[Fic] When All Else Fades (Merlin/Arthur, PG-13) Part I
Fic Title: When All Else Fades
Author: unbidden_truth
Artist: clotpolelis
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, references to past Arthur/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7000
Warnings: none
Summary: "Arthur didn't think there was more he could lose after banishing Gwen. But revelations are tricky things and the truth that was important at first glance wasn't the one that mattered in the end." Ambiguously set in early S4. Written for merlinreversebb
Author's Note: Thank you to my lovely artist, clotpolelis for bearing with all my procrastination and being wonderfully supportive. I had a wonderful time working with you! Also thank you, thank you to chosenfire28 for running such a fantastic fest and for the extra amnesty! Also thank you to my dear P, who gave this a quick glance through even if she's never seen the show. This fic was at times difficult, is way more trope-y, schmoopy than I wanted---I still am not sure how I feel about Arthur's POV--- but it was an interesting ride. Should also note I kind of played fast and loose on the timeline and events in early S4.
Art link: Art Masterlist
Fic Link: AO3
“We're lost, aren't we?”
“We’re not lost Merlin. We’re going in the right direction,” Arthur said exasperatedly as he paused to survey his surroundings, “We just have to keep walking down this path.”
The leaves crunched loudly beneath their feet as they slowly walked down a half-beaten trail. Every few seconds, Arthur heard Merlin languorously breathing behind him and the worry he might have been hurt from the fight earlier made him itch to check up on Merlin. Trying not to be obvious, Arthur shifted to glance back but stumbled as Merlin nearly walked into him.
“That tree, didn’t we pass that earlier?”
Arthur turned, needing to duck to avoid hitting his head on a low-hanging branch. It was familiar. He swore under his breath when he saw the familiar mark etched onto the bark. One that he had marked earlier with a knife in hopes that the knights would see it.
“I think we went past this way already,” Merlin continued, as he leaned down, hands clutching at his side. Again the worry reared it’s head, but Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin would tell him the truth even if he did ask.
"Are you okay?"
"I already told you, I'm fine. Besides you should worry about the fact that we're lost ."
Glancing back at the tree and as much as he didn’t want to agree, Merlin was right. This was maybe the third or fourth time they had walked past that oak tree. Arthur wasn’t too sure---he had lost count awhile back.
“We aren't lost,” Arthur repeated irritably as he resisted the urge to look back at Merlin as he continued up the trail past the tree. Even without looking, Arthur knew the expression that was on Merlin’s face.
They've been wandering on the trail for the past three hours. And by now they should have come across rest of the knights. Somehow they had become separated from everyone when the bandits had waylaid them. The skirmish had forced them to move away from the group. Arthur had ended up chasing down one of the men further away from the fight. Merlin, who had been told several times to stay back followed him. The bandit had been a better tracker than Arthur and within the hour they had lost track of him. But by that time they had managed to lose everyone else as well.
It was supposed to have been just a routine hunt. Merlin had been pestering him for months and Arthur had finally, albeit grudgingly, agreed when Merlin said he was acting like a lovelorn fool. The hunt had seemed like a good idea. Arthur couldn't remember the last time, he was happy to be out in the sun, being with the knights, and listening to Merlin's grumbling. Since before Guinevere had left.
Gwen- Arthur frowned. Thinking of Gwen reminded him of things he didn't want to think about even as the sharp ache of loss that seemed to have been lodged somewhere in his chest ever since he had exiled Gwen flared.
It had been almost a year---nine months and three days, his mind helpfully supplied since that day he let her go. And still the pain was as sharp as it was then.
Shaking his head, he waited for Merlin, who had been suddenly quiet the past half an hour, to catch up. Uneasily Arthur shifted as he surreptitiously glanced at Merlin . One of the men had managed to swipe a hit at Merlin before Arthur could take him down. When he had tried to look at the cut Merlin had waved him off.
The sun was setting low beyond the forest and the temperature was starting to drop quickly. Arthur shivered as another gust of wind blew, his armor doing little to protect him from the bitter cold.
Glancing back towards Merlin, hunched over miserably, right hand pressed to his left side, Arthur paused, “How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” came the terse reply.
“We'll see if we can find a cave or at least an overhanging rock so we can rest for the night. At the least it'll protect us from the wind.”
Merlin didn't respond and Arthur glanced back again, brows furrowed, just in time to see Merlin stumble.
Grabbing him before he fell down, Arthur steadied him as Merlin winced. Arthur frowned as he stepped back, shocked as he stared down at his hands sticky with blood
Looking sharply at Merlin, he crouched low, “Idiot, you said you were fine.”
“It's only a small scratch.”
“A little scratch! The right side of your tunic is completely soaked in blood.”
Merlin let out a hiss of pain as Arthur tried to gently look over the wound, “It's not as bad as it looks.”
“Merlin, you're barely able to walk much less stand,” Arthur said, angry as he stood up, “We should probably break for camp anyway. And this,” he continued gesturing to the the clump of trees, “should be good for the night.”
While Merlin staggered down to sit on on a fallen log, Arthur managed to get the fire going before tearing several strips of fabric from his cape. They had little water, the flagon nearly empty and the best Arthur could do was bandage the wound.
“If it was daytime, I would make you pick some herbs,” Merlin mused as he compliantly let Arthur bandage him.
Arthur was ready to snap back, but paused. Merlin was too pale even in the growing dark, his forehead beading with sweat with what Arthur was beginning to think was fever despite the cold.
“You would enjoy that, wouldn't you,” he said instead, taking off his cloak to wrap around Merlin, “Figures you would like to order people around.”
Merlin sputtered indignantly, “Says the King prat himself.”
“Hey!” but Arthur didn't press further, because if only for a minute some color had come back to Merlin's cheeks.
After a few minutes, Merlin shifted, “I'm glad, you know.”
“You're glad?” Arthur asked incredulously.
“Well not the whole getting lost and stabbed part. But this. I didn't think I would miss hunting with you, but I did.”
He gaped at him for a minute before recovering.
“You know what that means, right?” Arthur asked amused.
“I know,” Merlin said, resignation evident in his voice even as his lips curved up.
It was strange. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he and Merlin had teased back and forth. The past year had been a blur of kingly duties and trying to avoid marriage alliances the council kept throwing at him. But being here in the woods, huddled against the fire, perhaps a little cold and worried (but when did Merlin not worry him?) was something Arthur didn't know he missed, until now.
::::
The sudden quietness of early morning bird song was what woke Arthur to the intruders. The voices sounded familiar and with a growing sense of alarm, he woke Merlin.
Covering Merlin's mouth before he could say anything, he said quietly, “The bandits.”
He nodded his head in understanding and Arthur pulled away his hand. “Stay behind me. And if you see a break, run for it.”
Merlin frowned and leaned in close to argue. Before he could a word in edgewise Arthur covered his mouth again.
“You’re injured,” Arthur said angrily, pitching his voice low, “For once, can’t you not listen to me?.”
Merlin glared at him but when it looked like he wouldn't argue with him, Arthur moved, pulling his sword free.
The first bandit dropped like a fly when Arthur came up behind him, the second fell with a loud scream. Then it was mad chaos. Much to Arthur's chagrin, a minute later Merlin was no longer behind him. There were too many of them, and for a moment Arthur thought that this was it. That maybe Death had caught up to him after all.
There was a loud whoosh, and suddenly one of the men slammed against a tree while another tumbled.
In midst of it all, Merlin stood, hands poised in the air, his face resolute.
Idiot, just what does he think he's doing? Arthur tried to fight his way to Merlin's side, but there were too many of them.
Between the trees, Arthur stared as Merlin's eyes turned gold. As strange words fell from Merlin's lips, the bandits flew across the air, hitting branches before falling to the ground knocked unconscious.
He has---magic, Arthur recoiled. He lied. All this time. And I thought I could trust him. Merlin glanced at him, and Arthur was taken aback by the fear and sadness he saw in those unnaturally gold eyes.
Too stunned to move, Arthur watched as Merlin took care of rest of the bandits quickly with the strange harsh words and hands moving.
He finally found his voice as he watched in horror as one of the bandits snuck up behind Merlin, “Merlin! Watch out!”
For a second he thought Merlin had avoided the attack. Merlin had ducked and again with strange words the bandit had flown back, slamming against a tree before dropping with a loud thud.
Merlin turned again, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at Arthur before falling.
Arthur blamed it on instinct that he managed to reach Merlin before he hit his head on something.
Even as anger, betrayal and fear (from Merlin? for Merlin?) made him feel lightheaded. Arthur clutched Merlin close as he noticed that Merlin had not been lucky: the bandit had gotten him across the shoulder. While the cut wasn't deep, Arthur didn't think any more blood loss would help. Merlin's shallow breathing only confirmed Arthur's fears.
Merlin looked up at him, blinking at him confusedly, “Are you okay? You're not hurt are you?”
Arthur's heart twisted at the concern.
“Dammit, Merlin! I told you not to get involved in the fights.”
“I had to protect you. I promised I would.”
“I can protect myself,” Arthur retorted angrily as he pulled Merlin closer. He was worried despite telling himself that he should be angry at how cold Merlin felt to touch.
“No you can't.” But before he could say anything, Merlin reached up, hand stilling when Arthur flinched back.
Voice defeated, “You saw.” And for some inexplicable reason, despite his anger and fear, it made Arthur want to reach down and reassure Merlin.
“Who wouldn’t see the hands waving around, people flying into trees and the fact that your eyes turned gold,” Arthur muttered, fingers clenching against Merlin’s thin tunic as he remembered the sight.
“I wanted to tell you. I always did but---,” Merlin said, his voice ragged, breaking.
When Arthur didn't reply, he continued, “I wanted to tell you but I was too scared. But it was all for you, Arthur. All for you. I would've done anything to protect you. I know this won't excuse anything. Just remember--,” Merlin voice cracked, “that I would've never used it against you or Camelot.”
“You lied Merlin. All these years, you lied to me. And you're a sorcerer.” Arthur said bitterly, closing his eyes briefly as if perhaps he could pretend that this was a dream. That he had imagined all of this. He felt hollowed out, as if everything inside of him had been scraped out leaving him bleeding. He looked away from Merlin in anger, trying to make sense of his newfound knowledge.
After a few minutes of thought, he asked softly and with a tinge of hurt, “How do you expect me to believe you? All these years. You never trusted me.”
When there was no response and Arthur glanced down only to see that Merlin was paler still and barely conscious He had lost so much blood, hidden mostly by his dark clothing.
“Merlin!”
Arthur cursed as he shifted Merlin panicking.
It took him a few minutes before he could find a shallow pulse, heart beating rapidly he sighed in relief.
“You better not die before I deal with you.”
His father’s voice about evil sorcerers echoed in his ears, but Arthur ignored it as he wrapped his cloak more firmly around Merlin. The words his father used to paint sorcerers was so starkly different from the man he held. It was hard to equate the stories he had heard about terrible sorcerers with Merlin, who looked fragile and breakable in his arms. Arthur couldn’t imagine Merlin doing the things his father said, but Merlin had lied to him. Worse, he wasn’t sure if he felt more angry at the betrayal or hurt because Merlin hadn’t trusted him.
Even if Merlin was a sorcerer. Even if there was the chance that he had betrayed Arthur. That all could wait until they were back in Camelot.
Shifting, Arthur lifted Merlin up easily.
Taking a painful swallow at how lightweight Merlin felt, he continued, “What have I told you about being properly fed to be a King's manservant.”
In the past Arthur had ended up sharing his meal with Merlin or at least Merlin would’ve grabbed food from his plate, insisting it was because Arthur was gaining weight. But thinking back in the past year, he couldn’t remember the last time he and Merlin had eaten together.
“It’s not my job to make sure you eat. You should know better than that.”
Slowly as he walked carefully through the woods, the minutes had faded into hours and the hours faded into the late afternoon. Arthur lost all sense of time.
The sun was beating down on him as he staggered each step, holding Merlin close. Merlin's wounds had reopened and had left a brown residue against Arthur's armour as if a second layer of protection. That was how the rest of the knights found him. If Arthur hadn’t been distracted, he probably would’ve found amusement on the look of horror on his men’s faces.
As Leon and Gwaine rushed forward to take Merlin, Arthur flinched back. The men shared an uneasy look but stepped back.
With a few terse comments to help him onto a horse and make haste, it was only the thought of Merlin dying that kept him moving. Even after the steady objections of rest of the knights to let one of them ride with Merlin, Arthur refused. He cradled Merlin against his chest as he tried to steady his horse, not sure whether he was protecting Merlin from them or the knights from Merlin.
::::
Riding back to the castle was a quiet, urgent affair. He and the knights had pushed their horses to near exhaustion to make it back before nightfall.
Once at the castle and allowing Percival and Gwaine to carry Merlin up to Gaius and issuing orders as he staggered down from his horse been almost a whirlwind affair. But despite the exhaustion, Arthur managed to check up on Merlin.
“How is he?”
Gaius’s voice was strained as he finished bandaging Merlin, the worry causing the wrinkles on his skin to deepen, “I’m worried, Sire. I’m not sure if he’ll make it.”
With a sharp exhale, Arthur leaned heavily against the table, anger and fear making him stagger, “Do all that you can Gaius.”
“Of course, Sire. But it will do us no good if you passed out here as well,” Gaius said kindly and it took all of Arthur’s last resolve, not to yell at him. Fingers clenching, Arthur looked at Merlin. And if it were even possible, but Merlin looked even more fragile than when they were running the horses ragged to get back to Camelot. It reminded him too much of the time Merlin had nearly died to save him. How many times has he saved me without me knowing it?
Nodding to Gaius, Arthur walked slowly back to his chambers. The anger, but mostly the overwhelming sense of fear and guilt finally caught up to him as he fell onto his bed exhausted and into a fitful sleep.
::::
The next morning Arthur leaned against the door of Gaius' work chambers, torn between checking up on Merlin and not wanting to know how he was doing.
As he turned to walk into the room, Gwaine's voice stopped him.
“How is he doing?”
“The wound is severe, but that's not what I'm worried about.”
Arthur tensed as he heard the worry in Gaius' voice.
“What do you mean?”
“After Guinevere left---” Gaius paused and Arthur pushed aside the wave of grief that washed upon him as he heard her name.
“You know how the King has been… Merlin's run himself ragged looking after the King for the past few months... I'm not sure if he is strong enough now to heal quickly. And the longer it takes the wound to heal, the greater the chance that he'll get an infection.”
“That would be Merlin,” Gwaine said, voice fond, “Sometimes I don't even understand him. If Arthur only knew how much Merlin cared for---”
Gaius sighed, “I hope that one day he will.”
“He will Gaius.”
“Bring me that bucket of hot water will you Gwaine, I need to make more poultice before the day’s up.”
Arthur slumped against the door. It had always been Merlin, hadn't it? Arthur wondered, guilt prickling past the feelings of betrayal and anger. Again he thought about past incidents and wondered when else Merlin had played a role in changing things in his favor.
After overhearing Gaius’s and Gwaine’s conversation, it took Arthur several hours, past supper time before he had the courage to go see Merlin. Gaius had stepped out for the moment and Percival had nodded to Arthur, clasping him in the arm as he left him alone with Merlin.
Unsure what to do, Arthur pulled up a chair from Gaius’s workroom over.
In the hours that he had seen Merlin last, Merlin's skin was even more flushed, cover with a sheen of sweat from the fever. Arthur hesitantly grabbed a washcloth from the table, dipping it into the water basin before bringing it to wipe Merlin's brow.
“You idiot, why didn't you tell me?” His fingers shook, and he couldn't tell whether it was from anger or from worry.
“You didn't think I would---” He closed his eyes against the image of fear in Merlin's eyes. He still could hear the cries of sorcerers being burned at the stake, the acrid taste of burnt flesh and smoke still too familiar on his tongue. Things had changed in the past year, but the memories of past burnings were still too vivid.
The image of Merlin dying on the very stakes that countless other sorcerers had died--bile rose thick and burning up his throat. Taking a deep breath, Arthur tried not to think of what could’ve happened if things had been different. Would I have done the right thing if he had told me the truth from the beginning?
He never thought anything would hurt as much as his father dying or banishing Gwen. But Merlin had always been the exception.
“What the hell are you doing here Merlin? You could've died if someone had found out.”
“I'm not my father,” Arthur said haltingly, “I've learned that in the past year that not everything he did was right. And I'm still learning that there's more to everything than I once thought.”
“You of all people should know that,” he said softly, his fingers reaching up to brush Merlin's hair to the side.
He sat for another hour in the dark once the candle sputtered out, watching carefully as Merlin’s chest rose and fell with every breath. Each one calming his fears.
::::
A week, then another passed but Merlin showed no signs of improving. Arthur found himself pacing near the corridor of Gaius’s rooms whenever he had time away from his duty. Early evenings were spent slumped on the chair by Merlin’s side.
Perhaps more disconcerting than finding George opening his curtains when he blinked his eyes against the streaming morning light that first morning, was the quiet. After Gwen had left, it had seemed Merlin was determined to fill her absence with clatter about the daily goings around the castle and in the lower city. The first few days, Arthur found himself pausing as if waiting for Merlin to find him, his ears waiting to hear Merlin’s voice. Despite his anger, which was slowly waning as days past, he missed Merlin. He missed Merlin’’s grumbling behind his back at council meetings and the loud clatter that greeted him whenever he found Merlin waiting for him. Arthur even missed the late breakfast and the messy disarray his rooms were more often than not when Merlin was around.
A little over three weeks later, Gaius brought the news that Merlin had awaken, but the sharp look the elder physician gave Arthur when he delivered the news confirmed the suspicions Arthur had-- that Gaius had always known about Merlin’s magic.
Arthur didn’t rush immediately to check on Merlin, even though he still found himself pacing in the corridor near Gaius’s chambers. Instead he questioned Gaius about everything he knew about magic. Adding the other pieces of all the incidents that happened in the past. Days passed, a week then another, and still Arthur found himself making excuses. Excuses that were falling flat with rest of the knights, who didn’t understand why Arthur refused to check up on Merlin. Gwaine constantly harassed him and even Leon was starting to give him disapproving looks. Each day he would tell himself that he would check. That today would be the day. But every time, he would talk himself out of going to see Merlin. It was as if things would shatter and it was easier to pretend this way.
::::
Part II
Author: unbidden_truth
Artist: clotpolelis
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, references to past Arthur/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7000
Warnings: none
Summary: "Arthur didn't think there was more he could lose after banishing Gwen. But revelations are tricky things and the truth that was important at first glance wasn't the one that mattered in the end." Ambiguously set in early S4. Written for merlinreversebb
Author's Note: Thank you to my lovely artist, clotpolelis for bearing with all my procrastination and being wonderfully supportive. I had a wonderful time working with you! Also thank you, thank you to chosenfire28 for running such a fantastic fest and for the extra amnesty! Also thank you to my dear P, who gave this a quick glance through even if she's never seen the show. This fic was at times difficult, is way more trope-y, schmoopy than I wanted---I still am not sure how I feel about Arthur's POV--- but it was an interesting ride. Should also note I kind of played fast and loose on the timeline and events in early S4.
Art link: Art Masterlist
Fic Link: AO3
“We're lost, aren't we?”
“We’re not lost Merlin. We’re going in the right direction,” Arthur said exasperatedly as he paused to survey his surroundings, “We just have to keep walking down this path.”
The leaves crunched loudly beneath their feet as they slowly walked down a half-beaten trail. Every few seconds, Arthur heard Merlin languorously breathing behind him and the worry he might have been hurt from the fight earlier made him itch to check up on Merlin. Trying not to be obvious, Arthur shifted to glance back but stumbled as Merlin nearly walked into him.
“That tree, didn’t we pass that earlier?”
Arthur turned, needing to duck to avoid hitting his head on a low-hanging branch. It was familiar. He swore under his breath when he saw the familiar mark etched onto the bark. One that he had marked earlier with a knife in hopes that the knights would see it.
“I think we went past this way already,” Merlin continued, as he leaned down, hands clutching at his side. Again the worry reared it’s head, but Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin would tell him the truth even if he did ask.
"Are you okay?"
"I already told you, I'm fine. Besides you should worry about the fact that we're lost ."
Glancing back at the tree and as much as he didn’t want to agree, Merlin was right. This was maybe the third or fourth time they had walked past that oak tree. Arthur wasn’t too sure---he had lost count awhile back.
“We aren't lost,” Arthur repeated irritably as he resisted the urge to look back at Merlin as he continued up the trail past the tree. Even without looking, Arthur knew the expression that was on Merlin’s face.
They've been wandering on the trail for the past three hours. And by now they should have come across rest of the knights. Somehow they had become separated from everyone when the bandits had waylaid them. The skirmish had forced them to move away from the group. Arthur had ended up chasing down one of the men further away from the fight. Merlin, who had been told several times to stay back followed him. The bandit had been a better tracker than Arthur and within the hour they had lost track of him. But by that time they had managed to lose everyone else as well.
It was supposed to have been just a routine hunt. Merlin had been pestering him for months and Arthur had finally, albeit grudgingly, agreed when Merlin said he was acting like a lovelorn fool. The hunt had seemed like a good idea. Arthur couldn't remember the last time, he was happy to be out in the sun, being with the knights, and listening to Merlin's grumbling. Since before Guinevere had left.
Gwen- Arthur frowned. Thinking of Gwen reminded him of things he didn't want to think about even as the sharp ache of loss that seemed to have been lodged somewhere in his chest ever since he had exiled Gwen flared.
It had been almost a year---nine months and three days, his mind helpfully supplied since that day he let her go. And still the pain was as sharp as it was then.
Shaking his head, he waited for Merlin, who had been suddenly quiet the past half an hour, to catch up. Uneasily Arthur shifted as he surreptitiously glanced at Merlin . One of the men had managed to swipe a hit at Merlin before Arthur could take him down. When he had tried to look at the cut Merlin had waved him off.
The sun was setting low beyond the forest and the temperature was starting to drop quickly. Arthur shivered as another gust of wind blew, his armor doing little to protect him from the bitter cold.
Glancing back towards Merlin, hunched over miserably, right hand pressed to his left side, Arthur paused, “How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” came the terse reply.
“We'll see if we can find a cave or at least an overhanging rock so we can rest for the night. At the least it'll protect us from the wind.”
Merlin didn't respond and Arthur glanced back again, brows furrowed, just in time to see Merlin stumble.
Grabbing him before he fell down, Arthur steadied him as Merlin winced. Arthur frowned as he stepped back, shocked as he stared down at his hands sticky with blood
Looking sharply at Merlin, he crouched low, “Idiot, you said you were fine.”
“It's only a small scratch.”
“A little scratch! The right side of your tunic is completely soaked in blood.”
Merlin let out a hiss of pain as Arthur tried to gently look over the wound, “It's not as bad as it looks.”
“Merlin, you're barely able to walk much less stand,” Arthur said, angry as he stood up, “We should probably break for camp anyway. And this,” he continued gesturing to the the clump of trees, “should be good for the night.”
While Merlin staggered down to sit on on a fallen log, Arthur managed to get the fire going before tearing several strips of fabric from his cape. They had little water, the flagon nearly empty and the best Arthur could do was bandage the wound.
“If it was daytime, I would make you pick some herbs,” Merlin mused as he compliantly let Arthur bandage him.
Arthur was ready to snap back, but paused. Merlin was too pale even in the growing dark, his forehead beading with sweat with what Arthur was beginning to think was fever despite the cold.
“You would enjoy that, wouldn't you,” he said instead, taking off his cloak to wrap around Merlin, “Figures you would like to order people around.”
Merlin sputtered indignantly, “Says the King prat himself.”
“Hey!” but Arthur didn't press further, because if only for a minute some color had come back to Merlin's cheeks.
After a few minutes, Merlin shifted, “I'm glad, you know.”
“You're glad?” Arthur asked incredulously.
“Well not the whole getting lost and stabbed part. But this. I didn't think I would miss hunting with you, but I did.”
He gaped at him for a minute before recovering.
“You know what that means, right?” Arthur asked amused.
“I know,” Merlin said, resignation evident in his voice even as his lips curved up.
It was strange. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he and Merlin had teased back and forth. The past year had been a blur of kingly duties and trying to avoid marriage alliances the council kept throwing at him. But being here in the woods, huddled against the fire, perhaps a little cold and worried (but when did Merlin not worry him?) was something Arthur didn't know he missed, until now.
::::
The sudden quietness of early morning bird song was what woke Arthur to the intruders. The voices sounded familiar and with a growing sense of alarm, he woke Merlin.
Covering Merlin's mouth before he could say anything, he said quietly, “The bandits.”
He nodded his head in understanding and Arthur pulled away his hand. “Stay behind me. And if you see a break, run for it.”
Merlin frowned and leaned in close to argue. Before he could a word in edgewise Arthur covered his mouth again.
“You’re injured,” Arthur said angrily, pitching his voice low, “For once, can’t you not listen to me?.”
Merlin glared at him but when it looked like he wouldn't argue with him, Arthur moved, pulling his sword free.
The first bandit dropped like a fly when Arthur came up behind him, the second fell with a loud scream. Then it was mad chaos. Much to Arthur's chagrin, a minute later Merlin was no longer behind him. There were too many of them, and for a moment Arthur thought that this was it. That maybe Death had caught up to him after all.
There was a loud whoosh, and suddenly one of the men slammed against a tree while another tumbled.
In midst of it all, Merlin stood, hands poised in the air, his face resolute.
Idiot, just what does he think he's doing? Arthur tried to fight his way to Merlin's side, but there were too many of them.
Between the trees, Arthur stared as Merlin's eyes turned gold. As strange words fell from Merlin's lips, the bandits flew across the air, hitting branches before falling to the ground knocked unconscious.
He has---magic, Arthur recoiled. He lied. All this time. And I thought I could trust him. Merlin glanced at him, and Arthur was taken aback by the fear and sadness he saw in those unnaturally gold eyes.
Too stunned to move, Arthur watched as Merlin took care of rest of the bandits quickly with the strange harsh words and hands moving.
He finally found his voice as he watched in horror as one of the bandits snuck up behind Merlin, “Merlin! Watch out!”
For a second he thought Merlin had avoided the attack. Merlin had ducked and again with strange words the bandit had flown back, slamming against a tree before dropping with a loud thud.
Merlin turned again, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at Arthur before falling.
Arthur blamed it on instinct that he managed to reach Merlin before he hit his head on something.
Even as anger, betrayal and fear (from Merlin? for Merlin?) made him feel lightheaded. Arthur clutched Merlin close as he noticed that Merlin had not been lucky: the bandit had gotten him across the shoulder. While the cut wasn't deep, Arthur didn't think any more blood loss would help. Merlin's shallow breathing only confirmed Arthur's fears.
Merlin looked up at him, blinking at him confusedly, “Are you okay? You're not hurt are you?”
Arthur's heart twisted at the concern.
“Dammit, Merlin! I told you not to get involved in the fights.”
“I had to protect you. I promised I would.”
“I can protect myself,” Arthur retorted angrily as he pulled Merlin closer. He was worried despite telling himself that he should be angry at how cold Merlin felt to touch.
“No you can't.” But before he could say anything, Merlin reached up, hand stilling when Arthur flinched back.
Voice defeated, “You saw.” And for some inexplicable reason, despite his anger and fear, it made Arthur want to reach down and reassure Merlin.
“Who wouldn’t see the hands waving around, people flying into trees and the fact that your eyes turned gold,” Arthur muttered, fingers clenching against Merlin’s thin tunic as he remembered the sight.
“I wanted to tell you. I always did but---,” Merlin said, his voice ragged, breaking.
When Arthur didn't reply, he continued, “I wanted to tell you but I was too scared. But it was all for you, Arthur. All for you. I would've done anything to protect you. I know this won't excuse anything. Just remember--,” Merlin voice cracked, “that I would've never used it against you or Camelot.”
“You lied Merlin. All these years, you lied to me. And you're a sorcerer.” Arthur said bitterly, closing his eyes briefly as if perhaps he could pretend that this was a dream. That he had imagined all of this. He felt hollowed out, as if everything inside of him had been scraped out leaving him bleeding. He looked away from Merlin in anger, trying to make sense of his newfound knowledge.
After a few minutes of thought, he asked softly and with a tinge of hurt, “How do you expect me to believe you? All these years. You never trusted me.”
When there was no response and Arthur glanced down only to see that Merlin was paler still and barely conscious He had lost so much blood, hidden mostly by his dark clothing.
“Merlin!”
Arthur cursed as he shifted Merlin panicking.
It took him a few minutes before he could find a shallow pulse, heart beating rapidly he sighed in relief.
“You better not die before I deal with you.”
His father’s voice about evil sorcerers echoed in his ears, but Arthur ignored it as he wrapped his cloak more firmly around Merlin. The words his father used to paint sorcerers was so starkly different from the man he held. It was hard to equate the stories he had heard about terrible sorcerers with Merlin, who looked fragile and breakable in his arms. Arthur couldn’t imagine Merlin doing the things his father said, but Merlin had lied to him. Worse, he wasn’t sure if he felt more angry at the betrayal or hurt because Merlin hadn’t trusted him.
Even if Merlin was a sorcerer. Even if there was the chance that he had betrayed Arthur. That all could wait until they were back in Camelot.
Shifting, Arthur lifted Merlin up easily.
Taking a painful swallow at how lightweight Merlin felt, he continued, “What have I told you about being properly fed to be a King's manservant.”
In the past Arthur had ended up sharing his meal with Merlin or at least Merlin would’ve grabbed food from his plate, insisting it was because Arthur was gaining weight. But thinking back in the past year, he couldn’t remember the last time he and Merlin had eaten together.
“It’s not my job to make sure you eat. You should know better than that.”
Slowly as he walked carefully through the woods, the minutes had faded into hours and the hours faded into the late afternoon. Arthur lost all sense of time.
The sun was beating down on him as he staggered each step, holding Merlin close. Merlin's wounds had reopened and had left a brown residue against Arthur's armour as if a second layer of protection. That was how the rest of the knights found him. If Arthur hadn’t been distracted, he probably would’ve found amusement on the look of horror on his men’s faces.
As Leon and Gwaine rushed forward to take Merlin, Arthur flinched back. The men shared an uneasy look but stepped back.
With a few terse comments to help him onto a horse and make haste, it was only the thought of Merlin dying that kept him moving. Even after the steady objections of rest of the knights to let one of them ride with Merlin, Arthur refused. He cradled Merlin against his chest as he tried to steady his horse, not sure whether he was protecting Merlin from them or the knights from Merlin.
::::
Riding back to the castle was a quiet, urgent affair. He and the knights had pushed their horses to near exhaustion to make it back before nightfall.
Once at the castle and allowing Percival and Gwaine to carry Merlin up to Gaius and issuing orders as he staggered down from his horse been almost a whirlwind affair. But despite the exhaustion, Arthur managed to check up on Merlin.
“How is he?”
Gaius’s voice was strained as he finished bandaging Merlin, the worry causing the wrinkles on his skin to deepen, “I’m worried, Sire. I’m not sure if he’ll make it.”
With a sharp exhale, Arthur leaned heavily against the table, anger and fear making him stagger, “Do all that you can Gaius.”
“Of course, Sire. But it will do us no good if you passed out here as well,” Gaius said kindly and it took all of Arthur’s last resolve, not to yell at him. Fingers clenching, Arthur looked at Merlin. And if it were even possible, but Merlin looked even more fragile than when they were running the horses ragged to get back to Camelot. It reminded him too much of the time Merlin had nearly died to save him. How many times has he saved me without me knowing it?
Nodding to Gaius, Arthur walked slowly back to his chambers. The anger, but mostly the overwhelming sense of fear and guilt finally caught up to him as he fell onto his bed exhausted and into a fitful sleep.
::::
The next morning Arthur leaned against the door of Gaius' work chambers, torn between checking up on Merlin and not wanting to know how he was doing.
As he turned to walk into the room, Gwaine's voice stopped him.
“How is he doing?”
“The wound is severe, but that's not what I'm worried about.”
Arthur tensed as he heard the worry in Gaius' voice.
“What do you mean?”
“After Guinevere left---” Gaius paused and Arthur pushed aside the wave of grief that washed upon him as he heard her name.
“You know how the King has been… Merlin's run himself ragged looking after the King for the past few months... I'm not sure if he is strong enough now to heal quickly. And the longer it takes the wound to heal, the greater the chance that he'll get an infection.”
“That would be Merlin,” Gwaine said, voice fond, “Sometimes I don't even understand him. If Arthur only knew how much Merlin cared for---”
Gaius sighed, “I hope that one day he will.”
“He will Gaius.”
“Bring me that bucket of hot water will you Gwaine, I need to make more poultice before the day’s up.”
Arthur slumped against the door. It had always been Merlin, hadn't it? Arthur wondered, guilt prickling past the feelings of betrayal and anger. Again he thought about past incidents and wondered when else Merlin had played a role in changing things in his favor.
After overhearing Gaius’s and Gwaine’s conversation, it took Arthur several hours, past supper time before he had the courage to go see Merlin. Gaius had stepped out for the moment and Percival had nodded to Arthur, clasping him in the arm as he left him alone with Merlin.
Unsure what to do, Arthur pulled up a chair from Gaius’s workroom over.
In the hours that he had seen Merlin last, Merlin's skin was even more flushed, cover with a sheen of sweat from the fever. Arthur hesitantly grabbed a washcloth from the table, dipping it into the water basin before bringing it to wipe Merlin's brow.
“You idiot, why didn't you tell me?” His fingers shook, and he couldn't tell whether it was from anger or from worry.
“You didn't think I would---” He closed his eyes against the image of fear in Merlin's eyes. He still could hear the cries of sorcerers being burned at the stake, the acrid taste of burnt flesh and smoke still too familiar on his tongue. Things had changed in the past year, but the memories of past burnings were still too vivid.
The image of Merlin dying on the very stakes that countless other sorcerers had died--bile rose thick and burning up his throat. Taking a deep breath, Arthur tried not to think of what could’ve happened if things had been different. Would I have done the right thing if he had told me the truth from the beginning?
He never thought anything would hurt as much as his father dying or banishing Gwen. But Merlin had always been the exception.
“What the hell are you doing here Merlin? You could've died if someone had found out.”
“I'm not my father,” Arthur said haltingly, “I've learned that in the past year that not everything he did was right. And I'm still learning that there's more to everything than I once thought.”
“You of all people should know that,” he said softly, his fingers reaching up to brush Merlin's hair to the side.
He sat for another hour in the dark once the candle sputtered out, watching carefully as Merlin’s chest rose and fell with every breath. Each one calming his fears.
::::
A week, then another passed but Merlin showed no signs of improving. Arthur found himself pacing near the corridor of Gaius’s rooms whenever he had time away from his duty. Early evenings were spent slumped on the chair by Merlin’s side.
Perhaps more disconcerting than finding George opening his curtains when he blinked his eyes against the streaming morning light that first morning, was the quiet. After Gwen had left, it had seemed Merlin was determined to fill her absence with clatter about the daily goings around the castle and in the lower city. The first few days, Arthur found himself pausing as if waiting for Merlin to find him, his ears waiting to hear Merlin’s voice. Despite his anger, which was slowly waning as days past, he missed Merlin. He missed Merlin’’s grumbling behind his back at council meetings and the loud clatter that greeted him whenever he found Merlin waiting for him. Arthur even missed the late breakfast and the messy disarray his rooms were more often than not when Merlin was around.
A little over three weeks later, Gaius brought the news that Merlin had awaken, but the sharp look the elder physician gave Arthur when he delivered the news confirmed the suspicions Arthur had-- that Gaius had always known about Merlin’s magic.
Arthur didn’t rush immediately to check on Merlin, even though he still found himself pacing in the corridor near Gaius’s chambers. Instead he questioned Gaius about everything he knew about magic. Adding the other pieces of all the incidents that happened in the past. Days passed, a week then another, and still Arthur found himself making excuses. Excuses that were falling flat with rest of the knights, who didn’t understand why Arthur refused to check up on Merlin. Gwaine constantly harassed him and even Leon was starting to give him disapproving looks. Each day he would tell himself that he would check. That today would be the day. But every time, he would talk himself out of going to see Merlin. It was as if things would shatter and it was easier to pretend this way.
::::
Part II