Hide All Weakness

Summary: Merlin isn't feeling well, but is determined not to let Arthur or anybody else know, viewing his illness as a display of weakness.

This is the longest story in this collection so far, as I usually don't post one-shots that are over 1000 words. But I liked this how it was and didn't want to cut it down or post it in two parts. A bit of Merlin whump, because everyone seems to enjoy reading about a suffering warlock.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Merlin'.

…..

As soon as he woke, he knew something was wrong. He couldn't put a finger on it exactly, but something about him felt different and he didn't like it. His muscles were aching, although that was nothing too unusual considering the number of chores involving heavy lifting or other taxing physical labour that Arthur had him perform on a regular basis. As he sat up, he noticed a slight tightness in his stomach, but ignored the uncomfortable sensation and continued with his preparations for the day.

The elderly physician looked up as his ward descended the short flight of steps leading into his chambers.

"Ah, Merlin. Would you be able to drop off these preparations for Lady Elspeth and Sir Leon on your way to Arthur's chambers? Lady Elspeth needs to drink half the potion this morning and the other half tonight, and Sir Leon's is a pain-relieving potion – he knows when to take it."

"Of course", Merlin said, dredging up a bright smile for the benefit of his mentor.

"I made porridge for breakfast", the physician added, nodding towards a bowl on the bench. Merlin glanced across, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the thought of the thick, sticky meal.

"Thanks, but I can get something from the kitchens", he said casually, reaching across to take the potions Gaius had indicated. "Don't want to be late for Arthur, do I?"

"Indeed", Gaius murmured. He straightened up, pausing in his task of grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, and smiled across at the young man opposite him. "I'll see you later."

Merlin nodded cheerfully and left the physician's chambers.

It wasn't long before the warlock, having delivered the potions to Lady Elspeth and Sir Leon, was on his way to the kitchens. He quickly filled a tray for Arthur then, after hesitating for a moment, grabbed a small bread roll for himself. He knew better than to go without breakfast, and he was sure that the dry roll wouldn't aggravate the uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

Once in Arthur's chambers, he gave his usual, cheerful morning greeting of 'Rise and Shine!' and ducked as the sleepy King tossed a pillow at him. Once Arthur had finished his breakfast, Merlin helped him into his armour and collected his weapons for the knight's training that was to take place that morning. For some reason the load seemed heavier that day than usual, and Merlin's legs felt slightly wobbly. He stumbled slightly as they exited the castle and Arthur looked across at him, a vague hint of concern discernible in his blue eyes.

"Why are your things so heavy?" Merlin grumbled, hefting Arthur's shield higher up into his arms.

"It's due to your lack of strength, Merlin", Arthur drawled. "They're really not that heavy."

"Like you say you're not that heavy?" The servant bit back, with a nasty undertone to his otherwise joking statement.

"For the last time, I am not fat!" The King protested, a little taken aback by the servant's spiteful retaliation. "And my weapons are not that heavy!"

"Well, we can't all be as strong as you, can we?" Merlin mumbled sullenly as he followed Arthur to the training ground.

….

Merlin usually stood to watch the knights' training, but his legs were still feeling a little unsteady and he was not keen to stand for an hour while the knights and Arthur pummelled one another with various weapons. Instead, he sat on a bench near the training grounds, running a cloth absentmindedly over Arthur's spare sword as he watched. Although it was still reasonably early in the morning, the sun was already beating down mercilessly, leaving the knights covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The heat was enough to make Merlin's head spin and he realised with a start that he had had nothing to drink since the previous night. Shaking his head to clear both the thought and the dizziness, he refocussed his gaze on the knight's combative training, which seemed to be drawing to a close. After a further ten minutes, Arthur dismissed his men and walked over to where Merlin was still sitting, dropping his shield and mace at the servant's feet.

"What did you think?" he asked indifferently, glancing at his manservant for a brief moment before looking away once more. Merlin shrugged.

"It didn't seem any different from usual, to be honest", he replied. "Just a bunch of idiots beating each other up with swords and maces."

"Are you calling me an idiot?" Arthur asked indignantly.

"No, not you Sire", Merlin assured him. Arthur looked surprised at his servant's assertion that he was not an idiot, then pouted as Merlin continued: "You're definitely more of a clot-pole."

"I've told you before; that's not a word", he complained.

"And I've given you a definition before, King Arthur", Merlin answered cheekily.

"Shut up, Merlin!" Arthur retorted. "Gather my things, when we get back to the castle I want you to polish my armour, sharpen my sword, draw me a bath, fetch my lunch and find my speech on taxes for the council."

"Yes, Sire", Merlin muttered, stooping to pick up the King's shield and various weapons. His head spun once more as he straightened up, but as earlier, he ignored the light-headedness. He was rarely ill, and viewed sickness as both an inconvenience and an unnecessary display of weakness. All he needed was a drink of water. He refused to acknowledge that anything else could have been wrong.

…

"Are you nearly done?" Arthur called from behind the changing screen as Merlin dumped yet another bucket of water into the large wooden tub.

"Yes Sire", Merlin forced out through gritted teeth. He was not in a good mood, and small things that usually wouldn't bother him so much – such as Arthur's inability to recognise his hard work – seemed incredibly frustrating at the moment. Turning away, he was suddenly hit with a wave of vertigo so strong it nearly knocked him off his feet. He dropped the bucket, but couldn't hear the clang it made as it hit the floor over the ringing in his eyes.

"What have you done now, Merlin?" Arthur asked impatiently, stepping out from behind the screen clad in only a pair of trousers.

"I need water", Merlin gasped, reaching out blindly for support as his vision receded to a tiny square of colour at the end of a long black tunnel. In two long strides, Arthur was at the servant's side. Grasping his friend firmly by the shoulders, he slowly lowered them to the ground until Merlin was in a sitting position. The dark-haired man curled into a ball, head resting between his trembling knees as he breathed raggedly in and out.

"It'll be alright Merlin, just hold on", Arthur instructed. Outwardly he seemed calm and efficient; inwardly he was filled with worry for his friend. Seizing the water jug on the table, he poured some water into a goblet and held it out to the servant, who took it with shaking hands and slowly lifted it towards his face. Arthur held the goblet steady while Merlin drank from it, trying to hide his anxiety over his friend's unsteady grip.

"Thanks", Merlin whispered hoarsely, weakly pushing the goblet away.

"What happened?" the King asked evenly.

"It's nothing, really", Merlin gave his head a small shake. "I'm fine."

"I'm not a fool, Merlin", Arthur said seriously. The warlock snickered.

"Could – have fooled – me", he replied breathlessly.

"Merlin, you're clearly not fine", Arthur pointed out.

"Yes I am", Merlin insisted. As though to prove his point, he uncurled himself and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling dangerously and grabbing Arthur's bedpost to keep from falling. "Just a little dizzy", he said, by way of explanation.

"You're obviously not well", Arthur stated once more. "Why didn't you tell me something was wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong", Merlin said stubbornly, disregarding the fact that the bedpost was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"People don't just faint, Merlin. Not even you, and we both know what a girl's petticoat you are."

"I'm fine", Merlin repeated, although with considerably less conviction. "I just got a little dizzy. It's passed now."

"Which is clearly why you're still clinging to the bedpost for dear life", Arthur said sarcastically. "Merlin, being ill is nothing to be ashamed of!"

"Yes it is", Merlin muttered, so quietly that Arthur almost didn't hear him. "Being ill is being weak, and I can't afford that."

"What?" Arthur scoffed. "Merlin, you know that you don't actually have a choice in whether or not you get sick, right?"

Merlin remained silent, and Arthur's face softened as he regarded his servant and friend.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but… you're actually not a bad servant", he admitted. The corners of Merlin's mouth twitched upwards. "And you should know that if, for any reason, you ever need to take some time off… I'm not going to stop you. I trust you Merlin, and if something's important enough to stop you from working, I won't question that decision. Unless you're in the tavern!" he added hastily, anxious that the servant would take advantage of his candid speech to tease him about showing his feelings.

Merlin chuckled weakly.

"Thank you, Arthur. I appreciate it. And… if there's ever a time when I can't be here to… to protect you… just be careful." The King's eyebrows rose slightly at his servant's words of caution, but he nodded.

"Come on", he said gruffly, ducking to place one of Merlin's arms around his shoulders. "Better get you to Gaius."

For once in his life, Merlin didn't protest. Instead, he allowed Arthur to guide him towards the physician's chambers, content to rely upon his friend as Arthur had relied upon him so many times before. They were, after all, two sides of the same coin, and they would always rely upon one another in times of trouble.

…..

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