A/N: Greetings! Took a bit longer to update this time, though not too long. I was going to do it yesterday, but after being away from home for two days, not getting enough sleep, and then driving for 3 hours straight, I was just too tired to finish editing. It also seems like every time I tried to read through this chapter again, someone would need me to do something. Sigh... Anyway, this chaper is a bit longer than the others, though it's not super long. Lots of stuff happens. It was great fun :)

And thank you to everyone who's been reading. I'm glad you like my story :) And if you feel so inclined, please drop a review. I'd love to know what you all think.

Title: Healing Spells
Author: BeyondTheStorm
Rating: T for some violence and bloodshed
Characters/pairings: Only friendship here :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur, and quite a bit of Gwen too, with some Morgana and a little bit of Gaius.
Spoilers: Um...lets just say everything up through 2x07. This chapter does include just brief mentions of events from season 1 and 2x01.
Warnings: Eventually some non-suicidal self-harm, but only in one or two chapters. Other than that, there's just blood.

I hope everyone remained in character with this chapter. I find that Arthur is a bit difficult to write, especially when it comes to more emotional things, like worrying. I have also always sort of felt that if he were to find out about Merlin and be okay with the magic that the two of them would be even better friends, simply because there wouldn't be secrets or hiding, and the two of them would be able to work together more. I've just always thought that they'd become a bit closer after the magic reveal and acceptance. That's my opinion anyway, and so that's sort of how I approached his character (you'll understand what I'm getting at when you read it). Arthur's a lot of fun to write, so I hope I do his sections justice.

So...question. Is there anyway to get an ! and a ? to appear next to each other, like when someone is screaming a question? Because it keeps deleting the second one I type...and if not, then I'll just deal with it and find other ways to make a question obviously being yelled.

Disclaimer: Property of the BBC. Not mine. I own nothing but the plot behind this fic, and in all honesty, I'm pretty sure it owns me, not the other way around.

CHAPTER 4

Merlin glared at the empty cupboard in front of him as well as the two empty pots sitting on the counter. He was certain that Gaius must have done this on purpose, just to spite him or something like that. He had to have known that he was running out of some of his more common ingredients, like willow bark and mint. Upon further inspection, he was also out of thyme and feverfew. He had likely used them all up while making all those extra potions for his patients so that Merlin wouldn't have to.

Unfortunately, Gaius was out of headache remedies, seeing as how Merlin had used the last one that morning upon once again waking with a headache (although it certainly hadn't been as bad as the previous day and thankfully hadn't resulted in collapsing). Due to the commonness of headaches and such, his mentor had actually taught him how to make the remedy, but he was apparently missing some rather key ingredients.

Normally he would just ignore this until Gaius told him to go out and fetch the ingredients. However, there was no Gaius to give him orders, and it wasn't really something he could just ignore seeing as how he would likely need another remedy eventually if he were to keep practicing healing magic. Also, it was one of the more commonly requested potions, along with ones to reduce fevers, ease nausea, and induce a deep sleep. Gaius' stores were conveniently missing a lot of ingredients for those sorts of remedies.

He was kind of wondering if Gaius had done this just so that he wouldn't have to fetch the plants himself (and he did, often enough, because sometimes Arthur was relentless with his demands and Merlin just didn't have the time to go out and search for plants). In the end though, the reasons didn't really matter, because it didn't change the fact that the plants Merlin needed were missing, and no one was going to be getting them for him, so he'd simply have to do it himself.

Thankfully he had some time so he could head out into the woods and pick what he would need. Arthur was out on the training field and had left Merlin with just a few chores, like cleaning his room and doing the laundry. Both were done, and so he probably had enough time before Arthur would need him again. He knew exactly where to find everything, thankfully, seeing as how he had been sent out to find all four plants more than once. It wouldn't be too hard.

He walked over and picked up a basket before heading out the door, down the stairs, and out into the courtyard. It was there that he ran into Gwen, carrying a similar basket and heading in the same direction he was.

"Gwen!" he called, running to catch up with her. She turned her head and offered him a smile as he came up beside her, matching her pace.

"Merlin," she greeted. She looked him over once, her smile brightening. "You're looking better."

"Thanks. I feel better."

"I'm glad."

"Where are you off to?"

"I thought I'd pick some flowers for Morgana and perhaps some for myself. They've all withered. I thought I might get some lavender as well. It smells lovely, very soothing. What about you?" She motioned to his basket.

"Gaius ran out of a few things, so I thought I'd replace them for him."

"Like what?"

"Willow bark, mint, thyme, and feverfew. They're mostly for reducing pain, nausea, fevers, and things like that. Gaius taught me how to make headache remedies and a few other common potions, so I was thinking I'd make up a few more, just in case anyone needs them." Best not to tell her that he was partially doing this because he needed the headache remedies himself. There was no reason to worry her after what happened yesterday.

"I'll come with you," she told him. "Keep you company." She didn't say it, but he could almost hear the unspoken "I'm still worried about you" and "I want to make sure you're alright." He still wasn't entirely used to the whole open concern thing from people other than Gaius and his mother, but he was starting to expect it from Gwen now as well. Even though she hadn't said as much, most likely so that he wouldn't feel as if she were patronizing him, her expression was easy enough to read. The concern really was very touching, and he couldn't help but smile in response.

"Thanks, Gwen."

The two of them walked past the gates and out into the forest. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in sight. Even the temperature was just right, and the breeze was soft and calming. It was the perfect day for gathering plants, and while they walked down the familiar woodland trails, they chatted about whatever came to mind, though mostly about their respective nobles. Gwen was rather used to Merlin complaining about Arthur, and Merlin was used to Gwen complimenting Morgana. It was familiar territory and something both were completely comfortable talking about. It also made for interesting stories and gossip.

Once they were a bit deeper in the woods, they came upon the clearing that had most of what Merlin was looking for, including a patch of lavender. The two of them got to work on picking what they needed. Merlin rather liked this clearing, as it conveniently contained a lot of the herbs that Gaius was so fond of. It also had a rather large white willow so that he could get his willow bark. He'd make sure to get a lot of it. It was one thing that Gaius always seemed to be running out of.

Soon enough he had a basket full of willow bark, mint, and feverfew. It was just the thyme that was left, which was in another clearing not too far away. He turned to Gwen and was about to see if she was ready to move on when the sound of rustling caught his attention. Both of them straightened up and looked around, unsure which direction it had come from. Nothing followed for a brief moment, and they hoped it had only been the sounds of an animal rushing past. Still, they both remained tense and alert, waiting to see if anything would come next.

"Well, well," came a rough voice, likely accompanied by a smug sneer, "what do we have here?"

Merlin quickly backed away from the direction of the voice, moving so that he was positioned in front of Gwen, keeping her behind him. It wasn't long before three men emerged from the surrounding forestry. They were all rather large, and each one was armed with a blade.

"Bit dangerous to be wandering around unarmed, don't you think?" said the same man as before. He was positioned in front of the others, moving slowly closer. It was probably safe to assume that he was their leader. "How about you hand over whatever you got, and maybe we'll let you leave alive."

"We don't have anything," said Merlin, slowly backing up towards the edge of the clearing, making sure that Gwen was doing the same. If it came down to it, he could defend himself. Gwen was decent with handling a weapon, but she currently didn't have one, nor was she good enough to handle three fully armed bandits.

"We'll be the judges of that, boy," sneered the leader as he began approaching again.

Merlin had to think of something quickly. These men would be easy to handle if he could use his magic, but he couldn't do anything with Gwen standing right there. He also needed to make sure that she would be out of harm's way. She needed to run, but they likely wouldn't let her get away that easily. She would need a distraction.

He knew what had to be done, even though it was foolish and could very well get him killed.

As soon as the leader was close enough, Merlin swung his basket with everything he had and smacked it into the bandit's face. The man went down fast, groaning and holding his nose, which had likely been broken. The warlock then tackled the next closest man and managed to get a hold of his blade, using only a bit of magic to help him. He stood up quickly, facing the three men, two of which were now struggling to their feet.

"Run, Gwen!" he shouted, glancing back. Her wide, terrified eyes shot up to meet his, but she didn't move. She really needed to move. "Run!"

Gwen snapped out of whatever trance she was in and turned around, running off into the forest, her basket discarded in her haste. Merlin allowed himself a small smile. At least she'd make it out of this unscathed. She would surely get back to Camelot. That's what really mattered.

Now he just had to deal with the bandits, and theoretically, that wouldn't be too difficult. There was no one here to report him to the king for using magic, no one he needed to hide from.

He turned back to the three men that were approaching him slowly, who no longer seemed amused and probably weren't going to let him leave alive even if he gave them everything he owned. That was fine, because he wasn't going to let them get away either. There was nothing to hold him back now. He already had the incantation ready, the words forming on the tip of his tongue…

It was all wiped cleanly away in an instant as a searing pain shot through his left arm, from his shoulder to his elbow. He couldn't hold back the scream that followed.

There had been a fourth man.

The blade he had stolen fell to the ground as he reached up to cover the wound, and his hand was instantly slicked with blood.

There was so much blood.

The pain quickly became unbearable, blocking out everything except an intense desperation. Out of pure instinct, the magic within him was pushed outward, sending all four men flying backwards. There was the distinct sound of bone's snapping, but he didn't have time to think about it or to do much of anything else.

He had to get away—away from the pain and away from the bandits.

So he ran.

Gwen made her way through the forest as quickly as she could. She needed to get back to Camelot, to find someone who could help. She had to find someone who could save Merlin, because the boy wasn't capable enough with a sword to handle that many men on his own. All three bandits had seemed comfortable holding a weapon whereas Merlin never did. A sword just didn't look quite right in his hands. He wouldn't last long against them.

What if he was already…?

Gwen shook her head, banishing all thoughts of what Merlin's fate would be. She just needed to get out of the forest and into the city. She needed to find help.

After what felt like forever, she found herself no longer surrounded by trees, but she didn't slow down and just kept running, and before she knew it, her feet had taken her to the training field. Perhaps it was instinct that led her there, or maybe she had known what had to be done all along. There was only one person who would be willing to help Merlin this instant, without preparation or anything. Only one person would be willing to run off into the forest to save him, regardless of the risks involved.

Arthur.

She had to find Arthur.

She pushed herself as fast as she could, breathing hard as she ran towards the practice dummies, and sure enough, Camelot's prince was swinging his blade around, dressed in his chainmail.

"Arthur!" she called, all thoughts of propriety pushed aside. There just wasn't time to bother with proper etiquette, not when a friend's life was on the line, not when Merlin could be…

Arthur stopped what he was doing and turned to her, a question in his eyes.

"Guinevere?" he asked.

When she finally reached him, she stopped running and tried to catch her breath. She hadn't even bothered stopping on the way, not once, because there was too much riding on this, and her panic had been enough to push her beyond any physical limits. She looked up at her prince with large, terrified eyes, and she saw his expression morph from puzzled curiosity to concern.

"Gwen, what is it? What happened?"

She took a few more deep breaths, trying to gather her thoughts enough to explain properly.

"Merlin…" she began, and with just his servant's name spoken in such a way, his eyes widened with blatant worry. It was rare to see his emotions so unguarded. She wasn't sure what sort of conclusions he was jumping to, but she didn't have time to worry about it. "We were out in the forest, and these men showed up, three of them. They were bandits, and Merlin…he knocked two of them over and told me to run. He stayed behind so I could escape, and…please, Arthur! Please, you have to help him!"

"Where in the forest?" he asked, not wasting any time.

"A clearing, not too far in. We followed the path…" She sucked in a deep breath, her eyes watering. Now that she was no longer running for her life and Merlin's, everything was catching up with her. "What if…what if he…?"

"Don't," said Arthur sharply, but his voice softened as he continued. "Don't assume the worst. He'll be fine, Gwen. I'll make sure of it."

The prince didn't even wait for a response before bolting, heading towards the forest.

Pain.

There was so much pain.

Unable to run any longer, Merlin threw himself behind a tall tree, praying he had put enough distance between himself and the bandits, completely unconcerned about where he had ended up. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting away. That had been the only coherent thought through the searing pain that was originating from his arm.

Gods, his arm…

He could feel the gash, feel the blood pouring out through the wound. He was dizzy with the loss of it, instinct taking over completely in order to dictate his actions. He needed to do something, or he was going to eventually bleed out. There was no one to clean it for him, to stitch and patch him up. Gaius wasn't in Camelot, and so he was the only one who could do something.

He had to do something. The panic and desperation fed into his magic, which was pulsing through and around him. He closed his eyes tightly, barely even aware of the words leaving his mouth: the incantation for stopping the bleeding. He just wanted it all to end, wanted that dizzy feeling to go away.

He didn't even stop to see if it had worked before desperately repeating the incantation for healing open wounds. He could feel his magic, feel it working, honing in on his emotions and intent more so than the words being said. He wanted the wound to stop bleeding, to close up, to stop hurting. He couldn't think like this, couldn't focus, but his magic responded anyway and coiled around his arm, pooling in the gash that was so deep that the sword had grated against the bone.

Logically, it shouldn't have worked at all. Nothing should have happened. He had barely been able to close a wound four inches long, and it had taken over two days and multiple repetitions to finally reduce it to just a scratch. This one was a hundred times more serious, one that if left alone for too long would result in death. Yet his magic reacted to his overwhelming panic and desire to heal his arm.

Before he knew what was going on, he found that the pain was receding and that he could no longer feel the blood flowing so freely. Dizzy and confused, he moved his right hand away just enough to inspect the injury. The bleeding had slowed down to a trickle. The wound was nothing more than a cut, still a bit bloody but starting to scab over. It ran the length of his upper arm, from shoulder to elbow, but it was considerably shallower than before, and the unbearable pain from earlier was now a simple throbbing. The only proof of how grave it had been was the blood staining the sleeve of his tunic and jacket. The material was saturated with it.

He leaned back against the tree, sighing in relief as his magic stopped flowing out so frantically. Later, he would think about this and make a note of it. He would deal with everything later, when his head was clearer and his arm was taken care of properly, with pain relievers and bandages. For now the important thing was to get back to Camelot.

The sound of a twig snapping from nearby made his heart stop and his breath catch. No…they couldn't have found him. They wouldn't have kept searching, not after all that. He didn't even have anything to hand over. What was the point?

"I know you're here, boy!" shouted the leader, and he sounded livid. "You'll pay for what you did!"

So this was about revenge then. They were still hunting him because he had broken the bandit leader's nose and knocked another to the ground. Bandits often didn't attack people unless they had something worth stealing, and sometimes they would let their victims go and move on. Other times they simply took what they wanted and then killed the victims so there would be no witnesses. And sometimes, apparently, they would just hound a peasant who had nothing of real value simply because he pissed them off.

How had they even found him? He had been running blindly through the woods, not even bothering to stay on any sort of path. What had given his position away?

He tried to glance around the trunk of the tree without being seen, wanting to know just where the men were. When his eyes landed on the forest floor, his face paled. There were splotches of red on the dirt and leaf-covered ground, and he would have to be completely addled not to know where they had come from.

He had left a trail for them to follow, one that would lead straight to him. He needed to run. He threw himself away from the tree and ran behind another that was a little further off, still exhausted and desperate. He needed to get out of the forest and back to Camelot, where he'd be safe and where they would never follow…

Another twig snapped, this time from right behind him. He snapped his head back around, facing the three men who had managed to sneak up on him.

"Hello, boy."

He swallowed rather hard, pressing back against the tree.

"You won't be getting away this time. I'll make sure you suffer for what you did to me."

They had him completely surrounded, each one armed with a blade. However, despite their obvious advantage and the very blatant threats, they were keeping their distance and watching him carefully. It almost seemed as if they were waiting for something to happen, sizing him up…

Oh, that's right. He had used magic against them earlier. He could recall the sound of bones snapping, which was probably why there were only three of them and not four. They were all standing there, waiting to see what else he would do, if he would send them all flying again. Well, he had no reason to disappoint them.

Merlin raised his uninjured arm, palm facing the three men. They all flinched, backing away, but even after speaking the words, nothing happened. He had been trying to force them to drop their weapons by using fire, like he had done so many times to so many others, and yet it hadn't worked. He quickly tried again, this time trying to push them all backwards, send them flying like he had earlier when he was blinded by panic and pain.

Nothing.

He couldn't even feel the pull of his magic. He could still feel it flowing through him like it always did—it was a part of him, after all—but it wasn't answering. It wouldn't rise up and do what he wanted, as if there just wasn't enough left or he was just too tired for it to be used.

Reality slammed into him, and he leant back against the tree, terrified. He had no way to defend himself and nowhere to run, and by the looks on their faces, the bandits were well aware of it. They began advancing again, and there was nothing he could do.

He couldn't use his magic.

Arthur made his way through the forest, heading for the clearing that Gwen had mentioned. His tracking skills were exceptional, and so it wasn't hard to trace the steps of the two servants. However, he was no longer sprinting through the greenery and was instead just walking briskly towards his destination. After the panic had worn off a bit, he had thought about the situation and calmed down considerably. Gwen had left Merlin on his own against three bandits, and he had been fine when she left him.

A month ago, he would have still been sprinting through the forest to reach Merlin before the boy could get himself killed, but now he knew better. Merlin wasn't defenseless, far from it.

He was a warlock and a powerful one at that.

Out in the woods, away from the watchful eyes of Camelot, Merlin was perfectly capable of protecting himself. He didn't need a weapon or armor or anything. He could create a shield with his magic, throw people across clearings with just a thought, and take on other users of magic with an ease and grace that shocked the prince. Merlin—clumsy, careless, idiotic Merlin—was actually able to take care of himself. He had likely sent Gwen away not only to keep her safe but so he could use his magic without worrying about her seeing him. He had probably disposed of the bandits as soon as she was far enough away.

He was almost certain that his servant was fine and was probably finishing up whatever errand he had been running at the time. However, he still needed to find him, if only to appease Gwen.

And perhaps, despite all he knew about Merlin and his magic, he was still just a bit concerned and needed to make absolutely sure that the warlock was alright.

It wasn't long before he came upon the clearing, and it was definitely the right one due to the two discarded baskets and the rather dead looking bandit slumped at the foot of a tree. Arthur ran to the man first to determine whether he was really dead or just unconscious. Upon further inspection, he could see that the man's neck had been snapped, most likely due to slamming into the tree. No doubt that was Merlin's doing. However, Gwen had said there were three men, but he could only see one. There was also no sign of Merlin.

Arthur moved away from the bandit and took a good long survey of the clearing. There were plants scattered everywhere, probably from when the baskets had been dropped. There was also a sword lying on the ground not too far from the baskets. He moved closer and then stopped dead in his tracks.

The ground was spattered with blood.

He tried not to jump to conclusions, tried to force the lump in his throat back down, but a part of him couldn't help but entertain the worst possible scenarios. He couldn't help but fear that the blood belonged to Merlin, and that was a lot of blood. There was even a trail of it, leading further into the forest. This time he didn't hesitate and took off after it, running through the woods yet again.

Merlin's a warlock. He kept repeating it, over and over in his mind, trying to calm down. He has taken on sorcerers and witches and all manner of magical beasts. He slew the questing beast, struck down Nimueh, defeated Sigan. In Ealdor, he forced Kanen's men back. He could have probably stopped them on his own. Surely he can handle a few bandits.

The panic lessened and he was able to clear his head, slowing his sprint down to a jog. He didn't want to lose the trail or draw attention to himself. He just needed to keep going, and hopefully he'd find Merlin. The boy would be fine. His servant would be alright and would call him out on being worried, and Arthur would deny it. They would insult each other and argue, and Merlin would be flashing that huge, insolent smile of his that always made Arthur either want to smile back or wipe that grin right off Merlin's face.

Merlin is a warlock. Merlin is magic. He'll be fine.

The trail ended, and just a few paces ahead was another clearing.

Merlin has magic. He's fine, he's…

There was Merlin, surrounded by three men with his back against a tree, about to be run-through.

Arthur reacted instantly. It was impossible to cover the distance in time to save Merlin, and he didn't have a crossbow. All he had was his sword, and so he threw it with everything he had at the bandit that had his blade pointed at Merlin. It was a risky move and could easily get Merlin killed if the bandit fell the wrong way or lurched forwards just a little too far, but there was nothing else he could do.

His aim was true and his sword sunk into the man's back. The bandit arched, released his sword, and fell to the ground, leaving Merlin unscathed. His servant just watched with wide eyes, as if he couldn't quite figure out what had happened. At the same time, the other two bandits turned to Arthur, both shocked and angry. The prince wasted no time rushing forward. He threw himself at the nearest bandit and managed to get his sword away from him before running the man through with it. He spun around just in time to block a strike from the last remaining bandit.

Unlike the other two, the third one wasn't going down without a fight. These men obviously hadn't been amateurs. Arthur was lucky to have taken them by surprise. A quick, well-aimed blow was the surest way to kill a man, and adding the element of surprise just made it that much easier.

Their blades clashed over and over, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent clearing. His opponent was good, but he was better, and it seemed that the bandit knew it. The man leapt back after blocking a blow and turned towards Merlin, who was still leaning against the tree, staring at the ground. He almost looked to be in shock.

Before the man even raised his arm, Arthur knew what he was going to do, and so he once again threw his sword, sending it flying before the bandit could throw his own. It sunk into his side, and the man fell just before his blade could leave his hand. All three men were down on the ground, unmoving. Arthur made absolutely certain that they were all dead before approaching Merlin, a mixture of both worry and anger building up in him.

If he had been even a second later…

Merlin had magic. He was supposed to be able to fight back, to protect himself. Those men were nothing compared to everything else, and yet he had simply stood there like some terrified animal in the face of a hunter. He hadn't done anything to try and save himself.

In the end, the anger won out.

"You idiot!" he shouted, earning Merlin's full attention. "Why didn't you fight back? You could have taken them apart easily! They were nothing! What were you thinking?"

Merlin didn't say anything. He just stood there, staring at Arthur and gripping his left arm tightly. He was trembling slightly, but for what reason the prince didn't know.

"Why didn't you use your magic?" he yelled, frustrated and angry and scared, because Merlin was supposed to be powerful. He was supposed to be able to look after himself in this regard. Fighting was supposed to be easier now that Arthur knew, because he would no longer have to worry so much or question Merlin's insane luck when it came to coming out of battles unscathed. He'd know what happened and be able to make up excuses if need be, because he was a much better liar than his servant.

He had assumed that Merlin would be alright with just his magic for protection, that he could handle something like this, and so he hadn't rushed in his search. He had been lax in regards to saving him, and it had nearly cost Merlin his life. He had almost lost his closest friend, all because he knew he was a warlock. Knowing was supposed to make things easier, and yet it was because he had known about Merlin's magic that he had almost been too late to save him.

Why hadn't Merlin used his magic?

"I…" began Merlin, still looking like the world was coming down around him, "I don't know. My magic…I couldn't…" He nearly choked on the words as he took a few steps away from the tree on shaky legs, moving towards Arthur. Upon seeing his servant closer up, most of Arthur's anger was washed away and replaced with concern. Merlin was pale…really pale. His skin was almost white, and he was still shaking uncontrollably. He looked exhausted, and his right hand was gripping his left arm near the shoulder.

His hand was covered in blood. The sleeve of his jacket and tunic were soaked with it. It had been Merlin's trail of blood he had followed after all.

"Merlin, your arm," he said as he moved towards the warlock, wanting to see the injury, to make sure that Merlin wasn't bleeding out.

"It's fine," he insisted, gripping it tighter.

"Let me see."

"It's fine. I'm fine, Arthur."

He moved away and turned his back to the prince.

"Where are you going?" Arthur demanded, keeping close, his eyes fixed on his servant's back, and there was blood from his injury there too, streaked down from his shoulder.

"I'm going back. I still have to…finish…"

His words faded as the trembling stopped, and Arthur rushed forward as Merlin fell backwards. He managed to catch him, wrapping his arms around the boy's shoulders and slowly lowering him to the ground. Arthur kept him propped against his body as he tried to get a better look at the damage that was done.

"Merlin?" he called, but the warlock didn't respond at all. He was completely still and silent, two things that Merlin was never supposed to be, and his skin had lost all color. The sight of him struck something deep and uncomfortably familiar in Arthur, something that made his blood run cold. All that pale flesh…

Pale and unmoving, just like before, when Merlin had…

Arthur abandoned all princely composure and panicked. He shifted Merlin so he could support him with only one arm and then quickly placed his free hand right over the warlock's heart. Merlin was too pale, too still, and it was all so familiar and terrifying, because this is exactly how he had looked before, after Arthur found out what he was. This was exactly how he had looked after using a spell so strong that it nearly killed him, and he hadn't been…gods, he hadn't been…

Beneath his hand, Arthur felt the steady beat of Merlin's heart, and the boy's chest was rising and falling with each breath. They were shallow, but he was breathing, and Arthur heaved a sigh of relief and thanked whoever was listening for small miracles.

There was still so much blood though, and the wound was still bleeding, if only slightly. He couldn't tell how bad it was, what with the bloody, tattered sleeves and the blood itself obscuring the wound. It would need to be cleaned and bandaged, and it would have to be done soon, before infection could set in. If all that blood really did belong to Merlin, then the warlock's life was still in danger. For someone as thin as Merlin, losing that much blood could prove fatal.

Wasting no time, Arthur removed Merlin's red scarf and quickly tied it tightly around the wound. It was all he could do at the moment. His servant didn't need to lose anymore blood.

With that taken care of, it was time to head back to Camelot. Merlin needed medical attention. Gaius wasn't there, of course, but between himself, Gwen, and Morgana (because she would likely kill him if he didn't inform her about this), they could probably figure out how best to treat the wound.

Arthur picked Merlin up, one arm around his back and the other under his knees. This was likely the best way to carry him to guarantee that his wound wouldn't reopen. He wouldn't be jostled around as much as opposed to being hefted over the prince's shoulder. He situated him in a comfortable position (and he was certainly light for someone as tall as he was), before heading back the way he came, walking quickly and all the while hoping that it really wasn't too late. He could still feel Merlin breathing, each breath shallow but there. He prayed it would stay that way.