Merlin 1. 001x009 Excalibur

Arthur sat at the table in his chambers, trying desperately to reign in the torrent of emotions he was feeling - the letter in his hand shaking with the effort.

"_My Dearest Arthur, if you are reading this, then I did not survive my duel with the wraith. I need for you to know that I can think of no better reason to die than to keep you safe. You are more precious to me than anything in this world, more treasured than even Camelot itself. I am deeply saddened to know that you are probably not aware of your importance to me and, had I survived the duel, it was fully in my heart to tell you so myself. But, alas, you are finding out through pen and paper, and there is nothing I regret more than that fact. I am deeply proud of you, my boy, and I have no doubt that you will continue to do me proud in your rule of Camelot. _

_Sincerely,_

_Your Father"_

How could he have done this to him? Having Gaius drug him… fighting his battle for him… Dying! That last is what caused the hiccupped sob to bubble up from his chest. The letter slipped from his fingers and drifted to the floor as Arthur thrust his fist to his mouth and bit down hard on one knuckle to help force back the deluge threatening to engulf him! He was the Crowned Prince of Camelot! He couldn't allow himself this kind of vulnerability, this kind of _weakness_. Still biting hard on his knuckle, he slammed his other fist down onto the table. Why wasn't he in control? His father would be so ashamed! _His father!_ And that thought right there was almost his undoing. How was he supposed to live up to his father's expectations of him? He wasn't ready for the responsibility of being king. He wasn't ready for the responsibility of Camelot to be lain on his shoulders. And, most important of all, he wasn't ready to be _an orphan!_

He heard Merlin come into the room but couldn't order him to leave because that would mean extracting his fist from between his teeth and, right now, that was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. And, if that happened, he wasn't at all sure he would be able to put himself back together again.

"Sire?" Merlin queried softly, as if speaking to a child. Then something must have happened because his volume ratcheted up a notch with a note of alarm. "Arthur!"

The prince had no idea what had Merlin in a tither and, to be quite honest, he didn't quite care. He was finding it hard enough stay composed himself, let alone calming his servant down. He suddenly felt his fist yanked out of the formidable grip of his jaw and clenched his teeth shut, striving to keep the surge of emotion from rising.

"What were you thinking," Merlin demanded, voice still raised in inexplicable panic.

Arthur could feel the younger man's eyes on him but refused to make contact with his own. He vaguely felt something being wrapped around his fist and realized that his teeth must have broken the skin surrounding his knuckles. But realizing it and _feeling _it were two totally different things.

"Are you all right, sire?"

His servant's voice had flowed down to a whisper of disquiet, once again. Arthur was pretty sure he preferred panic, for the concern had a much better chance of utterly demolishing the defenses he had so diligently erected over the past… few hours? _How long has it been since my father died?_

"About 12 hours, sire," Merlin informed him softly.

Oh, he hadn't realized he'd asked that question aloud.

"Have you been sitting here like this all night?"

Instead of answering, Arthur stared down at the now blood soaked rag and cocked his head to one side in wonder, curious as to how he could be feeling so much and yet so little at the same time. So close to breaking on the inside and so numb on the out. His curiosity was quickly extinguished however by the threat of another sob expanding in his chest.

He surged to his feet and stalked over toward the window, yearning for some distance between himself and Merlin. Not quite comprehending why, but craving it just the same. His need for solitude seemed not meant to be, however, as he heard Merlin pick the letter up off the floor, imagined him quickly reading it, then felt him step closer, stopping only a few feet from Arthur's back.

"Sire."

The word sounded so incredibly mournful that Arthur had to bite down on the inside of his cheek this time, barely holding back the flood which was now so close to the surface.

"Arthur," Merlin tried next, placing his hand on the slope of Arthur's shoulder.

The contact was akin to an electric shock and Arthur flinched out from under it, knowing without a doubt that any form of comfort would be his downfall! He backed away from the window and, more importantly, Merlin. But his servant, stubborn as ever, merely followed. Arthur felt the undeniable urge to bolt out of the room like a child. He fought the impulse, however, determined to stand and face this like a man. Like a Knight. Like the Crowned Prince of Camelot.

Merlin stepped even closer to him. So close, in fact, that Arthur's downward gaze could see the toes of their boots almost touching.

"Arthur," Merlin said once again, this time more in plea than anything else.

He could do this. Merlin was just his servant, after all. All he had to do was look him in the eye and order him to leave. Easy. Simple. Taking a fortifying breath and gritting his teeth, Arthur raised his head and made eye contact with said servant. Apparently, he should have taken into account that Merlin was not merely a servant but a friend. Possibly Arthur's closest friend. His only _true_ friend. He would kick himself later for not considering that all important fact because as soon as their eyes met, as soon as he witnessed firsthand the massive amount of concern in his young friend's gaze, the tears welled up from their well-fortified refuge. His planned words 'Leave me' found themselves stuck in his throat.

This time, Merlin placed a hand on each of his shoulders, effectively stopping any kind of escape. Though, Arthur knew he could easily overpower Merlin in physical strength, he had absolutely nothing to stand up against the brotherly love so apparent in his servant's – his _friend's _– countenance. But, for some reason, Arthur couldn't bring himself to look away. Their gazes were seemingly locked together. Which was why Merlin had no trouble seeing the tears fill his eyes, then slip unhindered down his cheeks. Arthur felt himself flush with embarrassment and shame.

"It's okay, sire," Merlin whispered, being sure to use the title of respect. "It's just you and me, here. If I tell anyone, you can easily make my life miserable, remember?" He sealed the statement with a sad smile to try to ease his master's obvious discomfort at showing this kind of vulnerability. And it seemed to work, as Arthur's defenses started to crumble. Merlin watched, his own heart breaking, as Arthur fought valiantly to hold back the sobs even as the tears continued to roll down his face.

Not knowing what else to do, Merlin pulled him gently forward and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and back, moving one hand up to cup the back of his head. He felt Arthur double over a bit with his effort, one arm wrapped around his middle, causing Merlin to stoop a little to keep him in his embrace.

"Stop fighting it, Arthur," he whispered into his friend's hair. "Just for once… stop fighting."

Finally, the first real sob broke free. Then another. And another. Merlin's embrace tightened, holding Arthur even closer against his chest. When the prince's knees buckled, Merlin lowered them both to the floor, doing his best to slow Arthur's descent, ending up with one leg on either side of his friend's trembling form.

They sat that way for several minutes, Arthur curled up against Merlin's chest and stomach, until his grief ran dry for the time being and his exhaustion slowly took over. Before long, Merlin felt his friend lean more heavily against him and knew that he had finally succumbed to sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gently raked his hand through the dirty blond hair and whispered, "Clot pole."

THE END

_A/N Thoughts? Reviews are like chocolate! XD_


	2. 001x013 Le Mort d'Arthur

_A/N My apologies first for the delayed chapter, second for it being only part one. Mac, my cat of 14 years, my beautiful baby girl, passed away in my arms last Friday, August 8th at 1:39pm. She'd stopped eating on Monday night, and was diagnosed with borderline stage 4 renal failure on Tuesday. :-'( I was devastated to be faced with the choice of life vs. quality of life. But she knew this and took that decision off my shoulders. She passed away on our way to the vet - I was looking into her eyes and knew the moment she was gone. :-'( She now has two forever homes - one in heaven, and the other in my heart. I will love her for eternity! *tears* She was the light of my life, her absence is profound and unmistakeable! ~Kelcor_

_A/N 2 Any italics after this point indicate a scene and/or dialogue taken directly from the episode "Le Mort d'Arthur" 1x13. Part II will hopefully follow soon. _

Part One

Merlin didn't regret trading his life for Arthur's. He did it in one way or another every time Arthur was in danger. Whether it was putting himself in the line of fire or risking his magic being found out when he cast a spell to thwart an enemy's efforts to kill the prince.

That being said, it certainly didn't mean he _wanted _to die. He was going to miss Gaius, Gwen, even Arthur – though, he'd likely never admit that last to the already arrogant prince. But that's what sacrifice was all about – giving up one thing you love for another. Uh oh. He had to be sure not to voice _that_ piece of wisdom to anyone. If knowing Merlin was going to miss him would increase the size of Arthur's ego, there was no telling what the word _love _might do… the man's head might just explode! That, or he'd never let Merlin live the term of endearment down.

Truth be told, though, Arthur was like an older brother to Merlin. An annoying, conceited, pompous older brother but an older brother just the same. And despite the prince's negative qualities, he had a lot of redeeming ones, as well – honour, courage, kindness (when he wanted to be), and many others that Merlin refused to recite, even in his own head. But it was those qualities, and the whole 'brother' thing, that made it so easy for Merlin to offer up his own life for Arthur's. Besides, what's the life of a servant compared to that of a prince?

Unfortunately, Gaius had figured out what Merlin had done and what he was planning to do. The man knew him almost better than he knew himself! Gaius could never understand Merlin's willingness to sacrifice himself. Well, that wasn't quite fair. His mentor understood, he just refused to accept it. He would keep looking for another alternative, Merlin knew that without a doubt. But there _was_ no other alternative. This was it.

Arthur was another person who would never accept Merlin's sacrifice, the wizard was certain of that. That was yet another of the prince's redeeming qualities – his overpowering need to protect those he cared about. He would never condone anyone dying for him, even his servant, which he had proven on more than one occasion. But this was Merlin's destiny, to make it possible for Arthur to create and rule over Albion.

Thankfully, the prince would be easier to deceive than Gaius. He would never suspect Merlin to be his protector, let alone someone who would sacrifice himself for his master. In his defense, however, that was exactly the way Merlin had played it over the past several months. Much easier to hide his magic if Arthur assumed him to be a klutz and a coward, after all.

Not to say that didn't annoy Merlin from time to time but, although his destiny to protect the future king of Albion was an important mission, it was also, sadly, a thankless one. Again, made much easier by the fact that Merlin had come to care about Arthur so much. Something that had become increasingly difficult to deny as their master-servant relationship had become more and more like friends… or, dare he say it, brothers.

All these thoughts whirled around in Merlin's mind on constant repeat as he and Gaius headed for Arthur's chambers with the potion to cure him. Once there, Merlin found himself completely focused on his friend. As he looked upon Arthur's pale and sweaty countenance, heard the occasional grunts of pain, everything but his brotherly love for the prince was promptly swept from his mind. It took a couple moments for him to realize Gaius was calling his name.

When Merlin was finally able to tear his eyes away from his friend's face, he saw that Gaius was looking up at him with such sympathy it made Merlin's heart clench. No! This was going to work. Arthur _would_ be cured.

"I need you to raise his head for me, Merlin," Gaius requested quietly. "We need to finish this before Uther returns."

Challenging Gaius' sympathetic gaze with one of desperate defiance, Merlin nevertheless showed his appreciation to his mentor with a small smile before gently lifting Arthur's head and shoulders just enough for him to sit behind his prince and cradle his head in his lap.

The movement disturbed Arthur's already fitful sleep, however, apparently causing even more pain and discomfort as the prince whimpered softly in a way that he would never allow himself were he awake.

His heart breaking once again for his friend, Merlin shushed him softly, running one hand through the dirty blond strands in a soothing motion. Within a few moments, Arthur drifted back into sleep.

Gaius glanced back at the door, then eased the prince's mouth open and poured the potion between his lips. Doing his part, Merlin massaged Arthur's jaw and throat to encourage him to swallow the liquid that was to save his life. But, even as they did this, Uther walked into the room.

"_What are you doing, physician? What are you giving him?"_

_Startled, Merlin and Gaius looked up towards the door. They exchanged glances, afraid that they'd been caught. "It's a…" In an effort to protect Merlin, Gaius lied to the king. "It's a tincture, made from the lobelia plant. An ancient remedy for poisonous bites."_

_Merlin watched the conversation, trying to hide his desperation from the king. He was going to die anyway but if he were to be executed, he might die without knowing if Arthur had survived or not and that was not acceptable. He had to know that Arthur was okay._

"_A cure," Uther said, reluctantly encouraged._

"_We hope," Gaius cautioned him. _

_Uther's gaze fell on his son, still unconscious on the bed, his head raised and cradled in Merlin's arms and lap. Anxiously, he stepped towards the physician and his son's servant. "Do you really think it will have some effect?"_

"_It's our last resort, sire." Gaius turned and squeezed the last of the potion into Arthur's mouth. This time, the prince swallowed it willingly, even eagerly, as if sensing it's true purpose. _

_Seeing this reaction, the first sign that his son may yet recover, Uther felt his heart swell with anticipation. _

"_Perhaps you should allow him to rest," Gaius suggested._

"_I will not leave him," the king retorted firmly. Barely noticing as Gaius and the boy bowed and left the room, Uther retook the seat next to Arthur's bed and watched his son anxiously for any further sign of recovery._

Sadly, it was not long before it became clear that, although the fever had begun to taper off, it was not finished with his son, for the nightmares returned. Part of Uther couldn't help but wonder how many nights Arthur had suffered from these night terrors even when healthy. He hoped never but knew that was unlikely with the weight which was present on the young man's shoulders since as far back as Uther could remember. Starting with the knowledge that his mother had died during his own birth. The king had done his best to relinquish his son of any and all guilt in that matter – short of telling him the whole truth about that horrible night.

Uther felt responsible, of course, but only in the way that he should have seen through the evil witch Nimueh's deception. Had he known that Ygraine's life would be the one sacrificed, he would never have agreed to the bargain in the first place, of that he was certain. But Uther had no choice but to ensure his son never found out the truth. Arthur had always been ruled by his heart and would not understand the part Uther had played in his mother's death.

As if on the same wavelength as his father, Arthur mumbled "Mother," in his delirium induced dreams, his head tossing from side to side. When grunts of pain joined the mumbling, Uther removed his gloves and, once again, stroked the side of his son's face with the blade of his hand. This time, however, it had little to no effect. Arthur's mostly incoherent words became even more fevered, his tossing and turning increasingly erratic, making Uther concerned that his movements would tear the bandages and aggravate his wound.

Not knowing what else to do, and unwittingly taking a cue from Arthur's servant, Uther removed his jacket and sat next to Arthur on the bed. He slipped an arm beneath the still feverish shoulders and proceeded to lift his son's upper body enough to slip behind him and cradle him against his chest. He rocked him from side to side, much like he had when Arthur was but a boy. At first, Uther was worried he had taken the wrong course of action because this seemed to cause his son further discomfort, but a minute or two later, Arthur was on his side, his head resting on the king's shoulder, his body curled into the protective hold only a father could provide.

Sighing with relief, it took another few moments for Uther to realize the nightmare seemed to have disappeared, as well. Cupping his son's jaw with his palm, stroking the hair above his ear with his fingertips, Uther tightened his hold around the warm shoulders and settled in for the long haul, not caring in the least what Arthur's reaction would be to such child-like treatment. Mortification, no doubt. Well, his son would just have to endure his humiliation because Uther was exactly where he was needed and wasn't going anywhere until his son was well again.

The next morning, Merlin was headed to Arthur's chambers to say goodbye. No matter what Gaius said, he just couldn't let his mother die, especially as a direct results of _his _choices! So, he ran over in his head the dialogue he had planned out. Words that would increase in their meaning after he was gone, giving Arthur direction but also letting the prince know, after the fact, how important he had become to his servant.

Several hours later, Arthur was lying in bed, alive and well. Trouble was he couldn't sleep. His conversation with Merlin earlier that day kept running over and over in his mind. Some of the statements were so out of character for his servant. But, no, that wasn't it, exactly. It wasn't the words so much as the tone in which they were spoken.

"_Oh, I know who you are…"_

"_Good."_

"_You're a prat, and a royal one."_

The more Arthur thought about it, the more he realized that it was also the look in Merlin's eyes. It was so… intense. And sad.

With a grunt the prince flipped over onto his stomach. Why was he bothered by this? Merlin was his servant. It wasn't like they were _friends, _or anything. Regardless, the fretting continued. He just didn't seem able to shut his brain off long enough to go to sleep.

"_Are you ever going to change, Merlin?"_

"_No, you'd get bored. But promise me this, if you get another servant, don't get a bootlicker."_

"_If this is you trying to leave your job – "_

"_No. I'm happy to be your servant… until the day I die."_

That statement was especially disturbing to him but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Merlin was always throwing out cryptic phrases in an attempt to annoy Arthur. It usually worked, and today was no different.

"_Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin. Other times…"_

"_Well, I know you. And you're a great warrior. One day, you'll be a great king."_

"_That's very kind of you."_

"_But you must learn to listen as well as you fight."_

"_Any other pointers?"_

"_No. That's it. Just… don't be a prat."_

And that's when it struck him. Merlin was saying goodbye. But… he said he wasn't leaving his job. Arthur flipped onto his other side, sighing with frustration at the puzzle that was his servant. _The sun is coming up, for crying out loud, and I have yet to get any sleep._ _One of these days, Merlin, I'm going to kill -– _

Arthur sat up in bed so quickly his head swam a bit. Evidently, he still had a bit of recovering to do. He shook his head to clear it. '_No. I'm happy to be your servant… until the day I die.' _Arthur's heart stuttered a bit in his chest. _'… until the day I die.' _ The prince jumped out of bed and, fighting the dizziness that threatened to engulf him, dressed as quickly as he could. What trouble had Merlin gotten himself into this time, and why hadn't he come to Arthur for help?

His still aching body caused him to take longer than usual to get dressed – not to mention the absence of his servant – but he made up for it by racing down to Gaius' chambers, ignoring the incessant throbbing in his shoulder and realizing belatedly that he'd forgotten to put the sling back on after getting dressed. No matter, he'd get Merlin to help him with that once he solved whatever problem had his servant in such a tither. Because Merlin was going to be okay. He _had_ to be, otherwise... Arthur refused to finish that sentence. He even more adamantly refused to admit _why_ he refused to finish it.

He reached the downstairs hallway just in time to hear Merlin yell, "NO!". Next thing Arthur knew, the servant in question was bolting out of Gaius' chambers and taking off down the hall in the opposite direction. Arthur called out to him but received no answer. Curious, and increasingly concerned, Arthur entered Gaius' chambers. He looked around and nothing seemed out of place. He rushed to Merlin's room, hoping that maybe he could find a clue as to what was going on. It was something big, he could feel it. That intuition was quickly confirmed when he saw Merlin's mother, Hunith, lying in his bed, infested with sores. His heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches as he turned and finally made the decision to chase after his servant, knowing Merlin would do absolutely anything for his mother and fearful for what that course of action might be.

As Arthur headed for the door, a slight movement caught his eye and he pivoted just in time to see a piece of paper flutter to the floor. He picked it up and realized immediately that it was a letter from Gaius, meant for Merlin. Deciding his nosiness was in his servant's best interest, the prince quickly read the words scrawled on the page. Your life is destined for greatness? Become the greatest… the next word was smudged, seemingly by a tear, but it looked like it maybe said 'Warrior'. Merlin? A warrior? Was Gaius dipping into the cider now instead of Merlin?

For some reason, Arthur couldn't seem to take his focus off that tear smudge. It was sad, yes, but there was something about what was _beneath _the smudge that screamed for his attention. He sequestered it away to the back of his mind for further investigation later and continued reading. _"To have known you has been my greatest pleasure and to sacrifice myself for you is but an honour."_ Sacrificing himself for Merlin? What was going on here?

Shoving the letter into his jacket pocket, Arthur took off after Merlin, worried what his servant… okay, his _friend_ might do!

Mounting the horse had been even more difficult than getting dressed but he was a warrior and had had to swallow more pain than that in the past. So, now, his horse galloped along not very far behind his servant's. Arthur didn't miss the fact that Merlin must be awfully distracted to not have noticed he was being followed. True, Arthur had called his servant inept (or worse) on more than one occasion but he never really meant it… much. Even on Merlin's worse days, he was never quite as incompetent as this. Arthur wasn't even trying to _hide_. He was just racing after his friend, out in the open, with little to no concern for concealment. Of course, he didn't wish to be observed by any of Camelot's enemies, so he exhibited some caution in that respect. But it wasn't like they were riding through enemy territory on some top secret mission. This was Merlin. On a horse. Racing off to…

Come to think of it, Arthur had absolutely no idea where they were headed. With his mind on other things, he failed to see the snake slithering out from the bushes on one side of the road. His horse reared up and…

As distracted and focused as Merlin was on getting to the Isle of the Blessed and stopping Gaius, there was no way he could have missed the panicked neigh of a horse somewhere behind him… or especially the cry of alarm from… no, it couldn't be…

Merlin glanced over his shoulder even as he pulled his own horse up short, then turned around. Sure enough, there was Arthur lying on the side of the road. Well, to be honest, all the wizard could really see was the top of the prince's head. But he'd know that tuft of dirty blond hair, anywhere.

He glanced back in the direction he'd been heading, then returned his gaze to Arthur. He was in a hurry but he couldn't just leave the prince there. So, he gave his horse the direction and they trotted back to his currently unconscious friend – and Merlin couldn't help but wonder about how many times his royal highness had been knocked out in the time he'd known him.

Merlin climbed down off his horse and knelt down next to his friend. What in the world was he even doing there? How had he known? More importantly, how _much _did he know? The wizard considered using a healing spell but he really didn't have time for all the questions that were sure to come as soon as Arthur woke up. Again, he considered and discarded the thought of leaving the prince there. Keeping his secret was not worth putting Arthur's life in danger. Unfortunately, he also didn't have time to bring him back to Camelot.

So, with a sigh, Merlin hauled Arthur's solid bulk up and over his shoulder, then draped him over the back of the now calmed horse. Hopefully, the prince would remain unconscious until they were – all three of them, because Merlin _was_ going to stop Gaius from sacrificing himself in the wizard's place – on their way back to Camelot. But the young wizard knew that would be hoping for too much.

TBC

_Reviews are always welcome and treasured. ~Kelcor_


End file.

Merlin, Family, Hurt-Comfort