Chapter Text
It was a beautiful day. The sun was still climbing high in the early sky with the occasional cloud drifting in front of it to give a pleasant reprieve from the heat. The insects and the birds and the animals were singing happily in the perfect temperature of this day of spring. Merlin was pretty sure he had spent ninety per cent of their ride with his eyes closed since his eyes were definitely bright gold. He had decided quite early on the ride that he would be letting his magic connect with the earth and the sky, letting it flow through him and into him. So, with a little magic sent into his horse to follow Arthur’s and the rest circling all around him, it was easy to keep his eyes closed and still stick to the track they were following to reach Arthur’s favourite hunting spot.
A few leagues into the ride Merlin felt someone tap on his shoulder. He snapped his magic back and took conscious control of his reins and waited for a second, he knew it took for his eyes to go back to the original blue, then opened them to see Lancelot staring at him.
“What are you doing?” he kept his voice low enough to let merlin know that he had his suspicions about what he was doing. His face was set into a simple friendly smile but Merlin could see the curiosity behind it.
“Just- “He paused. There really was no way of explaining it. Connecting with magic was one way to put it. But it really didn’t explain it well enough. It didn’t explain how he could send his magic all around him to feel the thrum of life that had nothing to do with anything that moved. “How about I show you?” he whispered.
Lancelot nodded, his smile growing.
Merlin closed his eyes again sending a little magic to his horse to guide it and then let his magic out, just like before. This time though he let it flow through an actual, conscious living thing i.e. Lancelot. He had never done it with someone, this rejuvenating thing or whatever. He wasn’t sure what Lancelot would feel. If he would feel his magic or the magic of the earth and the sky. He was a bit nervous, not that he thought anything bad would happen. It’s just a lot to throw at someone at once. But Merlin had never been one to be cautious. After the initial shock of it all Merlin felt more than he heard Lancelot sigh contently. It left a pleasurable tingling sensation up his spine.
He wanted to let the connection be for a while seeing as how much Lancelot liked it, but soon he felt a disturbance on their left. Bandits. A party of ten people. Far enough away that neither the bandits nor the knights heard each-other. But that wouldn’t last long. Soon the bandits would hear the horses trotting about and march an attack to take them unawares. Well, they didn’t know that two of the riding party was aware of their attack before they even planned it.
Merlin reeled his magic in, from the earth and from Lancelot, regrettably burying it in and opened his eyes. He looked to his left at Lancelot and watched as he nodded and mouthed, I’ll deal with it.
Merlin nodded in kind.
They waited a few minutes then Lancelot said not very loudly, “Did you hear that?” everyone stopped their horses. Of course, there was nothing to hear, Lance was just removing the element of surprise before the attackers got close enough to be any threat. Sensing this or rather hearing the horses stop, the bandits gave up any subtlety they were pursuing and rushed towards them. Though still not visible the commotion of twigs snapping and bushes rustling was enough to give away their direction. Everyone was facing the attackers when they broke through the treeline.
The King and his knights rushed forward to meet them head-on.
Now here’s the thing, whenever Arthur and the knights of the Round Table (and Merlin, of course) went on these hunts and quests they always, all of them, donned the same things (except Merlin, of course). Meaning they all wore the same chainmail, the same armour, the same Pendragon Red cloak adorned with the gold dragon. So, he really didn’t understand why Arthur- who was fighting three of the bandits while Percival fought off two and the rest fought with one each- always seemed to attract the most trouble.
Except, he sighed, he really did. Arthur always had an air about him that screamed leadership. The set of shoulders always seeming to portray the protectiveness he had for whatever party he was leading, his golden hair always nullifying the need for a crown and his startling blue eyes that always seem to demand all the attention around him.
Wait, they are only fighting nine bandits. Where’s the tenth one? Even before the thought was over Merlin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand and he let his instincts take over as he ducked. He felt a sharp pain on his right shoulder as the sword meant to slice his back open only sliced his shoulder. He turned around to come face to face with the tenth bandit who had a very pleased smile that bordered on feral. Merlin rolled his eyes, annoyed partly because of the pain and partly because Who is that satisfied with an easy target to take a life?
The little bitch- yes bitch because that's what he calls people who kill just to kill-, slashed again. Merlin stumbled, not expecting another attack so quickly after the other and tripped because of course, he did. From the ground, Merlin looked over his shoulder to check if anyone was looking.
“They are too busy to protect you, boy.” And then the little fucking bitch kicked. HARD. Merlin felt at least two ribs crack at the impact. He gritted his teeth before he could shout in pain and change the fact that still, no one was looking. Then he looked up at the bitch and reached for his magic and just… pushed. Also, HARD. Merlin heard the crack of his skull when he hit the tree clearly enough to know that the bandit died (he is bandit again because he doesn’t curse the dead). Grimacing at the pain and the murder he just so easily committed, Merlin stood up, his ribs and shoulder protesting the movement. He hurried to hide behind a tree to check his injuries, still keeping an eye on Arthur who was fighting the last bandit.
He just had enough time to check that yes, he indeed had two cracked ribs (which was unfortunate because cracked bones always hurt more than broken ones but they also healed quicker. So, there’s that…) and that his shoulder would need stitches before he heard Arthur’s slightly panicked voice calling out his name.
He closed his eyes preparing for the taunting and the pain that he would have to hide then whispered a small spell to hide the blood on his shoulder before stepping away from the tree and into the clearing.
Arthur’s face didn’t take a second to turn from concerned to teasing before he said,” Done hiding, Merlin?”
Merlin’s eyes drifted to Lancelot, who gave him an apologetic smile. “Maybe give me a sword next time?” Merlin snarked.
“Why? So, you end up stabbing yourself? Or worse, me?” Arthur bit back.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“of you? No. Of your fighting skills? Maybe the better word would be wary.”
Merlin rolled his eyes but gave up on the banter. To which Arthur thought he had won somehow. Seriously he is such a child sometimes, Merlin mentally shook his head. Though the rest of the knights might argue that Arthur and Merlin were both children when it came to their bantering.
Merlin had other things to worry about, like how to stitch his shoulder without anyone noticing before he bled to death. And how painful the rest of the ride was going to be due to his ribs.
Merlin walked over to his horse and steeled himself. This was going to hurt with a capital H. He put his leg on the stirrup and climbed on in one fluid motion, ignoring the sharp pang that travelled through his right side and concentrated on keeping a blank face.
“Merlin, what happened to your cheek?” it was Leon who asked.
He turned just his head to look at him with a confused expression. Then reached with his left hand to touch first his right cheek then left and winced, more from the shock than the pain. Great, now there was an injury on the left side of his body, just to balance it out. Merlin rolled his eyes internally.
“Ah. I fell…” God, that sounded so stupid. He saw Lancelot’s eye travel to the body of the bandit that Merlin had killed. Lance was the only one who knew the exact number of bandits attacking them since he had felt it through his magic earlier. Well, at least someone knew he didn’t just fall on his own volition.
Leon chuckled quietly,” That’s going to bruise.”
“Only you, Merlin.” Arthur left the rest unsaid but it was very clear what it was. Only you would hurt yourself in a battle you didn’t take arms in.
I'm guessing this didn't put a damper on your hunt?" He asked.
"How observant of you, Merlin," Arthur replied.
He started to sigh and then immediately stopped when pain shot through him. Yeah, no deep breaths for the next few days. He opened his eyes and when did he close them? And pulled his reins in his left hand and started following the knights.
It was a quarter of a candle mark later that his horse started getting uneasy. Thankfully the blood had almost stopped flowing, but the horse could smell all that blood and it was making it nervous as to what was the source. Unfortunately, an uneasy horse makes for a jumpy horse and a jumpy horse makes for a jumpy ride. Yeah, this day could not be getting worse.
Another quarter of a candle mark later, Merlin was ready to cry. His bleeding had already stopped. But he was sure had it not for the glamour, his whole right side of the tunic, back and front, had changed its colour from blue to red. He could even feel the top of his breeches were wet and sticky. His shoulder was giving a dull throb and all that blood loss was making him light-headed. But all that discomfort was nothing compared to the regular jolts of pain that his ribs were sending like lightning bolts through his right side that was increasing rapidly in frequency and intensity due to his horse's concern. He tried sending magic to his horse to make it be at ease but couldn't maintain the connection for more than minute what with the light-headedness and the concentration he already needed for the glamour. If they didn't stop soon, he was going to fall off his horse unconscious and with the glamour dropped. Which is just going to open a box of questions that he never wants to answer.
"Let's take a break for the horses here," Arthur said, stopping his own horse. And Merlin could have kissed him right there.
Merlin jumped off his horse without further ado, bending his legs a little more than necessary to let his knees absorb the impact, minimising the pain. He took his wineskin, his medical bag and the bag containing a change of clothes and turned towards the direction he knew had a stream.
“I’m going to wash up.” He said before Arthur started listing tasks for him, with as much urgency as he could muster in his voice. Let them think that he really needed to piss, he thought.
He reached the stream in record time. He sat on the bank and quickly (and achingly) took off his neckerchief and tunic. Using the stream water, he washed all the dried blood off his shoulder. Then he used the wine to disinfect the cut. Rummaging into his medical bag he took out a needle and a silk thread, not having brought painkillers he resigned himself to the pain he was going to go through to stitch himself back up. putting his belt between his teeth, he bit down and got to work.
It was times like these he felt like he should tell Lancelot everything, and not just its and bits that he comes across. All the knights have been given basic medical training by Gaius; lance would have been able to stitch him back up. But merlin really can’t concentrate through all the pain of stitching to keep his glamour up, and Lancelot would see all the scars that decorated his body. He knows the story behind some of them not that he has ever seen any of them. No one except Gaius has seen Merlin’s scars. And the look that Gaius gives him, full of regret, concern and worse of all, pity, is more than enough for him to hide it from the rest. He doesn’t want pity. He is not sad or ashamed of his scars. He earned them in the service of his King, his best friend. There isn’t a thing He would do differently.
Five stitches, some cursing, unfortunately on the behalf of the dead bandit, and several not so deep breaths later Merlin looked down only to groan loudly remembering the attention that his ribs still needed. After a hasty application of honey on his wound and some slave on his bruised ribs, he covered all of his torso in bandages. He packed the bandages tightly on his ribs to stop every small movement from jerking his ribs. The bandage over the cut, he did a bit lightly going over his wound and under his left shoulder. By the end of it, the skin of his torso was barely visible. Maybe this was a bit of an overkill… meh.
He packed everything up and magicked the blood away from his blue tunic and the pants he was still wearing. There was no way he was washing that with a busted shoulder. He decided to use the change of clothes and wore the red tunic instead of the blue and kept the red neckerchief still. If his wound reopened the red cloth will hide the blood well.
He stood up only to sit back down immediately, his head swimming. Blood loss and the sudden elevation change is not a good combination, he thought. Merlin drank the rest of the wine or what little was left of it, praying it would numb the pain a bit. He filled the now empty wineskin with water from the stream and drank heartily. He gave himself a minute, looking around. It was a beautiful place. The trees and the plants seemed to be bowing to the stream as well as trying to reach the sky, towards the sun. He smiled then stood up, slowly this time, and made his way back to the others.
“Ah, mate! There you are. Give me some of that.” Gwaine said pointing at the wineskin. They had fed their own horses with Lancelot still feeding Merlin’s horse- he must have seen its uneasiness after the bandit attack then- and were eating whatever Merlin had got his hands on in the early morning from the kitchens.
“Um… it’s just water now.” Merlin said, cringing at the way Gwaine’s face fell at the words. “Sorry.” He meant it, mostly. Everyone knew Gwaine loved his mead and they had packed only one wineskin for the trip to keep his alcoholism in check. But Merlin’s expenditure had just cut him clean off.
This, regrettably, got Arthur and Lancelot’s attention, for very different reasons.
“You went to get drunk?” Arthur asked partly amused and partly furious.
Not good. “No!” He said a bit too quickly. “I went to wash up.” he pointed at his changed tunic.
“So, where’s the wine?” Arthur asked.
“It fell… in the stream”
“And you didn’t drink any of it?”
“No…” Merlin knew he was backing himself into a corner. He was such a bad liar. Arthur only had to come three steps closer to him to smell the wine off of him. Only Arthur wouldn’t think that a full wineskin would get merlin drunk which he very clearly wasn’t. He would just assume that merlin had high alcohol tolerance with his mindset that Merlin spends most of his nights in the tavern. Seriously, half of the time Merlin only got away with his lies not because he was a good liar or that Arthur was oblivious (well he was maybe a little oblivious but that’s beside the point) but it was because Arthur had this particular set of beliefs about merlin- loyal, idiot, brave, drunkard, cheerful, insolent- that he used to explain away most of Merlin’s suspicious behaviour and very, very bad lying.
Before Merlin could think of something Lancelot, the angel, his saviour, interjected,” Shouldn’t we get moving? The horses have rested enough.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes at both of them, but then seeing no point in his persecution (yes that’s what he’s going to call it) of merlin, since he couldn’t give any chores to punish merlin as of now, he grunted his approval and turned around to climb his horse.
Merlin caught Lancelot’s eye and shot him a grateful smile who only shot him a questioning look in return. Right. He’ll have to explain this to Lance. He just wanted to sleep goddammit, though that could just be the blood loss speaking.
0==[]=========>
It was approximately three candle marks when Lancelot had already tried the pry out the reason behind merlin’s wine endeavour which Merlin deflected beautifully, thank you very much, and Merlin had finally started feeling better since the blood loss, that everything went to shit. Again.
See, Merlin had been too fucking tired to keep an eye out with his magic. He thought maybe, just maybe, six, full trained knights of Camelot would be able to handle themselves. And surely, they wouldn’t get attacked at again on the same day on a non-bandit infested territory. But NoOoO, of course, they got attacked again and of course, the knights couldn’t tell the attack was coming until the bandits were literally one step away from the treeline break.
A dozen or so bandits burst through the treeline shouting, which by the way… why the fuck were they shouting? They could have had their element of surprise for a moment longer had they not been shouting as if their life depended on it.
Arthur and the knights take up to fighting two each, with more and more bandits trying to make their way towards Arthur. Merlin rolled his eyes. It's like there is a message written on his forehead ‘try and kill me, it’ll make Merlin’s life more difficult.’
Merlin jumps off his horse with a grunt and steps closer to the battle but out of earshot in order to say incantations safely. He pushes his magic to his fingertips and stands at the ready to help out any of the knights if their opponents try any dirty tricks because without that this was an easy win for them.
Merlin smiles at the image in front of him, the knights had subconsciously made a very irregular circle around the king, not letting any more men get near him. This wasn’t a group of knights protecting their king, this was a group of friends protecting the friend that is the most in danger due to his position.
The battle- well it was more of a squabble really but whatever- ended without merlin having to use his magic. Arthur turned around to look for him like he always did and their eyes met. Only instead of his face morphing from confusion into teasing like it always did, Arthur paled. For a second Merlin thought maybe his eyes were golden from keeping his magic at the ready but then the air behind him shifted and before he had any time to react something hard slammed the back of his head.
Well, fuck, he thought, while the others called out, and immediately blacked out.