Hi everyone! I want to thank you all for reading, favoriting, and reviewing. You're awesome! My new goal is to update weekly.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin.
This one was a request—my first request! :D—from user lightlights. I'm very open to requests! Thank you for yours, lightlights, and keep them coming everyone! Let me know how I'm doing! Should there be more bromance, or am I overdoing it? Do you have a specific ailment that you would like to see, or a specific situation, or a specific reaction? Should Gwaine or Lancelot get in on the action? Please tell me! :D
And now, on to the story.
Battle Wound
The hunting trip is cut short. Bandits are upon them in a flash, attacking them with swords and heavy clubs before any of the knights or the servant have time to react.
Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot are fighting off armed thieves left and right before they even have time to register what had happened. A sword cuts deeply into Merlin's stomach and he doubles over. Arthur is bruised badly in the arm with a club. The other knights are luckier, escaping with only minor cuts and bruises.
After successfully fighting off the bandits, Lancelot begins to tend to Arthur's wound, while Gwaine hurries over to Merlin, still writhing in pain and squatting on the ground. Gwaine begins to bandage the wound and, after finishing with the Prince, Lancelot runs off to fetch more clean water for them to drink.
Arthur, preoccupied with his own wound, does not take note of Merlin, but the servant knows fully well that his master is injured. As soon as he is able to stand without feeling as if he could faint, Merlin finds his way to where Arthur is sitting by the fire that Gwaine had made and sits next to him.
"You were injured. How badly?" he asks.
"I'm fine. Nothing is broken, at least," the Prince replies. Looking up at Merlin, he takes notice of the blood on his shirt for the first time. "Merlin, you're covered in blood! Are you alright?"
"Yes, it's just a cut. Gwaine bandaged it up for me, so it's alright now," he smiles. Gwaine perks up at the mention of his name before going back to stirring a pot of something boiling above the fire. When Lancelot returns with the water, he brings it straight to Merlin.
"Drink, friend. You lost quite a bit of blood," he says, handing him the pouch before walking over to where Gwaine is seated waiting for the food to cook.
Merlin hands the pouch to Arthur, who takes a drink and then hands it back to Merlin, who takes a few long, satisfying gulps.
"How much blood did you lose?" the Prince asks, trying not to seem concerned.
"Not that much. Lancelot is just overly concerned," he lies. He knows that he was injured quite badly, but says nothing. Arthur had been injured too, after all, and making him worry is not something Merlin wants to do. Arthur nods, looking over Merlin again. He is sweating and pale, breathing rapidly. However, considering they have just been fighting bandits, this is not abnormal. He disregards it.
Merlin, feeling dizzy and nauseous, turns onto his side to sleep, and is unconscious in minutes. However, his nap is short lived, because not long after he falls asleep the food is ready to eat.
"Hey Princess, wake up Merlin so he can eat," Gwaine calls to Arthur in what sounds suspiciously like an order.
"He's only just fallen asleep, maybe we should let him rest and eat when he wakes up later," Arthur suggests.
"I think he should eat now, he was wounded during the battle. We'll let him rest later."
The Prince does as the older man said, taking the small amount of leftover water in the pouch beside him and splashing it onto the servant's face.
Merlin sits up quickly, startled, and instantly regrets it. The wound burns and stings intensely, and he grips his midriff, hissing in pain. Arthur instantly puts his uninjured arm under the younger man's back, easing him into a semi-recumbent position.
He raises his eyebrows expectantly at his servant, but the gesture goes unseen, as his eyes are shut in an attempt to fight the overwhelming sense of vertigo that had struck him.
When he opens his eyes again, he finds that all the knights are staring at him. The warlock waves off the concerned gazes and smiles. Arthur looks as if he's going to ask a question, but Merlin interrupts.
"The way I moved aggravated my cut, that's all. Don't worry, Sire," he insists, half mocking and half reassuring. Receiving a nod in reply, the knights and the servant eat their dinners.
After the meal, Merlin falls asleep once again, Lancelot sitting next to him, checking on him frequently. Arthur, concern growing for the young man, confronts Gwaine.
"Should we be worried? Do you think that it would be best to get him back to Camelot to see Gaius?" the Prince asked, throwing a glance towards Merlin for clarification.
"He'll be okay. The sword cut him pretty good, but I patched him back up. As long as he takes it easy and doesn't reopen the wound, he should be fine," Gwaine answers, a hint of self-admiration in his voice.
Accepting this answer, Arthur nods and bids goodnight to Gwaine before falling asleep, followed shortly thereafter by the rest of the knights.
Everyone rises with the sun the next morning except Merlin. After deciding to let him sleep a bit longer, the men pack up the campsite and load everything back onto the horses before waking the young man.
Merlin feels sore and tired, and his wound throbs painfully and feels warm to the touch. He says nothing and gets onto his horse, knowing that they have well over a few hours of riding ahead of them.
The time passes slowly and Merlin feels worse with each hour. By late afternoon, he's swaying on his horse dizzy and slightly disoriented. But mostly thirsty. He's so thirsty. Shivering with cold despite sweating, he asks for a drink of water.
Arthur, who was previously at the front of the group, upon seeing Merlin's obvious illness, gets off his horse and orders everyone else to do the same. Lancelot helps the servant off his horse while Gwaine goes to fetch more water. Lancelot's cool hand rests upon the servant's forehead as Arthur walks over to them questioningly.
"You're very warm. What do you suggest we do, Sire?" Lancelot said, turning from Merlin to Arthur as he addresses them.
"We'll rest here. Gwaine should be back soon with water; we'll try to cool his fever down. Un-bandage his wound for now so we can see whether it's becoming infected," he orders. Lancelot complies and removes the young man's shirt and bandage, finding it, not surprisingly, very red and showing definite signs of infection. It had reopened wither while riding the horse or getting down from it, and is once again bleeding.
Arthur's eyes widen in shock and outrage when he sees the deep, wide gash. It stretches nearly all the way across his midriff.
"Merlin! You told me that your cut was nothing to worry about!" he tries to keep his voice calm, but he can't mask the anger in his tone.
"It's not," the warlock replies. Gwaine arrives back with the water, and Arthur tears a strip of fabric from his shirt to make a cool compress for Merlin's forehead.
"You think that's 'nothing to worry about'? You could have damaged organs, idiot," he says in a much gentler tone.
"It's not that deep."
"You're truly a moron. Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"
"I had other things to worry about."
"Things that were more important than you being sliced to bits? What was more bloody important than that?" the Prince asks angrily. He's not shouting, but he's fully ready to be.
"You were wounded too, Arthur," he responds quietly. Arthur is silent for a moment.
"So, because I was bruised slightly, you think that is a reason for you to allow yourself to bleed out without even mentioning it to me?"
"Gwaine staunched the bleeding, so there was no possibility of that," Merlin replies. He begins to feel sleepy, and lets his eyes slide shut. Arthur lays a hand on his servant's cheek.
"You've got a fever," he says simply, and Merlin nods. "Does it hurt?"
The warlock's eyes open again, only slightly irritated at the older man for not allowing him to rest.
"Does what hurt? The wound? Yeah, a little," he admits, and an awkward pause follows. His eyes once again drift closed, and this time Arthur does not interrupt. He sits by him, tending to his fever while he sleeps.
"We should probably get him to Gaius. He needs to be treated by a physician," comes Lancelot's voice, warm but serious. Arthur hadn't known that he had been standing close by during their conversation, and flushes slightly at the thought.
"You're right. We'll ride back as soon as he wakes up."
"Maybe we should wake him now, Princess. The infection is only going to get worse, so we should get him back as quickly as possible," says Gwaine. Arthur nods and shakes his servant lightly, calling his name. Merlin stirs and wakes.
Lancelot walks over as Arthur begins to pack away everything they had taken out back onto the horses with Gwaine's assistance. He rests a hand on the boy's cheek.
"His fever is quite high now, Sire. I think it might be dangerous for him to ride a horse. If he passes out and falls off, he could injure himself even more," Lancelot says. Everyone's attention turns to Merlin, who is swaying slightly where he stands and seeming to struggle to stay awake even now. Arthur moves to support him.
"He can ride double with me, that way he won't be able to fall," the Prince suggests, and Lancelot nods.
They get on their horses and set off towards the castle, reaching it by nightfall. Arthur sits behind Merlin, who drifts in and out of consciousness the whole time. The Prince can feel heat radiating off the young man's feverish body as he presses more and more of his weight against Arthur.
By the time they arrive at the castle gates, Merlin's full weight has been against Arthur for quite a long time, and his arms ache. He takes little notice, however, and the men move quickly to Gauis's chambers and lay him in the bed.
After applying some salve and a cold compress and forcing some vile tasting tonic down his ward's throat, Gaius promises that Merlin will make a full recovery and suggests that the knights go home and sleep. Merlin regains consciousness just as they are leaving, but none of them take note until he calls out.
"Arthur."
The Prince stands at the bedside of his semi-lucid, feverish, injured manservant and looks down expectantly.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Forgive me?"
Arthur smiles and rolls his eyes.
"Of course I forgive you, idiot. Just don't do it again. Get some rest, Merlin," he says, ruffling the warlock's hair affectionately, but still a bit roughly.
"Ow, prat! You do the same. And thank you for bringing me here."
"Well, I couldn't very well have left you in the forest to die. Lancelot and Gwaine would have had my head!"
Merlin laughed, and Arthur did the same.
"But really, do rest up. I mean that. You've got chores to do," he adds jokingly.
"Arthur!" he whines, and Arthur shoots him a look that shuts him up as he stands to leave.
"Good night, Merlin," he calls from the doorway.
"Good night, Sire." His tone is dripping with sarcasm. Arthur leaves smiling to himself. Merlin falls asleep doing the same.