A/N:

This one goes to Helca Maica, who has requested a sick!Merlin. As 'sick' is not very specific, I have some artistic licence to make this illness as horrible as I want. Enjoy!

I don't own Merlin

CHARACTERS: Merlin, Arthur & Gaius

RATED: K

GENRE: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Merlin sickness is much worse than he lets on and he collapses.

THE ADVENTURES OF MERLIN

Infected

Merlin squinted blearily as the early morning light invaded his vision and exacerbated the pounding headache that had begun to manifest the previous evening. Feeling thoroughly exhausted, despite sleeping through the night, the young man stretched languidly in an attempt to rid his body of the aches that had settled upon his joints and muscles.

Only mildly concerned, Merlin chalked the stiffness of his limbs down to Arthur's sudden bout of royal prattiness in which chore after tedious chore was piled upon the poor servant like they were going out of fashion.

A sharp knock upon the door sped his movements and he got up quickly, ignoring the incessant tickle at the back of his throat.

The headache was because of stress, the pain – due to a severe case of prat and the mild irritation that gave him an overwhelming urge to cough his lungs part way across the room was merely the excessive amount of dust that he inhaled daily.

He was decidedly not sick.

Sighing most dramatically, the youth clothed himself hastily and raked supple fingers through his sleep tousled raven mop in an attempt to appear somewhat decent before the King this morning.

Speaking of that supercilious, overgrown prat – Merlin was running late.

Covering a wet cough as he descended into the main chamber, the young warlock waved his mentor away in agitation, insisting that it was just a bit of dust and he was NOT, falling ill, damnit!

The older physician recoiled at Merlin's scathing tone and watched with a furrowed brow as the boy winced at the small movements that were required to throw on his jacket.

The young man could deny it until he was blue in the face, but through years of vast experience and observing, Gaius came to know distinctly when a person was ill, whether they were hiding it or totally unaware - he would know.

There was no doubt about it, the boy was falling ill.

*~*M*~*

Several days passed, and still Merlin was still determined to believe he was perfectly healthy, thank you very much – despite the constant, knifing pain in his chest that left him breathless after every suppressed cough. Feeling quite frustrated at the physicians constant hovering, he had never really had the urge to snap at the old man quite so much as he did now.

'God's above, Gaius!' Merlin barked irritably, pushing his gnarled hand away from where it hovered close to his brow. 'I've had it with your constant hovering!'

Looking slightly dismayed, the Physician backed away, his lips drawn tight as he tried to hide the hurt that was caused by his ward's tone.

'You looked a little flushed, I was merely checking to see if you had a fever,' Gaius replied coldly, feeling the need to chastise the stubborn youth for his profound lack of self-preservation.
Merlin did not respond and continued to glare at his oatmeal. Under normal circumstances, he would grin sheepishly and apologise for being a prat before wishing the Physician well for the day and leaving for work.

The glare deepened into a scowl and he threw his spoon down and rose from the chair. 'I'm not hungry,' he snarled, anticipating Gaius's next words before he even opened his mouth. 'I have a King to clean up after.'

And without so much as a "have a nice day, Gaius," he was out the door.

The trek up to Arthur's chambers was more exhausting than it ought to be, and by the time he reached the large oak doors, he was sweating profusely. Gripping the tray bearing the royal's breakfast, Merlin nudged the door open with his knee and slammed it shut behind him.

Arthur snorted awake and glared tiredly at the obscenely noisy servant who had yet to greet him with a bright smile and a cheeky "let's have you lazy daisy."

'Merlin,' he groaned with exasperation, swinging his legs from the large bed.

'Arthur,' the youth responded with equal frustration, tearing the curtains open and recoiling from the sudden brightness. The dust did nothing but aggravate the tickle in his throat and covering his mouth with a fist, coughed wetly.

'Merlin, are you-' Arthur began.

'Oh for f...not you too!' The youth cried, throwing his arms up in exasperation. 'Gaius has been prodding and hovering for the past three days! Just shut up and eat your breakfast.'

Taken aback, Arthur frowned – more concerned than actually angry at his friend's tone. Gaius rarely hovered without reason, and the King was starting to wonder if the stubborn idiot was refusing medical treatment just to spite him, for he was clearly very ill.

Merlin's skin was beaded with sweat as he bustled about the chambers, tidying dirty garments from the floor, and even from across the room, Arthur could hear the wheeze of each breath that he drew.

'I'm going to let that comment slide considering you're unwell.' Arthur said casually, seating himself at the table before his breakfast. 'And before you ever consider denying it – you're a horrible liar and you look hell. Go home.'

The youth stiffened and turned to Arthur slowly, his eyes full of...tears?

'I'm s-sorry, sire...I didn't mean to snap,' he sniffed and drew the sleeve of his tunic across his nose.

The King would have been disgusted if not for the very sudden change in mood.

Merlin shifted his gaze to the floor and scuffed the toe of his boot against the stone. The King stood and approached slowly, his concern growing as he noticed the slight tremble of his slim frame.

'Merlin?' He asked softly, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.

Merlin's breath whistled as he inhaled, and he looked upon his master with fearful eyes.

'I don't feel well,' he murmured and suddenly Arthur found himself with an armful of limp manservant as he pitched forward; lids fluttering sluggishly before falling closed.

'Idiot,' Arthur murmured gently, wincing when he felt the heat radiating from his body.

Oh Gaius was going to be so pleased.

*~*M*~*

'I'm afraid he has pneumonia, sire,' Gaius muttered gravely as he completed his examination of the boy. Arthur felt his stomach drop at the implications. He could clearly remember the Knights who had suffered and died from it during long winter-time patrols.

It was not a pleasant thing to watch.

The King scrubbed a hand across his stubbled jaw. 'Will he be alright, Gaius?' He inquired, taking a seat upon the stool by the patient's cot.

Beneath the plethora of blankets that had been piled upon him, Merlin still shivered violently, which was cause for concern.

'I can't say for certain, my Lord,' the Physician replied after a moment, reaching for the chamber pot as Merlin retched in his semi-conscious state. 'It is only a mild case at this point...had he gone without treatment for much longer, I daresay we would already be burying him. As it is, I should have insisted treatment when I first noticed he was becoming ill...but he was...'

'B-being...a...p-prat?' Came a small, tired voice from beneath the mound of blankets.

Gaius smiled warmly at his ward and rested a hand upon his brow.

'It is alright, my boy...your insufferable mood swings are all part of the illness. I do not hold you accountable for your words.' He soothed.

'You were being more of a Prat than I usually am,' Arthur interjected, leaning forward and offering the youth a small smile. 'But it's what made me realise you were so sick – you being such a girl and all.'

Merlin chuckled, and then winced as his laughter caught in his throat, expelling instead the harshest sounding coughs the King had ever heard.

He reached for the cup of water on the table and eased the boy into a semi-recumbent position before pressing the cup to his lips.

The Physician stepped away and watched the King's gentle ministrations as he tended to hid friend.

'Arthur, would you be able to stay by him for an hour or so? I require some herbs from the forest and the lower town that are essential for his recovery.' Gaius asked, collecting his basket like he knew the King would not refuse.

Arthur nodded, turning back to his manservant and lowering him back against the pillows as the old man left.

'You have to get better, Merlin,' he whispered, brushing a stray lock of raven hair from the youth's damp brow.

Merlin blinked at him owlishly, but offered him a small smile, before turning once more to expel the contents of his stomach.

'I can't say I won't be happy when that stops,' Merlin grimaced, closing his eyes.

'Yes, It's truly disgusting.' The King agreed.

'You can't deny it, my liege...' the raven haired youth said through a yawn.

'Deny what, exactly?'

'Y-you're w-worried...about me...'

Arthur sighed as Merlin lost consciousness, exhausted by such a virulent illness. Feeling utterly ridiculous and not at all Kingly, he pressed his lips to Merlin's brow and drew the blankets tighter around his shivering form.

'Of course I am, you complete and utter clotpole,' he replied to the sleeping youth.

The King wasn't about to let anything happen to the man that had somehow become like a brother to him, so he promised Merlin and himself that he would do everything Gaius told him too, if it meant he had a part in the youth's recovery.

And he would.

I hope you all enjoyed that :3 I researched a few illnesses from the Middle Ages, before settling on a good ole' case of Pneumonia. Everything else was too...messy? Besides which, I have had borderline pneumonia before, so I know how Merlin should feel! It's not fun...I would recommend avoiding it.