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Arthur had never been so glad to see a tavern before. Especially a tavern that had an attached inn. He and Merlin, along with the knights, were on their way back to Camelot after a difficult and long week tracking a magical creature that was terrorizing the towns and villages in the northern hills. Under normal circumstances, Arthur would have been perfectly content to spend another night under the stars gathered around a fire with his friends. However, it had been raining for most of the morning and all of the afternoon and he was drenched to the bone. No fire would start tonight and he had no intention of sleeping in the rain and being miserable if he could avoid it.
Luckily, Gwaine had passed through the area before and knew of the inn that the tavern boasted. Arthur had always questioned Gwaine’s former lifestyle, but tonight he was grateful the man had wandered from tavern to tavern before he’d met him. They rode to the stables behind the inn immediately, not wanting to stay in the rain a moment longer than they had to. Leon went inside to pay for their rooms and the stalls for their horses and within half an hour they each had their horses fed and bedded down for the night, their bed rolls and bags slung across their backs, their clothes dried out a bit and not nearly as uncomfortable as they had been. They made a mad dash through the continuing deluge into the tavern, where they were met with the hard stares of the few patrons scattered among the tables.
Arthur noticed that Gwaine was trying his best to hide his face and he couldn’t help but smile, wondering what had happened here that the man was trying to avoid. Rather than make a scene, Arthur took the lead and went straight to the bar as the others sat, where the burly bar tender sized him up. “Six tankards of mead and six bowls of stew,” he ordered. The man only grunted and turned around, grabbing a few tankards and heading to the nearest barrel. Arthur made his way to the table his men had grabbed next to the fire and sat down in the only available seat, next to Merlin, who sniffed and blinked rapidly.
“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, crinkling his nose.
“It’s nothing,” Merlin said through a stuffed nose. “I’m fine.”
Arthur raised a brow. “If you say so.” He looked his servant over and did not come to the same conclusion. He looked as though he were becoming ill. His features were drawn and pale, his eyes almost unfocused. He’d seemed a little out of sorts this morning, which was why Arthur had decided to leave the burial of the magical creature they’d killed to the townsfolk and had left immediately for Camelot. The last thing he wanted was Merlin getting sick while they were traveling and not being able to get him back to Gaius quickly enough. Unfortunately, he looked worse now than he had this morning. Then Arthur looked at the rest of his men to find them all with tired eyes and slumped shoulders. They each needed to get out of their wet clothes and into a bed for some proper rest as soon as possible, else they would all be sick come daybreak.
Truth be told, the main reason he’d decided to stop at the inn at all was to make sure Merlin didn’t get any worse and got a good night’s sleep. He would have been fine to ride through the night and get home tomorrow afternoon, but Arthur didn’t want Merlin getting sick and he definitely didn’t want that for the rest of his friends, either. Unfortunately, it looked like his plan hadn’t quite worked the way he thought it would.
A server came over with their stew and mead, waiting patiently as Leon counted out the money and handed it to him. Arthur had never consumed a meal so quickly. He was famished and the stew, combined with the mead, began to warm him from the inside out. He could already feel himself relaxing, especially next to the warm heat of the fire. His clothes weren’t as damp as they had been, he noticed.
Leon started handing out the room keys, startling Arthur out of his dazed state. It was a testament to the quality of the place that there were keys for the rooms at all; even The Rising Sun back in Camelot didn’t bother to have locks made for their doors. “There are two beds in each room, so we have three total. Each one has a fireplace where we can dry our things.”
“Perfect,” Gwaine said, smiling. “In that case, I choose Percival as a room mate.”
“Hang on,” Elyan spoke up. “Why do you get to choose first?”
“Because I spoke up first,” Gwaine winked. “I can’t help it if you’re too slow.”
“What if I don’t want to room with you?” Percival raised a brow, grinning softly.
“Percival, my friend,” Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder. “Obviously Arthur will take Merlin with him, and out of the four of us who are left, I’m the only one who doesn’t snore.”
The big knight’s grin got even wider. “Fair point.” He nodded to Leon and Elyan. “I’ll bunk with him.”
The other two knights just shook their heads and laughed as they all got up from the table, taking their cleaned bowls and empty tankards back to the bar, where they left them with the burly man from earlier. He offered only a grunt in response. As they each approached their rooms and paired off they said their goodnights and made promises to leave early in the morning so they could get home before dark.
Arthur almost collapsed on his bed when he saw it but decided against it since he was still in clothing that was damp and dirty. Thank goodness they packed their spare clothing in bags that had been oiled, making them almost impervious to rain. He and Merlin dropped their packs on the benches at the end of their beds and Merlin got right to work getting a fire going in the hearth. When he left to get more wood, Arthur took the opportunity to change out of his clothes and replace them with the dry ones he’d brought. There were a few spots on them that were damp, but nothing uncomfortable, and he was sure they would dry in moments if he were to stand next to the fire for a bit. Merlin returned just as he was hanging his wet clothing from the line above the hearth.
“You got undressed by yourself?” Merlin asked incredulously, his voice congested, a note of sarcasm underlining his words.
“I’m not completely incompetent, you know,” he teased back. “I can get in and out of my own clothes.”
Merlin frowned. “Yes, well…that’s debatable.”Arthur noticed him smirking softly as he knelt and stacked the wood next to the hearth, throwing in a few logs. “Your shirt’s on inside out.”
He looked down at himself and laughed along with Merlin. “So it is.” He quickly righted the mistake, feeling much more at ease as he put the shirt on correctly.
Merlin stared at him from where he knelt. “I do believe you’d be helpless without me,” he surmised, standing and walking slowly over to his bag of fresh clothes.
“Hmm,” Arthur thought. “I think it’s actually the other way around.”
“Oh, is it?” Merlin asked, feigning shock at the accusation.
“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. He broke, and a broad grin split his features as he laughed. His servant joined in a moment later. Arthur shook his head and turned to his bed as Merlin got undressed, busying himself with the sheets and the pillow.
A loud echo reverberated throughout the chamber as Merlin sneezed. Arthur couldn’t help but look back at him, and what he saw worried him. His friend was shivering now that his wet clothing was off, and his fresh, dry clothes didn’t seem to be helping much. “Merlin? Are you alright?” he asked for the second time that night.
Merlin tried for a smile but didn’t succeed. “I’m fine.”
Arthur walked over to him, looking him up and down. “Well, that’s a rubbish answer, and we both know it. What’s wrong?”
He sighed, features crumbling. “I can’t get warm. And my head…my head feels like someone’s beating on it with a mace. And trust me, I’ve had enough experience with that to know,” he tried to joke.
“Come on,” Arthur grabbed him by the arm gently and led him to the single chair by the fire. “Sit here and think warm thoughts until I get back.”
Merlin sank into the chair then looked back at him as he was leaving the room. “Wait, back? Back from where?”
“I’m going to see if this place has any extra blankets,” he responded, not waiting for his servant’s answer as he closed the door behind him. Headache, shivering, couldn’t get warm: all signs that pointed to Merlin having a fever and actually being ill. Arthur was glad they’d stopped for the evening when they had. He walked up to the bar tender again and smiled, which was not reciprocated. “Do you have any extra blankets, by chance?” he asked nicely.
Arthur wasn’t at all surprised when all he received in return was a grunt. The man lumbered off and returned within a minute, two blankets held in his outstretched hands. He took them gratefully and thanked the man, who actually rewarded him with a small smile this time. He made his way back to their room quickly, the blankets clutched tightly in his grasp. He was tempted to knock on the other knight’s doors and ask them for any extra blankets they might have, but thought it foolish. Surely Merlin would be fine with just two. A good night’s rest and he’d be fine in the morning.
When he opened the door to their room and looked to the fireplace to find his friend, however, he was shocked to find the chair empty. He swung his gaze toward the beds and found Merlin curled up on his side underneath the sheets shivering, his eyes closed. Arthur was at his side in moments. “Merlin?”
His servant opened his eyes slightly, his gaze never quite focusing on Arthur. “I’ll be fine,” he whispered.
“Well, that’s debatable,” Arthur echoed from their conversation earlier. “You look terrible.”
Merlin grinned softly, closing his eyes again. “Not as bad as you,” he sighed. His grin slackened, his body going limp as he slipped back to sleep.
“Merlin?” Arthur said, worried. He put the back of his hand to his friend’s forehead, alarmed to find it so hot. He supposed it was best that Merlin get rest. He’d have to get Merlin to Gaius as soon as they got back home tomorrow. Maybe even give his servant a few days off to recover. If there was anything Arthur hated more than being sick, it was being sick and having to perform his duties and go about his responsibilities like normal. He wouldn’t make Merlin do the same thing, no matter how much he teased him about it.
He stood, unfurling both the blankets and draping them over Merlin one at a time. Arthur almost jumped out of his skin when his friend coughed in his sleep, the sound rough and hoarse, like it hurt. He wavered for a moment but then nodded to himself, deciding that another blanket couldn’t hurt. He went back to the bar, only to learn that those two had been the last. He thanked the man again and headed straight to Gwaine and Percival’s room, knocking quickly before entering. He wasn’t surprised to find them still awake. Arthur knew turning off their instinct to always be on guard wasn’t easy. He had trouble with it himself.
“Arthur,” Gwaine crinkled his brows in confusion. “Everything alright?”
“No, actually,” Arthur said, concern lacing his words. “It’s Merlin. He’s feverish, sick. Do you have any extra blankets?”
Gwaine was on his feet in seconds, grabbing their last blanket from where it had been lying across the chair near their fire. “Take this,” he said, his words and movements urgent.
Arthur took it gratefully. “Thank you,” he nodded as he left.
“Arthur,” Gwaine called. When he turned around, the knight’s lips were thinned in a frown. “Alert us if anything should change, eh?”
“I will,” he promised, shutting the door behind him as he went to Leon and Elyan, who quickly offered him their remaining blanket as well and extracted from him the same promise he’d given to Gwaine. He sometimes forgot that Merlin was as beloved by them as he was by Arthur.
When he got back into their room he was relieved to see that his friend wasn’t shivering nearly as much as he had been. However, he was alarmed when Merlin’s cough persisted. Unfortunately, Arthur could do nothing about that. No one here but Merlin knew what to do with the healing herbs they’d brought with them, and it was far too late to find a physician who would do anything for what appeared to be a bad cold this late at night. Still, Arthur was worried. He had every intention of leaving first thing in the morning and not stopping until they reached the courtyard of the castle in Camelot.
After he spread the new blankets over his friend, he put the back of his hand to his forehead. Arthur wasn’t surprised to find that it was still hot. Far too hot for his liking. He hated that there was nothing he could do. He had no skill or talent for the healing arts. For a moment he wondered if four blankets were enough, or perhaps too many, if they would harm more than help his friend, but in the end he decided to leave it. Better to let him be comfortable instead of miserable. Merlin seemed to be sleeping peacefully now, and that was enough for Arthur.
He sat by the fire for awhile, attuned to each of Merlin’s movements just in case something should go wrong, but when nothing more seemed amiss and the warmth of the fire and the exhaustion in his bones began to lure him to sleep, Arthur hastily roused himself. He stacked more wood on the fire, ensuring that it would burn for at least another few hours, before reluctantly climbing under the sheets of his own bed and settling in for the night. He faced Merlin, hoping that if something happened in the night he would easily hear and be able to help. He fought it for as long as he could, but eventually Arthur fell asleep to the light, congested snores of his friend, thinking of ways to ease the journey home for him tomorrow.
* * * * * * *
“Arthur.”
He was slow to wake, far too comfortable in his warm bed to be bothered with training or council sessions or whatever else Merlin was about to tell him was planned for the day. Just one day, he would like to be able to sleep well past the rising of the sun.
“Arthur!”
He was going to kill his servant. If Merlin didn’t stop—
Merlin.
Sudden clarity made Arthur almost bolt upright as he rapidly blinked sleep from his eyes. He scanned the room, absentmindedly noting that the fire was now nothing more than smoldering coals, before realizing that Merlin was staring at him with an amused grin. Arthur rubbed a hand across his eyes, sighing as his heart began to slow its frenzied beating. He’d thought something was wrong. “Feeling better, are we?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?” Merlin raised a brow. “And why are there four blankets on my bed? It’s nearly sunrise, you know, we should have been up an hour ago.”
It was Arthur’s turn to raise a brow. “What on earth are you talking about?” he asked incredulously. “Last night you were barely coherent and running a fever, don’t you remember any of that?”
“Well, if I was barely coherent then I wouldn’t, would I?” he said sarcastically.
Arthur almost threw something at him. If there had been anything close by he probably would have. Instead, he simply shook his head and tried a different approach. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better, I suppose. The same as yesterday. Well, before whatever happened last night…happened.” Merlin shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
“Clearly,” he agreed. “Up for the rest of the journey home, then?”
“If it means I get to sleep in my own bed, then yes. Definitely.”
“You’re sure you’re alright?”
Merlin actually rolled his eyes. “Yes, Arthur, I’m fine.”
He grinned. “Well, in that case, you can wake the other knights, get my breakfast, help me dress, make sure our horses are fed, watered, and saddled, and then return those blankets to where they belong.”
Merlin stared at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the correct words. Finally, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a giant prat?”
Arthur pretended to think about it for a moment. “Perhaps, once or twice,” he finally conceded. The next thing he knew, there was a pillow smacking into his face. He slowly removed the offending object and raised a brow as he looked toward a smirking Merlin. “I could put you in the stocks for that.”
“Sure, but who would fetch your breakfast, then?”
“I think by now we’ve established George as a suitable replacement for you, Merlin.” Arthur relished in the look that passed across his friend’s features, even as another pillow flew toward him, hitting him in the chest this time. He laughed, glad that Merlin was feeling well enough to joke around with him. He had been incredibly worried the night before, and was now much more at ease knowing Merlin would be alright at least until Gaius could take a look at him.
He was still laughing when Merlin got out of bed and pulled on the clothes that had been drying on the line above the hearth overnight, shaking his head and muttering under his breath all the while. And if Arthur saw the amused smirk on his friend’s face as he grabbed the blankets and left the room, he didn’t mention it. He had every intention of saddling the horses himself and getting his own breakfast, but, for now, he’d let Merlin think otherwise. It was far too much fun.