A/N: This chapter is longer than the others. 11 pages, 6,100 some words. I hope that's not a deterrent. I also feel the need to explain something about this. A lot happens in this chapter. I played with the idea of breaking it into two, but I would've had to add a section somewhere, and nothing worthwhile came to me. I refuse to add something simply for the sake of filling in space. So instead, you get a very full and slightly longer if not somewhat odd chapter. By odd I mean that when I went back through it, I told my sister "hmm...this chapter seems to be lacking a great deal of 'a certain something.'" I won't tell you what. If you notice, then kudos to you. If you don't, then I will feel truly accomplished, because it means that the lack of "a certain something" didn't matter. Yes, I'm aware I'm being confusing. Just read the chapter though. It's nice, long, and heavy, if not a bit different.
I really hope this chapter is alright. It has a lot of words, but this is how it wrote itself. I've long since accepted the fact that regardless of what sort of plans I start with, the story will just write itself the way it wants to be written. This is how it came out, and so I don't intend to add or change anything. There's nothing important that could've been added to this section without taking away from something else, like the intentional ambiguity. So...hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint, despite what occurs during it.
Title: Healing Spells
Author: BeyondTheStorm
Rating: T for some violence and bloodshed, and for Merlin getting a bit too carried away.
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, just to be safe.
Warnings: This story contains non-suicidal self-harm and blood.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Merlin is the property of the BBC and Shine. I am but a simple fan.
Thank you for all the reviews! You guys are wonderful! And thanks to everyone reading my story. I pray that this particular turn of events doesn't turn anyone away. I kept it to just a few chapters for that reason. Please review, and please be kind. Criticism is fine if it's constructive, but no flames please.
WARNING: I told you this was coming. This chapter contains non-suicidal self-harm, though not much and not too graphic. That being said, this chapter is also just a tiny pinch dark (I mean, come on...you kinda can't write self-harm, even of the non-suicidal variety, in a completely lighthearted way). I'm sorry if this is a squick for anyone, but you were warned from day one.
CHAPTER 7
Day 12: No new injuries. Arthur won't let me return to work yet. He said to wait until tomorrow. Tried numbing the pain in my arm with magic. Lasted most of the day. Decided to do some reading up on healing spells. Turns out scars can be healed with magic, though not if they've existed for more than two months. Doesn't explain why, exactly, but I won't doubt it.
I also learned that the magic used to heal a wound does indeed pool in it, and if redirected, the wound will return to its unhealed state. Thankfully, as the wound heals, the amount of magic needed lessens.
Trying to force more magic into larger wounds may or may not work. The wound might heal faster but won't heal instantly, and occasionally forcing in too much magic will make the wound worse. Best to keep that in mind (really glad that didn't happen during days 6 and 7).
Day 13: Returned to work. Only minor scrapes and bruises. Healed all of them. Arthur still won't let me do too much. Arm is still healing nicely.
Day 14: Still no new injuries worth experimenting on. Took off bandages. Wound is just a rather long scab now. Arthur let me return to most of my duties (have been getting bored lately).
Read a bit further into the healing section and found the terms "taking" and "sharing." Both worry me. Will have to read further later, when there's more time.
Day 15: Scab on arm started pealing. Will try healing it completely tomorrow. Healed small cut on palm from polishing Arthur's sword. Closed completely. Other than a few bruises, no new injuries.
"Taking" and "sharing" refer to ways of preventing death by fatal and near fatal injuries, the kinds that are beyond healing with normal healing spells. Both will maintain the balance, but "taking" is similar to the power of life and death, the law that one must die if another is to be spared. It involves taking the wound onto oneself. Theoretically, this could work with all wounds but isn't necessary seeing as how healing spells can take care of most injuries.
"Sharing" deals with wounds that are serious but that aren't immediately fatal (probably like a stab wound or like being shot with an arrow, not through the heart or lungs). It has to do with splitting the injury, having two people carry part of it. This way a possibly fatal wound becomes one that can be healed through healing magic. Takes a lot of magic though to do it. Probably won't need to use it. Would never ask someone to do that for me.
Day 16: Tried further healing the wound on my arm. Happy to say it closed up completely. Only a white line remains, which will likely fade in a few more days. Can still feel the magic flowing through it, though not much.
No new injuries.
Merlin heaved a sigh as he read over that last line. It had been appearing a lot lately in his notes. Unlike the first week, where something had happened to him almost everyday, now nothing was happening, aside from the normal scrapes and bruises he received from being his usual, clumsy self. Arthur had been keeping him away from anything too stressful, like sparring or going hunting. They hadn't done either in over a week, and it was a little frustrating, really.
He paused for a moment, replaying that last thought, and then groaned in shame as he let his head hit the table. It was official. He really did have a mental affliction. He had just lamented over the fact that Arthur hadn't been beating on him or dragging him through the forest to kill harmless animals. When had everything become so twisted?
It was probably about the same time that he started basing success on his number of injuries instead of a lack thereof.
Getting up from the table rather listlessly, he went back to his room and put the book away before returning in order to find something to eat. He still had a loaf of bread, an apple, and a bit of dried meat left, which could easily be made into a meal, so he grabbed a nearby knife and got started. The food had lasted him longer than it should have, seeing as how Arthur had been worried for most of the week and had practically forced him to eat from the prince's plate. Arthur had been requesting more food the past week so that there'd be enough.
He had always wanted for Arthur to be a bit more considerate and to take notice of other people besides his princely self, but this was a bit much. He also got the feeling that Beth somehow knew what Arthur was up to, seeing as how she hadn't brought his request into question and hadn't been forcing food upon Merlin. Honestly, was everyone in collaboration? Had Gaius asked everyone the warlock knew to keep an eye on him? Was he really that incapable of taking care of himself?
Unfortunately, past experiences would point to "yes" as being the correct answer. He surely would've been executed long ago if not for Gaius, and Arthur had saved his life a handful of times as well, in so many different ways. Gwen and Morgana had also done their fair share of helping, keeping him out of trouble and supporting him. He wouldn't have gotten far without them.
Still, it wasn't as if he couldn't look after himself. He wasn't a complete idiot, after all.
Simply because everything seemed to like going against him, it was at that moment that the knife slipped and he sliced his finger open. Abandoning the loaf of bread he had been cutting into slices, he dropped the knife and shoved the injured finger in his mouth, sulking all the while. Typical.
It figures. Can't even make lunch without injuring myself…
His eyes widened. He removed his finger and looked down at it, still bleeding freely. He whispered the words needed to stop the bleeding, and it stopped just like that. He then closed the wound, leaving nothing more than a thin red line against pale skin. He just stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked back over to the discarded knife. He slowly reached for it before pulling his hand back quickly, shocked at what he'd almost considered doing.
For a moment, he had actually been about to…
What was I thinking? This is ridiculous! There's no way I could actually… I told Gaius I wouldn't…
With a frustrated sigh, he started pacing, which really wasn't helping any. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push back the ridiculous impulse he had just had. All the while his eyes kept wandering back to the knife.
This is insane. I can't do it! Accidents are one thing, but doing something intentionally…
No new injuries.
Those words kept coming back to him. For almost a week, he had made no new progress on his healing magic, aside from the reading he'd done. He hadn't been able to practice or experiment. There were so many theories that needed to be tested so that when something happened, he'd be ready. He needed to get better at it, to become stronger. How could he do that without practicing, and how could he practice if he didn't get hurt?
What if something were to happen? What if he got wounded again, like in the forest, and what if the desperation wasn't enough to heal him? What if Arthur got hurt? What if the prince were to die because he wasn't good enough?
He had to become stronger. He needed to learn more. He needed to practice.
He needed to be wounded in order to practice.
He stopped pacing and just stared at the knife lying on the table. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, mind blank other than the constant repeat of no new injuries, no new injuries…
Eventually he managed to turn away, heading for the door. He was no longer hungry, and he had a prince to serve. He also had a lot of thinking to do.
After a long day of working, Merlin returned to his room exhausted but somewhat content. Finally, finally, Arthur had stopped acting so concerned. The prince had ordered him to do all his normal tasks, including mucking out the stables. He also hadn't tried to feed his servant anything from his own plate. Apparently the warlock must have passed some sort of test, because the prince had obviously deemed him fully healed and once again capable of working without being coddled (and whether Arthur would admit to it or not, that's exactly what he had been doing).
This did mean though that he was rather hungry, having not eaten since breakfast. He was rather grateful that no one had decided to inquire about his eating for the day. He didn't particularly like lying to people, especially when they were just concerned about him. However, claiming not to have eaten would lead to questions about why he hadn't, and that wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.
His cheery mood fell a bit as his eyes wandered over to the food still sitting on the table, the knife lying ominously next to it. For a moment he just stared at it before walking over and taking a slice of bread. He suddenly wasn't all that hungry anymore, but he had to eat something at least. His thoughts from before crashed down on him, along with the events of the day. Once again, even after all the work he had done for Arthur, he hadn't gotten hurt once.
No new injuries.
Merlin finished his bread and sat down at the table. He picked up the knife and fiddled with it a bit, getting lost in thought. He needed a way to practice. He wasn't good enough at healing yet, and there was a lot he still didn't know. However, practicing healing magic required wounds to practice on, and he couldn't go off looking for injuries (he had established that early on). The only way to practice without getting caught was on himself, and if he didn't have any injuries to practice on, then he would have to create…
His musings were cut off as the knife slipped and he found himself cutting his finger for the second time that day, cursing his clumsiness. It stung quite a bit, and so he whispered the words for easing pain and found that it instantly stopped hurting. He then used both the incantations for stopping the bleeding and closing the wound (it wasn't necessary to do both, but he needed as much practice as he could get).
Glancing at the knife again, he slowly picked it back up. For a while he simply held it, feeling its weight in his hand.
He had to practice, to see what he was actually capable of. There was still so much he needed to learn.
This was necessary.
He set the blade against his palm but didn't move it. Despite his somewhat masochistic habits, he wasn't partial to pain. Just thinking about it hurt. He suddenly wondered if there was a way to stop the pain before getting injured. He tried the spell for easing pain, trying to concentrate it into his hand, specifically his palm. He could feel the magic pooling there, and with a deep breath, he pressed the knife down and slid it, cutting across his palm. The wound bled but didn't hurt. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that one of his experiments had actually worked.
However, the wound was rather deep because of it, seeing as how he hadn't had the pain there to stop him. He quickly whispered the spell to stop the bleeding before any of it could get on his clothing. He then tried to close the wound, and it scabbed over quite nicely. It didn't disappear like the scratches did, nor did it become just a line against his skin, but it healed.
The warlock just stared at the injury for a moment, feeling the magic pooling in it. Seeing as how he had had so much lack of progress the last week, he decided to try a few more things. It was time to test what his book had said and what his own theory was. He tried to will the magic to move somewhere else, to move away from the cut. He tried forcing his magic to instead light the candles in the room, focusing mostly on the magic gathered in his hand.
He honestly hadn't been expecting what happened.
The wound began to reopen, bleeding freely, and it hurt. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out as the magic was pulled out and the flesh torn back open. Apparently he had redirected all the magic that had been there, meaning that the pain returned. His palm felt like it was burning, and he quickly stopped trying to light the candles. The moment he lost focus on what he had been doing, the wound closed back up and the pain receded.
Breathing deep, he set the knife down and let his head rest against the table. That was enough experimenting for one day. He would wait to jot it down tomorrow. Right now he just really needed to get some sleep.
With only minor difficulty, he managed to get up from the table. He quickly cleaned the knife, put away the food, and extinguished all the candles he had lit before heading into his room and collapsing onto the bed.
He couldn't help but smile as he started to drift off. He had just found a way around his lack of progress.
Day 17: Last night, cut palm open. Found out I can ease the pain before being injured (probably not a good idea in most situations). Wound stopped bleeding and healed to a scab. Tried redirecting the magic. Wound reopened. Hurt a lot more than it probably should've (won't be trying that again). Wound closed back up when I stopped focusing.
Burned hand when lighting Arthur's fireplace today (accident). Used spell for open wounds again. Worked like before (this seems like a definite thing. Will also jot it down in the book).
Cuts less than about three inches long and shallow will close up to just a raised red line. Scratches and very small cuts (ones that don't bleed much) will heal completely. Most bruises also fade completely. Will experiment more tomorrow.
Day 18: Cuts more than three inches long will scab over. Doesn't seem to matter how long they are, as long as the wound is shallow enough. Will test depth tomorrow.
Broke one of Gaius' vials (accident). Picked up all the pieces. Hands got cut up a bit. Healed all wounds. Nothing but red and white lines. Should fade in a few days.
Still haven't gotten to try the spell for healing broken bones. Will not experiment with it (can't risk it not working). Wonder if it would also work for dislocations. Will look in the book to see. Too tired right now. Will turn in early so as not to collapse tomorrow.
Day 19: Headache. Can't fix it with magic. Took a remedy which seemed to help a bit. Will probably have to take another one later.
Deep cuts will also scab over as long as the bleeding is stopped first (will experiment with this more later too). Have gotten very good at both spells. The wounds are closing up faster than before, almost instantly.
Repeating the healing spell will work if done carefully. Best to wait a day before trying to further heal a wound. Wounds healed with magic tend to keep closing faster than normal wounds anyway, so there's not much point in trying to further heal them. Will keep experimenting anyway.
Day 20: Still have a headache. Took another remedy. Still doesn't help much.
Tripped and fell down the stairs (accident). Head was bleeding. Gwen saw it happen. Returned to chambers and asked her not to tell anyone else. Stopped the bleeding after she left. Won't heal it, not yet.
Puncture wounds follow the same rules as cuts, about the depth and length.
Really getting good at the pain easing spell. Can't feel the wounds at all, although they're a bit sore while healing (can't ease the pain for all of them all the time, after all. Would likely collapse again from using too much magic).
Will try a few more things tomorrow.
To say that Gwen was worried would be an understatement.
Honestly, there probably wasn't a word that would even begin to cover how she was feeling.
It had been three weeks since Gaius had left—three long weeks, and there had been very little news of his progress with the disease spreading in the outer villages. Even the king seemed to be getting a bit worried about the physician.
Gwen was fairly certain that Gaius was alright. He had been sending Merlin letters, another having arrived just a few days ago, and the physician's ward had been kind enough to share the information with her. It was nothing positive, but at least their friend was safe.
But none of that was what was worrying her. It was what she had seen when talking to Merlin that had her so worried. She had thought she was mistaken at first, but after looking a bit more carefully, she had found that the boy's hands were covered in what looked like small cuts, or at least what had once been cuts. They were a scatter of white and red lines, almost like scratches.
He had also had a rather large cut across his left palm.
She hadn't mentioned any of it to him, because he had seemed unconcerned about the state of his hands when showing her the letter. She had thought that perhaps he had had an off day; he was rather clumsy at times. Getting hurt in small ways was kind of a weekly, sometimes daily occurrence for the boy.
Unfortunately, it hadn't stopped there.
The next day, Merlin had complained briefly about a headache. He had claimed to be fine though, but there had been more cuts, and his right hand had been bandaged. This time she hadn't been able to resist asking, and he had told her that his hand had slipped when polishing Arthur's sword. He had looked a bit nervous, stumbling over the explanation, but she had let it go. Merlin was a terrible liar though, and she knew his story wasn't entirely true. That was probably when she really started to think that something was wrong with him. Seeing him falling down the stairs the next day certainly hadn't helped matters any.
When Merlin had gotten back to his feet after crashing head first down the stairs, Gwen had quickly forced him to return to his chambers where she had helped him clean the gash on his forehead. He had ushered her away before she could finish though, claiming it wasn't that bad and that he felt fine. She had been about to protest, but he had flashed that disarming smile of his, making her relent and leave him to it.
In hindsight, she should have stayed with him.
The past few days, her distress had been building with each event surrounding Merlin, but it was what she had seen just moments ago that had her completely unraveling and terrified. She had gone to Gaius' chambers to see if perhaps the physician had made up some extra sleeping drafts. Morgana was almost out of them.
The door had been left open, and from the doorway she had seen Merlin kneeling on the floor with a tub for washing clothes. He had appeared to be doing his own laundry, not Arthur's. She had been about to go in and ask for the sleeping draft when he pulled his hands out of the soapy water.
She shuddered at the memory, her stomach twisting uncomfortably from recalling what she had seen. His sleeves had been rolled up so that they wouldn't get wet, allowing her to bear witness to what should have been unmarred pale flesh. What she saw instead had frozen her in the doorway in sheer horror and overwhelming concern.
The cuts hadn't been limited to just his hands.
There had been all sorts of different wounds, all different lengths, marring skin that should have been unmarked. Some had been just red lines, others were scabbed over, and some had looked fresh, as if they had only just stopped bleeding…as if they had been made that day.
She had fled from the doorway, thoughts racing and completely unsure what to do. It had probably been over an hour since then, and she was still at a loss. Part of her didn't want to believe what she had seen, wanted to make an excuse for it, but there were no explanations, save one, and it just didn't make sense. It was unthinkable. Merlin wasn't like that. He just couldn't have…
The proof was all right there though, staring her in the face. Those wounds weren't a result of falling down the stairs or clumsiness. There were too many and they were too big, made by some sort of blade most likely. She really didn't want to think about that, but the thoughts were already there. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall, trying to calm down a bit, because the truth of the matter was that those wounds had been intentional.
Merlin had done that to himself.
She wanted to cry, scream, run, do something that wasn't just standing there and fretting, but she was nervous and scared and completely lost. What was she supposed to do about this? She couldn't talk to Merlin. She wanted to but couldn't. She wanted to go to him and demand answers, to yell at him for being so stupid and scaring her like this, but she just couldn't do any of it. She didn't know what to do with this.
It kind of felt like someone had dumped a pail of ice down her back, and the feeling wasn't going away. It wasn't going to until something was done, until Merlin was confronted about this and forced to stop, or until she could be convinced that her friend really wasn't hurting himself and was just that clumsy.
The latter wasn't likely, which meant she needed to do something about it, and if she couldn't face Merlin herself, she had to find someone who could. There was really only one person for the job, one person in all of Camelot who could get the truth out of Merlin, who could force him to answer for his actions and fix this whole mess.
Arthur.
Gwen stood nervously outside the prince's chamber, hand raised to knock on the door. She took in a deep breath, gathering her nerves. She needed to explain the situation to him, and she wouldn't be able to do so properly if she was nothing more than an anxious, worried wreck. This was important and delicate, and she needed him to understand that.
With two swift knocks, she made her presence known.
"Enter," came the response, and so she pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it quietly behind her. Arthur was sitting at his desk, reading over what appeared to be a report, but he stopped upon noticing her presence.
"Guinevere," he greeted, sounding a bit surprised.
"Sire," she said, bowing slightly, and she was vaguely aware that she wasn't doing a great job of hiding her state of mind. She was already wringing her hands, and it didn't go unnoticed. She saw Arthur moving, setting down his report and making his way over to her.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, seeming genuinely concerned, which thankfully would make this whole conversation a bit easier. The prince was difficult to talk to sometimes, depending on his mood.
"I…I need to speak with you," she began, raising her gaze to his, if only to silently let him know that this was personal and important.
"What is it?"
She didn't say anything at first, gathering her thoughts and figuring out how best to approach this. Telling him outright didn't seem like the best idea, because she didn't want him to simply shrug this off and tell her that she was worrying too much, that Merlin would never do anything like that. She had to make him understand, make him see what she had.
"It's about Merlin," she began, and once more she was surprised at the brief look of panic that flashed across his face, much like when she had come running to him on the practice field and told him about the attack in the forest. She was a bit curious about what sort of conclusion he kept drawing, but there wasn't time for that right now. She could ponder it later.
"What about him?"
"He's…he's been acting differently this past week, don't you think?" It wasn't quite what she had wanted to say, but it was indeed true. The boy had been behaving a bit strangely. Every time she saw him, he seemed to be rushing off, and he had been spending a lot of time cooped up in his chambers. Questioning his injuries had also gotten her some rather strange results, almost as if Merlin didn't want to talk about them, like he was trying to keep them all hidden as best he could.
"I haven't really noticed anything different," said Arthur. "Other than the fact that he kept trying to rush everything that didn't involve returning to his chambers, he was acting the same as usual."
"Did you notice any wounds?"
He didn't answer right away, as if thinking it over a bit. Arthur did spend a lot of time with Merlin, so she was certain he had to have noticed something.
"He did seem to have a lot of cuts on his hands," he replied, "but he said they were from clearing up a shattered vial. He also had a wound on his head, but Merlin's forever getting hurt due to clumsiness. Nothing to worry about."
Gwen bit her lip and turned her attention downward, knowing she needed to voice her concern and soon, before she lost her nerve or just started panicking. How best to approach this…?
"Why?" asked Arthur, frowning. "Is something wrong?"
"It's just…I went to see him about an hour ago to ask for a sleeping draft for Morgana, and he was washing clothes at the time. He didn't notice me there, and I was about to go in, but I…"
She swallowed hard, her eyes tearing up a bit. Gods, this was difficult.
"Merlin had his sleeves rolled up, and his arms…they were covered in cuts."
He just stared at her for a moment, and she couldn't quite get anything out of his expression. She rather hated that, because she was barely managing to keep herself from being hysterical about this.
"Cuts?" he asked, and his tone didn't give her anything to go off of either.
"Yes. There were so many, I…I didn't know what to do, I didn't…" She couldn't take it anymore. It was all just too much, and before she knew it, her words started coming out in a panicked flood. "Gods, Arthur, I don't know what to do about this! I don't know how to make him stop!"
"Gwen, calm down." He took a step towards her, hands raised as if approaching a startled horse. "There's no reason to…"
"Yes there is! You don't understand! You didn't see…they were everywhere, and some were new! Please Arthur, you need to do something!"
"What do you expect me to do? It's not like I can prevent Merlin from tripping over his own two feet or dropping things. It'd be like trying to stop the tide!"
"Just tell him to stop! Please, Arthur!"
"What are you talking about? What do you mean just tell him to stop…?"
Gwen could practically see the prince's mind spinning and recognized the very moment it stopped. Arthur froze, his eyes widening, and she was certain he could feel the ice being dumped down his back as well. Even though this conversation had gotten away from her, what with her desperate pleading and the tears rolling down her cheeks, it seemed that she had been able to get through to him. She had just been so overwhelmed by it all, because one of her closest friends was in trouble, and she couldn't help him. She just didn't know how to, and the thought of it going further, of what could happen if he went too far…it was too much.
Arthur just stared at her, their eyes locking as everything between the lines was brought into plain sight.
"You think," he began softly, his voice low and filled with something she couldn't quite identify, "he's doing it deliberately."
It wasn't a question. He was probably well aware of what she was thinking.
"Yes, sire," she said just as softly. "It…it looked like they were made with a knife." She choked on the last word, because just thinking about it was painful. She couldn't help the shudder that ran through her in the wake of what she had seen.
Neither one of them said anything at first, but it wasn't long before Arthur shook his head, erasing his previous expression. He apparently had come to some sort of decision. When he met her eyes again, he was offering her a smile.
"I'm sure you're mistaken," he said. "Merlin wouldn't do something like that. I'm sure they're probably from some accident. It happens often enough. He fell down the stairs yesterday."
Despite the words, he didn't sound all that certain.
"I know," she said with a sigh, trying to calm herself down. "I know, but Arthur…"
"If it will ease your mind, I'll talk to him and find out what happened."
"Thank you, sire." She genuinely meant it too, finally feeling a little relief with the whole situation. "I know it may seem like I'm worrying too much, but Merlin's been behaving a bit differently lately, ever since Gaius left. I can't quite put my finger on what, but he's just seemed sort of tired, and the headaches…"
"Headaches?"
Gwen quickly closed her mouth. She hadn't meant to go quite that far, but her mouth tended to just say what it wanted sometimes. Arthur was giving her his undivided attention again, obviously waiting for an answer to his question, and she wondered if now was the time to tell him about what had happened two weeks ago. She had promised not to, but even if Merlin wasn't actually causing himself harm, there was still something going on with him. She had resolved herself to tell the prince if it happened again, and even though it hadn't, it still might have something to do with what was happening now.
"I'm sorry, sire," she began, bowing in apology. "I probably should have told you, but Merlin asked to keep it a secret. That day two weeks ago when Merlin and I were late, it wasn't because he dropped your breakfast."
She watched those piercing eyes narrow with something she couldn't quite identify.
"…Then why was he late?"
"He…on his way out, I ran into him—not literally, of course—and he seemed tired. He was very pale, and I asked if he was alright. He said he was fine, but then he dropped your tray, and he just…he collapsed, Arthur."
Well, she had no trouble identifying that expression, even though it was a bit shocking to see it so unguarded upon the prince's face. Concern was a rare thing from him, but he was practically bleeding it.
"He collapsed? Why wasn't I told about this?"
"He asked us to promise not to. He didn't want to worry you. He said it was nothing, just that his head had been hurting."
"That idiot!"
She watched as Arthur threw on his long brown coat and stormed over to the door, obviously ready for a confrontation. He paused, his hand resting on the handle, and turned to face her with a much more controlled yet soft expression. Her concern must still have been very visible, because he offered her a small, reassuring smile.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll get to the bottom of this. I'm sure it's not what it seems. Merlin isn't the type of person to intentionally hurt himself."
She watched him walk out the door, wishing she could be as certain.
Arthur was going to kill that idiot. He was pretty sure there had to be a law against making the crown prince worry so much in such a short amount of time. In just over a month, he had feared for his friend's life more times than he cared to admit, and now, now he had to deal with this! Why couldn't Merlin just stay out of trouble for a change? Was it too much to ask for just one month—one week, even—without incident? If it wasn't a magical attack against the kingdom, then it was some kind of creature or an assassination attempt, and apparently even when all of that was absent, Merlin could still find a way to ruin any dreams of having a normal, problem free month.
Sometimes the warlock was a lot more trouble than he was probably worth.
Arthur stormed down the corridors and then across the courtyard, making his way to Gaius' chambers where Merlin most likely was. The boy had been spending more and more time there instead of walking around the town or the castle. He was usually a lot more present than he had been recently, that was for sure. Instead he always seemed to be rushing through his chores and taking work back with him. Arthur didn't particularly care if Merlin used magic to do some of the tasks, which could explain why he had been spending so much time in his chambers, but he got the feeling that wasn't it. There was something else going on.
He tried not to think about it, but what Gwen had said really shook him. She would never lie about what she had seen, and that meant that Merlin really did have cuts all over his arms and hands, cuts that looked like they had been made with a knife. However, there had to be an explanation for that, because Arthur knew Merlin. He knew the warlock better than anyone, maybe even better than Gaius. There were no longer secrets between them, or at least there weren't supposed to be.
It hadn't been said and no promises had been made, but the two of them were supposed to be honest from now on. No more hiding, no more lying, no more pretending. It was an unspoken agreement, and he had thought that would be enough. Now he was starting to wish he had made Merlin promise to never keep anything from him again. Perhaps if he had, Arthur wouldn't be on his way to confront his servant about a rather uncomfortable accusation.
He walked up the stairs that led to the physician's chambers, staring at the closed door. He decided against knocking (he was the prince. He didn't need to knock) and just quietly pushed the door open. Merlin wasn't in the main room, so he was probably in his own. Arthur took a deep breath and walked in, closing the door just as quietly as he had opened it.
This was ridiculous. There was just no way that Merlin, of all people, would be purposely injuring himself. The warlock was one of the most cheerful people Arthur knew, always smiling and walking around full of energy. Merlin was a good man, willing to do a favor for anyone, always doing the right thing and looking after them all. His servant was happy and content; he was certain of it. Merlin had implied it often enough in his own way, and so there was no reason to worry. He would talk to the warlock anyway and figure out what was going on if only to appease Gwen, but she was wrong about what she had seen. She had to be, because it just wasn't possible. Merlin would never…
He stopped dead halfway across the room, his blood running cold.
There was Merlin standing at the foot of his bed, sleeves rolled up and a knife against his wrist.
