Hold on Loosely

by Nightfox

Chapter 7- An Intolerable Distance

"You smell like a pig, son. I've had a bath prepared for you."

"Yes Father, I am aware of that. There aren't exactly first class bathing accommodations in the dungeon."

"You'd have been brought water to wash in had you requested it."

"Really? From the guards' responses to my requests, I assumed I was denied everything but food and water."

"What do you mean? What responses? Are you saying you were abused during your confinement?"

Arthur could see the fury building in his father's eyes and hastened to divert it.

"No, no one abused me. They simply refused to speak...at all."

"Well, they aren't supposed to talk to prisoners, you know that, Arthur."

The Prince sighed. He knew. He also knew that if the guards themselves hadn't been so disgusted with the rumors of his behavior that at least one or two of them would have taken enough pity on him to answer a few questions.

"It didn't occur to me to ask for wash water, Father. I didn't receive any the last time you threw me in prison."

"The last time you were in prison it was only for a week."

"Yes, well, I'd better go avail myself of the bath you ordered. Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome. Oh and Arthur, I regret that I had to do this. You know I can't hold you above the law."

"It's alright Father. This time I deserved it."

Uther looked at him strangely for a long, long moment. Then he simply nodded and strode past Arthur's chamber door, his legs carrying him down the hall to his own. Arthur sighed and pushed into his room. He wasn't expecting to find Merlin standing by the steaming hot bath...and he didn't. So why then did his heart clench so hard in disappointment?

It wasn't Merlin but there was a servant standing ready to attend him. The man bowed quickly and started to introduce himself. Arthur cut him off swiftly. He dismissed the curly-haired blond without hesitation. There was no bearing the attendance of anyone who wasn't Merlin. He didn't want anyone else near him. The prince would do without rather than replace him. Considering how he'd treated Merlin, Arthur was mildly surprised anyone had been willing to serve him. Then again, no one would dare defy Uther over the appointment so he supposed willing wasn't a requirement for the job.

Stripping himself of his filthy clothes, he tossed them in a heap near the empty fireplace, intending to burn them to ashes later. He settled in the lukewarm water and missed Merlin even more. Somehow, that boy had always managed to have a steaming hot bath ready for him whenever he requested. Useless as he always claimed Merlin was, bathwater seemed to be something his servant had excelled at. He smiled faintly at the recollection even as his stomach twisted with the need to see the blue-eyed boy again.

He scrubbed himself raw and left deep scratches on his skin when he wrapped the cloth around a dagger to scrub his back. He made a mental note to sort out something less pointy for his next bath and rose from the water before looking around for a towel. The idiot boy who'd been in earlier had left the blasted thing on the bed. He shook his head and splashed his way across the room to retrieve it, thinking as he tried not to slip on the polished floor, Merlin always kept a towel over the edge of the screen. Arthur simply had to visit Gaius's chambers and soon.

Arthur dried and dressed himself quickly before running a comb carelessly through his damp hair. He didn't care at all what he looked like, he needed to see for himself if Merlin was still alive.

Merlin was bored. It'd been two days since he woke up from his second lapse into coma and Gaius was taking no chances. The mage had been ordered to stay in bed, no exceptions this time. The old man had looked so frail and worn after this last episode that Merlin didn't have the heart to defy him. So, although his head had stopped throbbing sometime during his last "deep sleep", as he liked to refer to it, he remained in bed doing absolutely nothing and letting the inactivity drive him insane. He had a job to do, didn't he? He remembered that he worked for the Crown Prince as his personal servant though he didn't really remember much of the particulars of his previous service. His memory seemed to be very spotty when it came to the Prince.

He remembered conversations about the man with the Great Dragon, who incidentally, hadn't seen the need to mind call him at all since he'd awoken. He didn't imagine the scaly know-it-all had been unaware of what was happening to him so he supposed the creature just had nothing new to impart to him about his "destiny". Merlin knew it was his duty to protect the young Pendragon so that when he became King he could restore magic to the land. He would free Merlin and his kind from this terrifying half-life they'd been living for the last two decades. The young warlock was also aware that he wasn't to discuss this destiny or his magic with the Prince. It didn't seem quite fair, at least the secret destiny bit. As he had no desire to shorten his lifespan, he did agree with the secret magic.

What he was struggling to remember was what Prince Arthur was like. He knew he'd been in his service for close at least six months now but since the blow to his head, he couldn't really remember any specific details about the man's personality. He could remember what the man's favorite foods were, his favorite clothes, his favored weapons and armour. He knew just how the man liked his wardrobe laid out and to what degree his boots needed polishing. He even remembered exactly how hot the Prince liked his bathwater and which scented oils he liked added to the tub. However, he was frustrated in every effort to recall specific events involving the Prince. There was no knowledge of what this Prince was like as a man, as a leader of men or even, more worryingly, what he was like as an employer.

How could he remember exactly how much lavendar oil to add to the man's bath and forget what the man himself was like? He could distantly recall his appearance. He had a vague mental image of blond hair, blue eyes and a muscular build but again, nothing more specific. He'd be tempted to tear his hair out if Gaius hadn't sheared it all off while he'd slept. It was growing back in but he still felt self-conscious about how short it remained. His ears stuck out quite ludicrously without his usual coal-black mop to demphasize them. He felt along the back of his head and found the newly healed scar that still disrupted the otherwise smooth surface of his scalp and sighed. Gwen had told him she'd had to crop that patch of hair down to the skin so Gaius had just gone ahead and cut the rest of his hair to match. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the shiny side of a metal cup and had grimaced at the sight that met his eyes. He'd avoided looking at shiny surfaces ever since.

At least his new hair style had the advantage of being easy to clean and maintain. A quick swipe of a soapy rag and it was clean, a quick swipe of a dry rag and it was styled. He laughed out loud at the thought and heard a gasp from the outer room of Gaius's suite. Finally, someone to distract him from his boredom!

"Hello! Gaius isn't here at the moment but I wouldn't mind some company if you want to wait for him!"

The door to his room had been deliberately left ajar and suddenly the opening was filled with a tall broad shouldered man. Cerulean blue eyes were wide with shock and full lips gaped half-open. The man's dark golden hair flopped carelessly over his forehead, nearly covering those startling eyes. Merlin studied him for a moment comparing the vision before him with the fuzzy mental image he had of the Prince he served and decided they were close enough to take a chance.

"Prince Arthur?"

The blond royal had knocked softly on the outer door to Gaius's suite but received no response from within. He carefully pushed the door open and slipped inside. When he saw the door to Merlin's room was wide open his heart plummeted. In all the time he'd known Merlin to occupy that back room, the door was never left open. He'd been slowly making his way to the empty door-frame with dull dread dragging at his feet. He could see the sun shining off the floor in the room beyond but he couldn't see the bed. He remembered the bed had been situated right in front of the door before and now it was nowhere to be seen. Did that mean Merlin was gone? There were no clothes or books visible either. Merlin had always been a bit of a slob within his own chamber. Now there was no sign of a mess. If his bed was gone and Merlin's mess was gone...

He stopped to catch his breath. He rubbed absently at the ache in his chest. He didn't think he could bear to look in that room and find it empty. If he looked and there was no trace of Merlin he knew he'd be unable to cope. He began to slowly back away from the ominously gaping doorway when he heard Merlin's familiar laugh ring out, shattering the silence.

Arthur gasped in shock. That was Merlin! But he was laughing, what on earth could he be laughing at in an empty room. Before he could wonder for too long, he heard that beloved voice calling out with a wistful kind of cheer, inviting whoever was lurking in the outer room to come and visit him. Would he be so blithe when he realized exactly who it was who'd come to see him?

It didn't matter, he needed to see Merlin, regardless of his reception. He took the steps up to the small room quickly and paused under the lintel drinking in the sight of his manservant laying in the bed someone had pushed up against the wall beneath the window. He was propped up on several pillows, right arm in a sling and he was regarding the Prince with an expression of polite curiosity. It was a small shock to see Merlin's usual mop of thick black hair shorn clean off. When he'd last seen him there had been a bandage around his head but his hair still tufted out the top. The boy's wide cornflower-blue eyes were clear and untroubled and his soft sweet lips were curled at the edges in a friendly smile. There was no sign of recognition on his face whatsoever.

While Arthur watched in confusion, Merlin tilted his head slightly to one side and examined his face closely, as if he was looking for something there. Then in a tentative, questioning voice he said the Prince's name in an uncertain fashion, as if he was only guessing at who it was that stood before him. Arthur knew he was gaping like the country bumpkin he always called Merlin but he couldn't help himself. In all his imaginings, he hadn't thought to find his servant happily bolstered up in bed with apparently no recollection of him at all.

In that moment, in that one confusing, unique and hopefully never to be repeated moment, Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot didn't know whether to shit or go blind.

"I'm so sorry, I guess we haven't met before. I thought you looked like the Prince. I know I'm his manservant but I got a bit of a knock to the head and now I can't quite recall the man. Forgive me my mistake. I'm Merlin by the way and you are?"

Arthur continued to gawk at Merlin in stupefied surprise and the boy began to fidget a bit under his incredulous stare.

"Alright. I guess you're looking for Gaius. I'm afraid I can't help you, I'm not allowed out of bed yet. The last time I got up for dinner I wound up back in the big black hole for three days and nearly gave the poor man a seizure of the heart. If you'd rather come back later, I believe he'll be back by noon."

Finally, the blond gave a shake of his head and found his voice again.

"No, you weren't wrong, I am Arthur, I just can't believe you don't remember me."

At this Merlin blushed and looked a bit sheepish.

"I do apologize, my Lord. Ever since I woke up I've been trying and trying to remember you but, well, not too much has come back. I can remember the strangest details about you, like that your favorite breakfast is sausage and crackle-bread with grapes and cheese but I couldn't even quite recall what you looked like!"

He gave Arthur a shy smile that the Prince had never once seen directed at himself before and again, he didn't know how to react. Should he be happy that Merlin couldn't remember him and thus, clearly did not hate him? Or, rather, should he be devastated that all their history had been erased from his friend's mind? They had been through so much in such a short time but not all of it was good. Merlin had definitely come away from their first meeting with a bad impression of Arthur and while the Prince was being honest with himself, he had to accede that the impression hadn't been wrong. Was this a chance for a clean slate?

Weeks passed and it was clear that the slate had indeed been cleaned. So clean in fact nothing of their former relationship seemed to remain. Merlin was polite and though he wasn't exactly diffident, he certainly didn't argue the way he used to. There were none of the sotto voce asides he'd so frequently indulged in and Arthur had so frequently chosen to ignore. There was no more witty repartee and there was still no real recognition in those ocean blue eyes when they lighted on the Prince.

There were no more surreptitious glances while he bathed, no touches that lingered just a half-second too long and no ill concealed gazing from eyes filled with heated want. Merlin's breath didn't hitch when he caught Arthur staring at him, in fact his increasingly pointed looks didn't seem to rouse his manservant's curiosity in the slightest.

In fact, nothing about the Prince got the slightest reaction from this boy who still wore his heart on his sleeve and his thoughts bare on his face for everyone but Arthur. The Prince couldn't help the slow burn of resentment in his chest when he realized that it wasn't the wide world Merlin had forgotten, it was clearly just him. Arthur knew in his heart that he had no right to feel any rancor over Merlin's amnesia. He should in fact be grateful that not only had the boy survived his ordeal but had come out the other side

willing to be anywhere near him. However, the heart wants what it wants even when it hasn't any right to do so.

Strangely. the only remnant of their former relationship was Merlin's insistence on accompanying the Prince everywhere. He was so stubbornly iMerlin/i in those moments that Arthur often argued against his company just to see those flashes of his servant's former self. Eventually, he always conceded because there was nothing in the world he wanted more than Merlin's steady presence at his side. However, once he did it was back to the same strange distance. Merlin hadn't even been this disconnected when they'd first met.

Arthur thought back to the day he'd been released from the dungeon. The relief of knowing Merlin was alive had slowly but surely slid away leaving him hollow when it really settled in that Merlin didn't know him. The hollow feeling became a knife in his gut when Gaius explained that it seemed to be just him and the events of that night that Merlin no longer remembered. The physician went on to detail for him in exacting terms just how close to death Merlin had come before he'd recovered. He spared the young Pendragon none of the particulars of the battle waged to preserve his ward after the brutal assault he'd suffered. The knife in his gut twisted into nausea and the Prince had paled, sweat gathering along his hairline and beading the edge of his lip.

After forcing Arthur to face up to the real consequences of his actions, Gaius explained to him that Merlin's memory loss was not uncommon for patients who had suffered a great and sudden trauma. It was the mind's way of protecting itself. There was the possibility that, in time, Merlin might regain what he'd lost but there was no guarantee of it.

Listening to the old man's pitilessly frank litany of the injuries he'd inflicted on the man he loved had rendered Arthur unable to face Merlin again that day. He'd wandered the castle aimlessly for hours, finally making his way back to his own room and sinking down listlessly onto the bed.

However, being in his own room was worse than being back in the dungeon. Everywhere he'd looked he'd seen Merlin. There wasn't an item in the whole room he couldn't remember seeing those long-fingered hands on. Now it seemed he was alone in all those memories for Merlin had forgotten all. No, not all, just him. He supposed if there really was justice in the world, it was being served him now, in all it's pitiless cold fury.

It was several more weeks before Gaius declared Merlin fit to return to the Prince's service. There had been no further relapses and other than his amnesia, the young mage was almost back to normal. He still suffered from headaches and his shoulder wasn't fully mended and wouldn't be for months but as long as he wasn't doing any heavy lifting, the Physician allowed that he could go back to work.

Arthur had agreed to keep Merlin's workload light. There would be no mucking stables or hauling bathwater. It really wasn't an issue as there were other servants to do those chores (and frankly always had been). Getting the Prince in and out of his chain-mail proved a strain but Merlin refused to be deprived of the duty.

The first few days after his return were the worst for Arthur. It was painful to be treated to Merlin's casually open friendliness. It was the way Merlin treated everyone when he first met them and it hurt in it's off-handed brightness. He felt like a visitor in his own bedchamber.

The truly terrible thing was...it never got better. Merlin never relaxed into any sort of friendship with Arthur, he just continued with an impersonal cheer that wasn't shadowed by even a hint of the snark and sarcasm that so marked their former relations. Months passed this way.

At first, it wore on Arthur's sense of guilt. Facing a blank, distant Merlin just reminded him that he'd done this to the young man. As time continued to roll by and no sense of familiarity entered those deep blue eyes, Arthur began to despair. It seemed Merlin was lost to him forever. Weeks stretched into months and the Prince was able to observe how his servant interacted with everyone but Arthur. He began to become suspicious. Was Merlin just acting? Was this whole "focused memory loss" just a way of punishing him for what he'd done? It seemed to Arthur that if Merlin had merely just forgotten him, then surely after all this time, he'd at least be getting to know him a little. Even if it was from a cold start, there should be something more there than there was.

It was the strangest thing, Arthur never could have imagined it. The boy remembered all sorts of little things like what he liked to eat for breakfast or which tunic was his favorite, he knew exactly how high to make the shine on Arthur's armour and that he liked his wine mulled before bed but never at supper. But when it came to his own person, it seemed as if every day, Merlin was meeting him for the first time in his life.

He'd asked Gaius about it but the old physician had just shrugged and replied that head wounds were unpredictable in their effect on the victim and that no two people ever responded or recovered in the same way.

So it was that frustration began to eat at the Prince's heart and mind. His native impatience began to emerge again and growl at his lack of progress with the object of his affections. Nothing he said or did seemed to make it through to Merlin. He wasn't reaching him and it began to drive him a bit mad. Arthur became increasingly snappish and short with his servant and watched as his biting comments rolled off the young man's back without seeming to make any impression at all. Other people made it through to Merlin, why couldn't he?

The thread of his control was drawing progressively tighter and thinner as his frustration mounted. The thread finally snapped one afternoon when Merlin handed him a carefully sealed missive and stated that Sir Bors had personally delivered it to the Prince's chamber whilst he was away at training. That the knight was well known to favor slim, pretty boys made Arthur instantly suspicious. That Bors also knew precisely where the Prince was when he made his delivery caused a red mist to rise before his eyes.

He tossed the vital missive aside and crowded Merlin close to the fireplace. When the boy brought his hands up in a warding gesture, Arthur grabbed him by both wrists and leaned in close.

"Did he touch you?"

"Wha...what?"

"Did the knave importune you?"

He gave Merlin a shake.

"Tell me!"

If he felt the narrow bones of the boy's wrists grind together he gave no sign and Merlin stared at him in silent incomprehension.

"Did Bors touch you or in any other way solicit your attention when he snuck in here like a fox to the hen house? Answer me, God dammit!"

"N-n-no! P-p-please, you're hurting me!"

Ignoring Merlin's feeble protest, he shook the man one more time.

"You're sure? You aren't covering for him, are you?"

"Why would I do that?"

Merlin looked genuinely confused and with that Arthur was at least satisfied of his servant's innocence, if not of Sir Bors.

"Why won't you remember me?"

The words slipped past Arthur's lips and surprised him as much as they seemed to confuse Merlin.

"I...I don't know? I remember some things...just not...most of you."

"Please, Merlin. I need you to remember me!"

"I can't!"

In desperation, Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips to the younger man's. When there was no response, he pressed harder and pried the full lips apart, forcing his way into Merlin's mouth, as if by doing so he could force his way back into his mind. His fingers tightened convulsively around the wrists they still clung to and he tried to drag Merlin up against his own body but the slender boy was arching away from him instead. Arthur withdrew his mouth and pressed his forehead to Merlin's.

"Remember me!" The demand was low and harsh, uttered in a voice hoarse with frustrated longing. "Merlin, remember me, remember us!"

He released the boy's wrists only to wrap them around his waist and drag him closer, pressing the full aching length of his body against Merlin's long lean figure. His kiss was bruising, hard and angry, containing all his frustrated yearning. Ruthlessly plundering the sweet, hot cavern of Merlin's mouth he groaned at the taste of him, spiced honey, just like he remembered.

It took several minutes for Merlin's distressed keening to penetrate the single-minded fog of bliss obscuring Arthur's thoughts. When it finally did, he also registered the long-fingered hands pushing against his chest, struggling to push him away. Gasping for some control, he loosened his hold on his servant and watched in horror as Merlin burst into tears and fled from him.

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