Hello again! I hope everyone likes Merlin fics. Forgive me for any mistakes; I haven't written any fic in ages because of life, but here I am! I would love to hear from everyone, and as always, thanks for reading.
A New Day is But Some Breaths Away
The sorcerer looked like every other sorcerer that terrorized Camelot, yet this one was clever. He had struck when it was just Arthur and Merlin alone on an early-morning hunting expedition. Arthur cursed himself, Merlin, fate, his father, and anything else that came to mind when he comprehended that this man wasn't a bumbling fool who could easily be tricked. The sorcerer had him pinned up against a tree and Merlin pinned up against another tree, all without having a hand on either one of them. Arthur stole a glance at Merlin. He didn't seem frightened, but they had encountered this type of trouble on multiple occasions. In fact, his manservant's face was bored more than anything. Arthur chuckled to himself. Maybe the sorcerer unleashing a rant on the unfairness of Camelot's laws against magic would entertain Merlin.
"The crown prince and his manservant," the sorcerer drawled, his blue eyes gleaming with the promise of menace. Arthur just sighed. This was a near-weekly occurrence. Nobody had succeeded in killing him or Merlin yet, and this sorcerer certainly wouldn't. "It's been a long time since I've seen you two." Despite his cockiness, Arthur felt a chill run down his spine. Something about the man's tone scared him. "How can I play with you two?" Arthur remained silent, but glanced towards Merlin. The sorcerer followed his gaze, and when his eyes landed on Merlin, a manic grin lit up his pale, angular face. "Oh, this will be a fun game. My prince, you will run, and you will cry, and eventually, when you are exhausted and all of your tears are gone, you will lose something you never even knew that you had."
"What are you speaking of?" Arthur asked, unable to hold off his question.
The sorcerer quirked his eyebrows. "Have a nice week, Arthur Pendragon." With that, he let out a string of unintelligable words, most likely magic, that seemed to twist and contort in the open forest air. Arthur scrunched his eyes shut and waited for a curse to take effect, but sll he heard was a strangled shout. "Merlin!" His eyes snapped open. The sorcerer was gone and he could move, but Merlin was in a crumpled heap, his eyes shut and his face pale. Arthur ran to Merlin and snatched his limp wrist, frantically feeling for a pulse. When a steady thump pounded against his callused fingers, he breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever the sorcerer had done, Merlin was not dead, and if Arthur had anything to do with it, he would remain not dead. While he was a hopeless servant, he was a friend. Arthur fet something in his chest stir when he gently lifted Merlin onto his horse and then climbed onto the animal himself, wrapping a strong arm around Merlin's chest. He had to get Merlin back to Camelot.
Gaius would know what to do.
"Gaius!" Arthur shouted as he entered the physician's chambers. He had Merlin slung over his shoulder in an awkward carry, and he set him down with great care on the bed. Gaius appeared from a wing of the chamber, a concerned expression crossing his aged face when he saw Merlin's unconscious form.
"Sire?" he questioned, his tone inquiring what he couldn't bring himself to say aloud.
"He's alive, Gaius. We met a sorcerer in the woods, and he said some words and Merlin just crumpled. I think it was a curse."
"I see. Did he say anything else?" Gaius was checking Merlin's pulse as he spoke, and pushed some of the boy's dark hair from his eyes.
"He said, 'Have a nice week,' and then left," Arthur repeated. "But that can't mean anything."
Gaius stopped what he was doing to look Arthur in the eye. "Are you sure that is exactly what he said?"
"My hearing is just fine, Gaius."
The physician studied him gravely. "I'm afraid that the sorcerer in question has put a very serious curse on Merlin. It's called the Vomica of Mortifer Hora, if I am correct, and I haven't seen it since before the ban on magic arose."
"What does that mean?" Arthur looked at Merlin, and resisted the urge to put a protective hand on Merlin's chest.
"It means that Merlin only has one week to live. There is a curse on him, slowly sucking the life from him like a leech would suck blood, and it will take a week to happen. It is a terrible way to die. The first few days, the person feels normal, but by the fourth day, the person is in extreme pain. On the last day, in his or her last hour, the person is in extreme pain and has lost all sense of their personality."
Arthur's throat was sandpaper, rough and unforgiving in texture. His heart raced. "It that what will happen to Merlin?" he asked, trying to remain calm like a good prince would.
"Yes."
"A cure." It was a demand, one conjured due to fear and necessity, and answering no wasn't an option.
"There is none. The only way it can be reversed is the caster lifting it from the cursed person. You would need to find the sorcerer."
"Consider it done." If Gaius had said that it would've saved Merlin, Arthur would have dragged the sun and the moon across the sky with his bare hands. He walked from the room, ready to assemble a search team.
"Arthur?" The prince turned at the sound of Gaius' voice. "He will need a friend to look after him when..." Gaius didn't finish the sentence, yet Arthur understood.
"Of course."
"Absolutely not!" Uther growled at Arthur from his throne. After leaving Gaius' chambers, he had gone directly to his father to request permission to seek out the sorcerer with the assistance of a few select knights. They would leave as soon as they had permission, despite that it was well after dinner time. He had thrown together a bag with some provisions and gathered his choice team before going into the throne room, and had presented his case as calmly and with as much authority as his state of mind would allow, but Uther was adamant.
"But Father, I have to! Merlin has saved my life on multiple occasions, and he's a valued member of the royal household!" Arthur exclaimed, his heart dropping to his feet. "I must find this sorcerer!"
"You know how I feel about magic, and your manservant is very loyal, but you must be glad that it wasn't you that got cursed. I am sorry about your servant, but he can be replaced. I will not have you going on some wild goose chase and getting yourself killed in a futile attempt to save a servant. If this curse is as fatal as you say, then you must stay away from the woods."
Arthur opened his mouth, but Uther cut him off with a threatening stare. "Do not make me lock you away, Arthur. Promise me you won't leave Camelot."
Arthur felt as if he were about to snap into two pieces. "No!" he hissed. With that, he stormed from the throne room, his troop of knights following warily. Once they had made it a ways down the corridor, Arthur turned on his heel so that he could face the nights.
"My father never said anything about you all leaving the castle. Go now, and find the sorcerer. He is tall and angular, with long white hair and bright green eyes. He is pale, and very powerful. Be careful. You may harm him, but bring him alive. Do you understand? He is only of use to us alive," Arthur instructed his knights. "I see great careers and long futures in this kingdom for al who return victorious." Without another word, he stormed off to his chambers to retire for the night. Although he logically knew that Merlin wouldn't be there to prepare him for bed, he was disappointed when he wasn't greeted with a wry remark about his weight or intelligence. He undressed himself and slipped into bed, trying his best to kill the dread and fear that was blossoming in his core. He couldn't lose Merlin.
He wouldn't.
"Rise and shine!" Merlin's voice rang out as clear as a sparkling lake, and sunshine splashed across Arthur's face. He groaned and turned into the pillow, ready to fire back a snarky remark, but then he remembered the previous day. He sat upright and stared at Merlin. He didn't look any worse for the wear, just a bit tired. The smile he was giving Arthur was the same as it was any other day, and Arthur felt something pull at his heart.
"But you're dying," Arthur blurted out. "That sorcerer only gave you one week to live."
"Good morning to you too, sire," he chuckled, and set about laying out Arthur's clothes for the day. Arthur stared at him incredulously from the bed.
"Gaius said that you only have a week to live. You need to rest," Arthur said. Merlin froze for a moment, and then set back about his work.
"If I only have a week, rest won't do me any good," Merlin said in a cheery voice that wasn't decent for the subject. "And from what Gaius says, I only have about four good days left. I feel fine right now, and I intend to take advantage of that. I'd like to live my life exactly how I live it everyday."
"I sent knights out to look for the sorcerer," Arthur announced. "They'll bring him back and I'll force him to cure you." He wanted to brush Merlin's hair out of his eyes and tell him that everything would get fixed, yet Merlin didn't even look as if he needed that to be done.
"I don't think there's anything you can do for me, Arthur. I have less than a week." Merlin's face was calm, almost passive, but other than that, he looked exactly like himself. Arthur couldn't wrap his head around it. Merlin should be angry, he should be livid, he should be angry at Arthur for his being stupid enough to let him get cursed by a renegade sorcerer, yet here he was, acting as if they had all of the time in the world.
"Merlin, I..."
"Arthur." Merlin's voice was almost tender, and Arthur was knocked off-balance because of the tone. "Can we not talk about this any more? Please?"
"Stubborn idiot," Arthur grumbled as he rose from his bed.
"Prat," Merlin fired back with a smile. Arthur couldn't bring himself to return it and ate the breakfast Merlin had set on his table. It tasted like sawdust and death.
The day passed without any mention of the running hourglass that was Merlin's life, as did the second day of the week.
Arthur felt as if he was about to go insane.
Merlin was exactly as he was at any other time around other people. He insulted at Arthur, smiled and laughed with Gwen, and talked with Gaius. He brought Arthur his food and assisted him and was an awful servant. It was evident that novody but Arthur, Merlin, Uther, and Gaius knew of the curse. Each day, Arthur waited for the knights to return with the sorcerer in tow, but nothing happened. Everything was perfectly normal. Arthur would have thought that Merlin had even forgotten about the curse if it wasn't for the nighttime excursions to the turrets.
The first night, when Merlin had left his chambers, he had followed the servant through the winding staircases and hallways of the castle, expecting him to go straight to Gaius', yet Merlin had led him on a very different path. He had ended up at the uppermost turret of Camelot's great castle. Merlin sat atop the railing, precariously yet flawlessly balanced all at the same time. For a dreadful moment, Arthur had thought that Merlin was going to leap to his death, but after nearly half an hour had passed, Arthur's fears were soothed. Merlin was just there to relax and look over the kingdom. Arthur, not wanting to startle Merlin, slipped away quietly.
On the second day, Merlin still showed no signs of his swift-coming demise, and despite Arthur's most desperate hopes, the knights had not reappeared. The entire day, Arthur tried to slip in the conversation that he knew needed to happen about the curse, but Merlin would quickly turn the subject away from the topic, or scurry from the room, leaving Arthur to his frustration. That night, Arthur followed Merlin to the turrets again. He contemplated revealing himself, but found that he couldn't disturb Merlin's peacefulness.
Arthur couldn't take it any more by the third night. He couldn't take the heavy unsaid words that hung over the pair of them like smoke from a forest fire, making lives stuffy and miserable. He couldn't take the absolute tranquility of Merlin's features, the expression of a man who had accepted his death. Merlin should have been ranting, he should have been angry, and he should have been grieving. He was dying. However, he wasn't doing anything that Arthur expected, and it was making the prince crazy. If anything, he was a more competent servant than ever, always mindful of the time and Arthur's needs.
Arthur wanted his Merlin back, but more than anything, he wanted to know what was going on in Merlin's head. He seemed so tranquil and at peace for somebody who was dying slowly, and Arthur couldn't stand seeing it. He didn't want Merlin to be in pain, but he wanted Merlin to know that he could be upset, so on the third night of following Merlin up to the turrets, he emerged from the shadows with all the brashness of his typical personality.
"Trying to count the stars? I don't even know if you can count how many fingers you have, Merlin," Arthur said without any real bite in his voice, laying a hand on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin flinched and looked up at him, surprise etched on his face.
"How did you find me?" he asked incredulously as Arthur perched himself on the railing parallel to him. Arthur waited for a moment before answering. He knew now why Merlin enjoyed going to the turrets. The view was breathtaking. He could see every crevice and corner of the kingdom, the glow of the evening lanterns, and could hear the soft nighttime murmurs of his people. He looked at Merlin. The moonlight illuminated his pale face, and his light blue eyes seemed transparent in the milky light.
"I've been following you up here the past few nights," Arthur said, sighing when Merlin snorted in annoyance.
"I can't have any privacy, can I?"
"Merlin, we have to talk about this!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Talk about what, Arthur?" Merlin said shakily. He looked at Arthur full-on, and Arthur inhaled sharply. Merlin had avoided looking at him for the past few days, but now, now that he could see Merlin's entire face, he saw the exhaustion, the paleness, the dark circles under Merlin's eyes. He looked like a dead man walking, which Arthur supposed that he was. Actually, he was more like a fragile hourglass, sand trickling to the base steadily.
"The fact that you're dying," Arthur started quietly, "because some crazy sorcerer put a curse on you."
"I know that I'm dying," Merlin said briskly. "I've known for three days, and so have you, but I didn't want to dwell on it. Today was probably my last good day. Gaius said that the symptoms start four days in, so my best guess is that sometime tomorrow I'll start... you know. Showing symptoms." Merlin chuckled. "I told you that nothing good comes from hunting, prat."
"I have knights out looking for the sorcerer," Arthur blurted out. "If they find him, they'll bring him back and And I know Gaius is working as hard as he can to find something to help you. Merlin, nobody wants to stand by and watch you die. " Arthur ran a hand over his face. "Especially not me," he said quietly. He studied Merlin. The servant was biting down on his lip hard, and Arthur noted how his eyes had brightened.
"Merlin. I won't just sit back and watch you die. I'll try my best to fight it, but if we can't stop this, then I won't leave you to die alone. That sorcerer... all magic is evil."
Merlin stayed quiet and looked down at his lap sorrowfully. "I only have four days left," he said quietly. "I probably won't even be myself for the last few days." He looked up, and his gaze pierced Arthur like a silver blade. "I regret how much I wasn't able to do," he said, trying for a casual tone. "There's something I should tell you, though."
"Go ahead."
Merlin hesitated and fiddled with his fingers. "Um... I... I have...you'll have a decent servant, and I suppose I'll get quite a few days off," Merlin blurted out in a hurry.
"Do keep up, Merlin. You're talking like you're dead already." Something seemed off, but Arthur replied shakily, tossing his head back in an effort to contain his tears.
"Aren't I? I can feel the curse, Arthur, it's spreading through me. In less than a week, you'll have a different manservant, and I'll be dead." For the first time, Arthur heard fear and anger in Merlin's voice. "I regret a lot that I've done and regret the things I haven't done." He stared straight at Arthur, and the prince felt chills travel down his spine.
"What do you have to regret?" Arthur asked. Merlin looked as if he were considering saying something big, but at the last moment, he looked away from Arthur and to the scenery of Camelot.
"Nothing really."
Arthur sighed. The tears were threatening to spill over. "What would you like, Merlin? Anything that Camelot has to offer is yours, just say the word. My father won't argue."
"I've only ever wanted two things, Arthur, and that is for Camelot to be safe and for you to be safe. I will be your servant until the day I die." Merlin laughed, and a tear slipped down his cheek. "I think I am a happy man."
Arthur's tears escaped as he smiled, watching Merlin laugh in the moonlight. "There will never be anyone like you, Merlin. You're a puzzle."
Merlin sobered up, and gave Arthur a smile that went straight to his heart. "I suppose I'm a bit scared," he admitted in an almost childlike manner.
"So am I," Arthur whispered. "So am I, Merlin." His hand found Merlin's clumsily, and Merlin squeezed his hand like a lifeline. They stayed like that until all of the kingdom lights were out and every citizen had gone to bed.
"Good morning, sire!" Merlin chimed the next morning. It was later than when Arthur usually woke up. The seriousness and sincerity of the previous night was gone; Merlin's facade was back in place. Arthur sat up quickly in order to get a glance of Merlin. He gasped at what he saw. The servant's face was drawn and pale, and the circles under his eyes resembled purple saucers.
"Why the hell are you not in bed?" he hissed. Merlin chuckled.
"I look worse than I feel," Merlin said, although his voice was husky and unconvincing.
Arthur snorted in disbelief. "You are not doing anything today." He rose from bed, walked behind his dressing screen, and began undressing. Merlin had already flipped his clothes over the screen, and as Arthur laced up his pants, Merlin exhaled airily.
"I don't want to be in bed until I have to be," he said almost too quietly for Arthur to hear. A soft sniffle followed his words.
"I understand. But really, how do you feel?" Arthur waited for a response as he yanked a red tunic over his head. When there was no response, Arthur froze. "Merlin?" He peeked out from behind the screen, and faltered at the scene he saw.
Merlin was in a crumpled heap on the floor, taking ragged breaths, sweating as if he were hunting in the middle of July, and his face was as milky as the moonlight they had sat in the night before. Arthur sank to his knees beside his fallen friend. "Merlin!" he shouted, shaking him. A passing servant heard his call, and poked her head in. Arthur heard the creak of the door and called, "Get Gaius! Hurry!"
He lifted Merlin into his own bed and sat down beside him.
So it had begun.
"Isn't there something you can do for him?" Arthur pleaded Gaius as Merlin whimpered for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour. "He's in pain!"
"Sire, I've tried everything I could to relieve the pain, but it seems that it is in the nature of the curse to turn pain remedies into sources of extra pain for the victim. This is not going to be a pretty death." Gaius had confirmed everything Arthur had already known almost an hour ago: the curse was growing into its own and taking over Merlin's body. Now, it seemed as if it was more than just a death sentence. The curse was torture. Nothing helped Merlin, nothing brought his fever down, and everything that was supposed to help harmed. All Arthur and Gaius could do was watch.
"I have some other patients to tend to, but I will be back soon. Can you stay with him?"
"He won't be alone, Gaius, not at all for these three days," Arthur assured him, and the physician laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"Thank you, sire." He left the room, leaving Arthur with only his thoughts for company.
The time ticked by like molasses dripped from a bottle - slowly and thickly, without any real time, purpose, or promise of anything faster. Time was drowning Arthur and yet it was all he had. It seemed as if all that was real was Merlin, who was trembling and shaking life a young sapling being grown by great winds.
After a couple hours, he couldn't stand the silence for any longer. "I remember the first day we met, you called me a friend. I... I was different back then. I never would have called a common person a friend. But now... I am proud to call you my friend Merlin. And I would have loved to see what else you could have been," Arthur murmured gently, cradling Merlin's clammy hand in his. He kept speaking. He spoke of their adventures together, and insulted Merlin throughout his stories. He regaled Merlin's unconscious form with stories of their adventures and provided details that he might have never heard. He spoke well into the night, and when the moon was high in the sky, he crawled into bed next to Merlin without a second thought. The servant's breathing had somewhat even, and he didn't cry out with pain so much.
Arthur felt as if he were losing an entire world that he hadn't even known that he had had. He felt a tear slip down his cheek as he pressed a gentle kiss to Merlin's fevered forehead.
The fifth day slipped by uneventfully. Merlin was still unconsious, and Uther had yelled at Arthur for shirking his duties in order to stay by Merlin's bedside, but the armies of all of Albion would not have distracted Arthur. He spoke to Merlin all day, only stopping when Gaius had to check on Merlin or his throat was so dry that he couldn't form proper sentences. At night, he held Merlin in his arms. He couldn't sleep. Instead, he cursed everything that came to mind.
On the sixth day, everything went to Hell.
Merlin's breaths were like small puffs of wind, not powerful enough to do anything but be present. He shook and moaned, and his fever was so high that it would have burned him from the inside out if it had not been of magical nature.
Merlin had not been conscious for two days. He was delirious, mumbling nonsense in his sleep. Gaius was sitting vigil with Arthur, now, and the prince couldn't find any words to say to Merlin. Gaius looked nervous and fidgeted endlessly.
"Sire, perhaps we should move him to his own chambers so I can treat him better," Gaius suggested after Merlin had let off his latest string of jibberish at the end of the sixth day
"There's nothing you can do for him, Gaius. He should have the most comfortable bed in the palace," Arthur said dryly. There was no argument there. Merlin was staying exactly where he was.
"Sire, I really think that -" Before Gaius could finish his sentence, Merlin shouted a long strand of words that meant nothing to Arthur, but Gaius gasped. Arthur turned around. Smoke was seeping from his fire and twisting and contorting into different magical shapes. Dragons, griffins, and serpents made of smoke danced in the prince's room. Arthur tore his eyes away from the figures and looked at Merlin. Something inside of him broke upon seeing him.
His eyes were opened, unfocused, unseeing, and pure gold, the same color as the shiny coins Arthur carried in his pocket. Just as quickly as they had opened, Merlin's eyes snapped shut and the smoke returned to its original form, but Arthur couldn't unsee the gold and the smoke figures.
"Magic," he hissed, leaping from his spot on the bed. Gaius wouldn't meet his eye. "Tell me that is a side effect of the curse. Tell me that Merlin is NOT a sorcerer!" Arthur roared, feeling his anger surge.
"Sire, I -" Gaius started, but Arthur wouldn't listen.
"He's been lying to me since the beginning," Arthur hissed. "And he didn't even tell me when he had a death sentence!"
"Sire, he planed to tell you," Gaius begged, but Arthur ignored him.
"He will be buried with no honors. Let me know when he passes," Arthur ordered coolly, and stormed from the room. Magic. Magic. Magic. The word pounded through his head, taunting him and reverberating with every step he took.
At midnight on the seventh day, Arthur sat alone on the turrets, his hand feeling strangely empty. He stared up at the moon, his heart hurting violently.
Merlin was magic.
It took Arthur hours before he could even start processing what had happened.
He had known all along that there was something different about Merlin, yet he hadn't been able to place it. He thought of all the rock slides, all of the accidents that his enemies seemed to have, and all of the impossible escapes the pair of them had had. Everything made sense.
Merlin was dying.
In less than twenty-four hours, Merlin would be gone for good. Executing him would be pointless, letting his father know would make no sense. He would be gone, nothing but a memory in the mind of those who had known him because of magic. Nothing made sense.
Arthur thought of all of the opportunities Merlin had to kill him every day and snorted. Merlin couldn't be an assasin. The realization hit him like a perfectly shot arrow. Magic or not, he knew that Merlin would never, ever harm him. Merlin would have grown old with him, advised him, been his servant forever, and Arthur knew it.
Magic or not, Merlin was Merlin.
Merlin. He loved Merlin.
Merlin was dying. Alone. He had promised Merlin that he wouldn't let him die alone.
He sprang from his seated position and dashed back to his chambers.
Arthur entered his room tentatively. Gaius was gone, and Merlin was lying propped up against a mountain of pillows. Awake.
"Arthur," Merlin whispered fearfully. Arthur winced. His voice was ghostly and scared, two things he never would have associated with Merlin. "Gaius told me that... that I revealed my magic," he choked out. "It's fine if you hate me."
"I could never hate you," Arthur murmured, approaching the bed. "Merlin, I tried, but you told me once that you had two goals, to see Camelot safe and to see me safe. Those are not the words of a traitor." He sat down next to Merlin and took his hand.
"I don't have much time left, but I wanted to apologize. For not telling you. I wanted to, I was going to, but I didn't want to be alone." Merlin's breaths were frantic gasps, and Arthur wanted more than anything else to be able to breathe for him, to pump air into his lungs with his bare hands.
"Don't apologize."
"Gaius says you've been here the entire time?" Merlin questioned tentatively.
"Where else would I be, Merlin?" Arthur asked, going for teasing but falling flat. "God, Merlin, why does this have to be you?"
"I'm just glad it wasn't you," Merlin whispered, and Arthur was done for. Tears slid down his cheeks freely, and he pressed a kiss to Merlin's lips. His lips were warm despite the rest of his body being clammy, and he cupped a hand under Merlin's dark hair. The kiss was chaste and pure, and was everything Arthur could have ever imagined. When he pulled back, he wiped his tears away and gave Merlin a shaky smile.
"I think I love you," he whispered.
"And I, Arthur Pendragon..." Merlin began, but in the middle of his sentence, he lost consciousness. Arthur bowed his head and counted each breath Merlin took.
There wasn't much time left.
"So you feel pain, Arthur Pendragon," a chilly voice rang out from behind Arthur, and Arthur yanked his gaze away from Merlin. He gasped in surprise and with anger upon laying his eye upon the speaker. It was the white-haired sorcerer from the woods, standing in the middle of his chambers like it belonged to him.
Arthur drew his sword, but the sorcerer merely laughed.
"So you feel desperation, and all over a warlock. Did you love him?" The sorcerer's gaze was scrutinizing. "We magic-users loved our families to. Back in the day, he would've been burned at the stake. You would have listened to his screams as the flames cooked him alive."
"Stop it," Arthur almost begged. "You did this. You took him away."
"He doesn't have much time left. Only a few minutes, if I'm correct. This is what you would have chosen for him had he had told you the truth. A slow death."
Arthur felt his fingers and toes go numb, and his sword clattered to the ground. He looked the sorcerer in the eye. "I love Merlin more than I hate magic. If he had revealed his magic to me at any time in the past, I would have been angered, but by the lies more than anything. I would never, ever subject him to this!" Arthur roared. "Never!"
The sorcerer narrowed his eyes. "Say that again."
"Never would I kill Merlin. I love him more than I hate magic."
The sorcerer nodded. "He has one minute. Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon." With that, the sorcerer vanished into thin air.
"NO!" Arthur rushed forward. "Come back! Give him back. Fix this! I'm sorry!" He whipped around, counting the seconds in his head. The seconds were flying by, crumbling around him faster than he could control.
He watched desperately as Merlin drew his last breaths.
Three.
Two.
One.
Zero.
Merlin drew another breath.
Arthur gasped. Why was Merlin still breathing?
Suddenly, the color returned to Merlin's cheeks, and he inhaled deeply before shooting straight up into a sitting position. He wasn't sweating anymore, the exhaustion was gone, and if anything, he looked healthier than ever. He panted and ran his hands through his hair, and Arthur leapt back.
"Arthur?" Merlin asked, and Arthur stared at him with wide eyes. "Arthur, the sorcerer was in my head. He said something about love curing all hate?"
Arthur laughed almost hysterically. Nothing made sense, but at the same time, everything made sense. The sorcerer had given Merlin back to him. He stumbled to the bed and gathered Merlin into an embrace. He was so, so lucky, he thought, as Merlin exhaled and leaned against Arthur.
"I love you," Merlin whispered. "I never got to finish my sentence."
Arthur grinned and pressed his lips to Merlin's forehead. Everything was going to be okay.
Hope everyone liked it! Have a great week, and I hope that you find time to do something that makes you happy in your schedule. I know that writing this made me happy, so I hope this was enjoyable to read.