Sick idiots

by TkMara

Summary:

Scenes of Merlin caring for his king and scenes of Arthur caring for his sorcerer.

Chapter 1

The castle was unusually quiet for that time of morning. No training echoed from the courtyard, no exaggerated laughter from Gwaine filled the hallways. The reason? The king was sick. And when Arthur Pendragon was sick, all of Camelot stayed calm and quiet in an attempt to keep their king happy.

 

Merlin pushed open the council room door without knocking, balancing a tray with hot tea and soup. He knew his king had been suffering from headaches and a cold these past few days, but today seemed worse.

 

The first thing he saw was Arthur slumped in his chair, looking completely miserable, his head lowered, one hand pressed against his temple. His face was pale, except for the feverish flush of his cheeks. A bead of sweat slid down his neck and disappeared under the collar of his tunic.

 

Merlin didn’t mince words. “You look awful.”

 

Arthur raised his eyes with a weak half-smile.

 

“And you look like an idiot, but I don’t comment on that first thing in the morning.”

 

“We should take you to your chambers; you look ready to pass out,” Merlin said firmly, setting the tray on the table and approaching the king.

 

Arthur coughed, then closed his eyes and leaned back farther in his chair. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a mild fever, I’ve had worse.”

 

Merlin arched a brow. “Mild fever? You’re sweating like a cow in summer and talking like you’ve had three barrels of mead.”

 

Arthur tried to stand—probably to prove a point—but his legs gave out immediately. Merlin lunged forward, catching him before he hit the ground.

 

“I could have managed…” Arthur muttered.

 

“Sure, and I’m the King of Camelot.”

 

Without giving him a chance to argue, Merlin slipped an arm behind Arthur’s back and another under his knees, lifting him with some effort. The king let out a surprised grunt.

 

“Put me down now! This is ridiculous! I’m the king, and I say I’m fine and don’t need to go to bed!”

 

Merlin only gave him a blank look and started walking out of the council room with him in his arms.

 

“Oh yeah? Well, since you’re as fine as you claim, stop me.” Arthur clenched his fists. “You can’t, can you? Because you’re sick, you idiot. I let you slide when it was just a stuffy nose and you could still knock me down if you wanted, but now I’m putting my foot down and putting you in bed.”

 

The king kept grumbling, but stopped when speaking became tiring and left him breathless.

 

On the way to Arthur’s chambers, they ran into their friends. The corridor was more crowded than Merlin would have liked. Leon and Gwaine were there, clearly in the middle of some pointless debate—now irrelevant. And then they arrived at the exact moment Merlin was carrying Arthur in his arms… unfortunate timing.

 

Gwaine immediately broke into a huge grin but froze as he got closer and noticed Arthur’s pitiful state, his expression shifting to tense concern.

 

“Hey, princess,” he called softly, surprising everyone enough that Arthur turned his head quickly to look at him. “You look… uh, great?”

 

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes, murmuring a faint, “Liar.”

 

“Merlin?” Leon called, his face serious though his sweaty palms betrayed him as he rubbed them against his cloak. “What’s wrong with the king?”

 

“Fever. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Merlin reassured them as he walked past, still carrying Arthur. “Tell George he’ll be bringing the king’s meals today. I’ll keep you updated on Arthur’s condition.”

 

The knights nodded respectfully, allowing Merlin to pass.

 

“You heard how Gwaine just talked to you?” Arthur coughed, then gave up with a defeated wave of his hand. “Still think you’re as healthy as you claim to be?”

 

“No…” he whispered softly, his voice rougher and slower, which Merlin definitely didn’t like.

 

They reached the chamber, and Merlin quickly laid his king down carefully on the bed. Arthur still huffed indignantly, but his pale face betrayed how little strength he had left to maintain any bravado.

 

Merlin summoned a bucket of warm water and ran his hand across Arthur’s forehead, frowning. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed his nose to Arthur’s neck, inhaling deeply.

 

Arthur barely blinked, long accustomed to his sorcerer’s eccentricities.

 

“I’m just checking it’s nothing serious.” Arthur raised a brow, silently questioning him. “I recently discovered dragons have an excellent sense of smell. I’ve been able to sniff out illnesses to help Gaius with treatments. It’s a pretty useful skill, if you ask me.”

 

“That just sounds like an excuse to say I stink, doesn’t it?” Arthur tried to joke but didn’t have the strength to laugh.

 

Merlin smiled, pulling back to fetch a clean cloth. Arthur tried to sit up in that moment, but Merlin quickly returned to stop him.

 

“Lie down and stay still. Don’t make me call Gaius to scold you—he’ll start one of his sermons, and we’ll both have to suffer through it.”

 

“You’re testing my patience…” Arthur grumbled hoarsely, attempting to scowl but wincing from the headache it caused.

 

“No, you’re testing my patience.”

 

Merlin dipped the cloth into the warm water, wrung it out, and gently ran it across Arthur’s forehead and the back of his neck, feeling how worryingly hot his skin was. Arthur closed his eyes, his body relaxing despite himself.

 

“You should have told me when the pain got worse!”

 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he coughed. “And I had work to do… no time to be sick…”

 

Merlin froze and turned to look at him, indignant.

 

“I worry anyway, you idiot! I care about you, not your work!”

 

Arthur opened one eye, staring at him with a faint smile.

 

“I know…” he sighed. “Sorry.”

 

Merlin’s expression softened, and he adjusted his seat to sit closer.

 

Arthur closed his eyes again, slightly flushed, his hand clutching discreetly at the hem of Merlin’s tunic as though afraid he might leave.

 

“…Stay with me until I fall asleep?” he whispered, breathless and tired.

 

“There’s nothing in this world that could make me leave your side, sire.”

 

Chapter 2

Arthur sat on the edge of the wooden tub, shoulders slumped, his face still flushed from fever and frustration. Steam rose from the hot water, carrying the scent of the herbs Merlin had thrown in to ease pain and calm his breathing.

 

“I’m cold, I don’t want to take a bath…” he muttered, his voice dragging like a man being led to the gallows.

 

Merlin sighed, adjusting the towel on the bench with the patience of someone far too used to this petulant side.

“You’re sweaty, and sweat brings illness. So sit there and shut up.”

 

Arthur crossed his arms, huffing. “You’re taking advantage of my weakness.”

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “I’ve killed in your name, nearly died in your name… keeping you alive is my greatest pleasure, sire.” He smiled with fake innocence. “Believe me when I say I’m not above using magic to undress you and put you in that tub if it means healing you.”

 

Arthur turned his face away, trying to hide the blush that had nothing to do with fever. He hated to admit, even to himself, just how dangerously exciting that idea sounded.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll cooperate.”

 

Merlin smiled at his surrender and slid his fingers to the collar of the king’s tunic.

“Good. Now, lift your arms.”

 

Arthur hesitated. The chill still clung to his skin like heavy armor.

“Is that really necessary?”

 

Merlin didn’t even blink. “Raise your arms, Arthur. Don’t challenge me. I’m your doctor, and I’ll do what’s needed. So obey.”

 

Arthur let out a weak grumble, hating being sick, hating feeling weak. But… it was Merlin. And Merlin had promised to take care of him. So he trusted him. He raised his arms reluctantly.

 

Merlin removed the tunic carefully, revealing skin slick with sweat and marked with scars, far too hot from the fever. The warlock sighed quietly — not in admiration, but genuine concern.

“You’re hot…”

 

Arthur forced a smirk. “I’m hot.”

 

“Idiot.” Merlin teased, but didn’t deny it — Arthur was beautiful. Always had been. And Merlin loved him completely.

 

Slowly, he helped him into the water, supporting him by the arm as if he might shatter at any moment. Arthur let out a deep sigh, the tension in his muscles melting away in the heat.

 

“I’d forgotten you could heat water with magic.” Arthur closed his eyes. “Damn whoever banned magic back then. Many days would have been better if I’d had baths like this.”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes fondly, took a small stool, and sat behind the tub. He soaked a towel and gently ran it along the king’s neck and chest.

 

Arthur stayed quiet, letting himself be cared for, small involuntary sighs slipping out of him. It was strange. Before Merlin, no one had ever cared for him like this — with genuine tenderness. It had always been mechanical, distant, almost cold. Merlin’s hands were warm, steady, safe. Arthur loved those hands.

 

For a moment, his mind drifted. He wondered if Morgana had ever longed for the same thing — true, intimate care. But no, Morgana had always had a mother, a father, servants who adored her. Even in Camelot, she had been loved by everyone: her attendants, the nobles, the people… Uther.

 

Uther who would visit Morgana when she was ill.

Uther who would never come to him.

 

Arthur let out a short, bitter laugh, so low it was nearly drowned out by the sound of water.

“I don’t like the sound of that laugh,” Merlin murmured, tipping a jug of water over Arthur’s hair and massaging his scalp gently. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?”

 

“No.” Arthur breathed deeply. “…It’s fine. Just… thank you, Merlin.”

 

“Hm? For what?”

 

Arthur opened his eyes and looked at him with raw sincerity. “For everything.”

 

Merlin looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. “You’re so strange sometimes, Arthur.”

 

The bath ended unhurriedly, Merlin helping him out with firm but gentle movements. Arthur was still warm, but his skin looked less pale — a sign that the fever was finally subsiding.

 

Merlin didn’t dress him — not this time — but guided him to bed and covered him with two heavy blankets. The softness of the bedding contrasted with the harshness of Arthur’s life. Merlin sat beside him, fingers combing through golden strands, as if the simple touch could shield him from every danger.

 

The door creaked, but neither moved. Gwaine appeared, likely checking if the king was well enough to reassure the other knights. But when he saw the scene — Arthur sunk into the pillows, almost smiling in exhaustion, while Merlin’s hand combed through his hair — he froze.

 

The door shut quickly, hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. Gwaine didn’t need to ask anything. Arthur would be fine. As long as he had Merlin, he would always be fine.

Chapter 3

Summary:

I decided that everything worked out in this fanfic! So in addition to Merlin being the court sorcerer, Gwen is still the queen, Arthur loves his wife and Merlin, Morgana is doing rehabilitation with the Druids and being loved by Gwen, and Aithusa and Mordred are the babies of this great polyamorous couple.

The night was silent, broken only by Arthur’s heavy, uneven breathing. He lay in bed, hair messy, skin still damp with fever sweat. The faint candlelight cast soft, shifting shadows across the room’s walls.

 

Merlin, seated at his side, adjusted the blanket over the king’s chest. He had stayed awake all night and needed to step out, even for just a minute, to inform the knights as he had promised.

 

He tried to stand without making a sound, hoping not to wake Arthur—a near-impossible task when you’re the clumsiest person in Camelot trying to slip past the most alert man in the realm.

 

The moment Merlin rose, a warm hand gripped his arm with surprising strength for someone who had been so weak moments ago.

 

“Don’t… don’t go…” Arthur murmured, voice hoarse.

 

Merlin froze, glancing down at the hand holding him.

 

“It’s all right. I’m not leaving, I’ll just be gone for one minute.”

 

A broken sob followed, along with a soft, “please.”

 

Arthur’s eyes glistened with unexpected tears. Merlin blinked, startled, his chest tightening as he knelt by the bedside to meet the king’s gaze.

 

“Hey… hey, why are you… crying?”

 

Arthur turned his face away, embarrassed, yet his hand refused to release Merlin’s arm.

 

“I’m not. Just… dust in my eyes.”

 

Merlin sighed softly. Arthur could pretend all he wanted, but the tears kept falling.

 

“Arthur, you don’t have to do this. You’ve never cried for me before… what’s wrong?” Merlin asked gently, placing his free hand against Arthur’s warm cheek.

 

Arthur’s grip tightened, his eyes avoiding Merlin’s.

 

“I… it’s just that no one’s ever stayed for me. Not like this. Stay. Just… stay. Please.”

 

Merlin’s heart twisted. The proudest man he’d ever known was practically begging.

 

Merlin sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

 

“All right, Arthur. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Arthur relaxed a little, but still didn’t let go of his arm, as if afraid Merlin would vanish despite the promise. Merlin rolled his eyes fondly at the king’s stubbornness and, without thinking too much about it, climbed onto the bed and pulled Arthur against his chest.

 

“I’m not leaving your side, okay? I’m here… everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered against Arthur’s hair. The warmth of the embrace made him sweat, but he didn’t care.

 

Outside the room, the door was slightly ajar. Sir Leon, who had been discreetly standing guard, swallowed hard and turned to Gwaine, Elyan, Mordred, and Percival, all of whom had been camped outside the door for hours.

 

“It’s cute, you know…” Gwaine said with a mischievous grin. “He’s literally rocking our king to sleep.”

 

“Shhh!” Elyan hissed, smacking him on the shoulder. “Shut up before they hear us.”

 

“You think they’ll get married someday?” Mordred suddenly asked, making everyone turn to stare at him. “I mean, Arthur’s the king. Even if there were laws against it, he could just change them, right?”

 

Leon let out a long, tired sigh.

 

“Honestly, Mordred, with those two… you never know.”

 

“They don’t even need an official marriage,” Percival added, in a tone far too casual for the moment. Everyone turned to him now. “What? I’m serious. Merlin is technically Aithusa’s father; Arthur, in a way, adopted you, Mordred; they both love Gwen and act like her husbands; Merlin’s been helping to rule for years and—” He suddenly froze, eyes going wide as a thought hit him. “By the gods… if Gwen is married to Arthur, who’s dating Merlin, but she’s also somehow with Morgana, and Morgana adopted you and Aithusa, which makes her technically Arthur and Merlin’s co-mother… does that mean Arthur married his own sister?!”

 

A heavy silence filled the corridor. Everyone looked at each other, struggling to make sense of that mess of logic. Only Leon reacted differently, crossing his arms with the kind of deep disgust only years of dealing with idiots could produce.

 

“That’s it. We’ve been up all night without sleep, and it’s melting your brains. Go to bed. Now. Or I’m telling Gwen everything when she gets back from visiting Morgana.”

 

His tone left no room for debate. Within seconds, all the knights scattered down the corridor.

 

Chapter 4

Arthur was sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows. He was still sweating, but he looked much better than the night before. He held a cup of tea, trying to maintain some dignity despite his disheveled hair and the tunic hanging loosely open at the chest.

 

Merlin walked in with quick steps, visibly irritated. He had just returned from a Council meeting where he’d been forced to listen to a string of absurd remarks about the “possibility of Arthur dying.” He had nearly lost his temper, and only his friends holding him back had kept him from attacking the old councilors. It had only made him angrier.

 

“Do I even want to know?” Arthur asked, not really expecting an answer.

 

Merlin huffed, rolling his eyes.

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a lazy smile forming.

 

Without warning, Merlin stepped closer and pulled Arthur’s tunic aside, pressing a hand against his chest.

Arthur’s eyes widened, and he almost dropped the cup.

“What are you doing?!”

 

“Checking your temperature,” Merlin replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world, sliding his hand down to Arthur’s abdomen. “You’re still burning up. That’s not good. You should be better by now.”

 

“Merlin…” Arthur glanced at the half-open door. “This is indecent! What are people supposed to think, seeing you groping me under my clothes?”

 

“Maybe they’ll think you have a fever, which you do,” Merlin shot back, now placing his other hand on Arthur’s neck and leaning closer until his nose brushed his skin. Merlin inhaled subtly, making Arthur roll his eyes.

 

“I’m not dying! Stop sniffing me, you weirdo.”

 

“You still smell like sweat—classic fever—but a little less intense,” Merlin noted, completely serious.

 

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless.

“You… are really strange.”

 

“And you’re dehydrated. Where’s the water I told you to drink?” Merlin snatched the cup from his hands, checking how much was left.

 

Arthur looked at him with an amused glint in his eyes, a slow smile spreading.

“You know, if someone walked in right now, they’d think you were trying to court me.”

 

“I’m conducting a medical examination, Arthur.”

 

“Oh, right… a medical examination with your hands still inside my tunic?” Arthur raised his eyebrows, nearly laughing. “Want to take off the trousers too, just to make sure of the ‘overall temperature’?”

 

Merlin rolled his eyes dramatically and pulled his hands out of Arthur’s clothing.

“You try to help an idiot, and he acts like a spoiled noble. Honestly, how indecent of you to suggest I have ulterior motives toward you!”

 

“And don’t you?” Arthur countered with a mischievous smile.

 

Merlin paused, looked at him for a long moment, and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“I’m offended… how dare you accuse me of something I’m obviously doing?”

 

Arthur stifled a laugh—his throat still hurt too much to really laugh.

“So… are you going to continue your examination?”

 

“You’re impossible.” Merlin adjusted the tunic at his chest with a quick tug. “You’re still warm. You’ll have to take another bath.”

 

Arthur groaned like a sulking child.

“You just want to see me naked.”

 

“Of course. Because watching you sweat and whimper because the water’s too cold is the highlight of my day.” Merlin replied dryly, though he couldn’t hide a small smile.

 

Outside, Gwaine and Elyan—who had just taken over guard duty from Mordred and Percival—stopped by the half-open door. They listened to the conversation and exchanged a look.

 

“Did you hear that?” Elyan whispered.

 

“Unfortunately, yes.” Gwaine grinned broadly. “Should I tell Gaius, or just let him have a meltdown when he finds out Merlin’s trying to seduce our ‘princess’ while he’s still sick?”

 

“Let him find out on his own. I don’t want to sit through one of his lectures.” Elyan whispered back, and the two of them walked away, barely holding back their laughter.

Chapter 5

Merlin woke up with a strange heaviness in his body, his head throbbing as if he’d taken a club to the skull. The timid sunlight streamed through the small window, but sweat was already running cold down the back of his neck. He tried to sit up slowly, taking a deep breath, but his body responded with a stubborn shiver.

 

“Great… first Arthur, now me,” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.

 

The door creaked, and Gaius appeared, holding a steaming bowl.

 

“Merlin! You should be in bed.” The physician frowned at the pale young man. “You’re sick; you need to rest.”

 

Merlin tried to smile as if nothing was wrong.

“I’m fine, Gaius. Relax, I’ll just do a quick spell and—” he sneezed, and a burst of fire shot out of his mouth, nearly hitting the old man. “Ish.”

 

Gaius slapped the table, catching Merlin’s attention.

“You’re going nowhere. You’re weak, your magic is unstable, and today you’re going to do one thing: lie down and take this potion. Now.”

 

Merlin grimaced at the green liquid but drank it. The moment Gaius turned to rummage through his shelves, Merlin tried to escape. His jacket was barely on his shoulders when he opened the door, still swaying slightly.

 

“Merlin!” Gaius called out, irritated. “If you leave this room, I swear—”

 

“I’ll be quick, promise!” Merlin said, laughing, not slowing his pace.

 

He didn’t even make it out of the hallway.

 

“Merlin!” two voices called out.

 

Arthur and Gwen were walking toward him, strides purposeful, clearly looking for him. Gwen looked bright, happy to be back, and eager to see her friend. But when they saw his trembling, pale, sweat-covered figure, they stopped short. In two steps, they were at his side, each gripping one of his shoulders.

 

“Merlin, what happened?” Gwen asked softly, slipping her hands under his tunic to check his temperature.

 

“He probably caught what I had last week. Merlin looked after me the whole time.” Arthur ran a hand through Merlin’s sweaty hair, brushing it off his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

 

Merlin tried to pull back.

“It’s just a cold, I already took my medicine, I’ll be fine... ah-ah—”

 

He sneezed, and this time, instead of fire, his whole body flew backward and landed on the floor.

“Damn it...”

 

“Merlin!” The couple rushed to kneel beside him.

 

Arthur huffed, crossing his arms.

“‘Just a cold,’ huh? Idiot, you should be in bed!”

 

“I agree,” Gwen said firmly.

 

“Arthur, I just need to—”

 

He didn’t finish because Arthur had already scooped him up effortlessly, ignoring his protests.

“ARTHUR! Put me down!”

 

“No.” Gwen cut in before Arthur could speak. “You’re going to bed, and we’re going to take care of you until you’re better. Right, Arthur?”

 

Arthur nodded.

 

Gaius appeared down the hall, holding another potion.

“Let me guess, he wasn’t supposed to leave the room, was he?” Arthur asked.

 

Gaius only shook his head, trying not to laugh.

“I’m afraid not, sire. Merlin shouldn’t even get sick. As a magical creature, he’s supposed to recover before symptoms even show.”

 

The couple exchanged a worried glance.

“So… can it kill him?” Gwen asked, hands clasped to her chest.

 

“Oh yes, technically, but—” Arthur and Gwen recoiled in horror, and Gaius hurried to clarify: “But don’t worry! He can’t die from ordinary human illnesses. His body’s only this weak because he spent days without sleep while taking care of the king.”

 

Arthur clenched his jaw.

“So it was my fault…”

 

“Shut up.” Merlin weakly patted his back. “I would have looked after you anyway, whether you liked it or not. It’s not your fault.”

 

“But—”

 

Gwen touched her husband’s hand.

“Don’t blame yourself, dear. Merlin’s right. Although… it was very reckless of you not to rest, Merlin.”

 

“I know, Gwen…” he sighed.

 

He sneezed again and, instead of fire or force, spat a lightning bolt that scorched the stone wall in front of him.

 

Arthur and Gwen stared at each other, startled; Gaius rubbed his forehead.

“Ugh, I hate being sick…” Merlin groaned.

 

“You’ve only been sick a handful of times in your life, boy,” Gaius noted.

 

“That’s still enough to hate it.”

 

Arthur and Gwen exchanged a knowing look and nodded.

“By the authority granted to me and my wife, you, Merlin, are officially under house arrest until the physician clears you,” Arthur declared with deliberate seriousness.

 

“Oh, come on, that’s not funny,” Merlin grumbled.

 

“Good, because it’s not a joke.” Gwen smiled. “You’re staying in our room until you get better. No excuses.”

 

“In your room? I can stay in mine—”

 

“No.” Gwen cut him off. Arthur was already walking down the hall, carrying him as if he weighed nothing. “You took care of us, now it’s our turn. And honestly, we don’t trust you to follow orders.”

 

“You’re overreacting, I—”

 

“Merlin?” Arthur called.

 

“Let me guess… shut up?” he sighed, earning a laugh from Gwen.

 

“Exactly.”

 

They reached the royal chamber. Gwen opened the door, and Arthur gently placed Merlin under the covers, adjusting his pillow.

 

“If you try to get up, I’ll tie you down,” he teased, using Merlin’s own words against him.

 

Gaius entered behind them with another potion.

“Gaiusss…” Merlin pleaded for help.

 

“I’m not arguing with our king and queen.” Gaius smirked, handing over the vial. “Here’s the fever remedy, Majesties.”

 

Gwen held it as if it were a treasure. “When should I give him the next dose?”

 

“In five hours, my queen. I’ll bring the next medicine later.”

 

“Thank you, Gaius.” The couple spoke together as the physician left.

 

Merlin sighed, defeated.

“I hate you…” he said to Arthur, then added, “Not you, my queen, just him.”

 

Gwen laughed. “Of course you do.”

 

Arthur silently tucked the blankets around him with unusual care.

“Now sleep, Merlin. I can’t stay long, but Gwen will look after you until I get back.”

 

Merlin closed his eyes, the fever’s warmth mixing with the comfort of having been carried there. For all his grumbling… he secretly loved it.

 

“Sweet dreams, Merlin.” Gwen kissed his forehead gently.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 17 of MERTHUR SAD AND SOFT