to admit it, but it hurt Arthur that Merlin was being so secretive when it was so obvious that something was bothering him. Arthur told that idiot everything, and Merlin shared next to nothing about his own life.

So when Arthur returned to his chambers after a long day at the training fields, he could feel that he was close to snapping. The king shut the door with a tired sigh, then turned to find Merlin standing over a fresh tub of bathwater. Arthur felt his shoulders relax at the thought of a warm bath after such a long and frustrating day. However, it was certainly strange that Merlin was suddenly so on top of things.

"What's this, then?"

Merlin startled and looked up from the tub, as if he just realized that Arthur was standing there.

"Erm… a bath, sire."

Arthur cringed inwardly at the formal addression. He played it off with an eye roll.

"I know what a bath is, Merlin. I'm just not sure why you've suddenly decided to be competent."

Merlin blinked, his nose wrinkling comically. Arthur felt a flash of hope.

"You're complaining about my productivity?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's just not like you, I suppose."

"Well, sorry." Merlin also shrugged.

Arthur chuckled a little at Merlin's confusion, but he still felt a twinge of frustration fizzling underneath. Why couldn't he ever get through to Merlin the way that Merlin got through to Arthur? It was maddening.

"I wish you would just tell me what's been bothering you," Arthur said quietly. He hadn't really meant to say it out loud.

Merlin's brow furrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line. "I've already told you, I'm—"

"Fine. Right. I don't even know why I bother. You're always keeping things from me."

"Arthur, I—"

"Trust goes both ways, Merlin. I thought you were supposed to be my friend. I guess I was wrong."

The words came out harsher than Arthur meant, but he wasn't about to take it back. He even relished the look of hurt on Merlin's face for a moment. But then the moment passed, and Arthur just felt guilty. Merlin looked pale, his eyes glassy. For gods' sake, Merlin looked guilty—that look did not belong on his face. After all, Arthur was just worried about him, and instead of coaxing the truth out of Merlin, he had just lashed out at his closest friend instead.

"I'll just go get your dinner," Merlin whispered, bolting for the door.

"Merlin—"

The door slid shut. Arthur sighed. Even when he treated Merlin unfairly, the servant still clung to his gentle nature. Arthur wanted Merlin to throw a punch, or at least yell back in self-defense. But no. Instead, he absorbed the harsh words graciously and it made Arthur feel so much worse.

Arthur was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear Merlin reenter. That is, until he heard a plate fall with a startling crash. Arthur jumped a mile high.

"Lords, Merlin! What—"

The second Arthur got a good look at Merlin, he knew something was wrong. Merlin was staring at Arthur, his eyes round and frightened. That was all the warning Arthur had before Merlin's eyes rolled up and he dropped bonelessly to the floor. Arthur darted forward, but he wasn't quick enough to protect Merlin's head from hitting the ground. But what came after was far worse.

Arthur thought that Merlin had just been shivering, most likely from a fever. But when the king laid a hand on Merlin's forehead, there was no sign of a temperature. So why was Merlin shaking so much?

Arthur's heart thudded harder in his chest when Merlin's tremors turned into full-on convulsions. Arthur had no idea what to do, so he held a hand under Merlin's head to stop him from harming himself. The sheer force at which Merlin's head hit Arthur's hand made him wince, and the small, involuntary sounds of distress ripped from Merlin's throat pulled at Arthur's chest. Arthur tried to restrain his servant's arms to stop the fit, but Merlin cried out and Arthur instantly let go.

"Guards! Get Gaius!" Arthur yelled, not bothering to mask his panic.

Merlin continued to convulse on the floor for agonizingly long minutes, limbs flailing, his eyes rolling.

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur whispered.

Arthur noticed a sudden flash of red, and recognized that Merlin's nose had started bleeding again. Whatever was happening to Merlin, Arthur knew it was worse than he had initially thought. He heard a commotion at the door, but he couldn't remove his eyes from his friend.

"Sire, are you alright? What's going—" Gaius trailed off as he rounded the corner of the dining table, his eyes going wide.

"Gaius, I don't know what's happening—"

"He's seizing. Hurry, put him on his side, clear his airway."

Gaius joined Arthur on the ground, helping him hold Merlin in place. The seizure seemed to be lessening now, only minor jerks and tremors were still claiming Merlin's limbs. Then he stilled completely, his eyes rolling closed and his breathing irregular. The sudden stillness was even more unsettling than the seizure had been. Blood was now flowing from Merlin's ears as well as his nose, his face pale. It was terrifying—Merlin looked close to death.

"Merlin?" Arthur was painfully aware of how his own voice shook.

"Stay as quiet as possible, sire. Noise will just stress him out when he wakes," Gaius whispered as he gently cleaned away the blood from his ward's face.

"Should we move him?"

Gaius shook his head. "I don't want to disorient him any further. And don't be alarmed if he does not recognize us. That is common after a seizure such as this." Gaius then examined Merlin's eyes, forcing them open with his thumb. He hummed, seeming to draw some conclusion, and sat back with his hand over Merlin's.

Arthur swallowed dryly, trying to calm himself down. He had never witnessed a seizure before, and it had rattled him more than he thought it should've. "Will he be alright?"

"We'll know when he wakes."

They sat there in silence for a while, watching Merlin's breathing even out as he laid there on his side. He looked so young and peaceful lying there. Arthur clenched his fist, swallowing down the rising feeling of guilt. What if Arthur had triggered the fit somehow by yelling at Merlin? What if Merlin had been climbing the stairs when the seizure happened and he severely injured himself? Had Merlin had a fit before? If so, why hadn't Arthur been told?

Merlin gasped weakly, his eyelids fluttering. Gaius held a finger to his lips, signalling that Arthur should keep quiet. That was going to be hard, so Arthur bit his lip to maintain his silence.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" Gaius whispered gently.

Merlin's nose scrunched up and his head tilted slightly away. "Hurts…"

"Where?"

Arthur didn't miss the way Merlin's eyes glistened with barely unshed tears. Merlin shook his head, the fear evident in his features. It was painful to see his brave and confident friend in such a vulnerable, confused state.

"Everywhere," he whispered, the tears breaking free.

"That's alright, Merlin. Just relax. You need to sleep."

Merlin's head shook again slowly. "Where is she?"

"Who?" Arthur blurted, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Merlin stared at Arthur with clouded eyes. There was no recognition in them, just raw fear. Then they slid closed again, leaving the king and the physician reeling in a heavy, unwelcome silence.