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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.

Chapter Text

Again? Really? As much as Arthur loved the thrill of a good battle, killing people wasn’t something he was proud of. Already he had killed two people this very day and that could have been so easily three had the third guy not decided to run away. Now looking at about a dozen men running towards them with swords drawn, Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if this hunting trip was cursed.

Shrugging off his reluctance, Arthur rushed in to meet the intruders before they came near enough to spook the horses. Soon, he was lost in the battle with adrenaline pumping through him and every burn of his muscle due to exertion only spurring him on.

After it was all over, he sighed, he had killed two men. But now was not the time to lament. Arthur turned around searching for his incompetent servant. He had a habit of getting into trouble where there wasn’t any.

Arthur spotted him only for his heart to stop. Merlin was smiling fondly at him for some ungodly reason and there was a bandit behind him who was swinging the pommel for his sword towards his head. Arthur saw the moment Merlin realized someone was behind him, but Gods, it was too late.

The pommel smashed against his head. HARD. There were some shouts of ‘Merlin’. His eyes fell shut even before his body started slumping. The bandit took hold of merlin with one arm around his chest and shoulder and the other holding his sword to Merlin’s throat.

“That won’t do you any good. All your… comrades are dead.” The bandit pushed his sword harder against merlin at Arthur’s words. Arthur's heart was working double time by this point. He wasn’t sure how he was forming any coherent thoughts with all the red he was seeing.

“You don’t want to hurt him. Just let him go and walk away.” It was Elyan’s calm and commanding voice that spoke. If Arthur had it in him, he would have been jealous at how Elyan could calm himself when it was needed, just like his sister.

The bandit seemed to weigh his options, all the while tightening his hold and sword on Merlin.

A moment passed and Arthur opened his mouth to threaten this time, but the bandit let go of Merlin right then and ran in the opposite direction. Merlin fell like a puppet with its strings cut.

Arthur rushed to Merlin. Less than a moment later all the knights were surrounding Merlin with Arthur and Gwaine on their knees, on both sides of Merlin. Arthur put his arm around merlin’s shoulder and lifted his head onto his lap, checking how bad the hit was. He could see his chest moving steadily even before he got to check for about checking his pulse, also strong and steady. Though the wound was not bleeding anymore, Merlin’s scalp, the area behind his ear and nape was coated in blood. The dark red giving a stark contrast to how white Merlin had gotten. The sight was doing nothing to subdue Arthur’s panic. Arthur tightened his grip on merlin.

"Is this blood?" Arthur murmured, feeling some wetness on his fingers that were around Merlin's shoulder.

"Are those bandages?" Gwaine said at the same time, pointing at the white cloth peeking from underneath Merlin's tunic.

Arthur lifted Merlin's tunic to check. To his horror, he discovered his whole abdomen covered in bandages, while Merlin lay limp is his arms. And it didn’t stop! Arthur kept lifting his tunic and kept seeing white instead of Merlin’s pale, unblemished skin.

“Help me get this off.” He said to Gwaine. Together they managed to get Merlin’s tunic off of him.

Arthur didn’t understand. Merlin had a set of bandages, one wrapping his stomach and the other covering his chest diagonally, going over his right shoulder and under his left. His covered shoulder was sporting a very big and slowly becoming a bigger spot of red. But when? How? who? He didn’t know how old these injuries were but they couldn’t be that old seeing how easily one of them started bleeding.

“We need to stop that bleeding.” Percival seemingly being the first one to snap out of the unlikeliness of the situation. He looked like he was blaming himself. Arthur understood the feeling very well. How did they let this happen.

“His head needs to be dressed too,” Leon said, his voice thick with emotion. Leon. The one night who puts propriety as his priority. But then he was also the only one who knew Merlin as long as Arthur did.

“His neck could get infected if not treated properly…” Elyan said, inching towards Merlin’s horse, probably for the medical bag. Arthur then realized that Merlin being unconscious also meant that the physician of the group was unavailable. Although every one of the knights knew how to deal with Merlin’s un-bandaged injuries, nobody had treated a wound in years because Merlin was always there, following them into any quest any battle or hunting trip Arthur took fancy to.

“Should we cut his bandages?” Gwaine said seeming to come to the same realization.

“No!” Lancelot said a little panicked. Arthur looked up to him, frowning. “Um… we don’t know the nature of his injuries underneath. We might make it worse by cutting them off.” He continued.

“He’s bleeding through his bandages, opening them would be helping, at least the shoulder,” Gwaine argued.

“yes. But, maybe we should just app- “

Percival interrupted, “Try rousing him. We can just ask him.”

Arthur tapped merlin’s cheek,” Merlin. Merlin?” nothing. Well, Arthur wasn’t giving up that easy. He nearly slapped Merlin this time,” MERLIN!”

Merlin’s eyes snapped open. “I’m not late.” He mumbled. His gaze was unfocused. And he was squinting as if he was trying to focus his sight on something. “What happened? Where are we?” he tried sitting up but Arthur held him down firmly.

“Hey, Merlin. Look at me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m seeing three of you so I guess that’s a concussion.” Merlin brought his hand up to his hair, searching, and hissed when his fingers made contact with the bump on his head. Then his hand travelled lower, searching for more injuries. Upon coming to his neck wound, he said,” Was I held at sword point?”

He was- he was diagnosing himself, with practised ease, while disoriented and concussed, with no memory of how he got there at Arthur’s simple question of ‘how are you feeling’. A shiver ran up his spine. How often did Merlin find himself in situations like these for him to be at such ease with his current predicament?

Merlin’s hand travelled lower and he stiffened,” Where’s my shirt?” he mumbled, panic hinting at his voice. Really this is what he was going to panic about? His shirt? His hand travelled lower and he relaxed when it touched the bandages. He continued his self-diagnosing through the white cloth his hands stopping twice: once at his bleeding shoulder and the other at his right waist. But he didn’t say anything about them.

Once his hand dropped, his eyes started drooping.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Arthur asked knowing perfectly well what he was doing.

“Sleepy…”

“Is that a good idea?”

Merlin forced his eyes open. “No, no sleeping for recently concussed patients.” He recited.

“that’s what I thought.” Arthur murmured, helping merlin sit up with his back against a tree. “Now you are going to stay awake, you hear me?” he said in a stern tone.
“You can’t order me to stay awake, you clo’pole.” He slurred.

“Yeah? Watch me.”

Merlin smiled lopsidedly. Any other time Arthur would have continued with some threat about the stocks or maybe even the dungeons, but Merlin was still looking very out of it and the image of him covered in bandages and bleeding, shut him up.

“Come on, we need to change your bandages.” He said when merlin started drifting again.

His head shot up. though he seemed to regret the fast moment immediately. “No, we don’t.”

“Merlin you are bleeding through your bandages,” Arthur said a bit annoyed.

“Yes, but I’m the physician and I say I don’t need my bandages changed.” For God’s sake. He sounded so pleased with himself for coming up with that.

It was kind of ridiculous, the way he was trying to take control of the situation with slurred speech and an addled brain.

“You are not a physician, Merlin. You are barely an apprentice.” Though Arthur knew that it wasn’t true.

“Arthur,” he said in a tone that implied that Arthur was the one with the addled brain,” Gaius upgraded me to a physician five years ago.”

“Huh.” That long ago?

“you are so oblivious.” He snorted and then instantly his hand shot to his waist.

“Don’t test me. Hurt or not, I will hit you.” Arthur said trying to distract him from what he now suspected was bruised ribs.

“Okay, guys, not the point. Let’s just wait till he gets out of this delirious state then we can change his bandages.” Lancelot said.

“You’re a good friend, Lance,” Merlin said, his head swaying.

“We don’t know how long that will take,” Arthur said, eyeing the spot of red worriedly.

“you’re not a good friend, Arthur”

“Shut up, Merlin. Look at him! He’s not coming back anytime soon.” Arthur said properly annoyed now. He knew Merlin and Lancelot had this thing, where they agreed about everything, but this was getting ridiculous. “Merlin, how did you end up with these injuries?”

“Bandi’s”

Of course, the idiot thought he was talking about his head. “No, I’m asking about your shoulder and your bruised ribs,” Arthur said patiently.

“Cracke’”

“What?”

“My ribs. They’re cracke’ no’ bruise’.”

Why the actual hell did this buffoon agree to come to a hunting trip with cracked ribs?!

“Who did this to you, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was shaking with anger. He wasn’t sure who it was directed at; the inflictor, Merlin or himself for not noticing. Merlin had looked so peaceful at the start of the journey. There was no sign of pain on his face. He was practically beaming as bright as the spring sun, with his eyes closed. Arthur had seen that content smile on him, the smile that rarely graced his face these days, and known that dragging his grumbling servant had been the right thing to do.

“Bandi’s”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. He wanted to punch something, preferably someone.

“Again-“

“Sire,” Lancelot interrupted. Arthur looked up to find a very guilty looking Lancelot, who continued,” I think he means the bandits from earlier.”

“you knew he was hurt,” Arthur said before he even processed what Lancelot meant.

“No,” he said like he wanted to say the opposite. “I knew something was off, with his horse acting up and then the wine, but I didn’t know what.”

He had taken the wine to clean his wound then. Gods, he hadn’t even considered that, even remotely. Merlin had practically run from them when they took the break for the horses with a change of clothes, and Arthur had just written it off as Merlin’s weirdly small bladder. He had gone to the stream to patch himself up. but why? Why hide this?

He inched his hand closer to the knot that tied off the bandages on his chest and suddenly Merlin had his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“If you really want to play nurse so much, how abou’ you dress my head woun’ firs’, huh?” Merlin's voice had its usual teasing tone with the obvious tiredness to it, but there was something more, something desperate. Arthur didn’t understand. It was like he was missing something and by the look on the faces of the rest of the knights, they heard it too.

Arthur just went with it. He barked orders for the knights to fetch the waterskin and medical bag. It was quite an embarrassing ordeal, all of them fumbled through it and took longer than necessary to patch his head up, haphazardly. By the end of it, Merlin was half unconscious and smiling dopily as if he knew exactly what was going on.

Arthur didn’t hesitate this time. Pulling out the dagger from his boot and cut open the bandages on his chest. There was a sound of protest from behind him, Lancelot, but he pointedly ignored him and so did the rest of the knights.

Putting the bandages aside Arthur’s eyes went straight to Merlin’s shoulder. The only explanation Arthur could come up for merlin’s reluctance was that he didn’t want to be seen. Arthur could respect that, even if he thought it was stupid in the current situation.

The hand with the waterskin paused at the sight in front of him. Merlin had done a good job at stitching himself especially given the angle and the fact that he must have done it with his left hand. But that’s not why he had paused, the way the stitches were ripped open, it looked …painful. Yeah, that was one word for it.
He was about to begin when he heard several gasps. He looked up to see all of the knights staring at Merlin’s chest. Arthur tried, he really did, to just ignore them and get to work, but the look on their faces Had him looking too. They looked horrified and awed and disturbed all at the same time. And when Arthur’s eyes reached merlin’s chest he realized why.

Right in the middle of his chest was a large, perfectly circular burn mark. Its diameter covering the whole of his sternum, starting from the hollow of his neck. The skin was a light pink and smooth like a baby’s, with only the edges of it looking like a naturally old burn mark. Looking at it, Arthur felt a phantom pain on his left shoulder, the kind he only got in the dead of winter or when he was extremely stressed and/or tired. He rolled his shoulder absently and Merlin followed his moment sharply, his eyes wide with panic but still not terribly focused.

Merlin lifted his hand to covers it but then sighed, winced and dropped his hand. That was enough to spur him into action. The questions can come later, right now merlin needed them.

0==[]===========>

After Arthur had cleaned the wound with nothing but water, Elyan followed his lead and quietly took over the stitches. They covered the stitches then took a detour to the nearest village, with Arthur, Merlin and Gwaine on foot and the rest taking the horses ahead to alert a local Healer. Merlin, the idiot had insisted that he had no problem in riding the horse all the way back to Camelot to get treated by Gaius. But Arthur’s face to those words had promptly shut him up. they walked slowly and steadily towards the village in silence only filled with chatter when merlin seemed to drift. Merlin had gone very pale and Arthur felt that somehow it was only partly because of the injuries. Needless to say, it was well after dusk when the trio arrived at the village.

Leon and Lancelot were waiting at the border of the village to lead them to the healer’s house. Percival and Elyan were already waiting at the healer’s workshop. The healer, Jorden, promptly begun to introducing himself and letting Arthur know what an honour it was to be in the presence of the king while completely ignoring the Merin, who was finally looking quite lucid was still leaning very heavily on Gwaine.

Arthur had to order the bootlicker to stop wasting time and check on merlin. It was only when all the bandages fell away from a very resigned looking manservant did Arthur regret not wasting more time.

Chapter Text

No one said anything while Jorden looked after Merlin. Looked after bruised and scarred Merlin. Bruised in ways that should have made anyone whimper away from walking. Scarred in ways Arthur didn’t think were possible on a living body. Merlin’s burn mark, although, the biggest scar on his upper-body, was not the most astounding. On his lower back, right on the small of his back was a scar that looked suspiciously like a Serket sting. Only no one survived a Serket sting. No one. So, it had to be something else.

Then there were the other somewhat explainable scars. He had a scar that looked like someone had repeatedly cut into him to pull something out, at the spot where the neck and back met. He was covered with jagged marks that had to originate from maces and even sharp precise lined scars that could have only been stab wounds once.

Arthur wanted to cry at the sight of him. Merlin was his responsibility, his to take care of. When had this happened? Why hadn’t he seen any signs? How had he let this happen?

After Merlin was knocked out by all the tonics, he was fed for pain relief and rest, the knights were left to deal with their burning curiosity without any answers. No one except Merlin slept that night, no one talked either, because as much as they were curious, it didn’t win out the guilt. Each and every one of them knew Merlin. They knew the man who would make extra noise on hunting trips to stave off the ‘defenceless’ animals. They knew the man who never seemed to not smile from ear to ear, The man who would drop everything at a moment’s notice to help anyone who so much as looked in need of it. And now they knew the man that hid.

They couldn’t for the life of them reconcile that bubbly, carefree man with the scarred… warrior sleeping in the next room. Warrior, because what else could you call him? People don’t get scars like that cleaning chamber pots and mucking stables.

So, they sat there, in silence, waiting for the sun to come up and maybe bring some peace of mind with it.

The morning came and Merlin didn’t wake then the afternoon came and merlin still didn’t wake. It was late in the evening when some were sleeping and some were pacing, agitated when the room with Merlin banged open (effectively waking up the sleeping knights) and Jorden stepped out. He told them that Merlin was awake and that he had business to attend to in the village in the same breath, before rushing out with his medical kit. Shouting instructions about feeding and not letting him get out of bed. Arthur looked at him go, incredulously.

There was a very static silence in the room. Merlin was awake, they could hear him grunting and mumbling through the open door, but no one moved. Now that they were this close to coming face to face with the source of their sleepless night, they froze.

Arthur was gathering his courage to go to Merlin but before he could, Merlin stepped out of the room. He looked so much better than yesterday. There was colour in his cheeks and he was standing tall as if he wasn’t injured in the least. They only things that gave him away were the bandages visible through his tunic and slight favour he was giving his right side, that Arthur would have missed if he hadn’t already known of his injuries.

“Hey,” Merlin crocked, giving them a sheepish smile. Lancelot immediately materialized in front of Merlin with a cup of water, bringing it to his lips. “Not a baby, Lance,” he said before he took the cup in his hands and gulped greedily.

“You’re not supposed to be on your feet,” Arthur said when he gave the cup back to Lancelot.

“I can walk fine, thank you very much,” Merlin retorted.

“No one said you can’t, you are not supposed to,” Arthur said, his jaw clenching and unclenching at Merlin’s complete disregard for himself.

“Says who?”

“Says the healer.”

“You mean, the toad?”

Okay, Arthur was going to sidestep whatever that was. He really did not care what Jorden had done to get Merlin to dislike him in so little time. it wasn’t very hard to dislike him anyway.

“Sit down, Merlin,” Arthur said. And for once Merlin listened, sitting down gingerly on a bench close by.

A heavy silence descended upon them as Arthur struggles to put his questions into words. The other knights seemed to struggle with the same dilemma until Merlin said, “So, I don’t suppose we could all pretend the last two days never happened and make our merry way back to Camelot,” awfully cheerfully. “Or continue on the hunt, if that’s what you wish, sire.” He adds as an afterthought.

You can’t hit him up the head, he’s injured. Arthur reminded himself. He took a deep breath and said instead, “Merlin, you are almost always late to wake me in the morning. You don’t do half of the chores, I give you, on time. You make more messes than you clean up. All in all, you are possibly the worst manservant in the five kingdoms,” The knights were looking at Arthur as if he had lost his mind. Merlin was looking to him with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. “But you never take more than two days off to go to the tavern,” He raised his brow at that, letting Merlin know exactly how much he believed that story now, “and those scars look old but not old enough to be made before you came to Camelot. Meaning you’ve got them, at least some of them, while you were serving me. Only they don’t look like they could heal in two days. So, tell me, Merlin, what happened? And how did you hide it from us for so long?”

Merlin sighed. “I’ll take that as a no then,” he mumbled. Again silence. Outside Arthur could hear crickets starting their songs as night approached. Arthur would have said something but Merlin looked like he was gathering his thoughts, choosing his words. He didn’t like it, but he waited. Then He looked Arthur straight in the eyes and said, “I don’t know if you have guessed it yet but I am not afraid of dying, haven’t been for a while. So, I’ll sit here and tell you every story, no matter what it means for me, but at one condition: hear me out? I only get one chance at this and I want to tell you everything.”

I’m not going to like this, am I? Arthur thought. “Merlin if you think I’m letting you shut up before you tell me everything then you really are an idiot,” Arthur said.

“Just… give me your word, Arthur.” Merlin looked so resigned and remorseful that Arthur almost wanted to take up Merlin’s earlier offer of pretending nothing happened. Almost.

“Fine,” he gritted out. The conversation hadn’t even started yet and Arthur already didn’t like where it was going, what Merlin’s words were inferring.

“Well,” He said, his voice shaky, “the short version of the story is, I am magic and I got all these scars throughout the years fighting sorcerers.”

Arthur closed his eyes. Somewhere between Magic and sorcerers, his hand had instinctually reached the pommel of his sword.

He didn’t want to believe. He wanted to laugh and then hurl something at Merlin. He wanted to shake him and tell him he wasn’t in the mood for stupid, treasonous jokes. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. it just made too much sense for him to deny. Arthur always knew there was something about Merlin; had said so the day he had chased him through the market with a mace, had felt every time Merlin’s wisdom shone through his words making him look much older than his years, had seen every time Merlin returned from the ‘tavern’ looking like the weight of the world was upon his shoulders.

Arthur felt the anger bubbling under his skin. His head going in circles around ‘all these years’ and ‘the lies’ and ‘the betrayals’. How many more names will make the list? The list of people who had betrayed him after he had shown them nothing but trust and loyalty. Was it him? with Agravaine, Morgana and now Merlin, did he do something to inspire such back-stabbing?

It just didn’t add up. Merlin wasn’t… He hadn’t…

“You are not a sorcerer.” Arthur was sure. Because even if it made sense, it didn’t.

“I am.” Merlin sighed and Arthur remembered his word on not interrupting. But…

“No! Why would a sorcerer jump in front of the Dorocha for me? Why did you drink poison for me? Why did you help me save UTHER from Morgause? Why would a sorcerer save Uther from me?” Arthur was practically shouting till the end of it. Because every little thing from all these years was making sense; the broken branches and tripping bandits, the magical creatures that couldn’t be killed without magic, dying with a ‘lucky’ blow; Merlin, the bravest man he had ever met, hiding from bandits but walking up to a dragon with him. Everything was making sense. Everything except why?

“you answered it yourself, sire. For you. Only for you.” Merlin said timidly.

Arthur just stared. For Arthur. For the son of the man that persecuted his kind. Merlin, the sorcerer, was either trying to bullshit his way out of this or Merlin, his idiot best friend, was proving just how much of an idiot he actually was.

He could see the silence stressing Merlin out. Which just satisfied a vindictive part of him. What can he say, he was petty like that.

Merlin broke under the pressure, he started babbling, “I was born with magic. I could move objects before I could walk. I grew up with it. I didn’t choose it. It chose me. And then Will found out. So, Mother sent me to Gaius. My magic was getting out of control anyway. She sent me to Gaius to get it under control-“

Okay, a lot of things there but the one that stung was…

“Gaius knew.” It wasn’t a question because Arthur wasn’t surprised. The tavern excuse started working because of Gaius after all.

Merlin, however, snapped his mouth shut, his eyes widening into big round saucers, “No, he doesn’t.”

“No more lies, Merlin,” Arthur waited for Merlin to agree. He didn’t. There was something in Merlin’s eyes. Something that was more than a fear of outing Gaius.

“Who else knows?”

Merlin looked a little to the left then jerked his head down. There were only two people on his left: Percival and Lancelot.

“Lancelot,” Arthur stated again, not really a question. At least his earlier protests made sense now.

Merlin was panicking, Arthur could feel it, more than see it, “A- Arthur,” Anything else he wanted to say was cut off by Lancelot stepping in front, with his back to Merlin and took up a protective stance. At least he had the sense to look pained about the situation.

Then Gwaine did the same, except he didn’t look pained, rather he looked angry… with Arthur.

“You knew too?”

“No,” Gwaine said simply.

“Then-“

“I don’t care.”

There have been many times when Arthur has been Jealous of Gwaine’s… way of thinking; Carefree yet definitive. He didn’t care for much, never had opinions for most anything but the meagre things that he did (Arthur knew only three of those; Mead, Merlin and fuck nobility), he would throw everything to the air to stand up for it.

Arthur wanted to say that he was angry with them for breaking their vows. They were, after all, sworn to Arthur, not a certain idiot. But Arthur was distracted. Merlin’s earlier words were catching up to him.

Merlin was magic. He was born with it. And Arthur knew, he knew, without a doubt, there was not a single bad bone in Merlin’s body. Nobody was born evil but they could be born with magic apparently. And that meant, Oh, Gods, that meant Arthur had… all those people… all those children. Arthur’s hand tightened around his sword hilt, the only indication of his turmoil.

Merlin stood up and pushed through Gwaine and Lancelot, to stand in front of them.

“Look, I’m not even afraid of the pain, but I have I have been told about Camelot’s way of dealing with sorcerers since I knew what death meant if not even before that and I have an unreasonable fear of it,” Merlin said, eyeing Arthur’s hand on his sword. “So, if not for our friendship then for all the times I have saved your life, could you do me a favour, not the pyre?” Arthur saw what he was doing. Taking the attention away from the knights behind him. Protecting them through his death. But his words still hit and they still stung. Because beneath all the protectiveness and the panic there was resignation. Merlin truly believed he wasn’t getting out of this alive.

Arthur dropped his hand from the sword.

Silence.

Merlin seemed to think he needed to do more convincing, “I wouldn’t even die from it. I’ll just keep burning, and chocking and melting for as long as the fire goes on. Or maybe I’ll turn to ash like any other normal human but then when the fire ends, I’ll be resurrected. It would be quite a waste of firewood.”

“Merlin,” Arthur chocked out, Merlin’s words painting a very vivid picture in his head, and his head supplying more. Merlin, bound to the pyre, screaming, begging Arthur for help. The fire engulfing him. The smell of singed hair reaching Arthur, soon followed by that of melting flesh. Then there is the other image: Merlin, tied to the pyre doing nothing to escape. His eyes flashing golden and the pyre setting itself on fire. Merlin looking him straight in the eyes and smiling.

Arthur gulped.

“I know you hate me right now but I know you are not a sadist. You wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. I wouldn’t mind the chopping block but that wouldn’t kill me either. And I really don’t want to know if I would have to grow a new head… or re-join the chopped one, to come back to life,” Merlin ploughed on.

“Merlin, stop,” Arthur heard the slight quiver in his own voice. He could hear the knights behind him shifting uncomfortably. He could see the horrified looks, Percival, Gwaine and Lancelot were giving him. Arthur had tried to keep a blank face at the start of this mess but he wasn’t sure what his face was doing as of now. Merlin was like their little brother. The images of him burning or his head rolling, detached from his body were… unwelcome. And the idiot was still talking.

“-Really the only thing that can kill me is your sword. Excalibur. It was forged in a dragon’s breath. Only a weapon like that could kill people like me. I will have to ask you another favour after I’m gone don’t let that sword get onto another’s hand. It was made for you Arthur and only for you. In the hands of a wrong person, it can do great evil.”

“Merlin, I’m not going to kill you. stop talking!” Arthur shouted. why would you tell me that? Why would you give me the sword that can kill you, Arthur thought. Gods, the word idiot really wasn’t enough for him.

“Oh! banishment then? On the pain of death? Yeah, well you might as well kill me then because I’m not leaving your side until the day I die… whether you want me or not. I had no purpose for all this insane amount of magic before I met you and I’m not going back to that… I’m not! I-,” Merlin was getting hysterical now. Gulping deep breaths, that couldn’t be doing any wonders for his wounds.

“Merlin, I’m not going to banish you either.”

Merlin froze, not even breathing for a moment. “I don’t… you wouldn’t…? but… not even…,” He stammered.

“I think you broke him, sire,” Leon said from behind him.

“Merlin, did it ever occur to you that I might just accept you when the time came for you to tell me about your magic?” Arthur inquired, keeping the hurt from his voice to the best of his ability. No one seemed fooled though.

“You are not mad at me?” Merlin said after another minute of stammering.

“Oh, I am. Trust me I’m. But we are going to be here for as long as you are not fit enough to ride. So, you are going to tell me everything. And if it goes how I think it’s going to go, then after it all, we r going to head back and I’m going to do some of my own research and then review some laws,” Arthur said and then took a seat as far away from Merlin as possible to ease Gwaine and Lancelot.

“Now, sit,” Arthur commanded and waited for Merlin to settle, “Start talking.”