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Chapter Text

During the middle of an ordinary winter morning in Arthur's chambers, there was no warning to indicate anything was wrong when Merlin collapsed. He dropped - sudden and harsh, limbs smacking on the stone floor - and Arthur's heart dropped with him.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted and stood so abruptly from his table that the chair toppled over with a clatter that drew the guards; in the short time it took for them to call for him and then yank open the door, Arthur had already sunk to his knees at Merlin's side. 

"Alert Gaius," He ordered them. He gathered up Merlin's loose limbs into his arms off the stone as they obeyed. The manservant did not stir. 

"Merlin," Arthur called. And then louder, "Merlin!" 

Nothing. 

Arthur determinedly set his jaw. Scooped Merlin more securely into his arms. And rose to his feet.

If Merlin would not wake up to do so, then Arthur would carry him to Gaius. 

Though in no firm exactions Arthur did somewhat expect Merlin to awaken during the trip to the Royal Physician's room; he did not. The surprise and disappointment wore heavily upon Arthur that Merlin hadn't awoken during the frantic trip to the Court Physician.

In fact, he did not wake up at all even after that. 

Arthur was already worried about his manservant; he did not yet know, at the time, that he'd only grow far more worried about him.

"Sire, good morn'- " Gaius cut off abruptly at the sight of his beloved ward carried unconscious in the prince's arms. He needed a moment to collect himself before briskly focusing on the work at hand, no matter who it was; he was allowed that moment of recompose while Arthur strode over to the cot set up to the side of the room and deposited Merlin's long gangling limbs down in it.

"What happened?" Gaius asked, taking in the lack of visible wounds or blood, his hands checking Merlin's forehead, then his wrist. His eyebrows furrowed, which cause Arthur's heart to thud unhappily at increased tempo.

Arthur took a slow inhale through his nose, trying to calm down. Merlin - as always - would be just fine. Still, Arthur found himself twisting one of the rings on his finger in worry as he spoke. "One moment he was fine. The next, he just - collapsed. Suddenly unconscious."

"And he hasn't shown any new symptoms prior to such - or since?" Gaius gently pried open an eyelid to look at Merlin's pupils. The act did not stir him from unconsciousness. 

"No. No, not before and not after. He just..."

Arthur looked toward the unconscious face of his friend. Tried to believe that whatever this was, Gaius would fix it soon enough and that it wouldn't be long at all until Arthur could think of this event without any of this current worry - because Merlin would be fine - and he'd tease his manservant about fainting. "Collapsed."

"I do find it strange," The physician murmured. 

There was much about this that Arthur found to be strange. "What?" 

Gaius took Merlin's wrist and lifted it from the cot into the air. He realized it. Immediately Merlin's arm flopped down upon release. Neither Arthur nor Gaius winced at the thud. "Hm." 

"What is it?" To Arthur's eyes, Merlin appeared no different now than he had before. But he knew Gaius - and he most certainly knew well by now what the man sounded like when he'd had a thought.

Gaius blinked over his glasses at him, then shook his head. "No, I shouldn't say. It could simply be be something I'm not familiar with. Although..."

Could be. But Arthur believed Gaius did not think it to be so. "Gaius," Arthur ordered simply, "Just tell me. If you have any supposition or even guesses - I'd like to hear them."

Gaius pursed hum mouth and then sighed. "Very well then." He rearranged Merlin's arm in a semblance of something less disarrayed. "Now he could wake upon the morrow - and this sudden bout of unconsciousness could simply be a matter of extreme exhaustion." He paused. "However... and without proof, this is only supposition mind you, not an official prognosis..."

"I understand." 

Gaius sighed again. "Well, it would seem - it would seem to be the work of sorcery." He lowered his voice on the word, as if speaking it too loudly would summon even more dire consequences. "Or an enchantment of sorts." 

"Sorcery," Arthur repeated.

Gaius frowned. "He appears to remarkably unresponsive. Without any injury - well, it's strange, surely, why he wouldn't be waking up. Unless either he significantly needed the rest - or the incident was induced somewhat unnaturally." Gaius pulled the folded quilt at the foot of the cot and draped it over Merlin. "I'll have to do some tests to rule out poisoning - but he appears not to be suffering what one usually would from poison symptoms."

He crossed his arms. "Sorcery. Cast on Merlin of all people?" It was absurd to even think it.

"Yes, well," Gaius cleared his throat. "You never know. Perhaps. Or perhaps the intended recipient of the curse or enchantment was someone... else." He lifted his eyebrows pointedly. 

"Me?" The idea that it was Arthur's fault that Merlin lay here unresponsive chilled him.

"Perhaps," Gaius agreed then waved it away with his hands. "Of course this is all just one possible theory. I'm sure if given time, there can be a more scientific explanation found for it."

His courtesy of, "I'm sure" rang hollow to both their ears. He wasn't at all sure in the least that it hadn't been sorcery aimed toward Arthur after all. 

"And Arthur?" Gaius called suddenly. "I don't dare to suggest - however... Please consider waiting until we are more certain rather mentioning any suspicions before the king."

Arthur faltered. He understood what it was that Gaius was getting at, what it was that he feared. "Of course," He obliged with lowered voice and eyes. Arthur had learned the hard way that even if he as a prince saw value in Merlin's life, that alone wasn't enough to protect it; not when Uther viewed the manservant as someone who ought to die for Arthur's behalf, regardless of circumstances.  

Regardless of friendship. Friendship that Uther forbid existence - or at least acknowledgment - due to the decorum of nobility. 

And all such was before the matter of sorcery suspicions were factored in. Victims of enchantments - well often times they were treated by his father with equal hostility as the sorcerers themselves.

And thus neither he nor Gaius wanted to risk Merlin's recovery - or his safety outright - by voicing a suspicion that might not be true anyhow. Surely Gaius was right: there had to be a scientific explanation for the situation. There had to be, for Merlin's sake.

"However, we are putting the cart before the horse on this one," Gaius reminded him. "Why, by tomorrow morning, he could simply awaken on his own!"

"Let us hope so," Arthur agreed. With a nod of gratitude to Gaius, he left his friend in the capable care of the physician and hoped that by tomorrow morning this would all soon be put behind them.

He went about the rest of his day with a distinct void quite in the shape of one very annoying, very endearing manservant. 

It was as unsettling as if he'd one day lost the very shadow from which the sun stretch alongside him. 

But by tomorrow, he was almost certain that the sun would rise again and this time return to him that faithful presence.  

Despite Merlin's disbelief, Arthur could dress himself. Could attend to his own clothing. Could dress down for night and dress up for day, both bereft of Merlin's attending.

Could grab his own breakfast from the assortment of bread, cheeses, and fruits spread plentifully upon the table, consistently prepared for the prince's pleasure, replenished so as that it'd be there for whenever he wishes it - most often as snack but frequently as Merlin arrived late with a meal, out of breath and yet still somehow yammering some excuse at full speed even so. Yes Arthur could pick up a piece of bread - and then decide to skip breakfast entirely, and set it back down again, with a brush of his hands to shake off the crumbs although his feelings of anticipation and anxiety were far harder to shake away. 

The walk to the Royal Physician's chambers had more or less been inevitable. Breakfast could very well wait. 

At the door opening, Gaius glanced his way. "Ah, Your Highness," He said with a wry, knowing look. "I might've guessed."

The prince refused to dignify that and so he stubbornly ignored the implication, as well as the embarrassment which crept up his neck. 

His eyes fell upon the cot in which Merlin still resided. To see him was a comfort and distress both.

He had - he had missed Merlin. But he had hoped that the manservant had merely overslept again. Was late and that upon Arthur's arrival, everything would fall back into routine.

He looked back to Gaius. Voice quiet but unyielding he asked, "How is he?"

A sudden sound from the cot came, startling Arthur. And then before his hopes could even rise, he realized what the sound had been - and what it had now settled down into, albeit a quieter version. 

The solemn air of the room dropped alongside Arthur's jaw; the jaw was recovered, the melancholy less so.

"Hang on." Incredulous, Arthur raised one hand in the air. As if needing to listen more attentively to confirm what he was already sure of.

Obediently Gaius quieted with a puzzled frown. Yes his first impression - as ridiculous as it seemed - was correct of what the noise coming from the cot was.

"Is he snoring?" 

"Ah." Gaius' face cleared. "Actually, yes. I've discovered that Merlin remains not unconscious exactly - but rather he remains in slumber." 

Snoring. Merlin was snoring. Arthur was half beside himself with worry and Merlin was snoring.

Typical! Truly, the manservant would never fail to invent new ways of driving Arthur mad. 

"You're telling me that he's just... asleep?" Arthur incredulously demanded, half a laugh and half a scoff. 

"As strange as it may seem, yes, Arthur, that is exactly what I believe him to be." It was said with too much solemnity for it to be a mere case of exhaustion. Right then: back to worrying about that idiot it was. Gaius paused as Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. "The problem appears to be: that he refuses to wake from the sleep." 

"I dare say," Gaius added, "That we can consider exhaustion a prime suspect in cause." 

The next day Gaius ruled out exhaustion as a cause in its entirety; for Merlin still had not awoken. By now, he very well should have, no matter how dire the exhaustion theoretically was to be.

Likewise, the physician had finished some tests and had ruled out some of the possible poisons, though was still searching for those he was unfamiliar with or had overlooked.

As the likelihood increased, neither the physician nor the prince spoke again of the word that loomed over them as a more and more likely villain: sorcery.

It was seeming far more likely; Arthur clenched his fists. Sorcery was a far more insidious foe to combat than even the worst bout of exhaustion could ever be.

There was a question he had to consider, now that it'd become evident that Merlin truly wasn't awakening. And Arthur was many things - but stupid wasn't one of them. "How long?" His voice was composed. After all it was time to face the inevitable. "How do we have until it's too late?" 

Gaius met his eye. Did not pretend to not understand what Arthur was alluding to. "I dare not guess." Arthur nodded. Gaius clasped his hands together behind his back. "Though, despite the occasional fever, sire, he appears to doing much better than expected for someone in his..." He searched for a decorous, non-sorcerous word. "Condition."

There was, at least, that for good news. However, "How long can he go without eating?"

Gaius sighed. "That too worries me. I have been carefully giving him liquids. Broth. Water. And for now, it is enough." He shook his head. "But it cannot sustain him forever, sire."

Of course not. Arthur nodded. "Don't worry," He offered uselessly. "We will fix this." 

Gaius smiled thinly. "I have the uttermost faith in you, Your Highness. Tis only the passing of time that causes me worry. I fear - " He broke off, too distraught to continue in his impassively cool tone. Unable to vocalize what the two of them knew they both feared. 

He smiled kindly through his suffering to comfort the prince. "I'll send word if - if anything changes, Your Highness. Though he ought to be unchanged for some time, at the least. His condition is, for now, somewhat stable; rest assured."

"Thank you, Gaius." 

There was nothing more to be done by staying here. It was only self indulgence that wanted him to remain by Merlin's side, to be soothed by the assurance of the breath rising and falling within Merlin's breast continuous as visible proof of life persisting.

However, there was nothing to be done here, not by Arthur. Hovering in the healing rooms would not at all assist Gaius right now - or Merlin. 

For that, he'd be back later for another long night of reading alongside Gaius in the hopes of finding an answer - or at least a clue, damn it.

"He's still not here," Sir Eleck whispered to Sir Ullmac at morning training. 

"They say he hasn't awoken," Sir Ullmac agreed.

Arthur pretended not to hear either of them.

However he could feel the cautiousness of every breath as his miasma hung over them all, a darkened storm cloud simply biding its time until it drenched everyone in its torrent. And the knights too, he knew, were very much aware of this strange heaviness pushing upon them.

He idly rubbed at the pressure within his chest but encountered chain mail - the only thing, he was sure, preventing him from soothing that ache underneath. Nothing else.

Chapter Text

The solemn air that haunted Arthur like a preemptive mourning was maddening. Worse than his own fear was the conviction of almost everyone around him that if he hadn't done so by now then Merlin would never awaken at all. 

He was irascible. The more angry he became, the more his men treated him with deep found pity. The pity only fueled his irritation for there was nothing to pity because Merlin was going to be just fine.

He pummeled his knights into the ground in pretense of sparring. And not one of them - despite it all, the brutality as he tried to bury his uselessness rather than a friend, and his sharp calls of "Again!" over and over as he swept legs from underneath and thrust them upon the ground - no not one of his men bemoaned the morning practice that stretched into afternoon then still into the yawning sun of the evening. 

Those who had other duties assigned simply bowed before gathering themselves and leaving, sometimes to be replaced by a different knight arriving and sometimes not. 

Their devotion would be touching, perhaps, if everything about this didn't piss Arthur off or remind him of his helplessness in the face of failing to help his friend. 

"I've hardly seen you at all lately, Arthur," Uther remarked casually when they passed each other in the hall near Arthur's chambers. As if he had laid in wait to catch a glimpse of his son. "Is everything alright?" 

Arthur wanted, very much, to be able to tell his father everything.

But he feared the response that telling him would bring. That he would be ridiculed for caring so deeply for a servant - especially an ensorcelled one at that. Uther might've heard vague rumors about Merlin being unwell, but damn it all if Arthur was going to endanger his friend even more so by his selfish desire to find comfort in his father by confirming those rumors and then some.

No, this was not something he could tell his father. Not if he wanted to keep Merlin safe.

And if this was the only balm Arthur could provide for Merlin during this situation, then he'd not do anything other than his utter best. And to do it right.

"I've been implementing longer training," Arthur said. A lie composed of the truth. 

Uther nodded slowly. "I see. More training? That's a fine idea, yes." He paused. "However, Arthur, do stop skipping dinner. Morgana and I are beginning to miss you." 

"Of course, Father." 

Oblivious to his son's plight, Uther smiled warmly at him. His retreat down the hallway left Arthur feeling bereft. 

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," Morgana remarked after dinner, having caught up with him as he left. She was now walking by Arthur's side, Gwen trailing behind them.

He glanced at her but didn't reply.

She tried a new tactic of engagement. 

"How's Merlin?" The question was asked as a lead up to something else but she faltered due to the prince's expression. Then at his silence, her face too fell. "He's not still sleeping, is he?" 

Gwen's sharp inhale of horror was the only sound other than their footsteps.

Arthur cut his glance to a stained glass window rather than have to see Morgana's worried gaze fixed upon him so intently.

"But it's been over a week!" She cried out. A fact which Arthur knew very well. Too well.

"This is absurd," Morgana said, more composed now. Sounding disbelieving in the sense that she wished dearly that there was another option to be believed.

Unfortunately, Arthur knew there wasn't. 

"There must be something that can be done!" Morgana cried out, a luxury of exhibiting the emotion writhing within Arthur which wasn't permitted to exist for a manservant let alone be spoken of. Especially not in front of a servant - no matter that said servant was Guinevere. 

"What has Gaius said?" Morgana asked. 

Arthur met her gaze. 

They stopped walking. "He's doing all he can. We all are."

Morgana grit her teeth. "Not all of us." She unlinked her arm from Arthur's elbow. "Come on, Gwen." She begun walking with a dramatic turn of her gown and hair.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. Quickly dropped it to follow her, the headache behind his eyes left unsoothed, as he easily kept pace with her. "Where are you going?"

Morgana answered bluntly, as if it should have been obvious. "Well to Gaius of course. To offer assistance. Maybe... maybe there's something we can do to help."

Gwen nodded enthusiastically.

Arthur didn't have the heart to tell them that he'd been helping Gaius. Had read tomes and tomes and had chopped more herbs in the period of Merlin's slumber than he ever had in his entire life's existence. 

"Good luck," He wished them in sincerity. He stopped walking and the two ladies fell out of pace from him.

Morgana nodded shortly. And then strode off, taking her Gwen with her.

"Your Highness," Gaius called out suddenly, and immediately Arthur stood from his place at Merlin's side. He'd already crossed the room to the table Gaius was at when Gaius glanced up from the book he was reading, Arthur's own book left in disarray on Merlin's cot. 

"I have reason to believe that he has fallen prey to what is called 'The Revelation Sleep.'" Gaius glanced toward Merlin with an alarming amount of sorrow in his gaze. "I thought so yesterday, but today I'm almost sure of it."

Arthur didn't like the sound of that nor the sorrowful look. "The Revelation Sleep," Arthur repeated. Not a question but one that Gaius took unto himself to answer.

"It is meant to provide revelation in one's life. Specifically, in one's relationships. But, ah, at a cost of course."

Of course; and Merlin was now unwillingly paying that cost. The cost, Arthur hoped with a lump in his throat, would not be too high. "Gaius, I don't know what it's meant to do - the revelation - but what's happening to Merlin right now? Well, how should we got about fixing it?"

"He won't awaken," Gaius proclaimed solemnly; Arthur's heart dropped. His breath had  caught in his chest hardly for a moment when Gaius then continued, "Not until the requirement has been fulfilled."

His nerves were frayed. Releasing the breath, the air felt unyielding still as it resumed into a regular rhythm. Unable to bear the dreadful sight any longer, he turned himself away from Merlin and Gaius. It did not alleviate his distress nor his nerves. "And the requirement?" He clasped his hands together behind his back and attempted to calm himself.

There was still time. There was no reason to worry - Merlin would be fine.

Arthur would ensure it.

He would do anything. He would find any plant. Slay any beast. Travel any matter of distance. Fight any foe that stood between him and the restoration of Merlin's health.

"A kiss bestowed upon him."

Immediately Arthur spun around, clasped hands flying apart. Frayed nerves channeled into indignation, anger even. "A kiss? He must be kissed?" As incredulous as it sounded, it was even more incredulous that if it were to be so simple that Gauis wouldn't already have cured Merlin. He crossed the room in two hurried strides. "What are we waiting for? If that's all, then I will - " He paused, the offer dying on his lips as Gaius' eyebrows rose in disapproval to suddenly remind him of his stature.

He retracted the hand which had reflexively reached towards Merlin and clenched it into a fist. He wanted to say damn it all to his status; but now that the remedy was within reach, he could afford patience and the maintenance of dignity. Mostly. "Well, fetch someone then!" He threw his arm toward the tower in a fantastic display of how impatient he truly was now that they were so close to awakening Merlin. "There must be someone who can..."

Suddenly, with such little distance between himself and the unconscious servant, the word 'kiss' seemed a bit obscene. Arthur gestured weakly with one hand to convey the sentiment; Gaius was not impressed.

"It is not nearly so simple, sire," Gaius chastened. He folded his arms across his chest, tucking his hands into the wide sleeves of his healer robes. "Or did you think I wouldn't have already awoken him were it to be so simple?"

Oh.

Exhaustion set upon him. "Of course not," Arthur assured him, abruptly tired in the wake of the false hope that had been shattered in such a short span of time. Left him weighed down once more by dread.

With a sigh, Gaius' eyebrows fell into a softer shape worse than offended disapproval: sympathy. "Truly, I wish it were that simple. But, rather than any kiss, to break the enchantment one must be bestowed a kiss specifically by the person whom he loves the least."

The answer hung in the air heavily until it too sunk as did Arthur's stomach. "And..." Sorrowfully, Gaius already begun nodding, intuitively understanding what Arthur had realized: that discerning such a thing was no simple task. Wearily, Arthur placed his hand upon his brow and distinctly did not glance toward the cot. "We can't know for certain, whom that is, who Merlin loves the least."

"Quite right," Gaius murmured then turned to take the water off the flame. Carefully he poured the heated water into a bowl already prepared with herbs.

To have the remedy - to know the cure - and yet to still be unable to awaken Merlin... It was almost worse than not knowing. Almost worse than had they still been searching for the answer. At least then, there would be more semblance of hope instead this feeling of dread and inevitability. "There must be something we can do."

He was taken aback when Gaius said, "You're welcome to try, Your Highness." The words struck like a blow. Focused on his task at hand, Gaius didn't glance up from his stirring nor even notice Arthur's plight. He placed the wooden spoon down on the table and then dipped a cloth into the bowl of warmed herb water. "I already have."

That halted the hurt and offense that had come from what he'd thought had been such a callously unkind comment. "You?" Arthur verified.

With a sad smile, Gaius finally looked up as he carried the bowl over towards the cot. "Of course, I'm sure you've already realized: for this cure, the kiss needn't be a romantic gesture, sire. Yesterday, when I suspected what the enchantment might be... Well I couldn't help but to make an attempt by way of a kiss upon the brow. I hadn't really expected it to work but..." But by the sound of the disappoint thick in his tone, Gaius had.

Gaius shrugged and then sat down by Merlin's side upon the cot. With a great sigh, Gaius lifted and wrung the cloth over the bowl until it was merely dampened instead of soaking. "Still," He said in a quiet voice - as if he could bear to do so in a greater volume - after he'd gently attended to Merlin's feverish brow, "I had hoped."

"Who else?" Arthur firmly kept the reigns to his hope and refused to be led astray by the wild beast of despair. "There must be someone who comes to mind. And if all it takes is a kiss - then we have to at least try."

"Yes, I quite agree. If only it were so simple," Gaius said, downtrodden.

There was silence - no sound other then the quiet splash that came when Gaius placed the cloth back into the bowl of water. The two of them did not break this silence as Gaius continued tenderly wiping away the sweat that had gathered upon Merlin's skin, leaving herbed dampness in its wake in order to combat the mild fever. Arthur watched and could not for the life of him - worse, could not for the life of Merlin - even begin to compile a list of loved ones, let alone rank them accordingly to Merlin's heart.

When Gaius at last rose from the cot, his eyes were deliberately on the task of setting the bowl back upon the table. "Sire," He said finally, "If it's a question of whom it is that he loves the least, then logic dictates we ought to try compiling everyone it is whom Merlin loves. A mere process of elimination, if you will."

Arthur inhaled sharply, then nodded. Finally the helpless feeling of this whole situation begun to feel less encompassing. The task set before them was still daunting and arduous - but, by God, at least now they stood a chance.

"And who knows?" Gaius sighed, sounding tired. "Perhaps we'll find the answer sooner than we anticipated."'

Arthur cast one last look toward his friend, who lay on the cot immobile in slumber. "Perhaps," Arthur agreed. But he spoke it as a vow, for he would find the one to cure Merlin.

"I heard about Merlin," Gwen blurted out. She slightly tilted her neck in self -consciousness, avoiding Arthur's gaze. "Well nearly everyone has, really. No, I mean that... Yesterday I offered to fetch water again for him. And so I heard - from Gaius." She paused and looked forward once more, her eyes determined. "About the remedy."

The remedy. What a neutral word - kind even - for something that had been weighing so terribly upon Arthur's mind, heavily enough to anchor him even every night as he tried and failed to fall asleep - which the irony of that did not escape Arthur, not one damned bit. The remedy.

"I - " Gwen shook her head, the loose curls which framed her face bouncing with the motion. Her nerve stumbled once more in the face of whatever it was she wanted to say next. "I would never presume to - " She wrung her shawl in her hands with anxious repetition. "That is to say - "

Ah. So that was it.

Arthur held up a hand and she stopped speaking. "It's alright, Guinevere. Truly."

She gazed deeply into the prince's eyes. What she saw there made her sigh and stilled her hands. She lowered her gaze to her shawl and smoothed it out. "Will it work," She said softly, "Do you think? If I...?" Her cheeks flushed. "Or is it just - well it is a bit presumptuous, isn't it? To think that I could." She gave a little, self-conscious laugh. When Arthur made no sign of joining her, her  awkward unease faded a bit. "Arthur, do you think it might work?"

Arthur sighed. Guinevere had a knack sometimes for saying the worries Arthur too felt but dared not vocalize. Only he suspected that she had yet to realize that they shared this same insecurity. "I hope so," He answered truthfully. "It need not be you, so don't place any unnecessary burden upon yourself. It just has to be someone - and it is someone - and so we'll find them. Whoever."

Gwen nodded solemnly. "We will," She agreed with conviction, yet underlying her words was a tone that spoke of concern for Arthur. Soothingly, she offered a small smile of sympathy.

The prince swallowed. He must have appeared quite more devastated than he'd realized to be talked to in such a tone, to be looked at with the soft sadness she was staring at him with. "Yes, well."

She seemed to realize his discomfort. "Right." She smoothed out her shawl with one last brusque motion. Cleared his throat lightly. "Well! I'm off to Gaius'. Wish me luck then." Her smile was strained in faux cheer.

Grateful, he answered her forced joviality with a deep sincerity. "Good luck, Guinevere." 

Her smile fell at the corners, revealing more of her sadness, but with an appearance much more believable now than it'd been a mere moment ago. "Thank you. Sire."

Merlin did not wake.

Guinevere shed tears intermittently, ones she tried to hide away, as she carried on with attending the Lady Morgana, who fretted over her with concern. If Arthur had gained encouragement from talking to Gwen before, it now begun to feel like a bad omen; not the maidservant herself but that their internal plight had been so similar and that she had failed - it rang like a warning bell, that should Arthur attempt to do so, he too might fall to the same doomed fate of failure.

He had intended to do but found that he'd begun to avoid the two women. Gwen reminding him so much of himself, and Morgana -

And Morgana... Wait a moment.

"Morgana," Arthur approached her that evening in desperation. "Have you tried waking - "

"Of course," Morgana answered. Her swiftness a courtesy so as to kill Arthur's hope faster, lest the idea bloom too deep rooted within his heart. "Gaius asked me to; even if he hadn't, of course I would try. What's the harm in a simple kiss after all? One on the hand nonetheless."

Arthur closed his eyes and lamented. 

They were running out of people.

Worse, they were running out of time.

Chapter Text

Arthur chopped herbs alongside Gwen. In the beginning of the evening, she had been unable to mask how strange she found it to be - the Prince of Camelot completing the same chores for Gaius as herself, a maidservant - but she'd adjusted quickly.

There was a tepid understanding between that formed in most part when the two of them had both moved at the same time to stoke the fire after Merlin had shivered.

"Well it must be someone that he loves," Gwen was pointing out. They had - unfortunately due Merlin's stubborn refusal to wake up - plenty of time to discuss their thoughts upon and the hows to go about it. "Who else is there?"

"His mother," Arthur replied quickly but then actually heard his own answer and was discouraged once more. He set down his knife and moved to bottle his latest batch of herbs.

Gaius shook his head. "His mother, is perhaps, the sole loved one we can rule out from the list." 

"Yes, of course not his mother," Arthur agreed loftily. He hadn't really meant it when he'd suggested it. Or rather, he hadn't intended the ramifications of its meaning - too caught up in trying to list Merlin's loved ones. It wasn't like him to rush into things or to say something without giving it thought. The stress of everything - it must have been having effect on him.

"There has to be someone," Gwen persisted. They'd tried so many, many of the servants and townsfolk already - friends Gaius and Gwen conjured in endless droves that Arthur hadn't even known existed - and yet none had been the answer. "After all, it has to be someone. It wouldn't make sense otherwise." 

Arthur was worried that there wasn't any obligation for the world to make sense, and that it would start its lesson to Arthur on thus by way of Merlin. But then again - maybe it already had. When in the world had Merlin ever made sense?

"What?" He asked, as he noticed that Gwen had set down her knife and was now staring at him.

"Oh!" She turned her eyes back to the herbs, picking up the knife once more. "It's nothing really. It's only..." Her eyes glanced back to him. "It's only that you were smiling."

He hadn't realized that he was. Wasn't now, in fact.

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," She hastened to add.

"No, no... It's alright. Really, Guinevere."

"Oh." She looked back toward him. "Only it's just - you've been so worried. We all! Have been so worried," She corrected hastily, as if to save him the embarrassment of being known to care about Merlin as well as to let it be reminded that she too has of course been worried. "But you - Well it was just a relief. To see you smile." Her brown eyes were warm. Kind.

His throat felt tight; though he did not know why, he suspected either Merlin or Gwen to be the cause. Perhaps combination of them both. "Thank you," He said quietly. His voice oddly hushed. She inclined her head with a small acknowledging smile.

And though it was another evening in which Merlin still had not awakened, the physician's chambers and all of whom were within it were cast in the orange glow of the fireplace and in its warmth. 

The more Merlin slept, the less Arthur did.

Hilarious, really, except that of course it really, really wasn't.

Another night of restless insomnia, Arthur couldn't help but to wonder what Merlin would have to say about the whole fruitless endeavor. He'd at least have something sarcastic to wittily remark upon involving the irony.

He knew in theory that there was one person who'd sprung to mind but had not yet been tested, who had yet to place a kiss upon Merlin.

Himself.

Arthur wanted it to work. Of course he did. Obviously.

He was terrified it would work. Of course he was. Why wouldn't he be? The person whom Merlin loved the least? Who would ever want that title?

Worse: what if this didn't work. Failed because Merlin didn't love him at all, let alone the least.

It was terrifying. This was an answer to a question he had never thought to poise. And he never wanted to know the answer.

He would never know, not for certain, why it didn't work - if he wasn't loved at all or he simply wasn't loved the least in Merlin's heart. Unless, of course, it did work and Merlin indeed woke up. Which would be a great relief and simultaneously a terrible, terrible burden to discover in such certainty that Merlin loved him least.

He knew he ought to, needed to, but he couldn't bring himself to kiss Merlin. Although he was not used to demonstrating physical affection, it wasn't the kiss itself which caused him to hesitate. No, not that. It was the knowing. Or the not knowing. Both were horrid options.

This... All this thinking was getting him nowhere. He was being a coward by not making a move in any direction. He knew what needed to be done. And yet.

Still - he remained a coward for the rest of the night. Though he swore to himself that he would fulfill his duty. He just needed... He just needed perhaps to make sure it was his duty in the first place. After all, he hadn't yet attempted all possible options, now had he?

He truly did not think he could bear surviving the idea of Merlin not at all loving him. It was a despair Arthur had never worried over and now found that he could not stop worrying over. He loved his friend so deeply that it would damage him irrevocably should he come to discover that he wasn't loved to the same depths - or at all - by his dearest companion.

And thus Arthur almost fervently prayed that Merlin loved him least after all. At least then he would confirm for certain he was loved at least, even somewhat, and even that love was not returned in the magnitude of Arthur's own love for Merlin.

He knew that he needed to kiss Merlin. But -

But should someone else awaken Merlin first, then Arthur would never have to do so. Which rather sounded like a fine plan to Arthur. If only he could think of more people that Merlin loved - but whom he didn't love most, whom he loved least. Someone who -

Arthur sat upright in his bed so quickly that he knocked over two pillows.

Of course!

He told his father that he was going on a hunting trip.

"And where is that manservant of yours?" Uther asked. "I would assume you're taking him with you, except recently I haven't seen bumbling around him underfoot."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, fore it was true that Merlin had not been bumbling around or underfoot recently. "And because of that, I've given him some time off. As a reward."

Uther gazed upon him with a mixture of pity and fondness. "You needn't reward the servants for doing their job, Arthur." He paused. "However... That one - " He waved a finger. "That one is certainly imbecilic enough that I can almost understand wanting to reward normal behavior for that one."

Arthur nodded quickly at the reprieve from what had almost certainly been an impending lecture. Nothing about Merlin ever - but especially now - was normal.

"Well," Uther smiled. "How long are you planning to be gone?"

Until however long it took.

"Oh," Arthur waved a hand. "Depends on where the hunt leads me."

His father chuckled. "Ah," He nodded. In approval, and Arthur's heart swelled within him; conflict tore at him, happy to have been graced by his father's rare show of approval, lamenting that it had only come forth for a lie. "You're enjoying your youth. I am glad to hear it, Arthur."

Arthur inclined his head and turned to leave.

"And Arthur?" Uther called after him.

He turned. "Yes, Father?"

"Take as long as you need." Uther gestured with his hand. "You've been looking rather..." He paused. "Rather restless lately."

"I will," Arthur swore. Uther did not realize how deeply Arthur meant those words - and hopefully he never would.

He set out. Rode and rode. Checked villages and towns. Got caught up along the way slaying a beast here or there, the ones which had been necessary for survival; those which could be avoided in battle, Arthur did - for he did not know how much time he had left, and he refused to squander what little time may be left to save Merlin's life.

But ultimately with one destination in mind. Or rather, one person.

Until, finally, he found news of where Lancelot du Lac might be.

The light was breaking through the tree line in patches and streaks. And Arthur rode towards the warmth, into the sunlit clearing.

Into hope.

Chapter Text

And indeed, to follow the sun was to finally find Lancelot. Who, just as the sun, was a sight to behold. Truly, Arthur had missed him even in the short time it'd been since Lancelot had departed.

"Prince Arthur?" Lancelot asked, stunned, recognizing the figure in his doorway immediately. For a moment he simply stared, gaping, with great shock. Then he glanced over Arthur's shoulder to the empty space where a manservant might have stood. His brow furrowed. "Where's Merlin?"

Arthur's mouth pressed into a grim line. "That's why I've come."

Lancelot nodded slowly. No longer was there shock in his eyes. Only calm focus. He opened the rickety wooden door wider. "Please," He offered.

Arthur stepped inside.

Within the hour, the story had been told, provisions had been packed, a second horse acquired, and they galloped toward Camelot.

Gaius could not bear to watch the attempt. He had not said so, but once Lancelot had approached the cot he turned his attention to the needless task of shuffling things around on one of his messy desks and Arthur knew why. He himself could hardly bear to watch. There was no hesitation from Lancelot, who sat upon the cot as Gaius looked away and Arthur wished that he could do the same.

Lancelot placed a hand upon Merlin's cheek and sighed. He leaned over Merlin and slowly - so slowly that it dawned on Arthur what was happening but could only watch, so utterly transfixed by the deep tenderness in the man's actions, as Lancelot brought his other hand beneath Merlin's head to embrace and lift him while Arthur only stared and stared - drew his mouth down upon Merlin's to place an achingly tender kiss upon his lips.

Arthur held his breath, half in hope and half in wonder.

Gaius turned around and too witnessed the incredulous sight Arthur was seeing. And Gaius raised his eyebrow very, very high in arched disapproval; though his amusement in his upturned mouth betrayed the crossness of the eyebrows. Arthur wasn't sure if he waited for Lancelot to remove his mouth before commenting or if the timing had simply lined up to do so. "Truly," Gaius scolded in mirthful humor, "It needn't have been delivered on the mouth. A kiss anywhere would have sufficed."

At that, Lancelot flushed deeply. His hand remained on Merlin's cheek.

"Or," Gaius continued ruthlessly, finding deep delight in doing so, "Did you really think all of us to have done so? Myself included?"

"No," Lancelot hastened to agree. "Sorry. I hadn't meant to - well - "

Gaius' face broke as he chuckled, and Lancelot quickly became privy to the fact that Gaius was teasing. 

But then their faces fell.

"It didn't work," Lancelot observed sadly.

Arthur's hands clenched into fists.

Lancelot bowed his head over the still unconscious Merlin, his hand still ever so tenderly placed upon that still cheek. The other still cradling Merlin's neck to support its weight with the true steadiness of his dependable physicality even as his heart crumbled visibly before them.

"No," Gaius agreed quietly. Stating the obvious alongside Lancelot in despairing confirmation. "It didn't." He sighed and tilted his face toward the ceiling with his eyes closed, as if unable to bear being in this situation any longer and needing a moment to compose himself by forcefully shoving down all his pained emotions.

When he opened his eyes, they were misty. Arthur looked away from the sight and felt more helpless than ever.

"Well, we've put it off long enough," Gaius said with a deep sigh. "Carry him to his room - he isn't to wake any time soon. He should at least be comfortable in the meanwhile."

Arthur and Lancelot could have each by themself carried Merlin alone, especially as he was now with the weight lost from having not eaten anything but broth for so long. But they did not carry him alone. They shared the task between them. This, at least, was something they could do for Merlin. Though it was difficult, very difficult, to place him down and not be overcome with such anger and sadness because truly Arthur thought he'd be fixed by now. Needed him to be fixed by now.

Lancelot drew a blanket over Merlin's still form and gently tucked it around his thin body. He at last too sighed. And then he leaned down and placed a short kiss upon Merlin's forehead.

"That won't work," Arthur warned him.

Lancelot shook his head. "It wasn't for the enchantment. It was for Merlin. And for myself."

Despite it all, Arthur couldn't help but to scoff fondly.

They closed Merlin's door behind them. And it felt like an act of kindness - but to whom, Arthur couldn't say for he couldn't be sure of it himself.

It was dangerous for Lancelot to dwell within Camelot's borders. Arthur had put him at great risk by smuggling him back into the citadel. And so it came as no shock when Lancelot was packed the next day ready to depart. Though of course, it was a true pity that it had to occur at all; Lancelot was a good man, and an even better knight. Arthur would miss him.

Arthur offered his hand, and Lancelot took it firmly in a handshake.

"Goodbye, Your Highness," He said.

"Goodbye, Lancelot. May we meet again soon."

"Under better circumstances," Lancelot hoped. "If you can - please do have someone send word when Merlin awakens. It would greatly ease my mind."

Arthur inclined his head. "Of course. Thank you for coming. I'm sorry that - " He broke off. He was sorry for a great many things. It was difficult to vocalize them all.

"Yes," Lancelot agreed softly, "I am sorry too."

Arthur's heart ached for the man. "No, no don't be. Out of everyone we've tried, I know Merlin is as dear to you as you are to him. Your only fault is in being very loved; that is why it didn't work. Think nothing of it." Arthur had put too much conviction in Lancelot being the correct choice - if he had simply thought it over, he should have realized how deeply the two men cared for each other. Lancelot had only been in Camelot a short time, but in that time he had amply made a home in many a heart - Arthur's own included.

"I appreciate that," He said. Then Lancelot paused. "I don't mean to be unkind, sire," He said akin to a warning prelude to the next sentence. And then Arthur was thankful he had, seeing that the next sentence indeed was something he was glad to be braced for. "But you mentioned out of everyone that's been tried - well, have you tried everyone?" His brown eyes were piercing.

There was no misunderstanding what it was that he meant. Not between his somber air and the pity darkening his eyes even as Lancelot met his gaze without remorse.

They said nothing for a moment. The silence recalcitrant in how Lancelot refused to offer apologies for the insinuation despite the way he eventually lowered his eyes until his lashes brushed his cheekbones. Lancelot's beliefs in honor and integrity always shone brightly in important moments, even when that brightness hurt like too bright sun after a head wound, as it did now and as it did then when he'd left Camelot. Arthur was grateful for and also cursed him for this damned honesty. Sharp enough to cause Arthur to want to face away from it. But it was light; he had no reason to avoid his eyes from this even as it hurt him to look into - worse than brightness - his own heart.

Though no answer had been provided, it was still obvious both what the truth of it was. Of Arthur's cowardice.

"It's frightening." Lancelot's smile was maudlin. "Isn't it?"

Unsure of how to answer, Arthur swallowed down both the dishonest and honest reply to the question. It was. It truly was. Of course, Arthur could not dare to admit this aloud, even as he wanted to confide in his friend, who understood.

It was too ingrained in Arthur to quell all manner of outward affection towards others. As a prince - as a future king - he'd been raised to curry favor only as a tool. Anything other than indifference would not be tolerated - unless, of course, his father demanded that he gather favor by displaying signs outwardly of relationship ties that were for the sake of Camelot, never for Arthur's personal sake. Arthur could never voice his love for Merlin, never. Even now, he struggled to convey this to Merlin; he didn't, couldn't, explain to others the depth of this struggle nor the intimacy of his friendship toward his manservant.

Still, Lancelot nodded. As if a mutual understanding had been established between them. Lancelot was not a prince, nor a king, but the look upon him was of a man who understood why Arthur did not dare voice the intricacies of his heart aloud - out of duty, yes, and also lest they be too good to be true and shatter.

He reached out and grasped Arthur's upper arm in consolation. 

"Terrifying," Lancelot reiterated but this time in deliberate nonchalance. His loftiness shrugged off into heartfelt sincerity, "But Merlin is well worth it."

He was right. Of course he was.

Lancelot hesitated. "I couldn't wake him." He frowned, shaking his head. The both of them of course already knew this fact, and the both of them knew now that it was not any delivery of news that had Lancelot mentioning it now. "And I know the reason I hope it is why I couldn't - but I have to live with this doubt. Doubt that Merlin doesn't deserve. He's a good man. A loving friend. And he deserves far more than any of my ungraciousness or insecurities." He gave one final clasp to Arthur's shoulder and then broke contact to leave. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Graciously, he left instead of waiting for an answer from Arthur.

Because of all people, in this situation perhaps it truly was Lancelot who understood the most what Arthur was going through. Or perhaps if not that then he was the one who understood Arthur enough to understand. And the one who was kind enough, honest enough, and wise enough to bravely convey what needed to be said - for both Arthur and Merlin's sake.

Arthur sighed.

"Alright," He said at last to the empty room. "Alright."

Chapter Text

Merlin did not awaken.

"Damn you," Arthur whispered. And did not know whether he was addressing himself, Merlin, or the sorcerer who'd enchanted Merlin in the first place.

"Please," Arthur begged, "Please, I need you. Please, Merlin."

The moisture in his eyes - from the dust of Merlin's messy room, no doubt - overflowed, and Arthur roughly scrubbed them away with his fingers. He cleared his throat and offered, a tad hysteric and more than a tad desperate, "Merlin, I'll give you as many days off as you want. Just - " Arthur's voice broke on the next word, "Please, Merlin."

He couldn't bear it anymore. Truly, he couldn't. Each day Merlin remained unconscious was worse and worse than before, and it'd always been terrible from the start. "Wake up. Please."

As always, his manservant ignored the order given to him. Even though Arthur had used the word 'please' more times in one evening than he must have in one year. Merlin always did end up being contrary, so it could have been viewed as a comfort that even in unconsciousness he was still quite himself; yet Arthur felt no comfort from this. Just the intense desire for Merlin to wake up and be all right.

"How long," Arthur asked Gaius quietly, "Does it take for one to awaken after receiving the correct kiss?"

With a deep understanding of had remained unspoken, Gaius stared at him with tremendous pity. "The effects are near instant. A minute or two at most - certainly no longer."

Arthur closed his eyes.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

The physician's chambers were momentarily empty of anyone other than Arthur. It wasn't a surprise - not now that the seemingly endless queue of volunteers and potential candidates had truly run dry, all options exhausted and thwarted, leaving only those closest to Merlin to visit the physician's chambers now - and how Arthur had deliberately chosen a time whence he had seen through his window Gaius leaving his rooms and walking amid the courtyard to attend elsewhere.

Arthur had wanted the privacy, had timed it well.

And, as always, Merlin who was visible through the open doorway of his room left ajar, as if absconding him from view might endanger him - or at least their peace of minds. And there was something about the silence today that became so overbearing as Arthur walked through it and towards his friend's room. The void in which he was deprived Merlin's chatter seemed colossally stark, a wound he'd kept bandaged again and again and was now forced to admit that it'd bled through another wrapping. 

The silence between Arthur and Merlin was just as it'd been for weeks. Today it was somehow worse. Or perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps it was just that Arthur could no longer bear it. 

He wanted his friend back. The cruelty of having him so close - within his reach! the side of one knee pressed against Merlin's side! - and yet still too far away for Arthur to hold on to. It was cruel, cruel, so very cruel. 

His best friend was right here. And yet - and yet - and yet he wasn't here.

And there was nothing Arthur could do. Nothing but languish in this damned, tormenting silence.

Once he'd shut Merlin's door behind himself, Arthur could barely keep himself upright, so great was his grief in that moment. He approached the bedside and did not sit in the chair place along it but instead, as exhaustion set upon him, sat on the bed itself. His head and shoulders fell lowered over Merlin like a shield raised in protection uselessly after the blow's already been struck.

With both of his hands, he grabbed Merlin's hand and raised it to his bowed head. Held that hand to his brow as he tried not to lose hope. Between his palms, Merlin's hand was warm. Not cold. Not feverish. Warm.

Arthur had to keep faith. Merlin wasn't done fighting - and neither was Arthur.

He inhaled deeply  Then carefully tucked Merlin's fingers more securely - now the semblance of a lose fist - between the shelter of his own two hands.

Arthur kissed Merlin's fist with great sorrow, his lips lingering as if prolonged proximity would cure what he first attempt had not. With his shoulders and head bowed so low, by doing so there was very little space left between the two of them - and in some places no space at all. 

The kiss upon Merlin's hand therefore became not just a kiss but something akin to an embrace.

As he knew in his heart that he wouldn't, Merlin indeed did not awaken. Still, Arthur had to try. This was not a gracious second kiss as Lancelot had given. Not for Merlin and not for himself. No, this was unforgiving desperation that took hold on Arthur and commanded that he try again even though he knew - he knew - oh he knew the stark horror of reality: that nothing would be solved by doing so. This wasn't delivered for anything other than terrified dread.

Arthur closed his eyes. He removed his mouth from the kiss but did not separate himself from the hunching almost-hug that he wanted to make full and instead leaned further until his forehead rested upon Merlin's forehead. This - this could be for him. Lancelot had the right idea of it - physically tethering oneself to Merlin was excellent reassure in that Merlin was still here and, damn it, so was Arthur. And neither of them would be going anywhere. 

His two hands still held Merlin's between them; but in light of the failure of his kiss and the way he pressed their brows together, he brought them away from his own face and, in the only direction available in their close proximity, brought them downward towards Merlin's face so that Arthur wouldn't foolishly attempt to try again and again, and again, and again, and - 

God, how much longer could either of them even endure this? Who would break first - himself or Merlin? He hoped, he feared, the answer was himself. Because otherwise that meant -

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, voice creaking and more beautiful than anything Arthur had ever heard. A miracle.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed as he opened his eyes to see the glorious sight below him of Merlin looking the little distance up at him - in a vaguely cross eyed manner due to how close the two of them were - and Merlin's confused expression partially hidden by the way his lips pressed against his own hand in what, one could argue, was a kiss. 

Arthur laughed, incredulous and jubilant and about half a moment away from crying in sheer relief and joy both. "Merlin!" He pulled back and up out of the awkward yet intimate embrace to stare down at his best friend finally made conscious. He released Merlin's hand to instead hold Merlin's stupid, wonderfully awakened face. "Merlin!"

Not quite dexterous yet, Merlin groggily swatted at his hands with the feebleness of a kitten. "Quit it, already, would you, what are you doing?"

"Merlin," Arthur laughed the name. Unable to speak any other word other than it.

Merlin's furrowed brow shifted from confusion more towards amusement. It was the most brilliant sight, and - damn it - Arthur was going to cry. "Yes, hello to you too, Arthur. What's going on with you, honestly? You're acting weird." His eyebrows scrunched further as he peered up at Arthur with great focus. A thought occurred to him, obvious on his expressive face. "You haven't been enchanted again?" 

At that, Arthur laughed until the tears, indeed, came - though they did finally so out of something other than sorrow.

It only made Merlin all the more convinced of Arthur's supposed enchantment. But that was perfectly fine. Let him think whatever he waned so as long as he was awake to do so.

"Arthur, really," Merlin worried in only slight concern; Arthur had some time yet before the other truly begun to fret.

The laughter was a relief as was it painful. "Merlin," Arthur said and forwent explaining anything. That could wait for Gaius later. For now, Arthur basked in his - frankly overwhelming - emotions. "Whatever am I to do with you?"

With some offense, Merlin replied, "Me? You're the one acting strange!"

Merlin gave him the look of one who thought they were talking with an imbecile. It was so familiar and well-missed that Arthur struggled greatly to suppress his reactive bout of laughter. Arthur was so overcome that he could quite honestly kiss Merlin just for the sheer hell of it - though thank God kissing of any sort was no longer necessary.

"Merlin." Arthur said his name for the great reassurance in which he knew an answer would come.

"Yeah?"

And truly that was all Arthur needed.

The prince smiled and turned from Merlin's curious gaze. "I ought to send someone to find Gaius. He'll be relieved to hear you're finally better." He stood, to make good on the statement.

Merlin caught his hand and then held to his sleeve. Arthur looked down. His friend had a sober look, eyebrows pinched. "Arthur? How long have I...?"

Arthur himself wasn't entirely sure, lost the exact number in the frenzy of despair and worry. Merlin grimaced at his pause. Arthur hated seeing the expression on his face. "Really, Merlin," He chided in deliberate attempt to wipe it from his friend's face, "If you wanted some days off, all you had to do was ask me for it. No need to be dramatic."

Arthur left as Merlin's blustering indignant - "me? I'm the dramatic one? You!" - filled the room. Annoyance suited Merlin far better than guilt ever would. Or perhaps Arthur was just biased and partial to the sound of Merlin carrying on. After so long of being bereft of Merlin's voice, his complaints truly sounded wonderful to Arthur's ears. Though, if he were completely honest, he'd liked them just fine enough even before all of this had occurred.

He didn't know if Merlin loved Arthur more than he loved himself - or if he loved him not at all.

This curse of wondering, well it was no small burden to bear but one that Arthur would readily agree to if it meant that Merlin was cured of the enchantment.

And indeed he was; Merlin no longer slept. Funny, how the same could be said of Arthur, as he tried to forget the possibilities, of his insecurities, as it all pressed down upon him heavily at night. A price he would gladly, repeatedly pay in exchange for the guarantee of Merlin's life - but made no easier to sleep nonetheless by knowledge of that fact.