Chapter Text
Gaius’ eyes widen with shock. “Are you sure? It’s only been two days,” he asks, worry clear in his tone.
“I can f-feel it,” Merlin cries, screwing his eyes shut as his stomach twists and his eyes pulsate. “Is-Is there a-anything you can do?”
Gaius shakes his head reluctantly, panic swirling deep in his eyes. “I warned you about this, Merlin, and I know you knew this would happen.” He doesn’t sound angry, just disappointed, and Merlin’s heart sinks.
Hurting Gaius is in the top three things Merlin hates, and gods , it makes him ache.
“I-I’m sorry. I just— I can’t leave Arthur, or you, or anyone . Camelot is my h-home, you know th-that.” Merlin shakes wirh the effort of talking, jaw clenched, teeth chattering.
“I know, my boy, I know.” Gaius places a comforting hand on Merlin’s forearm as a frown furrows his brow. “But Merlin, I don’t know how to stop this. The only way to save yourself is by using your magic, I’m afraid.”
Merlin’s torn. So torn. Will he be able to forgive himself for breaking his promise to Arthur? The Prince doesn’t have to know… But the act of breaking a promise, especially one to Arthur, pains Merlin more than he’d have thought it would.
His head sinks into the pillow on the table, and lets his eyes slip closed, still able to stop the tremors that wrack violently through his body.
“W-Will you get Arthur for me? P-Please?”
Gaius nods immediately and disappears without a word, leaving Merlin alone with his thoughts. He’s going to have to confront Arthur about it.
The King may very well send him away, unwilling to permit the use of magic within the castle, so close by. But beneath Arthur’s law-abiding nature, there’s a good good man, who cares about his people more than the laws of the land. Merlin just hopes Arthur puts their friendship first, their… well, it’s not a relationship, not at all.
But it’s certainly past the point of friendship, Merlin knows that. Gwaine and Lancelot constantly tease him for his hopeless crush on the King, taking delight in informing him that friends don’t look at each other like that, don’t linger with their touches like that, don’t care for each other like that.
Merlin laughs it off and tells them they’re wrong — of course him and Arthur are just friends. There’s no way in hell that the King would ever return his love, absolutely no way.
Merlin doesn’t expect him to; after all, he is the king, and must marry for the good of the kingdom. (Or so Uther instilled in him.) Not to mention the fact that he’s a man , and a servant. It’s the worst possible combination, and it could never come to anything, lest they wish to be mocked whether they go.
Sighing deeply, Merlin curls up on his side as he trembles, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. He can feel his magic begging to be let out, begging to be let free. But he can’t . He made a promise, and he’s goddamn going to keep it, whether it kills him or not.
But he has to tell Arthur first. Tell him goodbye, tell him that he’s sorry, tell him that he’s always loved him, tell him that he deserves the world.
“Merlin,” Arthur breathes, rushing over to his servant’s side, fingers immediately slipping into the clammy ones resting on the table. “Merlin, can you hear me?”
The young man nods limply, not daring to open his eyes. If he sees Arthur’s face, he knows he won’t be able to let go. So he keeps them screwed shut against the harsh light and dangerous possibility of breaking his promise.
“What’s causing this?” Arthur sounds desperate, almost furious that Merlin’s not getting better already. “Gaius, why haven’t you treated him?”
Hesitantly, the old man steps forward, checking with Merlin that it’s okay to explain. As soon as he gets a small nod of confirmation, he clears his throat. “Sire, such is the illness that I cannot treat him. It is magic alone that can cure him of this.”
“Then let’s use magic. Gaius please, I can’t— I can’t lose him.” Arthur’s voice breaks at the end, and he chokes up, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. He knows he’s showing too much emotion — his father would have a fit if he saw him weeping like this — but he almost doesn’t care.
Merlin is dying .
Merlin, the stupid idiot that had challenged him all those years ago, the boy who’d taught him lesson after lesson, changing him forever. Merlin, with whom he joked jovially, exchanging quips back and forth. Merlin, who always put others before himself, invariably neglecting his own health for the sake of others, for the sake of him. Merlin, who— who he loved .
“Your Majesty,” Gaius starts, pulling Arthur back to reality, “Merlin is the only one who can cure himself. Following his promise to you, he has refrained from using magic at all. But he is magic, Sire. He is a creature of the earth, of the Old Religion. Cutting off his magic will kill him. Another two days, and he’ll be dead.”
Arthur’s eyes widen, half confused, half shocked. Merlin, a creature of the Old Religion? But there’s hardly anything evil about the bumbling idiot that comes crashing into his chambers everyday. He’s a bit mouthy, sure, but Arthur’s grown to love Merlin’s sharp wit, and thoroughly enjoys their harmless banter.
Perhaps his father really was wrong about magic.
And then Gaius’ words really hit him— “Merlin’s dying because of me?”
“Uh, well not exactly, Sire. He’s dying because he refuses to break the promise he made to you. He’ll be loyal until the day he dies, that boy.”
“No. No no no.” Arthur rushes to Merlin’s side and grips his hand in his own. “Merlin, listen to me.” The young warlock twists his head slowly, but doesn’t open his eyes.
“It’s okay, Arthur. I’m happy to die. You’re a great king, you know? The best Camelot has ever had. You’ll unite Albion, I’m sure of it. Thank you, for everything. Thank you for letting me serve you.” His tremors are frightening, wracking through his skinny frame as he pulls the blanket closer around him, despite the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
“What are you on about? You’re not dying, you idiot. Use your magic, Merlin, save yourself,” Arthur begs fervently.
Merlin offers a weak smile. “I won’t break my promise, Arthur. You’ll be okay, you don’t need an idiot like me.”
“No Merlin, you’re wrong. I do need you, I need you to stay alive, please .” Arthur’s sobbing now, thick tears rolling down his flushed cheeks as he presses his lips to Merlin’s clammy hand.
“B-But my magic, you’ll banish me if I use it. Or-Or have me burnt at the s-stake.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort. I-I’ll repeal the ban on magic, Merlin, I will, I swear. I just need you to live .”
The servant shakes his head slowly, the fever clouding his mind. “You d-don’t need me, Arthur. I don’t know why you care s-so much.”
“Because I love you, you idiot!” The King yells, voice cracking as he drops his head, shoulders beginning to shake.
Merlin’s not entirely with it, he knows that, but if he heard correctly — Arthur loves him. Maybe it’s a joke, a cruel, sick joke as a final parting gift. “Don’t make j-jokes, Arthur, n-not now.”
“Dammit Merlin, I’m not joking. I’m begging you, please, use your magic. I order you,” he tries, pacing beside Merlin’s bed, distraught.
Arthur’s ordering him to use his magic? That’s new. But he should obey, right? He is supposed to follow the King’s orders.
“Y-You don’t care about the promise?”
“I don’t give a rats ass about the goddamn promise, okay? Just… do something, please .”
The broken please is what jolts Merlin to life. The world is fuzzy and he isn’t exactly sure how his magic is going to come out if he lets it, but he’ll do it if Arthur really wants him to.
Placing his palms upwards by his sides, he allows the self-constructed barrier to break.
Pure magic shoots from his palms, his very soul sweeping and twirling above him, streaks of red, blue, silver and purple all winding together, arcing gracefully above his head. Once complete, the colours freeze and shimmer before floating down into his body, illuminating his limbs, healing his being, knitting him back together.
Arthur and Gaius can only watch, respective jaws dropped as they watch the intricate pattern of colours working their magic. The glow begins to diminish, fading until Merlin’s skin only sparkles gently when he shifts.
“Arthur?” Merlin murmurs, eyes flickering open slowly. He feels fine, good, even, though he’s not entirely sure what just happened. All he knows is that his soul is healed and the gods have smiled down upon him.
“Merlin, how do you feel?” Arthur’s hands are all over him in a flash, skirting over his face and arms, concern ever present in his chestnut eyes.
Before Merlin can even respond, the King is cupping his cheeks desperately and pressing their lips together. Merlin freezes at first, because what is going on? but then his brain kicks back to life, and he’s kissing back, lips sliding together cautiously.
Merlin pulls away, panting slightly. “I feel great,” he says, lips quirking upwards into a smile. The smile Arthur shoots him in response is blindingly gorgeous, so much so that Merlin thinks he might just pass out.
But instead he pulls Arthur down into a tight hug and doesn’t let him go.