Chapter Text
Leon was tired. No, scratch that, he was exhausted. Being the first Knight of Camelot was an honour that he really was thankful for, and it was something he’d try and keep until it wasn’t possible to do so any longer. He was happy to serve Arthur, first as a naïve Prince, then as an aging King. He was growing into his adult years, Leon thought, sometimes remembering the young boy that had scraped his knee during training and dutifully pretended it didn’t hurt.
Arthur was King, and Leon was First Knight. He served the King, just as he served the Queen, but his duties were becoming a lot more mundane than that. Most rotated around the King’s close circle, the Round Table Knights, as they had been nicknamed.
There wasn’t a day that Leon didn’t have to pull Gwaine from a bar-fight, or stop Elyan from hitting Arthur over the head when he forgot to pick Guinevere flowers. Percival, while mostly silent, had a habit of following Gwaine into his habitual attempts to fight any man that would stand up to him, so it often fell to Leon to discipline the both of them.
He loved each of them like they were his own brothers, but by Albion, he really was tempted to throttle Gwaine sometimes.
Lancelot was quite easily the one he didn’t have to worry about, until Merlin did one of his vanishing acts, and then the Knight’s noble act vanished. It was all secrets and whispers, murmurings he didn’t understand about Dragons and prophecies, about how it had been Merlin to convince Morgana to come back to Camelot.
It couldn’t be true, but then again, it also could be. Merlin was the one that melded them together, that stitched them up and kept them whole, yet he was a strangely elusive man. As manservant to the King, he maintained the household, while also serving as the Physician’s apprentice. On top of that, he also snuck out of Camelot on a frequent, but irregular, basis.
Which was why Leon was so surprised to find Merlin as he did on this evening. It was late, the sun had set and the Castle was sleeping, but he had drawn the short straw with patrolling tonight. He didn’t really mind, he was planning on making sure that Gwaine made it back from the Tavern, which led him in some of the emptier corridors as he moved towards the West side of the Castle.
It was then that his foot hit something squidgy, lifting his boot and peering through the darkness to see that he had stood on what appeared to be a pie. No doubt a pudding, perhaps apple? Admittedly, it took him too long to note that there was more of the pie splattered on the wall, leading to one of the alcoves.
A figure was slumped, quite clearly passed-out, with a plate upturned on the floor. Leon’s instinct was to reach for his sword, crouching down and reaching for the human-shaped lump.
Warm skin offered a weak pulse, thrumming under his touch as he shifted the body in his arms, just to check for any injuries.
‘…Merlin?’ He halted his hands, freezing when he recognised the mop of dark hair and the sharp cheekbones of the King’s manservant.
It took a couple of shakes for Merlin’s eyes to flutter open, groggy as his hands began to try and push Leon away, a defensive move despite his clear exhaustion.
To begin with, he hoped it was alcohol-induced. But Merlin’s eyes weren’t wide with liquor, just creased with exhaustion, lips downturned as he tried to figure out what had happened.
‘Leon?’ Yet more proof was something wrong, the Knight thought. Merlin always referred to him with a title while they were in the Castle, something he had insisted that the manservant didn’t have to do. They were friends, Merlin was as close to being a brother as the Round Table Knights, but the man was insistent on formalities.
‘Steady, I think you passed out.’ He waited for Merlin’s shock, or for an explanation, but received none. Instead, the servant reached for his head, wincing when he did so.
‘I… I must have fallen.’ He looked tired. Exhausted. Dead to the world, pale and clearly overworked, movements unsure as he tried to right himself.
‘Here, allow me to help you.’ Leon was used to mothering the younger Knights, but never Merlin. The manservant was quite stubborn, always bright smiles and a snappy mouth that earned him the respect of the King.
‘I can do it.’ Still stubborn, trying to bat away Leon’s hands as he dragged himself up to a standing position.
As soon as he released his grip on the wall, the manservant went tumbling, and it was Leon’s quick reflexes that managed to catch the poor man.
‘M’okay.’ Merlin slurred, Leon halting when he realised that he was bearing Merlin’s entire weight.
He was thinner than expected, Leon’s fingers able to fully close around his wrist. Dread filled his stomach, a worry that niggled away as he slowly wrapped an arm around the man’s waist.
‘Come on, my Chambers aren’t too far.’
Progress wasn’t quick. It would have taken an age to get Merlin back to his own room, and Leon didn’t need his bed tonight anyway, so it was far simpler to bring the manservant to his own room. The fire was lit, although down to just embers, the bed turned-down and providing a good spot to place Merlin down.
‘I need… the mess…’ Merlin’s words were jumbled, confused as he tried to stand back up.
He didn’t make it far. Leon didn’t even have to touch him for him to fall, slumping back onto the bed. Stoking the fire up, he returned to the manservant, only to find him unconscious.
‘Oh, Merlin.’ Leon reached for the boots, unlacing them quickly and kicking them off. The jacket was harder to get rid of, what with Merlin’s long limbs. It didn’t help that he was fighting him, even in his sleeping state, like he was trying to defend himself.
Leon had never considered the fact that Merlin had been properly hurt, not until he managed to get the jacket off. The warmer weather of the summer had made Merlin choose a short-sleeved tunic, revealing arms with lithe muscle. But it wasn’t that he focused on, instead the silvery scars that seemed to litter his upper arms. Curiosity got the better of him, moving to the collar of Merlin’s shirt and moving it down to reveal the beginning of a burn just below his collarbone.
A burn, far too circular to be anything other than Magic, or torture.
‘L’on?’ A mumbled voice came from the pillow, and Leon drew his hands back. Whatever he’d just seen, he wasn’t supposed to.
‘Sleep, Merlin. I’ll make sure the mess is cleaned.’ With that, he tucked the man in the bed, before exiting the room quietly.
**
They weren’t enemies. He knew that.
They were friends.
‘Don’t make me stab you.’ Morgana snarled, Merlin regretting the sentence he had just thought.
Not quite friends, then. Mind you, he didn’t think anybody could judge him, considering nobody had tried to swerve destiny in quite a way before. It wasn’t easy, keeping Arthur as King while trying to convince his sister that she could better serve Magic by his side.
The first time, it had been agony. The Fomorroh was dangerous, quite clearly aimed at making him suffer, but Merlin knew that what Morgana really wanted was her sister back. He couldn’t give her that, but he had lost enough people to know what pain was like.
Eventually, they managed to find common ground in the loss that they both felt. Merlin still had nightmares about Freya, Will and Balinor, still woke up in cold sweats when he remembered how close he had been to losing Lancelot as well. He knew what grief was, and he knew the anger that could come with it.
Morgana had lost her sister. Like him, she’d been tortured, and that common topic seemed to tie the two of them together. She stayed in the hobble of a home in the forest, watching Merlin with weary eyes as he planned trips to come and see her. He’d bring dresses that he snuck from Gwen’s discarded pile, pastries from the kitchen and a selection of books from Geoffrey’s library.
They didn’t start out as friends, but a kind-of trust formed between them. She still claimed he would be her doom, but they were both too tired of losing people to run from destiny any longer.
Bringing Morgana to Camelot hadn’t been easy. Convincing her to apologise to Arthur, although she still adamantly stated that she’d have killed Uther with her bare hands if she had the chance, was a difficult act. Merlin would never forget the way that Arthur’s eyes had widened, while Morgana remained in the doorway, waiting for him to the call the Knights to arrest her.
He hadn’t, and Morgana had returned to her home. Her visits became more frequent, Merlin encouraging her to show Arthur what she could do with her gift.
He’d never really noticed that it was running him into the ground. Skipping meals wasn’t a new thing, but it happened more and more, what with him balancing all his jobs. Arthur’s manservant, a secret Sorcerer, an apprentice to the Physician, and the teacher of a High Priestess.
To make it worse, he hadn’t slept in a while. Nightmares weren’t uncommon, with the faces of those he cared the most for flashing behind his eyes as he tried to rest. Of Lancelot, stepping into the Veil. Gwaine, dying by the hand of a sword Merlin could have protected. Percival, on a Hunt. Gwen, when an assassin crept in to the Castle at night.
Arthur, by a sword forged in Dragon’s fire, bleeding from his side.
The apple pie was a gift for Arthur, even if it was a little late. He’d just managed to sneak back in from visiting Morgana, their earlier practice with daggers making his muscles ached. He could have sworn that she just wanted the opportunity to stab him, but then again, there was a tenderness in her eyes that came when he stumbled or fell.
One moment, he was walking down the corridor, wondering if he would manage to get some sleep before having to wake up.
The next, the wall was rapidly approaching, and he wished he’d had the thought to avoid getting apple pie on his jacket.
**
‘Sire, can I have a word?’ Arthur’s head rose from where he was speaking to Lancelot, the other Round Table Knights halting their play-fighting to look at Leon. Usually, he was comfortable under scrutiny, but today, he felt exposed. Probably because he hadn't slept yet, or the fact that when he returned to his Chambers, Merlin was gone. The room had been made neatly, the fireplace emptied, and it could only have been the manservant that did it.
‘Of course. In private?’ He glanced around at the others, lingering on Lancelot. If the two were as close as Leon believed, then would the Knight report back? No, Lancelot and Merlin were nothing but loyal to Arthur, Leon knew that.
‘No need, Sire. It’s about Merlin.’ Instantly, Lancelot’s smile was gone. If Leon hadn't been looking out for it, he’d have missed the way that Lancelot’s fingers flexed towards his sword, an instinct that he took note of.
‘What’s the idiot done now?’ Arthur joked, clearly believing this to be a light conversation.
‘I found him in one of the corridors early this morning, passed out.’
‘Too much alcohol?’ Arthur’s concern was seeping in, and Leon knew that he was hoping the answer to his question was a yes.
‘Exhaustion. I took him back to my Chambers, but Sire, his weight… It could be comparable to a child.’ Arthur’s worry for Merlin was something they all knew was real. So, bringing this up… Leon had to be careful.
‘That’s impossible.’ Arthur stated, even though his tone deceived him.
‘If I may interrupt,’ Lancelot began, glancing between the two of them, ‘But I was aware of this, Sire.’
If there was one thing rarer than Arthur not being concerned about Merlin, it was the King being annoyed at his favourite Knight. Like now, anger being turned towards Lancelot.
‘You knew?!’ Arthur hissed out, while the other Knights closed in around them.
‘Merlin’s predictable. If I push the matter, he’ll get worse. We’ve been working on it.’ Lancelot snapped back, defensive, and a silence fell between the group.
‘As much as I hate to agree, Lance is right. Merls is stubborn, and he certainly won’t want you helping.’ Gwaine supplied, a hint of knowing in his eyes that made Leon revaluate his opinion on the rebellious Knight. For all his character, he certainly did see more than most.
‘Then we watch.’ Arthur concluded, looking across to Leon for confirmation.
The first Knight bowed his head, although he couldn’t help but think they should be doing more.
**
He hated blood. Not only did it get everywhere, but as it dried, it flaked off his skin in a constant reminder of what he’d failed to do.
The water basin was stained a muddy red, getting worse every time the cloth was wrung out.
Gaius had tried to keep him upbeat, mentioning the fact that the group of travellers would have been an issue that Arthur couldn’t have ignored. He’d have gone after them, probably stumbling across the magical artefacts that Merlin had needed destroying.
He’d expected the Warriors. The men with swords and shields, armour that glinted in the sunlight as he stalked them through the trees. He’d expected them to be a threat to Camelot, to his King, and to the High Priestess that was hiding in her home not too far away.
He hadn't expected the child that had been travelling with them. A boy, no more than twelve summers old, who they used as leverage to try and get Merlin to abandon his mission of retrieving the objects.
Had he been healthy, fit and awake, he might have noted the arrow bolt that cut through the air. It wasn’t like his Magic couldn’t handle such a thing, a mere look would have been enough to halt it.
But he hadn't, because his hands had already been shaking with exertion, body shivering in the cold that never seemed to leave anymore.
So, Merlin had watched the child bleed out. It was a direct hit, straight to the chest, and his Magic was in no-way quick enough to heal such a wound. Instead, he’d given the child a proper funeral, determined not to leave the body out in the wilderness.
Now, the evidence of failing lingered, staining the water beneath his fingertips.
‘Merlin?’ Two raps at the door, Gaius’s voice filtering through.
‘What is it?’ He croaked out, swallowing the quickly-forming lump.
‘Lady Morgana has arrived back in Camelot.’
**
Merlin snuck around a lot. Leon had managed to follow him to the treeline, before he vanished, and the First Knight was forced to return back to Camelot. He wondered if Arthur was even aware, but from the fact that he heard the King asking one of the servants where Merlin was, he must have noticed.
Was it something they just ignored? Did anyone want to point out the obvious, that one man shouldn’t be sneaking around so much, not when he was one of the closest people to the King?
Training stretched on, with Lancelot occasionally sneaking glances across, and Gwaine lying back on the grass like he would rather be anywhere but here.
Once training had finished, Leon took the longer route back to the armoury, before heading towards the Castle. It was when he reached the steps that he noted a couple of flecks of red in the dust, crouching down to rub the substance between his thumb and forefinger.
Blood, clearly, the scent unmistakeable. He followed, noting it wasn’t enough blood to warrant such concern, especially not when it was leading towards the Physician’s home.
It was probably one of Gaius’s patients. That was what Leon told himself, even as he reached the ajar door and peered around.
The room was empty, save for Gaius, pottering around with the mix of potions at the table. Not a patient in sight, and the door to Merlin’s room was firmly shut.
It didn’t help the sick feeling in his stomach.
**
‘Where’s my sister?’ Arthur asked his wife, glancing around the room. Gwen looked confused, placing down the book she had been reading and rising up, Leon doing his best to keep his face neutral as the Queen’s gaze flicked to them.
‘She informed me she was with you.’ Well, clearly that was a lie. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Morgana, she was quite clearly genuine in her desire to bond with Arthur. He’d seen how hard she tried, and although he hadn't figured out what drew her back to Camelot, he was glad she’d come back.
‘Great, so now there’s a rogue Witch in my Castle.’ The King muttered, looking across to Leon, who had no ideas on what to do next. Searching the Castle would attract attention that Morgana didn’t need, not when most of the servants still didn’t trust her.
‘Sire,’ Lancelot stepped forward, yet again the one with the answers, ‘Might I suggest checking the ramparts?’
How did nobody ever ask where Lancelot got this information? Leon watched as Arthur nodded, reaching for Gwen’s hand like he needed the comfort she offered.
**
‘You shouldn’t be here.’
‘Oh hush, nobody comes up here anymore.’
‘If someone see’s us…’
‘You’re a servant of the King, and I’m his sister. Nobody’s going to look twice.’ Morgana moved closer to him, peering down through dark eyelashes. Merlin didn’t like the scrutiny, it made him feel more vulnerable than he was used to.
‘I didn’t think you’d be back in Camelot till the end of the week.’ Merlin was more than happy to shift the attention off of himself, guiding it back to the Lady by his side. Morgana huffed, remained standing as she looked out across the City.
‘You really thought you could come into my area of the forest without me finding out?’ She quipped, shoes nudging his thigh gently.
Merlin tensed up, remembering the sticky blood that still stained his clothing. He’d have to burn them, it wasn’t ever going to come out.
‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’ He answered, almost honestly, and Morgana hummed.
‘Why don’t you trust me?’
‘I do.’ He didn’t have to even think about that sentence, it just slipped out.
‘Then why don’t you let me help you? You look moments from death, Merlin.’ She lifted her skirts delicately, before taking a seat beside him.
If anyone could see them now, the sight would be preposterous.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’ve not slept in days, and don’t even get me started on eating. I thought we were supposed to help each other.’ She was right, as usual. He’d been the one to make her promise that, and now he was going against it.
‘I… I’m just tired.’ He admitted, biting his lower lip.
‘Then let me help.’
‘You’ve got bigger things to deal with, like Arthur, and Gwen, and convincing Camelot that you don’t mean them any harm…’ A hand closed over his mouth, warm fingers that held in place while Morgana’s lips tugged up into a smile.
‘You brought me back to Camelot, convinced me to reconcile with my brother. Let me help you.’ He wanted to fight, because that was just the way it had to go. He had to fight, because he was supposed to be the one protecting Camelot.
But he didn’t fight, just slumped into her touch and watched as she grinned.
‘Now, time for a little Magic.’
‘Someone might see!’ He hissed, looking around before focusing back on Morgana’s golden eyes.
‘Don’t be such a spoilsport, Merlin.’ In the next moment, a plate of food had appeared, and Merlin blushed when his stomach rumbled.
‘Open up.’ She teased, and Merlin rolled his eyes.
**
Morgana stayed for longer, this time. Merlin wasn’t sure why Arthur was insisting that she stay, but it did mean he got more sleep. Most of the time he managed to get to her Chambers in the evening, listening to her chatter away about Magic while she occasionally fed him fruits, the two perfectly happy in each other’s company.
By the next week, Merlin felt stronger. He no longer wobbled when Arthur patted his shoulder, and he managed to complete his chores without getting out of breath.
Like today, working away on stitching up Arthur’s shirts while Morgana and Gwen were sitting down in the meadow. They were outside of the City’s walls, which meant the Knights had come to defend their Queen, and Arthur was lounging around in the long grass.
It was peaceful. Merlin couldn’t stop the smile that spread when he saw all his friends happy, the unison that they all deserved.
‘A rabbit!’ Gwen cooed, looking up at Morgana’s golden eyes as she shaped the creature in front.
Arthur still tensed when she performed Magic, but it was quickly replaced with a smile that made Merlin so proud of him.
‘Hey.’ He jumped, before looking across to Leon, who had sat beside him.
‘Hi.’ He replied, smiling when Leon nudged him gently.
‘You’re looking happy today.’ He hadn't realised the Knight was paying attention, but it was nice to see his friend concerned.
‘As are you.’ He shot back, teasing, and Leon laughed. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, ruffling his hair before they went back to watching the others.
**
‘W’s wrong?’ Arthur slurred, sitting up in bed while Leon averted his eyes from the Queen. She was dressed in a nightgown, but it was still rude of him to barge in.
‘One of the Guards reported shouting from Lady Morgana’s Chambers. They fear it might be a nightmare, milord.’ Arthur was rolling out of bed, grabbing a shirt while Gwen clutched at the blankets, watching the two of them.
‘Arthur…’
‘I’ll be back soon, love.’ He promised, halting when she reached for his hand.
‘Be careful.’ They all knew that Morgana’s Magic was dangerous, had seen the damage it could do.
The other Round Table Knights had got the memo, hovering around the doorway as they approached. Leon was surprised to find the door open, even more surprised when he realised that there was somebody else in the room.
‘Is that…’
‘I fetched him, Sire.’ Lancelot cut in, while Leon thought back to what they had seen on the ramparts. Merlin and Morgana were closer than he thought, he could have sworn they hated each other when Morgana first turned to the darker side.
**
Merlin was more than aware that the King was watching him, but his concern was Morgana’s fire-encased fingertips, pinned only by his knees as he straddled her form.
‘Morgana.’ He pleaded, fingers brushing the dark strands of hair from her sweaty face as he tried to wake her.
It took a couple of attempts before she gasped, eyes molten as she looked up at him. A faint sizzling sound could be heard where her hand was gripping his thigh, burning through the threadbare trousers, but he didn’t move.
‘Merlin.’ She echoed his tone, confused and terrified.
‘You’re okay. You’re in Camelot, in your room.’ She nodded, quickly snatched her hand back and looked in horror at the handprint she’d left.
‘I burned you.’
‘It’s fine.’ He returned, moving off of her and looking to Arthur.
The King was studying him, but he didn’t speak.
‘Brother, I… I’m sorry to have woken you.’ Morgana slid out of the bed, nightgown plastered to her form as she took another deep breath. The gold in her eyes was gone, replaced with the worried green.
‘It’s no trouble. Leon, take Merlin back to his room and make sure that burn is treated. We’ll stay with Morgana, until she feels better.’ Merlin went to argue, but Lancelot shot him a pointed look.
Right, he’d almost exposed more than he should have done.
Leon didn’t speak as they walked to Gaius’s room. His Uncle wasn’t in, having gone to visit someone in the lower town, and he wouldn’t be returning till the morning. It meant that Leon had no qualms about making Merlin perch on the bench, while he moved to the usual ointments.
‘Trousers off. I need to see the burn.’ He wanted to point out that he was the Physician’s apprentice, and was more than capable of dealing with his own wounds.
Then Leon was staring at him, with a patience that made the guilt burn brighter.
He’d woken up the night after the apple-pie incident without his jacket on. Leon must have seen the silvery marks on his skin, but he hadn't said anything.
He abandoned his trousers, kicking them off and trying not to feel self-conscious as the Knight glanced at his thighs. Several larger wounds, mostly ones that had needed stitches, were clearly visible.
The handprint was already swelling up, but the pain wasn’t noticeable. Not until a cold cloth was pressed to it, and he hissed back tears.
‘Sorry.’ He murmured, more than aware that Leon didn’t have time to deal with his own inability to handle pain.
Leon gave him an unreadable look, before continuing his work.
**
In the end, he’d blame it all on a lack of sleep. He’d accidentally skipped a couple of meals over the past week, which explained why he didn’t notice the bandits until they were literally on top of them. Gwen was dragged down from her horse, while Arthur quickly drew his sword to those attacking.
Morgana’s hands stretched out to defend herself, or maybe the others, but she halted when she realised the predicament her brother was in.
Merlin dragged himself out of the dirt, trying hard not to pass out as he looked over at Arthur. His King, with a sword pressed to his throat, while the other Knights were pinned down and stripped of their weapons.
It was the hand holding Gwen that angered him, the thumb that gripped her cheek. Elyan snarled, while Arthur looked murderous, but Merlin was done.
Done.
Tired, and fed up of trying to run around when he couldn’t even keep himself above water.
‘Get your hands off her.’ He was rather surprised by how hateful his tone sounded, by the threat that slipped out as he dragged himself up to his knees. A boot hit dead in the centre of his back, pushing him back to the dirt.
‘Look here, boys. A servant trying to protect his Queen!’ People were laughing, Arthur was sending him a look that told him to shut up, and Morgana was being approached by people that were clearly wary of her Magic.
She was looking at him, unsure of what to do. Everyone, always looking at him, and he didn’t know when he’d given up caring about his own safety.
‘I’ll give you one more warning. Remove. Your. Hands.’ Each word was punctuated by a breath, by Merlin focusing on where the man held Gwen tightly.
‘What, like this?’ His thumb pressed down, the Queen gasping as the skin split, the tiniest bead of blood welling up under the pressure.
One bead of blood. That was all it took for Merlin’s tolerance to snap, for his exhaustion to make him delirious enough that he thought it was a good idea to let his Magic burst forward.
Someone must have yelped, because Excalibur came to his hand as he held it out for her, wrapping fingers around the handle and drawing it up to threaten the idiot still holding the Queen.
‘Another sorcerer?’ One of them hissed, while Merlin’s lip curled back.
‘Release her, or I’ll slice you down where you stand.’ He wasn’t joking, either. He would, without hesitation, and the man seemed to realise that.
Some fled for the trees, while others backed away slowly, staring at Merlin like he was a madman while he watched them leave.
‘Merlin?’ Morgana questioned, the only one comfortable with him now that he’d revealed how much of a monster he was.
‘I’m so tired.’ The same admittance, only this time it was anger that fuelled it.
‘Merlin…’ She sounded worried, or sympathetic, and he wanted neither of those emotions.
‘No! No, you don’t get to stand there and use SYMPATHY!’ He hissed, dragging Excalibur back to his side and glaring at her.
‘You got your time at being evil! You got to be the bad guy, you got to protect our people while I had to protect Uther!’ He gasped in for air, the band around his chest growing tighter as he did so.
‘I never wanted this! I never wanted to be the one that they cower from, or to hide away knowing that I can never leave! I’ve lost everything to be here, but people still want more, and I’m so tired!’ The sword came down in one clean motion, cutting straight through the tree trunk he’d aimed it at.
It burned as it sliced, Merlin watching in horror as it slowly creaked, before tipping and falling through the canopy. The crashing sound snapped him out of his ramblings, dropping the sword like it had burned him.
Gwen was still on her knees, eyes wide with shock, the blood still on her cheek.
He didn’t think before approaching, it was a habit. Arthur was moving, but he halted when Merlin’s fingers tracked over the scratch, healing it without needing to move his lips.
‘I wouldn’t hurt you.’ Merlin promised her, unsure of when he’d had to start making the distinction, watching as Gwen’s eyes filled with tears.
He’d hurt them, all of them.
‘Merlin, you need to breathe.’ Morgana advised, still warily watching her brother, who was staring at Merlin like they’d never seen each other before.
Merlin was tired.
‘Come here.’
In the end, it wasn’t Arthur that spoke to him. It wasn’t Morgana, or Gwen, or Lancelot. It wasn’t even Gwaine.
It was Leon, who offered out his arms for Merlin to blindly stumble into, sinking into the embrace and just about managing to mutter an apology before his legs gave out from under him.