Sunlight was streaming in through the windows, laughter echoing in the streets outside, but no shred of cheer dared enter the crown prince's bed chambers. Arthur sat at his desk, a book open in front of him, and his face was pale as milk, all the color having drained from it over an hour ago and none having found its way back. His shaking fingers had long since stopped turning the yellowed pages of the old tome, resigning themselves to the fact that there would be nothing new or welcoming farther in. Truly, his eyes were not even seeing the pages anymore. They were looking into the past, into all of the seemingly incredible, impossible things that had happened, all of the miracles that Camelot had been given, and seeing them for the first time for what they were. Lies.
His nerves were so shot that, when his door was flung open, he leapt to his feet so fast that he knocked over his chair. Guinevere was in the doorway, eyes bright and chest heaving.
"Merlin's awake," she panted.
Arthur didn't know what to do or how to feel, but Guinevere did not notice his hesitation because she had already raced out again, most likely to return to the physician's quarters. He stood at his desk, staring out the doorway after her, past her, and on to where he knew the servant boy was laying, probably still bone white, but wearing that stupid grin off his face. The servant boy who wasn't a servant boy. The prince swallowed thickly, glanced down at the book, and then slammed it shut, stuffing it unceremoniously into the messenger bag from which it had fallen. Not bothering to right his upended chair, he strode out of his chambers, the door swinging shut loudly behind him.
People he passed in the corridors called greetings, and he answered them mechanically, not even sure what he was saying but sure that it was idle and useless chatter. The heels of his boots clicked on the stone floor as they had the previous night, but they did not echo amidst all the other noise caused in the late morning castle bustle. The bag was clutched in his hands, his grip so tight that his knuckles threatened to break clean through the skin, and he almost wished they would. The pain would be a welcome distraction.
However, no wish of pain made the jaunt to Gaius' quarters any shorter, and he found himself at the partially open door without remembering how he got there at all. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then pushed his way into the room only to find it empty. Voices came from the side room, and Arthur gazed at the floorspace between himself and those steps, wondering if the distance would somehow grow so that he never had to reach that room, never have to look in and see someone other than that stupid, clumsy oaf of a servant that had no special talents at all. The gods granted him no such luxury-apparently they were fresh out of mercy today-and with what felt like a single step he was at the top of the set of stairs.
The door was open. From the doorway Arthur could see Guinevere and Morgana sitting at the side of the rickety old bed, smiling gently while the servant girl leaned over and dabbed at the patient's forehead with a damp cloth. Gaius stood at the foot of the bed, smiling and murmuring something too quiet for Arthur to hear. Everyone looked around when Arthur finally managed the courage to enter the stuffy room, smiling in the relieved way that some people could. Arthur tried not to see the beaming smile on the pale servant's face from the bed, but it was a hard thing to miss, especially since only the previous night Arthur had realized how much he missed that big, stupid grin.
"You're awake," said Arthur, awkwardly courteous.
Merlin's smile faltered slightly.
"Very observant, you are," the brunette noted dryly.
Arthur pressed his lips together, then looked at the others. "Could you give us a moment?"
Gwen and Morgana exchanged a look. "Yes, of course," said the serving girl.
"Uther wanted to see me anyway," Morgana added, rising to her feet and sweeping gracefully out, Gwen hurrying behind her. Both were smiling.
"Gaius?" Arthur prompted when the old man didn't move. He gave a little jump as though startled, and then chuckled.
"Yes, Sire," he bowed his head and shuffled out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned back to Merlin.
"Is that my bag?" said the boy before the prince could speak.
"You left it in my chambers," Arthur replied, feeling bile rise up in his throat.
"Sorry," said the boy with an embarrassed grin.
"You know, it's funny," said the blonde young man, as though Merlin hadn't spoken.
"What's...funny?" Merlin wondered, watching as his master fiddled with the leather satchel in his hands, toying with the opening.
"It's funny how you can think you know someone," Arthur said, swallowing past the lump of ice that was blocking his airway. "But you're so wrong it's pathetic."
"Arthur?" said Merlin uneasily. "What're you going on about?"
"You can trust a person absolutely, and in the blink of an eye, your faith in them can be just...shattered, and you realize that you know nothing about them at all. You never did."
"Arthur, I have no idea what you're talking about," Merlin said, looking concerned. Arthur scowled and thrust his hand into the bag, his fingers closing with vicious anger on the worn leather binding. He remembered leaving it that night, and waking up to find it sitting seductively in that same exact spot the next morning. Thinking that maybe it might have some way to get Merlin back on his feet, Arthur decided to have a quick look at the pages. What he found was something entirely different, and much less welcome.
When the book left the confines of the bag to be brandished like a weapon at Merlin, the little color the boy had regained drained away.
"I'm talking about this, Merlin!" Arthur shouted. "A book of sorcery!"
"What-what's that have to do with me?" Merlin said weakly.
"Don't play stupid with me! It was in your bag!" Arthur snarled. "Would you mind telling me why? Just this once, why don't you tell me the truth?"
"Arthur, I never lied to y-"
"You're lying now!" Arthur bellowed, and in his fit of rage he did what he normally did: he flung the nearest object at the subject of his displeasure. In this case, the nearest object was the heavy book in his hands, and the subject of his displeasure was the stupid, lying git in the rickety old bed. It sailed through the air with all of Arthur's strength behind it, and crashed with a painful-sounding fwump! into Merlin's thin chest, knocking him flat on his back. He didn't sit up, possibly not wanting to have to look Arthur in the eyes.
"A book of spells, Merlin!" Arthur roared. "A book of magic! The same one that you have been accused of owning several times already! You were always found innocent, though. Did you use your magic to condemn those men? Did you use it to send innocent people to their deaths so that you could live? Well? Answer me, damn you!"
Arthur was now pacing back and forth, his wrath expanding until it threatened to make the room burst with its hateful energy. Magic. His own servant, a sorcerer!
Alarmed by the racket, Gaius rushed back into the room, the door banging against the wall with the force he had used to open it. He didn't even look at Arthur; he went straight to Merlin's side and checked the boy's pulse in his wrist.
"He's a bloody sorcerer, Gaius!" Arthur bellowed. "Get away from him!"
"He needs a physician, Sire," said Gaius calmly. "He's in no state to be hurting someone even if he wanted to."
Arthur stared at the man, horror dawning over him in another crushing wave.
"You knew." It wasn't a question. "You knew!"
"Indeed," Gaius answered, removing the heavy tome from Merlin's chest. "I gave him this book."
"You-He-" Arthur spluttered. Then he rounded on Merlin, who was still not sitting upright. "Is there anyone in this castle that hasn't lied to me?! I trusted you, you ass, and you're-"
"You can shout all you want," said Gaius, and his voice grew frigid. "He can't hear you."
Arthur whirled on the physician, but the man scarcely blinked.
"And why the hell not?" he demanded. Gaius fixed him with a cold, calculating stare.
"He's fainted."
The prince froze. Only his lips seemed able to move. "Fainted?"
Gaius nodded.
"And why the hell would he have fainted?"
The white-haired man raised an eyebrow.
"You and your men have fainted many times while I treated your wounds," he said. "The human mind can only take so much pain before it shuts off. Merlin was already hurting, and from the looks of it, you threw a rather heavy book at his wounds. Better men than he would have fainted from that."
Suddenly, Arthur's mouth was inexplicably dry, and he found it impossible to swallow. Had he done that? He looked down at his hands as though expecting someone else's fingers to wiggle back at him, because surely he would never hurt Merlin so badly. Sure, maybe he would clot him on the head if he did something stupid or throw pots and vases at his head, but those were all in good jest, when Merlin was in pristine condition, or as near pristine as he could be. He would never throw such an object right at the boy, knowing he was near-mortally wounded and not caring in the slightest.
Yet those fingers were his. Those hands were his. They could still feel the phantom weight of the book pressing against his palms, could feel his skin tingling guiltily. He curled his fingers into fists. He shouldn't have anything to feel guilty for. His servant had been lying to him for years, hiding the fact that he had magic and was therefore just as bad as every other sorcerer that they had ever had to chase down.
"Sire," said Gaius heavily. "Merlin has saved your life more times than you could possibly know. He's been protecting you with his magic, and the whole of Camelot as well. If he has at any time felt any ill will toward you, well, I'll eat my bed."
Arthur scowled at him.
"What sorcerer uses magic to protect people?" the prince demanded. "Sorcerers care only for themselves. They are selfish and evil and Merlin is one!"
"Some, perhaps," Gaius acknowledged. "But would a selfish man serve you as diligently as Merlin has done? Would an evil man take all of the abuse you dole out and never do anything to retaliate? Would a horrible, nasty man take care of you the way that Merlin has?"
Arthur curled and uncurled his fists.
"Sire, sorcerers are not inherently evil. Not anymore than knights are inherently good. It is the soul of a man that decides such things, and not the power which he wields. Sorcery has saved you many times, Sire, and it will save you many more times in your lifetime. It's only thanks to that boy that you are alive."
"I don't need him!" Arthur spat. "I don't need someone who's been lying to me since I met him! I can take care of myself!"
He whipped around to leave, but Gaius called after him and he paused.
"Lying, perhaps. But only so that you would not kill him unfairly, the way your father has killed so many. If he thought he could tell you and you would take it like a level-headed man, he would have in an instant, Sire."
"That doesn't…" Arthur said, finding his voice rough and barely audible. He cleared his throat. "That doesn't change the fact that he has lied to me."
"No, I suppose not," Gaius sighed. "But remember, he has also been protecting you."
Arthur had nothing left that he could say, so he strode from the room, hands still tingling, that phantom book still weighing him down.