"Odysseus had no choice. He had to defy the wishes of Poseidon if he was to get home," Gaius said.
"Are you sure Arthur won't just be annoyed?" Merlin asked.
"He's always loved these stories. Now hush. Odysseus didn't have many men left, but he gathered the ones he had and set off into the Mediterranean."
Arthur smiled. Gaius was telling his stories again. Pain throbbed deep in Arthur's leg, but dully. Warm blankets were tacked around him. He dragged his eyes open. A fire crackled in the fireplace across from him.
Gaius's worn hand patted his shoulder. "I've got some tea over here for you." He shuffled into Arthur's view and picked up a teapot from where it was slung over the fireplace. He poured tea into a wooden cup and handed it to Arthur.
Arthur managed to half-sit up and sip at the tea. He wrinkled his nose. "There's no sugar."
Gaius chuckled. "In some ways, you never really change, do you?" He stuffed extra pillows behind Arthur.
Arthur frowned. Where had the extra pillows come from? His eye caught on the blankets wrapped around him. He was enveloped in his own red embroidered blankets from his bed. "Why…"
"Uther wanted to move you to your bedroom. I did not feel safe with that, so this was our compromise," Gaius said.
Normally, Arthur would want to be in his bedroom, but he was glad he was here and wouldn't be alone.
"Here." Gaius plucked the cup from Arthur's hand. "I'll get you some sugar."
Merlin scoffed. "You never get me sugar!"
"You have two working legs," Gaius said. "You know where the sugar is."
Merlin slouched into view and plopped down near the fireplace, crossing his arms and pouting. "What you're trying to say is Arthur's the favorite."
"And don't you forget it." Gaius handed Arthur his cup back.
Arthur sipped the sweetened tea. That was better.
Gaius patted Arthur's shoulder. He spoke to Merlin quietly, but Arthur still picked it up.
"Merlin, you've got me and your mother. Arthur's just got me."
Arthur wanted to argue, but he couldn't—and since he supposedly hadn't heard, he didn't need to. Gaius knew how to be soft. Father had occasional moments (more of those than usual these past few days), but he was a much better king than father.
Arthur slowly sipped his tea. He floated on a haze as Gaius continued his story of Odysseus. At some point, he must have drifted off, because he woke up with Father sitting by his bedside, reading The Iliad out loud. The Greek stories were the only fantastical ones Father allowed. Merlin was fast asleep in front of the fireplace and Guinevere bustled around with Gaius preparing medicines.
"I can carry you up to your rooms before I return to the front," Father said. "The siege engines should be almost done. With luck, we'll win the war before you're healed."
Arthur nodded, still too asleep to form words.
"Gaius will take good care of you," Father said.
"I always do," Gaius said.
"When will you leave?" Arthur asked.
"Not for a few more hours," Father said.
Arthur nodded. He settled down, sipping more tea, and listened to Father read some more. When Father came back from the war, the softness would be gone, so Arthur soaked in the parental affection while he could. Eventually, Guinevere left, Gaius trimmed the candles, and Arthur drifted off. He knew that last cup of tea had a sleeping potion in it, but he was too comfortable to care. He barely noticed when Father picked him up and carried him to his bed. But he noticed the kiss planted on his forehead.
When Arthur woke up, Guinevere sat by his side aggressively sewing, stabbing the needle through the white shirt in her lap, then yanking it out.
"What did that shirt ever do to you?" Arthur asked, smiling.
Gwen sighed. "You've been gone so long, and Merlin was so behind on mending already."
"And it's an excuse to stay here, with me," Arthur said.
Guinevere didn't look up, but she smiled. "I was beginning to think we'd never see each other again."
"But we're here together again." Arthur reached out his hand.
Guinevere took it and ran her thumb over his knuckles. "I missed you."
"And I you." Arthur sighed. His memories weighed on his skin. All the others were far too overprotective for him to unburden himself on them, but Guinevere cared without being overbearing. "I need to tell you…what happened."
"No," Guinevere said. "Don't press yourself to talk unless you want to. I'm just happy you're back."
"It's all right," Arthur said. "I want to."
"Then I'm listening." Guinevere pressed a kiss to his hand.
With that permission, Arthur spilled out all his memories. The first arrow in his thigh, his one failed escape attempt, the regular beatings, the work, the cage, the pigs, the final arrival of Gwaine. The only thing he didn't mention was Merlin's magic, which was not his secret to tell. Guinevere exclaimed at all the horrors and comforted him that the words of his masters and the angry crowd were wrong. When he was done, he felt much lighter.
"So you don't think me weak for being unable to bear the work you do every day?" Arthur asked.
"Being paid to serve by people that care for your wellbeing is a far cry from being enslaved by people that hate you for being born into something you can't control," Guinevere said. "You are not weak, Arthur. You are so strong for bearing up under it for so long."
"I love you," Arthur said.
"I love you too." And she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.
