FIC: Recovery 1/2 (Merlin: Merlin/Arthur, PG-13)
TITLE: Recovery (1/2)
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
FANDOM: Merlin
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: Some violence and injury consistent with canon
TIMELINE: AU after 'Le Morte D'Arthur'. Leon makes an appearance.
WORDS: 8,322 (total)
SUMMARY: Arthur can barely stand and Merlin can't stand to wait. A holiday from Camelot is in order.
DISCLAIMER: Merlin belongs to the BBC and Bradley James and Colin Morgan belong happily to themselves. I make no money from this pleasure.
NOTES: For helva2260, who won me through help_pakistan with generosity and tenacity!
After three long weeks, Merlin declared war.
He could put up with whinging, whining, moaning, complaining, nagging and demanding, but when Arthur threw a chamberpot at Gwen, enough was enough.
Sweeping up the fragments of broken pottery, Merlin shot Arthur a look of exasperation.
"You are an ungrateful prat, sire."
Arthur folded his arms, mulish and sullen. Merlin knew the position had to hurt him, the line of skin in the centre of his forehead deepening with every second. Yet there was no way that Arthur would yield, would show even a shred of weakness before he'd managed to make his point.
"No one asked you to be here, Merlin. Now get out."
Fearing for his stubborn prince's shoulder, Merlin left with a short bow and the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. He had to get Arthur away from Camelot, or he would turn the whole castle against him and rot in his chambers for the next six months, weak as a kitten and stormy as thunder.
Then, Merlin had an idea.
~
An hour before dawn, Merlin opened the door to Arthur's chambers and crept inside.
Gingerly, he sat on the edge of Arthur's bed and placed a hand on his good shoulder. "Arthur?"
Arthur sat up suddenly and then wavered. Merlin put an arm across his chest and steadied him with the other hand. "Easy, sire."
"Merlin, let me go. And get out."
The words were ground out through a clenched jaw but Merlin held on to him, leaning in close.
"You are dizzy, in agony and exhausted. I'm not letting you go."
After a moment's struggle, Arthur finally relaxed into the touch, head flopping against Merlin's shoulder. "I hate this," he whispered.
Merlin closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Arthur's in a moment of indulgence. "I know. But I have a plan to get you better."
Arthur groaned. "Unless you have a plan to conjure up a new shoulder, it's not going to work."
Merlin tried not to flinch. "Better. We're going to the hunting lodge."
Arthur tried to raise his head. "Do I look like I'm in any state to hunt, Merlin?"
"We're going there because it's far from everyone else. Two knights, two maids, and a peaceful forest a day's ride from Camelot. Gaius put it to the king last night."
Arthur turned his face into Merlin's neck, sending butterflies through Merlin's stomach. "You're not coming?"
Merlin sighed. "Of course I am. You'd be lost without me."
"It would be quiet without you. Also, I might get some sleep."
Merlin carefully lowered Arthur back to the pillow, wincing at how pale he looked, lips pressed together against the pain. He picked up the warm tankard by Arthur's bed and held it up to him.
"White willow bark," he said and Arthur drank it down, before settling beneath the blankets.
"When do we leave?"
"Dawn," Merlin replied. "I'll gather your things together."
Arthur was sinking into the mattress, as the willow bark soothed his aches. "Horseback?"
"Covered wagon." Arthur pulled a face. "With a whole roast chicken." Arthur smiled and dozed off.
As the first rays of sun peered through the window, Merlin reluctantly woke his prince. "Time to go."
"M'not dressed," Arthur mumbled sleepily. Merlin bundled him into his summer cloak and his hunting breeches. They hung loose on him, once-powerful muscles weakened by three weeks confined to his room.
"Sword. I'm not leaving-"
Merlin held up the sword, then strapped it to the last of the baggage. Two maids bobbed in the doorway and took the bags away, as Merlin helped Arthur to his feet. Arthur tried to push him away.
"They can't...see me."
Merlin held on. "There's just me. And I already know you're a prat, sire."
Arthur let Merlin take most of his weight and they shifted slowly through the castle. The corridors were clear, everyone kept busy elsewhere and Merlin subtly pushing them to abandon the corridors when their errands brought them too close. The whole point of this trip was that Arthur couldn't be seen - a weak Crown Prince meant a weak Camelot, and Merlin didn't know if Arthur's heart could take the shame.
The short walk to the traders' courtyard left Arthur exhausted and he clung to Merlin's shoulder, emitting little pained grunts with every step.
"Nearly there, sire."
"Stop "siring" me, Merlin," Arthur said between gritted teeth. "I'm not made of glass."
Merlin affected his most innocent look as Sir Balin and Sir Leon came into view. "What then - frogs and snails and puppy dog tails? Or are princes goosedown and gold?"
Arthur wheezed out a laugh. Leon started forward, but Merlin warned him off with his eyes. If Arthur had to accept help from his knights, he would never live it down. Personally, Merlin thought being nearly-poisoned to death by a magical monster gave even princes the right to accept a helping hand but it was a minor miracle that Arthur was letting Merlin do this much.
They stumbled up the two steps into the covered wagon and Merlin let the curtain fall closed, light filtering through the canvas. He guided Arthur to perch on the edge of the cushions, gently pressing him down.
"I'm not lying down. I'm sick of lying down." Whingey Arthur - Merlin's personal bane.
"You'll jar your shoulder less this way," Merlin said, patiently, before placing the back of his hand to Arthur's forehead. "You're hot."
Arthur swiped his hand away. "Stop petting me like a girl, Merlin."
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Gaius isn't coming, so from this point on, I'm also your physician." His smile turned smug. "So you have to do what I say."
Arthur smiled. "God help me."
Merlin laughed and pulled the blanket over Arthur before leaning out the back of the wagon. "Sir Leon, the prince is ready."
The knight nodded to him and their little party set out from Camelot. Merlin settled beside Arthur, cross-legged on the floor of the wagon. The inane chatter of the maids filtered dimly through the canvas as they steered the wagon. Merlin watched Arthur, his features relaxing into a pain-free sleep.
He'd done little but sleep and shout for weeks, not strong enough to leave his bed except to sit in the chair. Arthur had never coped well with being cooped up indoors and Merlin, stuck to his side out of loyalty and by royal command, bore the brunt of his bad temper.
Gaius had recovered well from his "summer cold" and Uther had removed him to guest chambers to ensure a speedy return to health. Gwen had promised to look out for him, even though Merlin knew she wished to come with them.
Merlin ignored the little stab of jealousy he felt when he thought of how Gwen had nursed Arthur, when Merlin couldn't. Because Merlin had been out trying to sacrifice himself to the Old Religion so that Arthur might live. Something that Arthur would never, ever know.
Arthur could, of course, do so much worse than Gwen. Gwen who was kind and considerate, and could remarkably put up with Arthur and put him in his place. And, of course, the idea of Arthur ever looking at Merlin like that...
Merlin shook his head. It was his Destiny to watch over Arthur and keep him safe. And remain frustratingly celibate, clearly.
Merlin stretched out on the floor of the wagon. He might as well get some rest - Arthur would yell if he needed him.
~
Arthur woke with a start. The wagon was dusky darkness and still swaying - he'd slept the day away. But what had disturbed him?
Glancing over, he saw Merlin twisted on the floor, a yell caught in his throat as he fought an invisible monster.
"No...no...you can't take him!"
Something wrenched in Arthur's gut and he leaned over, hand resting on Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, wake up."
Merlin cried out again. "I won't let you have him." Arthur shook him, scared now: there were tears on Merlin's cheeks. "Take me - please."
"Merlin!"
Merlin's eyes flew open. "Arthur!"
Arthur squeezed his shoulder, opening his hand as Merlin sought his fingers.
"Bad dream. We're safe." Arthur grasped at Merlin's hand, reassuring himself as much as Merlin. His throat was dry and his heart beat hard in his chest. What had Merlin meant? What monster did he barter with in his dreams?
Finally, Merlin turned his head towards Arthur, embarrassment staining his cheeks. "Sorry."
Arthur didn't let go, wheels slowly turning in his head. Merlin looked exhausted - he hadn't left Arthur's room for two weeks, except to check on Gaius and find his spare shirt.
But that first week, as the fever finally fled from his bones, Arthur only remembered seeing him once. Standing in his room and telling him he would be a great king. Just don't be a prat
The kind of prat that would run off in the middle of the night to make a deal with the devil. Gwen said she'd seen Hunith in the city, terribly unwell - but now she was better. And then Gaius had come down with that terrible cold, bad enough for his father to fuss and order him removed from the physician's quarters until he'd recovered.
Take me - please.
"Arthur? Are you all right?"
And then Merlin was reaching for him again, checking his forehead, fussing with that lingering fear in his eyes. Everyone had looked at Arthur like that since he'd first woken from the fever, but none held Merlin's tinge of failure.
"Fine," he said, mind reeling. "Are we almost there?"
Merlin sat up, giving up his hold on Arthur, and poked his head out of the back of the wagon.
"Leon?"
Oh, it was 'Leon' now. Arthur had never failed to be impressed at how Merlin worked his way into everyone's hearts - even his father held him in a grudging regard.
"Another mile, Merlin. We've made good time. How is he?"
Great - even Leon sounded worried. Arthur moodily pushed himself up, wincing as his shoulder protested.
"Contriving to break his arm again."
And then his shadow was back, taking all the weight off his shoulder and gently folding his arm against his chest.
"I can manage," he snapped, testily. If Merlin thought getting him out of the castle was an excuse to mother him, he was sadly mistaken.
But Merlin refused to be riled. "Would his Royal Prattishness prefer to fall on his face?"
"That was only once," Arthur muttered darkly.
Merlin reached across the wagon with his free hand and picked up a plate of bread and cheese. "Hungry?"
The rolling sick feeling of the past three weeks persisted but Arthur would try. Yet he knew he couldn't lean like this to eat - more shameful weakness.
Merlin read his mood and, anticipating the plate's trajectory across the wagon, swung behind Arthur.
"Not ideal," he mumbled, but Arthur was too shocked at the contact, the warmth of Merlin pressed against his back. He lifted his good arm, his weight resting comfortably on Merlin's surprisingly solid chest.
Arthur forced himself to pick at the plate resting on his lap, as Merlin's strength held them both up. It should make him feel embarrassed, but all he felt was comfort and warmth, the scent of Merlin surrounding him as he let his head fall back on his shoulder.
"Not that hungry."
"Just eat the cheese."
"Slavedriver."
"Prat."
Arthur smiled sleepily and nibbled at the cheese.
The wagon started to slow after a while before coming to a halt. Merlin moved and Arthur leaned against the side of the wagon, propped on his good arm, and watched Merlin nearly fall off the back. Leon steadied him with a laugh - and Arthur scowled, then wondered just why.
Leon started reporting to Merlin as if he were expedition commander. "The maids have gone ahead to air the place and start the fires. We should have everyone settled before we lose the light completely."
Merlin nodded to him and leapt back into the wagon. "We're here!"
Arthur nodded and prepared to leave the wagon, mind still turning over and over what he had heard. He would ask Merlin about it later, he thought. He had to know the truth.
~
When Arthur was safely ensconced in a nest of blankets in his bedroom (an exact replica of his suite in Camelot, right down to the chamberpots), Merlin wearily descended the stairs to the kitchen.
Sir Balin and Sir Leon sat at the table playing cards, as Emma and Caroline cleaned up the last of their simple supper. They cleared a space for him and Merlin sat gratefully. He was still bone tired; when he had managed to catch some sleep in the past fortnight, the nightmares had woken him soon after.
He thought back to the incident with Arthur in the wagon. He hoped the prince would let it go, but unless he found a good distraction, he knew Arthur was smart enough to work it out.
"Merlin? What time shall we rise tomorrow?"
Merlin belatedly realised everyone was looking at him. "Uh..." he said, brimming with intelligence. Sir Leon grinned.
"This was your idea, Merlin. I hope you weren't hoping in the healing power of the forest."
Merlin shook his head with a weak grin. "We'll walk down to the lake in the morning and take it from there. I'll need you for the...swordy bits."
Balin and Leon exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Balin clapped him on the shoulder. "What will we do with you, Merlin?"
Merlin laughed with them, and then excused himself for the night, returning to Arthur's rooms. As he opened the door, Arthur looked across at him.
"Don't you have a bed to go to?"
"The maids are still airing the place." Merlin settled into the chair by Arthur's bed, Arthur's blue eyes watching him.
"You'll hurt your neck," Arthur said softly. Merlin actually had a permanent crick in his neck from sleeping in this chair's twin for the past fortnight.
"I won't be here long," he lied, already sinking into the cushion. Arthur's eyes drifted closed and Merlin joined him in sleep soon after.
~
Merlin dressed Arthur in his hunting clothes and made a sling for his arm. Arthur tolerated the fussing patiently, studying Merlin's frown of concentration as he wrestled with the knot behind Arthur's neck.
"There. Ready?"
"You haven't told me where we're going."
Merlin grinned, clearly enjoying his surprise. Arthur rolled his eyes and let Merlin place his shoulder under Arthur's arm. With his willow tea and a slice of bread in his stomach, Arthur felt able to manage the stairs.
When they emerged from the hunting lodge, the warmth of the sun hit him, sinking into his shoulder and fully waking him. The knights and maids were waiting for him outside and Leon approached them.
"Good morning, sire. Merlin, should I fetch the wagon?"
Arthur was amused at how Merlin seemed to be in charge of this operation. Merlin looked over Arthur appraisingly.
"We'll walk."
They took a slow pace downhill, the knights chatting to him over Merlin's head, as if this were just any other hunt. After a while, Balin fell back to talk to the maids and help them carry the day's supplies.
Arthur felt his body start to flag, but Merlin kept them walking at the same even pace, keeping up the chatter with Leon as Arthur struggled to keep his breath.
The lake spread out before them and the little jetty was a few paces away. Leon fetched a chair from the boathouse and Arthur sat down stiffly, ready to sleep again.
"Let's get set up - we'll begin in ten minutes."
Merlin knelt in front of him and grinned. Arthur scowled.
"Begin what? Royal torture? An acrobatics display?"
Merlin shook his head, still smiling. "Your training."
Arthur looked at him incredulously.
"Training? Merlin, I couldn't even walk down the road."
Merlin shrugged. "We'll start slowly then."
He got up and went to join the others, preparing the rest of this misadventure. He reappeared after a few moments and reached for Arthur's hand. Arthur reluctantly accepted the grip and allowed himself to be hauled upright - and then caught when he overbalanced.
"Let's get this off." Merlin removed the sling and pushed off his jacket, before taking off his shirt.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Was there any point in dressing me this morning?"
Merlin grinned - and Arthur didn't think he'd smiled this much since Arthur's coronation. Merlin took off his own shirt and Arthur realised he'd never seen so much of Merlin's skin before. Merlin was oblivious to Arthur's distraction and supported him, as they turned towards the lake.
It was then that Arthur noticed his knights were in the water, also stripped down to their breeches and splashing each other like a pair of children. The maids were giggling by the boathouse and Arthur suddenly felt self-conscious. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight and his muscles were weakened, his ribs too prominent.
"God, I hate it when they giggle," Merlin mumbled and Arthur looked at him, bemused. Merlin was blushing, pink from the centre of his chest to the tips of his ears. And Arthur thought, really, he had nothing to be ashamed of.
If Arthur were a maid, he'd tumble him in a heartbeat.
With the shock of that revelation kicking him in the stomach, Arthur found himself sitting by the water, his boots in Merlin's hands.
The cold water lapped at his feet and Merlin helped him sit in the shallows, the water bracingly cold. Merlin waded out further and ended up in the middle of Leon and Balin's water fight.
Arthur grinned at their antics and then pushed himself forward, his perch falling away to nothing. He just about got his legs under him and stumbled through the water to their melee.
With one well-aimed splash, he took out Leon, but Balin, reacting on instinct, sent a ripping wave in his direction. Arthur fell backwards and landed hard on the pebbles, arms flailing and water up to his neck.
There was absolute silence. Then Arthur burst out laughing and the others joined him, as Merlin eased him up off the lake bed. "All right, sire?"
"Nothing bruised but my ego," Arthur said, briskly, and then surged forward, soaking Balin with a huge splash.
Arthur threw himself into the battle, staggering drunkenly through the water, muscles burning but spirit light.
In his crowning moment of victory, he dunked Merlin under the water and left him spluttering, causing the maids to giggle more and Arthur taking a moment to catch his breath. Somehow, he didn't think the image of a flustered, soaked Merlin would be leaving him anytime soon.
After half an hour of horseplay, Arthur felt tiredness creeping up on him. Merlin spirited him out of the water and dried him with a warm towel beside the cooking fire. The smell of chicken stew rose from the cauldron and Arthur sniffed it at greedily, hungry for the first time in days.
They ate together, servants and knights, and Arthur learned that Emma was the cook amongst them, her craft honed by the pursuit of her husband, and that Caroline was being nobly pursued by Balin with all the subtlety of a battering ram.
After lunch, he didn't protest when Merlin helped him lie on the warm grass, the noonday sun streaming down on his face.
~
Arthur stood alone, upright on his traitorous, shaking legs. Leon stepped forward solemnly and placed his sword in his hand. It felt good there, but it weighed heavy and Arthur realised his arm could barely hold it.
Leon started forward to move his arm, then stopped. Arthur glared.
"Sir Leon, I need an honest trainer. Are you the man for the task?"
Leon bowed his head. "Yes, sire."
Arthur grinned, struggling not to waver. "Then get on with it."
Leon moved his feet and Arthur felt his weight shift onto abused muscles. He gritted his teeth and held the stance, his back settling into alignment as he squared his shoulders.
The movement sent a bolt of agony down his arm and he dropped his sword to clutch at his shoulder. He felt his body list to the side and Leon caught him, lowering him to the ground and calling for Merlin as if the boy were his nursemaid.
Still, Merlin's hot breath against his neck and his warm hands over his throbbing shoulder soothed him and, when he came back to himself, the last of the pain was leaving his shoulder and Merlin's pale, worried face was before his. "Arthur?"
Arthur struggled to his feet, batting Merlin aside. "Let's go again."
Leon looked aghast. "Sire, perhaps we should-"
"Again, Leon."
Arthur pushed his body back into position, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. Leon led him through basic drill, the first swings he'd taken at five years old. His muscles remembered the movements, though they ached with every demand.
At the end, though, he staggered towards Merlin, grinning and bone tired, the thrum of satisfaction in his veins. "I feel like running to Camelot."
Merlin sighed and caught Arthur as he swayed. Arthur's joy would not be subdued, however, and he led Leon and Balin in victory songs all the way back to the lodge, leaning on Merlin's shoulder as a familiar crutch.
~
Merlin had watched Arthur eat his way through half a chicken and a loaf of bread with glee. As they ascended the steps to his bedroom, Merlin felt Arthur's full weight resting on his shoulders but he didn't mind. It was good to see Arthur's genuine smile again.
Emma and Caroline had prepared a hot bath, which Arthur slipped into, aching muscles soothed by the hot water and scented oils. Merlin tidied up the room, the day catching up with him as he yawned.
He had promised himself that he'd let Arthur heal naturally, that mixing his magic with the power of the Old Religion was a disaster waiting to happen. But when he'd seen Arthur doubled over in agony, delirious with pain, the magic had leapt to his fingers, chasing the pain away and giving Arthur new strength.
The drain on his magic had tired him out and it took considerable effort to haul Arthur out of the tub. Arthur moaned as he lay on the bed and took his willow tea without complaint. Merlin changed the bandages on his shoulder - the wound was almost healed, and Merlin would leave it uncovered in a few days.
Without thought, he let his hand rest on the wound, a scatter of gold falling from his fingertips and sinking into the muscles. Arthur smiled sleepily. "S'nice."
Merlin replaced the bandage guiltily and pulled the blankets up over Arthur.
"Sleep well, Arthur."
As the prince's eyes fell closed, Merlin ghosted a kiss over his forehead, before collapsing into his chair and letting sleep take him.
~
After three training days, Merlin was starting to feel the strain. He'd found his magic leaching from his hands of its own accord, nudging Arthur through the day and banishing his pain into nearby blades of grass and unsuspecting fish.
After Arthur was safely tucked in bed, Merlin descended the stairs to look for some watered wine in case Arthur woke thirsty. The candlelight danced before his eyes, blurring into streaks, and he faltered on the steps, gripping the wall for support as the stairwell started to spin.
"Merlin? Are you all right?"
A strong arm tugged him upright and he struggled to focus on Leon's concerned eyes. "M'fine," he slurred, determined to steady himself and escape from the force of Leon's worry.
"You've been working harder than any of us. You need to rest."
"I will," Merlin said, fervently, pulling away from Leon and turning back up the stairs. "Goodnight."
He felt Leon's stare boring into his back as he shakily made his way back up the stairs and curled up on the rug at the foot of Arthur's bed. It would be better in the morning.
>>> Part two<<<
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
FANDOM: Merlin
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: Some violence and injury consistent with canon
TIMELINE: AU after 'Le Morte D'Arthur'. Leon makes an appearance.
WORDS: 8,322 (total)
SUMMARY: Arthur can barely stand and Merlin can't stand to wait. A holiday from Camelot is in order.
DISCLAIMER: Merlin belongs to the BBC and Bradley James and Colin Morgan belong happily to themselves. I make no money from this pleasure.
NOTES: For helva2260, who won me through help_pakistan with generosity and tenacity!
After three long weeks, Merlin declared war.
He could put up with whinging, whining, moaning, complaining, nagging and demanding, but when Arthur threw a chamberpot at Gwen, enough was enough.
Sweeping up the fragments of broken pottery, Merlin shot Arthur a look of exasperation.
"You are an ungrateful prat, sire."
Arthur folded his arms, mulish and sullen. Merlin knew the position had to hurt him, the line of skin in the centre of his forehead deepening with every second. Yet there was no way that Arthur would yield, would show even a shred of weakness before he'd managed to make his point.
"No one asked you to be here, Merlin. Now get out."
Fearing for his stubborn prince's shoulder, Merlin left with a short bow and the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. He had to get Arthur away from Camelot, or he would turn the whole castle against him and rot in his chambers for the next six months, weak as a kitten and stormy as thunder.
Then, Merlin had an idea.
~
An hour before dawn, Merlin opened the door to Arthur's chambers and crept inside.
Gingerly, he sat on the edge of Arthur's bed and placed a hand on his good shoulder. "Arthur?"
Arthur sat up suddenly and then wavered. Merlin put an arm across his chest and steadied him with the other hand. "Easy, sire."
"Merlin, let me go. And get out."
The words were ground out through a clenched jaw but Merlin held on to him, leaning in close.
"You are dizzy, in agony and exhausted. I'm not letting you go."
After a moment's struggle, Arthur finally relaxed into the touch, head flopping against Merlin's shoulder. "I hate this," he whispered.
Merlin closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Arthur's in a moment of indulgence. "I know. But I have a plan to get you better."
Arthur groaned. "Unless you have a plan to conjure up a new shoulder, it's not going to work."
Merlin tried not to flinch. "Better. We're going to the hunting lodge."
Arthur tried to raise his head. "Do I look like I'm in any state to hunt, Merlin?"
"We're going there because it's far from everyone else. Two knights, two maids, and a peaceful forest a day's ride from Camelot. Gaius put it to the king last night."
Arthur turned his face into Merlin's neck, sending butterflies through Merlin's stomach. "You're not coming?"
Merlin sighed. "Of course I am. You'd be lost without me."
"It would be quiet without you. Also, I might get some sleep."
Merlin carefully lowered Arthur back to the pillow, wincing at how pale he looked, lips pressed together against the pain. He picked up the warm tankard by Arthur's bed and held it up to him.
"White willow bark," he said and Arthur drank it down, before settling beneath the blankets.
"When do we leave?"
"Dawn," Merlin replied. "I'll gather your things together."
Arthur was sinking into the mattress, as the willow bark soothed his aches. "Horseback?"
"Covered wagon." Arthur pulled a face. "With a whole roast chicken." Arthur smiled and dozed off.
As the first rays of sun peered through the window, Merlin reluctantly woke his prince. "Time to go."
"M'not dressed," Arthur mumbled sleepily. Merlin bundled him into his summer cloak and his hunting breeches. They hung loose on him, once-powerful muscles weakened by three weeks confined to his room.
"Sword. I'm not leaving-"
Merlin held up the sword, then strapped it to the last of the baggage. Two maids bobbed in the doorway and took the bags away, as Merlin helped Arthur to his feet. Arthur tried to push him away.
"They can't...see me."
Merlin held on. "There's just me. And I already know you're a prat, sire."
Arthur let Merlin take most of his weight and they shifted slowly through the castle. The corridors were clear, everyone kept busy elsewhere and Merlin subtly pushing them to abandon the corridors when their errands brought them too close. The whole point of this trip was that Arthur couldn't be seen - a weak Crown Prince meant a weak Camelot, and Merlin didn't know if Arthur's heart could take the shame.
The short walk to the traders' courtyard left Arthur exhausted and he clung to Merlin's shoulder, emitting little pained grunts with every step.
"Nearly there, sire."
"Stop "siring" me, Merlin," Arthur said between gritted teeth. "I'm not made of glass."
Merlin affected his most innocent look as Sir Balin and Sir Leon came into view. "What then - frogs and snails and puppy dog tails? Or are princes goosedown and gold?"
Arthur wheezed out a laugh. Leon started forward, but Merlin warned him off with his eyes. If Arthur had to accept help from his knights, he would never live it down. Personally, Merlin thought being nearly-poisoned to death by a magical monster gave even princes the right to accept a helping hand but it was a minor miracle that Arthur was letting Merlin do this much.
They stumbled up the two steps into the covered wagon and Merlin let the curtain fall closed, light filtering through the canvas. He guided Arthur to perch on the edge of the cushions, gently pressing him down.
"I'm not lying down. I'm sick of lying down." Whingey Arthur - Merlin's personal bane.
"You'll jar your shoulder less this way," Merlin said, patiently, before placing the back of his hand to Arthur's forehead. "You're hot."
Arthur swiped his hand away. "Stop petting me like a girl, Merlin."
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Gaius isn't coming, so from this point on, I'm also your physician." His smile turned smug. "So you have to do what I say."
Arthur smiled. "God help me."
Merlin laughed and pulled the blanket over Arthur before leaning out the back of the wagon. "Sir Leon, the prince is ready."
The knight nodded to him and their little party set out from Camelot. Merlin settled beside Arthur, cross-legged on the floor of the wagon. The inane chatter of the maids filtered dimly through the canvas as they steered the wagon. Merlin watched Arthur, his features relaxing into a pain-free sleep.
He'd done little but sleep and shout for weeks, not strong enough to leave his bed except to sit in the chair. Arthur had never coped well with being cooped up indoors and Merlin, stuck to his side out of loyalty and by royal command, bore the brunt of his bad temper.
Gaius had recovered well from his "summer cold" and Uther had removed him to guest chambers to ensure a speedy return to health. Gwen had promised to look out for him, even though Merlin knew she wished to come with them.
Merlin ignored the little stab of jealousy he felt when he thought of how Gwen had nursed Arthur, when Merlin couldn't. Because Merlin had been out trying to sacrifice himself to the Old Religion so that Arthur might live. Something that Arthur would never, ever know.
Arthur could, of course, do so much worse than Gwen. Gwen who was kind and considerate, and could remarkably put up with Arthur and put him in his place. And, of course, the idea of Arthur ever looking at Merlin like that...
Merlin shook his head. It was his Destiny to watch over Arthur and keep him safe. And remain frustratingly celibate, clearly.
Merlin stretched out on the floor of the wagon. He might as well get some rest - Arthur would yell if he needed him.
~
Arthur woke with a start. The wagon was dusky darkness and still swaying - he'd slept the day away. But what had disturbed him?
Glancing over, he saw Merlin twisted on the floor, a yell caught in his throat as he fought an invisible monster.
"No...no...you can't take him!"
Something wrenched in Arthur's gut and he leaned over, hand resting on Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, wake up."
Merlin cried out again. "I won't let you have him." Arthur shook him, scared now: there were tears on Merlin's cheeks. "Take me - please."
"Merlin!"
Merlin's eyes flew open. "Arthur!"
Arthur squeezed his shoulder, opening his hand as Merlin sought his fingers.
"Bad dream. We're safe." Arthur grasped at Merlin's hand, reassuring himself as much as Merlin. His throat was dry and his heart beat hard in his chest. What had Merlin meant? What monster did he barter with in his dreams?
Finally, Merlin turned his head towards Arthur, embarrassment staining his cheeks. "Sorry."
Arthur didn't let go, wheels slowly turning in his head. Merlin looked exhausted - he hadn't left Arthur's room for two weeks, except to check on Gaius and find his spare shirt.
But that first week, as the fever finally fled from his bones, Arthur only remembered seeing him once. Standing in his room and telling him he would be a great king. Just don't be a prat
The kind of prat that would run off in the middle of the night to make a deal with the devil. Gwen said she'd seen Hunith in the city, terribly unwell - but now she was better. And then Gaius had come down with that terrible cold, bad enough for his father to fuss and order him removed from the physician's quarters until he'd recovered.
Take me - please.
"Arthur? Are you all right?"
And then Merlin was reaching for him again, checking his forehead, fussing with that lingering fear in his eyes. Everyone had looked at Arthur like that since he'd first woken from the fever, but none held Merlin's tinge of failure.
"Fine," he said, mind reeling. "Are we almost there?"
Merlin sat up, giving up his hold on Arthur, and poked his head out of the back of the wagon.
"Leon?"
Oh, it was 'Leon' now. Arthur had never failed to be impressed at how Merlin worked his way into everyone's hearts - even his father held him in a grudging regard.
"Another mile, Merlin. We've made good time. How is he?"
Great - even Leon sounded worried. Arthur moodily pushed himself up, wincing as his shoulder protested.
"Contriving to break his arm again."
And then his shadow was back, taking all the weight off his shoulder and gently folding his arm against his chest.
"I can manage," he snapped, testily. If Merlin thought getting him out of the castle was an excuse to mother him, he was sadly mistaken.
But Merlin refused to be riled. "Would his Royal Prattishness prefer to fall on his face?"
"That was only once," Arthur muttered darkly.
Merlin reached across the wagon with his free hand and picked up a plate of bread and cheese. "Hungry?"
The rolling sick feeling of the past three weeks persisted but Arthur would try. Yet he knew he couldn't lean like this to eat - more shameful weakness.
Merlin read his mood and, anticipating the plate's trajectory across the wagon, swung behind Arthur.
"Not ideal," he mumbled, but Arthur was too shocked at the contact, the warmth of Merlin pressed against his back. He lifted his good arm, his weight resting comfortably on Merlin's surprisingly solid chest.
Arthur forced himself to pick at the plate resting on his lap, as Merlin's strength held them both up. It should make him feel embarrassed, but all he felt was comfort and warmth, the scent of Merlin surrounding him as he let his head fall back on his shoulder.
"Not that hungry."
"Just eat the cheese."
"Slavedriver."
"Prat."
Arthur smiled sleepily and nibbled at the cheese.
The wagon started to slow after a while before coming to a halt. Merlin moved and Arthur leaned against the side of the wagon, propped on his good arm, and watched Merlin nearly fall off the back. Leon steadied him with a laugh - and Arthur scowled, then wondered just why.
Leon started reporting to Merlin as if he were expedition commander. "The maids have gone ahead to air the place and start the fires. We should have everyone settled before we lose the light completely."
Merlin nodded to him and leapt back into the wagon. "We're here!"
Arthur nodded and prepared to leave the wagon, mind still turning over and over what he had heard. He would ask Merlin about it later, he thought. He had to know the truth.
~
When Arthur was safely ensconced in a nest of blankets in his bedroom (an exact replica of his suite in Camelot, right down to the chamberpots), Merlin wearily descended the stairs to the kitchen.
Sir Balin and Sir Leon sat at the table playing cards, as Emma and Caroline cleaned up the last of their simple supper. They cleared a space for him and Merlin sat gratefully. He was still bone tired; when he had managed to catch some sleep in the past fortnight, the nightmares had woken him soon after.
He thought back to the incident with Arthur in the wagon. He hoped the prince would let it go, but unless he found a good distraction, he knew Arthur was smart enough to work it out.
"Merlin? What time shall we rise tomorrow?"
Merlin belatedly realised everyone was looking at him. "Uh..." he said, brimming with intelligence. Sir Leon grinned.
"This was your idea, Merlin. I hope you weren't hoping in the healing power of the forest."
Merlin shook his head with a weak grin. "We'll walk down to the lake in the morning and take it from there. I'll need you for the...swordy bits."
Balin and Leon exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Balin clapped him on the shoulder. "What will we do with you, Merlin?"
Merlin laughed with them, and then excused himself for the night, returning to Arthur's rooms. As he opened the door, Arthur looked across at him.
"Don't you have a bed to go to?"
"The maids are still airing the place." Merlin settled into the chair by Arthur's bed, Arthur's blue eyes watching him.
"You'll hurt your neck," Arthur said softly. Merlin actually had a permanent crick in his neck from sleeping in this chair's twin for the past fortnight.
"I won't be here long," he lied, already sinking into the cushion. Arthur's eyes drifted closed and Merlin joined him in sleep soon after.
~
Merlin dressed Arthur in his hunting clothes and made a sling for his arm. Arthur tolerated the fussing patiently, studying Merlin's frown of concentration as he wrestled with the knot behind Arthur's neck.
"There. Ready?"
"You haven't told me where we're going."
Merlin grinned, clearly enjoying his surprise. Arthur rolled his eyes and let Merlin place his shoulder under Arthur's arm. With his willow tea and a slice of bread in his stomach, Arthur felt able to manage the stairs.
When they emerged from the hunting lodge, the warmth of the sun hit him, sinking into his shoulder and fully waking him. The knights and maids were waiting for him outside and Leon approached them.
"Good morning, sire. Merlin, should I fetch the wagon?"
Arthur was amused at how Merlin seemed to be in charge of this operation. Merlin looked over Arthur appraisingly.
"We'll walk."
They took a slow pace downhill, the knights chatting to him over Merlin's head, as if this were just any other hunt. After a while, Balin fell back to talk to the maids and help them carry the day's supplies.
Arthur felt his body start to flag, but Merlin kept them walking at the same even pace, keeping up the chatter with Leon as Arthur struggled to keep his breath.
The lake spread out before them and the little jetty was a few paces away. Leon fetched a chair from the boathouse and Arthur sat down stiffly, ready to sleep again.
"Let's get set up - we'll begin in ten minutes."
Merlin knelt in front of him and grinned. Arthur scowled.
"Begin what? Royal torture? An acrobatics display?"
Merlin shook his head, still smiling. "Your training."
Arthur looked at him incredulously.
"Training? Merlin, I couldn't even walk down the road."
Merlin shrugged. "We'll start slowly then."
He got up and went to join the others, preparing the rest of this misadventure. He reappeared after a few moments and reached for Arthur's hand. Arthur reluctantly accepted the grip and allowed himself to be hauled upright - and then caught when he overbalanced.
"Let's get this off." Merlin removed the sling and pushed off his jacket, before taking off his shirt.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Was there any point in dressing me this morning?"
Merlin grinned - and Arthur didn't think he'd smiled this much since Arthur's coronation. Merlin took off his own shirt and Arthur realised he'd never seen so much of Merlin's skin before. Merlin was oblivious to Arthur's distraction and supported him, as they turned towards the lake.
It was then that Arthur noticed his knights were in the water, also stripped down to their breeches and splashing each other like a pair of children. The maids were giggling by the boathouse and Arthur suddenly felt self-conscious. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight and his muscles were weakened, his ribs too prominent.
"God, I hate it when they giggle," Merlin mumbled and Arthur looked at him, bemused. Merlin was blushing, pink from the centre of his chest to the tips of his ears. And Arthur thought, really, he had nothing to be ashamed of.
If Arthur were a maid, he'd tumble him in a heartbeat.
With the shock of that revelation kicking him in the stomach, Arthur found himself sitting by the water, his boots in Merlin's hands.
The cold water lapped at his feet and Merlin helped him sit in the shallows, the water bracingly cold. Merlin waded out further and ended up in the middle of Leon and Balin's water fight.
Arthur grinned at their antics and then pushed himself forward, his perch falling away to nothing. He just about got his legs under him and stumbled through the water to their melee.
With one well-aimed splash, he took out Leon, but Balin, reacting on instinct, sent a ripping wave in his direction. Arthur fell backwards and landed hard on the pebbles, arms flailing and water up to his neck.
There was absolute silence. Then Arthur burst out laughing and the others joined him, as Merlin eased him up off the lake bed. "All right, sire?"
"Nothing bruised but my ego," Arthur said, briskly, and then surged forward, soaking Balin with a huge splash.
Arthur threw himself into the battle, staggering drunkenly through the water, muscles burning but spirit light.
In his crowning moment of victory, he dunked Merlin under the water and left him spluttering, causing the maids to giggle more and Arthur taking a moment to catch his breath. Somehow, he didn't think the image of a flustered, soaked Merlin would be leaving him anytime soon.
After half an hour of horseplay, Arthur felt tiredness creeping up on him. Merlin spirited him out of the water and dried him with a warm towel beside the cooking fire. The smell of chicken stew rose from the cauldron and Arthur sniffed it at greedily, hungry for the first time in days.
They ate together, servants and knights, and Arthur learned that Emma was the cook amongst them, her craft honed by the pursuit of her husband, and that Caroline was being nobly pursued by Balin with all the subtlety of a battering ram.
After lunch, he didn't protest when Merlin helped him lie on the warm grass, the noonday sun streaming down on his face.
~
Arthur stood alone, upright on his traitorous, shaking legs. Leon stepped forward solemnly and placed his sword in his hand. It felt good there, but it weighed heavy and Arthur realised his arm could barely hold it.
Leon started forward to move his arm, then stopped. Arthur glared.
"Sir Leon, I need an honest trainer. Are you the man for the task?"
Leon bowed his head. "Yes, sire."
Arthur grinned, struggling not to waver. "Then get on with it."
Leon moved his feet and Arthur felt his weight shift onto abused muscles. He gritted his teeth and held the stance, his back settling into alignment as he squared his shoulders.
The movement sent a bolt of agony down his arm and he dropped his sword to clutch at his shoulder. He felt his body list to the side and Leon caught him, lowering him to the ground and calling for Merlin as if the boy were his nursemaid.
Still, Merlin's hot breath against his neck and his warm hands over his throbbing shoulder soothed him and, when he came back to himself, the last of the pain was leaving his shoulder and Merlin's pale, worried face was before his. "Arthur?"
Arthur struggled to his feet, batting Merlin aside. "Let's go again."
Leon looked aghast. "Sire, perhaps we should-"
"Again, Leon."
Arthur pushed his body back into position, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. Leon led him through basic drill, the first swings he'd taken at five years old. His muscles remembered the movements, though they ached with every demand.
At the end, though, he staggered towards Merlin, grinning and bone tired, the thrum of satisfaction in his veins. "I feel like running to Camelot."
Merlin sighed and caught Arthur as he swayed. Arthur's joy would not be subdued, however, and he led Leon and Balin in victory songs all the way back to the lodge, leaning on Merlin's shoulder as a familiar crutch.
~
Merlin had watched Arthur eat his way through half a chicken and a loaf of bread with glee. As they ascended the steps to his bedroom, Merlin felt Arthur's full weight resting on his shoulders but he didn't mind. It was good to see Arthur's genuine smile again.
Emma and Caroline had prepared a hot bath, which Arthur slipped into, aching muscles soothed by the hot water and scented oils. Merlin tidied up the room, the day catching up with him as he yawned.
He had promised himself that he'd let Arthur heal naturally, that mixing his magic with the power of the Old Religion was a disaster waiting to happen. But when he'd seen Arthur doubled over in agony, delirious with pain, the magic had leapt to his fingers, chasing the pain away and giving Arthur new strength.
The drain on his magic had tired him out and it took considerable effort to haul Arthur out of the tub. Arthur moaned as he lay on the bed and took his willow tea without complaint. Merlin changed the bandages on his shoulder - the wound was almost healed, and Merlin would leave it uncovered in a few days.
Without thought, he let his hand rest on the wound, a scatter of gold falling from his fingertips and sinking into the muscles. Arthur smiled sleepily. "S'nice."
Merlin replaced the bandage guiltily and pulled the blankets up over Arthur.
"Sleep well, Arthur."
As the prince's eyes fell closed, Merlin ghosted a kiss over his forehead, before collapsing into his chair and letting sleep take him.
~
After three training days, Merlin was starting to feel the strain. He'd found his magic leaching from his hands of its own accord, nudging Arthur through the day and banishing his pain into nearby blades of grass and unsuspecting fish.
After Arthur was safely tucked in bed, Merlin descended the stairs to look for some watered wine in case Arthur woke thirsty. The candlelight danced before his eyes, blurring into streaks, and he faltered on the steps, gripping the wall for support as the stairwell started to spin.
"Merlin? Are you all right?"
A strong arm tugged him upright and he struggled to focus on Leon's concerned eyes. "M'fine," he slurred, determined to steady himself and escape from the force of Leon's worry.
"You've been working harder than any of us. You need to rest."
"I will," Merlin said, fervently, pulling away from Leon and turning back up the stairs. "Goodnight."
He felt Leon's stare boring into his back as he shakily made his way back up the stairs and curled up on the rug at the foot of Arthur's bed. It would be better in the morning.
>>> Part two<<<