Destiny's a fickle thing, isn't she?
Chapter 1
"Arthur! No!" Merlin cried as he watched the older blonde woman slice at his chest, forgetting he himself was fighting another and ignoring the searing pain and hot wetness coming from his groin. Merlin needn't have thought to push his magic out, knocking all the soldiers out with a hot flash of his eyes and a gust of strong wind. "Please, Arthur. Fight for your life!" Merlin cried as he cradled the man in his arms, his magic calling back the horses that had run away and lifting Arthur gently into the saddle of one.
They rode side by side, one man upright and sweating with exertion and urgency, the other slumped over the neck of his brood, tied by magic to keep him from falling off. When Merlin decided they'd rode far enough away, crossing the border into what he believed to be Nemeth, and finding a small outcropping of rock to protect from the storm, only then did he slow the horses and lift Arthur onto the floor. Only then did he stop to realize the position of the sun in the sky and notice that it had been a couple hours since he began the urgent escape.
"Please, Arthur. Don't die!" Merlin repeated, over and over again as his hands ripped open Arthur's blood-soaked shirt, revealing a single, deep gash with angry red welts across his chest. Using his rudimentary knowledge of healing, Merlin called the saddlebag that contained the medicinal herbs Gaius always packed for them with a single word and got to work, cleaning and stitching the wound closed. Oh, how he wished he knew more healing spells. Or any, for that matter!
He didn't stop until he was sure he'd done all he could to stem the bleeding and ward off infection, not until he began to see spots in his vision from blood loss. He only stopped when he could no longer see clearly and his head spun, falling back and fading into the darkness that overtook him.
When he awoke, it was to find most of his clothes gone, leaving him in a simple, bloody undergarment that stuck to his wound. Soft hands cleaning the blood away. Though his mind was still groggy he could clearly see her brilliant hazel eyes deep in concentration, gently cutting away the cloth that clung to him. Mesmerized as he was by her gaze, he didn't register when she fully removed it from his skin, her cheeks flushing as she gazed upon him in full splendor and her hand ghosting over it in curiosity. Not until he felt the stirrings of arousal did he notice anything other than her eyes, looking at how her chest heaved with shallow breaths and her hands quaked with newfound nerves.
"Who are you?" he breathed out, eyes drawn back to hers as she snatched her bloody hands away and looked at him.