A/N:
I know, I'm churning them out! I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging for so long. This one is for MerlinandArthurForever! Enjoy – and I do love feed back!
I had the best weekend! Bradley, Eoin, Tom & Rupert were in Australia at our Pop culture expo, Supanova – I dressed as Fem!Merlin and actually got to meet and get a photo with Mr. James (he is such a sweetheart by the way!) Best part was the compliment on my costume
Don't own BBC's Merlin, but I now own a photo of myself & Bradley...It's something! (pic is now my avatar!)
CHARACTERS: Arthur & Merlin
RATED: T
GENRE: Hurt/Comfort & Angst (again)
WHAT IF...S04Ep6 A Servant of Two Masters - Arthur finds Merlin in the woods after they get separated and he is still injured
THE ADVENTURES OF MERLIN
Our Servants Keeper.
Pale moonlight filtered through the forest canopy, lighting a path in the gloom for the King and his injured servant, hobbling across leaf littered ground.
'A nights rest and you'll be polishing my armour.' Arthur began lightly, shifting the youth in his grip. 'It could definitely do with a scrub.'
Merlin groaned as the sudden movement pulled at the wound on his shoulder, but he bit his lip, determined not to vocalise his discomfort further as the young King settled him against a bower and crouched by his side. The raven haired youth tilted his head back and swallowed roughly, his eyes scrunched against the pain.
With deft fingers, Arthur gently peeled Merlin's tunic from the wound, blood sticking to the rough fabric. Trying to keep his features from slipping into the horrified alarm that he felt in his gut, the King examined the lesion closely. Black and purple bruising swept across his upper left torso, and the flesh was torn severely. He could see the white of Merlin's collarbone, splintered and sharp from where the mace impacted solidly. Swallowing the lump of dread in his throat, Arthur readjusted the cloth over the injury and sat back on his heels.
'I've seen worse,' he lied, scrubbing a hand across his face. 'I've definitely seen worse.'
Merlin met his gaze and gave him chuckled darkly. 'On a dead man.'
The King swallowed again, fighting every instinct to gather Merlin up right now and race back to Camelot with the selfless idiot flung over his shoulder, but the mercenaries where still out there, and the servant was in no shape to travel.
'You're not going to die, Merlin. Don't be such a coward.' He said dryly.
The warlock tilted his head, the corner of his lips curling upwards in an attempt at smiling like his shoulder didn't hurt like hell.
'If I do die, will you call me a hero?' He asked.
Of course I would you stupid, bumbling fool! 'Probably,'
Merlin's eyes narrowed. 'But whilst I'm still alive, I'm a coward.'
Never! 'That's the way these things work, I'm afraid.' Arthur said with a shrug. 'You get the glory when you're not around to appreciate it.'
Even though the man was badly injured, Arthur could still see the cheeky glint in his cobalt eyes.
'Well, unless you're the King,' Merlin pointed out, his grin fading to a wince as he pressed his hand against the wound.
'Come on, it's got to have some advantages!'
Merlin met the Kings gaze, his face pale and drawn. 'You have a very good servant.'
There was silence for a moment, then;
'Yeah, you're right. I do. A servant who is extremely brave and incredibly loyal and, to be honest, not at all cowardly.' Arthur said, feeling his heart clench as he spoke, fearing that Merlin was right.
Merlin shifted and his eyes seemed to shimmer for a moment, like he was on the verge of crying.
'Thank you, for saving my life.' He said with a weak smile.
The King's jaw clenched. 'You'd do the same for me.'
The next morning dawned bright and Arthur was still awake. His lids were heavy and he was beyond tired, but he couldn't risk sleeping – not with Merlin in the condition he was in. A twig snapped nearby and heavy footsteps approached, bring with them the sound of angry voices. He turned to Merlin, his heart thumping as he saw the man staring at the sky, struggling to draw breath. His condition had worsened significantly overnight, and Arthur was scared.
He stood quickly and sheathed his sword. 'I'd love to say we could stay here and rest, but in another ten minutes, we'll be mercenary mincemeat,' Arthur explained, bending low to grab Merlin's wrist and haul him over his shoulder.
'Leave me,' Merlin groaned, the movement sending waves of pain across his chest.
Examining the area, Arthur tried to get his bearings. 'Now's not the time for jokes,' he responded, finally recognising the area and the route they would have to take.
'Please leave me,' the youth muttered into his back.
'Sure, whatever you say,'
The King took off down through the woods, stepping carefully over protruding roots and passing around large boulders. The ruins of an old temple surrounded them, and very soon, much to Arthur's panic, so did the mercenaries.
Moving with as much speed as he could, Arthur set the youth down upon the ground, trying to block out the sound of his pained cry and drew his sword – racing towards the men who approached with violence in their eyes.
The young warlock watched on, desperate to do something – because Arthur was kicking their arses, but more and more replaced those that the King felled. Gritting his teeth against the overwhelming pain that threatened to pull him away, he focused on the small vein of power that was pulsating beneath his skin and pulled the strand.
'Gewicad ge stanas,' he murmured, feeling his magic burst from with, leaving him drained as he watched the giant boulders crash down upon their enemies and blocking their path to Arthur.
'MERLIN!' Arthur screamed in panic, shocking the young man. He had never seen the King react like this before.
He so desperately wanted to give in to the darkness that was swarming his vision, but his anger smouldered as he watched a sneering mercenary lean down to grab him.
The warlock reached for that power once again, and without words – he blew the men backwards into the trees. Those who weren't knocked unconscious or killed on impact, jumped to their feet, their determination renewed. Grunting in pain, Merlin dragged himself up, trying to ignore the searing blaze of agony that tore through his shoulder. He had to get away and fast, because he wasn't particularly keen on being the plaything for some mercenary. Roaring, he sent another wave of magic towards the oncoming men, fearing the immense energy drain that came with it.
No! He couldn't give up now!
Taking a shuddering breath, he dashed away from his enemies – not daring to look back as they began to yell. Sweat beaded his brow as he ran, matting his raven locks. Green rushed by, and he realised he was running faster than he ever had before.
The forest was quiet around him, and so far he had managed not to tri-
As that triumphant thought crossed his mind, his foot caught a stone and went sprawling to the dirt, the impact jarring his already painful wound.
Black crowded his vision and the world tilted violently as he screamed.
Panting heavily, he lay on the forest floor, vaguely aware of two things.
One; surely by now there would be dirt in his wound and two; if he stayed where he was, out in the open – he would surely be captured.
Turning his head, he peered into the wild forest that surrounded the trail, and with a grunt, began to drag himself slowly across the ground.
It took time, energy and oh gods! The pain was sickening, frustrating – and as he settled into the dark brush, he cried, praying for Arthur to find him.
Merlin was fading, and fast. He just knew that the wound was dirty. He could feel his brow beginning to burn and nausea roiled in his belly. Rolling over weakly, he retched and the pain heightened.
When the darkness finally came, he welcomed it.
*~*M*~*
Night descended quickly as Arthur raced through the forest, sweat beading his brow as he searched frantically for his friend.
His legs burned with exertion but he urged himself on, the image of Merlin, weak and pained, disappearing behind the wrong side of the rock fall, painted in his mind.
There had been so many mercenaries , that the King had almost given up all faith of ever seeing the young man alive again, until he backtracked his way to the area he last saw Merlin, and finding it strewn with the bodies of those who ambushed them.
He was confused, to say the least, but when Merlin was not among the dead, hope returned to his heart. Eventually, Arthur had come across a set of uneven tracks that led into the trees, and from the pattern of the footprints, he was almost certain they were left by his bumbling manservant.
Stopping for a quick breath and a sip from his water skin, Arthur peered ahead in the gloom, narrowing his eyes when he saw the disturbed patch of dirt before him. It looked like someone had landed heavily on their front and dragged themselves over to…
His eyes widened as they came to rest on a scrap of red material, poking out from the bushes. 'Merlin…' he murmured softly, dropping to all fours and crawling forward. Arthur reached into the greenery and his shaking hand came into contact with an arm that was far too hot to be healthy.
'Shit,' he muttered, clambering to his feet and stepping into the shadows. Sure enough, in the dying light, Merlin laid – eyes closed lightly and cheeks flushed pink with fever.
Please don't die… the King prayed silently, pressing two fingers to his throat. A pulse fluttered weakly beneath the digits and he breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled back Merlin's tunic to check the wound.
Arthur swallowed the lump of dread that stuck in his throat as he examined the injury, which was now covered with dirt, oozing blood and pus.
Still trembling with panic, Arthur unstoppered his water skin and dribbled the cool liquid onto the wound, rinsing the soil and muck away.
'Merlin, if you wanted some time off, you should have said something...' the King muttered as he untied the youth's neck scarf and held it gingerly to the lesion, eliciting a pained hiss from his friend.
Merlin's lids fluttered rapidly, fighting the urge to sleep forever and after a moment, Arthur was greeted by his cobalt gaze, intensity diminished by the haze of pain.
'Ar-tur...' the young man groaned, his breath hitching as his shoulder throbbed.
'There you are, you daft idiot...I was beginning to wonder whether or not I should fire you,' the King responded softly as he pressed his palm to Merlin's brow.
The youth's lips twitched upwards into a semblance of a smile.
'You c-came looking f-for me,' he wheezed, scrunching his face up against the fire in his chest.
Arthur wanted to roll his eyes, to call him an idiot and lock him in the stocks for a month for being such a martyr, but seeing his face contorted into a look of such immense agony, his usual stoic exterior crumbled away.
'Damn it Merlin! Of course I did! You don't think I would just leave you to those bastards, do you?' he asked, almost daring the boy to admit his doubts.
'You s-should have left me...' came the weak reply.
Arthur dutifully ignored those words as he continued to clean. When he pressed down too hard accidentally, drawing a strangled cry from the youth, he looked up and met Merlin's gaze.
'I would never leave you like that,'
'What is the life of a servant compared to that of a King?'
He shook his flaxen mop. 'Don't ever say that...when it comes to you, or any of my friends for that matter – I would do anything.' He looked away suddenly, afraid that the moonlight would catch the tears in his eyes. 'Do you think you could travel?'
Merlin chuckled. 'Does it look like I can?' he asked between laboured breaths.
'Does it look like you have a choice?'
Climbing to his feet, Arthur dusted himself off and secured the water skin at his hip. 'I have to get you to Gaius...1...2...'
On the third count, Arthur wrapped a hand tightly around his wrist and heaved, flinging the young man over his shoulder with as much gentleness as he could manage.
A harsh cry flew from Merlin's lips and Arthur winced. This trip was going to be painful for him.
Upon their return to Camelot, the first to greet the pair was Gwaine.
'How is he, Arthur?' he demanded as he ran down the stone stairs, Gaius and the remaining Knights in tow.
The young King could feel the heat radiating from his pale skin. 'Not good, I'm afraid. He has a high fever,' he responded shakily, catching Gaius's eye.
'I will prepare my chambers,' the old man offered, clamping a hand on Arthur's free shoulder. 'Thank you sire, for going back for him.'
The old man hobbled back into the castle, while Arthur readjusted the semi-conscious man upon his shoulder.
Arthur, carrying Merlin, were followed by the knights all the way to the Physician's chambers – there were groans of treason and plots to murder coming from them when Arthur instructed them to stay at the door.
Seeing that the patient cot was clear, Arthur settled the young man against the pillows and unsheathed his knife to cut Merlin's shire away from the wound.
'How did this injury occur?' Gaius asked, disturbed by the extent of the injury.
'A – a mace...' Merlin grumbled, awareness returning along with the pain.
Arthur turned to the old man.
'Will you be able to fix it?' He asked, eyeing the wound dubiously.
The Physician tutted and examined the damage more closely with his magnifying glass.
'It is a very grievous wound, make no mistake. You must have faith in me as a Physician – and faith in Merlin, because he is a fighter.
Arthur ruffled the youth's raven hair gently.
'Did you hear that Merlin? You have to fight it.'
There was no response from the manservant, but Arthur had a very strong feeling that the young man would fight anything to protect his friends.
The knowledge of this made him smile and squeeze Merlin's hand, watching the lids drop further and further.
'Recover well my friend – will never leave you behind,' Arthur murmured as the secret Warlock once again, slipped into unconsciousness.
'Because I would have to train a decent servant to replace you.'
Hope you guys are still enjoying! The next goes to TeganL74, who has requested Merlin get struck by lightning, which affects his magic, heart and brain. Wait until you've seen what I've done with it!