Merlin One-shots

Breathe, you idiot.

TW: Panic attack

Word count - 976

Merlin

Everything just sort of... Built up.

First it was the little inconveniences; tripping up on a hunting trip, forgetting which herbs Gaius wanted, Arthur calling him an idiot for the 15 millionth time.

That wasn't too bad. That, Merlin could deal with, easy peezy.

Then the things started to get worse.

The chalice was poisoned, he didn't save the unicorn, he saved Arthur's life so many fucking times and yet Cedric got his way. Not to mention the old dead sorcerer that possessed Cedric almost destroyed Camelot.

But that couldn't compare to the time Arthur nearly died.

Merlin still had nightmares about it; the towering beast sinking its teeth into his friend's royal flesh, the groans of agony, the blood...there was so much blood...

The image of Arthur's sweat-soaked face flashed beneath his eyelids the second they were closed, his breath ragged and so, so unbearably thin.

Merlin had almost died himself to heal Arthur, but that didn't matter. That didn't haunt him.

Arthur had been inches from death because of Merlin's cowardice, because of Merlin's hesitation, because of Merlin's inability to sacrifice his identity to save his friend without a second thought.

Because of Merlin.

Yes, he had healed Arthur. Yes, he had saved his friend, but at what cost? His own mother nearly died because he was stupid, stupid, stupid enough to trust Nimue.

And then, oooooh then, he hadn't had the wits to realise Gaius would be willing to sacrifice himself for his mother.

He had been too much of an idiot to think that Gaius' selfless nature would lead him to be more than willing to die in Hunith's place.

He had narrowly escaped loosing the only father he had that day.

And it was all his fault; Arthur, Hunith, Gaius - how many more had to come moments from death before they realised that Merlin was the issue.

Merlin is the issue.

Merlin has always been the issue, and Merlin will continue to be the issue.

Because he is stupid.

He is selfish.

He is ignorant.

He is a coward.

Of all that is mighty, he is such a fucking ignorant, selfish, idiotic, stupid, good-for-nothing -

"....idiot."

"Hm?" Merlin's gaze snapped up from its fixed position on the cold stone floor.

"I said," Arthur began, glaring at his dolt of a servant. "Finish scrubbing the floors, you idiot."

"Oh...right, of course, sire." Merlin muttered, ducking his head back down to fight back the tears that were starting to form, the same tears that had threatened to fall the day that Arthur had nearly died and oh, gods, it was all my fault-

"Well, dollophead? Did you not hear me."

"Apologies, Sire." Merlin muttered again, voice breaking as he refused to meet his master's gaze.

Merlin ducked down to his knees, picking up the scrub from the rusted bucket and continuing to scrape and scrub at the stone chamber floors, wrist already straining from how hard he pushed, pushed, pushed, the monotonous scrape, scrape, scrape fading into white noise.

Sometimes, Merlin really hated how fast is brain worked.

He couldn't just kneel there and scrub the floors, nooo, his mind had to wander to this and that, the repeated wrist movement becoming subconscious, allowing his thoughts to run wild.

Unfortunately, he had already dug himself a rabbit hole of dread, and, to his thoughts, the only place to go was down, down, down.

"Somebody, help!"

His voice echoed through the sweating caves, leaving silence so thick and suffocating that all hope was instantly sucked from his lungs, along with his breath.

His heartbeat grew louder in his ears, mistaken for frantic footsteps as he swivelled his head around, desperate for the assistance he craved for his friend, his dying, dying, dying friend that seemed to have stopped breathing, oh, gods, is he breathing, is he breathing, he's not breathing, why isn't he breathing-

"Merlin!"

The foggy figure of Arthur appeared before his vision, concerned gaze blurred with hot tears.

His friend pulled him into a strong hug, firm yet caring, and such a shockingly rare occurrence that Merlin didn't know how to react. His arms lay stiff at his sides, eyes wide with confusion.

"Breathe, you idiot."

The sky came crashing down as Merlin relaxed, collapsing into Arthur's silk shirt, staining the ruby red crimson with his tears, though Arthur didn't seem to mind.

"Shh, shh, you're okay." The prince muttered, gently running his hand through Merlin's mop of raven hair. "You're save, Dollophead, no need for tears. Don't want the whole castle to think you're a girl."

Merlin pulled back, sniffling. "P-pretty sure they already do, since y-you insist on calling me one on a regular." A weak laugh escaped his trembling lips. 

Arthur smirked. "So, Merlin, want to tell me what that was all about?"

Merlin shifted on his knees uncomfortably. "...Not really..."

"Well, too bad." Arthur shifted so he was sitting cross-legged. "Talk."

"Arthur, I-"

"Merlin, I am the crowned Prince of Camelot and I order you to tell me why you were just leaving a decently-sized tear stain on my favourite shirt."

Merlin sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position before talking. And talking. And, as he went on, he found it easier to continue, the whole story flowing from his lips like water from a spilled bucket.

And, for once, Arthur was silent, listening with intensity. Every now and then, when Merlin found it difficult to continue, he would give his servant's calloused hand a gentle squeeze as a small sign of comfort that allowed the boy to go on.

By the time he was done, Merlin's eyes were brimmed in tears and Arthur seemed to be in shock.

"Well..." Arthur muttered, staring down at Merlin's hand in his. "Never knew you cared about me so much." He joked, smirking. 

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Believe me, Clotpole, I can hardly believe it myself."

A/N - Hey guys, sorry for the wait and the fact that the chapter is so short (and shit), I'm forcing my way through writer's block atm which hopefully (fingers crossed) will be resolved asap but, for now, enjoy this angst fluffy thing :) - Phoenix