Anything

Summary: "You would do anything to save her?" Arthur didn't realize that Merlin had a different definition of the word anything. A reveal fic. No slash. One shot. A/G. Set after series three.

Disclaimer: Sorry to disappoint all of you, but, no, I don't own Merlin. I'm just borrowing the characters.

Note: Partially inspired by that fantastic fic Healing Spells by BeyondTheStorm. (the spell's basic concept.)

Warning: Character Death. T for mentions of violence.

Enjoy.

When Arthur had announced his engagement to the former-servant Guinevere, he had expected some amount of resistance, but certainly nothing like this.

Nothing like a staged attack on his fiancée as they rode through the woods with two of most faithful knights (and Merlin, of course, but no one very often mentioned him). Nothing like not being strong enough, brave enough, fast enough, good enough to protect her. Nothing like her lying on the patchwork forest floor, with red blood pouring from her abdomen. Nothing like a dark, bloody arrow lying beside her from where Merlin (the only one who knew something about treating wounds like this) had pulled it out of her soft, bleeding, body. Nothing like this all-consuming maelstrom of emotion so desperate to escape him, but unable to as he sat transfixed at her side.

"You can't die," he said, one hand curling in her hair, the other pressed against the flow of blood, trying vainly to stop it, "You can't," he looked up to Merlin, "You have to do something! Surely, Gaius must have taught you something about situations like this."

But the expression on his manservant's face told him quite plainly what the physician had told him about this. There was nothing to be done. The younger man was crying freely and it wasn't until Arthur felt something salty slide into his mouth that he realized he was as well. Gwen was breathing some words now, some urgent message, so he leaned down so that her faint breath tickled his ear.

"I love you."

Arthur couldn't bring himself to reply. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but watch as she took shallower, shakier breaths. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he listened to her breaths until he heard his name from somewhere beyond the small cocoon that had encased he and his fiancée. He looked up to see Merlin kneeling on Gwen's other side, with a look of determination that Arthur should have recognized from the incident following the one with the questing beast.

"What you be willing to do to save her?"

"Anything."

Arthur had expected that to be the end of it.

"You would do anything to save her?"

"Yes."

"Back up."

Arthur would have (should have?) refused, but some strange fire in his servant's eyes convinced him to do otherwise. He scooted backwards on his knees, to watch the other boy (man?) place his palms flat on the wound.

"What are you—"

"After it's all done, ask Gaius. He'll explain it."

Before Arthur could try and understand what those words meant, Merlin was bending low over Gwen and murmuring a long string of words in a language Arthur didn't recognize. It wasn't until he saw the gold swirling in his eyes and the light flowing from his hands that Arthur realized what was happening.

"Magic," he growled, reaching for his sword, but two strong arms had grabbed his from behind. Lancelot.

"Let me go!" Arthur said furiously, struggling to break free, "He is using magic!"

Merlin had still not responded, his lips moving as he incanted.

"No," came Lancelot's voice in his ear, "Wait. Watch."

The light flowing from Merlin's hands, blue and silvery and gentle, was breaking apart into spidery tendrils and…Arthur's eyes widened in wonder even as he stopped struggling.

Merlin's magic (those two words together was something Arthur was trying to get used to) was closing up Gwen's wound.

Color was returning to her cheeks and her breathing deepened and steadied. What Arthur didn't notice was that even as her wound became nothing more thin scar, there was a steadily growing patch of dark red on Merlin's own stomach. But Gwaine did.

"Merlin, no!"

The light died away, and Merlin lifted his hands from Gwen's stomach and wiped the blood onto his trousers. He grinned shakily at Arthur, looking paler and frailer than his master had ever seen him.

"You said you would do anything."

Then he collapsed beside the very much alive Guinevere, and Arthur realized what his friend had done.

Gwaine was beside Merlin in seconds; Arthur followed.

"Why did you do that?" Gwaine asked desperately, and Arthur saw, for the first time, just how much this knight relied on a servant's friendship; the only friend he had.

"More important," said Merlin hoarsely, and those two words told Arthur the other man's whole train of thought.

Guinevere was more important. She and Arthur's happiness was more important, more important than anything. More important than his own life.

Kneeling down beside this man who had saved him and Guinevere (how many times?), Arthur was struck by the injustice of it all. He couldn't have born losing his love, but watching his serv-…his friend's life fade away before him…

Those tears, which had stopped on seeing Guinevere's wound closing had returned with a vengeance.

"I didn't mean you could do this, idiot," he said to Merlin through a half-sob, "This isn't included in the anything…you…"

"Only healing spell I knew," Merlin explained feebly; as if that was enough.

Arthur roughly wiped away his tears, not wanting his last time seeing his friend's (best friend's?) face to be so blurry.

"I'm happy to be your servant til' the day I die."*

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Arthur whispered hoarsely, one hand unconsciously going to Merlin's shoulder in an attempt to grasp the life draining away, "You were supposed to be there."

The when I became king was unspoken. Arthur was no longer able to imagine being king without the bumbling idiot, (sorcerer his mind reminded him) there to break things and tell his children embarrassing stories.

"What did I tell you?" said Gwaine, "No noble is worth dying for."

"Sorry," Merlin muttered back; his voice was softer now, nothing like his normal babble.

"Don't ever be sorry," Arthur replied fiercely, though inwardly he was wondering if he should be saying that after knowing that he had magic.

Merlin turned his bright eyes, brighter still in contrast with the paleness of his skin, to Arthur's.

"Don't blame yourself," he said with great effort, as though this was the most important message he could deliver.

Arthur wondered how, even while in throes of death his friend could know exactly what he was thinking of. He shook his head and wished he could turn away as Merlin's eyes turned to focus on something beyond the forest, beyond all of those present. Those blue eyes once so alive glassed over as Merlin took one last shuddering breath. The sorcerer let his eyelids fall closed as the light enveloped him.

"No," Arthur whispered, gathering his friend up into an embrace, "No, no, no."

And he did not hear Gwaine's cry of grief, or see Lancelot weep, or feel Gwen's tears dripping onto his shoulder when she discovered what had happened. He did not try and process why Merlin would have had magic, or question why he never would have told him. All he knew was that his friend, his brother was still and cold and gone.

All Arthur knew was that he would have given anything to bring him back here.

Because Merlin was just as important.

Romantic love matters, but so does friendship.

*from season one episode thirteen "Le Morte d'Arthur'"

Reviews are very much appreciated.