Merlin was exhausted. It was nearly dawn and the young warlock had yet to get even a minute of rest. He was up with the sun to fetch Arthur’s breakfast and wake him - and waking the King had been the only highlight of his day -, then to the stalls to muck out the previous days escapades, don’t forget carrying Arthur’s armor that weight the same - if not more - than himself, and then Arthur thought it would be humorous to make the already weary man pound the dust out of every tapestry in the castle. And that was all before supper.
He sluggishly walked down the hall, his right hand outstretched cupping a ball of light to guide his way. Not paying attention to where he was going - which seemed the norm in Merlin’s life - he was lost in his own head. His thoughts varied from, “Arthur’s a prat”, “I want sausage”, to “Arthur’s a prat who wouldn’t give me sausage.” Speaking of which, Merlin realized suddenly, he hadn’t eaten all day either. Or was it yesterday by now? His stomach rumbled in agreement. As he was about to turn the corner to leave the castle and make his way to Gaius’ chambers, when his foot collided with something unexpectedly warm. Unable to catch himself in time, Merlin tripped over the object, the light in his hand flashing out as he fell to the floor.
Falling, all lankly limbs and embarrassing yelps, he landed beside the offending form. He was on edge for a second, worried someone was hurt, until he took in who this body belonged to.
His anxiety spiked.
“Gwaine?”
@strengthhasarrived