Whumptober Prompt 22: Do These Tacos Taste Funny to You
Poisoned

A/N: Set after the (AU) ending everyone wanted to see, where Arthur learned about Merlin's magic, lived, and Camelot was given a far longer golden age. Also, I'm going to see if I can make this story a bit lighter; I think we all could use that by now!

Merlin had two problems, and he was currently ignoring one of them.

The main problem was Arthur. Not the usual Arthur's-being-a-prat problem, but the only-slightly-less-usual problem where someone's-trying-to-kill-Arthur. Again. That was the problem Merlin focused on.

The problem he was ignoring was the poison burning a hole in his own stomach.

It's a small hole, he told himself as he hurried towards the stables. And it wasn't getting bigger all that quickly.

Arthur's killers were a much bigger problem. For once they weren't magic users seeking to get revenge; no, the amount of those had died down (without actually dying) once magic became legal, and Merlin had supposed, with a sigh of relief, that keeping Arthur alive would be much easier.

(Don't even get him started on the difficulty of Camlann, when Arthur found out about Merlin's magic. That wound had taken every bit of knowledge of both Merlin and every friend he had ever made, and Arthur still scowled when he remembered the fuss everyone had raised.)

And it was easier. In part. After all, non-magical assassins were much easier to stop than magical ones. And Arthur wasn't exactly a slouch with a sword.

But the neighboring kingdoms sending them seemed to be catching on to that fact, and they sent fifteen hulking soldiers to kill the king, and a very pretty girl to poison the king's wizard.

Or so the pretty girl had said, after Merlin had drunk the poison and hulking soldier number one grabbed him from behind. Merlin had not been happy with the soldier's whispered threat against the king, said into the ear of the (they thought) dying magician. His magic made short work of the soldier, and sent the girl cringing to her knees while Merlin's eyes burned gold and he healed the damage the poison had done. He'd bound her with live snakes, and, weeping (and quite ugly as a result), she'd told him the others were waiting for Arthur by the stables. So off to the stables Merlin was running.

Down the tower steps, down, down, down and around, and he was halfway when the burn of the poison grew too strong. He clutched the wall, eyes closed as he tried to breathe, and summoned his magic again.

By the time this day finished he'd have an entirely new stomach.

Perhaps it wasn't such a small hole. But there wasn't any hole anymore, and that would tie him over long enough to reach the castle door.

He opened his eyes and began running again, dogging around Sir Percival, stumbling to a stop, grabbing his arm and yelling, "Follow me!" and off they raced again.

The nice thing about having an official title like "Court Wizard" (he and Arthur had argued over "Court" or "King," but Merlin refused to be Arthur's manservant and his magician, and so "Court" it was), Merlin thought while panting, was it tended to make people follow his instructions without asking questions. At least when he yelled them while running at fast paces; they tended to think he actually had good reasons now.

Ugh, his stomach. He didn't have time to have Gaius make the antidote! He accidentally slammed into the door—the pain made it hard to concentrate—and braced himself on it, breathing in. His eyes turned gold again, and Gwaine's questions (he'd seen the running and joined in half-hoping for a game of catch-my-friend) stopped abruptly.

"Merlin? Are you all right? You look like something's the matter with your stomach." That was Gwen's gentle voice, but as his eyes cleared he shook his head at her and reached for the door. Sir Percival reached around him and opened it with one hand.

"Stay with Gwen," Merlin panted at him, and he was off again. Gwaine followed. Merlin knew he would, and Gwaine had his sword out, which was brilliant, because they might need it. Fourteen hulking soldiers left, who sends that many?

The stable, just ahead! Merlin traded a glance with Gwaine, both of them slowing to listen.

"Are we pranking the Princess?" Gwaine whispered.

"Not this time. Someone sent a great lot of soldiers to kill him."

Gwaine stiffened, listening warily to the stable. There were a few scuffing hooves and horses snorting, but no sound of fighting, and he relaxed a bit. "Are we joining them or beating them?"

Half of Merlin wanted to laugh and ask what Arthur had done to annoy Gwaine on this particular day; the other half was still listening intently, because if Arthur wasn't here, than where was he? And was he safe?

The very small part of him that both halves left was noticing how much his stomach hurt again. Merlin sighed, letting his eyes go gold, and put his stomach back together again.

"So, mate, are we just going to sit here and wait?" Gwaine asked, gesturing to the stable with his still unsheathed sword. Merlin shook his head, and together they slammed the doors inward.

There were bodies (most still breathing) laying in every conceivable position, and leaning against one wall, sword and shield a bit red, but his face redder still with exertion, was Arthur.

"A bit late, aren't you?" he snipped at the two, not bothering to push himself off the wall. Merlin didn't answer, being too busy counting. Twelve bodies, where were—maybe the poisoner had lied? Ugh, his stomach! But she'd been so scared, and why would she say there were more—oh, there was a body, hiding behind that hay! Something was really burning inside him now, not just his stomach, the poison probably spread, but he was almost done. He recounted, including the one behind the hay. Thirteen—where was the last?

A shadow moved on the wall near Arthur, and Merlin looked up to see the last (and quite little) soldier perched on the top of the stall, ready to jump down.

"Arthur, look out!" he shouted, throwing out a hand, muttering, and pushing. The last soldier fell off the wooden half-wall with a thump, and Arthur plunged his sword down without bothering to look too hard.

"Well, perhaps you're not completely useless," he said to Merlin. "Gwaine, on the other hand…"

"Hey, I made sure he got here!" Gwaine protested, and Merlin smiled. The problem was over. Arthur had taken care of most of it himself.

Wasn't there another problem?

It was hard to remember over the burning. He sat down on the hay himself quite suddenly, sure all the running had tired him out.

"Merlin, now is not the time to laze around—why are your eyes glowing?"

"He's been doing that all the way down here, I think something's wrong."

"Merlin?" Merlin blinked and looked up. Arthur was there.

Arthur was a problem. But Merlin was too tired to deal with him, and closed his eyes. If he pretended to sleep, maybe Arthur would stop being a problem.

"Get Gaius!" Something hard hit Merlin's cheek, and he opened his eyes again. So much for Arthur not being a problem, he was hitting Merlin. "Merlin, what's wrong? Did someone stab you?"

Oh, the pretty girl. She was the second problem. "Not stabbed," he objected confusedly. "Too small for that. Poisoned. You don't have to be big to poison someone."

"I'm here, Sire, what—Merlin?" Merlin felt a cool hand on his forehead, and heard Arthur explaining that Merlin was poisoned. Merlin closed his eyes. It was a boring explanation. Gwaine left at a run, calling he'd get the cup, and Gaius kept insisting Merlin do something with his magic.

"Can't," Merlin objected. "Arthur's here. I'll get punished."

"Merlin, you addled idiot, I made magic legal. Now heal."

Well, if Arthur said to, he wouldn't let Merlin rest till he did. Merlin summoned his magic, sending it through his body with the muttered order to heal. A few seconds later he felt much better, and opened his eyes again.

Arthur (still with a very red face) and Gaius were standing over him, staring at him. He sat upright, and Arthur sighed.

"That's all it took?"

"No, Sire, I still have to give him the antidote, or the poison will continue working," Gaius explained in a respectful voice. Arthur turned to a better victim.

"Merlin, what were you thinking, running around with poison in you?"

"I was thinking you had fourteen men after you, and might need some help."

"I had it handled."

"Except for that last one."

"I would have seen him."

Merlin opened his mouth to argue that, but was interrupted by Gwaine bringing the pretty girl's cup, which Merlin had dropped on the floor. Gaius sniffed it.

"That should be quite simple to fix. Come along, Merlin, we'll get this sorted in no time." Arthur pulled Merlin to his feet, steadying him when the manservant-magician-poisoned victim stumbled.

"I'd better come along to make sure you keep healing."

"And I'll come because it's better than staying to clean up the prisoners," Gwaine put in, and Merlin smiled.

Poisoned or not, he had some very good friends.

And he wouldn't stay poisoned for very long.

It was just a small problem.