For the first time in days, the prone body on the bed began to stir. With slow, sluggish blinks the warlock dredged himself back to consciousness. His eyes adjusted to the intrusive brightness, focusing first on the wooden ceiling, then roving to the left and right in confusion. Finally, they settled on the figure beside the bed, a very drawn and exhausted blonde, with his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder as he slumbered in a hard wooden chair.

Merlin shook his head in surprise, immediately regretting it as pain flared behind his eyes. At the same time, it felt like a weight dropped upon his stomach, as a pounding, heavy pain made itself known in his midriff. He screwed his eyelids shut and groaned, feeling sick.

A thump sounded through the room, followed by a sharp curse, and in less than a moment Prince Arthur was at the bedside of his wayward manservant.

"Merlin!" Arthur breathed. "Thank God, you're awake."

Merlin forced his eyes open again, squinting at the blonde.

"How do you feel?"

Merlin stared at the man, blinking in confusion.

"I…" he choked on the sound, as his parched throat began to protest.

"Oh, you need water," said Arthur, his voice rushed. He sped to a nearby table and retrieved a mug of water from a jug. Merlin spluttered as Arthur lifted his head and trickled the water down his throat, but he felt better for it immediately afterward.

"W… What happened to me?" he asked, voice raw but impressively steady.

"You were stabbed," said Arthur, voice tight. "By bandits."

"Oh," said Merlin, unable to think of a better response.

"You need to stop doing that, throwing yourself into fights. I could have handled it." The prince looked away, a muscle in his jaw working furiously.

Merlin said nothing.

Arthur met his eyes again, brow furrowed. "You should have kept yourself safe. I don't need your protection. You know that. And I really don't need to be stuck at your bedside for three days watching you bleed yourself half to d – " He cut himself off, quickly clenching his jaw shut.

Merlin breathed, his eyes taking in every inch of the troubled man.

"You've been taking care of me," he breathed, without question.

The blonde scratched his nose. "Well, you weren't in much of a state to take care of yourself."

"You and I… we're very good friends."

"Well, I wouldn't put it exactly…" Arthur stopped himself, taking in his friend's frightened, worried look. "Yes," he said, "we are."

He clasped a hand on Merlin's shoulder, trying to decipher his expression.

"Merlin, what's wrong?"

Merlin blinked, tears building in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice thick.

"What?" asked Arthur, leaning in closer.

"Oh God, I'm so, so sorry."

Merlin was flushed now, near crying. Arthur shook his head, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Merlin stared into his greatest friend's eyes, searching desperately for something he could not find.

"Who are you?" he asked.

A/N: Okay, so wrote this in about twenty minutes. I know it's short, and that retrograde amnesia's pretty rare outside of head trauma patients but I'm going with minor brain damage from blood loss as my explanation. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.

Just so you know, I have no story to go with this, so it's staying as a oneshot unless a mass amount of inspiration strikes.

I'll be getting back to my other stories the moment I have more than half an hour to write in.

Happy New Year! Have a spectacular holiday, everyone.