So, my first Merthur fanfic...I ship these two with the passion of a thousand burning suns, I hope I didn't write them OOC or anything O.o

This was written for the wonderful youre-not-merlin-hmph from tumblr. I hope you like it! :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing *sobs*

Enjoy!

Never Alone

It's cold.

That's the first thing he notices, the freezing wind that makes his teeth chatter. Slowly, he opens his eyes, wincing as they get used to the bright light.

When he can finally see, the sight before him shocks and scares him. It's familiar, very familiar, but not at all comforting.

A square made of white stone, a crowd of people cheering, smiling sinisterly, their hands filled with rotten fruit and vegetables, all of them watching...

Him.

That's when he realizes that he's kneeling, his hands bound together by a thick, rough rope that ties him to a wooden pole. Surrounding him are piles of sticks and hay.

You don't have to be very clever to figure out that he's going to be burned alive.

"People of Camelot!"

The voice brings with it a wave of fear that almost overwhelms him. He recognizes it, of course he recognizes it. But it can't be Him.

No, no, no.

Anyone but Him.

He looks up, his throat dry and knowing that, if he wasn't tied up, he'd be shaking like a leaf. His eyes come to rest on the figure of the King of Camelot, his hair the color of gold, his eyes as blue as the sky, his cloak as red as the blood that he knows will soon stain the white stone floor.

"Arthur..." he whispers, his voice hoarse.

The young Pendragon observes the crowd, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "People of Camelot! The man you see before you shall be burnt at the stake for committing the crime of practicing sorcery in this kingdom!"

The crowd cheer, yelling the name of their beloved sovereign.

"As well as a sorcerer, this man is also many other things," Arthur continues. "A liar, a traitor. For many years he was my manservant. I trusted him, I thought of him as a friend." As he said that last word, he fixed his eyes on the young warlock.

"But he lied and he betrayed us all. He is a sorcerer, and that I cannot, and will not, forgive."

He signals for the guards to light their torches and they do so, eyeing the sorcerer with something akin to hunger in their eyes.

The crowd cheer again, louder this time, and begin throwing the rotten food at him.

Merlin doesn't notice when a tomato hits his shoulder, staining his shirt.

He doesn't notice when three rotten eggs hit the pole, just above his head, the yolk dripping down onto his dark hair.

He doesn't notice when the guards approach him, the torches lit, smoke polluting the air.

His eyes are for Arthur, who looks at him with nothing but hatred. There is no trace of the condescending, arrogant, noble, compassionate Arthur he knows. Before him is a stranger.

The wood and hay catch fire, and it burns.

It's also cold, very cold.

But he doesn't care.

Suddenly, he's gripped with despair. He doesn't understand what's happening. He's afraid, heartbroken and alone.

"ARTHUR!" he yells, tears streaming down his cheeks, the world around him on fire.

"ARTHUR!"

"MERLIN!"

Gaius jumped, almost dropping his bottle of feverfew. With a raised eyebrow, he watched as the young King walked into the room, not looking at all pleased.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Sire?" he asked.

Arthur looked around wildly, as if he was hoping to find his manservant hiding under a table. "Merlin. Where is he?"

Gaius looked puzzled. "I thought he was with you."

"Well, he definitely isn't," Arthur muttered. A sudden thought crossed his mind.

"Did you see him leave his room this morning, Gaius?"

The physician shook his head, sighing when he realized what Arthur was thinking of.

Taking a few long strides, the King made his way to his manservant's bedroom and stopped in front of the door. He raised his hand and knocked very loudly.

There was no answer.

Just as Arthur prepared himself to barge into the room, he heard a whimper, followed by a crash.

He exchanged a quick, surprised look with Gaius before opening the door and stepping inside, freezing when he saw what was going on.

Young Merlin was thrashing wildly on his bed, muttering words under his breath, giving the occasional pained cry and looking very distressed.

"No, no... traitor... never... believe me... please... PLEASE!"

Arthur was completely still for a second and then immediately rushed to his servant's side, his anger forgotten. He felt a small, painful tug somewhere near his heart when he noticed that Merlin was crying.

"Merlin," he whispered, nudging the young man. When he didn't react, he nudged him again, harder. "Merlin! MERLIN!"

His manservant awoke with a yell, looking absolutely terrified.

"Ástrí-" Merlin bit his tongue, holding back the words of the spell when he realized he was in his room.

It had been a nightmare, just a nightmare.

Thinking those words didn't stop the tears that were already rolling down his cheeks, or the violent shaking. He buried his head in his hands, trying to calm down.

Arthur felt very uncomfortable. He'd never been particularly good at comforting people. In fact, once upon a happier time, back when he was twelve years old, Morgana had called him an "insensitive moron".

"Are you alright, Merlin?"

Probably the dumbest question he'd ever asked.

Merlin shook his head.

Feeling extremely awkward, he put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it, Merlin?" he asked, trying to sound gentle.

The warlock sniffed and looked up, shaking his head.

Arthur resisted the urge to wipe the tears from his face, wondering if not eating breakfast had affected his brain in some way. Really, who'd want to caress Merlin?

He cleared his throat. "Well, if you-"

"Can I do something, Arthur?"

The King blinked, confused. Do what? He pursed his lips as he came up with a few possibilities of what he and Merlin could do...

"Ehem. Do what, exactly?"

Merlin didn't reply. Instead, he hugged the King of Camelot.

He hugged him.

Fighting the urge to blush, Arthur hugged him back, trying not to think too much about how perfectly Merlin fit in his arms, how he smelled of herbs, how fragile he felt.

After a few, blissful seconds of this, they broke apart. Merlin looked much better, the spark returning to his eyes, his lips lifted in a faint smile.

Arthur stood up and cleared his throat, not looking at him. "Well, now that you've stopped sobbing like a princess, you can fetch me my breakfast and after that you can muck out the stables, polish my armor, sharpen my swo-"

"Arthur."

He turned to look at his manservant, sky blue eyes meeting dark blue ones.

And Merlin kissed him.

Yaaaaay, cheesy ending!

I thought the first half of this was really easy to write, but God, the second one was hard.

Anyhoo, it's done. Finito.

Reviews are appreciated! :)