Chapter Text
There was nothing Merlin wouldn't do for Arthur, whether to serve or to save the prince. He'd not been certain of that when he'd first become Arthur's manservant, but years at his side had assured Merlin that he would be nothing if not loyal. Whether loyalty meant polishing every last scratch from Arthur's breastplate or preventing Arthur's death at the hands of whichever scorned sorcerer had it out for Pendragon blood this time. Merlin never wavered at Arthur's side. He didn't bat an eye at putting himself in harm's way or using magic a little less than carefully. It was all worth it for Arthur. It was worth everything. All the times he managed to earn a goblet thrown at his head in Arthur's chambers, all the afternoons spent mucking out the stables, the new rumor around the castle that he spent a worrisome amount of time at the Rising Sun. All that was nothing Merlin couldn't handle. He'd still be up before dawn to get Arthur's breakfast ready and assure nothing in Camelot was awry.
The only part of his life at Arthur's side that he couldn't handle was the nightmares. Merlin hated reliving his less than proud moments. Moments in which he had had to kill or harm for Arthur. He hated having to face the times in the cells or when he'd nearly been in a pyre. He'd never go back and change those moments as they were absolutely necessary, but he hated revisiting them every night. It started with small nightmares that would have him waking with a startle and looking to light the candle at his bedside. It had been after Merlin had pulled Arthur from the gates of Avalon. In his dream, Arthur had been below the water, and Merlin was unable to pull him from the murky grasp.
Every time he or Arthur stood at death's door was branded in his mind. Each time Merlin brought harm to another, a new dark thread wove its way into Merlin's dreams. He tried not to let them bother him. They weren't every night, and they weren't always enough to jolt him from sleep, but as the months piled into years, Merlin had more and more incidents to suffer through once more in his sleep. What had once been just slight startles stirring him had transformed into terrible things that had him twisting in his bed so fiercely that he often awoke ensnared in his sheets like a trap. There also came nights when he'd bolt up with a spell half-formed on his lips or calling out for Arthur in the dark hours of the morning. Nights were he woke Gaius up with his fitful cries before his body woke him up. Even when Gaius offered sleeping draughts as he'd given Morgana. Whether out of fear or self-punishment, Merlin refused with the excuse he couldn't chance oversleeping and upsetting Arthur.
Merlin didn't always handle it well. Sometimes he wouldn't get back to sleep after his night terrors and spent the day sluggish and even clumsier than normal. He tended to upset Arthur more than normal on those days. More than once he'd ruined a hunt by tripping over a branch he was too bleary-eyed to see. Once, he'd dropped the prince's breakfast on the way up to his chambers and had to go all the way back to the kitchens and get a fresh plate, which had made him late and gotten him yelled at. Not that he would ever admit to Arthur why he was growing clumsier with each passing month, or why he was avoiding overnight hunting trips or trips to outlying villages. He didn't want to let on that maybe he wasn't the plain moron he knew Arthur saw him as. Explaining his nightmares would mean explaining what he'd done and in turn explaining that he may be an extremely powerful sorcerer to someone who could very well have him executed. Merlin knew what optioned he'd stick with.
The only thing Merlin neglected was that Arthur occasionally was more perceptive than he counted on. Merlin had slept through the night without a problem for once. He was in cheerful spirits as he brought Arthur his breakfast and was more than a bit surprised to find the prince already awake and packing a satchel, though he hadn't bothered putting on a shirt.
"Morning, Sire. Didn't think you could wake up at a decent hour without assistance," Merlin said in lieu of a proper greeting.
"Well, Merlin, I thought I might need to go ahead and pack my own bags since you'll be busy packing your own after breakfast," Arthur shot back without thinking.
Merlin set the tray of food on the table to avoid dropping it. "Pardon? You didn't tell me you were hunting today."
"Because we aren't. We're traveling to an outlying village. There has been word of some... trouble near the border with Nemeth. I doubt it’s more than hearsay, but I think it would be best to check it out and make an appearance. Air towards the side of caution."
"That's two day's travel there. Don't see why I need to go."
Arthur closed the bag stuffed with his clothing and set it next to the foot of his bed. "You've been avoiding me. As much as you can. You've missed three hunting trips. I know you don't like the hunting, but you never shut up about the sky at night or the trees overhead. So you’re avoiding me for some reason.”
Merlin took a small intake of breath, trying to keep his face void of his shock. “I’ve just had a lot to help Gaius with.”
“Merlin, do you take me for a fool?”
“Of course not, sire. I’m certain you are.”
Arthur cracked a grin at that, grabbing a pillow off his bed and hurling at the raven-haired man. Merlin ducked just in time with a small laugh. He snatched the pillow off the ground, going over to put it back on the prince’s bed. He gave a huff, looking back to where Arthur had gone over to the tray of food on his table. Merlin shook his head and went over to Arthur’s wardrobe to pick the prince an outfit he could travel in comfortably.
Frankly, being in charge of getting Arthur dressed was one of Merlin’s favorite chores as a servant to the prince. He would never dare say it, but he knew that he had eyes for Arthur. He blamed it partially on the ridiculous amount of time they spent together coupled with the neverending playful banter and the way Arthur smiled at him. Luckily, Merlin was fairly decent at keeping secrets by now, and this was far from the first thing he’d kept from Arthur. He could keep it a secret that he felt like Arthur hung the moon, and he could make sure the prince was wearing his favorite outfits time and time again. It really wasn’t a bad trade-off. He always preferred Arthur in darker reds than the true colors of Camelot, so that was the tunic he picked out for the day when Arthur interrupted his thoughts.
“You should probably head back to Gaius’. We will be leaving at noon, and I have no intention of leaving late at your expense,” he said between bites of sausage.
“Only once you're dressed. Sometimes I doubt your ability to get on by yourself.” Merlin shot the prince a toothy grin, but he inwardly knew he just didn’t need as much time as Arthur thought he did.
He kept a bag packed with necessities under his bed at all times. Living under Uther’s rule and practicing more and more sorcery to keep Arthur safe meant he was in constant danger. He knew if anyone ever found him out he would scarcely have time to run. He wasn’t keen on having to run with absolutely nothing, so his bag stayed hidden away for if the worst case came to pass. Not that he would say that. He would just take his leave when Arthur was taken care of and spend his free time reading the book of spells he scarcely had time for.