He looked at himself for the hundredth time in the mirror since he woke up, but the reflection never changed. The large cut running diagonally down his face and through his eye

always remained, stubborn as ever, the smaller one too; cutting through his lower lip and chin, hot red and burning. It was agony to the touch and his head was pounding from the

pain. He wanted to sleep again, to forget it all, to be lost in black unconsciousness, but he couldn't. Last time he fell asleep, he woke up with his face sliced in two and only one

working eye. Suddenly he heard noises down stairs, a scuffle then soothing words and as he turned to them, he knocked the mirror off its nail and it fell to the floor with a crash.

'Merlin!' Hearing his name, he dove back into bed, cradling his broken face and shielding it with his blankets. With a loud bang, his door swung open and hit the wall behind it, causing

the bed to rattle slightly. Arthur knew.

He stood in the doorway for almost a minute before the others caught up with him, but before they could say anything, he held them back slightly with his arm. Merlin was curled up

tightly in a ball under his blankets, with a small pool of blood on the pillow behind him and his heavy breathing echoing throughout the room. With a hesitant 'Merlin?' Arthur moved

towards the bed, reaching out a hand to his friend when suddenly a strained voice cut through the room. 'I apologise for this inconvenience, you're Highness, but I'm afraid I shall be

unable to work for several weeks.' The sentence was spoken with cold and purposeful tone, catching in the Kings throat before he could speak again. Even speaking must have been

painful for him. When no one else moved or spoke, he said 'Sire, if you wouldn't mind, I am in no fit state to entertain today but thank you for stopping by. I shall give you full notice

when I plan to return to work, but now I would like some rest'. Gwen grasped her husband's arm again to pull him out of the room and reluctantly he followed. Leaning back against

Merlin's closed door, he let out a long breath and said quietly 'He didn't use my name'. A tiny tear pricked at his eye and he quickly stood up again, and made to leave but his friend's

voice from inside the room stopped him.

'Get rid of it' Gaius looked sadly at the boy and tried 'Merlin, I…' 'Please Gaius! You can use a potion or powder, I'll take anything you give me, just get rid of it!' 'I can't! It's too raw at

the moment for any treatment but I promise you when it's healed fully, I'll take another look. Right now, all I give you is something for the pain, and prescribe rest. You need your

sleep.' Merlin looked up dolefully with his one good eye and whispered 'please…' after laying a sympathetic hand on the boys shoulder; Gaius turned away from Merlin and headed to

the door but stopped with his hand on the door knob. 'Oh, and stop sulking about Arthur. He was only doing his job'. Merlin gave a frustrated cry and threw himself under the

blankets again. He knew he was being childish but in his eyes or eye in this case, he was only doing as previously instructed and if Arthur didn't like it, he shouldn't ask for it! The door

opened again, so he called 'Gaius, please leave me alone! I know you want to help but until you can find something to sew my face back together, I really don't care!' But the answer

he received was not the one he'd expected.

'Oh stop whining you big baby. It's me, Arthur, so you can drop the wounded cub act, it's only a scratch, I'm sure you've faced worse…' he sentence hung in the air for a second as he

took in the sight before him. At the word 'scratch' Merlin had spun round to face him, like an angry cat, and in doing so, revealed the wound across his pale face. It was…horrific, for

lack of a better word. The cut was deep and bloody, impossible to bandage without leaving him blind and impossible to ignore without risking infection. He didn't look like Merlin

anymore. He looked angry and sharp, like a demon fresh from battle, and would've been frightening aside from the tear rolling down his left cheek and splashing into his lap. He

wrapped his arms around his knees and curled up on the bed, still facing Arthur in defiance. Arthur remembered telling him once about his first battle wound, and how proud he was

to receive it, but this wasn't fair. This wasn't just or something to be celebrated. He wasn't even there to protect him. Battles are only battles when Merlin is still fighting. When he

falls, the war falls and Arthur is lost. Softly he muttered 'Oh Merlin, you stupid idiot' Sitting down on the bed, he tried to look him in the eye, but it felt so patronising and crippling, he

just continued to talk. 'What made you want to go hunting with those prats anyway? You don't even like going with me! What happened out there?'