Every step through the mud with a tired horse walking more like a tired mule behind him was in no way fun or soothing for his wired nerves. The oncoming storm flashing under his eyelids leaves spots in his vision making him stumble.
Fallen branches and mud-covered rocks were all the more annoying in his path when he couldn't see. The shadows between trees were more treacherous when he couldn't tell if a bandit was hiding to attack Arthur. His head too focussed on his magic not calling the storm into their path any quicker. His magic is getting pulled in too many directions to focus on any real danger.
His foot catches on another branch when another bolt of lightning that is too far out for the group but too close for his magic blinds him with a blink. The clap of thunder echoing in his heart and chasing his blood. When golden sparks in his vision ('please don't let those be visible to everyone in his eyes') go away and his veins stop singing, he is standing still with Lancelot holding his shoulder.
"Are you okay Merlin?"
Concern flooding the always kind face does more to spike his level of anxiety than anything else. Probably not what Lancelot was going for.
"My eyes, did you see anything?" The whisper is quiet enough that even Lancelot has to lean in to hear properly amidst the wind that has started to pick up.
"No, nothing. Is everything alri-"
"Merlin! If you're done remembering how to walk over or around branches instead of into them, shall we move forward?" The exasperated tone is softened by the smallest of smiles, the silent huff of laughter Arthur tries to mask as a sigh, and the small shake of his shoulders as he fails.
Normally that would be enough. Normally that small smile and quiet laugh would be enough of a reminder that Arthur does care, that this is all just jokes, this is just Arthur pushing his weight around a bit because a King still has to have some distance from his servants. Normally Merlin would have seen the way Arthur had inched closer with each rough trip to make sure he doesn't actually fall, would have seen him bring the group to a stop when Merlin stumbled to a stop himself with Lancelot at his shoulder.
That was all under normal situations though, not for when Merlin was having to blink gold out of his vision again ('and was that Arthur's hair or was that still the spots?') and certainly not for when they were marching towards an artifact that reminded him of some of his worst nightmares.
"Well, dollophead, maybe if you didn't insist on coming on this idiotic quest we wouldn't be wading through mud for the third day in a row. Maybe if you had just let us go back to Camelot that first night in the forest we wouldn't be trying to avoid a lightning storm at a village that we can only hope is close enough for shelter, not to even mention the fact that we're incredibly lucky this storm didn't come while we were stuck in the muddy grounds of the forest the last three days?!"
Merlin is aware that Arthur was wincing and shifting with guilt. Knew that Arthur had stayed up far too long staring up at the skies that had already poured rain from the heavens the entire last week, comparing it to the mud that refused to harden on the ground to weigh the pros and cons of continuing on the hunt for the necklace.
"May I also just point out we are headed towards a village when we aren't even sure if they will have enough rooms let alone stable space for all of us and our horses to shelter us for however long the worst of this storm takes to pass through? But sure Arthur, my tripping over twigs is the great big problem here."
The silence that followed the furious attack of words was highlighted by the guilt flooding Arthur's frown, wind rustling the trees, and a distant rumble of thunder.
"Merlin… are you alright?" Arthur steps forward to lay a hand on Merlin's shoulder and it all becomes too much. He shrugs Lancelot off and drags a complaining horse the best he can to try and push past a confused and guilty king.
Arthur reaches out, lighting flashes close enough that even the knights count the beats between the faint light and distant thunder, and Merlin stumbles. The arm that catches him steadies him before gripping his arm tightly.
The furrow between Arthur's eyebrows are deep and unmoving, his lips near white with how tight he presses them together. Merlin would normally be delighted at the amount of concern he is showing. His nerves are too frayed, the storm too close, and Arthur too easy to blame for this particular adventurer's treasure and its play in destiny.
"We need to move before the storm gets closer. We're ankle-deep in mud."
Merlin jerks free of Arthur and forces his horse forward, and hears Lancelot come next to him.
"Are you alright? Really?" The soft voice does nothing to soothe him today when there has been lightning lighting up his blood for the last however many hours. He forces his way to the front past the still slack-jawed knights who don't know him, past Percival who gets waved away by Lancelot, past Gwain who was at the front and frowning at him.
Lancelot trails behind waiting to catch him if he falls and Merlin is one part grateful and one part annoyed he is stumbling around in the first place. A quick glance and the mud thinned just a bit in front of us. Just to make our way a bit faster, a bit easier. The sound of Arthur talking to the knights behind him chases his footsteps.
