Arthur sat at the table in his chambers, trying desperately to reign in the torrent of emotions he was feeling - the letter in his hand shaking with the effort.

"My Dearest Arthur, if you are reading this, then I did not survive my duel with the wraith. I need for you to know that I can think of no better reason to die than to keep you safe. You are more precious to me than anything in this world, more treasured than even Camelot itself. I am deeply saddened to know that you are probably not aware of your importance to me and, had I survived the duel, it was fully in my heart to tell you so myself. But, alas, you are finding out through pen and paper, and there is nothing I regret more than that fact. I am deeply proud of you, my boy, and I have no doubt that you will continue to do me proud in your rule of Camelot.

Sincerely,

Your Father"

How could he have done this to him? Having Gaius drug him… fighting his battle for him… Dying! That last is what caused the hiccupped sob to bubble up from his chest. The letter slipped from his fingers and drifted to the floor as Arthur thrust his fist to his mouth and bit down hard on one knuckle to help force back the deluge threatening to engulf him! He was the Crowned Prince of Camelot! He couldn't allow himself this kind of vulnerability, this kind of weakness. Still biting hard on his knuckle, he slammed his other fist down onto the table. Why wasn't he in control? His father would be so ashamed! His father! And that thought right there was almost his undoing. How was he supposed to live up to his father's expectations of him? He wasn't ready for the responsibility of being king. He wasn't ready for the responsibility of Camelot to be lain on his shoulders. And, most important of all, he wasn't ready to be an orphan!

He heard Merlin come into the room but couldn't order him to leave because that would mean extracting his fist from between his teeth and, right now, that was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. And, if that happened, he wasn't at all sure he would be able to put himself back together again.

"Sire?" Merlin queried softly, as if speaking to a child. Then something must have happened because his volume ratcheted up a notch with a note of alarm. "Arthur!"

The prince had no idea what had Merlin in a tither and, to be quite honest, he didn't quite care. He was finding it hard enough stay composed himself, let alone calming his servant down. He suddenly felt his fist yanked out of the formidable grip of his jaw and clenched his teeth shut, striving to keep the surge of emotion from rising.

"What were you thinking," Merlin demanded, voice still raised in inexplicable panic.

Arthur could feel the younger man's eyes on him but refused to make contact with his own. He vaguely felt something being wrapped around his fist and realized that his teeth must have broken the skin surrounding his knuckles. But realizing it and feeling it were two totally different things.

"Are you all right, sire?"

His servant's voice had flowed down to a whisper of disquiet, once again. Arthur was pretty sure he preferred panic, for the concern had a much better chance of utterly demolishing the defenses he had so diligently erected over the past… few hours? How long has it been since my father died?

"About 12 hours, sire," Merlin informed him softly.

Oh, he hadn't realized he'd asked that question aloud.

"Have you been sitting here like this all night?"

Instead of answering, Arthur stared down at the now blood soaked rag and cocked his head to one side in wonder, curious as to how he could be feeling so much and yet so little at the same time. So close to breaking on the inside and so numb on the out. His curiosity was quickly extinguished however by the threat of another sob expanding in his chest.

He surged to his feet and stalked over toward the window, yearning for some distance between himself and Merlin. Not quite comprehending why, but craving it just the same. His need for solitude seemed not meant to be, however, as he heard Merlin pick the letter up off the floor, imagined him quickly reading it, then felt him step closer, stopping only a few feet from Arthur's back.

"Sire."

The word sounded so incredibly mournful that Arthur had to bite down on the inside of his cheek this time, barely holding back the flood which was now so close to the surface.

"Arthur," Merlin tried next, placing his hand on the slope of Arthur's shoulder.

The contact was akin to an electric shock and Arthur flinched out from under it, knowing without a doubt that any form of comfort would be his downfall! He backed away from the window and, more importantly, Merlin. But his servant, stubborn as ever, merely followed. Arthur felt the undeniable urge to bolt out of the room like a child. He fought the impulse, however, determined to stand and face this like a man. Like a Knight. Like the Crowned Prince of Camelot.

Merlin stepped even closer to him. So close, in fact, that Arthur's downward gaze could see the toes of their boots almost touching.

"Arthur," Merlin said once again, this time more in plea than anything else.

He could do this. Merlin was just his servant, after all. All he had to do was look him in the eye and order him to leave. Easy. Simple. Taking a fortifying breath and gritting his teeth, Arthur raised his head and made eye contact with said servant. Apparently, he should have taken into account that Merlin was not merely a servant but a friend. Possibly Arthur's closest friend. His only true friend. He would kick himself later for not considering that all important fact because as soon as their eyes met, as soon as he witnessed firsthand the massive amount of concern in his young friend's gaze, the tears welled up from their well-fortified refuge. His planned words 'Leave me' found themselves stuck in his throat.

This time, Merlin placed a hand on each of his shoulders, effectively stopping any kind of escape. Though, Arthur knew he could easily overpower Merlin in physical strength, he had absolutely nothing to stand up against the brotherly love so apparent in his servant's – his friend's – countenance. But, for some reason, Arthur couldn't bring himself to look away. Their gazes were seemingly locked together. Which was why Merlin had no trouble seeing the tears fill his eyes, then slip unhindered down his cheeks. Arthur felt himself flush with embarrassment and shame.

"It's okay, sire," Merlin whispered, being sure to use the title of respect. "It's just you and me, here. If I tell anyone, you can easily make my life miserable, remember?" He sealed the statement with a sad smile to try to ease his master's obvious discomfort at showing this kind of vulnerability. And it seemed to work, as Arthur's defenses started to crumble. Merlin watched, his own heart breaking, as Arthur fought valiantly to hold back the sobs even as the tears continued to roll down his face.

Not knowing what else to do, Merlin pulled him gently forward and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and back, moving one hand up to cup the back of his head. He felt Arthur double over a bit with his effort, one arm wrapped around his middle, causing Merlin to stoop a little to keep him in his embrace.

"Stop fighting it, Arthur," he whispered into his friend's hair. "Just for once… stop fighting."

Finally, the first real sob broke free. Then another. And another. Merlin's embrace tightened, holding Arthur even closer against his chest. When the prince's knees buckled, Merlin lowered them both to the floor, doing his best to slow Arthur's descent, ending up with one leg on either side of his friend's trembling form.

They sat that way for several minutes, Arthur curled up against Merlin's chest and stomach, until his grief ran dry for the time being and his exhaustion slowly took over. Before long, Merlin felt his friend lean more heavily against him and knew that he had finally succumbed to sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gently raked his hand through the dirty blond hair and whispered, "Clot pole."

THE END

A/N Thoughts? Reviews are like chocolate! XD