Summary: An anthology of intense hurt / comfort stories featuring the bromantic relationship of Arthur and Merlin. Drama, angst, h/c, friendship, family, Arthur whump, Merlin whump.

Author's Notes: More reviews = More stories!

Hurt and Comfort in Camelot

PenPatronus

Story 4

The Life You Save

Part 1

At midnight, Merlin heard a voice whisper his name in his ear. In a graceless movement, he rolled out of bed and picked up his only weapon: a shoe. "Gaius?" Merlin whispered to the darkness. "Hello?"

Merlin.

The voice sounded familiar but Merlin couldn't place it. His father's face appeared in a distant corner of his memory, but he dismissed it immediately.

Merlin.

Merlin dropped the shoe and followed the voice through his door, out of Gaius' room and up the cold stone stairs. He focused on his ears more than his eyes, so he had little clue what direction the voice was leading him. It got quieter every few minutes until Merlin had to jog to hear it at all. He sprinted down an unfamiliar corridor, flew around the corner and smacked right into someone's chest, knocking them both to the ground.

"Merlin!"

That voice he knew.

"Sorry, Arthur." The two men sat up and rubbed their heads. The King was also in his nightclothes, and barefoot, and he looked as groggy as Merlin felt.

"Were you calling my name just now?" Arthur asked after they climbed to their feet. "I could've sworn I heard your voice."

"Really? I thought I heard –"

Merlin… Arthur…

The king and the sorcerer's eyes widened. "…thought I heard that," Merlin gulped.

Arthur pivoted toward a door on the other side of the wall. He pulled it open, glanced over the threshold, then waved Merlin inside. They were in one of the spare armories in the west quadrant of the castle. Arthur took a sword off the wall and hefted it in front of him. They'd only taken a dozen steps into the room when the door behind them slammed shut. Merlin doubled back and tried to open it, but found it locked from the outside. Just as suddenly, the ten torches lining the long, narrow room erupted in light all on their own.

"Sorcery," Merlin whispered. "Arthur, this is a trap."

"Stay behind me," the king said. They moved at a snail's pace, eyeing the swords, spears and arrows hung on both sides and the darker corner in front. Merlin thought he saw something move. He opened his mouth to speak but suddenly a dagger shot out of the darkness and imbedded in Arthur's chest. He wore no chainmail to slow it down. There wasn't even a chance to try to dodge it. Arthur gasped. He swayed. Color disappeared from his skin and he collapsed straight back into Merlin's arms.

"Arthur!" Merlin cushioned his fall – the inside of his elbow beneath Arthur's neck, his other arm around his waist. Arthur pulled the dagger out and his screams nearly deafened them both. "No!" Merlin cried. He glared up at the figure in the corner. "Show yourself, you coward!"

A man limped out wearing hooded robes so thick that Merlin couldn't see his face. "That pierced his heart, Merlin," he said. "I suggest you heal him quickly."

"Who are you?" Merlin bellowed. "Why? Why did you do this?"

"Merlin," Arthur coughed, sprinkling blood on them both.

The hooded man stepped closer. "He has moments left, Merlin. Seconds."

Arthur's hand was coated in blood and Merlin flinched at the heat when Arthur grabbed him. "Gwen," he gasped.

"Do it," the man said.

"I can't heal a wound this bad!" Merlin cried. "There's nothing I can do!"

"Try!"

"Merlin…" Arthur's whole body convulsed. His entire shirt was red. "Look after her." His eyes rolled back into his skull.

"NOW!" the man bellowed.

Spells burst from Merlin's throat like fire from a dragon's. His fingers braided together on Arthur's chest and pressed. Arthur's eyes burst open and his jaw dropped, and trembled. He said Merlin's name but his servant didn't hear it over his own words. A wheeze rose from Arthur's lungs. His eyes widened further – in pain, not surprise.

He wasn't healing.

The limping man suddenly placed his hand over Merlin's, then backed away when a halo of light rose from Merlin's skin and rolled across Arthur's body like an ocean wave. Arthur stared into his friend's face, but then his eyes were drawn down to his own body. He watched, transfixed, hypnotized, as the blood flow stopped, the wound knitted and the pain morphed from a sharp fire to a spiked throb to nothing more than an aching bruise. Sweat shimmered on Merlin's brow and his eyes hovered in tears. He held his breath and checked the wound, then buried his face against Arthur's gut when the healing was confirmed and his energy spent.

"I, Merlin…" Arthur whispered, mindlessly petting his friend's hair. "You… That was magic. This whole time you've…" He looked past his friend at the figure, and yelled, "Merlin!"

Merlin sat up with his hands already raised. His eyes flashed gold and the five spears about to skewer them both froze in mid-air, then dropped to the floor. Three swords flipped down to eye level and joined a whole quiver of arrows. Merlin yelled in frustration when the weapons attacked. He broke the arrows with one slash of his hands and embedded the swords in the wall with the other. Arthur barely blinked as he watched his servant protect him. His mouth moved with undistinguishable words piecing together unorganized thoughts.

After Merlin shielded Arthur from nearly every weapon in the room he crouched in front of him and helped him sit up. "Arthur? Are you all right?" Arthur just stared at him. "Don't be frightened," Merlin said, grabbing his friend's shoulders. "It's just me; I'm the same Merlin you've always known. I swear all I've ever done with my powers help you. You believe that, right? Arthur?"

The king said nothing. His expression was neutral save for the shock in his eyes.

"Well done, young sorcerer," the hooded figure said with sincerity. "You've passed the tests. When you're able to stop a hundred spears on a battlefield and heal mortal wounds at the same time, you just might be able to protect the king."

"He could've died, you bastard!" Merlin leapt to his feet and would've tackled the figure if Arthur hadn't grabbed his arm. "What tests? Who are you?" he demanded.

The limping man kept them waiting no longer. He slid his hand through his hair from the crown of his head to the back of his neck and took the hood with it. Merlin backed up and nearly tripped over Arthur when he saw the man's face.

Merlin was looking at himself.

His hair was shoulder-length and speckled with white, as was his beard. The ears were the same, the eyes and the lips. A scar divided his left cheek. His favored his left foot and held his weight sideways. The scarf he wore was a faded blue and coming apart at the seams. Three objects hung from a chain around his neck: two silver rings and a tiny leather pouch. The robes might have been Camelot-red at one point but they were too dirty to be sure.

"I'm dreaming," both Arthur and the young Merlin said simultaneously.

"No, you're not. I am Merlin, the same Merlin, twenty years from today." Before anyone could ask, the older Merlin held up one hand and said, "I can prove it."

To Be Continued

(tomorrow, if you review!)