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The fight had started so suddenly.
Merlin had just woken up and was lying on the ground for a moment trying to fight his way back to full awareness, happily thinking of the events of the day before. It had started out roughly, but by the end of the day, he had gained a father.
He has a father now! He can hardly believe it!
Of course, Merlin knows there is a lot to work through and talk about, but they will be alright, they'll get everything all figured out. Merlin is sure of it.
And then he’s torn from his thoughts by a hand pressing hard against his mouth and Arthur whispering, “Cenred’s men.”
The fight happens quickly after that, Merlin tossed his father his sword, grabbing one himself when another soldier comes running at him. Merlin does the best he can to defend himself, but his sword is forced from his hand with a well-placed hit.
Merlin freezes. He can’t use his magic, not with Arthur here. Both Arthur and his father are currently still engaged with other soldiers, so he can’t get help from either of them. And then Merlin realizes that he had taken too long, frozen in his indecision, and the sword that had been pointed at his chest was now moving towards him.
Merlin isn’t able to comprehend what had happened for a moment. He looks down, and it is still a shock to see a sword buried in his chest, as if he hadn’t seen it coming for him before it had actually run him through.
It doesn’t hurt as much as he had thought it would, more like taking a firm punch to the chest. Like when he is training with Arthur, except he isn’t on a training field with Arthur. He’s fighting for his life in the middle of a forest in Essetir.
Merlin feels as the adrenaline from the fight leaves him and the pain starts to hit him, gasping when the sword is pulled out quickly. Blood spurts as he falls backwards into what feels like a wall, but he registers in the back of his mind that it is actually his father. He can only stare down at the dark red stain spreading quickly on the front of his shirt.
Sound faded back in, and he is aware of the clanging sound of swords colliding in a fight. Looking up he could see his father locked into a match with a man with a sword with a bright red blade. Which is weird, because most blades aren’t red, they’re silver.
Oh. That blade is red because of me. My blood is what is making it red.
There is a strangled yell and then dirt is kicked up around where he is lying on the ground- and when did I lay down?- as someone runs over to him and drops down quickly beside him. He can’t be bothered to look around and check and see who it was.
The sky looks so beautiful. Some may think it a terrible sight with it being a mostly grayish blue, but Merlin couldn’t help but think it still is a nice sight. Birds flew overhead chirping to one another, the trees creating an interesting sort of pattern in the sky as the sun that struggled to shine through the cloudy sky created faint rays of light through the leaves.
Beautiful. There's no other word to describe it.
“Merlin! Merlin, you have to stay awake! Merli-”
Merlin thinks about staying awake as the voice yells at him to do, but he is so very tired. Just a small nap, and then he will wake up, and stay awake like the voice tells him to.
Balinor is an experienced fighter. Having been trained from the time he was child, and then later on in life, having to always be fighting just to survive, had helped him hone his skills to an expert swordsman.
Though it's clear to Balinor, that his son does not have much of a sword hand at all. He can defend himself somewhat, clearly having had to defend himself with a sword in the past in some way, but he has clearly never had actual training.
He was just going to finish off the man he had currently been held up with, before going to help his son. Because while the boy can defend himself for a little while, he is not a match for the experienced fighters they were currently trying to fend off.
A choked gasp catches his attention, and he looks back to see- Oh gods no.
“Merlin!” Balinor shouts over to his son.
He quickly swung his sword at the man he had been fighting, striking him in the throat, and the man fell to the ground dead.
Balinor turns around quickly to see that the sword that's been thrust through Merlin's chest is being pulled out, and then he falls backwards. Balinor quickly catches him to break his fall somewhat, before dropping him to the ground as gently as he can.
The man Merlin had been fighting went to swing at them, but Balinor brought his sword up quickly to block. Some red liquid splattered onto his face at the collision, and Balinor’s vision narrowed on the sword the man was holding, coated in his son's blood.
He made quick work of the soldier, before looking back to Merlin. He got over to him as quickly as he could and dropped down beside him.
Merlin’s face had gone pale as he lay on the ground, blood that had been pouring from the wound soaking into the dirt below him. He had been looking up at the sky with a face full of wonder, Balinor glances up quickly but upon seeing nothing, turns his attention back on his dying son.
When Merlin’s eyes fluttered and then didn’t open again, he felt alarm flood through him, he couldn't let him fall asleep. “Merlin! Merlin, you have to stay awake! Merlin, son, wake up!” He lightly patted a deathly pale cheek, in an effort to wake him.
He curses before moving his attention to the wound on his chest, tearing the thin fabric to get a better look. With his hand resting on the blood slick chest, he can feel a barely there heartbeat, weakly trying to keep going.
“Merlin! Where the hell have you gotten too, I need this cut cleaned and-” A shout comes from behind him. He turns to see Prince Arthur hurrying in their direction, he feels like he can pinpoint the exact moment the prince realizes what has happened. “Merlin!”
Within moments the prince is at his side looking down at the gaping stab wound in horror. “What- Can you help him?” He asks desperately.
“I will do whatever I have to, to save him. We need to get back to my cave, I have the supplies I need to help him there.” He doesn’t wait for acknowledgement, lifting the too light boy into his arms and walking in the direction of his cave as quickly as he can.
He can hear the crunching of branches behind him as he hears Arthur quickly start to follow after him. The young man walks with a hurried pace until he is slightly ahead of Balinor with his sword held at the ready and eyes watchful for even the slightest sign of trouble. Though, luckily for all of them, they manage to get back without any trouble.
He lays Merlin down on the blankets spread out and quickly gathers some things necessary to heal him. Once he has the potion he needs ground up and mixed together he quickly brings it over to the dying boy. Kneeling beside Merlin, he brings the cup to his lips and slowly tips the bowl to pour it into his mouth. He gently massages his throat to get him to swallow. When the bowl is emptied, he holds his hands over Merlin’s chest and starts to mutter the spell quietly, he senses the Pendragon boy tense up and look over at him once he’s started the spell, but he doesn't interrupt, to Balinor's own shock.
Once he's finished, he glances to the side at the tension filled young man, “The spell and potion will heal his injuries, but it will need some time to work. We will be able to leave for Camelot in the morning”
“Thank you, for your help. When we get to Camelot you can be sure that my father will not hear of this.” Arthur appears to struggle for a moment, looking down at his hands for a moment before looking back to Balinor. “And I will assure that you will have safe passage out of Camelot. Though it angered me before, I can understand why you hadn’t wanted to help. I don't know if I could have brought myself to help the man that killed the rest of my kind and my family. I am grateful for it. And for your help with healing my manservant.” Uncomfortable with the emotion that is filling the space of the cavern, he stands up, “I will go catch us something to eat.”
Balinor lowers himself down to sit beside Merlin, he gazes down at him, studying his face. He can see so much of Hunith in their son. Merlin inherited some features from him as well, but he looks so much like his mother. An ache that Balinor had long ago pushed deep down returns with a vengeance.
He still is unable to believe everything that has happened just in the past day. He has a son. He didn’t think he would ever get that. After the great purge had started, Balinor had lost hope of ever having a child, not wanting to bring one into a world that would see it dead just for being born.
He snaps back to attention when Merlin shifts slightly and gasps as his eyes fly open and he shoots up into a semi-seated position. Balinor quickly moves to push him back down on the blankets, “Easy there, boy. You're safe, but you need to lie still. You’re still gravely injured.”
Merlin’s gaze shifts to look up at Balinor before relaxing, still seeming to be somewhat disoriented. “Father? Wha-” He rasps out and sucks in a breath, Balinor just managing to stop his hand from grabbing onto his chest. “Wha’ happened?”
“Do you remember when we were attacked? One of the men stabbed you, we brought you back to my cave so I could heal you.”
Merlin’s eyes widened and he tried to sit up again, failing when his father held him still against the blankets. “Arthur! Where is he? Is he alright?”
“Arthur is alright, he’s just out catching some dinner. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. But you need to rest up some more, your wound would have been fatal if I hadn't healed you.” Balinor assures Merlin softly, not even realizing for a moment when he had rested his hand against the boy's still too pale cheek. But it feels right, and Merlin seems to relax under the touch. “You will need all the rest you can get, we are to head for Camelot in the morning once your wound has healed. I will wake you when it is time to eat.”
Merlin shifts some, wincing when he moves too much and pulls on his still healing wound, and lays his head back against the bundled blankets acting as a pillow for him. “Alright. G’night, Father,” he mutters quietly, already asleep.
Balinor smiles when he hears the quietly spoken words, quickly bending down to place a kiss to the sweaty forehead of his son. Something he will never believe that he actually has. “Rest well, son.”