Heavy is the Head ▻ Merthur

TWO - Interruptions

It was a chorus of loud, successive knocking that woke Arthur from his slumber the following morning.

"Come in." He groaned, his voice thick with sleep, his blonde hair tousled and disheveled by a night of fitful tossing as he'd tried to ignore his throbbing wound. He opened his eyes blearily to see Merlin gently push the door open with his foot, his hands otherwise occupied with a large silver plate laden down with bread, ham, cheese and various fruits; a breakfast fit for a prince.

"Good morning Sire." Merlin smiled with all his usual cheer and placed the plate down on the table.

"Sire?" Arthur repeated in groggy disbelief, struggling to sit up so he could quiz his servant. "When was the last time you had the manners to call me sire?" He laughed - more of a wheeze, really - as he threw back his blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed, unable to disguise the pain in his leg as he winced. Glancing down, he was dismayed to see the dressing - so carefully applied by Gaius the day before - soaked with blood; perhaps the arrow had penetrated deeper than he'd first thought.

"Arthur," taking a hasty step towards the bed, Merlin started to explain his situation - before being swiftly cut off by an arrogant swish of Arthur's hand. Merlin's own hand fell to his side, previously moving to pull the blankets back over the Prince's bare body.

"Merlin, it's okay. I've had a wound like this countless times before - you know that - and I've pulled through each one just fine." Arthur interrupted - in a voice that could only be described as adamant - before pulling himself to his feet with all the difficulty of an injured man. Merlin watched helplessly as he swayed, before finding his balance and standing tall.

"Great, Arthur, but-"

For the second time, Merlin was cut off. "Anyway, what's with you calling me sire? I don't think I've ever heard that word come out of your pretty mouth before in my life." Arthur scoffed, taking a shaky step closer to Merlin, his arm reaching out to wrap around his servant's neck. Panic kindled in Merlin's eyes and he took a step back, trying desperately to distance himself from the steadily advancing Prince. "And I have heard a lot of words come out of you," Arthur continued, blatantly unobservant to the fact that Merlin wasn't acting himself, "including some that I thought I would hear no man ever say to me, like-"

"I found it Merlin! It was in the- oh!" Gaius stopped short at the sight of Arthur out of bed and leaning precariously close to Merlin - who looked agitated, to say the very least - clothed only in the bare minimum. Merlin jumped at the sight of his mentor standing in the room and froze, his cheeks flushing a scarlet red to match his shirt.

"Arthur Pendragon," Gaius frowned deeply, his face twisted into one of sour disappointment as the spell cast over Arthur was broken. The Prince whipped around, features drawn into guilt, - though he tried to disguise it - his mouth instantly falling open to mumble an excuse.

"I would have expected better from you. Get back into bed this instance." The physician snapped firmly, ignoring Arthur's minimal covering as he shuffled over with alarming momentum. Arthur obeyed without question, turning and burying himself back under the soft covers. Meanwhile, Merlin took a deep breath, trying to return his heart to its steady pace and his cheeks to their normal hue. That had been too close; what if it was Uther or Agravaine, or even one of the knights that had walked in? Anyway, it wasn't like Merlin hadn't tried to tell Arthur that Gaius was on his way.

If Gaius had thought that anything unlawful had been occurring, he certainly didn't show it; he was too busy scolding Arthur for getting out of bed and agitating the wound, rather than anything else.