Chapter 3 - Peace and Quiet
The forest was deserted. Arthur couldn't see even a bird in the branches. Everything was quiet, except for the breaking twigs that he managed to step onto. Merlin was in a deep sleep in his arms; no move and no rustle could disturb him.
He held his course toward Camelot, his mind blank. Every time he tried to recall the events of the past three days, the thoughts were immediately chased away, as if he was trying to catch a fish with his bare hands.
The natural sound of the woods served as a healing bandage on his mind, though he wasn't used to feeling that kind of emptiness and at first, he was angry that he couldn't set his thoughts straight. It was strange not to think about anything, to have that constant flow of ideas, assumptions, and images interrupted, and to allow his mind to be completely quiet, occupied by nothing but his basic instincts.
After some time of walking, Arthur knelt down on the path to relieve his legs and arms a bit, careful not to wake Merlin up. He stayed like that for a couple of minutes, his servant still in his lap, breathing deeply and looking around for signs that would help him to find a source of water. A few feet in front of him he saw little movements in a shrubbery with green more vivid than the rest of the forest. For a moment he thought he glimpsed a person between the branches, but once he focused on the place more thoroughly, he recognized it was just a trunk of a tree shaped similar to a human figure.
When he finally found the brook, he lay Merlin down onto a thick layer of leaves in the shadow of a birch. He washed his hands in the crystal clear water, soaked his head and neck and drank until he couldn't breathe. Then, he cleaned Merlin's hands also and tried to get some water in his mouth using a piece of his tunic, but the servant only coughed in his sleep, clearly disturbed by Arthur's actions.
He sat back, sighing. Their horses were gone, along with their supplies, food and blankets. They had at least three, maybe four days journey ahead, depending on Merlin's condition and his ability to walk. Not to mention bandits and mercenaries who usually occupied the bordering parts of the kingdom and who were now probably scouring the forest in search for whatever the retreating Saxon army left behind.
He looked at Merlin's motionless form. It was a miracle, and that was all that mattered. They were alive.
...
Merlin woke up at a low humming sound, like the last echo of a thunder or a howling wind of a winter storm. Except the sound was periodical, beating in his mind with precision like drums before an execution. Merlin wondered if it was his heart beating so fast, but something was telling him this subtle sound came from somewhere outside his body.
He turned his head and opened his eyes just slightly. Through the tears, he couldn't see more than Arthur's blurry face leaning over him. He felt dizzy, his stomach was turning around and every part of his body pulsed with dull pain. Something imprisoned him in the half-conscious state just before fainting, and he couldn't get over the edge no matter how much he wished. Maybe it was the indistinct feeling of urgency in the back of his head that kept him from losing consciousness again.
A wet cloth was put over his brow, awakening his senses a bit. He felt drops of water sliding down his throat from a cloth pressed to his lips. He tried to call Arthur's name, but all that left his mouth was a weak whimper.
"Shh, you've got a fever," a soothing voice reached through the buzzing in his ears. It sounded so calm and self-composed, that Merlin believed it was actually Gaius who was sitting next to him, cleaning his face and holding his shoulder in a reassuring grip. He wanted to ask where they were, but the only ability he seemed to possess was rolling his head from side to side. He groaned in anger. He was too tired and hurting to wake up properly, but not enough to fall unconscious. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he begged his body to have mercy and let him dream.
...
The second time he woke, he found himself lying next to a stream, the unmistakable sound of water filling his ears, melding with his heartbeat and the distant twittering of birds. His nose was filled with the scent of earth and his legs were warmed by the beams of sun that found their way through the crowns of the trees overhead.
Somebody knelt at Merlin's left side, adjusting his tunic. He slowly opened his eyes only to see Arthur studying him with concern.
"-lin?"
Merlin swallowed hard, confused. He had a bad taste in his mouth and for a second he couldn't figure out why his limbs were trembling so much. He didn't feel like himself at all. He reached a weak hand towards Arthur, holding his breath and half-expecting the image in front of him to disappear like a reflection on a surface.
"Merlin?" Arthur gave him a suspicious look, gently pulling the hand down to the ground again.
The warlock finally seemed to come to himself, looking at Arthur with half-closed eyes, frowning.
"Everything's green-" he whispered.
Arthur swallowed hard, staring at his servant in disbelief. "You're in the woods," he explained after a short silence, trying to cover the shocked expression that must have appeared on his face.
"Not that... green, everything...," his tongue was not obeying him and he twitched in desperation. If only he knew what he was trying to say. Talking felt at least as difficult as running in a dream.
"You've got a bit of temperature," Arthur said with authority, once again reminding Merlin of Gaius. He put a fresh cloth over Merlin's brow which seemed to calm him down a bit. He took a few steady breaths, feeling the skin on his stomach stretching with dried blood.
"My legs hurt," Merlin stated simply, lowering his right hand to the ground to figure out why his world was spinning. He felt vibrations under his fingers like they were coming from somewhere deep inside the ground with the never-ending sound of drums.
"I carried you." Arthur smiled, honestly surprised at how strong Merlin's voice suddenly sounded.
"I've been dreaming," the warlock explained slowly, "of walking." He reached towards his side with his left hand, pressing lightly on the wound, as if he wanted to check if it was still there. Despite the tremors of the earth, he felt calm and peaceful, like the silent woods around. The wound was numb, almost painless, but the pulsing inside proved that the healing wasn't finished yet.
Arthur soaked strips of his own tunic in the water of the brook and lifted Merlin's tunic, but the warlock stopped him before he could touch the neckerchief.
"It has to stay on the wound, until it heals," Merlin explained slowly, his voice echoing in his head as if he dreamed. His vision blurred for a moment.
Arthur wanted to ask what and why and how, but he sighed and sat down beside the warlock, relieved that Merlin was no longer in grave danger.
His eyes dropped on a scar on the other side of Merlin's stomach, if only for a short moment. It was clearly a recent injury, still red on the edges.
Merlin watched Arthur's eyes reflect his inner struggle, not knowing whether to confront him or whether to pretend that he didn't notice and let his friend rest.
But when Arthur returned the look, Merlin knew that it was already too late.
The warlock swallowed hard, the image of Finna and the arrow in his side as clear as yesterday. All the things that happened to Merlin suddenly gathered in front of his eyes. Only now did he finally have the chance to look back at the path of blood he'd left behind. All the things he'd hidden from Arthur's eyes, everything that he hadn't said to him, when Arthur had the right to know. Every lie he told, every life he took or allowed to be taken. Merlin's heart clenched with guilt and regret.
"I don't know where to start," he whispered with a shaky voice, avoiding Arthur's sight. He was so tired of everything. A lump formed in his throat and he had to blink a few times to get rid of the tears that threatened to fall. He wished Arthur would let him be, but at the same time, part of him believed that he deserved to be questioned. That it was his punishment.
Arthur shook his head a bit, covering Merlin's stomach with the shirt. He looked like he accepted that this was not the time to talk about Merlin's scar or about anything that kept growing between them for ten long years.
The king placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, looking into his watery eyes with such kindness and support as if he already knew and understood everything. It was a sight Merlin had never seen from Arthur before.
"I'm sorry..." Merlin whispered, not able to hold his tears back anymore.
"Don't-," Arthur squeezed his shoulder gently, "I'm not angry with you."
"You should be... I've done horrible things, I killed people," he swallowed as more tears rolled down his temples and slid further into his hair. "It's from an arrow," he said with his shaky breath, "Morgana would've killed me, but Finna gave her life so I could live. And I let her die."
Many times his mind returned to the moment in the tower when Finna offered herself to protect Merlin with her life. He'd been injured, but that didn't justify what he'd done. He should have stayed with her and fought.
Arthur gave Merlin's shoulder a gentle squeeze. He didn't want to bring Merlin into such a state and he was secretly angry with himself that he forced his already suffering friend to relive such memories.
He sat there for a moment until Merlin's sobs ceased and he fell asleep again.
...
Arthur managed to move a few miles further toward Camelot, trying to follow the brook to make sure they would have a source of water when Merlin woke up again. The warlock remained in a deep sleep, his chest rising with calm regular breaths. But he was still too pale and with the tunic stained with dried blood he looked worse that Arthur was willing to accept.
It was about midday when gray clouds rolled over the sky, soon followed by a thunder echoing from the distance. The air grew heavy as the first lightning flashed through the trees and even though Arthur increased his pace, he wasn't fast enough to reach the denser part of the forest. He and Merlin were soaked through when they finally found shelter under the crown of one of the oldest trees in the whole kingdom. Arthur put Merlin on the thick layer of pine needles and sat down, leaning his back on the trunk.
"We're gonna get struck," Merlin said lazily. The lightening was getting brighter with every second. Merlin could see it even through his tightly closed eyes and he couldn't help but flinch as an especially close peal of thunder tore the sky apart, sending shivers down his spine. Wind, cold and strong, chased the hair on his forehead.
"We're not gonna get struck," Arthur decided. He knew very well that it was risky to stay under tall trees during a storm, but without any village or cave nearby, they didn't have exactly a choice. He hoped the rain would stop before the drops found their way through the thick leaves, though.
Merlin smiled, the freshness of the wet wind tasted delicious on his tongue. He loved storms. It had something to do with the feeling of anger that Merlin never allowed himself to show. But when nature raged with thunder, something within him raged as well and for a short moment, that subdued part of his soul felt understood by something greater than himself. It was a peaceful and justified cry after everything that was missing and wrong in his life. Whatever it was.
"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked. He ignored all the questions that he would sooner or later ask and decided not to bother Merlin with before they returned to Camelot.
"Better," he said. "How's your back?"
Arthur opened his mouth, surprised with Merlin's thoughtfulness. "I'm starting to feel it," he said honestly and stretched his spine against the tree. "I may even need my muscles rubbed after we return."
Merlin groaned. "Not from me."
"No, that wouldn't be fair."
"Where's your armour anyway?" Merlin asked in shock, looking at Arthur's tunic, torn at the edges. There was still blood on it, despite the rain.
"At the Lake," Arthur said with confidence, as if it was a common place to leave his armour.
Merlin stared at Arthur and Arthur held his gaze, trying to fight back the mischievous smile that was shaking at the corners of his lips.
"You know, when I said I care about that armour, I really meant it," Merlin whispered mysteriously as if it was a secret no one could know about.
Arthur smiled. "I know you do. I'll send a patrol as soon as we get to Camelot and you will have your precious armour to polish for as long as you can."
"Good," Merlin said seriously. "I want to walk," he added after a while.
"You can't even sit up," Arthur stated and looked at Merlin, who was lying on his side, just the way Arthur left him.
"That's because I'm stiff from not moving," Merlin argued and attempted to get to his feet.
"Stop being stubborn," Arthur used his commanding tone this time, watching Merlin rolling to his back slowly, testing the strength of his muscles.
"Did you know it was contagious?" Merlin asked mockingly.
"You'll hurt yourself further and I will have to carry you anyway," Arthur warned. The sight of Merlin was almost funny, with his messy hair and tangled limbs that looked too long for his body. He turned around on the ground, but as soon as he managed to get on one of his knees, his left arm gave way and he landed hard on his hip.
"Merlin! You-" Arthur hissed angrily, swallowing the last word as he witnessed Merlin's clumsy efforts. He grabbed the warlock's shoulder and rolled him down on his back again, ignoring his struggle to do the opposite.
"-Idiot," Merlin finished the sentence with a painful grin, surprised that Arthur needed encouragement when it came to insulting him.
"Don't be. Don't be an idiot."
"Well, help me, then," Merlin retorted, as if everything was obviously Arthur's fault.
The king stared at him, but the servant already knew he had won, reaching his hands toward him.
"Why do I even try," Arthur sighed in resignation and helped his servant to sit. Merlin's face twitched with pain and he hissed, bringing his hands to his side.
"Thanks."
"I told you you'll hurt yourself," Arthur complained, giving Merlin a reproachful look, but the warlock only apologized with his smile, trying to breathe out the last waves of pain.
He decided to check himself over, just as he knew Gaius would do. When something as simple as sitting up made him feel like all his insides literally repositioned, he was quite curious what would happen if he tried to walk. He took time to examine the strange sensations in his chest. His stomach was definitely empty, clenched along with the muscles of his abdomen, but at the same time, he couldn't say that he was hungry. Sudden moves made him dizzy; his throat was dry and his lips were sore. His body felt painfully real and alive, as if deliberately forcing him to take notice of every fibre of his being. He fisted his hand; his muscles were weak and his pulse quicker than normal.
"You really believe it would work," Arthur pointed his eyes on the neckerchief.
"It already has," Merlin said. His eyes shifted between Arthur and the neckerchief, realizing Arthur was probably waiting for an explanation.
"I-" he started, wondering where to begin, but the king cut him off, already knowing what was on Merlin's mind.
"Not now," he said warmly. "Just... leave it."
It seemed to silence Merlin, if only for a while. Arthur watched with curiosity as Merlin struggled with his thoughts, taking a breath to say what was on his mind only to swallow the words a second later. He changed his mind a few times like that, and looked so confused and torn between following his own urge and obeying the king, that Arthur couldn't help but smile.
"But we have to talk-" Merlin said eventually, biting his lip as if he just spent precious words on something that didn't need to be voiced aloud.
"We will," Arthur reassured him, quite seriously. "Once you are well again and we're safely back to Camelot, I promise we will have a serious talk. There are other things to focus on now. Don't trouble yourself with it."
Merlin stared at him for a moment. There was so much he wished to say, but maybe it was for the best when Merlin himself had no idea where to start. How would he tell Arthur that Nimueh was right about his mother's death? Or that it was him who killed Agraveine? How was he supposed to confess that the love of his life had died by Arthur's hand?
"I was blind," Arthur suddenly interrupted his thoughts, looking deeply into Merlin's eyes. "And I don't mean to your magic, but to you. I was blind to you. I considered you to be my friend, counted on you, but never gave you the chance to see me the same way."
Merlin tried to say something, but the king wasn't finished.
"You deserved to know that I would never judge or hurt you for who you really are."
Merlin frowned, the words caught him by surprise. "You told me, more than once, that I'm your friend," he spoke warmly, smiling with his tired eyes.
"And I really meant it. The point is," Arthur cleared his throat and licked his lips nervously, "I enjoyed the comfort of having a friend, but I didn't allow you to have the same privilege."
Merlin swallowed a few times. He could hear that Arthur's words were planned and carefully weighed. But having Arthur apologize to him didn't feel right.
"I always trusted you, Arthur. Always," Merlin tried to reassure him, but then realised how unconvincing it sounded in light of recent events. "Before the battle," he leaned toward Arthur a bit, "when I came to your chamber, I was determined to tell you the truth. You had the right to know, that there was a sorcerer strong enough to defeat Morgana fighting at your side. And I was so sure that I would find it in me. But then..."
"I understand," Arthur said, his blue eyes staring pensively at the warlock.
But Merlin knew that understanding itself wouldn't make the pain go away.
The king closed his eyes briefly, recognizing the urgency in Merlin's look. Various emotions circulated through his veins, often volatile or contradictory. But out of all the confusion, hurt and betrayal, he mostly felt cheated and deceived. Not by Merlin, surprisingly, but by life itself. His past until now was just an illusion, a combination of undeniable facts and his own assumptions. He never looked behind the veil. He never thought he was supposed to look for or at least suspect, that there was somebody - anybody, silently paying a great deal for his life and safety.
Their eyes separated and they sat for a while, almost as if they were both alone, dwelling in their own thoughts. It was Merlin who broke the silence when the rain stopped, slowly trying to get his body to be able to rise. The last drops of rain were falling from the leaves and branches above them.
"All right, be careful," Arthur helped Merlin on his feet, almost automatically after their previous discussion. He hissed as a few cold drops of rain landed on the back of his neck, sending shivers all over his body.
"It always rains twice in the woods," Merlin noted, putting an arm around Arthur's shoulders.
"Doesn't matter. We're wet already."
Merlin frowned at Arthur's words. "Or not."
"Well, I can certainly get used to this," the king approved.
Their clothes were completely dry.
