Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Not My Art. Credit to the artist, Feefal.

-

Merlin knew he was dying.

He also knew he'd do nothing to stop it.

It wasn't that he wanted to die, but in order to protect Arthur, he had to let go. Now every spell, every ounce of strength he had left was reserved for shielding the young prince before Merlin would no longer be there to do so.

He had always known love was his fatal flaw, and he thought it ironic that it was so literal.

That love was killing him.

-

It had started off slowly. About a year ago.

A slight cough here and there, nothing too serious. But as his feelings for Arthur grew, so did the disease in his lungs. At first, he just felt out of breath, struggling for air more often than usual. Then the red petals began to appear. He'd choke them up, unable to breathe properly, his chest constricted and tight. At times, it felt as if fire was being poured into his throat, the searing pain and inability to breathe making his vision blur.

It was a rare disease, he found out, after an endless night of poring over his symptoms in Gaius's books. Hanahaki was fatal, a slow and painful death that stemmed from the life growing in the lungs. Eventually, those flowers would block off his airways and tear their roots through his flesh, using his very blood to nurture their growth. It was painful and messy; the victim's final days were reported to be indescribable agony if they had not taken a cure or had their love returned.

Thankfully, the cure had been stated within the book, his heart had leapt with hope when he saw there was a way to fix this, but it soon withered and died as he realised what exactly it was.

The only known cure was amnesia. To forever forget your loved one. Hanahaki was caused by one-sided love, and to forget the person you love most dearly is a pain in itself.

But Merlin didn't even have the option to forget Arthur.

Over the years, he grew to love the prince but knew he could never act on it. Arthur needed to marry a princess or a woman of noble birth to ensure the bloodline of the Pendragons. Not his manservant, who wielded illegal magic.

Merlin was always doomed to die of a broken heart. He just never thought it would be quite so literal. Unspoken feelings like poison in his blood.

If he ever forgot Arthur, he could never knowingly protect him, could never fulfill or even know of his destiny, or be his manservant or friend. He couldn't protect a man he never knew.

So he'd decided that until his last breath, he would do anything and everything in his power to ensure Arthur's safety, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

That was until Arthur found out.

-

He'd noticed a change in his manservant; he always did. Merlin had been smiling and joking as usual, but there was something behind it all, a shadow that lurked in his eyes. He was clumsier than usual, often tripping or taking a long time to do simple tasks. When Arthur commented on it, he didn't get a witty response—just a quiet, "Sorry, sire." Something was wrong, but he couldn't understand what.

Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss with his loyal manservant. Despite Merlin's usual cheer, there was a heaviness that Arthur couldn't quite place. Merlin's clumsiness had become more pronounced, his once nimble fingers fumbling with tasks, his steps faltering when he climbed long flights of stairs.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Arthur's concern seeped through his voice as he watched Merlin struggle to carry a stack of books across the room.

Merlin flashed a quick grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just a bit tired, sire. Nothing to worry about."

Arthur knew better. He had seen the weariness etched in the lines of Merlin's face, the way his shoulders slumped and breath grew hoarse.

And then there was the cough. A persistent, dry cough that echoed through the chambers. Merlin had brushed it off at first, when asked, attributing it to the changing seasons, but as the cough persisted, Arthur grew more and more wary of the excuses.

"Merlin, this isn't just fatigue," Arthur pressed, stepping closer. "You're not well."

Merlin's smile faltered, the facade crumbling for a brief moment, before he masked it with a weak smile. "It's nothing, Arthur. Really. Just a cough. Nothing more."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You've had this 'cold' for months. You need to see Gaius."

Merlin shook his head, panic flickering in his eyes. "No, really, it's—"

"Merlin," Arthur's voice softened, a plea laced with concern, "you're not yourself. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm fine, really." He replied, before all but fleeing his chambers.

-

But as the occurrences grew in number, so did his concerns. He often saw his servant leaning against a wall for support, coughing and gasping for air violently. Every time Arthur tried to help, Merlin brushed him off and continued his mantras of "I'm fine."

Clearly, it was not fine as Merlin put it, it was not just a seasonal cold or a slight cough as he first thought. It was clear whatever changed Merlin's mood was connected to his health, but the stubborn idiot wouldn't let Arthur examine him. He'd asked Gaius about Merlin's health but the physician always answered him with riddled responses or told him it was "just a cold".

His friend wouldn't confide in him, and it hurt to know he wasn't worthy of that trust. So he decided to let it be, to wait until Merlin was ready or his patience finally snapped.

Whichever came first.

-

Turns out it was the latter.

The tipping point was a particularly bad fit while Merlin was making his bed. Merlin had been going about his chores as usual, unaware of the eagle-eyed gaze Arthur had kept on him since his sickness. He began to cough again but this time it didn't stop. The violent retching and the deep throaty sounds he made were concerning.

Despite Merlin's attempts to muffle the sounds with his hand, the echo of his suffering filled the chamber. Before Arthur could rise to offer assistance, his eyes froze on a horrifying sight.

Blood.

Merlin noticed too, hastily closing his hand to conceal the evidence, but the damage was done. Arthur's panic surged as he reached for Merlin's hand, feeling the stickiness of crimson liquid seeping between his fingers, dripping down his hand. Inside the palm lay bloodied petals tauntingly dripping with the colour.

Without hesitation, Arthur took charge, his voice edged with urgency and fear as he directed -gently manhandled- Merlin to Gaius's chambers. Bursting through the door he deposited Merlin down on the cot and turned to the startled physician. Holding up Merlin's hand as evidence.

"Gaius, why is he coughing up blood and flowers?" Arthur's voice cracked with a mix of frustration and concern. "It's absurd, what's happening to him?"

Merlin tried to protest, but Arthur silenced him with a stern look. "Let Gaius speak," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Gaius sighed sadly, recovering from the intrusion, having known of the condition for a while now, even if the boy had tried to hide it from him.

"I assume Merlin already knows, isn't that right Merlin?"

Merlin nodded sadly, taking his stained hand back from Arthur's grasp, knowing he was nearing the end. "Yes, I've known for a while now, I'm sorry Gaius."

"What is wrong with you!?" Demanded Arthur, feeling left out of the conversation, fear still overpowering his rational thoughts.

"I have Hanahaki." Merlin began, "It is incurable and fatal. I am sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Arthur's heart stopped.

Merlin's admission hung heavy in the air, each word carrying the weight of inevitability. Arthur's heart clenched with a mixture of shock and anguish as he processed the devastating truth. Hanahaki—a curse whispered in hushed tones, he'd only ever heard it from passing travellers and druids, his father brushing it off as a fairytale.

For a fleeting moment, time stood still as Arthur grappled with the magnitude of Merlin's revelation. The realisation that his closest friend, his loyal manservant, was not going to be at his side.

"You-you what? You're going to d- die? Why didn't you tell me? I would've given you leave to rest or even retire completely, found a cure... Why didn't you tell me?" Arthur's voice trembled with a mixture of anguish and frustration, his desperation laid bare for all to see.

"Because I didn't want you to worry over something that you can't fix," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Besides, like I said, I'm happy to be your manservant until I die."

The realisation struck Arthur like a blow to the chest, the weight of Merlin's devotion bearing down on him with crushing force. "I didn't think you meant that literally! Gods, Merlin, why have you kept working?" His words spilled forth in a torrent of emotion, clutching at his hair frantically.

"I don't want to just sit here thinking about death forever Arthur, I want to live life."

The silence that followed was deafening, each word echoing in the cavernous space between them. "Are you sure there's no cure?" he pressed, his voice edged with a flicker of hope.

"Yes, Arthur, I'm sure." He lied.

Eventually, Merlin managed to coax Arthur into letting him leave the bed, despite the man's continued resistance, convincing him he felt fine enough to do some light chores for Gaius in the safety of the main room.

-

That night Arthur sat at his desk drinking, looking over medical books trying to find something, anything that could help.

He was scanning through every medical book at his disposal for Merlin's sickness, and finally, he came across the disease called Hanahaki.

He felt tears roll down his cheeks as he read the diagnosis and causes, to die from love was truly tragic. He learnt how Merlin would slowly suffocate, drown in his own blood, the vines clogging his internal organs ripping him apart. It sounded torturous. To have to watch his dearest friend be torn apart before his eyes was too much.

As Arthur kept reading the tears kept falling, Merlin must've known about this for months -probably a year at most- and it hurt him deeply that his best friend had never once told him, or asked for time off.

The illustrations of the patients were etched into his mind now, medical diagrams showing a woman's chest cut open, bright blue flowers emerging from the ribs, another of a man, long since passed, beneath a beautiful bush of white gardenias, his body now sustenance for the plant.

Arthur couldn't contain his sobs anymore, hand over his mouth, he attempted to stifle the louder sounds, but the constant hitching in his cries made it impossible. He couldn't stop thinking about Merlin's body, what would become of the man? They would obviously have to give him a proper funeral, he would be damned if he left him to become plant fodder. Would they even be able to see him after? Or would the brutality of the plant ripping out if the body be too much to bear? Oh gods, how would they tell Merlin's mother?

Wiping away his tears, Arthur willed himself to finish the chapter.

Neared the end of the page and the last stub of candle, Arthur's heart jolted.

He reread over the final lines again just to make sure. There it was—a cure. A controlled potion causing amnesia of the respective person. Surely Merlin would have found this? Surely, he would have treated himself?

In a frenzy of panic and hope, he dashed to Merlin's room, clad only in his nightclothes and red rimmed eyes. Bursting through the doors, he paid no heed to the late hour.

Gaius startled, the old man sitting by the fire, once again disturbed by the prince's sudden appearance, "Sire, what are you doing–"

"There's a cure? Why didn't you tell me?!" Exclaimed Arthur, wondering why the physician wasn't curing Merlin.

Merlin came into the room then. Calmly sitting down at the table, not at all surprised Arthur had been researching it. He did too when he found out.

"That is not an option Arthur," Merlin said softly, trying not to anger the prince more.

"Yes, it is, you have the ingredients right here! Don't you want to live?" Arthur sounded desperate.

"It's not that Arthur, it is just that some things are worse than death," Merlin replied, his tone gentle yet firm.

"No, they are not!" He exclaimed incredulously. "How are you so calm about this?!"

"I have accepted it, Arthur, I have for a long time now, don't worry about me ok?" He tried to console.

"Don't worry?" Arthur scoffed, "How can I not worry? You're dying Merlin!"

Silence fell over them. Gaius had left the two alone a while ago, believing Merlin would want his privacy to break the news to Arthur.

They sat quietly for a few moments before Arthur broke the tension.

"Does the person you love know you are dying?" Arthur asked quietly.

"No, they don't know, that is kind of the point of this illness," Merlin replied, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

Arthur ignored the tone.

"They do not know your feelings for them?"

"No," he sighed.

"Then why don't you tell her!? You could be wrong, and they might feel the same way," Arthur urged, frustration evident in his voice.

"I can't, Arthur. I can't risk it. They can never feel the same way," Merlin explained, his tone heavy with resignation.

"Why? Who are you dying for, Merlin? No one is worth your death," Arthur insisted, struggling to understand why Merlin was so willing to sacrifice himself for someone who didn't love him.

"There is someone who is," Merlin said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "They are."

"So we all have to watch you die because you're too scared to tell her?!"

"Yes. I- they will blame themselves for my death if I do."

"It's not about them. It's about you Merlin! They're not the one coughing up blood in a sick bed!"

Merlin didn't reply, just looking at him with that peaceful, calm demeanour, waiting for Arthur to accept it.

Gods why did Merlin always have to put others before himself?

-

Dejected Arthur left to his chambers once again, bidding Merlin good night to rethink the recent events. Trying to think of anyone whom Merlin could love enough to die. He slept fitfully, constantly waking up with tears on his cheeks, at the thought of Merlin being gone.

But yet, as usual, Merlin was being stubborn. He was back again in the morning serving him a late and lukewarm breakfast.

"Merlin, what are you doing here? You should be resting," Arthur said, blocking the door.

"I'll rest when I'm dead, sire." He joked, but one look at Arthur's face told him it didn't land well.

"Sorry." He said unapologetically, ducking under Arthur's arms skilfully. "Anyway like I said before, no point laying around doing nothing, so get up, training starting soon."

"Mer-"

"No arguing, I've made my mind up."

After a few more attempts at protesting, Arthur eventually gave up, sighing as he got ready. As he dressed, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. Merlin's deflection and stubbornness were nothing new, but there was an edge to his fatigue that Arthur couldn't ignore.

-

During his morning chores, Merlin tried his best to hide his coughing fits and gasps for air, he didn't need Arthur worrying any more than he already was. Although his lungs felt tight and heavy he did his best to conceal the blood-stained petals that were, ironically, Pendragon Red. Fate sure did love its fun.

But Arthur knew. He watched his servant struggle to hide his pain, trying to spare him from worry. Arthur had been trying to help in his own way, not throwing things, keeping his room somewhat tidy so Merlin didn't have to work so hard, and asking other servants to muck out the stables and fetch bath water. But none of it seemed enough. The gnawing worry in Arthur's chest grew with every passing day, every strained breath Merlin tried to hide.

Arthur couldn't take it anymore.

He'd seen Merlin have another bad fit while making his bed, but this time it didn't stop. Merlin was nearly keeling over with the violent retching. When Arthur rushed over to help, the fit stopped, but his hand came away stained with blood—too much blood. Their eyes met, both horrified, as Merlin collapsed into Arthur's arms. Arthur had never felt more useless. His chest tightened, and he began to panic. He scooped his limp friend up in his arms and rushed him to Gaius, not caring that blood was getting on his clothes. Merlin's shallow and hoarse breathing urged him to go faster.

As he set Merlin down on the sick bed, he saw that Merlin's face was now a dusty white, a terrifying contrast to the red liquid that stained his chin. Arthur's heart pounded with fear and helplessness. He grabbed Gaius's arm, his voice trembling, "Gaius, please. Do something."

Gaius, alarmed by the sight before him, immediately set to work. He moved with practised efficiency, but the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. "Arthur, fetch me the herbs from the top shelf," he instructed, his voice steady but urgent.

Arthur complied, his hands shaking as he handed the herbs to Gaius. He stayed at Merlin's side as Gaius did his best to alleviate the pain. As Gaius worked, he explained that there was little he could do in the way of a cure. All he could do now was help ease the pain, make Merlin "comfortable," and convince him to take the antidote.

Arthur's heart sank at the word "comfortable." He knew what that meant. He'd heard it enough times in battle when soldiers—good men—were fatally wounded, and the field doctor or a comrade did what they could. But "comfortable" meant death, and he couldn't comfort a dying man in agony with pillows and promised words.

"Comfortable?" Arthur repeated, his voice breaking. "There must be something more, Gaius. There has to be."

Gaius met Arthur's gaze, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Arthur, you know we've tried everything he'll allow us to. All we can do now is ease his pain."

Arthur clenched his fists, feeling a surge of helplessness and anger. "We can't just give up."

Gaius nodded, his heart heavy with the truth. "For now, let's help him rest. He needs his strength."

As the minutes stretched on, Arthur stayed by Merlin's side, never letting go of his hand. He watched as the colour slowly returned to Merlin's cheeks, the potion taking effect. The immediate danger seemed to pass, but the underlying threat loomed large.

-

Arthur handled the situation the best way he knew how. Reason had failed, so he turned to the sword. Sweat dribbled down his face as he hit the training dummy again and again. He didn't stop until his knights called him away, when his hands were blistered and bloodied, the sword blunt, and the dummy reduced to kindling.

His men dragged him away, forcing him to rest under the trees. They had all learned of Merlin's condition and understood Arthur's pain, why their prince was working himself to the point of collapse.

After some time, as his ragged breathing began to steady, Arthur's thoughts inevitably turned back to Merlin. Struggling to sit up, he looked at his men and attempted to gather information about his friend's condition.

"Who does Merlin love?" Arthur asked, his voice rough with exhaustion and desperation, hoping that the other may know more about his manservant.

"No one we can think of, sire," Percival replied, concern etched on his face. "He's very secretive, and I haven't seen him with any girls lately."

Lancelot spoke up, "Well, there was one girl Merlin once loved..."

Arthur's heart sank at the revelation. "Who?" he pressed, his voice hoarse with emotion and regret.

Lancelot hesitated, his expression solemn. "But it can't be," he continued, his voice heavy with the weight of past sorrow, "she died years ago."

Arthur felt a pang of guilt and sadness wash over him. How could he not have known about this? "What?" He didn't know Merlin had had a lover.

"Yes, it was a long time ago but he did love her, and she definitely loved him back, there was no way she could be the one."

Arthur's mind raced, grappling with the realisation that Merlin had endured such loss in silence. "I... I had no idea," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, how did he not know Merlin had lost his love? He was a terrible friend.

"Gods Merlin's love life really is tragic, isn't it?" He laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, the first girl loves him but dies. The next doesn't love him and he is prepared to die for them." Gwaine sighed sadly, intentionally leaving the second statement void of gender.

Arthur felt a bitter laugh escape his lips, tinged with sorrow and self-recrimination. "Tragically poetic, isn't it?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

-

A week later Merlin was bedridden, he couldn't hide the pain anymore, his condition worsening by the day. Arthur hovered near his side whenever duty allowed, unwilling to stray far from his friend.

The knights, too, never left his side when they had free time. Merlin liked it when the knights visited, they didn't make him feel like a condemned sick person, they made him feel human again. Yet, on this particular day, their usual banter was replaced by a solemn quiet.

"It's Arthur, isn't it?" Lancelot finally voiced the unspoken question that hung heavy in the air.

Merlin managed a sad smile, a flicker of resignation in his eyes. "Yes," he admitted softly, knowing they had discerned the truth.

There was a collective sigh among the knights, their expressions filled with empathy and understanding. They had seen the bond between Arthur and Merlin, it was obvious to everyone but them.

"Why won't you tell him, Merlin? I understand why you can't forget him, but he might feel the same," Lancelot pressed gently, his concern etched deeply into his features.

Merlin sighed, his gaze distant yet pained. "I can't, Lancelot. Arthur needs a queen, someone who can be by his side as a strong ruler and bear his heirs. He isn't in love with me."

"But what if he is, Merlin?" Percival interjected quietly. "What if he just hasn't realised it yet?"

"Even if he does feel something, it doesn't change the reality, I’ll die either way," Merlin replied softly, his voice tinged with resignation. "And if I tell him, it will only burden him more. I can't do that to him, not when he blames himself for everything as it is."

Gwaine clasped him on the shoulder, and added with a touch of humour, "Don't make it sound so noble, Merlin. Makes it harder to argue."

They all laughed at that, grateful for the happier mood in the room. But the knights did agree, Merlin was right, either way, it doesn't end happily.

-

The next morning, upon waking at Gaius's table, Arthur knew he had to leave the physician's chambers, he needed some clothes, a bath, probably food, and to placate his father about his absence last night. Getting up quietly he gave Merlin’s sleeping form a soft smile before creeping out so as to not wake Gaius.

When he returned later that morning, finding Gaius out and Merlin's door closed, he gently entered the dark bedroom, seeing Merlin still curled up, asleep.

Deciding the boy should get some sunlight, he turned to open the curtains, upon doing so they immediately snapped back into place.

Arthur's hands stood frozen, 'What in the...' Cautiously he did it again faster this time, only for when the light rays fell on Merlin's bed for the curtain to draw shut.

A mumbled "no" was all he heard from Merlin as the boy turned away from the window and burrowed under the covers. Against better judgement, Arthur opened the curtains again, slowly this time, thinking maybe it could have been a pulley or something.

But the second he let go, they swished shut once more. "Too bright, lemme sleep, Gaius," came a muffled voice.

Horrified, Arthur turned to stare at the pile of blankets. No, no, he couldn't be...

Quickly, Arthur opened the drapes one last time, watching Merlin carefully. They closed again, a faint flicker of gold coming from the head of the bed before the covers were pulled over the sorcerer's head, hiding from the light.

Oh, gods...

Arthur fled from the room, panic gripping his chest.

His mind raced, thoughts clashing chaotically as he tried to process what he had just seen. Merlin, his trusted friend and confidant, using magic. It seemed impossible, yet the evidence was undeniable.

He stumbled through the corridors, barely aware of where he was going, until he found himself outside his own chambers.

Slamming the door and securely locking it, Arthur collapsed onto the bed. Arthur buried his face in his hands, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The betrayal cut deep, mingling with the fear and confusion already consuming him.

He refused to see Merlin the following day...

-

Merlin looked down at his chest to see mottled patches of purple and black appearing, 'internal bleeding,' he thought depressingly. Merlin let out a shaky exhale as he felt along the hard blood blots. He knew he should already be dead, any other person would have succumbed a few months ago, but his magic kept fighting back, repairing every broken blood vessel and artery, but even his magic had its limits, it couldn't remove the disease, and it was slowly losing its battle as the vines continuously grew inside him, draining his magic and blood.

He felt another root push its way through yet another barrier, felt the searching vines find another food source. He let out a choked sob of agony, tears falling down his face. The invasive tendrils gnawed at his insides and robbed him of any semblance of peace. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a reminder of the creeping, relentless growth within.

The only solace he found was that Arthur was soon to return; it was nearly lunchtime, and the prince often made a habit of joining him for the occasion. He smiled at the thought, even though the man was a prat, he did ease the pain in his chest when he was around, making Merlin laugh with his tales even if it was just for a few hours between court and training.

He clung to that hope, willing himself to hold on just a little longer. He listened intently, straining to catch the sound of approaching footsteps. Minutes stretched into an eternity, each one more excruciating than the last.

But the door remained closed, and no familiar footsteps echoed in the corridor. Panic began to set in. He tried to calm himself with rational thoughts. Arthur might have been delayed, perhaps caught up in a meeting or urgent matter. Yet, as more time passed, the fear grew harder to ignore.

He decided that the prince probably had prior engagements and would return tomorrow, Arthur never went more than a day without checking on him. Comforted by that thought Merlin waited in bed for another few hours, smiling brightly at Gwaine and Lancelot as they joined him in the afternoon.

But as the next noon rolled around and Arthur still was nowhere to be seen, Merlin felt abandoned. Of course, he knew that Arthur was a prince, he obviously had more important things to do than sit at his manservant's bedside, but it still hurt nonetheless.

On the third lunch Arthur had missed, Merlin began to think that the prince had written him off already, probably not important enough to warrant any more of his attention. The thought gnawed at Merlin's heart, a painful echo of loneliness and despair. He tried to remind himself that Arthur had responsibilities, that he couldn't expect the prince to drop everything for him. But the silence, the absence of his friend, made the days stretch endlessly, each hour more agonising than the last.

He felt Arthur's absence acutely, his lack of appearance over the last few days cutting deeper than any sword. The pain intensified as if feeding off his despair. He let out another sob, feeling utterly alone. His vision blurred with tears, and he felt himself slipping into a dark abyss of suffering.

-

Merlin awoke to the inviting aroma of dinner, the scent pulling him from the depths of a restless sleep. He took a deep breath, the smell of stew mingling with the faint scent of bread and cheese, and forced himself to sit up, wiping away the crusted tears from his face. The sound of familiar voices just beyond his door eased his loneliness.

Summoning his strength, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, leaning heavily on the wall for support. Each step felt like a monumental effort, but he didn't want it to show in front of everyone else, to see how far he'd declined.

He pushed open the door and was greeted by the warm, inviting light of Gaius's chambers. His friends were gathered around the table, laughter and conversation filling the room. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the comforting scene.

It was a few moments before Gaius noticed him, "Merlin, my boy, just in time for supper."

"Merlin!" Gwen exclaimed, getting up to give him a gentle hug, wary of his weakened state, "How are you?"

"I'm doing alright Gwen, thank you." He lied.

Gaius gestured to an empty chair. "Come, sit. You need to eat."

Gwen quickly moved to his side, slipping an arm around his shoulders to help him to the chair. The others greeted him warmly, their concern evident in their eyes. Lancelot and Percival made room for him, and Gwen ensured he was comfortable before returning to her seat.

Merlin listened, amused, as his friends spoke of the day's events, sharing amusing mishaps and light-hearted gossip. Lancelot recounted a particularly amusing training incident where one of the squires had accidentally disarmed himself with his own sword, sending it flying into a nearby haystack. Gwen's laughter, bright and genuine, filled the room, a soothing balm to Merlin's soul and a welcome change from his otherwise sad thoughts.

As they continued to talk and eat, Merlin found himself slowly relaxing. The warmth and camaraderie around the table eased some of the tension in his heart. He even managed to laugh along with them, though his laughter was quieter, tinged with the underlying sorrow he couldn't entirely shake.

Gaius kept a watchful eye on Merlin, ensuring he ate enough and didn't overexert himself. "You need to keep your strength up," he reminded gently, pouring him another bowl of stew.

"I know, Gaius," Merlin replied, taking another spoonful. The food, though simple, was comforting, and he found himself able to eat more than he had in days.

As the meal went on, Merlin allowed himself to be drawn into the warmth of the moment. Though Arthur's absence still weighed heavily on his mind, the presence of his friends provided a much-needed respite. For a little while, he could forget the pain and the stupid prat, losing himself in the familiar comfort of those who cared about him.

Chapter Text

Days passed, and Arthur kept his distance from Merlin. He couldn't bring himself to face him again, not while his emotions were still so raw. He threw himself into his duties as king, trying to bury his feelings under the weight of responsibility. But no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of Merlin kept creeping back in. He found himself wondering why Merlin had done it, why he had lied. But every time he considered seeking him out for answers, his pride and hurt held him back.

Merlin, his loyal servant and closest friend, had been hiding magic from him all this time. The very thought made Arthur's blood boil. Magic was forbidden in Camelot, the cause of so much pain and loss in his life, and yet here was Merlin, the one person he had trusted above all others, secretly wielding it.

How could Merlin keep something like this from him? After everything they had been through, all the battles fought side by side, all the moments of friendship and trust—it felt like a cruel joke.

-

Arthur paced his chambers, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his heart. Days had turned into a week, and he knew he could no longer avoid Merlin. The anger and betrayal he had felt were now overshadowed by a growing concern. He had heard whispers about Merlin's worsening condition, and guilt gnawed at him for leaving his friend alone for so long.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself and made his way to Gaius's chambers. The corridors seemed longer than usual, each step echoing loudly in his ears. When he finally reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. Summoning his courage, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, seeing the room empty.

His heart sank as he realised that Merlin hadn't gotten up for lunch, they normally ate at the kitchen table but the fact that he wasn't there...

Regretfully, Arthur made his way into the bedroom and the sight that greeted him made his gut clench. Merlin was lying in the small bed, surrounded by blood-soaked linens, and a sick bucket that was far too red-tinged for his liking. His skin was pale, and he looked thinner, his face gaunt with exhaustion. The lively, energetic man Arthur had always known seemed to have been replaced by a shadow of himself.

Gaius was at Merlin's side, adjusting a blanket around his shoulders. The physician looked up as Arthur entered, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "Sire," he said softly, "it's good to see you."

Merlin glanced up, his eyes meeting Arthur's. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room was thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable.

Arthur took a tentative step forward, his voice breaking the silence. "Merlin... I—"

Merlin's gaze was weary, but there was no anger there, only sadness. "Arthur," he said quietly, his voice hoarse. "You finally decided to visit."

Gaius stood and gave Arthur a nod, then quietly left the room, leaving them alone. Arthur moved closer, pulling a chair to sit across from Merlin. He struggled to find the right words, the sight of his friend's frail state making it even harder.

Before Arthur could speak, to confront the sorcerer, Merlin spoke. "Why did you leave?"

His manservant's unusually small voice broke something in him, this was not how he envisioned the confrontation would go, in his mind the situation always played out with Merlin arguing back with equal vigour, forcing Arthur to listen to his side. But this, this frail body unable to do much else other than sleep, asking why Arthur had left him to die alone, made his rage crumble.

"I- I had to Merlin."

"Why? Is everything ok, is there danger?" Merlin asked, desperately, wondering whether or not an attack had happened and he was unable to help.

Arthur took a deep breath, "No. No Merlin Camelot is fine, it's- I know."

He tilted his head, "Know what?"

"You are a sorcerer." The prince stated, emotionless.

Merlin instantly protested, shaking his head, "No I-"

"You have magic! Don't try to deny it Merlin you have lied to me enough!" He snapped, exhausted from the restless nights and pondering.

Merlin paled, more so than he already was. The words struck him like a physical blow, causing his heart to race and his breath to catch in his throat. Arthur's eyes were cold and accusing.

He opened his mouth to answer, to deny it, but one look at Arthur's enraged and betrayed face made him shut it again. Swallowing thickly, Merlin looked down, knowing Arthur would take that as an honest answer.

"You're a sorcerer." He rebuked.

There was no point denying it now, "Yes, sire."

Arthur was silent for a moment, looking away from the boy in the bed, mouth set in a hard line.

"I should have you hanged, my father would see you dead." He finally spoke, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Merlin let out a brittle laugh, "Yeah, dying parts sorted." He wheezed at the effort to speak, "What are you gonna do? Kill me twice?" Merlin asked, echoing the words of Will and strangely Dragoon.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "No," he whispered, resigned. "No, I am not going to harm you."

Merlin looked up, "Then what?" he asked, his voice barely audible, tired.

Arthur sighed deeply, hand carding through his hair yet again. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just... I need time to think."

"Arthur..." he began before the prince could leave, "let me explain before—"

Arthur's expression hardened. "Explain? Explain how you've been lying to me all this time. How you've been using magic right under my nose?" He bit, finally snapping from the emotional toll.

Merlin tried to sit up, but the effort was too much. He slumped back, gasping in pain. "I never meant to deceive you. I was trying to protect you. To protect Camelot."

"Protect me?" Arthur's voice was laced with bitterness. "By lying to me? By hiding who you really are?"

Merlin's eyes glistened with unshed tears but replied with equal vigour. "Yes, Arthur. I had to. Magic is outlawed if you haven't forgotten, if your father or anyone else would have known I'd be burned at the stake, or worse, tortured and given to a witchfinder, do you have any idea how hard it is to lie to everyone I love? To you? So yes, I had to lie so I could protect you."

Arthur took a step closer, the anger still simmering in his eyes. "And what about trust, Merlin? What about friendship? How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?"

Merlin's voice softened, a mixture of desperation and sincerity. "Because despite everything, I have always been your friend. I've stood by you through every danger, every battle. My magic was just another way to do that. To protect you and Camelot."

Arthur paused, the conflict in his eyes evident. "I don't know. I just don't know Merlin. I- I need time."

Merlin looked down, tired from the effort of fighting, "I know."

With that, Arthur left the chambers, leaving Merlin to wallow in his pain and despair.

"I'll be here," He whispered to himself, chuckling raspily at the joke, as unfunny as it was. The fever and blood loss making humour an easy thing.

-

Merlin remained in the dimly lit chambers, his breaths shallow and ragged. The pain in his chest was no longer just from the internal wounds; it now mirrored the ache of an uncertain future with Arthur, however short that was going to be.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat, turning into a cough that sent a wave of agony through his body. He could feel the blood seeping through his fingers where they pressed against the wound, his strength waning with every passing moment.

"I'll be here," he had said, a ghost of a smile on his lips, trying to find some solace in his dark humour. But now, as the silence settled around him, those words felt hollow and empty. The truth was, he didn't know how much longer he would be here—if he would even live long enough for Arthur to make his decision.

The thought of Arthur—his friend, his king, the one person he had dedicated his life to protecting—cut deeper than any blade. The look of betrayal in Arthur's eyes when he had discovered Merlin's magic was burned into his memory. Merlin had always feared this day would come, but he had hoped that somehow, someway, Arthur would understand. That he would see the truth of Merlin's loyalty and the countless times his magic had saved him.

But Arthur had turned away, unable to hide his anger and confusion. He had told Merlin he needed time to think, and with that, he had walked out, leaving Merlin alone with his wounds and his despair.

Merlin closed his eyes, trying to wrest away the tears that threatened to fall. He didn't want to die like this, alone and misunderstood. He didn't want his last moments to be filled with regret and uncertainty. But he didn't have a choice. His fate was in Arthur's hands now, and all he could do was hope that, in the end, Arthur would remember the friend who had stood by his side through thick and thin. The friend who had always been there, even when it cost him everything.

Time seemed to stretch on, the days feeling like years, as Merlin lay there, fighting to stay conscious. He could feel the cold creeping in every day, spreading through his limbs slowly, and he knew he didn't have much longer. His thoughts drifted to the past, to all the moments he had shared with Arthur—the laughter, the battles, the secrets kept and the truths revealed, and he couldn't help but wonder if, when all was said and done, it had been enough.

-

One evening, as Merlin lay weak and feverish, unable to stifle the coughs that wracked his body, Arthur returned to the chambers. His demeanour was conflicted, torn between anger and concern. He hesitated at the door, observing Merlin's pallor and the scattered bloody petals on the floor—a painful reminder of the Hanahaki disease consuming Merlin from within.

The soft creak from the chamber door made Merlin's eyes flutter open. He could just make out a shadow in the dim light, and his heart gave a weak, hopeful flutter.

The figure hesitated for a moment before stepping into the light, revealing the familiar, conflicted face of Arthur Pendragon. Merlin's breath hitched, a mix of relief and fear coursing through him. He tried to read Arthur's expression, to see if there was any sign of forgiveness or understanding.

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice trembled with uncertainty, hoping he wasn't hallucinating in his weakened state

The prince simply nodded, hovering uncertainly at the door. After a few moments he finally spoke, "I've been speaking to Gaius and Lancelot," Arthur began, his voice thick with the weight of the revelations he had recently faced. "They told me everything."

Merlin's heart sank further, realising that Arthur likely knew about his most haunting memories. He struggled to sit up, his body protesting the effort, but his eyes never left Arthur's conflicted face.

"Arthur, I..." Merlin faltered, unsure of what to say next, the silence stretching between them.

Arthur held up a hand, taking a deep breath, "I know that you were born with magic, that you use it to help Camelot, a kingdom that would see you killed, I know you've faced countless battles alone, that you have scars and injuries that you hide under your shirt, I know you care for Camelot, that you're a powerful warlock, that you're kind, and that you're also an absolute idiot."

Merlin blinked at him, eyes watering. "Yeah well, you're an absolute prat," he said back wetly, keeping back sobs of relief that Arthur still wanted him around.

Arthur smiled softly, though still strained and tired, and clasped a hand on Merlin's shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow for lunch, yeah?"

Merlin nodded, grateful for another chance.

-

They soon settled back into their old routine, but with a lot more talk about Merlin's magic. Sometimes, Arthur had to leave when it all became a bit too much, or storm out when things got intense, while other times, Merlin found himself unable to speak about certain memories, closing off and shutting the thoughts out.

But even when the conversation grew awkward or heated, Merlin was still grateful for every moment, cherishing the fact that Arthur was there, next to him, talking to him, knowing everything.

Well, almost everything...

-

One lunchtime, Arthur asked a question that Merlin had only ever dreamed he would hear.

"Can you show me? The-the magic?" Of course, Arthur had witnessed Merlin use it before, but not consciously, not without Merlin willingly showing him.

"Are- are you sure?" Merlin asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

With a flicker of concentration, Merlin summoned a small, harmless display of magic—a gentle glow that danced around his fingertips, illuminating the bed between them. Arthur watched in awe, his disbelief mingling with wonder as he witnessed Merlin's power firsthand.

At that moment Gaius walked in, taking in the impossible scene before him, his ward, and his prince, eating lunch together over the servant's bed, and said servant using magic to impress said prince all whilst he was currently dying because of his love for the prince.

"Merlin!" He exclaimed, walking into the room, watching as both boys jumped. "What did I tell you about using magic?"

Merlin looked down sheepishly while Arthur looked cowed.

"It's my fault, Gaius, I asked him to show me," Arthur admitted, shocking everyone by taking the blame including himself.

Gaius' heart melted a little, how could it not when he witnessed his pseudo-son being defended by the prince, defended against using magic of all things?

"Just, just make sure you don't do it again, you know how it drains you, my boy," Sighing, Gaius left the room to have his own meal.

"It weakens you?!" asked Arthur, annoyed by the idiot's lack of self-preservation.

"No, well not entirely. Not little bits like that, I used to make lights since I was a child, Gaius worries too much, really Arthur I'm fine," he placated at Arthur's dubious expression.

"No more magic Merlin, preserve your strength." Arthur insisted.

Not thinking, Merlin responded, "So what if I die a few hours earlier than I would have, it's worth it to prove magic can be beautiful." He realised his mistake when Arthur froze, a thunderous expression on his face.

Arthur's jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his anger and frustration. Merlin's casual dismissal of his own life cut deep, reminding Arthur of the countless times Merlin had risked everything for Camelot, that he was currently wasting away. The thought that Merlin would willingly shorten his life, even in the name of showing Arthur something beautiful, made his heart clench.

"Merlin," Arthur said through gritted teeth, his voice edged with a mixture of concern and disbelief. "You can't just talk like that. Your life... it's not something to be thrown away."

Merlin met Arthur's gaze, his expression sober as he realised the impact of his words. "I... I didn't mean to..." he started, but Arthur's expression softened slightly, revealing the deep-rooted worry beneath his anger.

"You mean more to me than just proving a point about magic," Arthur continued, his voice quieter now, laced with raw emotion. "Your life matters, Merlin. To me, to Camelot... to everyone who knows you."

"I know."

"No, you clearly don't know Merlin. You're willingly killing yourself, leaving everyone who loves you, because of some girl!" Arthur's voice rose as he spiralled, remembering just how curable Merlin's death was, how much he didn't care that his friend had magic, as long as he was always with him.

"I can't!" He yelled back.

"Why, why can't you?" the prince pressed.

"It's not my place to say."

Merlin's riddles were frustrating Arthur, "It's exactly your place to say, Merlin, it's your fucking life!"

"Exactly, it's my fucking life!"

They stared at each other for several moments.

Gaius walked back into the room, hearing the shouting from the kitchen, "You need to rest Merlin, the magic would've drained you." He turned to Arthur, pity in his gaze, understanding the prince's desperation, "You can visit again tomorrow sire."

The anger deflated out of Arthur, seeing his own helplessness reflected in Gaius's face, he turned back to Merlin. "Please, just- just think about staying okay? I'll see you tomorrow?"

Merlin nodded, giving them a small smile, feeling the exhaustion and pain catching up with him, "Yeah, I'd like that."

Gaius closed the door, seeing the prince out. "He won't change his mind sire, no matter how many of us may wish it." He quietly spoke, pain etched into his voice. After all, Arthur thought, he was losing a son as well. He nodded to the old man as he shut the door.

Arthur stood outside the house, the heavy wood separating him from the room where Merlin lay. He could still hear the faint sound of Gaius's voice, offering comfort, though Arthur knew it was little more than a fleeting attempt to stave off the inevitable.

His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of frustration and fear clawing at him. For all his strength, for all his training and status as a prince, he was powerless in the face of this. The thought of losing Merlin, his loyal friend, his closest companion, was unbearable—unthinkable.

"Tomorrow," he had said, but the word felt hollow. Tomorrow was a fragile promise, a thread that could snap at any moment, when was tomorrow not going to come for Merlin?

Arthur clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he stared at the door. He hated this feeling—this helplessness. Merlin had always been there for him, through every danger, every battle. He had always trusted that somehow, Merlin would pull through, that he would wake up with that infuriating, familiar grin on his face.

-

Arthur returned to Merlin's side the next day, his worry etched deep into every line of his face. He hadn't slept; every time he closed his eyes, he saw Merlin's pale face, heard the rasp in his breath, and felt the hollow ache of helplessness settle deeper in his chest.

Upon first arriving at the physician's house, he'd been told by Gaius that Merlin had yet to awake, whether it was because of the sleeping drought he'd taken the previous night or his body giving in, he wasn't sure. Regardless the prince immediately took up residence beside the bed.

Arthur's worry intensified as he approached Merlin's bedside, where the young warlock lay, still and pale. He could barely reconcile the sight before him with the image of Merlin from the previous day—awake, talking, even managing a weak smile despite the illness that had been steadily wearing him down. It was an illness they all knew too well, one that had slowly drained Merlin's strength over the past few weeks.

"Has he said anything?" Arthur asked, his voice tight with concern as he glanced at Gaius.

Gaius shook his head, his expression sombre. "No, Sire. After you left last night, he fell into a deep sleep and hasn't woken since. The potion I gave him was meant to ease his pain and help him rest, but it seems the illness has taken a stronger hold."

He took a deep breath, nodding, "Okay." He drew a hand down his face, "Okay, th-thank you, Gaius."

Gaius placed a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding. "He's strong, Arthur. Don't lose hope."

Arthur nodded, though the worry still etched deep lines into his face. "I won't," he replied quietly, more to himself than to Gaius. His gaze returned to Merlin, and he swallowed hard, trying to push down the fear that gnawed at him.

"I'm staying with him," Arthur added, his voice firm despite the turmoil inside him. "He shouldn't be alone."

Gaius gave a small nod, understanding the unspoken bond between the two. "Of course, Sire. I'll be back by lunch if you need anything."

As Gaius left the room, Arthur moved closer to Merlin's bedside, pulling up a chair and sitting down heavily. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly as he watched the steady but shallow rise and fall of Merlin's chest.

"Merlin," Arthur called softly, his voice wavering, hoping that the boy would awake. But Merlin's eyes remained closed, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. Arthur reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and placed it on Merlin's shoulder.

"I'm here," he said, more to himself than to Merlin. "I'm here, you stubborn idiot."

He wanted Merlin to wake, to offer some sarcastic remark, to brush off his concern with that infuriating grin. But there was nothing—just the steady, painful sound of Merlin's breathing and the stillness that wrapped around them both.

Arthur sank deeper into the chair beside the bed, the weight of his worry pressing down on him. "You promised you'd see me today," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "So you can't go back on that now, Merlin. I'm holding you to it."

For a long time, he just sat there, watching, waiting. Every breath Merlin took seemed like a victory, yet every pause between breaths was a stab of fear. Arthur had faced countless enemies, had fought in battles where the odds were stacked against him, but this—this was different. This was a battle he couldn't fight, a foe he couldn't defeat with sword or strategy.

As the hours dragged on, the tension in Arthur's chest tightened with each passing moment. The day outside began to shift into late morning, the sunlight slowly dripping into the room, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. Arthur barely noticed the passage of time, his focus entirely on the still figure lying in the bed before him.

Leon had come by earlier, checking in on Arthur and delivering some reports. The knight had offered words of encouragement, eyes drifting sadly over Merlin's still body, his concern evident in the lines of his face. But Arthur had barely acknowledged him, his mind too consumed with worry to think about anything else. Leon had left quietly, understanding the gravity of the situation and promising to handle things in Arthur's stead.

His hand remained firmly clasped around Merlin's, as if his grip alone could keep his friend anchored to life.

As Arthur's hope continued to dwindle, a faint movement caught Arthur's attention. He straightened in his chair, his heart leaping to his throat. He wasn't sure if he had imagined it, but then it happened again—a slight twitch of Merlin's fingers.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, leaning forward, hope flaring in his chest.

There was a long pause, and then, slowly, painfully, Merlin's eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused at first, as if struggling to make sense of the world around him, but then they found Arthur, and a faint, weary smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Arthur..." Merlin's voice was a raspy whisper, barely audible, but it was the most beautiful sound Arthur had ever heard.

Relief flooded through Arthur so intensely that he had to close his eyes for a moment, steadying himself against the surge of emotion. When he opened them again, he saw Merlin looking at him with that familiar mix of loyalty and humour, though his eyes were still clouded with pain and exhaustion.

"You scared the hell out of me, Merlin," Arthur said, his voice rough with the remnants of fear.

Merlin's smile widened just a fraction, though it was clear the effort cost him. "Sorry... wasn't... intentional."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle softly, despite the tightness in his chest. "I know you didn't mean to," he replied, giving Merlin's hand a reassuring squeeze. "But you've been a real pain in the neck today."

Seeing that Merlin needed to rest, Arthur gently let go of his hand and stood up. "I'll get Gaius. He should check on you and make sure everything is alright."

Arthur left the room and quickly found Gaius in the adjacent chamber, having returned from his runs, preparing some potions and bandages. The old physician looked up as Arthur entered, his expression a mixture of concern and hope.

"Gaius," Arthur said, his tone urgent but restrained. "Merlin's awake. I think he needs you."

Gaius's eyes widened slightly with surprise and relief. "He's awake?" he asked, setting down his preparations and hurrying toward the door. "That's wonderful news!"

They made their way back to Merlin's room, where Gaius immediately went to the bedside. He took a moment to assess Merlin's condition, checking his vitals and ensuring he was comfortable.

"Merlin," Gaius said softly, "it's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Merlin opened his eyes slightly, looking at Gaius with a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. "Tired... but... better."

Gaius nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I'm glad to hear that. I have a potion here that will help give you some energy. It's important to keep your strength up."

Gaius prepared a small dose of the potion and held it to Merlin's lips. As he did, Merlin's eyes flickered open, and he gave Gaius a weak but teasing look.

"This one's not gonna put me in a coma again, will it?" Merlin asked, his voice strained but laced with a hint of his usual humour.

Gaius's lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile. "I assure you, Merlin, this potion is just for a bit of energy and won't put you to sleep. It's meant to help you stay awake and regain some strength."

Merlin's eyes seemed to relax at Gaius's words. "Good," he murmured, allowing Gaius to carefully tilt the potion towards him. "I'd rather not give Arthur any more reasons to avoid council meetings."

Arthur, standing nearby, couldn't help but smile at Merlin's attempt to lighten the mood. "I knew you did this on purpose," he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of affection and relief.

Merlin grinned back at him as he drank the vile liquid.

-

Things got worse after that. Merlin began to need the energy drinks every day to stay conscious. Each morning, Gaius would prepare the mixture, knowing that it was the only thing keeping Merlin alert. The energy drinks were a temporary measure, but they allowed Merlin to be present, if only briefly.

Arthur continued to be by Merlin's side, offering his unwavering support. Despite the temporary improvements the drinks provided, Merlin's condition was unmistakably declining. He was often too weak to hold a conversation for long, and his breaths remained laboured and irregular.

"I don't know how much longer my body can do this Arthur," he whispered one day.

Arthur's heart clenched at the thought. He took Merlin's hand gently, squeezing it in reassurance. "You can, you can Merlin, please."

Merlin gently shook his head, falling back asleep.

-

Arthur knew he had to do something, but Merlin had already refused to tell him a name, refused to take a cure, or even seek help, so what could he do?

A traitorous thought that had been sitting in the back of his mind reappeared. Give Merlin the cure whether he liked it or not, slip it into his food or drink... it would be easy enough...

No, he couldn't, he couldn't betray Merlin's trust like that, he'd notice if he suddenly got better even if he couldn't remember who exactly he'd forgotten, he'd still know Arthur drugged him.

But he'd live…

-

The prince sat beside Merlin, holding the little vial he'd asked Gaius to make in his hand as he watched his friend struggle to keep his eyes open. The potion he'd just drunk had given him a small burst of energy, but it was clear it wouldn't last long, so he had to have this conversation quickly. The Hanahaki was taking its toll, and Arthur could see the weight of it in every breath Merlin took.

The vial in Arthur's hand felt heavy, not just because of its physical weight but because of what it represented—a choice, a sacrifice, a potential end to all this suffering. But the cost was one that Merlin had already refused to pay. He'd decided he couldn't deceive Merlin like that, his friend deserved better, a choice, but he'd still do everything in his power to change Merlin's mind.

"Merlin," Arthur said softly, drawing his friend's attention. "You know what this is, don't you?"

Merlin's gaze flickered to the vial in Arthur's hand, and his expression hardened. He nodded, his jaw tightening as he looked back at Arthur. "I know," he whispered, his voice rough. "But I told you, Arthur. I won't take it."

Arthur's heart sank, even though he had expected this response. "Merlin, you're getting worse, you barely woke up this morning," he said, desperation creeping into his voice. "You can barely breathe, let alone walk or do anything else. If you don't take this cure—"

"I know what happens if I don't," Merlin interrupted, his voice sharper than usual. "But you don't understand what happens if I do."

Arthur shook his head, frustration bubbling up. "You'll be free, Merlin. You won't have to suffer like this anymore. Isn't that worth it?"

Merlin looked at Arthur, and in his eyes was a depth of pain that made Arthur's heart ache. "No."

Arthur swallowed hard, understanding the weight of what Merlin was saying. "But you'd be alive, Merlin. You'd have a chance to move on, to find happiness."

Merlin let out a shaky breath, his hand trembling as he reached up to rub at his chest where the flowers had taken root. "And what if that love is the only thing that makes me feel alive?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if letting go of it means losing a part of myself?"

Arthur felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn't thought about it that way—not really. For him, it was simple: save Merlin, keep him alive, no matter the cost. But for Merlin, the cost wasn't just his feelings—it was his identity, his heart, the very essence of who he was.

"Merlin," Arthur began, his voice thick with emotion, "I don't want to lose you."

Merlin's expression softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on Arthur's arm. "You won't," he said, offering a faint, sad smile. "But I can't take this cure, Arthur. I can't let go of something that means so much to me, even if it's killing me. Please, this is my choice to make."

Arthur closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears. "Is there really no other way?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Merlin sighed, a sound filled with resignation. "If there was, don't you think I'd have taken it by now?"

Arthur nodded, though the acceptance was painful. He knew how stubborn Merlin could be, how deeply he felt everything. If Merlin was willing to face death rather than lose his love, then there was no arguing with him. But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

Arthur placed the vial back on the table, where he knew it would remain untouched. He sat down beside Merlin again, taking his hand in his own. "Please, Merlin, just take the potion," Arthur pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "You can't sacrifice yourself for someone who doesn't love you back. At least tell me who she is."

Merlin shook his head weakly, his resolve unwavering even in his weakened state. "Arthur, let it go, I'm not giving you a name so you can yell at them. You cannot force them to love me."

Arthur's patience, frayed from days of helplessness and fear, finally snapped. Anger flared in his eyes as he clenched his fists at his sides.

"Dammit, Merlin!" Arthur's voice cracked with emotion, his frustration boiling over. "Do you not understand what this is doing to me? To all of us?" His words echoed in the tense silence of the room. "How can you love this person so much, she hasn't even visited you once! She isn't worth dying over!" His heart ached with the loss of Merlin's presence throughout the day—his laughter, his jokes, his smile. He didn't know how he would bear it when Merlin left.

"Maybe," he mused smiling, "But I can't bear life without them."

His heart clenched, how was Merlin so head over heels in love with someone he had never seen with him? Merlin spent most of his time with Arthur, where had he found the time to fall in love?

Sitting vigil by Merlin's bedside as he slept fitfully, Arthur watched over him with a heavy heart. Merlin's condition worsened by the hour—he constantly had trouble breathing, his throat slowly closing up, the ominous red petals staining the sheets. Blood clots had started to appear too, the vines must be beginning to break the tendons and muscles, until Merlin couldn't even sleep with the pain anymore, merely drifting in and out of consciousness.

The night wore on, tension mounting once more in the quiet chamber. Arthur couldn't bear to see Merlin suffer, couldn't accept the inevitability of losing his closest friend.

"We can't keep doing this, Merlin," Arthur pleaded, his voice strained with emotion as Merlin took another dose of the energy draught. "Please Merlin, just take the vial, please don't leave me." He begged, holding back tears.

"I-I can't, you know I can't," Merlin replied, his voice strained with pain.

"Why?! You're going to be dead within days, Merlin! You have to live, for Gwen, for Lancelot, for Gwaine, for me! Please, just drink it," Arthur pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.

"I CAN'T!" He said raising his voice, frustrated.

"WHY?! WHY?! MERLIN, WHY CAN'T YOU LIVE? TELL ME!" Arthur yelled, his emotions boiling over.

"BECAUSE I CAN'T!"

"JUST TELL ME WHY!"

"BECAUSE I CAN'T FORGET YOU, YOU PRAT!" Merlin yelled back, his tone filled with anguish. His eyes widened when he realised what he'd admitted. Arthur stared back, stunned, sinking into the chair.

"You—you what?" Arthur's voice trembled with disbelief. Merlin didn't respond. "It's me? Do you love me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with hope and uncertainty.

Merlin looked down, his heart heavy with the weight of his confession.

"Oh, Merlin," Arthur whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his heart pounding with a flood of feelings he had kept buried for years.

"It's not your fault, Arthur," Merlin insisted, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes. He squeezed Arthur's hand tightly, a desperate attempt to comfort him. "I'm choosing this. Okay? It's okay." he reiterated, hoping to keep Arthur from breaking. Knowing that he was the reason for Merlin's death would shatter the prince.

-A-

This time, the world didn't stop; it crashed. It was him, Arthur's realisation hit him like a sledgehammer—he was Merlin's killer. How could he have done this to him? Why couldn't Merlin forget? His friend was being torn apart by him. An emotion he had kept suppressed for so many years finally bubbled through the cracks of his world.

With trembling hands, Arthur gently lifted Merlin's tear-stained chin, seeking solace and forgiveness in his friend's eyes, now equally filled with tears.

"Merlin," Arthur began hoarsely, his voice trembling with the weight of his realisation. "I... I didn't know. I didn't realise..."

Merlin's eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met Arthur's with a mixture of pain and understanding. He reached up, placing a trembling hand over Arthur's where it rested on his chin.

"It's not your fault, Arthur," Merlin whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "You didn't know. I couldn't burden you with this."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Arthur asked, his voice cracking with anguish, his own tears now streaming freely down his cheeks.

Merlin shook his head slightly, a sad smile touching his lips. "I couldn't risk losing you, Arthur," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our friendship... it means everything to me. If- if you knew, you'd always blame yourself for not loving me back, but it's not your fault. It's not! Ok, Arthur? It not."

Arthur's heart broke at Merlin's words, the selflessness of his love cutting through the turmoil of emotions raging inside him. He reached up, his hand covering Merlin's where it still rested on his chin, their fingers intertwining in a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I'm so sorry I couldn't..."

Merlin pressed a finger to Arthur's lips, silencing him gently. "It's not your fault," he insisted, his voice trembling. "I chose this, Arthur. I chose to love you, even knowing... knowing we could never be together even if this disease didn't exist, you needed an heir, you need a noblewoman at your side."

"Merlin," Arthur managed, his voice catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right words. "I... I never realised. I didn't see..."

Merlin shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek as he gently withdrew his hand from Arthur's grasp. "You couldn't have known, Arthur," he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I never expected you to see me in that way. It was always enough to be by your side, to serve you as your friend and advisor."

Arthur reached out, cupping Merlin's face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears that continued to fall. "I don't want to lose you, Merlin," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I can't bear the thought of a world without you in it."

Merlin closed his eyes, allowing Arthur's touch to soothe the ache in his heart, even as his own tears fell freely. He leaned into Arthur's hands, savouring the warmth and the comfort they offered amidst the turmoil of his condition.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured, his voice trembling with the weight in his lungs. "I don't want to leave you either. But this... it's beyond our control."

Arthur's grip on Merlin's face tightened ever so slightly, his fingers caressing Merlin's cheek with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his love. "There must be something," Arthur pleaded softly, his voice thick with desperation, racking his head for the answer. "Take the potion!"

"What?!"

"The potion! If you take it you can live."

Merlin stared at Arthur, his heart sinking at the suggestion. He understood the implications of what Arthur was offering—the chance to live, but at the cost of forgetting everything about Arthur, their friendship, and their shared moments.

"Arthur..." Merlin's voice caught in his throat, emotions swirling within him. "I can't."

"But Merlin, you'll die," Arthur pleaded desperately, his hands trembling against Merlin's face. "I can't lose you like this. Please, take the potion."

Merlin closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. He couldn't bear to see the pain in Arthur's eyes, nor could he fathom a life without memories of the man he loved. "I'd rather die with my memories intact than live without them," he whispered, his voice filled with resolve despite the anguish in his heart, he couldn't forget the prince, his destiny, his feelings.

Arthur's shoulders sagged in defeat, his fingers sliding from Merlin's face to clench into fists at his sides. "We can make new memories, start over. I can't lose you, Merlin," he murmured brokenly. "I can't..."

"It's ok Arthur, it's ok..."

Arthur shook his head, gathering Merlin up in his arms as he held him tight, clinging to his best friend with everything he had.

As Merlin's breaths grew shallower, Arthur held him close, rubbing his back through the long periods when he hunched over a pot, spitting blood and petals staining his lips.

"Merlin," Arthur murmured softly, his voice choked with tears. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Merlin struggled to catch his breath, his body wracked with pain. Each cough felt like knives tearing through his chest, but he found comfort in Arthur's presence beside him. He gripped Arthur's hand tightly, finding solace in the warmth and strength it offered.

-

The next day dawned with a cold, pale light. Arthur hadn't left Merlin's side, refusing to leave him alone even for a moment. Merlin's condition had worsened overnight, the once faint coughs now deep and racking, shaking his entire frame. The flowers inside him were relentless, and it was clear that the end was drawing near.

Arthur had tried to remain strong, but the sight of Merlin slipping away was more than he could bear. He watched helplessly as the man who had always been his greatest source of strength and support grew weaker with each passing hour. It was a cruel twist of fate that the magic that had so often saved them both was now the very thing that was taking Merlin away from him.

By the evening, Merlin could barely speak, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Arthur had tried everything to ease his pain, to bring him some comfort in his final moments, but nothing seemed to help. All he could do was hold Merlin, offering what little solace he could.

"Don't leave," Arthur murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as Merlin lay exhausted and frail in his arms.

Merlin shook his head slightly, a sad smile touching his lips despite the agony etched on his face. "Thank you," he whispered, his eyes meeting Arthur's with love and acceptance.

Arthur gazed into Merlin's eyes, seeing the truth reflected there—Merlin had always been more than just a servant, more than just a friend. He was someone Arthur had relied on, trusted, and cared for deeply, a realisation began to dawn upon him—a realisation that stirred his heart with a mixture of confusion, guilt, and undeniable truth.

Arthur shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Don't thank me, Merlin. It's me who should be thanking you. For all the times you saved me, for standing by me... for being my friend."

Merlin's eyes glistened with tears, and he managed a small, pained smile. "I... would do it all again... for you," he whispered, his voice growing fainter with each word.

Arthur's heart shattered as he realised that this was it, that Merlin was slipping away from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "Please, Merlin... don't go," he whispered, his voice breaking with desperation. "I can't do this without you."

Merlin's gaze softened, and he gave Arthur's hand a final, gentle squeeze. "You... can," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "You're stronger... than you know."

With those last words, Merlin's eyes drifted shut, and his grip on Arthur's hand loosened. Arthur felt the moment when Merlin's soul left his body, the light fading from his friend's face as the last breath left his lungs.

"Merlin... no," Arthur choked out, his voice filled with anguish as he pulled Merlin's lifeless body closer. He held him close, tears streaming down his face as he rocked back and forth, the pain of loss overwhelming him.

Arthur held Merlin's still warm hand, his heart heavy with grief and disbelief. The room felt too quiet, too still, as if the world had stopped turning. He had never imagined a future without Merlin by his side — his loyal friend, his trusted advisor, and now, his beloved.

Tears streamed down Arthur's face unchecked, his voice trembling as he spoke to Merlin's lifeless form. "Merlin... Why did you have to leave me?" he choked out, his words thick with sorrow.

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. The weight of regret and unspoken words hung heavily in the air. Arthur gently brushed a lock of hair from Merlin's forehead, his fingers lingering on the cooling skin. How many times had he taken Merlin's presence for granted, assuming they had all the time in the world?

He sat in Merlin's room, silently rocking Merlin's body back and forth in his arms, head buried in his neck. He heard Gaius' choked sob from the other room, but he couldn't bring himself to let the old man in, not wanting him to see his dead pseudo-son yet. He'd let Gaius see him once he'd cleaned Merlin up, wiping away the blood stains and tears so the physician didn't have to. But when he was ready, right now Arthur couldn't imagine letting the boy go, instead clinging to him as he came to terms with the hollow feeling in his heart.

Arthur's chest heaved with each ragged breath as he held Merlin's body close, his grip tightening as if he could somehow pull him back from the brink of death. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by Arthur's soft, anguished sobs.

"Please," Arthur whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile stillness around them. "Please, come back. I can't do this without you."

But there was no answer, no sign of life returning to Merlin's still form. Arthur's tears fell freely onto Merlin's tunic, soaking into the fabric as he rocked back and forth, desperately holding onto the one person who had always been there for him, the one person he could not bear to lose.

"I should have told you," Arthur murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his unspoken confession. "I should have told you how much you meant to me, how much I needed you."

The words felt hollow in the emptiness of the room, swallowed up by the silence that had settled over them like a shroud. Arthur's hand moved to clasp Merlin's, his thumb brushing over the cool, lifeless fingers, willing them to move, to give any sign that Merlin could still hear him.

After many hours, when his tears had run dry, he looked at Merlin's face, brushing the stray hairs from his eyes. Arthur's gaze lingered on Merlin, his heart aching with the weight of everything he had never said. In the stillness, something inside him began to shift, a realisation dawning in the depths of his sorrow.

Why, why couldn't he have tried harder?

He knew he couldn't force himself to love Merlin, he knew he needed to love a woman, a queen, his father had always made that very clear. Arthur had been raised with the belief that his role was to lead with a firm hand, to uphold tradition, and to ensure that his personal desires did not interfere with his responsibilities.

But he could've tried, I mean, of course, he had feelings for the boy, he had feelings for all his friends. But Merlin was always different, but that didn't mean he had loving feelings towards him, right? He did care for him, but he couldn't love him...

Arthur's thoughts were a jumble, memories of moments he had shared with Merlin flashing through his mind. The laughter, the late-night conversations, the way Merlin always seemed to know exactly what he needed—even when Arthur himself didn't. And yet, he had never allowed himself to see those moments for what they truly were. He had never allowed himself to acknowledge that his feelings for Merlin went far beyond friendship.

But now, faced with the stark reality of Merlin's lifeless form, those teachings felt like chains, binding him to a life of emotional restraint and unfulfilled love. He had never allowed himself to explore or even acknowledge the depth of his feelings for Merlin, choosing instead to bury them under the weight of duty and expectation.

No, he didn't- couldn't, love Merlin, he needed to marry a woman, a noble, his father always said... but he also said magic was evil... no, he did have strictly platonic feelings of friendship with Merlin, always had. He did love Merlin, as one would love a best friend. But he was not in love with Merlin.

But was he in love with Merlin? Yes.

What?

.

.

.

.

.

.

The realisation hit him with a force that left him breathless. "Gods, I'm in love with Merlin," Arthur said softly, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession.

He looked down at Merlin's sleeping face, "Gods Merlin, I think I'm in love with you." He drew a sharp trembling breath, "I think I loved you more than I ever realised, I can't bear the fact that I lost you."

As expected, Merlin didn't respond.

Arthur began to cry anew. He could've stopped this if he'd got over his stupid father's teachings and emotional suppression sooner.

"I love you, Merlin." He sobbed, "I-I love you, and I'm sorry I couldn't say it sooner."

As the words left his lips, a soft, warm glow began to emanate from Merlin's body, faint at first, then growing brighter and more intense. Arthur gasped, stepping back, eyes widening in disbelief. The glow surrounded Merlin like a cocoon, shimmering with a gentle golden light that filled the room.

The flowers that had once been the symbol of Merlin's unrequited love began to dissolve into sparkling dust, their petals fading away as the magic took hold. The glow enveloped Merlin, infusing his lifeless body with a vibrant, rejuvenating energy.

Arthur watched in awe as the colour began to return to Merlin's cheeks, hair floating in suspension of golden light, and a soft, steady rise and fall of breath started again. Merlin's eyes, once closed and still, fluttered open slowly, revealing a depth of feeling and recognition. He looked up at Arthur, his gaze clouded but filled with a glimmer of life.

"Arthur?" He whispered, Merlin's voice was weak but alive, trembling with the remnants of the magic that had brought him back.

Arthur pulled Merlin close, holding him tightly against his chest as if trying to shield him from the pain that threatened to consume them both. "I love you too, Merlin," he whispered fiercely, his voice breaking with the weight of his confession. "I-I love you," Arthur repeated hoarsely, tears streaming down his face unchecked. The weight of his unspoken feelings finally finding a voice as he confessed the depth of his emotions. "I just... I can't believe it took you nearly dying for me to realise it."

Merlin gave him a gentle smile before his eyes slipped closed again.

Arthur held Merlin, his heart aching with every breath, making sure Merlin was still alive and breathing every few seconds. He gently brushed the damp hair from Merlin's forehead, his touch tender and reverent. The room was silent except for the soft, uneven rhythm of Merlin's breathing.

Gaius, who had heard from the main chamber, approached quietly, his face etched with concern and relief. "Arthur, we need to get Merlin stabilised. The magic that brought him back is fragile."

Arthur nodded, his eyes never leaving Merlin's face. "Anything you need, Gaius. Just... Please, save him."

Gaius moved swiftly, preparing potions and casting spells to stabilise Merlin's condition. Arthur remained by Merlin's side, not even flinching at the treasonous incantations spoken, his heart full of regret and hope. He spoke softly to Merlin, his voice a soothing murmur. "I should have told you sooner. But we have all the time in the world now, Merlin, I'm not going anywhere."

As Gaius worked, the room was filled with a soft glow from the magical potions and healing spells. Arthur watched with bated breath, his fingers intertwined with Merlin's.

Minutes felt like hours, but gradually, Merlin's breathing steadied. Gaius looked up, his face a mix of exhaustion and cautious optimism. "He's stabilised, but he needs rest. The magic is still delicate. He'll need time to fully recover."

Arthur nodded, his eyes never leaving Merlin's face as he settled in next to his manservant, Gaius taking his cue to leave. He gently tugged the covers over both of them, making sure all of Merlin's limbs were securely wrapped within the blankets.

He lay beside Merlin, his hand resting protectively on Merlin's shoulder. The warmth of their shared body heat seemed to offer some comfort, and Arthur was determined to be there every step of the way. He adjusted the blankets again, making sure they were snug, his touch tender as if he feared any movement might disrupt Merlin's fragile recovery.

He pressed a gentle kiss to Merlin's forehead, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm here, Merlin. I won't leave you. We'll get through this together."

As the night deepened, Arthur remained by Merlin's side, his own exhaustion forgotten as he watched over the man he loved. His fingers lightly traced Merlin's pale arm, a small but constant gesture of his unwavering presence and affection.

-

He was glad no one else but Gaius knew of Merlin's recent death. If anyone found out that Merlin had come back from the dead, he'd be on a stake and back in Avalon again before he could blink.

Instead, the king and other citizens who had known of Merlin's illness were told that Merlin had taken the amnesia cure, leaving no doubts or questions about his recovery. To the knights and closest friends, they were told that Arthur had realised that he loved Merlin, breaking the curse of death and resulting in Merlin returning to health.

-

When Merlin woke up, he felt disoriented, sore, and weak. The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the curtains of Gaius's chambers, casting a warm light across the room. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze from his mind, and slowly became aware of a presence beside him. Turning his head, he saw Arthur resting beside him, eyes sleepy and half-open filled with concern and relief.

"Arthur," Merlin croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What happened?"

Arthur's expression softened immediately upon hearing Merlin's voice. He opened his eyes fully, his gaze never leaving Merlin's. "You gave us all quite a scare," he said, his voice low and steady. "But you're going to be okay now. Just rest."

Merlin tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he fell back against the pillows. Arthur reached out instinctively, his hand gently pressing against Merlin's shoulder to keep him from moving too quickly.

"Easy, Merlin," Arthur murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that was rare for him. "You're still weak. You need to take it slow."

Merlin smiled weakly, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at Arthur's care. "I'm fine," he insisted, though the exhaustion in his body said otherwise. "Thanks to you."

Arthur shook his head, a sad smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Just focus on getting better."

As the day went on, Arthur stayed by Merlin's side, refusing to leave him alone for even a moment. He made sure Merlin was comfortable, adjusting his pillows, and offering him water and food whenever he seemed able to take it. Their conversation flowed easily, filled with soft laughter and shared memories, the closeness between them more evident than ever.

At one point, Merlin drifted off to sleep, and Arthur watched over him, his heart aching with a mix of relief and something deeper that he was just beginning to understand. He knew he couldn't bear the thought of losing Merlin, and the realisation that he had almost done so filled him with a sense of urgency.

When Merlin woke up again, it was late afternoon. He blinked up at Arthur, who was still laying beside him, his expression soft and unguarded.

"Arthur," Merlin began, his voice still weak but steadier now. "You don't have to stay here with me. I'm fine."

Arthur shook his head, his eyes filled with determination. "I'm not leaving you alone, Merlin. Not after what happened."

Merlin felt a surge of affection for Arthur, his heart swelling with emotions he had long kept hidden. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of Gaius returning to the room.

"Ah, Merlin, you're awake," Gaius said with a relieved smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak, but I'll manage," Merlin replied, glancing over at Arthur. "Arthur's been here all day."

Gaius nodded approvingly. "Good. You need rest, and it's clear Arthur is determined to make sure you get it."

Arthur stood up, stretching his legs. "Actually, Gaius, I was thinking... perhaps Merlin would recover better in my chambers."

Both Merlin and Gaius looked at Arthur in surprise. Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Your chambers, Sire?"

"Yes," Arthur said, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. "I can keep an eye on him, make sure he's comfortable. And it's quieter there, less chance of being disturbed."

Gaius considered this for a moment before nodding. "That might be a good idea. If Merlin's up for it."

Merlin, who had been watching Arthur with a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn't quite name, nodded slowly. "I'd like that," he said softly.

With that decided, Arthur carefully helped Merlin to his feet, draping one of Merlin's arms over his shoulder and supporting most of his weight as they made their way to Arthur's chambers. They moved slowly, taking their time, Arthur eventually picking his manservant up bridal style to make the trip easier. Merlin subtly used his magic to leave the corridors empty whilst they passed, and by the time they reached Arthur's room, Merlin was panting from the effort.

Arthur guided Merlin to the bed, helping him sit down before arranging the pillows behind him. "There," Arthur said, a satisfied smile on his face. "Better?"

Merlin nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and amusement at his prince fluffing his pillows. "Much better. Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze intense as he looked at Merlin. "You scared me, you know," he confessed quietly. "I thought I was going to lose you forever."

Merlin reached out, his hand covering Arthur's. "I'm still here," he said softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Arthur's eyes softened, and he squeezed Merlin's hand gently. "Good," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Because I don't think I could bear to lose you."

As the evening light faded a knock sounded at the door. Merlin tensed, ready to bolt from the crown prince's bed. Arthur laid a hand on his shoulder, "It's George, he won't speak of this to anyone," he assured, looking to Merlin for permission to allow him entry.

Hesitant, Merlin nodded, and to George's credit he barely faltered in his stride at seeing Merlin wrapped in the prince's sheets. The servant simply walked to the fireplace and began to kindle a flame, dutifully standing with his arms behind his back as he awaited his next task.

"We will be requiring dinner for two," Arthur announced, to which George simply nodded, heading for the door. "And, uh, I trust Merlin's presence here will remain anonymous?"

George turned, sending Merlin a slight nod, "Of course, sire."

As the warm glow of the fire in Arthur's chambers filled the room, the tension from earlier in the day slowly began to lift. They had been quiet for a while, content just to be in each other's presence.

Soon enough, George returned, dutifully knocking on the door once more. He had a full tray with one plate, but enough food for three. Arthur internally thanked George for the foresight to not bring two plates, the man should get a raise for his discretion.

"Thank you, George" Arthur replied, nodding as the man bowed and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Arthur turned back to Merlin, his expression softening again as he took in the sight of his friend—his Merlin—sitting on the edge of the bed. "You need to eat," Arthur said, his voice gentle but firm. "You need to get your strength back."

Merlin chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his tired eyes. "Are you going to force-feed me if I don't?" he teased, though he made no move to get up.

"Yes, now open up."

Arthur picked up a piece of bread from the tray, drowning it in the soup so he could chew, waving it playfully in front of Merlin's face like he might feed a child. Merlin rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

"Oh, very well, if you insist," Merlin replied, feigning exasperation but his tone was light. He opened his mouth slightly, playing along with Arthur's antics.

Arthur chuckled, feeling a sense of relief at Merlin's willingness to humour him. He tore off a small piece of the bread and gently brought it to Merlin's lips. "There, see? It's not so bad, is it?" Arthur teased, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of affection and relief.

Merlin accepted the bread with a soft sigh, chewing slowly. His tiredness showed in the way his eyelids drooped, his skin still deathly pale and thin, but there was a spark of warmth in his gaze, something quietly appreciative of Arthur's fussing. "You're worse than Gaius, you know that?" he mumbled between bites, his voice still hoarse from the ordeal.

Arthur laughed softly, though his eyes flickered with a shadow of concern. The sight of Merlin—pale and weakened, breathing shallowly as petals spilled from his lips—was still fresh in his mind. "I'll take that as a compliment," Arthur said, his tone light but strained. "Besides, someone has to make sure you don't cough up an entire garden again."

Merlin chuckled, but the sound quickly dissolved into a brief, ragged cough, his hand instinctively rising to cover his mouth. Arthur shot up in his perch, his heart pounding as if time had rewound to the moment he had feared the most. For a split second, he could almost see the petals again—the delicate, haunting flowers that had nearly taken Merlin from him.

But Merlin waved him off, offering a faint smile, though Arthur could see the slight tremble in his hand. "I'm fine," Merlin said, though his voice was unsteady, betraying the panic that flickered in his eyes. Arthur wasn't the only one haunted by the thought that it might come back.

Arthur relaxed only slightly, his worry not completely soothed by Merlin's assurances. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, watching Merlin with a careful gaze. "You say that, but I'm not convinced," Arthur muttered.

Merlin huffed, an almost affectionate frustration in the sound. "You're starting to sound like a mother hen, you know."

"Well, someone has to be, since you're incapable of looking after yourself."

"That's not true." Merlin's protest was half-hearted, and he knew it. Even now, Arthur was right—he felt brittle, like a gust of wind could knock him down. But admitting it, especially to Arthur, was something else entirely.

Arthur's expression softened. "Just... let me fuss, all right? Humour me for once."

Merlin glanced at him, surprised by the gentleness in Arthur's voice. For all his bluster, the prince's concern was genuine—almost overwhelming in its sincerity. "Fine," Merlin mumbled, taking another bite of food, his movements slow but steady. "But if you start making Gaius' herbal teas, I'm leaving."

Arthur chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Deal."

-

After the meal had been cleared away yet again by George, Arthur glanced around the cosy chamber, his eyes landing on a sleep shirt draped over a nearby chair. It was a soft, worn fabric, perfectly suited for relaxation. With a decisive nod, he grabbed it and turned back to Merlin, holding it out with a teasing smile.

"Here, put this on," he said, his voice playful yet earnest.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his face. "You want me to wear your clothes?" He couldn't help but feel a warmth in his chest at the gesture, a mix of gratitude and something deeper.

"Of course," Arthur replied, his tone light but sincere. "It'll be more comfortable for you. You look like you could use a little extra warmth." He stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief, a playful challenge hidden beneath the surface. "Unless you'd rather wear something less cosy, like your regular clothes?"

Merlin chuckled softly, feeling the flutter of affection in his stomach. "Fine, but only because I don't want to sleep another night in these clothes."

With a grateful sigh, he accepted the shirt, the fabric soft against his fingertips. As he slipped it over his head, the gentle warmth enveloped him, and he found himself smiling at how the shirt hung loosely on him, the sleeves falling past his wrists.

Arthur's gaze softened, and a fond smile tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of Merlin clad in his shirt. "Now you look much better," he said, his voice warm with admiration.

Merlin looked down, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he caught Arthur's gaze. "It's a bit big, don't you think?" he joked, tugging at the hem playfully.

"It suits you," Arthur replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And besides, it's not every day I get to see you in my clothes. You wear them better than I do."

Merlin felt a swell of happiness at the compliment, and he couldn't help but return the smile. "I'll make sure to wear it every night then, if it gets me this kind of attention."

"Deal," Arthur said, unable to hide his grin as they shared a moment of lighthearted banter.

Merlin's eyelids began to droop, the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of Arthur's presence making it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. Despite having slept for the better part of a month, he was still extremely exhausted, worn out from recovering and the drama of the last few hours.

Arthur began tucking Merlin in, a task that felt both absurd and intimate. As the prince, he was used to commanding respect and authority, yet here he was, pulling the blankets up to Merlin's chin, smoothing the fabric as if it could protect him from the world outside.

"You're too thin," Arthur murmured, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary on the soft fabric. The sight of Merlin, pale and vulnerable, tugged at something deep within him.

Merlin attempted a weak grin, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't need a royal bedmaker. I'm perfectly capable of tucking myself in."

"Clearly," Arthur replied dryly, his lips quirking up in a faint smile. "You look like you could use a little more... pampering."

Merlin rolled his eyes, though a flicker of amusement danced in his gaze. "Pampering? Is that what you call it?"

"Yes," Arthur insisted, standing back to admire his handiwork. "The prince will not allow his warlock to suffer in silence under his roof without proper care."

Merlin snorted lightly, but it quickly turned into a soft cough, prompting Arthur to frown. "You've officially lost your mind, you know. The prince tucking in his servant like some doting parent?"

Arthur hummed in response, a playful smirk on his lips as he moved around to the other side of the bed and climbed in himself. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and he settled in next to Merlin, their shoulders brushing together as he pulled the blankets up to keep them warm.

hey lay in silence as the candles dwindled down to firefly lights, casting flickering shadows across the room. The gentle crackle of the fireplace was the only sound, and the atmosphere was peaceful. But beneath that calm exterior, Arthur couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him.

He slipped his hand down over to Merlin's, holding it tightly, reassuring himself that Merlin didn't die, that he was alive and breathing next to him. Merlin squeezed back, his fingers curling around Arthur's with a gentle firmness that sent a rush of warmth through Arthur's chest.

"Hey," Merlin said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm right here."

"I know," Arthur whispered back, "but you nearly weren't." His voice caught in his throat, the weight of his fears spilling out in that moment.

Merlin turned to him, concern etching his features as he took in Arthur's expression. "I'm okay now," he reassured gently, his thumb rubbing soothingly over Arthur's knuckles. "I'm alive, and that's what matters."

Arthur shook his head slightly, fighting back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. "You died Merlin," his heart racing as he recalled the fear that had gripped him during those long nights. "I thought I might lose you, Merlin. I didn't know what I'd do without you."

Merlin's gaze softened, a mix of compassion and understanding in his eyes. "You're not rid of me that easily," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Arthur nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice right now. The overwhelming emotions threatened to spill over, but he found comfort in the warmth of Merlin's presence. Merlin ran a hand through his hair, gently guiding Arthur to lay his head against his chest. The steady thump of Merlin's heartbeat provided a soothing rhythm that eased Arthur's racing thoughts.

"I'm right here, Arthur, always," Merlin murmured.

He felt the prince nod into his chest, wrapping his arms around Merlin's middle, holding on tight.

Arthur lay awake, listening to Merlin's heart beating rhythmically in his chest, a steady lullaby that soothed his frayed nerves. He watched as Merlin's hand had fallen to his side, fingers relaxed and peaceful in sleep.

Arthur shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Merlin, and nestled deeper against him. He revelled in the warmth radiating from Merlin's body, alive and breathing.

As the candlelight flickered and the room grew quieter, Arthur finally allowed his eyes to close, surrendering to the pull of sleep. With Merlin beside him, he felt secure, knowing that together they could face anything that came their way. The last thing he heard before drifting off was the soothing rhythm of Merlin's heartbeat, a sound he hoped would echo in his dreams.