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Merlin - Searching
This is a bit of experiment for me. I've written two fics about the same situation, one from Arthur's perspective and one from Merlin's. It makes the most sense if you read Arthur's view first, and then move on to Merlin's.
Title: Searching
Genre: H/C, Bit of Angst, Gen but subtext if you look for it
Rating: R
Length: ~ 3,800 words
Synopsis: Merlin is missing and Arthur is determined to find him.
Warnings: Fairly graphic aftermath of violence.
Author’s Notes: First in a series, the second part is Finding. Searching is Arthur’s version of the events.
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myth and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur was returning from the training field when he saw it. Hung from the doorway to his room in a way he could not miss it was one of the blasted neckerchiefs Merlin favoured so much. The blue fabric was barely visible through the rusted red of blood.
He gripped it in his fist, noticed it had not grown cold or hardened yet, which meant it was recent. A serving maid was passing by and he grabbed her with his free hand.
“Sire?” she asked, the confusion evident on her face.
“Have you seen Merlin?” he demanded. His voice shook and he willed it to steady.
“No, sire,” she replied, shaking a head of curls. “Not since this morning in the kitchens. I believed he was to fetch your breakfast.”
Arthur remembered. Merlin had delivered the tray and snuck morsels off as they talked. Considering he had brought enough for two, Arthur had not truly minded. Merlin had then helped him into his gear and sent him on his way while he supposedly stayed to clean. Arthur had not seen him since.
“Tell the Master at Arms to meet me at Gaius’ quarters,” he ordered.
“Of course, sire,” she curtsied. Before she left, she paused and asked, “Is there something wrong, sire?”
Arthur crumpled the cloth a bit tighter in his fist. “I truly hope not,” he replied.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I have not seen him since this morning,” Gaius insisted. It was the answer Arthur had been expecting, but that did not mean he liked it any more because of it. “Has something happened?”
“That’s my fear,” Arthur sighed.
He spread out the cloth for Gaius to see, watched as the old man fingered the bloodstains and paled. “Oh dear,” the older man whispered.
The Master at Arms appeared in the doorway momentarily, three of his men behind him. “Sire?” he asked with the standard reverential bow. It was a sign of Merlin’s influence that he noticed it more when it happened than when it did not these days.
“Search the castle and the grounds, I want Merlin and any trace of what may have happened to him found,” he ordered.
“And if we find him?” the man asked. Arthur noticed two of his men exchanging wry smiles and mouthing guesses as to what Merlin had done this time.
“Hopefully get an answer out of him,” he replied. “It is likely he is injured or taken against his will; use caution and bring him straight here if found.”
The smirks disappeared, replaced with obedience and a trace of worry. “Yes, sire,” the four men replied. Another set of nods, and they disappeared back into the corridor.
“Here?” Gaius asked. His fingers twitched in the fabric again and he brought them to his lap to still them.
“I fear the source of the blood is Merlin himself,” Arthur replied honestly. He picked up the stained cloth and tucked it to his belt. “If so, doubtless your services will be necessary. If not, we have someone else who may need you.”
Gaius straightened a bit at that. “I’ll be ready,” he assured him.
Arthur rested a hand on his shoulder, though he was not certain if he was giving comfort or seeking it. “We’ll find him,” he promised. He waited for Gaius’ nod, using that to steady himself. Before he left, he called, “If he does happen his way back here, please keep him here and send for me. If he does not need your services, he will by the time I am done with him.”
Gaius smiled, but there was no humour to his eyes. “I may well challenge you to that right,” Arthur heard him say as he walked out the door.
~~~~~~~~~~
Six hours later, and they were no closer to finding his wayward manservant. His father had been doubtful that there was a true need to even look, citing Merlin’s oft times odd behaviour, but changed his mind when a broken grate and bits of rope were found near the dungeons.
Arthur cursed again as another guard came to report yet another part of the castle clear of any sign of intrusion or escape. He shifted uncomfortably in his armour, the sweat from his earlier practice having dried and now making him itchy in odd places. If he was honest with himself, the gambeson and extra weight were the least of his worries; they simply gave him something to focus on other than the thought of Merlin left bleeding somewhere for him to find.
“I checked the village and none of our usual merchants have seen him,” Gwen reported. She twisted her fingers in her hands, tension as palpable as his own. “They will keep an eye out for him and alert the castle should they find him.”
He nodded, even though he still intended to send his own men out on a search. It was not the merchants they favoured he was worried about.
“Save for fetching your breakfast, none of the kitchen staff have seen him either,” Morgana told him. “I even checked with the seamstresses and laundresses on the off chance he wandered down there, but they last saw him with the weekly wash yesterday.”
Arthur scrubbed a hand across his face and resisted the urge to curse again. He had to be somewhere; it was as simple as that. And if he was somewhere, there must be some sign he went there. His logic was weak, but he was sticking to it at this point.
“Sire,” Gwen bade, laying a hand upon his arm. “The guard continue to search and the staff will as well. Go rest for a moment, and I shall bring you dinner. I can even help remove your armour if you desire.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Morgana. “We both know you have not eaten, just as we know you have not washed since the practice field,” she pointed out. She wrinkled her nose as if in disgust, though he knew she had seen him worse than this. “At least get the worst of it off of you and some food in you so we can stand to be in your presence.”
He rolled his eyes, seeing through her rouse but thanking her for it all the same. “Very well,” he sighed. His stomach chose that moment to growl, and he earned matching looks for its efforts. He gave them a corresponding look of his own, but with enough of a wry smile to let them know he conceded the point.
Gwen left to fetch a plate of food and Morgana walked with him to his room. “We will find him,” she promised as he reached for the door.
He was not sure if he was going to nod or simply sigh again, but a noise from within caught his attention. “Did you hear...?”
She paused, head cocked to the side. “Please tell me you thought to check your own rooms,” she commented with dry exasperation. She pushed passed him and threw the door open.
What happened next was a blur of movement and sound. Arthur heard a ragged cry even as he took in Merlin’s battered form. There was a click of something that sounded suspiciously like a crossbow and the whiz of arrows as they flew by. He grabbed Morgana and threw her to the ground, shielding her with his own body. There was another click and another volley of arrows. He ducked down instinctively, shielding his head and felt more than one glance off his vambrace.
When he looked up again, Merlin was struggling against the bonds that strung him by his arms from the rafters, shouting through his gag something that sounded like, “Behind you!”
Arthur rose and drew his sword at the same time. He sliced through what he swore was thin air only a moment before, the blade catching halfway through a lightly armoured man. The man stood there frozen for a moment, either in shock or simply caught on the blade. Arthur pulled it through completely and the man crumpled to the ground, the dull echo of a dagger hitting stone behind him.
“Merlin!” he heard Morgana gasp. He turned to see her mindless of the blood edging its way towards her gown as she clamoured to her feet, nearly tripping over the fabric in her rush to check on the bound man.
Finally, he took in the sight of Merlin himself. His arms were pulled above him at what must have been a truly painful angle, his fingertips white against the bluish red of his hands. Blood crusted his wrists where the rope had torn them open, tiny rivulets of dried crimson showing harsh against his pale skin. There was an arrow lodged in his right arm, just beneath his shoulder had it been lowered, a fresh stain spreading down his heaving side. Looking further, there was a tear along his thigh where another must have grazed him. Only the very tips of his boots brushed the floor, and he appeared to struggle to stay in place enough not to tear his arms right out of their sockets.
He hated himself for it, but first he demanded, “Are there any more?”
When Merlin shook his head frantically, Arthur dropped his sword and pulled the knife out of his belt. He handed it to Morgana with a terse, “Cut him down.”
“But...” she started.
He cut her off. “Unless you want to support him wholly and bloody your frock even further, cut him down now,” he said by way of explanation. He reached around and pulled Merlin up and to him, taking the worst of the strain off his arms. The sigh of appreciation he received for his efforts made him try to hitch the trembling body up higher, give him some slack to work with. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
Morgana worked quickly, slicing through first the tether, and then the bindings of the wrists themselves as Arthur took his full weight and lowered him carefully to the ground. The gag was knotted tightly and she cut through that as well. To Merlin’s credit, he barely flinched at the action but, then again, Arthur doubted he would have even felt it had the blade nicked him with all the other injuries he currently saw.
“What did he do to you?” Morgana whispered. She smoothed sweaty fringe back from his brow, revealing a gash along his hairline.
“I fought back,” Merlin replied, voice harsh and gravelly. Arthur swore he noted a hint of pride to the tone.
“Of course you did,” he said, never doubting it. He did doubt the injuries would have been quite as severe if he had not, however.
“What did he want with you?” Morgana asked next. She folded a cloth from the table and pressed it next to the arrow, stemming the flow of blood, earning a grunt in response.
“Didn’t want me,” Merlin said when he caught his breath again. “Wanted Arthur.”
Arthur glanced around at the chaos that was his room. Chairs were overturned and random objects were in disarray. Most notably was the sheer number of weapons that were removed from their places, mixed in with the debris on the floor and table. “Dead, I assume?” he guessed.
Merlin nodded. The simple action looked excruciating. “Tried to set off as many of the traps as I could,” he muttered, making very little sense as far as Arthur was concerned. He looked around again, this time finding blades embedded in walls and another volley of arrows on the floor near the window that he knew he himself had not set off.
It was clear unconsciousness approached, and Arthur did not have the heart to keep him in this pain for any longer than necessary if he could help it. There was one question he needed to ask though, for himself if for nothing else. “Were you here the whole time?” he whispered. He could picture Merlin, hanging, hearing all the commotion outside and not being able to do a damned thing about it.
He closed his eyes and released a breath when Merlin shook his head. “Sorcerer,” he breathed. Arthur’s eyes flew open of their own accord. He looked to the crumpled body, but it was not moving; the man seemed good and truly dead. Then again, perhaps being sliced in two was enough even to kill a warlock. “Went somewhere and came back. Not sure exactly where; knocked me around right good first,” Merlin explained.
Arthur took in the obvious injuries, placed silent bets on those not so visible. He would have questioned what made Merlin think he could take on a sorcerer, but thought he might have received a more reasonable answer from Morgana’s favourite mare.
He was about to reassure him, and possibly himself, that things were going to be okay, when a loud crash came from the doorway. He grabbed the blade from where it lay at Morgana’s side, whipping around to face the newest threat.
Instead, he found Gwen, hand to her mouth and tray of food at her feet. “Oh, my...” she started, taking a hesitant step forward. Her other hand drifted upward, almost of its own accord, and he realized she was reaching for them, or possibly just Merlin in particular. “Is he...?”
Arthur traced her gaze to where Merlin lay, eyes drifted shut and breathing incredibly shallow. He lowered the blade and rested a hand on Merlin’s chest, felt his heart beat strongly, if a bit fast. “No,” he promised. “He’s alive, but he needs Gaius.”
She sighed with relief and he could see the beginnings of what looked to be tears in her eyes. She steadied herself against the wall for a moment, taking deep gulping breaths. Her hand brushed against one of the arrows embedded in the door and her eyes grew even wider. She looked up, taking in the devastation of the room and likely seeing things he had missed from where he crouched with the injured man.
“Gwen?” Morgana tried. Her voice was gentle, yet insistent, something Arthur did not know if he would be capable of at this point.
That seemed to shake her back to reality. She took one more steadying breath and righted herself, looking ready to face down a sorcerer of her own if need be. “I will fetch Gaius,” she promised. She spared a glance at the body at her feet and added, “And the guard as well.” She did not bother with a nod or curtsey, but instead took off down the hallway running, soft shoes echoing in her retreat.
Morgana stayed at his side, keeping pressure on the wound, though she refused to pull the arrow out without Gaius’ supervision. They broke off as much of the bolt as they dared, repositioning Merlin’s arm to something that at least looked more comfortable. She whispered all sorts of inane things to the now thoroughly unconscious young man, occasionally glancing up and daring Arthur to say something about it.
He did not. He listened instead, let her words reassure him as much as Merlin, looked over his body for any other obvious injuries that he could help treat and shot dark looks to the dead man, almost hoping he would rise so he could kill him again.
Gaius arrived at the same time as the guards. He took one look at the sorcerer’s body, made a face, and continued on to Merlin, leaving the other man to hands less gentle than his own. Arthur gave a terse report of what he knew, wanted to stay and watch and maybe even offer aide like Morgana, but knew his station did not allow it. He stood, slowly, letting his muscles stretch and pull now that the rush of an actual emergency was gone, and walked to his guards, forced himself into the mask of their leader once more.
The man was searched, weapons and odd objects Arthur did not bother to try to understand were found hidden away in pockets and pouches. He found no cause though, no reason for an attack against himself and definitely none against his servant. There was a single piece of jewellery that he swore looked familiar, but he dropped it back into a pouch when he heard Merlin mutter and Gaius chide him for his efforts.
The weapons were taken by the guard and the objects left for Gaius to unravel at a later date. He dutifully reported to his father, ordered the grate repaired and guarded for the near future, ordered the body burned and the ashes buried, and finally returned to his room, only to discover he was not to be allowed entrance.
“Why?” he demanded again. “I am the prince and these are my quarters, under whose authority do you deny me my right?”
“The Lady Morgana’s,” Sir Ewain replied. Really, he should have expected as much as it was an actual knight and not a simple guard who could be cowed by him. There were times when even he had done a simple task rather than face her wrath.
“And the reason given?” he sighed. He did not bother to point out he outranked her, nor did he try to fight it.
Ewain’s features softened somewhat, most likely from the knowledge he was not going to get in trouble for this. “Another trap was set off while your servant Merlin was being treated. Until your quarters are thoroughly searched and cleared, you are to use the guest quarters last used by Lady Elaran.”
Arthur respected her wishes, even as he knew she was most likely having his father make it an official order as he stood there. “Was anyone else injured?” he asked instead.
Ewain shook his head. “Very nearly so, but it just missed them all.”
Arthur nodded, finding no small relief in the knowledge. “Very well,” he conceded. He left for the guest wing, silently hoping the room no longer reeked of the blasted perfume Elaran had preferred.
He found a bath prepared and Gwen standing ready to remove his armour. A meal had been prepared and laid out on the table, and she handed him a plate of savoury meats to start in on as she methodically removed each piece and lined it along the wall. As she worked, she updated him as to Merlin’s condition and location, and he nearly slumped with relief to find he was doing better than expected and was asleep in his own quarters with Gaius standing watch and a guard posted at the door. She left him in his sweaty clothing, as was proper, and promised to send someone for the armour shortly.
He stripped down completely, made a face at some of the herbs left floating in the water as he knew their uses, and filled his plate once more. He took it and a goblet of mulled wine with him and sank into the blessedly warm water, feeling the tension of the day finally begin to lessen. He soaked and ate and listened as a knight was stationed outside his door, as likely to keep him in as to keep marauders out.
Belly full and herbs and wine working against him, he slipped into the night clothes left out for him and gave in to sleep.
He awoke in the morning to find his armour gone, fresh clothing laid out, and a tray of breakfast upon the table. Tucked in amongst the fruit and breads was a note in Morgana’s flowing handwriting that Merlin was awake and asking for him.
He ate and dressed quickly, not at all surprised when the knight stationed at his door locked it behind him and followed him, motioning to a guard in the hallway to keep watch. He found a similar set up outside of Gaius’ rooms, though there was no challenge to his entrance. He walked through the healer’s workroom straight to the tiny accommodations off the side. Gaius greeted him and offered him his chair, giving a full report before leaving and closing the door behind him. Then and only then, did Arthur allow himself to shake.
“Arthur?” a groggy and not at all well voice called to him. He looked over to see tiny slivers of blue trying to focus his way. Slightly stronger, and with a hint of grin to the tone, was a much surer, “Arthur.”
He willed his voice steady and told him, “Gaius assures me you are doing well.”
Merlin huffed out a laugh, a gravelly, gravely thing. “Like you listened to a thing he said.”
Arthur spared a smile at that. “I’m fairly certain he said the words ‘well’ and ‘healing nicely’ somewhere in there,” he admitted. He leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “So, how are you doing anyway?”
Merlin shifted, a process that looked far more arduous and painful than necessary. He hefted his arm up above the blankets, revealing a thick bandage from roughly his shoulder to his elbow. Arthur noticed matching wraps around his wrists, one already flecked with the red-brown of seeping blood, but wisely did not comment. “Gaius got the arrow out,” Merlin advised with a wince. He let his arm flop back down and his head press into the pillow a bit more. “Those things hurt,” he complained.
Arthur nodded. “Yes, they do,” he agreed from personal experience.
“He also gave me something for the pain, but I think it just makes me sleepy,” Merlin yawned.
Arthur remembered all the tinctures and mixtures Gaius had given him over the years, and the explanation of something he called a “healing sleep” and how important it was. “Maybe you need it,” he shrugged.
“Probably,” Merlin agreed. His eyes were drifting close again and it was clear he would not be conscious for long. “Did they get them all?” he asked beneath closed lids.
Thinking of the traps and how they nearly took out Merlin, nearly took out Morgana and himself, Arthur advised, “They won’t let me check for myself, but they are looking.”
“Good,” Merlin nodded.
Arthur watched as his injured friend’s breathing evened out, stayed to make sure the gentle rise and fall of his chest remained steady. He could see more bandages beneath the blankets and knew he would discover every injury in time, but was content to know that, for now at least, all was on its way to being well.
He took the crumpled neckerchief from his coat pocket, did not question why Gwen left it behind when she took all of the other soiled clothing. He held it in his hand, felt the stiffness of the fabric fight the action before relenting to his whim. Leaning back in his chair once more, he whispered, “Good.”
~~~~~~~~~~
On to Finding (Merlin's POV)
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Searching
Genre: H/C, Bit of Angst, Gen but subtext if you look for it
Rating: R
Length: ~ 3,800 words
Synopsis: Merlin is missing and Arthur is determined to find him.
Warnings: Fairly graphic aftermath of violence.
Author’s Notes: First in a series, the second part is Finding. Searching is Arthur’s version of the events.
Disclaimer: I do not own this particular interpretation of the myth and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur was returning from the training field when he saw it. Hung from the doorway to his room in a way he could not miss it was one of the blasted neckerchiefs Merlin favoured so much. The blue fabric was barely visible through the rusted red of blood.
He gripped it in his fist, noticed it had not grown cold or hardened yet, which meant it was recent. A serving maid was passing by and he grabbed her with his free hand.
“Sire?” she asked, the confusion evident on her face.
“Have you seen Merlin?” he demanded. His voice shook and he willed it to steady.
“No, sire,” she replied, shaking a head of curls. “Not since this morning in the kitchens. I believed he was to fetch your breakfast.”
Arthur remembered. Merlin had delivered the tray and snuck morsels off as they talked. Considering he had brought enough for two, Arthur had not truly minded. Merlin had then helped him into his gear and sent him on his way while he supposedly stayed to clean. Arthur had not seen him since.
“Tell the Master at Arms to meet me at Gaius’ quarters,” he ordered.
“Of course, sire,” she curtsied. Before she left, she paused and asked, “Is there something wrong, sire?”
Arthur crumpled the cloth a bit tighter in his fist. “I truly hope not,” he replied.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I have not seen him since this morning,” Gaius insisted. It was the answer Arthur had been expecting, but that did not mean he liked it any more because of it. “Has something happened?”
“That’s my fear,” Arthur sighed.
He spread out the cloth for Gaius to see, watched as the old man fingered the bloodstains and paled. “Oh dear,” the older man whispered.
The Master at Arms appeared in the doorway momentarily, three of his men behind him. “Sire?” he asked with the standard reverential bow. It was a sign of Merlin’s influence that he noticed it more when it happened than when it did not these days.
“Search the castle and the grounds, I want Merlin and any trace of what may have happened to him found,” he ordered.
“And if we find him?” the man asked. Arthur noticed two of his men exchanging wry smiles and mouthing guesses as to what Merlin had done this time.
“Hopefully get an answer out of him,” he replied. “It is likely he is injured or taken against his will; use caution and bring him straight here if found.”
The smirks disappeared, replaced with obedience and a trace of worry. “Yes, sire,” the four men replied. Another set of nods, and they disappeared back into the corridor.
“Here?” Gaius asked. His fingers twitched in the fabric again and he brought them to his lap to still them.
“I fear the source of the blood is Merlin himself,” Arthur replied honestly. He picked up the stained cloth and tucked it to his belt. “If so, doubtless your services will be necessary. If not, we have someone else who may need you.”
Gaius straightened a bit at that. “I’ll be ready,” he assured him.
Arthur rested a hand on his shoulder, though he was not certain if he was giving comfort or seeking it. “We’ll find him,” he promised. He waited for Gaius’ nod, using that to steady himself. Before he left, he called, “If he does happen his way back here, please keep him here and send for me. If he does not need your services, he will by the time I am done with him.”
Gaius smiled, but there was no humour to his eyes. “I may well challenge you to that right,” Arthur heard him say as he walked out the door.
~~~~~~~~~~
Six hours later, and they were no closer to finding his wayward manservant. His father had been doubtful that there was a true need to even look, citing Merlin’s oft times odd behaviour, but changed his mind when a broken grate and bits of rope were found near the dungeons.
Arthur cursed again as another guard came to report yet another part of the castle clear of any sign of intrusion or escape. He shifted uncomfortably in his armour, the sweat from his earlier practice having dried and now making him itchy in odd places. If he was honest with himself, the gambeson and extra weight were the least of his worries; they simply gave him something to focus on other than the thought of Merlin left bleeding somewhere for him to find.
“I checked the village and none of our usual merchants have seen him,” Gwen reported. She twisted her fingers in her hands, tension as palpable as his own. “They will keep an eye out for him and alert the castle should they find him.”
He nodded, even though he still intended to send his own men out on a search. It was not the merchants they favoured he was worried about.
“Save for fetching your breakfast, none of the kitchen staff have seen him either,” Morgana told him. “I even checked with the seamstresses and laundresses on the off chance he wandered down there, but they last saw him with the weekly wash yesterday.”
Arthur scrubbed a hand across his face and resisted the urge to curse again. He had to be somewhere; it was as simple as that. And if he was somewhere, there must be some sign he went there. His logic was weak, but he was sticking to it at this point.
“Sire,” Gwen bade, laying a hand upon his arm. “The guard continue to search and the staff will as well. Go rest for a moment, and I shall bring you dinner. I can even help remove your armour if you desire.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Morgana. “We both know you have not eaten, just as we know you have not washed since the practice field,” she pointed out. She wrinkled her nose as if in disgust, though he knew she had seen him worse than this. “At least get the worst of it off of you and some food in you so we can stand to be in your presence.”
He rolled his eyes, seeing through her rouse but thanking her for it all the same. “Very well,” he sighed. His stomach chose that moment to growl, and he earned matching looks for its efforts. He gave them a corresponding look of his own, but with enough of a wry smile to let them know he conceded the point.
Gwen left to fetch a plate of food and Morgana walked with him to his room. “We will find him,” she promised as he reached for the door.
He was not sure if he was going to nod or simply sigh again, but a noise from within caught his attention. “Did you hear...?”
She paused, head cocked to the side. “Please tell me you thought to check your own rooms,” she commented with dry exasperation. She pushed passed him and threw the door open.
What happened next was a blur of movement and sound. Arthur heard a ragged cry even as he took in Merlin’s battered form. There was a click of something that sounded suspiciously like a crossbow and the whiz of arrows as they flew by. He grabbed Morgana and threw her to the ground, shielding her with his own body. There was another click and another volley of arrows. He ducked down instinctively, shielding his head and felt more than one glance off his vambrace.
When he looked up again, Merlin was struggling against the bonds that strung him by his arms from the rafters, shouting through his gag something that sounded like, “Behind you!”
Arthur rose and drew his sword at the same time. He sliced through what he swore was thin air only a moment before, the blade catching halfway through a lightly armoured man. The man stood there frozen for a moment, either in shock or simply caught on the blade. Arthur pulled it through completely and the man crumpled to the ground, the dull echo of a dagger hitting stone behind him.
“Merlin!” he heard Morgana gasp. He turned to see her mindless of the blood edging its way towards her gown as she clamoured to her feet, nearly tripping over the fabric in her rush to check on the bound man.
Finally, he took in the sight of Merlin himself. His arms were pulled above him at what must have been a truly painful angle, his fingertips white against the bluish red of his hands. Blood crusted his wrists where the rope had torn them open, tiny rivulets of dried crimson showing harsh against his pale skin. There was an arrow lodged in his right arm, just beneath his shoulder had it been lowered, a fresh stain spreading down his heaving side. Looking further, there was a tear along his thigh where another must have grazed him. Only the very tips of his boots brushed the floor, and he appeared to struggle to stay in place enough not to tear his arms right out of their sockets.
He hated himself for it, but first he demanded, “Are there any more?”
When Merlin shook his head frantically, Arthur dropped his sword and pulled the knife out of his belt. He handed it to Morgana with a terse, “Cut him down.”
“But...” she started.
He cut her off. “Unless you want to support him wholly and bloody your frock even further, cut him down now,” he said by way of explanation. He reached around and pulled Merlin up and to him, taking the worst of the strain off his arms. The sigh of appreciation he received for his efforts made him try to hitch the trembling body up higher, give him some slack to work with. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
Morgana worked quickly, slicing through first the tether, and then the bindings of the wrists themselves as Arthur took his full weight and lowered him carefully to the ground. The gag was knotted tightly and she cut through that as well. To Merlin’s credit, he barely flinched at the action but, then again, Arthur doubted he would have even felt it had the blade nicked him with all the other injuries he currently saw.
“What did he do to you?” Morgana whispered. She smoothed sweaty fringe back from his brow, revealing a gash along his hairline.
“I fought back,” Merlin replied, voice harsh and gravelly. Arthur swore he noted a hint of pride to the tone.
“Of course you did,” he said, never doubting it. He did doubt the injuries would have been quite as severe if he had not, however.
“What did he want with you?” Morgana asked next. She folded a cloth from the table and pressed it next to the arrow, stemming the flow of blood, earning a grunt in response.
“Didn’t want me,” Merlin said when he caught his breath again. “Wanted Arthur.”
Arthur glanced around at the chaos that was his room. Chairs were overturned and random objects were in disarray. Most notably was the sheer number of weapons that were removed from their places, mixed in with the debris on the floor and table. “Dead, I assume?” he guessed.
Merlin nodded. The simple action looked excruciating. “Tried to set off as many of the traps as I could,” he muttered, making very little sense as far as Arthur was concerned. He looked around again, this time finding blades embedded in walls and another volley of arrows on the floor near the window that he knew he himself had not set off.
It was clear unconsciousness approached, and Arthur did not have the heart to keep him in this pain for any longer than necessary if he could help it. There was one question he needed to ask though, for himself if for nothing else. “Were you here the whole time?” he whispered. He could picture Merlin, hanging, hearing all the commotion outside and not being able to do a damned thing about it.
He closed his eyes and released a breath when Merlin shook his head. “Sorcerer,” he breathed. Arthur’s eyes flew open of their own accord. He looked to the crumpled body, but it was not moving; the man seemed good and truly dead. Then again, perhaps being sliced in two was enough even to kill a warlock. “Went somewhere and came back. Not sure exactly where; knocked me around right good first,” Merlin explained.
Arthur took in the obvious injuries, placed silent bets on those not so visible. He would have questioned what made Merlin think he could take on a sorcerer, but thought he might have received a more reasonable answer from Morgana’s favourite mare.
He was about to reassure him, and possibly himself, that things were going to be okay, when a loud crash came from the doorway. He grabbed the blade from where it lay at Morgana’s side, whipping around to face the newest threat.
Instead, he found Gwen, hand to her mouth and tray of food at her feet. “Oh, my...” she started, taking a hesitant step forward. Her other hand drifted upward, almost of its own accord, and he realized she was reaching for them, or possibly just Merlin in particular. “Is he...?”
Arthur traced her gaze to where Merlin lay, eyes drifted shut and breathing incredibly shallow. He lowered the blade and rested a hand on Merlin’s chest, felt his heart beat strongly, if a bit fast. “No,” he promised. “He’s alive, but he needs Gaius.”
She sighed with relief and he could see the beginnings of what looked to be tears in her eyes. She steadied herself against the wall for a moment, taking deep gulping breaths. Her hand brushed against one of the arrows embedded in the door and her eyes grew even wider. She looked up, taking in the devastation of the room and likely seeing things he had missed from where he crouched with the injured man.
“Gwen?” Morgana tried. Her voice was gentle, yet insistent, something Arthur did not know if he would be capable of at this point.
That seemed to shake her back to reality. She took one more steadying breath and righted herself, looking ready to face down a sorcerer of her own if need be. “I will fetch Gaius,” she promised. She spared a glance at the body at her feet and added, “And the guard as well.” She did not bother with a nod or curtsey, but instead took off down the hallway running, soft shoes echoing in her retreat.
Morgana stayed at his side, keeping pressure on the wound, though she refused to pull the arrow out without Gaius’ supervision. They broke off as much of the bolt as they dared, repositioning Merlin’s arm to something that at least looked more comfortable. She whispered all sorts of inane things to the now thoroughly unconscious young man, occasionally glancing up and daring Arthur to say something about it.
He did not. He listened instead, let her words reassure him as much as Merlin, looked over his body for any other obvious injuries that he could help treat and shot dark looks to the dead man, almost hoping he would rise so he could kill him again.
Gaius arrived at the same time as the guards. He took one look at the sorcerer’s body, made a face, and continued on to Merlin, leaving the other man to hands less gentle than his own. Arthur gave a terse report of what he knew, wanted to stay and watch and maybe even offer aide like Morgana, but knew his station did not allow it. He stood, slowly, letting his muscles stretch and pull now that the rush of an actual emergency was gone, and walked to his guards, forced himself into the mask of their leader once more.
The man was searched, weapons and odd objects Arthur did not bother to try to understand were found hidden away in pockets and pouches. He found no cause though, no reason for an attack against himself and definitely none against his servant. There was a single piece of jewellery that he swore looked familiar, but he dropped it back into a pouch when he heard Merlin mutter and Gaius chide him for his efforts.
The weapons were taken by the guard and the objects left for Gaius to unravel at a later date. He dutifully reported to his father, ordered the grate repaired and guarded for the near future, ordered the body burned and the ashes buried, and finally returned to his room, only to discover he was not to be allowed entrance.
“Why?” he demanded again. “I am the prince and these are my quarters, under whose authority do you deny me my right?”
“The Lady Morgana’s,” Sir Ewain replied. Really, he should have expected as much as it was an actual knight and not a simple guard who could be cowed by him. There were times when even he had done a simple task rather than face her wrath.
“And the reason given?” he sighed. He did not bother to point out he outranked her, nor did he try to fight it.
Ewain’s features softened somewhat, most likely from the knowledge he was not going to get in trouble for this. “Another trap was set off while your servant Merlin was being treated. Until your quarters are thoroughly searched and cleared, you are to use the guest quarters last used by Lady Elaran.”
Arthur respected her wishes, even as he knew she was most likely having his father make it an official order as he stood there. “Was anyone else injured?” he asked instead.
Ewain shook his head. “Very nearly so, but it just missed them all.”
Arthur nodded, finding no small relief in the knowledge. “Very well,” he conceded. He left for the guest wing, silently hoping the room no longer reeked of the blasted perfume Elaran had preferred.
He found a bath prepared and Gwen standing ready to remove his armour. A meal had been prepared and laid out on the table, and she handed him a plate of savoury meats to start in on as she methodically removed each piece and lined it along the wall. As she worked, she updated him as to Merlin’s condition and location, and he nearly slumped with relief to find he was doing better than expected and was asleep in his own quarters with Gaius standing watch and a guard posted at the door. She left him in his sweaty clothing, as was proper, and promised to send someone for the armour shortly.
He stripped down completely, made a face at some of the herbs left floating in the water as he knew their uses, and filled his plate once more. He took it and a goblet of mulled wine with him and sank into the blessedly warm water, feeling the tension of the day finally begin to lessen. He soaked and ate and listened as a knight was stationed outside his door, as likely to keep him in as to keep marauders out.
Belly full and herbs and wine working against him, he slipped into the night clothes left out for him and gave in to sleep.
He awoke in the morning to find his armour gone, fresh clothing laid out, and a tray of breakfast upon the table. Tucked in amongst the fruit and breads was a note in Morgana’s flowing handwriting that Merlin was awake and asking for him.
He ate and dressed quickly, not at all surprised when the knight stationed at his door locked it behind him and followed him, motioning to a guard in the hallway to keep watch. He found a similar set up outside of Gaius’ rooms, though there was no challenge to his entrance. He walked through the healer’s workroom straight to the tiny accommodations off the side. Gaius greeted him and offered him his chair, giving a full report before leaving and closing the door behind him. Then and only then, did Arthur allow himself to shake.
“Arthur?” a groggy and not at all well voice called to him. He looked over to see tiny slivers of blue trying to focus his way. Slightly stronger, and with a hint of grin to the tone, was a much surer, “Arthur.”
He willed his voice steady and told him, “Gaius assures me you are doing well.”
Merlin huffed out a laugh, a gravelly, gravely thing. “Like you listened to a thing he said.”
Arthur spared a smile at that. “I’m fairly certain he said the words ‘well’ and ‘healing nicely’ somewhere in there,” he admitted. He leaned forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “So, how are you doing anyway?”
Merlin shifted, a process that looked far more arduous and painful than necessary. He hefted his arm up above the blankets, revealing a thick bandage from roughly his shoulder to his elbow. Arthur noticed matching wraps around his wrists, one already flecked with the red-brown of seeping blood, but wisely did not comment. “Gaius got the arrow out,” Merlin advised with a wince. He let his arm flop back down and his head press into the pillow a bit more. “Those things hurt,” he complained.
Arthur nodded. “Yes, they do,” he agreed from personal experience.
“He also gave me something for the pain, but I think it just makes me sleepy,” Merlin yawned.
Arthur remembered all the tinctures and mixtures Gaius had given him over the years, and the explanation of something he called a “healing sleep” and how important it was. “Maybe you need it,” he shrugged.
“Probably,” Merlin agreed. His eyes were drifting close again and it was clear he would not be conscious for long. “Did they get them all?” he asked beneath closed lids.
Thinking of the traps and how they nearly took out Merlin, nearly took out Morgana and himself, Arthur advised, “They won’t let me check for myself, but they are looking.”
“Good,” Merlin nodded.
Arthur watched as his injured friend’s breathing evened out, stayed to make sure the gentle rise and fall of his chest remained steady. He could see more bandages beneath the blankets and knew he would discover every injury in time, but was content to know that, for now at least, all was on its way to being well.
He took the crumpled neckerchief from his coat pocket, did not question why Gwen left it behind when she took all of the other soiled clothing. He held it in his hand, felt the stiffness of the fabric fight the action before relenting to his whim. Leaning back in his chair once more, he whispered, “Good.”
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On to Finding (Merlin's POV)
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