Title: Some Wounds Are Welcome When They Receive the Proper Care
Chapter: 1[/3] "In Which Arthur Needs Stitches"
Show: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur, Merlin
Rating: T for some of sexuality and very slight gore
Word Count: 2661
Spoilers: For 1x10 & 1x13
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or its characters. I once had a plan to hog-tie Bradley and steal him for myself but was foiled by Colin, as it seems that art imitates life. (No, that last bit was a lie.)
Summary: Gwen and Arthur share an attraction, general UST and a few dirty thoughts in two different instances when they tend to each others' injuries. Pre-relationship; three-parter
A/N: So for 'research' I watched some How-To videos on doing sutures…. And they were GROSS. So, yes, being a surgeon is not my calling and if Bradley/Arthur ever needed my help stitching up a wound I would not be able to help his gorgeous self. But I digress. This is, by no means a proper way to do sutures, whether with modern day technology or in ancient times. A) I think Arthur should perhaps be lying down (but I'd already envisioned the scene so oh, well). B) There'd probably be a bit more blood than I describe (although I suppose that is the general rule with Merlin). C) I have no clue how they would go about doing stitches in Arthurian times, since contemporary sutures are nothing like straight forward sewing (not to mention that I probably don't even sew properly, the few times I've sewn a hole in a sweater, etc).
I feel the bit of a tease with the first 9 words, as I just realized. XD I don't remember doing that on purpose…
*Also posted on livejournal under the same user name.*
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Arthur clumsily unbuckled his belt with his left hand, his right preoccupied with holding the rag to a wound on his left side.
"Where's Gaius?"
Merlin set Arthur's crossbow down on the table as he entered the prince's bedroom, right on his master's heels. "Uh…" he hesitated. "Your father lent him to Lady Bendolyn. She went in to childbirth and the midwife is ill."
Arthur scoffed. "Great, now who's going to sew me up? I can't bloody well do it myself, the angle it's at."
"Well, I –"
Arthur put up his finger. "You can forget it."
Merlin rolled his eyes, but was honestly glad to avoid the inevitable complaints he'd receive. Then he had an idea.
"I can get Gwen!" Merlin replied brightly, proud of his own suggestion. "She is the best seamstress in Camelot."
"This is my skin, Merlin. Not a ripped tunic," Arthur barked.
Merlin stood silent until Arthur gave in – more easily than he might have expected.
"Well, go on. Fetch Guinevere."
Merlin nodded vigorously and ran off to find his friend.
Arthur shrugged off his vest and then his shirt, wincing a little as the cut across the bottom of his ribcage stretched from the movement. The wound was not very deep and only two inches long. But he knew that even small wounds could turn fatal if not tended to.
He pulled back the cloth he was still pressing against the wound to check on it. It seemed to have stopped bleeding, for the most part anyway. That was good. Now he just needed to clean the wound and have it stitched up. To start, he went to one of his cupboards, taking out a jar of herbal cream that Gaius once gave him for such occasions.
Then he heard the door creak behind him and turned to see Merlin return with Gwen in tow.
Arthur noticed how Gwen blushed as she bowed her head in greeting. He could only assume that she had not expected him to be half-naked. And he couldn't help but like that his body affected her like that.
"Merlin said you needed me to stitch a wound for you, sire," she said quietly.
Arthur closed the cupboard door. "Yes, Guinevere. I can't reach it myself, Gaius is preoccupied, and I wouldn't trust Merlin to not sew his own fingers together. I also hope you have a better stomach for blood than him."
Merlin rolled his eyes, making Gwen smile at how they always acted together. She knew now that Arthur's treatment of Merlin was more like that between brothers than either would care to admit.
"I'll be fine, sire," she answered.
"Good," he nodded. "So… how do you think would be best to do this? Should I stand? Lie on the bed?" He waved around with his left hand, still holding the jar of cream.
Gwen contemplated the question and looked about the room, her face turning a faint pink as she glanced over at the bed. "Perhaps… if you sit on the table and I work from the chair?"
He nodded again and hopped up onto the head of table. "Is this alright?" he asked, gesturing at his usual chair to the left of him.
"Yes, sire."
Gwen approached Arthur's left side. Taking cue, Arthur lifted the rag away once more for her to see it. Unlike many girls, as he'd guess, she was not put off by the blood and gaping flesh. Instead she bent her head to examine.
"It does not look bad, sire. But I will need to clean it first." Gwen looked up to where Merlin was hovering about. "Merlin, could you bring me a basin of water and some clean cloths?"
Merlin nodded and muttered an affirmative before rushing back out again.
Gwen sat in his chair, now eye-level with his wound and set down a small wooden box that she had brought with her.
"Once I'm finished, sire, you should have Gaius tend to you. He'll probably want to treat the wound with some medicine."
Arthur held out the jar he was still holding. "That's what this is for. Knowing what kind of trouble I get into, he thought I should have my own." He handed her the jar of cream, their fingers brushing as he did so.
Gwen set down the jar next to the small box, which she subsequently opened, revealing a sewing kit. "Well, he should probably inspect my work, regardless, sire."
"Guinevere, I'm sure you work is lovely." Gwen opened her mouth respond, but Arthur interrupted her, "However I will still go to Gaius, once he's available, if you insist."
At this point, Merlin rushed in, cloths tucked under his arm and the water sloshing slightly from its basin in his haste.
"Where should I put this?" he asked once he reached Gwen.
She took the cloths from under his arm and set them in front of her on the table. "Could you bring over that stool, please?" she asked, pointing the one in the corner. "And then you can set it next to me."
Merlin quickly brought over the stool and set it beside Gwen, then placing the water basin on top of it.
"Thank you, Merlin," she replied, smiling appreciatively at him. She turned her gaze to Arthur, her smile quickly fading.
Arthur wished she wouldn't do that. She rarely smiled freely in his presence, and the only time it ever been directed at him was after she had first discovered his recovery. But nearly all the time she acted guarded, even more so since that night she had nursed him. Much of the time he found her nervousness around him endearing. Except it left him wishing that she would one day be comfortable around him… uninhibited, even.
Arthur noted the primness of her body, poised at the edge of the chair as she thread the needle that she had selected from her box. For just a servant, she had a noble manner around her that could rival other ladies far above her station. And she often had an air about her, only noticeable when she did not realize that others were observing her, of being in control and assured of herself. She did not panic over his wound – albeit minor – but instead conducted herself calmly and determinedly.
Gwen set the prepared needle and thread down on the top of her kit, now turning to the water basin. She dipped one of the cloths into the basin, then wringing it out. Arthur was reminded of how she had once patted his forehead and chest to combat his fever, done with a tender care that he had never experienced before. But this time, with both Merlin and his conscious self as witnesses, she cleaned his wound almost the same as any other person would – 'almost' because it was still Gwen, who was constitutionally nurturing.
Once Gwen was done with the actual preparations, she raised her eyes to Arthur to signal that she would begin. He moved his left arm back to rest behind him in response, giving her access to the cut on his side.
As Gwen first stuck the needle through the sliced layer of skin, Arthur noticed Merlin's face as he hovered behind her. His upper lip was curled and his face a little pale.
"Merlin, just leave," Arthur sighed. "You make me nervous just looking at you."
"Uh…" Merlin started.
"Its fine, Merlin," Gwen said, sensing his hesitation. "I won't need you anymore; I have everything I require."
Merlin nodded. "I'll go check on Gaius," he said and left the room.
Arthur was glad for Merlin to be gone, now alone with just her and a little freer to admire her as she worked.
First Arthur chose to study Gwen's face, her eyes not entirely visible under her lashes from his high angle. She either had complete focus on her task or refused to look at him; Arthur guessed the latter, as he wondered if she felt his gaze on her.
Sensing her discomfort, he then watched her hands as she operated. They were graceful, he decided, but not overly delicate. Her hands had known work and were strong from it. Good hands for wielding a sword. He observed the way she turned her wrist with each stitch, both nimble and in control, imagining a sweeping sword in her palm instead.
But neither did Gwen seem to like having her work scrutinized, at least as far as she knew. So he tore his eyes from her working fingers to straighten his head and close his eyes.
This would do just as well, he concluded as the sensation of her hand was felt more clearly against his skin.
He focused on her left hand, which was resting on his side to hold the skin in place. Her hand moved with his ribcage as he took in each breath. Arthur wondered if the feel of his expanding chest made her more aware that she was touching him, unable to ignore that knowledge as each oscillation of his ribcage would remind her. He wanted her to be conscious that she was touching him; he even hoped that she secretly enjoyed touching him. Because the thrill of feeling her hand on him would be so much sweeter with the knowledge that she shared his thrill in touching him.
Arthur slowly exhaled, concentrating harder to mentally trace out from the heel of her palm to her each of her fingertips.
Gwen's hands were not the smooth ones of a lady. Arthur remembered Morgana once speaking of Gwen having the worn hands of a servant. But he strangely did not mind. Instead he wondered what those hands would feel like running over his chest, shoulders, and back.
He imagined them dragging slowly over him from his abdomen to his shoulders, gripping him firmly… her fingers soon curling in ecstasy, her nails digging into him, breaking his skin. But he didn't care about what marks she might leave, not now –
Somewhere in the distance he heard Gwen offer an apology, making him realize that he had inhaled a bit more sharply than normal and caused her to think she had stuck him.
"It's fine," he muttered.
The spell of his daydream now broken and afraid to try and return to it – at least while still in her presence – Arthur turned his attention back to her.
Gwen, who was perhaps a little anxious under his stare, finally spoke.
"Might I ask how your mail was pierced? Was it previously damaged, sire?"
He paused, a little surprised at her sudden willingness to converse with him (even if it was because she hypothesized polite conversation to be less awkward than silence).
"I wasn't wearing mail, Guinevere."
Gwen's eyes flickered up to him, her eyebrows hitched up in confusion.
"It was… an impromptu sparring. We were out hunting and finding ourselves bored with the lack of success."
"Well, without mail, I'd think that you and your knights should have been more careful with your blows."
Arthur chuckled, unable to hold back a boyish grin. "We may have brought a few wine skins with us. Not to mention that of Lavain's many skills, holding his drink well is not one of them."
Gwen's face grew stern. "It would be a shame if the prince survived his encounter with a great beast just to be killed in a drunken hunting accident not long after."
Arthur's lips twitched into a smile. "Is this your way of scolding me, Guinevere?"
"No," she answered quickly. "I didn't intend to reprimand you, sire. I have no right to do so… not that I would ever question you," she shook her head as if to mentally clear her thoughts. "I am merely voicing my concern for your health… as a citizen of Camelot."
Gwen's embarrassment only amused Arthur. "Yes, I remember the last time you voiced your concern for me," he teased, referring to the incident with the beast she had just mentioned. "As a citizen of Camelot, of course."
Arthur noticed how Gwen tilted her chin down a fraction more as if to focus better on her stitching; he knew it was purposely done to further obscure her eyes from him. But that didn't hide the redness in her cheeks.
After a pause, she said quietly, "I thought you didn't remember what I said."
"It's coming back to me," he replied, his voice low.
Gwen said nothing, still embarrassed at the idea that he would know what she said that night. After a minute, she chanced a look up – not at his face – but to the once-wounded shoulder.
Arthur followed her eyes to the scar. The rough outline of the creature's bite mark was still a faint pink, quite apparent to anyone who knew where to look.
The only faint memory he had of that time was of Gwen, which seemed more like a dream than real life. But he thought of that time often, desperate to remember any and all details that Gwen would rather he didn't know.
"I remember you holding my hand," he continued solemnly.
Gwen froze at his words. Her eyes hesitantly rose from his scar to his face, quickly gauging his expression, but then snapped back down to her stitching.
"And I should not have done that," she said stiffly.
Arthur sighed. "I think I like you best when you're doing what you shouldn't be," he replied, thinking of how she had stood up to him about having the women stay to fight in Ealdor and later scolded him for being ungrateful for their food. And of course, when she had offered him more comfort than would be acceptable while he had been wounded. "You can be so bold when you want to be, but you choose to hide it."
"As I should."
"If you were being rash, perhaps. But one thing I know, Guinevere, is that you are never rash. You have conviction… a conviction I have never known – not from any knight or noble or politician."
Gwen's cheeks were turning pink, but her expression stayed stern. "You exaggerate, sire."
"No, you are just too humble."
Gwen said nothing, only tying off his stitches and cutting the end with a small knife from her kit.
Arthur sighed, knowing now that Gwen was back to not speaking to him.
In her perfect silence, she then opened the jar of Gaius' cream and dipped the pads of two fingers into it. She carefully smeared it over his stitches, her touch gentle but thorough.
He merely bowed his head, thinking that this may the closest she would come to caressing him, at least for a long time considering her resistance to him.
Wasting no time, Gwen wiped her fingers into one of the cloths and gathered up her sewing kit. The one mistake in her exit strategy was that she walked around the side of the table which she would pass in front of him, not behind him.
Taking his chance, he caught her by the wrist, pulling her to stand just before him. He then stared at her, not realizing what his intentions had quite been.
"Thank you, Guinevere," he said sincerely. For he did not know what else to say.
He considered her hand, which he still had in his grasp. He vaguely thought of throwing it around his neck and kissing her, but that was out of the question. So he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it.
The moment was quick and unceremonious like was done with proper ladies. But he hoped it conveyed some amount of easy affection that he wished them to have.
Gwen's expression changed from discomfort to confused flattery, like she wore in the forest at Ealdor.
Arthur let go of her hand, allowing her to brisk out of the room.
Once she was gone, he was stricken with the thought that he might just have to thank Lavain.
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A/N: I realized belatedly that Gwen seemed to be stitching for an awful long time considering I said it was only two inches long (and the How To video said to use as few stitches as possible! Haha) But oh, well. *shrug* Whatever liberties I take, I do it for more Arwen time.
The second & third parts of this three-parter, will be up soon I hope. Planning on having it done before July 31.