Good Morrow dear readers.
If the rating or something is wrong -please tell me.
An idea which mutated into a story. (Don't own the characters- just borrowing)
An untold story.
Every scar has a story. Arthur knows this… Merlin knows it better.
Arthur is a prince- A king- A warrior... He had a few scars- when his sister had challenged him to cooking and he had burnt himself on the stove. Normal scars from being clumsy. When he was learning to wield a blade. When he was out defending his kingdom- from fighting his sister.
Merlin knows every story around every scar on the king. He would see the scars when he bathed him. Merlin would ask about the scars that didn't cover the blonds body but showed a interesting life. Merlin wouldn't roll up his sleeves. Arthur never saw his manservant without a shirt.
Arthur would pour his soul out with every story he told. In happiness and sorrow. Scars told many things. Arthur knew Merlin would have to have some scars- Everyone did. He never saw the scars so he never asked.
Merlin knew that every scar holds a history- a fable. He would look in the mirror when he washed and see each time he had risked his life on his skin. Each time he was too clumsy. Some made him smile. Most made him thank that he survived to serve another day. Each would make him wonder when he would get another to add to the ever growing collection.
The first time Arthur saw a worrying scar on his manservant had been after a feast. Merlin had looked tired and was washing him. He had rolled up in his sleeve with a mutter about running out of dry shirts. Arthur gaped when Merlin stretched over him for the soap and those pale wrists held marks. It looked like the scars from a common prisoner – someone often in shackles. Someone often trying to get out of them. Maniacal's that had been there so often that they had left groves- that had been opened and reopened and hadn't been able to heal.
"Merlin! What happened?" A not completely sober king had exclaimed. The manservant's hand suddenly was covered with thin cotton. "Nothing- Sire." Arthur was not convinced. "You have scaarsss." A small huff then. "We all have scars my king-." Just like that the conversation was over. Arthur had been distracted and drunk. When he confronted the raven the next day a simple phrase had the king doubting himself. 'You were drunk Arthur.' 'You imagined the severity of the marks.' 'It was just stubborn dirt from trying not to ring your stupid neck!'
Arthur started to pay more attention to when he saw more of Merlin- He didn't. He trained with his knights and at some point all took of their tops from the heat. They wore the scars like medals'. Merlin worked as hard if not harder but never did his shirt get removed or sleeves rolled up! It was damn frustrating.
The second time Arthur saw any of Merlin's scars was when the knights played a trick on him. They stole his neck scarf. It was a nasty gash on the back of the neck. It looked impossible. It looked like a precise cut. Arthur couldn't be 100% sure as he saw it only briefly. He also saw the tips of scars that disappeared down Merlin's shirt. Arthur was starting to detest shirts.
When Arthur went hunting with his knights and Merlin he saw the servants back. It wasn't intentional. Merlin had just gotten out the lake he had bathed in and was putting his shirt on. Arthur happened to be getting some water when the pale back caught his attention. Scars seem to make up the flesh. Puncture marks- slashes- to many for a simple manservant.
Later that same night his Knights and him were around the camp fire telling stories as was custom. "This scar is from a very voluptuous bar wench who wasn't pleased that I was in bed with her sister." Gwain laughed "Why did you sleep with the lady the week before?" Leon asked. "Nah, I had slept with her that morning." Gwain received a slap on the back and muttered reprimands. "So who can top that?" Gwain exclaimed a soft snort brought attention to the thin raven. "Sorry I don't think we would want your sloppy seconds." Gwain smirked: "Oh she was sloppy alright." A groan passed around the fire.
"So besides scars from rightfully angry thrusts what do you have? No bar scars either Gwain." Percival questioned. Gwain flushed as he muttered about how not all the woman were rightfully angry. "Um well I have one from Training with the princess here. Oh and from the army-that-refused-to-die." Arthur scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He remembered that- It had been a bad day and had grabbed the wrong sword. As Gwain regaled the crowd on the fight with an immortal being that had not died when run through the king looked at the knights. His eyes landed on the manservant. Relaxed, wearing a small smile. Not offering up any personal information.
"Merlin it's your turn, tell us a story -how you got a scar?" Merlin started as Elyan added him to the conversation. Questioning looks spread as Merlin flushed. "Um… Well ahhh-." "Surely you do have at least one scar!" Merlin coughed "I do have one were me and Will almost cut my foot off?" A splutter then 'How' "Well you see it was sunny and we were kids- We decided to juggle the axe to each other. Will threw to low and well it skimmed my ankle." Merlin rolled up his pants leg. There was a slice leading from his ankle. Arthur hardly saw it because of the scar that looked more recent leading around his ankle- Merlin noticed the kings stare and pulled up his sock.
The knights had more tact then to ask about the odd mark- "Merlin why does it look like you got strung up by your ankles?" All had more tact then Gwain.
"Nothing- no reason. Ah… Sir Leon the scar on your wrist is interesting- prey tell what happened." The knights were laughing after a short bit. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. Another question dodged.
"So Merlin who out of these brave fellows has the most scars?" Elyan asked. Including the silent manservant- again. Merlin scoffed : " Well I win hands down." The knights laughed. Gwain stood and ripped off his shirt showing pale scars every now and then . "I have more scars then the lot of you!" There was quite a few. Shoulder blade, hip, abdomen, right arm and lower chest. Merlin stood and exclaimed with great enthusiasm. "There is no contest." The knight continued laughing. Arthur remembered the marks on the ravens back. 'No contest.' Merlin rubbed his wrists with a depressing, small smile.
Years later Arthur mustered the courage to confront his manservant- Trusted adviser. Arthur is king of Camelot, husband to the lovely Guinevere and tired of waiting for Merlin to show him the scars that no-one knew the idiot carried. Admittedly they were drunk and 'writing' a speech on *shudders* grain. A drunk mans words are a sober mans thoughts and Arthur had been thinking a lot lately!
"Merlin." The manservant peered at the blond over ink stained hands. "Yes sire?" Arthur scoffed at the sarcastic remark. "You know every story about every scar I have." "I am your trusted Adviser." If at a later date someone said that the king of Camelot had been whining they would be condemned to the stocks! Kings don't wine. "Merliiin. Why don't I know about your scars?" Merlin sat still , looking up uneasily. "I don't know what you are talking about sire." That wasn't sarcasm. Merlin downed what was left of his drink.
Arthur reached across the table and snatched a thin wrist. Pulling up the sleeve had both parties gasping. The king didn't know it was that bad. Merlin hadn't expected that. Arthur rushed sloppily around the table. He had gotten worried- drunken wrestling insured. Arthur ended up ripping Merlins shirt. He wanted to know what had been hidden so fearsly.
Keeping track of his servant's injuries in the last couple years had been impossible. He didn't know Merlin could hide that much pain. "God , what happened?" muttered Arthur. Merlin had turned to not face the king, showing said king his back. The back had more scar tissue then skin. Many more scars then when Arthur had last laid his eyes upon it all those years ago in the woods.
The duo sat at the table , Merlin with a ripped shirt and a empty cup soon filled by the king. Merlin looked at his wrists. "You know I have been held captive Arthur, you yourself have freed me from shackles many a time." Arthur stopped him "No small amount of times, yes, but you have more scars than any amount of shackles could cause. I was in shackles with you and yet my wrists are clear." Merlin downed the drink again. He needed the courage the liquid would give him. "Only a small fraction of times I have been in shackles have you been the one to release me. Only Half those times did my captors restrain themselves from trying for information." Merlin remembered when a particularly nasty bandit had stuck a knife in him and twisted with every unanswered question. Arthur knocked back his own ale.
Arthur looked at his clear wrist's and his manservant that was held together by scar tissue, still smiling and filling their cups. "Tell me a story Merlin." "A story my King? Of what?" "Of you." Arthur gestured at the raven who started. "Me?" A sigh "Yes you idiot. Of a scar, of a manservant stitched together more times than a seasoned knight." Merlin sat without grace. Tired as well as stretched beyond his years. "I have no such story." Arthur couldn't believe that his trusted adviser-friend- would lie to his face. "Don't lie to me Merlin! Every scar tells a story." Blue eyes glinted in the candle light. "No all stories are meant to be told." The subject was dropped neither able to muster their courage anymore.
When light hit the face of the King a shout of 'Merlin' echoed around the castle. The speech lay forgotten on the floor as a blond realized that he still knew nothing about his manservant but that he had been kept captive and tortured much more than anyone had the right to live through. And he still had no breakfast.
This is a One-Shot for now, Unless I get asked to try my hand at more chapters.
Please R&R. Much appreciated.