Discover Top Posts Tagged with #please do well

Feb 16, 2023

I'll Weather Any Blow

When soulmates can feel each other's pain, it takes Arthur a shockingly long to figure out Merlin is the one sharing with him. Yet as Arthur keeps getting increasingly worse injuries, he's left to wonder what the hell Merlin is actually doing!

on AO3

[canon typical violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, canonical character death, spoilers for season one]

Ships: Merlin/Arthur (could be romantic or platonic) and mentioned Gwen/Lancelot

Ever since Arthur learned about soulmates, he was fairly certain he didn’t have one.

See, most kids his age would always talk about feeling bumps on their knees when they were sitting still or hitting their elbows when not moving, but Arthur, he never got that. He just got his own constant aches and pains from being practically born in armour.

As soon as he was able to walk around on his own, he had a sword in his hand. The prince couldn’t remember a time before training was in his schedule.

As the young boy got older, he realised that perhaps, he just couldn’t feel a soulmate through his own permanent discomfort and that even if he does feel anything, he’d probably thought it was his own from training earlier.

Yet as he grew into an adult, any thoughts of soulmates were pushed far from his mind. Arthur had far more important matters to take care of.

Like currently, this idiot who thought it was smart to question what he did with his servants.

The boy, Merlin, appeared about his age, but stick thin. Arthur was confident he could take him. So, when the other did take a swing, the years of training kicked in as he pinned the right hook back behind Merlin’s back.

He leaned down to gloat when his own shoulder twinged. He’d have to check in with Gaius later. He must have overdone it on the training fields today.

“What, who do you think you are? The king?” Merlin jeered as he squirmed in Arthur’s hold, aggravating his shoulder more, and bringing him back to this current predicament.

Arthur leaned over slightly and countered, “No, I’m his son, Arthur.” He brought the poor idiot to his knees as guards came to collect him.

…

Arthur didn’t spare the peasant another thought, well he tried not to. He definitely didn’t lie awake that night thinking about how no one’s ever really stood up to him like that before other than maybe Morgana. He didn’t think about how he tried to help someone he never met before in a new town–because anyone who’s been in Camelot for even a few days would know who the prince was. And he absolutely wasn’t thinking about if he’d ever see the boy again.

Anyway, Arthur ran across Merlin the next day and decided to do the first thing he could to grab his attention. Call him out. “How's your knee-walking coming along?”

Of course, when the other didn’t rise to the bait, he had to push a little further. “Aw, don't run away!”

”From you?” Merlin asked, still not facing him.

And damn it, Arthur needed to see his face. He needed to figure out why this particular peasant won’t leave his thoughts alone. “Thank God. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb,” he tried prodding once more.

“Look, I've told you you're an ass,” Merlin finally turned to face the prince, “I just didn't realise you were a royal one.” That was the bite that’s been circling his head the last day! “Oh, what are you going to do? Get your daddy's men to protect you?”

Arthur laughed at the other’s fire. “I could take you apart with one blow.”

“I could take you apart with less than that.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur honestly wanted to see him try. He grabbed a pair of maces from a knight next to him. “Here you go.” He tossed Merlin one of them, to which the peasant dodged it, just barely missing him. That wasn’t necessarily his intention, but Merlin didn’t seem too shaken by it.

“Come on, then.” Arthur started swinging his mace, attempting to mildly intimidate the other. “I warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth.”

“Wow,” Merlin dragged out, clearly unimpressed. “And how long have you been training to be a prat?”

The prince lowered his weapon, extremely caught off guard. “You can't address me like that,” he huffed.

“I'm sorry.” A part of Arthur was happy to hear that until Merlin continued. “H-How long have you been training to be a prat, My Lord?” Merlin smiled coyly up at him from the mocking bow.

Now, Arthur has to knock that smug look off his face.

Their fight lasted longer than both parties expected it to go. Arthur came out victorious, as intended. As Merlin was being hauled away by guards, again, Arthur stopped them. “Wait. Let him go.” The prince looked the other over. “He may be an idiot, but he's a brave one. There's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it.”

He left quickly after that, adrenaline leaving him, and soon it caused his injuries to stand out in his mind. For how the fight went, everything seemed accounted for, though he couldn’t remember ever hitting his head.

…

Again, Merlin never crossed Arthur’s mind again for a long time.

That was until he saved Arthur’s life and his father made him the prince’s manservant. Now, Merlin’s everywhere. So much so that Arthur has trouble keeping track of him in the beginning. It doesn’t help that Merlin barely listened to or followed orders.

Honestly, sometimes Merlin felt like a bad luck charm. Whenever Arthur talked him into helping with training, he would always walk away more sore than any other practice.

Of course, then the idiot had to go and sacrifice himself by drinking poison for him.

As soon as he saw his servant falling, he could feel his own breath pick up as he raced to Merlin’s side.

He barely heard Gaius telling him to bring Merlin to the physician’s chambers over the roaring in his ears and the stifling heat of the banquet hall.

Arthur practically ran Merlin to the room, setting him down as carefully as he could.

“Is he going to be alright?” the prince asked as he shrugged off his own overcoat.

“He's burning up,” Gaius commented while checking Merlin.

Of course he is, Arthur thought, this castle is sweltering right now.

Guinevere returned with water and a towel for Merlin. “You can cure him, can't you Gaius?” she asked.

Gaius kept a close eye on the boy. “I won't know until I can identify the poison. Pass me the goblet.” Gwen did so. Arthur rolled his sleeves up on his tunic. “Ah. There's something stuck on the inside.”

“What is it?” Arthur asked, trying to keep the mild annoyance out of his voice. Now was the time to focus on Merlin, not his own petty discomfort.

“It looks like a flower petal of some kind,” Gaius said, examining the item he’d pulled from the chalice.

“His brow's on fire,” Gwen reported from where she was trying to help Merlin.

“Keep him cool; it'll help control his fever,” Gaius said as he pulled a book out and started to search.

Arthur wanted to help his servant but didn’t know how. It didn’t help that he was feeling unwell himself. Did he accidentally drink a bit of it? No, he’d be unconscious next to Merlin if that were true.

Gaius broke him from his spiralling thoughts. “Ah. The petal comes from the Mortaeus flower.” He pointed to a picture in a book that Arthur came over his shoulder to look at. “It says here that someone poisoned by the Mortaeus can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the very same flower. It can only be found in the caves deep beneath the Forest of Balor. The flower grows on the roots of the Mortaeus tree.”

The prince made a face at a picture next to the flower. “That's not particularly friendly.”

“A Cockatrice.” Gaius explained. “It guards the forest. Its venom is potent. A single drop would mean certain death. Few who have crossed the Mountains of Isgaard in search of the Mortaeus flower have made it back alive.”

Arthur started to head to the door, his mindset. “Sounds like fun.”

“Arthur, it's too dangerous,” Gaius called, stopping him momentarily.

“If I don't get the antidote, what happens to Merlin?” the prince asked, voice ice cold.

Gaius looked like he didn’t want to explain it, though he knew he must. “The Mortaeus induces a slow and painful death. He may hold out for four, maybe five days, but not for much longer. Eventually, he will die.”

Arthur nodded and left the room, resolute in his quest.

…

“What's the point of having people to taste for you if you're going to get yourself killed anyway?”

Arthur did his best to keep his strides even with his father and not let any of his discomfort show. Asking for this was already a long shot. If he showed any signs of being ill, he would be immediately shut down. “I won't fail, no matter what you think.”

“Arthur, you are my only son and heir.” Uther seemed finished with this conversation already. “I can't risk losing you for the sake of some serving boy.”

“Oh, because his life's worthless?” Arthur retorted, currently getting angrier than he should be if he wanted any hope of going.

“No,” Uther cut him off, turning around to fully face the prince, “because it's worth less than yours.”

“I can save him.” Arthur wanted to bargain, but knew it would be wasted breath. Breath that was coming harder for him each hour. “Let me take some men.”

“No,” Uther responded with an air of finality, except Arthur was slowly realising that he would push or even break many boundaries for Merlin.

“We'll find the antidote and bring it back.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Arthur nearly yelled. He tried to keep his breathing steady and not let the exhaustion from fighting this verbal battle show any more than it is. His temper is nearly out of his control.

Uther looked his son over before replying in a low, level voice, “Because one day I will be dead and Camelot will need a king. A king who won’t get so worked up over a lowly peasant. And I'm not going to let you jeopardise the future of this kingdom over some fool's errand.”

Arthur adjusted his sword belt, willing himself to get a grip on his emotions for Merlin’s sake. “It's not a fool's errand,” he said calmly. “Gaius says that if we can get the antidote…”

“Oh, Gaius says?” the king interrupted, seeming to finally hit the edge of his own temper, “That's exactly what makes it so.”

“Please, Father.” Arthur can practically feel his friend’s life slipping through his fingers. “He saved my life. I can't stand by and watch him die.”

Uther met his child’s gaze once more. “Then don't look.”

…

In the end, after his own conscious eating at him, the stifling feelings of being in the castle, and a rousing pep talk from Morgana, Arthur was able to set off in the middle of the night on a solo quest to save Merlin.

As he reached the forest just outside of the citadel, Arthur was already regretting not bringing at least one other person. His breathing was far too ragged and fast, especially for the slightly relaxed pace he was going. He wanted to push himself further, afraid that any time dawdling could mean Merlin’s death. But if Arthur ended up passed out in the forest for several days from exhaustion from overexerting his ailing body, he wouldn’t be of much use to anyone.

After a needed break, he started his long journey again at dawn. As he shook the remnants of sleep off of him, he noticed a stinging, burning itch inside his left arm. Confused, the prince moved his clothing around before getting a good look at the strange, discoloured patch of skin with a raw red ring around it.

His first thought was that something must have gotten under his gambeson when he was asleep. Thankfully, he had chosen to rest near a riverbed. He remembered a little of what Gaius had told him to do in this situation, so he tried to rinse off anything that might still be on top of the skin. The cool water should help soothe it a bit, yet when he ran the arm under water, nothing happened. The prince obviously could feel the water running as smooth as silk over his skin, but it somehow never touched the rash, for better or worse.

When nothing seemed to happen, Arthur removed his arm and dried it off as best he could, surprisingly, the cloth didn’t bother it much either. He knew that he should figure out what exactly was going wrong with him, but Arthur knew he wouldn’t find answers in the forest. Since it wasn’t causing any current trouble, he decided it was best to push it aside for now and focus on the task at hand. With that thought, the prince finished gathering what little belongings he had on him, got on his horse, and continued onward.

However, as he made his way through the land, his mind kept drifting to his arm. What exactly could have caused it? It was likely magic from the unordinary behaviour. It didn’t appear to be killing him, at the very least not quickly. As he began walking, trying to remember the way he was shown, a stray thought crossed his mind: What if it’s your soulmate? Arthur stopped momentarily, caught completely off guard. He hasn’t given any real, deep thought to soulmates in likely a decade. He shook his head, clearing it. He had long since accepted that he didn’t have a soulmate, not even a platonic one. The thought that one would show itself now, so late in Arthur’s life was almost laughably ridiculous.

Quiet sobbing broke the prince from his musings.

…

The task of picking a flower from a cave turned into a challenge harder than just finding the damn place. The random vengeful witch and quickly worsening health was not helping.

But, after heaving and pulling himself through the spider-filled cave, Arthur completed his task. Barely staying awake atop his horse, he rode as quickly for Camelot as he could, only to get immediately hauled off to the dungeons by reluctant knights.

“You disobeyed me,” his father bellowed.

“Of course I did,” Arthur responded, leaning against the wall of his cell. He couldn’t hide the fatigue anymore. “A man's life was at stake. Do not let Merlin die because of something I did.” Despite barely staying on his feet, he kept his voice fairly level.

Uther eyed his son up and down, carefully examining him, what for, Arthur couldn’t figure out. “Why do you care so much? The boy is just a servant, and you’re clearly much worse off for it.” He motioned towards a patch of Athur’s exposed chest where the rash had climbed to. Suddenly self-conscious, he adjusted his shirt slightly and pushed more of the sweat out of his eyes.

The prince pushed himself from the wall, staggering slightly, though doing his best to put himself at his father’s eye level. “He knew the danger he was putting himself in, and he knew what would happen if he drank from that goblet, but he did it anyway. He saved my life.” Arthur drew a shaky breath. His breathing seemed to have been progressively getting slower since around the time he’d been placed in his cell. “There's more. There was a woman at the mountain. She knew I was there for the flower. I don't think it was Bayard who tried to poison me.”

A strange look crossed Uther’s face, but Arthur was too far gone to try and decipher it. “Of course it was.”

A chill ran down Arthur’s spine and his knees tried to shake. He knew this conversation needed to end soon for his own sake. Slowly pulling out the Morteus, he said, “Gaius knows what to do with it.” Uther moved across the room and grabbed the flower. Arthur could have wept with relief. Merlin would be safe. Another chill tried to chase away his fever causing him to shudder as he continued, “Put me in the stocks for a week, a month even, I don't care. Just make sure it gets to him. I'm begging you.” He stared his father down, hoping the sincerity and attempt at platitude would work.

Uther began to walk away and Arthur truly thought it had worked before his father crushed the flower in his hand.

“No!” Arthur yelled, reaching for the flower, only managing to tangle his weakened legs together and crumple to the ground.

The king looked down at his son as he said, “You have to learn there's a right and a wrong way of doing things. I'll see you're let out in a week. Then you can find yourself another servant.”

Arthur tried to pull himself up and towards his retreating hope as Uther left the cell and dropped the flower remains just outside of it. The guards shut and lock the door behind the king. Arthur crawled his way over to the bars, reaching for the flower with the little energy he had left. With the tips of his fingers, he grabbed it and brought the treasure inside with him. Unsure how to proceed, he cradled Merlin’s hope close to his chest as he passed out against the bars of his cell.

…

Arthur woke to the metal he was leaning on getting pulled out from under him. He didn’t even have the strength to catch himself. He just let himself fall to the cold, hard ground. Someone hovered over him expectantly, so Arthur reluctantly opened his eyes to find Guinevere staring nervously down at him. He tried to think of something, but his brain was not firing very fast.

Quickly enough though, he motioned near him with a languid wave of his hand saying, “Set it down over there.”

Gwen rushed to comply as Arthur slowly crawled to follow. As the plate was set down, Gwen looked over at Arthur expectantly.

“Thank you,” the prince said, pointedly before looking down at the plate. His stomach rolled at the mere thought of food. He carefully picked at a few of the pieces, sliding the Morteus within.

“Wait a minute,” he called to a retreating Guinevere. He shifted to the side giving her easy access to the plate and antidote while still trying to appear nonplussed.

“I couldn't possibly eat this, it's disgusting,” he attempted to scoff, but it ended up turning into a coughing fit at the end. Guinevere moved to help him, yet he waved her own. After a minute, he continued, “The state it's in, I'm not sure it's fit for anyone.”

A sparkle lit up in Gwen’s eyes right before she bowed her head, grabbing the plate once more. She quickly made her way out of the cell. Arthur ran one hand over his face, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of the way while keeping his other hand close to his chest, keeping up appearances and all, then let his head fall back against the wall. Merlin would be safe. With one last shuddering breath, he happily slipped unconscious.

…

Arthur awoke the next day, still in his cold, dank cell, though, somehow, miraculously better. All of his ailments just vanished from the fever to rash to fatigue. The only thing left was hunger from refusing his food yesterday. Of course, his father still sent Gaius to check him over, not knowing about Arthur’s improved condition and likely wouldn’t believe it. Arthur was remorseful to take the physician away from Merlin so soon; however, he was grateful for anyone able to give him any insight into how his manservant might be doing.

Gaius began his examination, seemingly unsure of what he was looking for.

“How’s he doing?” Arthur started

A small smile tugged at Gaius’s lips as he continued working on the prince. “He’s much better thanks to you, sire. Take a deep breath for me, now.”

Arthur complied, happy that he actually could now. “And everything seems alright? Nothing lingering?”

The physician stepped away from him. “I believe I should be asking you that, sire. You appear to be in perfect health while the king talked as though you were on death’s door.”

Arthur shrugged. “I can’t explain it, Gaius. I was feverish, had chills, rashes everywhere, and horrible fatigue. Then I woke this morning, and it was gone. First the light and now this,” he muttered the last bit to himself.

“What was that, your highness?”

Arthur looked over at Gaius. “Just, when I was struggling in the cave, someone knew I was in trouble and sent a light to guide the way. Now, I’m in perfect health after nearly dying. It seems like someone is watching over me, keeping me from harm.”

Gaius turned away from the prince, a troubled expression crossing over his face.

Arthur hastily jumped to add, “Not that I would condone any magic in Camelot, especially against the prince.”

“Of course not, sire. I would never suggest such a thing.” Gaius responded while rummaging in his medicine bag. After a moment, he pulled out a blue vial that looked just like one of Morgana’s sleeping draughts. “Now, take this right before bed just to make sure everything is out of your system.”

Arthur took the bottle and nodded in thanks as the physician left.

He took the drink as instructed and swiftly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

As Uther praised Gaius for his miracle cure while backhandedly telling Arthur off for doing something so stupid and reckless, the prince felt a phantom pain hit his shin and run down his leg.

…

Arthur was pointedly not thinking about soulmates. The problem was, they just kept coming up –like some other smart-mouthed nuisance in his life. This one, however, he couldn’t just send to muck out his stables when he’s annoyed with it, no matter how much he wished to.

About a week or so after he was released for saving Merlin, Guinevere found her soulmate. Arthur would admit that he felt a bit bad for the trouble he must have put the poor girl through when Lancelot first came to Camelot. He wished there was a way that he could have kept the pair together. He accidentally overheard Morgana telling Gwen that she could leave and be with the almost-knight if that’s what she wanted, but Guinevere put her foot down, saying that Camelot was her home and she wouldn’t leave it. That didn’t stop her from crying as she watched Lancelot leave, staring out over the horizon long after he was gone.

Arthur found himself rubbing his wrist as he watched her before shaking his head and walking away.

The prince has noticed some… things of his own.

Randomly he’ll wake up with bruises forming rings around his wrists and a light red circle around his neck. Usually, a backache accompanies it as well. He can never figure out the source. He just wears higher collars and longer sleeves, while working through the pain.

That quiet voice in the back of his mind always has an answer though Arthur refused to entertain it.

There are also the burn marks. They weren’t on his fingertips or even his hands, but lightly across his forearms and scattered around his lower legs. He would know if he himself had gotten them, and they started to tell a worrying story.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on that because soon after he met Sophia.

Sophia drowned out that quiet voice.

She drowned out a lot of voices.

She drowned Ar…

…

“Arthur?”

The prince groaned from where he was lying in bed. He was in extraordinary pain. He had a headache cleaving his head in half, making the room feel like it was swirling, as well as horrid, shooting pains down his spine. “What happened?” he moaned. He half opened his eyes before closing them with another groan as he was greeted by blinding light. “Where am I?”

“Can you remember anything?” A voice that sounds like Merlin murmurs next to him.

Arthur slowly tried to sit up, grumbling and grabbing his face, “Oh! Oh, my head! There was a girl. Sophia, she...I asked my father something about her, I asked him…” He bolted up in bed, immediately rejecting the action, sighing and dropping his aching head in his palms. “What was I thinking?” He would yell if it wouldn’t send his head ringing.

“Well, we did wonder,” Merlin continued. “Especially when you eloped with her last night.”

Arthur peered at the offending manservant between his fingers. “I did what?” he growled.

“Merlin had to bring you back to Camelot,” Gaius stated.

“I don't recall any of this.” Arthur massaged his head, afraid this was going to somehow make the migraine worse.

“Must've been some blow,” Gaius continued.

“What blow?” Other than to my ego, he chose to leave unsaid. Arthur finally lifted his head fully from his hands, looking at the pair.

“Well…er…when I caught up with you, I couldn't persuade you to return, you were beyond reason. So I had to make you.” Merlin stated, completely serious.

The prince groaned once again, flopping back on his bed. A mistake since it sent his head swimming again. He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, hoping it would help. It did not. “What did you use, my chainmail?”

“What?” Merlin questioned, sounding innocent, except Arthur didn’t believe it.

“My head is tearing itself in two, I can barely think with how the room is swaying, and my back is shooting fire through my spine. I have no idea someone like Merlin could hit me hard enough to do this much damage.”

“Uh… I only used a lump of wood, I swear.”

Arthur moved his hands away from his eyes to see Gaius staring Merlin down. Maybe Arthur wasn’t too far from the truth after all. He pointed to Merlin. “No one…can know about this–” the prince switched to Gaius “–any of it. Is that understood?” He tried to appear intimidating, but from the smirk trying to worm its way onto Merlin’s face, he wasn’t succeeding. He sighed into his bedding.

…

Soulmates actually left Arthur’s mind for a while between helping druid boys escape execution and unkillable coming to try and challenge him.

Strangely enough, they came back while he was far away from the throne, in Ealdor.

He noticed as he trained the men that afterward, they each had someone to go to, someone who knew exactly what to do, where exactly it hurt before it was ever spoken aloud.

Arthur rubbed his sore shoulder from showing sword-swinging techniques all day and wondered if he would ever find anything like that.

The next day, he guided the men in sword basics once more when he felt a scrap against his cheek. Arthur immediately looked up and around, for what, he wasn’t sure. No one was around to have hit him. Was he looking for the threat?

He brushed it off for the rest of the day until that night.

The group from Camelot was gathered around Hunith’s table, eating what she could provide for dinner, when something caught Arthur’s eye. Merlin turned his head to talk to one of the ladies and the candlelight shined against a new cut.

“Merlin, when’d you get that on your jaw?” the prince asked.

Merlin covered it with his hand and chuckled. “Oh, that? I got nicked by one of the men during training today. Nothing I won’t live through.” He smiled brightly at Arthur before getting back into his food. Something tightened in Arthur’s chest that he couldn’t explain.

That quiet voice in the back of Arthur’s head had a lot to say about that.

Unconsciously, Arthur started to pay more attention to Merlin in the days leading up to the battle. He tried to tell himself that it was because they were forced into temporary close quarters, but there is only so far you can fool yourself.

Merlin was very good at changing out of sight. By the time Arthur was awake, Merlin was dressed and the servant was always the first into sleep clothes.

Arthur caught flashes of skin here and there. He catalogued them as quickly as he could, memorising them and only trying to see if they were replicated on his own body late into the night.

When the actual battle came around, the prince was acutely aware of every pain he was feeling, his own and his other half’s.

Arthur figured by the time they had successfully driven out Kanen and his men, he would have a better understanding of everything and maybe even try to talk to Merlin.

Then, Will got hurt.

…

Arthur knew that Merlin would need some space and time. Arthur figured he could use that as well to gather more data.

He tried to take Merlin hunting to clear their heads.

That didn’t end well.

Except, the more time it took surprisingly the more Arthur got excited.

As he got more and more information of little things connecting him and Merlin, the giddier he was. There really was someone out there for Arthur. And it was his best friend–even if he would never tell the other that to his face.

Arthur started thinking of ways to tell Merlin. Maybe just slip it into a random conversation one day. Maybe bring the other into his room for a private meal and talk about the great work Merlin’s done for him the past year. Maybe just drop his own hints until Merlin figured it out, though that may take a while.

He had accepted it enough now, that it wouldn’t distract him too much from his daily work. Well, ordinary things wouldn’t, at least. Currently, Arthur was training with the knights while his father and Morgana were off on a visit to the lady’s father’s grave.

He was in the middle of a sparring match with Leon when it hit him. What hit him, he wasn’t sure, just one moment, he was holding his own just fine against his friend. The next, he was flat on his back, groaning, his ears were ringing, his muscles were pulled taut, and a buzzing sensation was running through his body.

When he could finally loosen his muscles enough to open his eyes and look around, he realised he was in the physician’s quarters. He must have been out for at least a little while to get here.

Arthur heard the door bang open. He attempted to get a glimpse of the person but still couldn’t move very well.

Thankfully, Gaius saw the attempt and called, “Sire? Are you awake?”

Garbled sounds and moans came from the patient cot. The prince’s mouth hadn’t fully regained feeling or function.

The physician came over and helped him sit up slightly. Arthur attempted to lightly move the muscles he could feel. When he could finally speak mostly clearly again, Arthur asked, “Where’s Merlin?”

Gaius looked up, confused and concerned from where he was examining the other. “He had to run an errand for me, sire. He should be back shortly. Can I pass along a message?”

“No,” Arthur groaned out as he continued to stretch out around Gaius’s probing.

Now, the prince knew that he wasn’t always the sharpest sword in the rack; however, he could see the picture these pieces were making. And for once, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Of course, Arthur still held that excitement of possibly having Merlin as his other half very near and dear to his heart. The issue was then, why the hell is this happening to Merlin?

As Gaius worked on Arthur’s body, he let his mind drift. He thought about the burn marks marring his body, about how badly he hurt after–what he was told–was a simple blow to the head after Sophia, and now about this lightning strike in the middle of a clear day. Who would be doing this to Merlin? Why Merlin of all people? Why has it only gotten this bad after Merlin came to Camelot?

Arthur doesn’t know how to even get close to any of these answers. Merlin wouldn’t give him a straight answer if the prince asked. Clearly, Gaius won’t say anything since he’s hiding whatever Merlin’s doing right now.

Eventually, Gaius deemed Arthur well enough to go about his day, but it was useless. He was completely unfocused for the rest of the day, barely acknowledging anyone who tried to interact with him. He didn’t even see Merlin that night. As he went to sleep, he wondered if that might be a good thing.

At this point, Arthur almost wished he was wrong just so he could stop hearing Merlin’s screams every time he traced over one of his scars.

…

Arthur still hadn’t found it within himself to tell Merlin anything before they were sent to kill the Questing Beast.

As the beast swept its claw against Arthur, he heard Merlin scream in pain right before he hit the wall and lost consciousness.

I would do anything to keep Merlin from feeling this pain, was his last thought before darkness took him.

The prince woke to a dull ache covering his body–focused around his left pectoral, utter exhaustion, and his father hovering over him.

He made a promise to himself right then that he’d have a real conversation with Merlin about everything the moment he had the chance.

Merlin never stopped by to see him for two days.

That night, Arthur was pouring himself a drink when his servant finally arrived. “Ah, Merlin,” the prince greeted the other. He was trying for calm and collected while his head was firing about twelve different alarms.

“How are you?” Merlin asked, fidgeting a bit.

Arthur looked him over. Something was up, he would just have to slowly figure it out. It wouldn’t do to have this conversation while Merlin was so tightly wound up. “Good.”

“I'm pleased.”

Arthur took his cup and sat down. “Yes. I owe it all to Gaius.” And you, he wanted to add. He knew there was no way Merlin just sat by while Gaius did everything.

A pause hung in the air and Arthur wondered if now was the chance to get anything out of Merlin when the servant beat him to it. “I need to talk to you.”

Hesitant about where this conversation was going to go, Arthur deflected with his usual tendencies. “You still haven't got it yet, have you? I decide when we need to talk.”

“Not today,” Merlin replied with a dark air of finality.

The prince looked the other over once more. Just a little more goading and something good would snap. “I sometimes wonder if you know who I am,” he teased.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Merlin chimed back, just as quickly.

“Good.”

Merlin finally left the door he’d been sulking in front of while taking the bait. “You're a prat. And a royal one.” A smile tugged at his lips, and oh how Arthur had missed that.

He chuckled lightly, trying to hide his own growing grin. “Are you ever going to change, Merlin?”

“No, you'd get bored.” Arthur winced, his shoulder flaring up and noticed his servant twitch at his side. He rubbed it, trying to soothe it for both of them. “But promise me this, if you get another servant, don't get a bootlicker.”

Arthur looked up, surprised at Merlin. “If this is you trying to leave your job…”

“No,” Merlin cut him off. “I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die.”

Then why does this feel like a goodbye, he wanted to say, instead, “Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin. Other times…” Arthur shook his head, fondly.

“Well, I know you,” Merlin jumped to say. Arthur turned his head up, eagerly awaiting the manservant’s next words. “And you're a great warrior. One day, you'll be a great king.”

Arthur felt something sharp burrow between his ribs, like a small dagger. “That's very kind of you,” he replied, hoping now would be his opening to change the subject. His gut was telling him it was now or never.

“But you must learn to listen as well as you fight,” Merlin continued.

The dagger twisted inside. “Any other pointers?” he asked.

“No. That's it.” Both men seemed to take a breath. Arthur was about to start the conversation back up again when Merlin finished, “Just...don't be a prat.” With that, Merlin turned on his heels and left. Arthur tried to call after him, but it was no use. Arthur felt the dagger get pulled out, leaving him feeling empty.

It was getting late, the next day. Arthur had asked just about everyone he’d seen to send Merlin his way, yet no one had appeared to have seen him. The prince was still not allowed to move around much, so he was stuck in his room with nothing except his thoughts and horrible paperwork.

He was sitting at his desk, trying to read the words for the eighth time when he felt the first set of flames. It was hard to tell what exactly it was. There was just a light burn, like standing too close to an open fire with bare skin. It set Arthur’s teeth on edge and made his whole body tense. What the hell is he doing now? he thought.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, a whole minute at most, before the fireball hit. This pain was unimaginable heat and sent all of his nerves into overdrive for a second before it was too much and they all switched off. That was about when he passed out.

A servant found him sometime later, passed out at his desk. Arthur woke with a start, looking around, the only thing on his mind was find Merlin. “Where’s Merlin?” he immediately asked the other.

The servant jumped slightly and Arthur realised that in his haste, he growled at the poor person. “Uh… I don’t know, sire. As far as I’m aware, no one has seen him at all today.”

Arthur nodded, bringing awareness to his chest. There was a numb sort of pain settling there, which he knew from Gaius’s lectures couldn’t mean anything good. “Just, make sure everyone knows that he is to come straight here once you find him.”

The servant bowed. “Yes, your highness.” And scurried out of the room.

Arthur watched them go and noticed a tray on his table that wasn’t there before. Ah. The servant must have been bringing him dinner and thought he had fallen asleep at his desk. Well, he thought, better that than the truth. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. He and Merlin were going to have words and the slippery servant wasn’t getting out of it this time.

…

Arthur was nodding off in his chair when he heard his chamber door open.

Merlin’s head poked in, looking wide-eyed and worried like something was going to attack him. Arthur cleared his throat causing the other to jump.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Nice of you to finally show up.”

Merlin had the decency to look a bit sheepish. “Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. What did you need me for, Sire?”

Arthur stood and walked around the servant, examining him up and down. The prince had seen a limp when Merlin walked in and could easily see the exhaustion in his servant’s posture. Though the second Arthur started staring, Merlin shrunk away and adjusted himself to try and hide the injuries better. When Arthur was done was his observations, he stared Merlin in the eye and ordered, “Take off your shirt.”

Merlin reeled back, clearly surprised and tried to hide by responding with a smirk, “Wow, so forward my lord.”

The insinuation sent a flush to Arthur’s cheeks, yet he wouldn’t be deterred. “Take it off, or I’ll take it off for you.”

That really confused the manservant. He took a few steps away from the prince. “Alright, I was joking before, but I’m not taking it off.”

Now, was Arthur’s next move childish, absolutely, but he was tired of dancing around the issue, tired of constantly fearing for Merlin while unable to know what was causing harm.

So, Arthur tackled Merlin. Yet, Merlin wouldn’t go down without a fight. The pair ended up rolling on the floor, fighting each other like children, until Arthur finally got a good enough fist full of the bottom of Merlin’s shirt and pulled it up as far as he could, and pinned the servant down by straddling his hips. “Arthur!” Merlin yelled, muffled by the fabric shoved over his face.

Except, Arthur wasn’t listening. He was staring down at the worst burn mark he’s ever seen. Merlin’s chest was completely charred in the centre with red, blistered skin surrounding it. Arthur’s hand hovered over the blackened skin, unable to look away as tears filled his eyes. His worst fears and greatest fantasies were right in front of him, covered in dirt, scars, and burns, trying to hide his face in his shirt.

“Merlin, I–” Arthur had a list of things he wanted to say–had planned to say–in this moment, yet he couldn’t say a word.

Merlin was the one to speak first. He moved the shirt down enough to whisper, unable to look the royal in the eye, “Arthur, how did you know about this?”

Arthur huffed a small laugh. “I would think after all this time in Camelot, you would’ve figured out the prince is your soulmate.”

Merlin jumped slightly underneath him, the floor apparently becoming very interesting. “So, you know?”

“Merlin,” Arthur stared at the other, trying to will their eyes to meet. Slowly, Merlin did. “I’ve known for a while now. I just want to know why?”

Merlin looked away once more and Arthur wanted to just force the servant to face him. “There are problems,” Merlins started slowly, “sometimes, that aren’t able to be solved with a sword and shield.”

Arthur didn’t know where Merlin was going with this, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Sometimes,”–it almost felt like pulling teeth at this point– “special forces need to be involved.”

The prince gazed down, expectantly, as Merlin squirmed under the scrutiny. “So, you’re saying that you are these… special forces?”

Merlin sighed and muttered something under his breath before all the candles in the room momentarily jumped higher. Arthur jumped as well, whipping around to find the danger when Merlin gently grabbed his face and forced their eyes to meet.

Oh. Arthur saw the gold trickle out of those big, blue, tearful eyes. “I–I have magic, Arthur.” Merlin fought to keep his voice steady as more tears rushed to those beautiful eyes. “I only use it for you, I swear. I–I never hurt people, unless they try to hurt you first, a–and I’m really careful about it, I promise. Just, please, don’t kill me, not for my sake, but yours. Just–Just say the word and I’ll leave. Well, I won’t leave, but you won’t see me again, I truly sw–” Merlin’s ramblings were cut off as Arthur threw himself down onto the smaller man.

Merlin broke off into hiccupping sobs as he clung to Arthur’s back for dear life.

Arthur held the other close, tight, and protectively. He only heard about half of what Merlin said and it would take a while for him to fully process everything, but he knew what he felt like doing and what Merlin needed. He carefully threaded his fingers through the other’s dark hair, massaging softly as Merlin seemed to be relaxing slightly.

“It’s okay Merlin,” Arthur murmured into the sorcerer’s shoulder. “We both know I wouldn’t last a day without you, soulmate or not.” That startled a laugh out of Merlin and Arthur smiled softly.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin whispered.

“Of course,” Arthur responded, knowing he would do anything to protect the shaking man in his arms.

#soulmates #soulmate au #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #tw injuries #tw injury #tw character death #cw injury #please do well #i love this one #bbc merlin fanfic

the-nerdiest-insanity