Searing pain was the first thing that Merlin registered.
He gasped, dimly aware that he was on the ground. The rocks underneath him bit through his thin jacket, but he had more pressing things to worry about: namely, the immense pain radiating from his chest and the house-sized creature writhing on the ground not two feet away from him.
The first thing he needed to do was check to make sure that the beast hadn't crushed any of his friends. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Merlin raised himself on his elbows and peered around the hairy, twitching foot to where he remembered they had fallen. Catching a glimpse of the crimson colors of Camelot, he strained for a few moments to make sure they were all accounted for: Gwaine, check. Percival and Elyan, check. And- Merlin released a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding- there was Arthur, still propped unceremoniously against a rock where Merlin had left him. His mouth had fallen open at a strange angle and his chin was squashed against his chest in a comical way that made Merlin chuckle- which proved to be a bad decision.
He fell back again with a strangled gasp, his side flaring with heat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for what felt like several minutes for it to subside. When he chanced moving again he felt along the front of his shirt, looking for any holes or burns that would explain the pain. Finding nothing, he frowned, eased himself into a sitting position, and inspected his shirt more closely. Still nothing.
That didn't make any sense. Merlin could remember getting hit with something that the beast had flung out seconds before it collapsed. While he hadn't seen what it was, he had assumed from the force of the impact, which had sent him flying back several feet, and the sharp pain that it had been a barb or stinger of some sort.
He heard a strangled groan and was on his feet in seconds. He knew the drill. In a few minutes the knights and Arthur would be on their feet again and demanding answers- Merlin had been through enough of these skirmishes to predict both their questions and his responses.
Percival was the first one up, which made sense as he had been the first one to go down. He blinked bemusedly around as his comrades stirred around him, all of them opening their eyes to see Merlin standing there, the perfect picture of wide-eyed innocence, handkerchief and hair askew but otherwise unharmed.
"Merlin?" Arthur's voice was froggy and hoarse. He winced as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head, and Merlin wondered if he had dropped him a little too quickly on the rock.
"What happened?" The question belonged to Gwaine, who had shaken off the stupor much more quickly than the others, perhaps because of all of his experience with daily hangovers. He was already on his feet and approaching the fallen beast with his sword drawn, expression wary and suspicious.
"I've only just woken up myself," Merlin said, drawing attention back to himself. He chose his words carefully, but the lies sprang to his tongue without much prompting. "But I saw what happened. You don't remember, Arthur?"
"Remember… what?" Arthur rubbed his head with another wince.
"You had already been knocked aside by the beast's tail," Merlin said, making sure to keep his stance open and his muscles relaxed. "Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine had already been- dispatched, as you saw."
Gwaine shot Merlin a look, but Arthur nodded, expression twisted as he struggled to remember.
"Yes, I recall that much."
"Well, you got knocked aside by the beast's tail, but just before you passed out you threw your sword at the creature. Pierced its heart. You were unconscious by the time it died, but it was quite the sight. Rampaged around for a bit, kicked a few trees- it managed to get the sword out and kind of chucked it across the clearing-" Everyone's eyes moved to Arthur's sword, which lay at his feet. "And then it died," Merlin finished with a shrug, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs. No matter how many times he did it or how easily it came to him, Merlin was always nervous when lying. He was confident that it didn't show, however, as Arthur was already nodding, taking every word of it to heart.
"Yes," he murmured, almost to himself, "that does sound about right." Merlin had definitely dropped him on the rocks a little too hard.
As he heaved himself to his feet Merlin grabbed Arthur's sword and handed it to the king. He wondered if Arthur was going to question the lack of blood on it, but the man just sheathed it and walked closer to the beast, passing Merlin without another glance. "What is it?" he said, prodding it with the toe of his shoe.
"I don't know, Sire," said Elyan, helping Percival to his feet before joining Arthur next to the corpse. "It doesn't look like anything I've ever seen."
"It had magic," Gwaine noted, bending down close and examining its snout, which was still dripping a steady stream of grayish snot. Gwaine wrinkled his nose and stood up. "Remember the fire balls? Nearly took my head off."
Merlin didn't voice his own confusion, but it was there. He too stared down at the beast, desperately searching his memory for the name of it. He normally prided himself on his knowledge of magical creatures, but that was failing him now. The creature was something of a cross between a bear and a lizard, covered in bristly dirt-colored fur but with claws better suited to a dragon. Its tail was long, scaly, and forked at the end, and Merlin knew that underneath the closed eyelids were yellow slits that had reflected the fire it had shot from its mouth at the offending knights who had done nothing but camp too close to its clearing.
"And you, Merlin?"
Merlin blinked, startled out of his thoughts, and looked up to see Arthur looking at him, eyebrows arched.
"Huh?" he asked.
Arthur didn't try to hide his disdained eye roll. "You said you had been knocked out as well," he said, speaking very slowly, as though to a child. Merlin thought that was a little bit high and mighty seeing as his chainmail was still crooked from his fall. "How did that happen?"
Just as before, a thousand lies sprang to Merlin's lips: he had been caught by a paw. It had wrapped him in its tail and flung him across the clearing. He had bravely jumped in front of the way when the wounded beast had strayed too close to the fallen king, sacrificing his own life for the safety of his master.
"I tripped," Merlin said without thinking.
He heard one of the knights snort, and he shot them a glare; all of them just looked back with politely interested expressions. Gritting his teeth, he looked back at Arthur, who was staring at him incredulously.
"You tripped?" Disbelief colored his words. It was clear that even he was surprised by this new low.
"I was trying to get out of its way." Merlin's voice dropped to a mumble. "I tripped over a root and hit my head on a rock."
"You-" Arthur turned away, looking up at the sky and shaking his head. His mouth twisted in amusement. "You never cease to amaze me. You tripped. On a root."
"Trying to avoid a flailing monster!" Merlin's voice came out defensive, and rightly so; he felt his cheeks burning in embarrassment. He could almost read the knight's thoughts: Silly Merlin, couldn't hurt a fly even if he was given a hammer and the fly was dead.
"You can't even pass out heroically." Still shaking his head, Arthur walked past Merlin, clapping him on the shoulder so hard Merlin felt his knees give, having used up most of his energy fighting the creature. The pain flared up in his chest again and he turned away, biting his tongue to keep from shouting out.
"Let's head back," Arthur announced to his knights. "I'm sure all game within a five mile radius is on the run after all of this. If we get moving we can be back by sunset. Merlin, pack up camp."
Merlin glared at Arthur's back. He was exhausted. He had just used an impressive amount of magic to fight that thing and every time he moved a spike of pain ran through his chest, and on top of all that, he had worked so late into the night setting up camp and had gotten up so early to make breakfast that he was running on very little sleep as it was. And now he was going to have to carry all the gear back to Camelot while Arthur marched ahead with that stupid smirk of his, bragging about how he had defeated a magical beast.
"Right away, Sire," Merlin muttered, turning and stomping back through the underbrush to their meager campsite, still mumbling insults to the king under his breath.
It took a lot of effort to ease himself into a position that put little strain on his wound- if there was a wound; Merlin hadn't had the privacy to actually check- and still gave him a good reach to gather up the blankets and cooking equipment. Arthur had only planned for this hunt to be a day or two long, so they hadn't even taken horses with them. No, they had just used Merlin as a human pack mule and loaded him with everything they needed.
"Don't let it get to you." The bag Merlin was packing was lifted out of his hand. He looked up to see Gwaine shaking dust off of a pot and slipping it into the pack. He had a slight bruise above his right eye, probably from falling, but his grin was unaffected by his injuries.
"When do I ever let things get to me?" His voice came out snappier than he'd meant it to. Irritated, Merlin snatched up Arthur's blanket and started rolling it up, desiring nothing more than to rip the artisan weaving to shreds.
"He's just being his usual arrogant self. You have to let it bounce off you."
Merlin looked up at his friend. Although he was still thrumming with anger at Arthur's obliviousness, he raised his eyebrows. "I don't think knights are supposed to talk about their king like that."
"Hey, we're all thinking it. I'm just the only one brave enough to say it." Tying off the bag, Gwaine set it down and ruffled Merlin's hair. Merlin ducked away, trying to look miffed but unable to muster it. The knight, whom Merlin regarded as one of his closest friends, always managed to cheer him up. "I've got to go and help princess clean up. When we get back to Camelot, you and I are hitting the tavern to celebrate not dying yet again."
As he watched Gwaine rejoin the knights, Merlin felt the smile slipping off his face. With a sigh, he finished packing up camp and carefully pushed himself to his feet, beginning the monumental task of arranging the bags in a way that wouldn't cause him obvious pain.
He would love to join Gwaine for a 'night on the town', but Merlin knew that wouldn't be happening. For one thing, there was no way that Arthur was going to let him out of any of his duties just so he could go to the tavern. The king already thought that that was a favorite haunt of Merlin's, even though he had only been there for fun one time (and hadn't even had anything to drink). In addition, Merlin knew he would be up most of the night explaining what exactly the creature looked like to Gaius so they could figure out what it was that had attacked them. They couldn't risk there being more hiding in the forest just waiting to pounce on the kingdom. If there indeed happen to be a pack of the crazy beasts nearby Merlin would be out here every chance he got taking them down before they could get any closer. The thought made Merlin's tired bones ache. What he wouldn't give for a sleeping draught and a nice bed right about now.
"Merlin!" Arthur and the knights were all standing in the clearing, evidently waiting for him and their supplies. Arthur was glaring, and Merlin had to bite back the urge to glare back at him. The king was in a bad enough mood already. "Having a nice time relaxing over there?"
"I'm having a great time," Merlin muttered. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the last of the bags onto his back so he was stooped under their weight. Pain blossomed in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to abate just until he got back to the safety of Gaius's chambers.
"Idiot."
Merlin opened his eyes as Arthur wrenched one of the bags off his back. "Here, Elyan," he said, tossing the bag to the knight, "it appears that root took so much out of Merlin he can't even carry a few bags."
Merlin glared at Arthur's chainmail covered back as he strode through the forest to the front of the group. The others went ahead, leaving Merlin to bring up the rear, lagging further behind than he usually did to hide his occasional grunts of pain.
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"What on earth did you do to yourself?"
Merlin just shook his head as he collapsed into a chair, dropping his bag next to him. He sighed as the weight was taken off his feet; it was the first time that he had been allowed to sit all day. It had been just as he had expected. Arthur had kept him so busy from the second they returned from the hunting trip that he hadn't even been able to take his things back to his chamber.
"There was a bit of trouble," Merlin said. "We were attacked by a beast."
"A beast?"
"A magical one."
Gaius finished putting away the tinctures he had been working on, wiping his hands on a rag as he walked over to Merlin. The remains of his day's work lay strewn out over the table: piles of leftover chopped roots, dried flower petals, and miscellaneous liquids Merlin would have to scrape off the table the next day. Noting the way that his ward was holding his chest, though, he figured that cleaning up could wait a few more minutes. "Shirt off," he ordered.
"It was strange, Gaius," Merlin said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the table next to him. Gaius shot him a look as he knocked several herbs to the ground with his bad throw. "It was kind of like a bear, and kind of like an- I don't know- an alligator or something."
"A bear-alligator?" Gaius repeated doubtfully.
"Yeah," said Merlin. "And on top of that, it shot fire. It nearly-"
As his head emerged from the shirt and his eyes dropped to his chest, Merlin forgot what he was about to say. Even in the dim lighting he could tell that something was wrong.
"My dear boy." Gaius moved closer, bending close with a startled expression on his face. "What on earth did you do to yourself?"
Merlin wanted to retort that he hadn't done anything at all, it had been the psychotic monster that had done this to him, but the words didn't make it out of his mouth.
The wound- if it could be called a wound, it was more like a patch of raw-looking very red skin- was only a few inches in diameter. It wasn't the shape worrying Merlin, however. It was the fact that it was a perfect circle, as though someone had pressed a hot cup to his chest like a brand, except for purple tendrils snaking out of all sides like veins. These purple lines were hardly longer than one of Merlin's nails, but they were concerning nonetheless. He had never seen an injury like this before. He had seen infections, of course, and knew to look out for the pink discoloration and ringing of the wound, but the strange, almost artificial purple color was unlike anything he had seen on his excursions with Gaius.
"What is it?" he asked when it became clear that Gaius was too surprised to say anything.
Gaius shook his head, standing back up again. "I don't know," he said, moving back over to his medicine cabinet and opening it. The glasses tinkled as he rifled through his stock. When he turned back around again he was holding a vial of some kind of clear goo. "How did you say you got it?"
Merlin explained the invisible force he had been hit with as the beast had died and the pain that had been bothering him ever since as Gaius smeared the gunk onto the wound. The medicine was cool on his burning skin, and Merlin couldn't resist sighing in relief.
"Do you think it's magical?" he asked as Gaius capped the medicine and wiped off his fingers. "Like a spell or something?"
"It must be." Gaius looked troubled in the flickering candlelight. He set the vial back down again. "Hopefully this ointment will help draw any toxins out. For right now we're just going to have to wait and see. I'll try and do some research on the creature and find out what it's defenses are. That might be able to explain it." He turned accusing eyes on his ward. "Why didn't you come to me immediately?"
"How could I? His royal highness needed a bath." Merlin crossed his arms over his sticky chest and rolled his eyes, wishing that he and Arthur had a mental link so he could shove his disdain into his employer's head.
"And what does the king think transpired in the forest?"
"Oh, the usual. He thinks he's a hero for killing it, despite the fact that he was unconscious at the time of its death, and I'm the court jester for failing to do anything productive in the face of peril once again." Merlin had meant for this to come off sarcastic, but he knew that Gaius had heard the weary tint to it. With a sigh, his mentor drew up another chair beside him, passing over a vial of what Merlin recognized as pain medication.
"I know it's hard," he said as Merlin drained the potion in one go, wrinkling his nose at the bitter herbs. "But one day-"
"I'll be recognized for who I am and Arthur will finally appreciate all that I've done for him. Yeah, I know." Merlin dropped his gaze to the stone floor, watching the shadows crinkle in time with the fire. "I just... I'm just tired. I've been doing this for years and everyone still thinks I'm nothing but an idiot. At this point they'll never believe I have enough intelligence to be a sorcerer. I could come out and announce it over breakfast and I'd just get a few chuckles and a pat on the head. 'That's nice, Merlin, now go and fetch some more hot water.' They all think I'm completely useless!"
"That's not true."
"Yes, it is, Gaius. I know that it has to be like this, and for the most part I'm okay with it, but sometimes-" His voice broke off. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, feeling more exhausted than he ever had in his life. "I'm just sick of being a joke to everyone when all I'm doing is trying to help the best I can."
"I know, m'boy." Gaius reached out and placed a bracing hand on Merlin's knee, face grim but sympathetic. "You've come a very far way from that day you first wandered into my chambers. There is still a long and winding path ahead of you, but I am confident that you will make it through whatever your destiny throws at you. I know you must be sick of hearing it by now, but it bears repeating: one day you will be recognized for your talents. It may not be today or tomorrow, but it will be someday. Have patience."
Merlin didn't feel entirely convinced, but he smiled wearily and nodded in appreciation for the efforts. Gaius patted his knee and then heaved himself to his feet with a groan. "I'll go and fetch some bandages," he said, "and then it's off to bed with you. You look nearly dead on your feet."
As he shuffled off to his storage cupboard, Merlin glanced down at the menacing wound on his chest. He tried not to compare the purple tendrils to fingers creeping out from the center of the injury, because the comparison made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
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"You idiot!"
Merlin watched Arthur step gingerly over the broken glass and bits of fried egg, taking care of where he placed his bare feet. He lifted his gaze and fixed his trademark glare on his manservant, who glared just as fiercely back.
"What are you talking about?" Merlin shot back. "You're the one who knocked it over."
"You balanced a drink on the edge of a plate and then proceeded to balance the plate on the edge of the table!"
"Well excuse me!" Merlin snapped. "I wake up extra early to bring you and Gwen a nice breakfast-"
"That is your job, Merlin! Don't act like getting here on time is some big hassle for you!"
"And then when you proceed to smash it all over the floor you shout at me and you're probably going to expect me to clean it up-"
"That is your job, Merlin! You have got to be the most incompetent servant-"
"And you have to be the most ungrateful employer!"
Had anyone else dared talk to the king like that, they would have found themselves rubbing chafed wrists in the dungeon. As the insults were coming out of Arthur's servant of almost six years, however, he just shook his head incredulously, hair still mussed from sleep, arms crossed over his chest.
"You're completely ridiculous."
"I'm ridiculous?" Normally Merlin wouldn't be pushing the king this far so early in the morning, but he hadn't forgotten the embarrassment of yesterday. Besides, it had been a good breakfast, damn it! "Just because you've got a big fat crown doesn't mean you have to have an inflated head to go with it! You're so-" Merlin stopped abruptly and ducked as a chalice came soaring at his head. It clattered against the stone behind him, spraying water everywhere, and Merlin stood up with an even harsher glare.
"Boys, please," Guinivere moaned from the bed. She had woken up briefly when Merlin had presented breakfast, but as soon as the arguing had begun she'd lain back down, settling in for another long morning.
"He started it!" both Arthur and Merlin said at the same time before turning their backs on each other in irritation.
After a few seconds Merlin bent down and snatched the chalice up. Without another word he grabbed a rag, got down on his knees, and started picking scraps of breakfast and broken glass up. He kept his head down to avoid looking at Arthur, who moodily pulled out a chair and sat down, still glaring at the wall.
When he had cleaned the floor Merlin stood up, eyes on the ground in what would have been taken as an act of reverence on anyone else, but on Merlin was nothing but another act of defiance. "Is that all, Sire?" he asked, putting a special infliction on the last word.
"Yes," Arthur said. As Merlin turned and stomped to the door, he called, "And don't forget to muck out my stables!"
Merlin barely restrained himself from slamming the door shut behind him.
"Do you two have to be so loud this early in the morning?"
Arthur turned to his wife's tired voice to find her still lying there, blankets drawn up to her chin, eyes closed. He felt himself soften as he looked at her. Sighing, he got to his feet, being careful where he was stepping- he didn't trust Merlin's janitorial skills- and sat back down on the bed.
"You know Merlin," he mumbled, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
Guinivere's eyes opened. She fixed Arthur with a look and wiggled out of his grasp. "Oh, don't," she said.
"Don't what?" Arthur pushed himself up onto one elbow and frowned down at his wife.
"You share the same amount of blame as Merlin does."
"Excuse me?" Arthur asked incredulously. "If you haven't forgotten I am the king-"
"And Merlin is your friend."
"Merlin is my servant, and as such-"
"Oh, stop." Guinivere rolled her eyes. "Let's not do this again."
"Do what?"
"Call Merlin 'just your servant.'"
"He is!"
"He is not and you know he isn't." She threw back the covers and got to her feet, picking up her shawl from the chair next to the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Every few weeks someone asks you about your friendship with your manservant and you go off on a rant about how he's nothing more than an employee-"
"He is!" Arthur said again, but the protest was weak even to his own ears.
"I think it gets to Merlin, you know." Guinivere sat down at the table and picked up her fork.
"Merlin regards me as nothing more than his king." Arthur didn't need the look from Guinivere to know that he was lying through his teeth. Sighing again, he sat across from his wife but found that his appetite had all but disappeared.
"The only reason he isn't more open about your friendship is because he's afraid you'll reprimand him for it." Guinivere cut a small bite of sausage for herself and fixed Arthur in a stare as she chewed. "If you two communicated a bit more-"
"We communicate just fine."
"Throwing stuff isn't communication, Arthur."
"I'm pretty sure he got the message."
"Arthur."
Her tone left no room for further protests. Arthur crossed his arms and stared at the ground as Guinivere continued.
"I realize that Merlin is still technically your servant, but that does not mean you can treat him with such blatant disrespect. He does a lot for you- don't look at me like that, you know it's true- and you've never once said thank you to him."
"That's not true," Arthur muttered.
"Have you forgotten that I was once just as much a servant to you as Merlin is now?"
Arthur lifted his gaze, but his wife's tone wasn't accusatory; it was matter of-fact.
"Of course I haven't," he said gently, "and I'm not saying that I don't respect Merlin just because he's a servant. Merlin's just..." he trailed off, trying to find the word. "It's just the way we work. Merlin can take it."
Guinivere raised her eyebrows but said nothing else, leaving Arthur to frown defensively.
"What?" he said. "Merlin and I have always bickered, you know that. Merlin knows that I... he knows."
"I wouldn't be absolutely sure of that," Guinivere said.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that everyone has their breaking point, and if anyone can find Merlin's, it's going to be you."
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"Prat," Merlin muttered as he shut the door to Arthur and Gwen's chambers behind him, still holding the makeshift bag of broken glass and food.
As he stomped away Merlin felt the waves of anger already dissipating. Really, the morning had been an overreaction on both of their parts. Merlin recognized that he had been acting out of pure exhaustion and irritation directed mostly at his chest, which continued to throb painfully every few minutes, and he knew that Arthur had his own worries over trade negotiations with a nearby kingdom. It had been partly because of this that he had announced the hunting trip to alleviate stress; one wrong move in these talks and Camelot could go to war. Merlin knew that Arthur had a lot on his plate right now, and if he needed to take some of his frustrations out on his manservant he was perfectly within his rights to do so.
People don't take frustrations out on their friends, though, whispered a voice in Merlin's head. He shook his head irritably, trying to shake the thought out. Now wasn't the time to sit around wondering about he and Arthur's relationship. He knew where they stood. He had heard it a thousand times before: two sides of the same coin, blah blah blah.
Merlin passed a few young servants on his way around the corner. They smiled and said good morning to him as he passed, and he nodded his head cheerfully. As soon as they were out of sight he let his grin drop again.
Sighing, he worked his shoulder in his socket, sore from yesterday's trip. Suddenly he twisted his arm a little too far and pain flared through his chest, worse than anything he had suffered through yet. With a strangled gasp he dropped the towel, dimly hearing the shards of glass spill over the stone, but he had already pressed his back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain receded.
When it was gone, Merlin shakily lifted a hand to his shirt. Scrambling for a moment at the neck with clumsy fingers, he lifted away the fabric, gingerly pulled up some of the bandages, and squinted down at the wound he hadn't looked at since last night.
His blood ran cold. The purple tendrils had snaked out several more inches during the night.
A/N: I'm not so sure about this one, so please review if you want me to continue. I would love your feedback!
