Merthur - Forgotten

Summer Rain and Winter Sun

"Who cares for you when there's so little to care for?" 

"Wait long enough and my allies will be known." 

___ ___ ___

Sleep took Merlin before he reached Camelot that night. He'd been up for twenty-four hours doing exhaustive work with Arthur. His fingers hurt to move and felt frozen around the reins. As the sun rose behind him, Merlin went limp against his horse who, though tired, went on. If she hadn't, both of them surely would have died.

She hardly had time to reach the gates when guards found them. Merlin was taken from the back of his horse, still unconscious, and the horse was led to the castle stables. There she was warmed and there she slept. It would be weeks before she was ridden again, her health being the first thing on the stable boy's mind.

Merlin, on the other hand, was taken to Gaius. He was treated and, yes, warmed. There were early signs of frostbite on his fingers and the blood that had come from the cut on his cheek was frozen on his skin. The cut itself was red and swollen. Gaius did what he could. The warlock did not wake for a very long time.

____ ____ ____

It was the throbbing pain of the cut that woke Merlin, though nothing about his surroundings was necessarily peaceful. His eyes fluttered open, catching glimpses of Gaius, then closed again. Slowly, haltingly, Merlin became aware.

There was a warmth tracing his cheek just below the pain and his fingers felt as if they were on fire. In the background, Merlin could hear Gaius muttering to himself. He forced his eyes open and his breath hitched in his throat. Arthur hovered over him, his expression the same as it had been last night. Merlin realized that the warm touch on his cheek was Arthur's touch.

Then it was gone and the prince's expression changed. Replacing it was a companionable smile. "Got lost last night, did you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but Gaius was there before he could formulate a thought.

"Good, you're awake," he said, his fingers finding the soft spot on Merlin's neck where his pulse could easily be monitored. "You've got a lot to explain."

"Like what?" he asked, moving to sit up. Arthur retreated and let Gaius take control of the situation. Merlin watched him go, wishing he would stay close. He didn't, of course.

"Like this cut. The frostbite. What were you doing out there? Why did you not come home?" As he spoke, he poked the open wound and Merlin flinched away.

Before he answered, Merlin looked at Arthur, silently asking whether or not he could tell the truth. Arthur shook his head, lifting a finger to his lips. Apparently, he already had a story that didn't involve Merlin or the rescue.

"I, uh, slipped and fell against a sharp rock while I was riding. I must have knocked myself out." Gaius searched his face, then decided he was lying. Thankfully, he didn't say anything. Behind him, Merlin saw Arthur stifle a laugh.

"Well don't do it again," Gaius said matter of factly, "an apprentice is no use to me dead." Merlin understood this to be a joke and couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. Gaius looked at him, holding back a smile of his own.

"I think I'd rather be dead," he said and Gaius laughed. It was good to hear. Merlin had been so caught up in the joke that he didn't notice when Arthur came back to stand next to the cot. Merlin turned to look at him and had to flinch back in order to avoid a collision. Arthur had leaned in close.

"Why didn't you run away?"

Merlin searched for an answer, his mind going just a little slower than he'd like with the fogginess of sleep still lingering. When he took too long, Arthur pulled back and clapped him on the shoulder.

"He'll be fine by tonight, won't he Gaius?" Gaius didn't seem prepared for the question. He turned distractedly from a book he'd been looking through and raised his eyebrows.

"What? Ah, yes. I suppose so."

Merlin watched a bit of the stiffness in Arthur's shoulders melt away.

"In that case Merlin, I expect you to be serving me dinner tonight."

Merlin scoffed and Arthur glared.

"Tonight," he insisted.

____ ____ ____

By the time night rolled around, Merlin was dressed and Gaius was already filled in. What little Merlin could confide in him with, he did. It was good while it lasted and then Merlin found himself outside of Arthur's quarters, a hot plate burning into the palms of his hands, and the feeling melted away.

He entered, not bothering to knock. Arthur was leaned over his table, already in his pajamas. The candles were lit, his bed made, the floor clean. Merlin felt a pang of, what? Anger? Jealousy?

"It's clean," he said stupidly.

Arthur jumped up and swiveled to face him. "Nothing gets past you, does it?" he asked. Merlin couldn't help but feel better just seeing him. He was light, happy. As if last night never happened. He wore a loose-fitting shirt that hung low and exposed his chest and pants that Merlin was sure weren't there last week. Without waiting for an answer, he waved Merlin in and took his usual seat at the head of the table. "What's for dinner?"

Merlin placed the tray in front of the prince, giving him his best smile. "Steak, potatoes, carrots... um, and I think that's gravy."

Arthur gave him a look. "You think?"

"Well, I didn't exactly taste it. The cook was the one who prepared it for you."

A frown. Arthur poked the gravy with his fork then looked up at Merlin expectantly. Unsure of what the prince wanted, he tried to reassure him.

"It's straight from the cook, I wouldn't worry."

Arthur pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "Sit down, idiot." He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Like this was a predetermined date they'd planned. Merlin looked hesitantly between Arthur and the seat adjacent to him. The dark wood of the chair looked darker in the low light.

"Go on," he urged, glancing between Merlin and the chair. Merlin took his seat slowly and noticed with an unnerving sense of victory that Arthur looked just a little less nervous now that he had. Outside, moonlight shown over a quiet, white Camelot. Inside, the candles made Arthur's skin look like fire and his expressions feel like passion. Merlin knew better.

"What is this?" he asked with a small, nervous laugh. "Don't I have something else to do?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly around the room. "Merlin, do you see anything that isn't already done?"

Merlin looked into the dark shadows and found that Arthur was right. His nightly chores had already been completed. "Well, I could dust, or organize. You know, I've been meaning to-"

"You're sitting with me." Arthur's gaze had hardened and he looked strangely dejected. Merlin shut his mouth, wondering what he'd done wrong.

"Okay," he said.

Arthur scooped a bite of the gravy into his spoon and held it in front of Merlin's mouth.

"Taste this. I'm not taking any chances."

Merlin lifted a hand to take the spoon, but Arthur slapped it away. When Merlin opened his mouth to protest, Arthur prevented any chance by shoving the spoon in. Merlin froze for just a fraction of a second before his body worked on autopilot and he swallowed. Arthur pulled the spoon away and Merlin was not at all surprised to see a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well, that's definitely gravy, and you're definitely a prat." Merlin wiped off what didn't quite make it into his mouth as he spoke. Arthur pushed him playfully, though his expression was that of a bemused parent.

"I should throw you in the dungeons for that."

Merlin smiled at him and asked with a hint of hope in his voice, "But you won't?"

Arthur seemed to deliberate this for a long time. "No. Not this time. Think of it as a thank you."

Merlin furrowed his eyebrows. "For what?"