[fic] DEEP REVELATIONS
TITLE: DEEP REVELATIONS
AUTHOR: thecheekydragon
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: PG
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: Some injury and wounding, in case that sort of thing bothers you.
DISCLAIMER: No infringements intended; just a re-imagined working of characters owned legally and played wondrously by others.
SUMMARY: Arthur and Merlin run into trouble on a jaunt in the countryside and Merlin must reveal his magic in order to save Arthur. In the process, Merlin is wounded, and Arthur discovers how he really feels about his trusty manservant.
WORD COUNT: 4890
A/N: The inspiration to finish this fic came from an earlier posting by becsx titled “one man” - so thanks for that! Hope you enjoy and, as always, comments are most welcome.
DEEP REVELATIONS
“Here’s another!” Arthur called out to Merlin, ahead of him about fifty paces on the woods path.
Arthur was referring to a set of unusual tracks, presumably made by some animal, they had come across during their foray into the woods. They had dismounted and left their horses on the outskirts of the wooded area, about eight furlongs east, entering the woods to do some exploring - Arthur, the hunter and warrior, with gleeful excitement; Merlin, the non-adventurous, with grumbling reluctance.
Merlin had set out with Arthur earlier that day to “get out of the castle.” Arthur had been feeling quite restless and had decided he and Merlin needed to take a jaunt outside of Camelot to “stretch their legs” and “air their lungs.” His father had wanted Arthur to take a few knights with him, but Arthur had steadfastly refused, not wanting a bevy of knights to slow him needlessly down or to steal some of the fresh country air his lungs so desperately needed.
No, this was a jaunt for Arthur and his servant - he could not ride alone, could he? - and so Arthur had clapped Merlin gleefully on the back, had asked him to prepare the horses, and then the two of them had embarked on a heedless journey to nowhere in particular.
The jaunt had led them to this wooded area, which Arthur suggested looked like a “swell place to explore, wouldn’t you say Merlin?” And, so, they had dismounted, secured the horses, and entered the woods.
They had walked about a thousand paces when they had stumbled upon the first set of tracks. Intrigued, Arthur had insisted they go on in search of further tracks, which they found another furlong ahead, alongside a rocky creek bed.
Arthur was crouched down on the path, inspecting the tracks, when Merlin caught up to him. He was panting slightly, having followed a very fit and rather frolicking Arthur, who seemed almost wondrously child-like in his zest for embracing adventure.
Arthur tossed him a somewhat pained look. “Merlin, you need to start training with my knights,” he told him plainly. “I can’t have you keeling over every time you extend yourself.”
Merlin muttered something about “getting enough exercise tending to the whims and fancies of a pratly prince” but Arthur seemed - or pretended - not to hear him.
“I wonder what kind of animal made these,” Arthur mused, outlining the tracks with his fingers.
“Probably a wolf or maybe a coyote?” Merlin offered, walking over to the creek to quench his thirst.
“This size?” Arthur countered. “And with such long claws?”
Merlin paused in his drinking. “A wildren maybe?” He hoped not. He hated those giant baby rats.
“Not likely,” Arthur returned, stretching up from his crouching position. He joined Merlin at the creek bed, taking some water. “I think we should follow them a little further,” he said.
Merlin gave Arthur his most pitifully miserable look.
Arthur chuckled. “Come on, Merlin, don’t be such a dud. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He clapped Merlin on the back, which only told Merlin he was in for some kind of adventure he was bound not to enjoy.
But, in fairness, Merlin had to admit he rather enjoyed these little “jaunts” with Arthur, especially when it was just the two of them. Arthur was at his most relaxed during these times, playful even. And though he tended to rib Merlin constantly and quite mercilessly, Merlin felt it was one of the few times Arthur could be himself. Just Arthur, not the Prince of Camelot. Merlin’s friend, not his master.
So, to satisfy Arthur’s curiosity and adventurous spirit, they trekked on further into the woods in pursuit of the mysterious tracks.
Another thousand yards or so, they came to a small clearing where Arthur picked up the tracks once more. Again, he crouched down to inspect them, Merlin hovering over his shoulder to take a look. They were both caught unawares when a great monstrous beast leapt out from the trees toward them.
Arthur, as always the lightening quick warrior, shoved Merlin protectively aside, drawing his sword which he had tucked into his belt next to his dagger.
The beast, somewhat resembling a monstrous dog but, strangely, with the svelte body of a lion, was covered in wild tufts of black fur. Its feral appearance was enhanced by huge jutting teeth, goblin-like ears, and blood red eyes. It growled menacingly at Arthur, its massive tail swishing wildly. It extended a great paw, long sharp claws reaching out ominously.
Definitely not wildren tracks, Merlin thought, though now he almost wished they had been. This creature was the size of a bear and, though Merlin couldn’t be absolutely sure, he thought it fit the description of a barghest, a demon-dog or spectre-hound, a mythical creature fancifully told in many folklore stories generations down, stories that Merlin had always thought were just meant to scare women and children.
Well, Merlin admitted, seeing the feral beast up close and personal, he was certainly scared, terrified actually, especially now that he remembered the tales often claimed the barghest as a portent of death. According to the myth, those who looked upon it would soon meet their demise. Seeing those fangs and claws, the beast’s ferocious gaze locked on Arthur, Merlin decided that death seemed very likely for the both of them.
Arthur circled the beast, sword at the ready, trying to map out a strategy that would allow him to strike the beast while avoiding the sharp claws and teeth. This was not proving easy, Merlin noticed, as the beast turned with Arthur, apparently mapping out its own strategy to attack Arthur while avoiding the blade of his sword.
Arthur suddenly struck, managing to land a non-fatal blow to the beast’s shoulder, but he had to pull back quickly to avoid the swiping claws aimed at his chest, and he stumbled slightly. His footing held, but Merlin could tell that Arthur was struggling to maintain his trained agility, the beast tracking his every move, looking for an opportunity to strike back.
Arthur attempted to strike again, but this time the beast beat him to the strike, cuffing Arthur’s shoulder with his monstrous paw, knocking him clear across the ground with such force that Arthur lost his hold on the sword hilt and it fell to the ground away from him as Arthur rolled and skidded on the earth.
Arthur looked up at the beast, eyeing his sword laying a good ten feet away from him, gauging whether he could retrieve it given the distance. He pulled his dagger, his assessment obviously negative, and then looked at Merlin imploringly. “Run, Merlin! Get out of here! I can’t beat him! You must run!”
Merlin felt his body grip with terror as the beast positioned himself above Arthur, teeth showing, claws extended, Arthur with only his dagger to protect him, which would not be enough.
Merlin had no choice. To protect Arthur from the attacking beast, he had to use his magic - and he had to risk using it right in front of Arthur. There was no other option.
With barely a moment’s hesitation, Merlin reached out his hand, aiming it toward the beast. He called up all of his inner magical strength, his eyes glowing gold as he uttered a few words, words that no doubt sounded strange to the ears of those - like Arthur - who were not schooled in magic.
The beast was momentarily stayed. And with another recitation of strange words and glowing eyes, the beast was forced powerfully back, falling to the ground in defeat.
But before Merlin could even begin to consider the consequences of using his magic openly, he heard Arthur shout, “Merlin, look out!”
Another beast had appeared and attacked Merlin from behind. Merlin felt a searing pain in his left shoulder as the beast plunged a claw into his flesh, pushing it straight through to the front of his chest, then painfully drawing it back out again.
Merlin was only vaguely aware of Arthur storming forward, sword thrusting in fury at the beast, before consciousness slipped away and he crumbled to the ground in a lifeless heap.
**********
Arthur was hunched over Merlin’s body, fear and pain racking through his own. He had managed to slay the beast, but had taken a sharp claw in the thigh, and blood now oozed from the gash through the ripped fabric of his riding breeches. The wound was serious but not life-threatening and his injury was not what was making him afraid. No, his fear was stimulated by Merlin’s seemingly lifeless form, the gash through his shoulder pouring with blood...so much blood.
“Merlin,” Arthur called but he received no response. Arthur bent his head close to Merlin’s, putting an ear to his mouth, listening for some sign of life. Please, Arthur begged to no one in particular, please don’t let him be dead.
Merlin’s breathing was very faint but Arthur was relieved there was still breath in him. Still, Arthur knew that unless he did something - something damnit - his friend would likely end up like the corpse he already looked like.
Arthur looked about their surroundings, trying to regain his bearings. They had walked a distance of about a mile and a half from where they had dismounted their horses, east - no, west - through the wooded area, around that creek bed where they had taken water. The loss of blood was making Arthur feel light-headed and a little woozy, and he struggled to maintain his concentration. He had to find shelter for Merlin, to protect him from any further attacks, to keep him warm and nurse his injury the best he could to keep him alive until his father sent a rescue party, as Arthur knew his father would once he realized Arthur had not returned to Camelot.
There had been a cave just north - or was it south? - of the creek, Arthur remembered, that would provide ample protection from the elements and any lurking beasts. But it was at least a couple thousand paces away. Arthur would have to carry Merlin - what choice was there? - and endure the pain and weakness in his injured thigh as he covered the ground to the cave with Merlin’s extra weight.
Arthur took stock of their supplies. His first priority was to try and stop the bleeding in his thigh and to do what he could for Merlin so that he could carry him the distance without leaving a telltale trail of blood that would potentially attract more of those monstrous menacing beasts. Arthur was sure he and Merlin would not survive if they encountered another.
Arthur looked through Merlin’s leather satchel, discovering a few loose bandages and some healing ointment. Thankfully, Gaius usually insisted that Merlin pack some medical supplies in the bag he carried, but Arthur would need these to clean and treat Merlin’s wound once they got to the creek bed and the relative safety of the cave. What he needed was a make-shift tourniquet for his thigh and something more substantial to soak up the blood oozing from Merlin’s shoulder.
Arthur considered using his own belt for the tourniquet but realized he needed it to tuck away his dagger and sword, especially since he would have to carry Merlin and their light satchels. So, he decided to use Merlin’s belt instead, carefully removing it from around Merlin’s tunic which was holding it at the waist. Then, Arthur tied Merlin’s leather belt tightly around his left thigh, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down some. Arthur then tended to Merlin, working as fast as he could so that they could get moving before they attracted the attention of any other wood creatures. Surely, the smell of the slain dog-beasts, or whatever they were, might draw notice from curious scavengers.
He tore off a part of his own tunic and applied it to the gushing wound on Merlin’s shoulder. The fabric soaked up the blood quickly. Arthur then removed Merlin’s scarf, thinking he could wrap it around Merlin’s shoulder and under his armpit to hold it securely in place over the blood-soaked tunic fabric. Arthur did just that, eyeing Merlin with grave concern, hoping beyond hope that his servant - his friend - would open his eyes soon and acknowledge life. But Merlin remained unconscious.
Arthur shrugged out of his brown leather vest and put it on Merlin, figuring this would at least keep him somewhat warm even though it probably wouldn’t offer much added protection. Arthur cursed himself for not having worn his long brown cloak, which would have afforded more warmth for Merlin. He collected his dagger and sword, tucking them into his belt, swung the leather satchels over his shoulder, and then set about picking up Merlin, for once thankful for his lean, slender frame, though his body did feel much heavier in its unconscious state.
He tested his leg. It would be a long limping walk to the cave, Arthur knew, with several rests needed along the way. He gathered up as much warrior strength as he could and began the arduous journey, focusing on getting to the creek bed, praying Merlin would hold on, would stay with him.
********
Arthur managed the thousand yards or so to the cave over the next few hours, stopping every fifty paces or so to rest his leg and to momentarily ease his burden. Each time he stopped to rest, he checked on Merlin, making sure he was breathing, assessing the wound wrapped in the now thoroughly blood-soaked scarf. Merlin still had not stirred and Arthur noticed the perspiration gathering on Merlin’s forehead and brows, the telltale beginnings of a fever. He ripped off another section of his tunic and dabbed the fabric across Merlin’s forehead. Just a few more paces to the rocky creek bed and the cave.
At the creek bed, Arthur set Merlin down gently. He went to the creek and thirst fully drank up a handful of water. He then dipped the tunic fabric in the cold water, soaking it, and returned to Merlin, first trickling some water in Merlin’s mouth to feed his feverish thirst, then swabbing the wet cold fabric across his forehead. Arthur repeated this several times before gathering Merlin up again to make the short trek to the cave just around to the north of the flowing creek. Once he got Merlin to shelter, he would come back to the creek to soak the bandages and to try and gather some more water for both drinking and cleaning their wounds.
The cave was small and dark but it afforded sufficient shelter. Arthur carried Merlin into the cave and, not being able to see beyond a few feet in front of him, he set Merlin down close to the mouth opening where the dregs of daylight still trickled through. That would soon change as night came and Arthur contemplated a few of their options.
He settled Merlin on the ground as best as he could against the rock wall. He could just make out Merlin’s face, feverish, sickly, completely vulnerable. Arthur covered his own eyes with the heels of his palms, pressing them into the sockets, trying to force out the heavy tiredness and the weighty anxiety he was feeling in his worry over Merlin - Merlin, who had saved him from the clutches of certain death but was now hovering on the edge of his own deathbed.
Arthur recalled the power emanating from Merlin as he magically struck down the beast. Arthur had never seen anything so fantastic, so formidable, so amazingly powerful. Just a few words and concentrated effort and the beast had been defeated. Arthur realized that it must have cost Merlin much to reveal his true self in order to save him. How many other times had Merlin done the same without Arthur ever having been aware?
Arthur bent close to Merlin. “Merlin,” he called softly in an effort to draw his attention. “I need you to use your magic. I need you to make a fire so you can stay warm and I can tend to your wound better with some light.” Merlin did not respond. Arthur cradled Merlin’s head between his hands and bent his head close to Merlin’s ear. “Please, Merlin. I need you to do this for me. I need you to make a fire. Please.”
Arthur felt something stir inside Merlin, although his friend did not seem to be conscious. A golden glow emanated from his body, mostly about his eyes, which were still shut. A small fire sprung up about three feet to the right of them, away from the cave opening.
Arthur could immediately feel the warmth of its radiating embers and he could now better see Merlin’s face in the light being cast over them. He smiled. “That’s it, Merlin. That’s it. Now you can stay warm.” Arthur reached for Merlin’s leather satchel. “Now let’s see what I can do about cleaning and dressing your wound.”
Arthur went back to the creek with their bags. He soaked the bandages from Merlin’s satchel, placing them back inside the leather pouch. He filled his own leather bag, which he had emptied in the cave, with water, hoping the well-made leather carry-all with the Pendragon seal would serve as an ample vessel for retaining and transporting the liquid. On the way back to the cave, Arthur deliberately carved out markers with his dagger along the path, figuring any knights involved in a rescue effort would recognize his message and be led to the cave where he and Merlin would be waiting.
Arthur tended to Merlin’s wound first, applying the soaked bandages to clean the wound as best as he could. The bleeding had finally slowed but the wound did not look good. He opened the jar of ointment and smeared most of it on the entry and exit points of Merlin’s wound, hoping it was one of Gaius’ healing salves. It certainly smelled like it. Then Arthur ripped off another piece of his tunic - there was starting to not be much left for his belt to grab on to so he took it off and set it, with his dagger, down on the ground next to his sword - and tied it around Merlin’s shoulder. He hand cupped some water carefully into Merlin’s mouth and then set about cleaning his own wound, rubbing the meagre amount of ointment left onto the gash, returning the tourniquet belt to prevent further bleeding. Arthur had been wounded enough times in his life to know that he would out-endure his injury, though he would end up with a nasty scar on his upper thigh. But Merlin...Arthur could barely endure thinking about what fate awaited his friend.
Night had fallen and the cave grew darker and colder. Arthur saw Merlin shiver, the first sign of ‘life’ Merlin had shown since he had been struck down by the beast, but Arthur knew it was most likely the fever taking greater hold, and this was not a good thing. Merlin needed to stay warm and, though the magical fire was still giving off heat, it was not quite enough to counter the effects of Merlin’s feverish quivering.
So, deciding to lend his body heat which would serve them both, Arthur settled on the cave ground next to Merlin, pulling his body halfway over his uninjured side, wrapping his right arm around Merlin’s neck and shoulder. His dagger and sword lay next to his left side, ready to be taken up should any unwelcome creatures or strangers enter the cave. It was a less than ideal combat-ready position, having his dominant arm occupied and his weaker arm free, but it was a position that was necessary for the sake of both of their wounds.
“There, Merlin,” he said soothingly, tightening his arm around his friend to stimulate warmth. “I’ll help you stay warm.” Arthur found himself chuckling. “You know, I suspect you’ve always wanted me to hug you,” he joked, near hysterics. “So you should be quite happy that you’re finally getting your way.”
Merlin said nothing but Arthur pretended that his servant-friend had made one of his usual cheeky retorts. “Say what you will, Merlin,” Arthur responded, “but you can’t fool me.”
For a while, Arthur and Merlin rested quietly, both benefitting from the combined body heat, most of which was being contributed by Arthur. Then, as his fever peaked more strongly, Merlin began to get restless and he thrashed around in Arthur’s arms, despite his barely-held consciousness. Arthur tried to settle him, whispering calming words, but Merlin continued to thrash erratically and then began to feverishly mutter.
“Arthur!...Must save Arthur!...Use magic...Save Arthur!”
Arthur tried to comfort him. “I’m safe, Merlin. You saved me. I’m safe.”
But Merlin continued to mutter, almost frantic. “Save Arthur!...Use magic...Save Arthur...Love him...Love Arthur....Must save him!....Use magic...”
Arthur pulled Merlin close, trying to calm and soothe him, letting the tears fall shamelessly down his cheeks. “I’m safe, Merlin,” he repeated. “You saved me. I’m safe.”
********
Arthur woke suddenly, startled. The fire Merlin had magically created had died down some and it was colder now in the cave. He must have fallen asleep, but for how long he was uncertain. Merlin felt heavy in his arms, his body cold. Terror gripped Arthur and rattled his soul. Was Merlin...?
Arthur shifted so he could inspect Merlin. Merlin’s eyes were shut - they hadn’t ever really opened - and he looked somewhat peaceful. Arthur gripped his collar, pulling Merlin toward him. “Merlin!” he cried. “Merlin!” Merlin did not respond. Arthur’s heart plunged in despair. He would never forgive himself if Merlin had passed while he was asleep.
Arthur shook Merlin, then put an ear to his friend’s mouth, checking again for breathing. He could neither hear nor feel any breath. No! Arthur shook Merlin again. “No, Merlin! Stay with me! Please! I need you to stay with me!” Arthur was still shaking Merlin, aware that tears were now streaming down his cheeks. “Please! I can’t do this alone, Merlin!” Arthur continued despairingly. “I cannot be a great king without you! I need you, Merlin. Please. I love you and I need you. Please stay with me.”
Arthur touched his lips to Merlin’s, hoping by some miracle or magic, that his own life could be taken from him and given to Merlin. Merlin had to live. If he lost Merlin, Arthur did not know how he could go on. He would prefer death than to have to live in despair over losing the one person he finally realized he loved the most.
Arthur felt Merlin’s lips move faintly beneath his and he sank his head to Merlin’s chest, now sobbing, overwhelming relief taking over his emotionally battered body.
“....love you,” Arthur heard Merlin murmur weakly. “Arthur...love...you.”
Arthur continued to sob as he again cradled Merlin against him, wrapping his arms around him to keep him warm. He would not fall asleep again. He had to make sure Merlin stayed alive. He had to make sure Merlin would not leave him.
********
It was some time just after day break when the knights found the cave, guided by the markers placed by their prince. There, they found Arthur and his servant, both wounded, clutched together, the remnants of what looked like a fire now smouldering out. Ever vigilant, Arthur grabbed his sword when they entered through the opening, prepared to defend against foe, even in the weak and injured state he was clearly in. He dropped it tiredly when he realized the foes were in fact friends, his knights dressed in regal red cloaks, accompanied by an aging man with kind eyes and a gentle touch.
Gaius bent over him, untying the make-shift tourniquet to assess the injury to his thigh. Arthur pushed his hands away. “No! Help Merlin!”
“But, sire, you’re injured,” Gaius responded gently, “and your father has commanded that your safety be our priority.” Arthur saw Gaius looking at Merlin, grave concern in his eyes.
“I don’t care what my father has said. I don’t matter right now, Gaius,” Arthur said. “Help Merlin. Please. He can’t die, Gaius. He can’t die.”
Gaius abided Arthur’s wishes and turned his attention to Merlin. Once assured that Merlin was in the most capable hands there ever was, Arthur finally surrendered to sleep. He was barely aware of being carried out of the cave by his knights, Merlin being carried similarly behind him, Gaius following with fatherly concern and direction.
********
Merlin slowly became aware of his surroundings, feeling the soft bed and plump pillows, taking in the royal red and gold coverlet and canopy. Arthur’s chambers? Arthur’s bed?
“Arthur!” Merlin cried, shooting his body upward as he did. He felt a dull pain in his left shoulder. He remembered the beast wounding him, Arthur charging forward with sword in hand....What had happened? Where was Arthur?
“It’s alright, Merlin,” Gaius said soothingly from the bedside. The old man patted Merlin’s arm, a look of relief in his eyes. “You are going to be fine, dear boy,” he said, then seeing the panic still in Merlin’s eyes, he added, “And Arthur is fine too.”
Gaius now stood. “In fact, I had better go fetch him before he has my head on the chopping block.” His eyes twinkled. “Arthur explicitly ordered me to retrieve him should you wake while he was gone.”
“Gone?” Merlin asked, his mind foggy.
Gaius smiled. “He hasn’t left your side since we brought you both back. But I finally insisted that he go to the kitchen to get something to eat - court physician’s orders - promising him that I would stay with you in case you woke.”
But Gaius didn’t even make it to door on his way to fetch the prince before Arthur returned to his chambers. He now limped into the room, carrying a plate of cheese, bread and fruit.
His face broke into a smile when he saw Merlin was awake and sitting up. Then he turned on Gaius and admonished, “Gaius, I specifically ordered you to fetch me when Merlin awoke.”
Gaius set his mouth firmly to hide his own forming smile. “I was just on my way, sire.”
He started for the door as Arthur, favouring his left leg, took up his place at Merlin’s bedside, mumbling something about letting the two of them have some time alone.
Arthur sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked Merlin.
Merlin thought he should be asking Arthur the same question. Arthur looked war-weary, completely drained. “Okay,” Merlin said, then asked, “How about you?” He pointed toward Arthur’s leg, which had obviously been injured.
“It’s just a scratch,” Arthur fibbed gallantly. “That beast thought he could take me out before I got him.”
They had now finally come to it.
“Arthur, about what you saw....”
“I know what I saw, Merlin.” Arthur said. “It was the most fantastic and powerful thing I have ever witnessed.” He saw the fear in Merlin’s eyes. “It’s alright, Merlin. Your secret is safe with me.”
“What, you’re not going to have me executed?” Merlin could hardly believe it, though deep down inside he knew he could trust Arthur.
“Now why would I go to all that trouble to keep you alive and bring you back safely to Camelot, just to have you hanged?” Arthur intoned with amused incredulity. Then he looked at Merlin with an intensity Merlin had never seen before. He whispered with heartfelt tenderness, “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, Merlin.”
All of a sudden, snippets of the last few days came flooding back to Merlin. Arthur carrying him. Arthur tending to his wound. Arthur asking him to create a fire with his magic. Arthur holding him, keeping him warm, comforting him. Arthur touching his lips to his. Arthur telling him he needed him, that he loved him. And, here, back in Camelot, Arthur staying at bedside, tending to him while he recovered. Arthur laying beside him while he slept. Arthur telling his father that he would not leave Merlin’s side until he was certain his friend would be all right, telling the king that he needed Merlin and could not think of performing his princely duties without him.
Arthur’s voice broke into these fragmented memories. “Merlin, in the cave....” Arthur began. “You were delirious from fever, I know, but...”
Merlin looked at Arthur expectantly, encouraging him to go on.
“You said you loved me.”
“Well,” said Merlin, “I can’t imagine I would have said such a thing...” He saw Arthur’s hopefulness fall. “Unless it were true,” he finished.
Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand and invited him under the coverlet beside him. Arthur obliged quite willingly, pressing his body in close to Merlin. His blue eyes, more vulnerable than Merlin had ever seen them, looked deeply into Merlin’s own blue ones. “Merlin, I need you. Promise me you’ll never leave me,” he said.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Merlin replied softly, pulling Arthur closer into him. “Now sleep,” he told him.
Gaius had returned to Arthur’s chambers to check on the lads and saw them nestled together under the coverlet of Arthur’s bed. He smiled. Then, without a word, he turned away and left discreetly.
AUTHOR: thecheekydragon
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: PG
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: Some injury and wounding, in case that sort of thing bothers you.
DISCLAIMER: No infringements intended; just a re-imagined working of characters owned legally and played wondrously by others.
SUMMARY: Arthur and Merlin run into trouble on a jaunt in the countryside and Merlin must reveal his magic in order to save Arthur. In the process, Merlin is wounded, and Arthur discovers how he really feels about his trusty manservant.
WORD COUNT: 4890
A/N: The inspiration to finish this fic came from an earlier posting by becsx titled “one man” - so thanks for that! Hope you enjoy and, as always, comments are most welcome.
DEEP REVELATIONS
“Here’s another!” Arthur called out to Merlin, ahead of him about fifty paces on the woods path.
Arthur was referring to a set of unusual tracks, presumably made by some animal, they had come across during their foray into the woods. They had dismounted and left their horses on the outskirts of the wooded area, about eight furlongs east, entering the woods to do some exploring - Arthur, the hunter and warrior, with gleeful excitement; Merlin, the non-adventurous, with grumbling reluctance.
Merlin had set out with Arthur earlier that day to “get out of the castle.” Arthur had been feeling quite restless and had decided he and Merlin needed to take a jaunt outside of Camelot to “stretch their legs” and “air their lungs.” His father had wanted Arthur to take a few knights with him, but Arthur had steadfastly refused, not wanting a bevy of knights to slow him needlessly down or to steal some of the fresh country air his lungs so desperately needed.
No, this was a jaunt for Arthur and his servant - he could not ride alone, could he? - and so Arthur had clapped Merlin gleefully on the back, had asked him to prepare the horses, and then the two of them had embarked on a heedless journey to nowhere in particular.
The jaunt had led them to this wooded area, which Arthur suggested looked like a “swell place to explore, wouldn’t you say Merlin?” And, so, they had dismounted, secured the horses, and entered the woods.
They had walked about a thousand paces when they had stumbled upon the first set of tracks. Intrigued, Arthur had insisted they go on in search of further tracks, which they found another furlong ahead, alongside a rocky creek bed.
Arthur was crouched down on the path, inspecting the tracks, when Merlin caught up to him. He was panting slightly, having followed a very fit and rather frolicking Arthur, who seemed almost wondrously child-like in his zest for embracing adventure.
Arthur tossed him a somewhat pained look. “Merlin, you need to start training with my knights,” he told him plainly. “I can’t have you keeling over every time you extend yourself.”
Merlin muttered something about “getting enough exercise tending to the whims and fancies of a pratly prince” but Arthur seemed - or pretended - not to hear him.
“I wonder what kind of animal made these,” Arthur mused, outlining the tracks with his fingers.
“Probably a wolf or maybe a coyote?” Merlin offered, walking over to the creek to quench his thirst.
“This size?” Arthur countered. “And with such long claws?”
Merlin paused in his drinking. “A wildren maybe?” He hoped not. He hated those giant baby rats.
“Not likely,” Arthur returned, stretching up from his crouching position. He joined Merlin at the creek bed, taking some water. “I think we should follow them a little further,” he said.
Merlin gave Arthur his most pitifully miserable look.
Arthur chuckled. “Come on, Merlin, don’t be such a dud. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He clapped Merlin on the back, which only told Merlin he was in for some kind of adventure he was bound not to enjoy.
But, in fairness, Merlin had to admit he rather enjoyed these little “jaunts” with Arthur, especially when it was just the two of them. Arthur was at his most relaxed during these times, playful even. And though he tended to rib Merlin constantly and quite mercilessly, Merlin felt it was one of the few times Arthur could be himself. Just Arthur, not the Prince of Camelot. Merlin’s friend, not his master.
So, to satisfy Arthur’s curiosity and adventurous spirit, they trekked on further into the woods in pursuit of the mysterious tracks.
Another thousand yards or so, they came to a small clearing where Arthur picked up the tracks once more. Again, he crouched down to inspect them, Merlin hovering over his shoulder to take a look. They were both caught unawares when a great monstrous beast leapt out from the trees toward them.
Arthur, as always the lightening quick warrior, shoved Merlin protectively aside, drawing his sword which he had tucked into his belt next to his dagger.
The beast, somewhat resembling a monstrous dog but, strangely, with the svelte body of a lion, was covered in wild tufts of black fur. Its feral appearance was enhanced by huge jutting teeth, goblin-like ears, and blood red eyes. It growled menacingly at Arthur, its massive tail swishing wildly. It extended a great paw, long sharp claws reaching out ominously.
Definitely not wildren tracks, Merlin thought, though now he almost wished they had been. This creature was the size of a bear and, though Merlin couldn’t be absolutely sure, he thought it fit the description of a barghest, a demon-dog or spectre-hound, a mythical creature fancifully told in many folklore stories generations down, stories that Merlin had always thought were just meant to scare women and children.
Well, Merlin admitted, seeing the feral beast up close and personal, he was certainly scared, terrified actually, especially now that he remembered the tales often claimed the barghest as a portent of death. According to the myth, those who looked upon it would soon meet their demise. Seeing those fangs and claws, the beast’s ferocious gaze locked on Arthur, Merlin decided that death seemed very likely for the both of them.
Arthur circled the beast, sword at the ready, trying to map out a strategy that would allow him to strike the beast while avoiding the sharp claws and teeth. This was not proving easy, Merlin noticed, as the beast turned with Arthur, apparently mapping out its own strategy to attack Arthur while avoiding the blade of his sword.
Arthur suddenly struck, managing to land a non-fatal blow to the beast’s shoulder, but he had to pull back quickly to avoid the swiping claws aimed at his chest, and he stumbled slightly. His footing held, but Merlin could tell that Arthur was struggling to maintain his trained agility, the beast tracking his every move, looking for an opportunity to strike back.
Arthur attempted to strike again, but this time the beast beat him to the strike, cuffing Arthur’s shoulder with his monstrous paw, knocking him clear across the ground with such force that Arthur lost his hold on the sword hilt and it fell to the ground away from him as Arthur rolled and skidded on the earth.
Arthur looked up at the beast, eyeing his sword laying a good ten feet away from him, gauging whether he could retrieve it given the distance. He pulled his dagger, his assessment obviously negative, and then looked at Merlin imploringly. “Run, Merlin! Get out of here! I can’t beat him! You must run!”
Merlin felt his body grip with terror as the beast positioned himself above Arthur, teeth showing, claws extended, Arthur with only his dagger to protect him, which would not be enough.
Merlin had no choice. To protect Arthur from the attacking beast, he had to use his magic - and he had to risk using it right in front of Arthur. There was no other option.
With barely a moment’s hesitation, Merlin reached out his hand, aiming it toward the beast. He called up all of his inner magical strength, his eyes glowing gold as he uttered a few words, words that no doubt sounded strange to the ears of those - like Arthur - who were not schooled in magic.
The beast was momentarily stayed. And with another recitation of strange words and glowing eyes, the beast was forced powerfully back, falling to the ground in defeat.
But before Merlin could even begin to consider the consequences of using his magic openly, he heard Arthur shout, “Merlin, look out!”
Another beast had appeared and attacked Merlin from behind. Merlin felt a searing pain in his left shoulder as the beast plunged a claw into his flesh, pushing it straight through to the front of his chest, then painfully drawing it back out again.
Merlin was only vaguely aware of Arthur storming forward, sword thrusting in fury at the beast, before consciousness slipped away and he crumbled to the ground in a lifeless heap.
**********
Arthur was hunched over Merlin’s body, fear and pain racking through his own. He had managed to slay the beast, but had taken a sharp claw in the thigh, and blood now oozed from the gash through the ripped fabric of his riding breeches. The wound was serious but not life-threatening and his injury was not what was making him afraid. No, his fear was stimulated by Merlin’s seemingly lifeless form, the gash through his shoulder pouring with blood...so much blood.
“Merlin,” Arthur called but he received no response. Arthur bent his head close to Merlin’s, putting an ear to his mouth, listening for some sign of life. Please, Arthur begged to no one in particular, please don’t let him be dead.
Merlin’s breathing was very faint but Arthur was relieved there was still breath in him. Still, Arthur knew that unless he did something - something damnit - his friend would likely end up like the corpse he already looked like.
Arthur looked about their surroundings, trying to regain his bearings. They had walked a distance of about a mile and a half from where they had dismounted their horses, east - no, west - through the wooded area, around that creek bed where they had taken water. The loss of blood was making Arthur feel light-headed and a little woozy, and he struggled to maintain his concentration. He had to find shelter for Merlin, to protect him from any further attacks, to keep him warm and nurse his injury the best he could to keep him alive until his father sent a rescue party, as Arthur knew his father would once he realized Arthur had not returned to Camelot.
There had been a cave just north - or was it south? - of the creek, Arthur remembered, that would provide ample protection from the elements and any lurking beasts. But it was at least a couple thousand paces away. Arthur would have to carry Merlin - what choice was there? - and endure the pain and weakness in his injured thigh as he covered the ground to the cave with Merlin’s extra weight.
Arthur took stock of their supplies. His first priority was to try and stop the bleeding in his thigh and to do what he could for Merlin so that he could carry him the distance without leaving a telltale trail of blood that would potentially attract more of those monstrous menacing beasts. Arthur was sure he and Merlin would not survive if they encountered another.
Arthur looked through Merlin’s leather satchel, discovering a few loose bandages and some healing ointment. Thankfully, Gaius usually insisted that Merlin pack some medical supplies in the bag he carried, but Arthur would need these to clean and treat Merlin’s wound once they got to the creek bed and the relative safety of the cave. What he needed was a make-shift tourniquet for his thigh and something more substantial to soak up the blood oozing from Merlin’s shoulder.
Arthur considered using his own belt for the tourniquet but realized he needed it to tuck away his dagger and sword, especially since he would have to carry Merlin and their light satchels. So, he decided to use Merlin’s belt instead, carefully removing it from around Merlin’s tunic which was holding it at the waist. Then, Arthur tied Merlin’s leather belt tightly around his left thigh, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down some. Arthur then tended to Merlin, working as fast as he could so that they could get moving before they attracted the attention of any other wood creatures. Surely, the smell of the slain dog-beasts, or whatever they were, might draw notice from curious scavengers.
He tore off a part of his own tunic and applied it to the gushing wound on Merlin’s shoulder. The fabric soaked up the blood quickly. Arthur then removed Merlin’s scarf, thinking he could wrap it around Merlin’s shoulder and under his armpit to hold it securely in place over the blood-soaked tunic fabric. Arthur did just that, eyeing Merlin with grave concern, hoping beyond hope that his servant - his friend - would open his eyes soon and acknowledge life. But Merlin remained unconscious.
Arthur shrugged out of his brown leather vest and put it on Merlin, figuring this would at least keep him somewhat warm even though it probably wouldn’t offer much added protection. Arthur cursed himself for not having worn his long brown cloak, which would have afforded more warmth for Merlin. He collected his dagger and sword, tucking them into his belt, swung the leather satchels over his shoulder, and then set about picking up Merlin, for once thankful for his lean, slender frame, though his body did feel much heavier in its unconscious state.
He tested his leg. It would be a long limping walk to the cave, Arthur knew, with several rests needed along the way. He gathered up as much warrior strength as he could and began the arduous journey, focusing on getting to the creek bed, praying Merlin would hold on, would stay with him.
********
Arthur managed the thousand yards or so to the cave over the next few hours, stopping every fifty paces or so to rest his leg and to momentarily ease his burden. Each time he stopped to rest, he checked on Merlin, making sure he was breathing, assessing the wound wrapped in the now thoroughly blood-soaked scarf. Merlin still had not stirred and Arthur noticed the perspiration gathering on Merlin’s forehead and brows, the telltale beginnings of a fever. He ripped off another section of his tunic and dabbed the fabric across Merlin’s forehead. Just a few more paces to the rocky creek bed and the cave.
At the creek bed, Arthur set Merlin down gently. He went to the creek and thirst fully drank up a handful of water. He then dipped the tunic fabric in the cold water, soaking it, and returned to Merlin, first trickling some water in Merlin’s mouth to feed his feverish thirst, then swabbing the wet cold fabric across his forehead. Arthur repeated this several times before gathering Merlin up again to make the short trek to the cave just around to the north of the flowing creek. Once he got Merlin to shelter, he would come back to the creek to soak the bandages and to try and gather some more water for both drinking and cleaning their wounds.
The cave was small and dark but it afforded sufficient shelter. Arthur carried Merlin into the cave and, not being able to see beyond a few feet in front of him, he set Merlin down close to the mouth opening where the dregs of daylight still trickled through. That would soon change as night came and Arthur contemplated a few of their options.
He settled Merlin on the ground as best as he could against the rock wall. He could just make out Merlin’s face, feverish, sickly, completely vulnerable. Arthur covered his own eyes with the heels of his palms, pressing them into the sockets, trying to force out the heavy tiredness and the weighty anxiety he was feeling in his worry over Merlin - Merlin, who had saved him from the clutches of certain death but was now hovering on the edge of his own deathbed.
Arthur recalled the power emanating from Merlin as he magically struck down the beast. Arthur had never seen anything so fantastic, so formidable, so amazingly powerful. Just a few words and concentrated effort and the beast had been defeated. Arthur realized that it must have cost Merlin much to reveal his true self in order to save him. How many other times had Merlin done the same without Arthur ever having been aware?
Arthur bent close to Merlin. “Merlin,” he called softly in an effort to draw his attention. “I need you to use your magic. I need you to make a fire so you can stay warm and I can tend to your wound better with some light.” Merlin did not respond. Arthur cradled Merlin’s head between his hands and bent his head close to Merlin’s ear. “Please, Merlin. I need you to do this for me. I need you to make a fire. Please.”
Arthur felt something stir inside Merlin, although his friend did not seem to be conscious. A golden glow emanated from his body, mostly about his eyes, which were still shut. A small fire sprung up about three feet to the right of them, away from the cave opening.
Arthur could immediately feel the warmth of its radiating embers and he could now better see Merlin’s face in the light being cast over them. He smiled. “That’s it, Merlin. That’s it. Now you can stay warm.” Arthur reached for Merlin’s leather satchel. “Now let’s see what I can do about cleaning and dressing your wound.”
Arthur went back to the creek with their bags. He soaked the bandages from Merlin’s satchel, placing them back inside the leather pouch. He filled his own leather bag, which he had emptied in the cave, with water, hoping the well-made leather carry-all with the Pendragon seal would serve as an ample vessel for retaining and transporting the liquid. On the way back to the cave, Arthur deliberately carved out markers with his dagger along the path, figuring any knights involved in a rescue effort would recognize his message and be led to the cave where he and Merlin would be waiting.
Arthur tended to Merlin’s wound first, applying the soaked bandages to clean the wound as best as he could. The bleeding had finally slowed but the wound did not look good. He opened the jar of ointment and smeared most of it on the entry and exit points of Merlin’s wound, hoping it was one of Gaius’ healing salves. It certainly smelled like it. Then Arthur ripped off another piece of his tunic - there was starting to not be much left for his belt to grab on to so he took it off and set it, with his dagger, down on the ground next to his sword - and tied it around Merlin’s shoulder. He hand cupped some water carefully into Merlin’s mouth and then set about cleaning his own wound, rubbing the meagre amount of ointment left onto the gash, returning the tourniquet belt to prevent further bleeding. Arthur had been wounded enough times in his life to know that he would out-endure his injury, though he would end up with a nasty scar on his upper thigh. But Merlin...Arthur could barely endure thinking about what fate awaited his friend.
Night had fallen and the cave grew darker and colder. Arthur saw Merlin shiver, the first sign of ‘life’ Merlin had shown since he had been struck down by the beast, but Arthur knew it was most likely the fever taking greater hold, and this was not a good thing. Merlin needed to stay warm and, though the magical fire was still giving off heat, it was not quite enough to counter the effects of Merlin’s feverish quivering.
So, deciding to lend his body heat which would serve them both, Arthur settled on the cave ground next to Merlin, pulling his body halfway over his uninjured side, wrapping his right arm around Merlin’s neck and shoulder. His dagger and sword lay next to his left side, ready to be taken up should any unwelcome creatures or strangers enter the cave. It was a less than ideal combat-ready position, having his dominant arm occupied and his weaker arm free, but it was a position that was necessary for the sake of both of their wounds.
“There, Merlin,” he said soothingly, tightening his arm around his friend to stimulate warmth. “I’ll help you stay warm.” Arthur found himself chuckling. “You know, I suspect you’ve always wanted me to hug you,” he joked, near hysterics. “So you should be quite happy that you’re finally getting your way.”
Merlin said nothing but Arthur pretended that his servant-friend had made one of his usual cheeky retorts. “Say what you will, Merlin,” Arthur responded, “but you can’t fool me.”
For a while, Arthur and Merlin rested quietly, both benefitting from the combined body heat, most of which was being contributed by Arthur. Then, as his fever peaked more strongly, Merlin began to get restless and he thrashed around in Arthur’s arms, despite his barely-held consciousness. Arthur tried to settle him, whispering calming words, but Merlin continued to thrash erratically and then began to feverishly mutter.
“Arthur!...Must save Arthur!...Use magic...Save Arthur!”
Arthur tried to comfort him. “I’m safe, Merlin. You saved me. I’m safe.”
But Merlin continued to mutter, almost frantic. “Save Arthur!...Use magic...Save Arthur...Love him...Love Arthur....Must save him!....Use magic...”
Arthur pulled Merlin close, trying to calm and soothe him, letting the tears fall shamelessly down his cheeks. “I’m safe, Merlin,” he repeated. “You saved me. I’m safe.”
********
Arthur woke suddenly, startled. The fire Merlin had magically created had died down some and it was colder now in the cave. He must have fallen asleep, but for how long he was uncertain. Merlin felt heavy in his arms, his body cold. Terror gripped Arthur and rattled his soul. Was Merlin...?
Arthur shifted so he could inspect Merlin. Merlin’s eyes were shut - they hadn’t ever really opened - and he looked somewhat peaceful. Arthur gripped his collar, pulling Merlin toward him. “Merlin!” he cried. “Merlin!” Merlin did not respond. Arthur’s heart plunged in despair. He would never forgive himself if Merlin had passed while he was asleep.
Arthur shook Merlin, then put an ear to his friend’s mouth, checking again for breathing. He could neither hear nor feel any breath. No! Arthur shook Merlin again. “No, Merlin! Stay with me! Please! I need you to stay with me!” Arthur was still shaking Merlin, aware that tears were now streaming down his cheeks. “Please! I can’t do this alone, Merlin!” Arthur continued despairingly. “I cannot be a great king without you! I need you, Merlin. Please. I love you and I need you. Please stay with me.”
Arthur touched his lips to Merlin’s, hoping by some miracle or magic, that his own life could be taken from him and given to Merlin. Merlin had to live. If he lost Merlin, Arthur did not know how he could go on. He would prefer death than to have to live in despair over losing the one person he finally realized he loved the most.
Arthur felt Merlin’s lips move faintly beneath his and he sank his head to Merlin’s chest, now sobbing, overwhelming relief taking over his emotionally battered body.
“....love you,” Arthur heard Merlin murmur weakly. “Arthur...love...you.”
Arthur continued to sob as he again cradled Merlin against him, wrapping his arms around him to keep him warm. He would not fall asleep again. He had to make sure Merlin stayed alive. He had to make sure Merlin would not leave him.
********
It was some time just after day break when the knights found the cave, guided by the markers placed by their prince. There, they found Arthur and his servant, both wounded, clutched together, the remnants of what looked like a fire now smouldering out. Ever vigilant, Arthur grabbed his sword when they entered through the opening, prepared to defend against foe, even in the weak and injured state he was clearly in. He dropped it tiredly when he realized the foes were in fact friends, his knights dressed in regal red cloaks, accompanied by an aging man with kind eyes and a gentle touch.
Gaius bent over him, untying the make-shift tourniquet to assess the injury to his thigh. Arthur pushed his hands away. “No! Help Merlin!”
“But, sire, you’re injured,” Gaius responded gently, “and your father has commanded that your safety be our priority.” Arthur saw Gaius looking at Merlin, grave concern in his eyes.
“I don’t care what my father has said. I don’t matter right now, Gaius,” Arthur said. “Help Merlin. Please. He can’t die, Gaius. He can’t die.”
Gaius abided Arthur’s wishes and turned his attention to Merlin. Once assured that Merlin was in the most capable hands there ever was, Arthur finally surrendered to sleep. He was barely aware of being carried out of the cave by his knights, Merlin being carried similarly behind him, Gaius following with fatherly concern and direction.
********
Merlin slowly became aware of his surroundings, feeling the soft bed and plump pillows, taking in the royal red and gold coverlet and canopy. Arthur’s chambers? Arthur’s bed?
“Arthur!” Merlin cried, shooting his body upward as he did. He felt a dull pain in his left shoulder. He remembered the beast wounding him, Arthur charging forward with sword in hand....What had happened? Where was Arthur?
“It’s alright, Merlin,” Gaius said soothingly from the bedside. The old man patted Merlin’s arm, a look of relief in his eyes. “You are going to be fine, dear boy,” he said, then seeing the panic still in Merlin’s eyes, he added, “And Arthur is fine too.”
Gaius now stood. “In fact, I had better go fetch him before he has my head on the chopping block.” His eyes twinkled. “Arthur explicitly ordered me to retrieve him should you wake while he was gone.”
“Gone?” Merlin asked, his mind foggy.
Gaius smiled. “He hasn’t left your side since we brought you both back. But I finally insisted that he go to the kitchen to get something to eat - court physician’s orders - promising him that I would stay with you in case you woke.”
But Gaius didn’t even make it to door on his way to fetch the prince before Arthur returned to his chambers. He now limped into the room, carrying a plate of cheese, bread and fruit.
His face broke into a smile when he saw Merlin was awake and sitting up. Then he turned on Gaius and admonished, “Gaius, I specifically ordered you to fetch me when Merlin awoke.”
Gaius set his mouth firmly to hide his own forming smile. “I was just on my way, sire.”
He started for the door as Arthur, favouring his left leg, took up his place at Merlin’s bedside, mumbling something about letting the two of them have some time alone.
Arthur sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked Merlin.
Merlin thought he should be asking Arthur the same question. Arthur looked war-weary, completely drained. “Okay,” Merlin said, then asked, “How about you?” He pointed toward Arthur’s leg, which had obviously been injured.
“It’s just a scratch,” Arthur fibbed gallantly. “That beast thought he could take me out before I got him.”
They had now finally come to it.
“Arthur, about what you saw....”
“I know what I saw, Merlin.” Arthur said. “It was the most fantastic and powerful thing I have ever witnessed.” He saw the fear in Merlin’s eyes. “It’s alright, Merlin. Your secret is safe with me.”
“What, you’re not going to have me executed?” Merlin could hardly believe it, though deep down inside he knew he could trust Arthur.
“Now why would I go to all that trouble to keep you alive and bring you back safely to Camelot, just to have you hanged?” Arthur intoned with amused incredulity. Then he looked at Merlin with an intensity Merlin had never seen before. He whispered with heartfelt tenderness, “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, Merlin.”
All of a sudden, snippets of the last few days came flooding back to Merlin. Arthur carrying him. Arthur tending to his wound. Arthur asking him to create a fire with his magic. Arthur holding him, keeping him warm, comforting him. Arthur touching his lips to his. Arthur telling him he needed him, that he loved him. And, here, back in Camelot, Arthur staying at bedside, tending to him while he recovered. Arthur laying beside him while he slept. Arthur telling his father that he would not leave Merlin’s side until he was certain his friend would be all right, telling the king that he needed Merlin and could not think of performing his princely duties without him.
Arthur’s voice broke into these fragmented memories. “Merlin, in the cave....” Arthur began. “You were delirious from fever, I know, but...”
Merlin looked at Arthur expectantly, encouraging him to go on.
“You said you loved me.”
“Well,” said Merlin, “I can’t imagine I would have said such a thing...” He saw Arthur’s hopefulness fall. “Unless it were true,” he finished.
Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand and invited him under the coverlet beside him. Arthur obliged quite willingly, pressing his body in close to Merlin. His blue eyes, more vulnerable than Merlin had ever seen them, looked deeply into Merlin’s own blue ones. “Merlin, I need you. Promise me you’ll never leave me,” he said.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Merlin replied softly, pulling Arthur closer into him. “Now sleep,” he told him.
Gaius had returned to Arthur’s chambers to check on the lads and saw them nestled together under the coverlet of Arthur’s bed. He smiled. Then, without a word, he turned away and left discreetly.