Yay new Merlin fanfiction! As usual no slash only very strong romance and friendship.

Although he would never in a thousand years admit it, Arthur was worried. Well, worried probably wasn't the right word. That implied he felt something akin to friendship for his servant, that he was worried about his well-being. Worried meant that he cared for his servant and couldn't stand it if something happened to him. Which was most definitely not the case. Concerned was a better word. It was a casual word, meant for people you met in passing, for people you cared about, but it was only a shallow caring about the effect their issues had on you. It was a word meant for a servant. But when was Merlin just a servant?

Even before Arthur knew him as well as he did he knew that Merlin was different than everyone and anyone he had ever met. Merlin was caring, and so bloody stubborn. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind, especially in front of his king. And Arthur was grateful. No, grateful was the wrong word. Arthur depended on Merlin's words of comfort and wisdom, even if he didn't quite understand their meaning. So concerned was not the word for what Arthur was feeling for Merlin right now. No, the word was scared. Arthur was terrified actually. He felt the fear in his very bones, in his soul. He felt it clamping down on his heart, drowning out hope and reason and happiness. He felt it worm itself into his brain, touching all his thoughts and emotions until everything was just fear. Fear for his servant. No, fear for his friend. But even that wasn't the right word. Fear for his brother.

Arthur knew that his servant…okay friend, was secretive. Merlin was maybe the most secretive person the king had ever met. The constant furtive looks Merlin liked to give whenever they were anywhere, and the small frowns when he thought no one was looking, and the hunched way he walked, like he was afraid that if he stood up too straight he would be noticed and all his secrets would just tumble out of his mouth, and the quick way he answered questions that were too inquiring, and the way he would always blame everything on his clumsiness. It was frustrating really. And he knew that Merlin wasn't naturally a klutz. He saw many instances when Merlin's instincts and reactions rivaled his own. Like when Merlin luckily blocked the knife aimed for his throat by catching it, thereby saving the life of Camelot's king. Or when Merlin dodged twenty mercenaries in the woods simply by relying on falling branches or timely trips and tumbles by the enemy or sheer dumb luck. Or the time when Merlin outran the boar Arthur was trying to kill, effectively letting it go before it could die at the hands of the king. Which was impressive, but annoying because he had to return to Camelot empty handed because his servant was "clumsy." Or the time when he successfully knocked out the 10 foot tall man with one lucky hit of a piece of wood. Things just seemed to happen when Merlin was around. Branches fell on the man sneaking up behind someone's back just in time to save a life. Burly men weighing ten tons would suddenly trip and fall over their own feet, the air, or even their swords (which was a personal favorite of Arthur's). Arthur didn't really know what to make of it. Maybe Merlin was just a luck magnet or something. Maybe he had a lucky rabbit's foot that was really damn lucky. Or maybe Merlin was a really unlucky child and karma was making it up to him. Either way, Arthur was glad for Merlin's attraction to luck. It had certainly saved his hide more than once.

Which was why he needed to get to the bottom of things right now. Because it seemed all Merlin's good luck was starting to take a toll on him. Every single good thing that happened in Merlin's presence just put him in an even worse mood. Instead of cheering when the assassin stabbed himself with his own poisoned knife, Merlin just glowered at the floor, like it had personally wronged him somehow. Instead of rejoicing when Arthur just managed to reach his sword in time to kill the sorcerer that had threatened to kill everyone in Camelot, Merlin had looked like he was going to cry. And Arthur hated it when Merlin looked like he was going to cry. Because he looked like a kicked puppy. And that made Arthur feel guilty, like he was the one who made Merlin feel like this.

Arthur didn't understand it. Merlin should be happy they hadn't had a bandit attack in over six months. He should be happy they hadn't had to wage war on a neighboring kingdom because of a botched peace treaty that was actually the work of an evil sorcerer who just wanted someone to employ his army of super-soldiers. He should be happy he hadn't had to receive the brunt of Arthur's anger over treasons, traitors and treaties. But he wasn't. Merlin wasn't happy. That in itself was odd, because Merlin was always cheerful, ready with a quick joke or smirk to lift Arthur's spirits. But it was because of the unusual circumstances that surrounded Merlin's melancholy mood that made Arthur terrified.

He had been noticing Merlin's lack of a dopey smile for a while. The comebacks he made when Arthur made fun of him weren't half as funny as they used to be. Sometimes he didn't even try. He just gave a weak smile and shrugged his shoulders, as if he was agreeing with whatever insult Arthur had used that time. And that scared Arthur. Because Merlin seemed like he really believed everything Arthur told him. And although Merlin was a little clumsy and a bit forgetful and sometimes acted like a girl's petticoat, he most certainly was the bravest man Arthur had ever known. And when Arthur called him a loser, or a coward, he was really saying the exact opposite, and he thought Merlin knew that. But now it seemed like Merlin was starting to think he was a coward. And he wasn't throwing insults back at Arthur either. That was a problem as well. Because Merlin was the only one who could pop his ego, and without him Arthur was afraid he would turn back into the arrogant prince he used to be. So Arthur had started insulting Merlin even more than normal. He pulled out all the plugs on made up words, condescending tones, emphasized syllables (which he knew Merlin hated), and even boring chores and hard tasks. But Merlin didn't react to anything. He just went along with whatever Arthur threw at him. Literally. He didn't even flinch when Arthur threw his goblet at him in a moment of weakness when he just wanted something from the boy. It was worrying.

Arthur didn't know what else he could do. He certainly wasn't going to talk to Merlin about it. That would be mortifying. For him and Merlin, who would probably break down with all the pent up tension that he wouldn't release, no matter how many outlets Arthur provided. Everything Arthur did, seemed to make it worse for Merlin. He just got sadder and sadder. He wasn't even hiding his frowns and watery eyes that were sure to overflow at any time. But the climax happened one fateful morning that Arthur would never forget as long as he lived.

Merlin hadn't come in to wake Arthur up that morning. Arthur hadn't really been looking forward to Merlin's customary statement ("Up and at 'em!"), but he sort of enjoyed their playful banter in the morning. That morning though, there was no insanely cheerful, annoying wake up call. Instead he had been fearfully woken up by a shaking servant who looked ready to bolt if Arthur so much as looked at him. Arthur was confused for a second, then concerned, then worried, then scared, then terrified. So he threw his clothing on, nearly made the poor servant wet his pants when he yelled at the poor lad to leave him be, almost forgot his belt because Merlin was usually the one who made him remember it with a pointed remark about the number of holes in it, scarfed some breakfast down and promptly choked on it because Merlin was the one who made sure he sat down and didn't kill himself trying to eat too fast, and ran out the door. At the moment, he was sort of worried about himself. What was he doing, running after a wayward servant? Maybe he was just helping Gaius, and forgot to tell Arthur he would be late. Or maybe he had just overslept and was currently still in dreamland, in no danger at all. Or maybe he was just running late in the kitchens, chatting with the maids down there who seemed to love him and his quirky ears. Or maybe he was teaching Arthur a lesson, and purposefully was late so he would let Arthur see how much he needed Merlin. But deep down Arthur knew none of these fantasies were true. Looking back, he was glad he acted on his gut instinct. He wasn't sure what would have happened if he hadn't.

Dashing through the hallways of the castle, he turned a corner and almost ran into a poor servant who looked shocked at the worry and fear on her king's face. She opened her mouth to ask him if he was alright, but he was already running again, shouting a "sorry" over his back.

Somehow Arthur knew that he wouldn't find Merlin at the physician's chambers. He didn't take a closer look at that strange feeling, he just went with it. As he ran, he remembered an offhand remark Merlin had made the other day in response to the insult Arthur had thrown at him about the laundry. Merlin had said "I wonder if people remember how it feels to not exist." Arthur had paid no attention to it, mostly because it made no sense at the time, and it had nothing to do with the laundry that had to be done. But now Arthur understood. Merlin wanted to remember how it felt to not exist.

Finally Arthur reached the tallest spire of the castle, Merlin's favorite place to hide from his chores. Somehow he knew he would find Merlin at the top. But he didn't expect Merlin to be huddled on the roof with his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, head in his lap, looking like a lost child who had gotten separated from his parents; wondering if he were ever going to be found again. Arthur didn't really understand why Merlin had chosen that position to sit in, until he realized that Merlin didn't know if he was ever going to be found. Merlin was so scared, and he just wanted someone to notice how lost he really was. Merlin was exactly like a lost child who had gotten separated from his parents, from everything safe and comforting, ignored and unremembered, without any hope that he would find his way home. Arthur wanted to help Merlin get back home, where he was safe and remembered and noticed.

Arthur slowly inched towards Merlin, afraid of making any sudden movements that would spook Merlin and cause him to vault himself over the edge of the roof. Eventually Merlin took notice of the presence he felt behind him, and peered up at Arthur. The look on his face broke Arthur's heart. Merlin's eyes were dead and dull, tear tracks marking his cheeks. There was no emotion in his expression, no life behind his eyes. It was as if he had chosen to simply stop feeling. Merlin had achieved it; he knew what it felt like to not exist. Arthur's breath caught in his throat; he had no idea Merlin had felt like this for so long. He berated himself for not noticing sooner. He could have saved Merlin all this heartache if he had just paid attention, or done something about it, or talked about it with Merlin. Because friends help each other. And he had failed to help Merlin when he needed it most. Arthur had failed his friend, thereby failing himself. He grabbed Merlin's hand and pulled him up along the king. Then he did something that he would later feel embarrassed about, but at the moment knew that Merlin needed comfort. So Arthur hugged his friend. And at that moment, Merlin's dam broke.

All of the pent up frustration he had been burying for the past couple of weeks was released. His thin shoulders shook with the effort of trying to stay quiet and unnoticed, but Arthur didn't care about it at the moment. He rubbed Merlin's back and whispered soothing words in his ears, willing Merlin to just let go. And he did. Merlin screamed at the top of his lungs, and it was such a heartbreaking sound, full of anguish and so much suffering that had been endured for so long. It spoke of fallen friends, lost battles, broken hearts, nights spent crying himself to sleep, nights when he didn't sleep at all, days when it was all he could do to just stay standing because sometimes his destiny hurt so bad he couldn't keep it inside. It spoke of hardships faced alone, without a friend to lean on. It spoke of hidden truths and hurtful secrets that he just couldn't keep to himself any more. It was the scream of someone who had all but given up on everything. The scream of someone who had lost all hope and faith in the world, and knew the ugly face of reality that lurked behind the pretty lies and half-truths of faraway fantasies. But Merlin knew he was the worst culprit of it all. He was the best secret keeper of them all, and his pretty lies and half-truths had touched everyone. He had intertwined everyone's lives with them so tightly, he wasn't sure if he could unravel all the lies and get to the truth underneath. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to. But at that moment, he was glad for Arthur being there, provided the much-needed comfort he had been deprived of for so long. And even though Arthur didn't know the whole truth, or why his friend had been about to jump off the castle wall, or why Merlin was so upset lately, he knew Merlin would tell him when he was ready. And Arthur would be there for his friend just like he knew Merlin was always there for him.