998 NE, Summer

The second time was a quiet, hot day.

"Dark One take this heat, Merlin. It's too hot to think," said Arthur. "I have the afternoon free--I'm going down to the river for a swim. Pack some food and sweet wine."

They were at one of the smaller estates, out from the city of Tear. There was little to do. Training with the Defenders had been put off in the heat, and Arthur grew restless with the lengthening day, giving Merlin strange looks when he loosened his clothing and drew off his kerchief.

"Did you want a change of clothes, my Lord?" asked Merlin. "Perhaps something with which to dry yourself?"

"Yes, yes. Now come; we haven't all day."

The horse was hot and fluid beneath Merlin, making him hotter for all that the soft canter created a false breeze. Sweat slid down his back and he thought longingly of the water, aware that Arthur would want him to set the food while he himself bathed.

Merlin helped Arthur take off his clothing, Arthur's shirt sticking to his skin with sweat. His fingers brushed over Arthur's skin as he pulled the fabric away, and he swallowed, turning aside with it, and watched the flex of muscles of Arthur's taut back as he walked to the bank. He turned back to the horses, mouth dry, and made certain they were fast. He sat beneath a tree as Arthur swam out further into the river, its waters growing clearer away from the muddy edge.

"Come, Merlin!"

At first he shook his head, claiming to not like the water, for he knew Arthur would likely attempt to drown him in a prank or some such, until Arthur's playful invitations took on a more authoritative edge.

"I'll be covered in mud when we come out of the water, Sire," said Merlin, as he carefully took his clothing off and placed it far from the muddy bank. "You may have spare clothing and drying cloths, but I'll have to make do." When no comment was quickly forthcoming he looked over at Arthur, who was silent and watching him keenly. He felt a measure of self-consciousness as he walked through down the bank, mud squishing up through his toes, and landed with a splash next to Arthur.

"You'll do what I say, Merlin, and less complaints while about it."

As soon as he was fully immersed, true to form, Arthur tried to dunk him. Merlin struggled in an attempt to get away, wrestling against Arthur's slippery body, all too conscious of his cock stiffening. Arthur stilled against him and then let him go, pushing away.

"What?" Merlin pushed his wet hair away from his face and looked for Arthur, hoping he hadn't noticed Merlin's improper reaction. He was swimming out further into the river. "I'm not following you out there," he called out, heart in throat, watching for a moment until his blood calmed, then lay floating on his back. No cloud could be seen from horizon to horizon, the blue of it stark and fiery, and he closed his eyes to feel the cool flow of water against his skin.

He'd been growing increasingly aware of Arthur over the past year, since he'd been made his manservant. He'd seen the young Lord from afar until then, thought idly of being made his servant, asking him if Arthur needing anything, and having him say, commandingly, to go to his knees and serve him. Reality was far worse, undressing him, having him right there before him, and knowing he couldn't touch the object of his imagination.

Merlin could hear a faint sound of splashing, and lifted himself upright to look out at the river. "Sire? Arthur?" Arthur was far out in the river, swimming towards the bank, hard, but wasn't coming any closer. Even from where Merlin was he could see the swirl of discoloured water around him, dragging Arthur out further into the river. He could almost see him being drawn out into the maze swampland of the Fingers of the Dragon, out into the Sea of Storms.

Merlin started to swim out, but stopped himself and made for the banks. If he could get to the estate, they could send someone downriver to get a boat out to save him. When he got to the banks he stared out at the waters, Arthur's form growing smaller. His heart clenched in fear and palms grew clammy. He wouldn't be able to get there in time. His skin prickled. He could almost hear Arthur's laboured breathing and the splashing of his arms. He could see the swirling waters. The air grew too bright and he blinked the sun out of his eyes.

When he could see again, the swirling of the waters had changed and Arthur seemed to be being propelled towards the bank at a rapid speed. Currents don't change like that, he thought, and then scrambled down to meet Arthur at the edge.

"Sire! What happened?" Merlin held out a drying cloth for him, feeling guilty about noticing Arthur's strong body so soon after he was nearly swept out to sea.

Arthur looked at him blankly for a moment. "The Dark One's touch! I've never seen currents like that," he said. "I've had enough of swimming, Merlin. We'll return to the estate."

Merlin looked out at the suddenly calm waters and shivered despite the heat.

Two days later Merlin was abed, feverous and nauseated, while Arthur muttered about recurring illnesses and brain fever. He called for the village healer, pacing the chamber until he arrived. All of the man's usual recourse did nothing, and he pressed a cool compress to Merlin's forehead.

"Have him bathed every hour," said the healer. "It will bring down the fever, and if he's lucky, he will still have use of his mind after it breaks. Every hour, with compresses in between."

"Useless manservant," Arthur said, putting a cool cloth over Merlin's fevered eyes. "You should be attending me." His manner was gentle despite his words, and he cooled Merlin until a servant came to take over. He appeared later in the day to see Merlin twist uncomfortably on the sweat-sodden bedding.

"Blood and ashes," swore Arthur, and stormed out, calling angrily for someone to change the sheets.

Within a day Merlin was up like he'd never fallen ill at all.