Title: Of Camping and Other Bad Ideas

Fandom: Merlin

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, fluff

Summary: "Are you usually this bad at singing, or is this a special occasion?"

"Are you usually this slow at making a move, or is this a special occasion?"


"Hey Arthur, you lout! Get your arse back here—"

Arthur let out a sharp bark of laughter and ran faster, nearly smashing into the trees and hanging branches. He was pretty sure his shins were scrapped but the adrenaline pushed him on. He could barely hear Lance above the sound of his own rough breathing, heart pounding in his ears.

"I swear to all that's dear to you, Art- there's nothing going to be left alive of you after this!" Lancelot's yell sounded nearer and Arthur giddily decided to ditch the obvious trail he was following and weaved through a thicker growth of trees.

His arms brushed the bark and he smelled the sharp tang of his blood over the overwhelming smell of earth. He clutched the bundle of clothes tighter under his arms, nimbly leaping over the grasping roots of the trees. Lancelot could be a really fast bugger, especially if he was pissed at him.

He stopped behind a large tree to get his breath back. Panting, he raised his arm where the slightest twinge ran up his shoulder.

The good news was that it didn't pain him.

The bad news was that it was worse than he had thought.

The gash ran up his forearm to his elbow, dirt and god knows what stuck in the wound, flowing out with his blood in a steady flow.

"Bloody hell."

He groaned. He could practically hear his mother and Morgana chiding him collectively. He rolled his eyes when he imagined Morgana's snide barb ridden concern.

Honestly, this is such a stupid thing to die over. Must you still be this immature, Arthur?

"You're a pain in the arse, Morgana." He muttered, trying to staunch the blood flow and trying to decide if it was worth braving the trip back. Lancelot would be cheesed, but he would surely be distracted over the fact that Arthur was wounded.

And then he would call your mother and your sister and you will get the tongue lashing of your life over this and you'll never be allowed out of your house again.

Arthur scowled and decided to use the clothes he had nicked from the shore, Lancelot's whining be damned.

The pain started to set in as his breath slowed down and he winced. Setting the bundled up shirt against it, he tried to calculate the odds of making it back before it fell dark and became impossible to cross the forest safely.

It was already twilight. The air seemed heavier somehow, darker swirling through the menacing shadows of the trees. His hair stuck to his head as his sweat trickled down as lazily down his temple as his blood from his arm. He looked ruefully in the direction of the trees where he came from and tried to decide if Lancelot would have given up hunting him by now to hear him yell for help.

A twig snapped behind his back in the forest and he whipped around, hissing as he stepped into some bramble.

"Who's there?" He called out, feeling foolish. These woods had been abandoned for a while, and it was really unlikely that someone had decided to camp out this far from the spring- this far into the heart of the jungle.

A faint whisper of wind answered him. He tensed, moving silently around the dead branches towards the direction where the sound had come from. This wasn't a moment he was going to ignore his instincts, not in this wild forest of all places.

He crouched down and picked up a heavy branch, keeping his eyes on the dark trees and their long reaching heavy shadows. He would have preferred maybe something better to wield, specially with his other arm injured, but he would have to make do with it. His palm scrapped up slightly as he adjusted his grip and tried to hold down the shirt on his elbow at the same time.

If it were something carnivorous, he would be able to barely do more than batting it away slightly and making it angrier. If it were something smaller, he could make it at least wary to attack if it sensed his Alpha pheromones. Not that it would do much good-he was wounded and an easy prey. Animals could smell the wound in his pheromones itself.

Stupid, stupid boy! His mother chided him in his head. His lips twitched and he tried to remember if he'd told her that he loved her before he'd ran away from the Manor. Now he'd probably never get a chance to see her again.

Are you honestly giving up now?

His back straightened as adrenaline started pumping through his blood again. The harsh no clawed its way viciously up his throat and his teeth gritted in response. His fist clenched around the branch and he stepped further in, bristling with anger and anticipation.

A sudden growl had him raising his club, his shirt falling away with his arm hanging limply at his side, as something huge-humongous black- leaped up at him with its fangs bared and he braced himself, swinging the branch and clubbing the creature with it. A howl informed him of having hit his target.

"No-Kilgharrah!"

A decidedly human shout interrupted the snarling beast from rounding back on Arthur and he stumbled back in shock, catching the sight of a dark haired man, making his way towards them. Arthur tried to warn the man but the beast rounded on him, gnashing its sharp teeth and pouncing on him.

He went down like a sack of bricks, hitting his head painfully-white flashing behind his eyes- the beast's sharp claws digging into his thighs and its snout nosing down towards his throat, saliva dripping down its exposed teeth.

There was a horrified yell and the man sounded as if he was really close. Arthur closed his eyes and grimaced as the animal bit at his jacket and followed down to his elbow. Arthur's body was pinned to the floor, with the harsh ground digging into his back and he wondered, stupidly,if Mum would be angry with him for ruining another shirt. The sharp sensation of teeth sinking into his elbow had him jerking out of his thoughts to a blackening vision.

"Kilgharrah, bad boy-No!"

Sodding hell, who was Kilgharrah? And when did the sun even set?

He squinted up, half delirious from the pain and almost slipping off the edge of consciousness. A dark shadow was hovering over him, pulling the heavy weight (the totally mental beast –he reminded himself- and an even barmier fellow for treating it like a common house dog) off his splayed body. An embarrassingly high-pitched yelp made its way out of his throat as the claws were ripped away from his legs. Black dots started dancing their way across his sight, and his eyes went blurry.

He could barely make out the guy (barmier than probably even those girls who used to follow him around) who by all means should have been running away from the ferocious animal, not chiding it like he was its keeper-especially when-

"Omega…" He muttered silently, a smidgen of light flavour bursting in through his clogged nose and working their way up his woozy head.

The guy froze beside him, turning back to look at him. He mouthed the words again, with a faint sense of astonishment.

Impossible.

His head throbbed and his eyelids dropped, slipping away from his tenuous grasp on reality, taking with it the memory of captivating blue eyes watching him.


To any other readers who clicked this : thank you for doing so. Let's hope I do a good job with the fic! Reviews are what I feed on for inspiration so it would be great if you did leave one and let me know how I'm doing!

To the person this is dedicated to: Are you pleased? Fluff comes a bit difficult to me but I'll try to make it worth your while.

Hope this kinda makes up for your shitty day (yeah it already did, but how many times do you see me writing Merthur? And planning on completing it?). I might botch up horribly but then, I'm depending on you to tell me if I do.

Happy or sad ending? I can work with both :)