Chapter Four
He remembered the nightmare only vaguely. Something to do with Merlin. He distantly remembered the raven's fingers slipping from his grasp. His life slipping away. But then he woke, gasping; panicked and pale, and it took a few well placed calming breaths of his own to reassure himself of the sight that Merlin was still there, his chest still rising and falling, still with his hand still curled into his own.
Still alive.
He reached out a careful hand, and pushed the dark, sweat slicked hair from Merlin's forehead. Resting his palm there, Arthur knew he was still burning up. With a loud sigh, and a "What am I going to do with you Merlin?", he looked around for Gaius.
The old man was sleeping now, in the chair opposite him, on the other side of Merlin's bed. Arthur casually carded his fingers through Merlin's hair, the strands soft and damp as they slipped over his skin. If he still had the fever, Arthur knew he needed a damp cloth to place on his forehead. With one last touch, he drew his hand back and made to stand up. That was the moment Gwen came bustling in, looking tired and worn, depositing a bucket of water by his side, and handing him a cloth. Arthur picked it up, and laced his fingers with Merlin's once more, as he dipped it and lay it on the raven's fevered forehead.
"Sorry, had to get some more cold water, did I wake you?" Arthur shook his head, tightening his grip on Merlin's hand, as if to pull him back into the world via it. Gwen gave him a concerned look, and anxiously hovered by Merlin's side. "He's not looking much better, is he?" She bit her lip.
No.
No, Merlin was not looking better at all. His skin was white and waxy, a sheen of sweat covering it. His eyes were ringed by dark circles and his hair was plastered to his head in a manner much unlike its usual style. Each breath he took was shallow and shaky and there was blood beginning to seep through his bandages again. They needed replacing. Arthurs exhale became a long sigh.
"He'll get better Gwen, he'll be fine."
Gwen have him her best hopeful smile and moved her hand to cover his where it clutched the pale skeletal form of Merlin's.
Most of the day passed relatively the same as last night. Gaius woke and hovered about with Gwen. Changing bandages, laying cool cloths on Merlin's forehead, and helping him to drink the tinticures Gaius prepared. It was midday when the boy's fever finally broke. And the look of relief of the old physician's face sent waves of hope straight to the young prince's heart.
Merlin was recovering right?
But he had still not woken by nightfall. Gaius reassured him it was for the best. His tinitcures contained a sleeping draught, keeping the boy in his comatose state. He was in no pain like this – Gaius said. He would heal better. Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Arthur had another nightmare that night, and woke sweating and shaking in his chair, having refused to leave his friends side. His back ached from sitting still for so long. He had been running in the dream running towards something just out of his reach, unsure what he was running for, until he spotted the mop of dark hair and the flash of those blue eyes running just ahead of him. But then Merlin was gone, and he was running alone. And then there was a cliff he never saw and he was falling into wakefulness.
It was only a dream. He reminded himself. Merlin's still here. Still beside him. Still Alive.
Arthur forced his breaths to become even, and his heart to stop pounding, and he looked down at the boy, weak and pale on the bed, and sighed.
Merlin didn't deserve this.
But he's got magic.
No one deserved this.
"Come on Merlin... get better. Please. You have to get better..."