Gwaine took the last watch and as was his duty - he woke Merlin. The boy was still curled under his a bit to small blanket and slightly shivering, but he responded almost instantly to the knight. Blue eyes blinking in the dying firelight, Merlin stretched before sitting up. The damp cold air snaked through his clothes and into his bones and he rose to his feet shaky like a fawn, as if he had just been born to this day.

Carefully and quietly, he fed the fire after adding rock to catch and radiate heat. He nearly choked as the dew kissed fuel smoked as it resisted combustion. Distracting Gwaine with the sudden need for a pail of water, a quick discrete spell took care of the pollutants that made the fire smell like death. As steady as he could, with his knife, he cut an X into each of his chestnuts..

Morning had come to quickly. Merlin felt sore and lethargic and he couldn't quite stop trembling muscles that did not want to be active yet. It was true he hadn't been home to do half the things he normally did. He didn't have to go on patrol. He hadn't gone out to pick herbs. He wasn't studying or rushing to make things for the apothecary. One night of full sleep couldn't reverse months of self neglect.

After he removed the water and put the chestnuts into a roasting pan, he went back to working on breakfast for his friends, while Gwaine kept watch over the camp. With a long knife sharpened stick, Merlin went back to the stream and speared fish. After cleaning them and gutting them and stuffing each with rosemary sprigs, he arranged them carefully on flat rocks that he placed in the fire after he retrieved his chestnuts from the heat. They smelled nice and were swollen in their shells. He poured them onto a clean cloth from his pack and went back to the fire.

Arthur wasn't fond of bland food. He preferred highly flavored dishes thanks to the castle cooks spoiling his sense of taste by smothering their food with any and all available herbal mixtures always trying to keep the Pendragon family sated. Most wild birds did taste gamey and the secret to satisfaction was to mask the taste with herbs that would taste and smell nice. It usually worked best when the herbs were still warm so that the heat of the meat carried the scent. Merlin made porridge for the knights that would compliment the campfire fish. He added carrot, garlic, and bitter, sharp tasting herbs to the mix before he settled the pot on rocks he'd placed in the fire for support.

Even though it was cold, Merlin was slightly sweaty. He sat close to the fire so that he could make sure that breakfast did not burn. There would be hell to pay if it the food was bad. All he had to do now was to make some peppermint tea, it wasn't invigorating but it beat cold water with breakfast. Roughing it with a royal was truly a royal pain in the ass.

Gwaine happily accepted his breakfast and gave Merlin a thumbs up in appreciation of his first mouthful.

He woke Arthur before the knights. It was never a good thing to let others see the young Pendragon in full pout. Morning was not welcome. Food was. Merlin handed Arthur a full plate, a full bowl, and a full cup. It was best just to distract him with something pleasant before he took his temper out on others.

The knights were generally more forgiving. Waking Percival was a little difficult, the large man was pleasant, but groggy. He sat still for a moment before accepting the warm mug from Merlin. Food was the best way to keep large aggressive men, no matter how good natured, happiness was measured in relation to the amount of hunger. The hungrier they were the more apt they were to be competitive and to avoid conflict the strategy meant that Merlin had to be on top of his game and fill their stomachs. Merlin filled cups, served seconds, and started rolling up bedrolls.

By the time the beaters and other servants rejoined them, Merlin had everything washed, repacked, and ready. It would be another day of slaughter. Another day of death throes, sliced necks, and skinning. He handed over the reigns of his horse to another servant who was to follow from behind, Owaine was the kid's name. He was the only son of a widow from the lower town. Clever, mature, and freckled -the sun-kissed youth welcomed the handful of chestnuts that Merlin offered.

His legs were heavy as he took his place beside Arthur. And even though the Once and Future King had smiled at him in greeting – Merlin couldn't smile back. Merlin wanted to go back home. He was so tired. Weapons were at the ready and even though no one had killed anything yet - the air already seemed heavy with the scent of blood.

The day was grayer, cooler, and damper than Arthur wanted. After hours of combing the forest, it became apparent that they weren't going to bring down anything significant. The few meager rabbits would be enough for supper, but it was a wasted effort to keep looking. Besides, he couldn't help but notice that Merlin had been struggling to keep up. It was true that Merlin hadn't been himself in weeks, but the longer they hunted the more wan the boy looked. Pale and wet, Merlin awkwardly toddled after Arthur as quietly as he could despite the fact he had begun to sway on his feet.

The extra servants and beaters were sent back to the palace with the furs. The air was heavy with a misting rain that had efficiently soaked everyone.

Arthur could have cursed when the mist stopped to be replaced with a cold and steady wind that cut cold right through the padding under his armor. Merlin had said that they should head back, but Arthur didn't want to take his suggestion. It was the first thing his manservant had said all day.

"The wood is wet," announced Merlin as he pushed for a second time he pushed his opinion, "we should head back."

Arthur huffed before he could help himself, "Just because the wood is wet, Merlin, we're not heading back. Not for that at least! This is a three day hunting trip, Merlin. If we were at war – we wouldn't go home due to a bit of weather." He wouldn't have resisted if Leon had said it, Leon was still Leon, after all.

All the knights were quiet now and carefully watching the exchange. It hadn't gone unnoticed that Merlin had been silently suffering. The tall thin frame of the servant stood comically before his squatting master, Merlin's face turned stormy as if his emotions were conflicted. His delicate looking hands were resting on his hip bones, but Arthur felt that Merlin wasn't looking down at Arthur as much as measuring him. Merlin turned and began packing equipment onto his horse. When he was finished, he wiped water off his face with the ridiculous rag he wore around his neck. Merlin turned a look that had the weight of an obese tempest stirring in his eyes, "Okay, enough is enough Arthur. We're all going back. You are going to get sick. The knights will get sick."

"I'm in charge here, Merlin. Have you forgotten?" Arthur snapped, "Don't forget that I am the one who decides what we do, where we go, and how long we stay."

Merlin took the reigns of his horse and looked down at the petulant prince, "Yes, I know you're in charge. There is no way I could forget that," Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes a little, "Well... come on then."

The knights were on their feet now, each very interested in the outcome. They were soaked and cold. Each looked ready to follow Merlin, but loyalty to Arthur meant that his will dominated their actions.

"If you don't come home, now, Arthur. I am going to tell Gaius," threatened Merlin in a matter-of-fact don't-challenge-me tone.

The wind picked up. They didn't have the right items to stay out in this, they needed tents. Merlin's lips were taking on a blue tinge and he was shivering in front of his master. He did not look as unhappy as the knights, but he was obviously suffering.

"Fine, but it is YOUR fault, Merlin. If you had packed and had been prepared for the weather then we wouldn't be heading back. This failed hunt – is your fault," snapped Arthur.

The royal hunting party, lead their mounts through the forest until they reached the trail that would lead them to warm hearths, warm food, and warm soft beds. Basically the entire motivation was fueled by the desire to be "not cold." Even a dollop-head would be able to understand the basic human need to seek comfort. A chill in the wet weather could bring the nastiest of colds. This could be more dangerous than being ambushed out in the wilderness. The strongest man could die from a cold.

Merlin did not moderate his horse's speed so that the others could easily overtake him and for some reason none of the knights, not even Gwaine, tempted to ride beside him. Arthur was cursing under his breath as he caught up to his manservant who only rewarded him with a side glance.

"What's the matter Merlin? Just because you didn't pack correctly you don't have to be so moody. You have the temperament of a girl," proudly stated Arthur.

Merlin tutted in response, but didn't provide an actual retort.

"Merlin? What's wrong with you?" this time the question was gentler without the insult.

Merlin sucked on his lips before answering, "You keep speaking, Arthur. You keep speaking without thinking. You proclaim without thinking. You decide without consideration. You demand without consideration. You need to realize things like this."

The skies opened up and it was raining heavily now, the weather distracted Arthur from replying to Merlin's piss laden little lecture. They dismounted and walked their mounts. Even if they found shelter, it would be to late. The water soaked party would be at the mercy to the wind and the increasing cold. Merlin kept his head bowed and eyes trained on the ground for any mount maiming tree roots.

Eventually the rain slowed down.

Merlin remounted his horse without looking to see if the others followed suit and it wasn't until after he moved through the gates of Camelot did he bother to turn his head to see that everyone was still following him.

"Merlin," began Arthur only to find himself interrupted by Leon.

"Sire, I think he might be unwell."

Oh how that would be a nice little solution to the problem, but there was no way. If Merlin wasn't enchanted then he was disenchanted with Arthur and his antics. It hurt. Merlin wasn't even offering to stable his horse, but the stable boy ran over and began collecting mounts, freeing the hunting party to go inside and find warmth.

Gaius handed Gwaine a hot cup of mulled cider. Gwaine had already changed out of his gear and into warm clothing. The storm had once again decided to rage and there was nothing better than to get something from the Court Physician to warm the insides.

Merlin hadn't returned yet.

Neither man said anything about the boy's absence. Instead they quietly sipped their drinks and chatted about the hunt. Details were glossed over. Gwaine only talked about what they got and what they ate. He mentioned Merlin's aversion to taking his share of the meat, but he didn't mention Arthur's scene about the boy's choice of supper.

They knew where Merlin was and what he was doing. He had tended the horses. He had to unpack his and put all that equipment away. He also had to run and fetch Arthur's dinner. He probably even had to provide Arthur with a hot bath to chase away the chills from the day. Merlin had to be with Arthur right now, working without stopping while soaking wet.

Gwaine would have rather of gone to the tavern, but he wanted to wait for Merlin. He wanted to make sure he saw his friend's face again before he swaggered into the Rising Sun. If Arthur could be smart or thoughtful, he wouldn't complain. He'd let it be. If he was smart, he'd just allow Merlin to do his job without any snide remarks.

If Arthur ever used his brain, if he could use his brain; now was the time.

When Merlin returned, his face told the story. He was tired. He was cold. He was angry. It was very apparent that Arthur hadn't been smart after all.

Gwaine sighed and gave his friend a sympathetic grin.

Merlin dashed to his room and came down a little later in clean dry clothes and a woolen blanket. Gaius handed him a cup of hot mulled cider which Merlin pressed into the side of his face.

"You okay mate?" asked the knight. Merlin smiled at him through a veil of exhaustion.

"I'm fine."

"You should have come back to change before you went to tend to Arthur," Gaius said while spooning out some hot porridge for Merlin's dinner. "I'm afraid this is all you are going to get tonight from me. I didn't expect you home until tomorrow."

Merlin's eyes lit up, plain porridge with honey was obviously perfect. It would be warming and he might just feel a little better. He sank onto a wooden stool and beamed at his mentor even if he was still clutching his wool blanket snugly against his frame. The big goofy smile that Gwaine had not seen in some time, still existed.

It wasn't until Gwaine left did the physician and his apprentice begin to talk earnestly. Merlin confessed that he wasn't feeling well and that now he seemed to be sensitive to smells. He admitted that he was tired all the time now and it did not seem to matter what he did during the day or how much sleep he did or did not get. Food wasn't helping. Food wasn't hurting, but he didn't feel any different after he ate.

He wanted to wave all of this off, but if experience had taught him one thing it was that if something wasn't right – it was better to get it off his chest as soon as he could. Gaius might not have understood what he was going through, but he loved Merlin. He knew Merlin and he still loved him. That was enough.

Gaius made no immediate comment, but from the look on his face one thing was clear – something was actually wrong. Merlin felt a pinch of worry wrinkling his brow before he forced himself to relax.

Destiny wouldn't allow him to be thwarted so easily no matter what was going on.

"Well?"

"Merlin, have you been in contact with any of the Druids lately?"

The boy shook his head as he resolutely stated, "No. Why? Do you think I'm enchanted or spelled?"

"No. No, Merlin. I don't think this is sorcery, however I do think it's magic. The druids know you more as a legend than as a man. Even the great dragon might be of use with this – if this is part of your destiny."

Merlin frowned as he retorted, "You know, Gaius, I get enough of the cryptic stuff from Kilgharrah and truthfully the druids are no more forthcoming with information than he is so I have no idea where this leaves me. If this gets worse, I don't know what I'll do. I can' barely make it through the day without feeling like I am going to fall asleep or be sick."

If Merlin was a female – if Merlin was a female who had time – and a young man … Gaius would have asked if there was anything going wrong with the monthly bleed. However, Merlin was still chaste, he was male, and there was no way he could have been pregnant so Gaius left that alone. The symptoms were so indicative of hormonal shifts, but with Merlin's magic – as undefinable as it was by its very nature?! There were no books to consult on Merlin's magic.

That night, for the first time in a long time – Merlin dreams of Nimueh.