He tried not to let the dreams effect him while he was awake, but failed. He tried not to let his lack of sleep effect his training, his interactions with his father, his health, but failed again. He was slow in training. Still exceptional, and he still surpassed all foe, but he felt the repercussions of the movement more. In his bones. Exhausting him.

Exhausting him, but still he could not sleep a full night through. And, losing appetite, he began to pallor. Merlin started to bug him, pestering for information.

What's wrong? You've barely eaten! Why are you looking at me like that? It's late, Arthur, go to sleep.

He began to sit and watch Arthur as he ate, only leaving, with a small smile, once he had swallowed every bite.

Arthur contented himself, while Merlin watched him eat, by watching Merlin. He disconnectedly allowed his eyes to search the hands, up the arms and to the neck, lingering there as he studied the pale skin, almost entirely covered by that damn red neckerchief. And eventually his eyes would wander their way to the jaw, the cheekbones, the eyes. The lips. And usually that was where his brain would click back into place, and he would avert his eyes tersely, swallow his last few bites, and look back to Merlin. Who would always offer a small smile, lips parted slightly, while Arthur barked orders.

Completely aware of the way Merlins eyes followed him, and the shadow of worry behind them, of fear. It was wearying. It was intriguing.

Finally, growing irritated with Merlins prodding, he sought Gaius.

"Sire." The older man greeted him formally, not looking up from his work. "Merlin isn't here right now, I'm afraid, though I'll let him know you were looking for him if you'd like."

"I'm not looking for Merlin, Gaius." Arthur spoke curtly. The other man looked up, attention sliding over to him. He continued, "I've come to seek your… medical council." He maintained a strictly formal tone.

Gaius raised an old, white, eyebrow. "What ails you, sire?"

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it. He cast his eyes downwards momentarily and cleared his throat. Tried to find the right words. He'd avoided this conversation -this situation- his whole life. To say the things that needed saying. To express how weak and scared the dreams made him.

He didn't want to say it. But he knew that by not doing everything he could to end the dreams, he was only making himself weaker.

So he pulled his eyes back up to Gaius and spoke in a level voice, "Nightly terrors."

If Gaius was surprised, he didn't show us. Merely nodded and studied Arthurs pale face. "How long have you been afflicted, my lord?" He turned towards a small cabinet, opening it to reveal inside vial upon vial or shimmering liquids.

Arthur hesitated for only a moment before answering. "When I was 14, or thereabouts." Pausing, he furrowed his brow. "But lately they've been… worse." He couldn't explain, but once he'd started talking he could feel the tug to tell more. To relieve more, reveal everything. Instead, he kept his mouth firmly shut and watched as Gaius searched the cabinet, selecting a vial. Unable to believe that it was so simple. That this simple vial could be the end of it.

As Arthur reached for the vial, the white haired man paused. Then, quietly. "What plagues you, Arthur?" Looking into deep blue eyes, Arthur saw a glimmer of curiosity, concern, underneath the stout professionalism. It made him want to talk. To give in.

Every night I see him die.

Rather than that, he smiled curtly. "They're only nightmares, Gaius."

DON'T HATE ME.
i hate this chapter. my writing style and the words and the OOC-ness of it all i just don't know
i'm sorry.
the next few are better/i think/
i love you for reading.