-Chapter 6-

Merlin was getting worse. He knew it, even though Gaius hadn't said a word. Pitiful looks of sadness and regret flickered over the physicians scraggly face. The warlock was certain that there were even more lines etching Gaius's face (especially around the mouth and eyes). Gwen was way too perky. She was actually almost hyperactive. Morgana was the only one who treated him normally.

"You know, Merlin, Arthur's being a giant ass right now," Morgana said as she sat down on the edge of the warlock's bed, "The poor servant, George, is being worked twice as hard and for twice as long. I think Arthur has forgotten that there are only twenty-four hours in the day. The only thing that sweetens the deal is that George is driving Arthur crazy with jokes about brass." Merlin frowned. "How can even make a joke about...brass?" Merlin asked.

"Honestly, I don't know." Morgana said. She stood and straightened her dress. "Well, I have duties to attend to. Feel better soon. Someone needs to kick some of the prat out of Arthur. If you don't, I will." Merlin grinned and shook his head. "Whatever you say, Morgana. I'll see you later," he said, watching as Morgana rose up and left the room.

The conversation actually made him feel a little better. Maybe he should try getting up. He didn't plan to go far - just to the main area of the house.

Slowly, he sat up. Merlin moaned and grabbed at his temples. A wave of dizziness and nausea had hit him like a wave and while it had seemed crippling for a moment, it slowly passed. Swinging his legs over the bed, he eased from the mattress. Wavering on the spot, Merlin steadied himself.

With sluggish steps, he made his way downstairs, where Gaius was cooking dinner. "It smells good," Merlin commented, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to eat much of it. Gaius turned. He looked surprised to see him up." Shouldn't you be resting?" he asked.

"It's all I do! I'm sick of it. If I only have a few weeks left I want to enjoy it," snapped Merlin. His gaze hardened as he balled his hands into fists. "And you're not going to stop me!" Because of his annoyance, his powers malfunctioned. The fire in the fireplace roared and grew taller.

"Calm down, boy," shouted the man

Sighing, Merlin unfurled his fingers. As he calmed, the fire went down. "I'm sorry," whispered Merlin, hanging his head. "I didn't mean too..." Gaius put his spoon down and went over to the sickly boy. "I know. I know," he said, hugging Merlin. There was no hint of anger in the physician's voice; it was only filled with concern for the boy.

The physician hugged Merlin as if life depended on it. Aged hands rubbed small comforting circles on the boy's back. Gently he led Merlin to the nearest chair, helping him to sit down before grabbing another chair and bringing it over so he too could sit down right beside the warlock.

Merlin let himself be comforted by Gaius, but only for a minute. He wrapped his fingers around the physician's robes and hugged the man in return. The warlock felt a thickness and heaviness come into his throat. Tears burned the corners of his eyes, but he didn't let them fell. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Crying seemed like a step beyond giving up.

"I know this must be very hard for you Merlin," Gaius began, studying the warlock who was sitting beside him, "I really can't imagine what you must be feeling and going through. I promise you that I will never give up on you, I will keep searching until I find something that can help you, but I need you to trust me too." Gaius said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You don't understand! How could you? Gaius, I'm dying. Every day, I am closer and closer to ceasing to exist. This isn't how it's supposed to be! I'm supposed to help Arthur create Albion. How can I do it when my ashes'll be fluttering through the wind?" Merlin replied.

He sighed in annoyance as he stared at the fire. "There's got to be a way to help me. I don't want to die, Gaius. I don't. What about the druids? They could cure me, couldn't they?" he asked. "And what about Kilgharrah. He could cure me, maybe…or fry me to a crisp."

Merlin held his head. All of this thinking was making it hurt. "What about you? You used to do magic, didn't you," he asked. "Uther let you use it on Arthur when he was dying. Can't you use it on me and we just not tell him?"

MERLINMERLINMERLIN

Prince Arthur rubbed his scraggly beard as he sat in the tub. George had poured him a bath, making the temperature of the water absolutely perfect. In thanks, Arthur had done little more than dismiss the man with a full load of dirty laundry in his hands.

Arthur hadn't slept well for the past few days; he couldn't even remember what a full night's sleep was anymore. He was worried about Merlin, so much so that without even realizing it he had become what he abhorred; an arrogant ass of a man whose attitude would even put King Uther to shame.

He grasped his hands tightly, keeping them under the water. He squeezed hard, feeling the muscles and tendons pop because of the pressure. Arthur was doing this because he felt so helpless. The one thing that Merlin needed was the one thing the Prince could not offer; magic. It had pained him greatly to say no because he didn't want to lose his best friend whom he thought the world of but Arthur had a duty to protect Camelot and its people. He hated the fact that he had had to choose between them, but Camelot came first; it had to.

George returned promptly fifteen minutes later with a stack of clothes. "Sire, it's time to get dressed," said the servant. He practically pulled Arthur out of the tub and scrubbed him dry. He worked so vigorously, that Arthur's arms, legs and chest were bright pink.

"I have your clothes ready for the flower show," he said. "Arms up." George yanked both of the Prince's arms up over his head as he shoved a cream-colored silk shirt down. Lowering the man's arms, he slipped Arthur into the green trousers. Taking a cloth out of his pocket, he began to polish the buckle of the belt. With it gleaming, George slipped it around Arthur's waist.

"Did I tell you how the kings reaction to the brass egg who was dropped off a citadel? No?" the man said. "He was hard boiled to find the perpetrator." George chuckled as he synched the belt around Arthur's waist.

Arthur seemed to be in a world of his own. So much so that he offered little protest to being pulled out of the warm water and toweled dry. He wasn't really listening to George anyway. Why should he? The man was seriously boring and then there were his stupid jokes about brass! Really there was only so much a person could take before they simply stopped listening.

"Yes George that's very amusing," The Prince began in a tone of voice that suggested he was anything but amused, "but if you ever mention brass or eggs again in the same sentence I'll have your tongue cut out."

Under normal circumstances Arthur would have never said that to anyone but this was not a normal circumstance. He was fed up with everything; fed up with being helpless, fed up with Merlin being sick…just fed up with the whole God damn mess in general!

More than once he had contemplated taking the evening dinner knife and slashing his wrists if only to end it all but as of yet he had never done it. For a man who was courageous enough to fight battles, when it came to killing himself he was downright terrified. Arthur knew it was his destiny to rule Camelot but he couldn't do that without his friend. He couldn't explain why that was, only that he knew he couldn't.

Camelot comes first; he remembered saying that in the past; remembered meaning it as well but now as he stood there in his chambers he felt like he couldn't do it; could rule the kingdom that he loved without his friend being there. It was a little strange how attached to Merlin the Prince was, but Arthur was very attached which was why everything had hit him as hard as it had.

Tired, pain filled eyes suddenly focused on George who looked nervous and scared. It took the Prince a moment to figure out why that was but when it came to him Arthur sucked in a deep breath.

He knew he should apologize to the younger man but Arthur couldn't bring himself to do so because he had meant every word that he had spoken.

"Get out and leave me be." He ordered.

George frowned at his master. He sure was acting off. First the King banned him from saying anything about brass and eggs in the same sentence and now telling him to leave. Oh, the injustice of it all! However, he did not protest. Instead, George bowed.

"Very well, sire. I will come get you when it is time for the flower show. Oh, I just remembered! Your father wished for you to have riding lessons after that as well as a short jousting practice," he informed the Prince. Bowing a second time, George left.

Soon after, Morgana came into the room. "George seemed flustered. What did you do to him, Arthur? Did you threaten to get rid of all the brass in the Kingdom? What would that man talk about if you did that, she asked.

The woman sat down in a chair and grabbed a grape. Popping it into her mouth, she chewed and swallowed. "He's scared, Arthur. He hasn't said it, but he's scared," Morgana said. "We've got to do something for him! He doesn't deserve to die. What if we took him to the druids or something? They aren't in Camelot after all and wouldn't be punished for their deed. They could help. I'm sure not all of them are bad people."

Morgana sighed and leaned forward. "Arthur are those grapes bad," she asked. "I would have thought George would get you fresh ones every day, but these seem to have unsettled my stomach," she said.

Arthur had gone to the window and was looking out of it when George had left. He had remained at the window, still wordlessly staring out of it when Morgana entered the room and started talking and helping herself to the bowl of five day old red grapes.

"Morgana," the Prince finally began as he turned away from the window to look at her, "those grapes are five days old. Eating them would turn anyone's stomach."

Morgana frowned as she shook her head. "Why did you keep them if they are five days old? Do they have something to do with Merlin?" she demanded. "That's disgusting. I thought I smelled wine when I entered. I just assumed you had thrown the decanter at George and the contents sprayed the curtains."

He said nothing about Merlin or the Druids. Of course the warlock had to be scared. Who wouldn't be in his condition? More than anything the Prince wanted Merlin to get well but at what cost? If Uther were to find out that magic was used in Camelot he would stop at nothing to find out who had done it and have them killed and while Arthur wasn't too worried about himself he didn't want to cost a person their life…even though that's what he was basically doing to his friend.

Finally Arthur bit the inside of his cheek. Morgana was waiting on an answer to her statement. "The Druids are not an easy people to find. If they were my father would have wiped them all out long ago. Most of them wouldn't even trust me or my father because of what he did to them. What makes you think they would be willing to help?"

Arthur didn't mention Mordred. Sure he had helped the boy get back to his people and that had probably earned him a little bit of leeway with the Druids but surely not all of them were on friendly terms with the Pendragons.

"You're right, Arthur. Story goes that they only are found if needed. I've also heard they are in possession of the cup of life," Morgana said. "You might never find them, but it wouldn't hurt…would it? You're not afraid of a difficult task, are you? Merlin would find them for you. You know that and I know that."

She shrugged. "They help those who need it. Merlin needs it. They might not trust you, but why would they not trust Merlin? He's done nothing to them. I would bet he would help them if he could," she said.

"I would hate that we gave up an opportunity to help our friend. I don't care what he consequences are. In fact, I damn them! Merlin doesn't deserve to die, Arthur. I don't care what Uther thinks. He's a fool," Morgana spat.

Arthur was silent. The Cup of Life. Why didn't he think of that before? Yes, the Cup could save Merlin, all he had to do was find it, fill it and then have the boy drink from it. Merlin would be cured in no time at all! Of course he knew that for a life to be given one had to be taken. In his heart the Prince knew he would be more than willing to die for the life of his servant.

"If the Druids have the Cup of Life...then I must find them." Arthur murmured.

Even as he was speaking Morgana had this strange look on her face. She smacked her lips a little, a strange dryness settling in her throat as if she hadn't had any water for years. Morgana felt her cheeks burn and then grow cold. What was going on? A moment ago she felt fine; maybe a little sick from eating that disgusting grape but now she felt weird, almost as if she was going to pass out.

"Arthur..." she murmured under her breath.
The Prince turned his attention back to her just as she fell to the ground. As darkness closed in around her vision she barely heard her name cross Arthur's lips.

"Morgana...!"