For everyone demanding a happy ending! Here you are. The other two chapters can be read as a standalone if you want to be without the cheesy romance ending. ;)

Enjoy!

-

In the old days he would have just assumed that Merlin was skiving because the idiot boy did what he wanted and was pretty much always late. However, after the disaster that had been there one night stand just over two months ago, Merlin had been the servant he'd never been before. He arrived early, did chores quickly and with an accuracy that Arthur had once thought impossible. He should have been delighted but it just further proved how their relationship was now nothing. Merlin did his jobs to avoid having to talk to the prince or to avoid staying longer than necessary. He hated that, hated not having someone to joke with after hours of training. Merlin made everything easy and light in a way no one else could but Arthur had managed to ruin that.

That was how he had found himself walking to Gaius' at twelve in the afternoon, ready to drag his once again ridiculous servant up to his chambers. But having entered it was clear there was something wrong. Gaius was over a stirring pot, a frown on his face and he looked older somehow.

"Where is he?" He asked as he stepped in and Gaius finally turned to look up, gave the Prince a blank stare and then finally answered gravely.

"In his room, Sire. He's sick."

"What's wrong with him?" He managed, already starting toward the boy's room.

"We aren't sure."

Arthur made short work of the steps that led to Merlin's room and pushed the door in. Guinevere was sat at his beside; she didn't look up, probably assuming it was Gaius who had entered. She was holding a damp cloth to the dark haired lads head with one hand and holding his paled one with the other. Merlin's face was like snow, the usual pink of his cheeks gone completely. In the weak light from the window, Merlin could almost be described as gray. His lips had a blue tinge and were dry and chapped. Worse of all, when those lips parted to suck in a deep breath, the chest rose slowly as though in pain. Even Arthur, who had no interest in medicine, could see that Merlin's lungs were not filling.

Guilt flooded him, Merlin had been complaining of being ill yesterday. He'd been dizzy on his feet and his eyes had been bloodshot. Out of sheer desire to have Merlin around him, he'd denied the man leave to rest and now he was at deaths door. His jaw gaped open as he watched the other, his friend or perhaps his more than friend was suddenly panicking as he tried to draw breath. Guinevere soothed him with gentle words and whispered softly:
"Slowly, breathe slower."

Merlin didn't seem to hear her, his fingers were grasping madly at the bed and he rolled his head to the side, toward the breeze floating through the window.

He hadn't stayed; the Prince had fled in panic.

-

Two days later, Merlin was still sick. Morgana had come to visit him in the morning, had gave him a pitying look before sending him down to Gaius' quarters.

Once again, the mood was sombre in the Physician's rooms. Everything was so eerily silent. It was dark when he entered and he passed through the room quickly. Merlin's room was equally as dark as the downstairs had been, Gaius and Guinevere sat either side of the bed and under a heap of covers he could make out the shivering outline of Merlin.

"No better?" Arthur managed as he stepped closer to the bed.

He quickly learned that Merlin was now frozen when the day before he had been too hot. He struggled for breath still, the terrible shudder of his frail chest rising made Arthur heart clench. There was though a tinge to Merlin's cheeks. A rose-red blush had spread across his face. He was both hot and cold at the same time and neither Gaius nor Guinevere seemed to know what to do about it. Merlin let out a feeble moan and his eyes clenched tight. He hated seeing the boy in so much pain; it made his own body ache and the bile rise in his throat. He sat down on a chair at the end of the bed, arms crossed across his chest and eyes focused on the gentle rise and fall of Merlin's breath intake.

The room was quiet except Merlin occasional cry of pain, once or twice he heard a barely murmured beg for his mother. That seemed to stir tears in Morgana's maid, for the girl bowed her head to Merlin and kissed his cheek. Gaius had promised to call Hunith, or whatever the woman's name was, if Merlin was no better after a week. However, after the third cry for her in the space of an hour and the elderly man stood. Arthur watched him with tired eyes and barely acknowledged him as he said softly to his ward.

"I'll send for her, ok? She'll be here soon, Merlin."

The boy's cries stopped and he went back into a fitful sleep, wheezy breaths drawing in air too sharply and too fast, yet he seemed more at peace now he knew he'd have the care of his mother. Arthur had often wished for his own mother when he was sick, instead he had wet nurses or nanny's to comfort him, later in life he had even had Morgana at his side.

-

Hunith arrived within three days and had taken permanent residence beside her son. There seemed some improvement in Merlin, his breathing was better and a little colour had lessened the snow of his flesh. Arthur watched awkwardly from the doorway or a corner of the room as Merlin had been petted or kissed. Each time the boy opened his blue eyes and focused bloodshot orbs on his mother he'd smile, delighted and reach a weak limb out to her. The blond always felt jealous when he saw this, at first he had thought it was merely because it must have been wonderful for a mother to first travel so far so quickly to get to him and then to stay awake all night in desperate fear something would happen if she slept.

But then when Guinevere sat opposite the mother and they'd take it in turns to croon comforting words to the sick servant or to peck him gently on the forehead, cheek or even his knuckles, Arthur realised it was little to do with the attention of a doting parent and more to do with the freedom and ability to show such love and affection.

With each passing day something tugged at his heart and made him almost sick. He skipped training sessions, meetings and even meals to lurk in Merlin's room and simply watch. No master would do such a thing for a servant and no friend would take such measures either. With every breath the boy took, Arthur could sigh in relief and each cry of pain could make the Prince shake in fear. The awkward tension that now seemed years ago that had followed their night of passion seemed to register something new in him.

Merlin, desperately, hauntingly beautiful Merlin; who lay violently sick now, was Arthur heart. He felt stupid now, stupid to be jealous that Merlin's mother and friend could love him openly, could hold him and tell him just how much they loved him. Stupid to remember telling Merlin that he didn't love him, how had he not realised it before? The realisation of it was so obvious. Morgana had seen it ages ago; perhaps he'd felt it too and simply not understood because that boy had been everything for so long. Arthur's every thought and desire had revolved around his servant, one night had quenched only one aspect of it but the emptiness he had felt for weeks after had little to with losing a valued friend, it had everything to do with Merlin: Beautiful, sweet Merlin who had been crushed by the greed of the Prince.

-

Later, much later when Gaius had persuaded Hunith to sleep and when Guinevere had retired begrudgingly to her chambers. Arthur convinced Gaius to leave him alone with the still sick Merlin. Once the old man had left, the Prince had sat on the bed; the closest he had dared to get since it all began. Merlin gasped in breath like a drowning man, the blond took a deep breath himself before he reached out and grabbed the young warlock's hand in his.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for how I treated you." He whispered and watched Merlin's face closely. The boy only winced in his sleep and let out a deep groan of agony.

The Prince reached out and stroked down the boy's heated cheek and frowned. Why could he do nothing to ease the suffering of someone he loved? Merlin jerked awake with a cry broken from his dry lips and throat. Arthur reached for the goblet of water beside the bed and then forced his manservant's head up and then tipped the water into house mouth. Merlin swallowed greedily, weak arms trying to force Arthur to tilt the glass more.

When he'd finally had enough, Arthur lowered him gently back to the pillow. Merlin watched him through tired eyes and Arthur could find no reason for him to be half asleep. Whilst Merlin had spent most of the week sleeping, Arthur had laid awake fretting and trying to make sense of why it hurt so much to see Merlin ill.

"Hi." The servant croaked and tried to smile but it was more a wince.

"Hey... Feeling better."

Merlin tried to nod, jerky movements that possibly hurt him far more than it should. Arthur raised a hand and pressed it to Merlin's cheek to stop him moving.

"Hands- Ha-... Cold." He stuttered and Arthur grinned and pulled away.

"Looks who's talking, like touching an ice cube." Merlin laughed a little and his head rolled back, eyes closing simultaneously.

"Night." Arthur whispered and lent down, then pulled back, before finally realising that no one would know... He bent over again and ghosted a kiss across Merlin's lips, forehead and lips again.

-

Merlin steadily improved. Two weeks elapsed since the kiss that only Arthur would know about. When finally Merlin was well again, Hunith left and Merlin returned to work. His was weak and slow about everything, Arthur found himself watching the boy closely as though expecting him to collapse. His breathing, though better, still pained him and he struggled with air after climbing stairs of lifting anything heavy. It was agony to watch and many times Arthur had sent him away early. Guilt for not doing so before had made him over-compensate.

He caught Guinevere with him one day. She sent strange looks over the servant and it was clear too that she expected him to fall over. It made him jealous again; it was his job to take care of Merlin, not hers... Yet at the same time, he could plainly see her concern was sisterly or even motherly, he saw no romance in her gazes or smiles nor anything in Merlin's laughter and grins in return.

-

Changed for bed one night and sipping his wine slowly, he watched Merlin with eager eyes, coughed and then looked away. He found himself wanting to say something that he knew he ought not to. But Merlin stared at him with piercing blue eyes and he found it was out of his mouth before he could even think it through.

"I- Merlin, I was worried."

"I'm fine."

"I nearly lost you... You could have died. I don't think I could have bared it."

Merlin's smile wavered; he seemed confused and shuffled from foot to foot, hands frozen on the coat he was folding.

"I realised something, something I should have realised ages ago. There's something about you, something-"

"Yeah, I know... You've told me that before, you don't need to explain. We're friends, I get that. I know you're concern was for a friend and not for me as anything more than that.

"Merlin, you idiot, let me finish." Merlin nodded his head a little, frowning at the Crowned Prince.

"Morgana noticed it months ago, so did you and I was too stupid or afraid; I don't even know what! But something stopped me seeing it. You aren't a friend Merlin, what I said... What I said before about not wanting you, about not loving you... When you were in that bed and I could feel you struggling to breathe, I thought I'd die with you. I knew, Merlin, I knew if you left that there would be nothing in this world worth staying for.

One day I will be King and one day I will have to marry and produce an heir, but it doesn't mean I'm not allowed... That I can't, I... Merlin..."

Arthur faltered, unsure how to finish and bowed his head and covered his face with his hand. This was ridiculous because he'd never been good at expressing feelings unless they were of the negative kind. Merlin took pity on him and still too pale to be healthy and still unbalanced, he wobbled closer to Arthur.

"Arthur, I-"

The one way he knew always proved affective to both shut Merlin up and sufficiently 'woo' the object of his affections was to kiss them and prove exactly why every girl in the land fell at his feet.

He stood; standing only an inch shorter than Merlin. It made it easier to kiss him, no stooping low to kiss a girl, he'd just move forward and he'd have Merlin well within his grasp.

The kiss wasn't dramatic like he had anticipated it would be. Sweet, tender and everything their relationship wasn't but it was completely and utterly perfect. Merlin sighed, the happiest and warmest he'd felt to Arthur since their night.

"I'm sorry." The Prince whispered to the air, he didn't often say it but this time it was for Merlin to hear, not for his unconscious to take note of.

Merlin kissed him instead of answering and for once, just for that moment in time, nothing else mattered. No distant future in which Arthur would be wed or a father, no Uther, no Guinevere and no Camelot.

Just Arthur and Merlin in a room lit by moonlight.

Authors notes: Am I forgiven for the angst?