CHAPTER 1 : WHAT YOU FEAR, YOU HATE

He hated himself. He felt guilty and he was embarrassed by his own reactions. He had pulled back from his best friend. He knew why, he knew it was because he was scared of the final outcome. He was scared of death.

I shouldn't have to face this, I'm young and healthy. I have my whole live ahead of me. It's not my fault, I'm not ready for this.

Death in the young is cruel, horrendous and mind defying. Why now?

I can't do it, I shouldn't have to. Nobody needs me to be involved. He's just someone I know. I don't really love him... His heart rebelled at this last thought. It fought to be heard but he squelched it, putting it down as you might a battle-injured horse, horrendous but knowing it was the right thing to do.

His mind was in full speed forward but his heart was like a heavy anchor, desperately striving to find a fast hold. Trying to overcome his runaway emotions and re-install the broken circuit that was causing him so much grief. He fought it all the way.

He felt that he was being turned inside out. All his emotions on view to anyone interested but who would care about him. His life was insignificant to those, who knew of this impending tragedy.

He needed to go to work... He balanced the breakfast platter and with a heavy heart, opened the door, glancing quickly at the sleeping person. He crossed the room and opened the curtains, not a word passed his lips. His master stirred and the servant cleared his throat, wakening him fully. He turned to get his dressing gown. Nothing was said.

The guilt, like acid was burning a hole in his heart. These face to face, non-verbal conversations were more than he could take. He had to be cold and uncaring if he were going to survive. He hated himself but he was strong, he could do it.

He held the dressing gown while the man put his arms through the sleeves. He moved in front of him, keeping his eyes downcast, putting his arms around him, the desire to give him a hug was overpowering but he just grasped the belt at the belt loops, tying it loosely. He knelt in front of him slipping on his house shoes.

Not a word was exchanged.

He stood aside and the man walked slowly to the table and sat down. His servant realised that when the man was upset as he now was, he looked older than his years.

Glancing at the man sitting with downcast eyes, he successfully kept his thoughts and words to himself. It was killing him, his heart was spiralling giving the most uncomfortable feelings to his body. He closed his eyes to regain control...

"Is it my fault, Merlin? "

His heart screamed, ' Yes...because you're sick and I am scared.'

"Did I say something to insult you?"

His mind screamed, '...you will die and leave me alone.'

"Tell me!" the man pleaded, "Whatever has happened was unintentional. I wouldn't purposely hurt you. What have I done? Please, I can't go on with this silent treatment. I want to hear your voice." A slight hitch in the cadence of his words betrayed his inner feelings, "Even if you insult me or yell at me, I'll accept it more readily that the silence between us...

This isn't like you, I'm sorry if I have done something so awful to merit it. I can't ask for forgiveness until you tell me what happened." His head was bowed low, his shoulders shaking, Merlin knew he was crying. He sniffed and Merlin heard him whisper, "Someone, stop this, it's killing me!"

Merlin's heart and his mind were fighting to gain control. He wanted to let his heart win so that he could cross the room and envelope the man in his arms, holding him close to his victorious heart. So close to confessing his fears, tears so close to flooding down his face, Merlin turned his back on the person he really loved. He realised, that of all the situations they had faced together, and there had been many, this was the worst.

"I can't face what's going to happen without you. Am I being selfish and non-thinking to hope that you will help me? The day will come when I will have no one with me but you..."

Merlin's mind screamed, 'Yes, and then you will go and I will have no one...' He felt that if he could only tell him face to face, he might help him solve this awful dilemma. How could you tell a person with a chronic condition that you were feeling more fearful than he was? Even, he could see that that made absolutely no sense. He almost forgot, that he was no longer speaking, so he bit his tongue.

Eyes cast down, he left the room.

Once into the corridor, he leaned against the wall and cried. He knew that walking out on him at this time, was the most despicable thing he had ever considered and against his better judgment. Yet he realised, that he would, because he was weak, frightened and unbelievably unsure of himself.

Later, when he knew the Prince would be in the Council Room with the king and his advisors, he returned to the chambers and tidied up, putting away the clothes. He would really have to make arrangements to leave. His job here was finished and a new manservant must be assigned to the Prince.

He looked at the clothes in the cupboard, the red cloak with the embroidered applique of a gold dragon. He held it to his face and smelled deeply, he could smell horse where it had lain on the destrier's hindquarters; ...the drawers with gloves, belts and personal items; ...the neatly folded tunics, doublets and pants, everyday wear and ceremonial. His life revolved around these clothes and the person who wore them.

He went back into the antechamber, to check on bath and bed linens. His eyes glanced at the line of boots.

The sheets had lavender springs in between them. He lowered his head and took a deep breath, lavender, a scent that he will forever associate with this job. He also loved the smell of linaments, the oils, the soaps and freshly dried garments. The smell of the stables, the scents in Gaius's chambers, his senses were being forced alive...

He sat on the unmade bed, finally curling on his side and cried for both of them. His senses were being bombarded...with the scents of the Prince himself.

He remained distant until the Prince asked him what he wanted to do that afternoon. That was not the way it was to be. He'd shrugged, he remembered the Prince's quizzical look but had ignored it. Then he remembered all the fun things they'd done together and the Prince seeing him relax had leaned towards him, putting his arm across his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. The electricity that surged through him was almost lethal. There was something about his touching him that short circuited his brain. He forgot his decisions and he had gone along with him and they'd had an almost normal day together.

Nevertheless, it was to be their last as far as he was concerned... He stopped as his love for this man tried to surface; his heart rejoiced and his mind quickly enclosed it with a solid wall.

From now on, he was not going to let his heart rule his life...

Right or wrong, his head would rule his heart!

The following morning, he would stay in bed. He had made all the necessary arrangements, there would be another manservant. He would tell Gaius that the Prince had suggested that he visit his mother.

Merlin knew he was now totally separated from the Prince in body and mind.

Merlin had yet to realise that he was not separated in heart and soul...