Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin Pendragon wasn’t entirely sure where he was for the longest time… the consort had just been drifting in his own head. Allowing the darkness that was keeping him safe behind his own eyelids to cocoon him in the warmth that had been severely neglected from his life lately. He couldn’t remember much about why he wanted to stay in the darkness when he’d spent so much of his life just crawling his way out of it, but right now, the darkness felt as if it could’ve been the sweetest thing to have ever happened to him. It was someplace that Merlin wouldn’t be disturbed, and someplace where Merlin could relax and enjoy this moment where his mind wasn’t constantly being plagued by thoughts that had to be more haunting to him than anything else. Who would want to return back to a life that constantly threw hell straight at your back and was expecting you to just keep standing as if there was nothing wrong with the world? There were many people, though, who probably would have stayed in that darkness forever if they were allowed to, content to keep the outside world at bay until it finally refused to be ignored any longer. But Merlin…

Merlin wasn’t like that.

He was a survivor at his core.

And even though his brain was finding it hard to understand exactly what had happened to him to put him in this state of mind, Merlin knew that something awful must have happened to him. Something bad… His body was entirely sore all over, which was one of the first things he noticed when the swimming feeling in his head finally abated enough for Merlin to take stock of himself. And Merlin was not able to say what was hurting him the most… It could have been his face, as he felt as if he had gotten his head smashed into the ground a thousand times by a force that was much bigger and stronger than him. It could have been his wrists, which ached with such ferocity with every little minute twitch he made in his attempt to be more aware of what was going on with him… Had something been holding him down? Merlin’s wrists hadn’t ached like this since the prince had stopped pinning him down to every flat surface that they’ve happened to come across… Or it could have been his back… Yes, Merlin decided as his face scrunched up at the dull pain that roiled through his body.

He could say, without a doubt in his mind, that his back was the worst thing to be hurting him. He couldn’t even describe the pain that it was in, though it was possible that this was only because his head was in such a daze of shock that normal words were escaping him. Merlin had felt the pain that came with being beaten up before… Jacqui and several of the knights and even Arthur had taken a turn at it once before. But there was just something about the beaten… It had to have been a beating, as there was no other reason as to why he’d feel this bad if it wasn’t… that made Merlin’s belly twist. The way his back felt as it rubbed lightly against the lightweight tunics he was wearing—it couldn’t have been one of his own—made alarm bells ring harshly in his temples; the flash of a dark crackle as something slapped against him made Merlin flinch harshly on the bed, his fingers curling reflexively in what could only be bed sheets, before he realized it was only in his head. Nothing was slapping him… Nothing’s trying to tear the flesh from his bones one painstaking strip at a time.

The low murmuring sound of his name was not his imagination.

Merlin sank back into the darkness afforded to him; the side of his face felt as if it was now blown up to twice its normal amount pressed against the material of his pillow. And Merlin knew that it was his pillow, though don’t try asking the consort exactly how he knew that when his head was in such a fog. Perhaps it was the smell… the scent of fading potion fumes that wafted up from the main area where Gaius did most of his work. The smell that would come from Merlin himself after he scrubbed himself down in his cleaning bucket and the scented soap that Gaius would throw at him whenever he needed a new bar, and he could fall face-first into his bed after a busy day. Merlin had never known it could be so comforting to smell something that was as familiar as himself, when he had spent so long with his nose filled up with the scent of iron blood smothering in the air and sweat that stank worse than a pig's pen as fear permeated the air… The scent of magic sprinkling in the air but carefully contained by all else… this was okay. This smell in his nose now meant that he was safe, that nobody was going to get him, and that he wouldn’t have to keep his magic so restrained that it felt as if it was going to explode if he didn’t allow it to roam free.

The sound of his name was back, just a little bit clearer than before, but Merlin only mumbled something incomprehensible before he was burying his head on the surface of his pillow once again.

Merlin should surface right now… should face whatever the world had waiting for him… that was what survivors did. They returned stronger than they’d been before and faced whatever was going to come at them head-on. But there are a few more flashes in Merlin’s mind that refuse to let him rest easy… blond hair that did not look like Arthur’s in any way. The crackle of laughter… squeaking in a manner unbecoming of somebody who has faced foes that were far stronger than what he had just faced. And then the echo of pain ricocheting up his back for what had to be the millionth time, the shadowy flash of a black whip trying to form in the corner of his eye… more laughter that could not be escaped… It is what happened to him. His brain was trying to remember, to put the pieces together in a way that would make sense for him to understand so that Merlin would not fall victim to losing his sanity. He had just been through—survived—something that would have broken most people without fail. Something that’d change a person so deeply, they’d be nothing left but a shadow of themselves afterwards…

Merlin couldn’t let that happen to him.

Not after everything he’d been through to make it this far in his life.

There it was again… the soft murmuring of his name that would not be ignored this time around as the shadows in his mind started easing up. And there was something else as well this time… the lightest and softest touch imaginable in his hairline. Right where his dark bangs met the curve of his forehead… it was so achingly soft that Merlin couldn’t help but push his head forward a bit more to try and feel it again. But the soft touch pulled away from him… too fast… as if Merlin had somehow scared it away from him. But that was just silly talk… he was not a very scary person. People wouldn’t keep trying to kill him if they had a single inkling about how dangerous he really was, but Merlin also didn’t need to be scary. There was something in his life that was much scarier than he was ever going to be… the touch on his hairline was back. Just as soft as it was the moment before, but more hesitant and cautious than it had been… as if it’s not sure its touch would be welcomed. But that was also silly talk, Merlin decided as the thing brushed his hair away from his forehead… the touch felt like ice on his burning skin. Something cold after a summer that felt as if it could melt the skin from your bones without any shade to shadow you from the heated ray of the sun…

The touch was skittish…

And more flashes came to Merlin.

He could remember things more clearly… Even when Merlin was in such a poor state of consciousness, he had still been aware of what was happening around him. The whipping… the harsh hits across his back that felt as if they were not ever going to end. The screaming of somebody else, somebody new, after they came across the scene they must have been making. Being dropped in the dirt as if he were yesterday’s trash and of no use to anybody anymore, crumbling to the ground without anything there to hold him up. The ground being his source of stability to keep him grounded as the people that had tortured him within an inch of his life started to scream around him. A pair of familiar boots appeared in his vision for a brief second before more screams started and blood started to fly… Arthur. Those boots had belonged to Arthur, and Merlin wasn’t going to even start thinking about when he had become so familiar with Arthur that the consort now knew what boots he was more likely to wear when there’s not any sort of festival or celebration going on in the castle. 

Those boots had simply belonged to Arthur Pendragon, and that meant Arthur was here… he was always here. Even when Merlin didn’t want him to be. Merlin finally drew up what strength he had, the darkness inside his head making way for the dim morning light making its way into his bedroom. And the thing that had been touching him, brushing the hair away from his eyes, flinched as soon as Merlin’s eyes fluttered open. Only this time, Merlin’s head was a bit clearer—if throbbing, just the headache building behind his bruised face—and he was able to see Arthur sitting there at his bedside. The prince’s hand curled tightly against his chest, with his blue eyes wide and filled with guilt over having just been caught touching Merlin once again without his expressed permission and sitting on a little stool that looked as if it was about to break beneath the much larger man sitting on top of it. And Merlin blinked his eyes beadily, seeing all of the golden light from the sun that shone in through the windows and cast a halo around his husband that reflected off the golden color of his hair… Merlin blinked again, and the light moved. His husband being nothing other than who happened to be sitting at his most recent sickbed… Merlin wearily glanced at his surroundings to take better stock of where he was, ignoring the prince that kept watching him as if he thought Merlin was about to fade away the second he took his eyes off of him.

Merlin had been right when he realized he was back in his room. He could see the familiar sights all around him. He could see the bedside table that housed that stupid lotus flower chest that Arthur had given him so many months ago, which remained untouched and all but forgotten about to this very day. He could see the fancy chest that was resting against his wall that housed all the many clothes he had been given that were for ‘consort events,’ so he would look the part of Camelot’s Royal Consort. He could see the wardrobe leaning against his wall that had hinges that were so messed up that it was all but impossible for the door to close like it should, which housed his more comfortable ‘peasant-style clothing’ for his everyday use. And he knew, even if he didn’t look, that there was a floorboard in the floor—right beneath Arthur’s stool, if Merlin was looking at this right—that housed the magical tomb his uncle had given to him as a wedding present. Perhaps Merlin should have been scared… It would only take Arthur shifting his stool for him to hear the unsettled creaking, and if the prince got suspicious enough to wonder about the loose board… But his back was throbbing, and there were some things that took priority compared to his constant ‘what if’s.’ 

“Where’s—“

Merlin’s question ended when he started coughing, a loud and terrible cough that sounded as if the consort had swallowed a mountain load of smoke. His entire body started to shake, and Merlin curled himself into a ball to cough up the raspy feeling in his throat… it felt as if it was on fire. Raw and sore after all the loud screams his whipping had produced from his throat, Merlin could only vaguely hear the loud clattering at his side as Arthur started to scramble about. He was probably going to run off now to try and get Gaius in the room so that he could handle the problems that Arthur would obviously not want to deal with, but… the sudden press of something hard and metallic was pressed between the curve of his lips. Merlin choked in surprise, the sudden stream of water that was so cold and wonderful against his dry lips cutting off as Arthur pulled it away, looking suddenly terrified that Merlin may have started choking on the fresh water that was being supplied to him.

Merlin stared at Arthur with his dark brows furrowed towards the center of his forehead—and even that much movement was making him hurt—with his white lips only a scant few inches away from the heavy goblet that Arthur seemed to have produced out of nowhere. And this was probably the moment that Merlin should have taken the goblet for himself, because he was in no position to try turning down water when he was in the state that he was in, but his hands had started shaking from the strain that came with holding himself up. The goblet wasn’t a tin cup, and Merlin was more liable to dropping the goblet everywhere and wasting the water on his bed covers… Did he really want Arthur to see him so vulnerable that he couldn’t even hold a goblet? Or was Merlin going to find himself more humiliated if he… well, the prince had already seen Merlin being captured and whipped by three slimeballs. There was hardly anything that he could find that would be more humiliating than that… Merlin lowered his gaze back down to the goblet in front of him and moved closer so that he could fit his lips around the curved metal, the top of the water brushing his lips with a relief that was so great, it was almost a godsend to him at this point.

In the corner of his eye, Merlin was able to see how the prince swallowed thickly enough that his whole Adam's apple bobbed violently in his throat—he probably felt as if he was too good to do something as simple as holding the goblet for Merlin’s use—before he was tipping the goblet forward. Allowing more water to flow into Merlin’s mouth, which the consort greedily swallowed down as much of it as he could… it was only mildly irritating that the prince kept pulling at the goblet and briefly stopping the flow of water before he would tip it again so he could drink more of it. But that was probably for the best, Merlin thought with a grudging undertone as he started reaching the end of the goblet. If the man had just allowed Merlin to have however much he damn well wanted, then it’s more than likely that Merlin was going to end up choking because he wanted to take in more than he was capable of taking in at one time. It was still pretty infuriating, though, knowing that Arthur was seeing this and deciding what the consort’s ‘limits’ were. But Merlin’s back was aching, and he was tired, and did it really fucking matter right now? A fight when he couldn’t even stand straight right now did not sound as if it would have been one of his best ideas, and the consort finally pulled his lips away from the goblet when there was nothing left to offer him, his lips now rosy pink from the wetness of the water as he nearly collapsed back onto his bed.

“Where’s Gaius?”

Merlin was finally able to get the question he was trying to ask out of his lips earlier, his voice coming out much smoother than it had earlier, as his princely husband pulled the goblet back towards himself, the goblet held loosely in his fingers. And Merlin tried to ignore the way that Arthur was practically staring him down, overlooking every single inch of Merlin’s body as if it was his to look at. If Merlin didn’t already realize—his head much clearer and far more focused after the cooling water—that he was wearing one of the lightweight tunics that tied in the back that Gaius used on people who had back injuries that he would need the easy access to get to, and his blanket covering his bare legs, then he would have assumed he really was naked. And Arthur was getting a full look at things that he should NOT be seeing, that would make Merlin want to boil both of his eyes just to pretend that he wasn’t seeing any of this. But Merlin was not naked, and Arthur hadn’t run away yet, so the consort forced his muscles into a more relaxed state. The tenseness that had been in him could not have been good for the pain in his back.

“Your uncle had to leave after there was nothing left that he could do to help you with your wounds. Gaius needed to… inform my father about your latest incident so that he would be informed about what happened to a member of the royal family, so he would know not to call on you for something until you’re healed enough to return to your normal consort activities.” Arthur recited with a tone that sounded almost robotic, as if the prince was there but not exactly present to what was happening. A little line formed between Merlin’s eyes as he watched the prince, watching as Arthur turned away with a disgraced look on his face, voice returning to something that was more normal but not normal at the same time. “I am also sure that your uncle is going to take this time and inform my father that we are down another three knights and why they will not have their bodies turned over to their families so that they can have their own private funeral rites. Knights who are… traitors to Camelot do not get the same burial opportunities as, say… those who died with honor during battle, you see.”

Merlin supposes that this wasn’t all that surprising… the fact that the men who attacked him were dead was something that was expected. He had been taken and WHIPPED by them, to the point where he was too afraid to move because of the pain he knew would hit him the second his tunic rubbed against his back… the only reason Arthur would have them alive was so that they could die from his hand publicly. Another show to make sure people would know not to try to do something to Merlin… as if it had ever helped before. Christian had actually been there when Arthur had brutally beaten Jacqui down into the ground until he was nothing more than a pit stain to be destroyed, and he had still risked it all, thinking that he was smart enough to not be caught. But the screaming Merlin could vaguely hear in the back of his mind whenever he tried thinking about the aftermath—though he eventually gave up because of the insane headache that was threatening to split his skull apart—before he had blacked out. Blood splatters and gore, only vague recollections that could have been just a dream if Merlin didn’t have the firm sense in his bones that said it had been anything but a dream. But, in a strange sense of the word, Merlin found himself to be as helpless now as he had been when the two goons had been holding him down …his body too sore and aching for him to move out of this bed. Lying there with his husband watching over him, with no uncle there to act as a buffer should it all go to hell between them. 

The consort blinked… this long and slow blink, which made Merlin feel as if Arthur was watching him as closely as he was watching the prince.

Lying flat on his stomach on top of his bed, with Arthur on his little stool…

It has been a long time since Merlin had been in such a vulnerable position like this, where it would have been next to impossible for Merlin to try and fight his husband should Arthur try and get handsy with him again. But… thought Merlin as he continued eyeing the prince as best as he could when he had his face all but pressed against the side of his very flat pillow… Arthur wasn’t a man that’d do that. He’d gone nearly three months without laying a hand on Merlin—besides an isolated time here or there, though none of which had been to hurt him. The prince has instead spent those three months taking out his rage on any other person that had disrespected or hurt Merlin in some manner. He had killed the men that had done worse to Merlin than even Arthur had ever done. And he’s still bloody here. Merlin couldn’t imagine that he had been much entertainment for the prince when he had been unconscious and all but dead to the world. But it was Arthur, who was bloody obsessed with him… He might like spending most of his night sitting in an uncomfortable chair and watching Merlin when he was too out of it to complain about it properly. There was a heat that was starting to build underneath Merlin’s skin… he couldn’t imagine what Arthur had done to pass the time when he had been watching him. Had he spent that time just petting Merlin’s hair… like a dog that needed the attention? Or had he tried to do other things that… Merlin couldn’t imagine anything else that may’ve been more annoying or embarrassing than the idea of Arthur touching his hair, which was so coated in sweat that it felt as if it was being weighed down to his ears. 

“…I thought you were still ignoring me.”

It was more of a statement that fell from Merlin’s lips than it had been anything else. A way for Merlin to try diffusing the tension that was refusing to release from his body and lingered in the air… he wanted Gaius to come bursting into the room so that he could give Arthur the perfect excuse to leave while he still could. Arthur had done his ‘husbandly duty’ by pulling Merlin out of the horrid situation that he had been caught up in, but now that it was over, he could go and pretend that nothing was wrong. Just like he had done with Morgana. Now that she was healed and was going to make a full recovery, he didn’t want one thing to do with her anymore. Which was more disappointing than the consort would have thought it would be… He never got to see his husband being a real human being instead of the crude man he’s always been. The change of pace has been… nice… that night when Merlin had pushed himself into Arthur’s bed chambers and made himself at home, before that had also blown up. But the prince wasn’t going to abandon Merlin like he had Morgana. It was Merlin who Arthur was… fascinated by? Desperate to be around? Stalking until he knew of Merlin’s each and every movement? Yeah… Arthur wasn’t going anywhere until Merlin made him, but considering he couldn’t move an inch without the flare of pain striking him as if he was still being struck by that dreaded whip… he was stuck here. And like hell was he going to be stuck here in silence while Arthur was staring at him.

“I think that we… both knew that me making that suggestion was a stupid idea and that I wasn’t going to keep up with it. The contract I had you sign was just to make sure I had something to remind myself whenever the… urge to go find you would start becoming too strong for me to ignore.” Arthur murmured after a long moment, his hands going tight around the goblet between his hands as if he was admitting something vulnerable in front of Merlin. And Merlin’s brows—probably the only thing on his entire body that he could move without feeling like he was about to throw up—furrowed into the center of his forehead. Merlin had… perhaps he had more than a few questions about Arthur’s odd obsession with him. Arthur was speaking like his obsession was some kind of compulsion that he could not control, something that Arthur ‘needed.’ And why exactly was that? Why did Arthur feel the need to play hero for him? To chase him down to the ends of the earth even after Merlin acts out to get him to go away. People had literally walked away from Merlin in the past because he was too annoying for them, considering how much he talked or got himself into situations that any other person would have been able to avoid. And yet… Arthur was always there when he had every excuse under the sun to leave Merlin to figure out his own problems. What made Merlin so special when Morgana, somebody Arthur had actually grown up with, couldn’t even get half of that attention? “Perhaps I will …tear up the contract whenever I return back to my rooms, with your permission, of course. Since it doesn’t look as if it’s working out, there’s really no point for me to keep something like that around. And after… after what happened to you just now, I don’t really want to have something like that around. Maybe if I was not trying to spend my time avoiding you, then… maybe I could have prevented this from happening.”

Arthur’s eyes roamed a little down south, towards Merlin’s back, and the flush of warmth that flooded Merlin’s face made it impossible for the consort to actually ignore this time. It was the closest that either of them had said anything about what had happened to Merlin… about what he had gone through and what the prince had done to avenge him. It almost felt like it was a forbidden topic and something that neither of them should be the first to approach. But it was just now hitting Merlin HARD that Arthur had seen Merlin being whipped and most likely knew what the marks on Merlin’s back looked like. Was he imagining the shape and the lines and the cuts that they had made against Merlin’s flesh? Or was he tracing their exact patterns with his eyes, even through the loose tunic Merlin was wearing? It made the consort want to squirm in his bed. He was not supposed to be humiliated! He was supposed to be… pleased… that he clearly knew the prince’s habits well enough to know he would find Merlin before any of this whipping business got worse than it was. But dealing with what would happen ‘afterwards.’ With what was happening right now. Merlin hadn’t really thought this much ahead. And with how weak his body was, Merlin could only stew in his humiliation before he nodded, averting his gaze away from the man just as Arthur was doing the same, so that they weren’t looking at each other. It wasn’t like Arthur was wrong… there was no point in them keeping around a contract that neither of them was following. And ironically, it was Merlin, who would have lived happily for a thousand years or more without Arthur coming into his life, that was just as much at fault for the contract’s failure as Arthur has been.

“I’m pretty sure those knights were going to come after me at some point… it’s not as if you can watch me at all hours of the day. And no, before you try to go and get somebody, I still refuse to have you assign one of your knights to be a bodyguard for me. I’m not giving up one of the few freedoms I have because a few bad eggs decided that they liked you better when you weren’t constantly being distracted by me. Besides, they’re dead now, so it’s not like they can try and come after me again. You would just be wasting your time and manpower on something that I don’t need and don’t want around. I’m sure that your men have better things to do than making sure their own comrades aren’t going to try and kill me off again.”

Merlin had only been murmuring this under his breath, already practically able to read the prince’s mind on the matter… This was usually the time where he’d try and get Merlin around-the-clock protection just to make sure something like ‘this’ wasn’t going to happen the next time Merlin got out of Arthur’s sight. But just because he had whip marks up and down his back didn’t change one thing about Merlin’s situation… it was still more dangerous for Merlin to have a guard watching him than it was on the off chance of something like this happening to him again. Guards who may see him doing something that he shouldn’t be able to do… guards reporting their findings to Arthur… maybe even cutting his head off themselves before he could continue ‘inflicting’ his sorcery on Camelot. He could handle things like this whipping just fine. What Merlin couldn’t handle was somebody he didn’t know or trust discovering what he was and what he could do. The risk was just too high, and when Merlin glanced back up, he could see in the tight squeeze of Arthur’s hands around the goblet and the tight clench of his jaw that he wasn’t happy. But of course Arthur wasn’t happy… he always just went straight to Merlin being guarded. It was pretty much the answer for every little incident that happened to Merlin. But having a guard for one day was not the same as always having a guard near him… Merlin wasn’t going to relent on this issue no matter what Arthur thought about it. And it wasn’t like Merlin was able to explain his reasonings… not to Arthur.

And so… Merlin exploded… just a little.

“WILL YOU STOP BLOODY LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?!” The consort started to yell at Arthur, raising himself up just a bit so that he no longer had his face pressed into his pillow, ignoring the sharp sting that echoed down his back as his cuts pulled. But the offended look on Arthur’s face only fueled him more. It was an anger that Merlin needed to hold onto… it felt better to be angry than to feel the pain of his wounds trying to pull him down. “You ALWAYS look as if I am making the stupid decisions, but I’m not! I didn’t make the stupid decision when I decided to leave my room after I was poisoned because it saved YOUR damn treaty. And I didn’t make the stupid decision when I first decided not to go to YOUR trial against Bryon and Julian simply because it would’ve been my decision not to go. And if I don’t want my freedom restricted because I have a guard constantly trailing behind me, then again, it’s not your business! I won’t be broken down because of this incident! I’m going to heal, and I’m going to be back on my feet before you bloody well know it, so stop looking at me as if I’m broken and I need the extra help just to get around!”

If there was one thing that happened because of this incident, then it would be Merlin making sure that Arthur stopped looking at him as if he were some kind of victim just because he was a magnet for maniacs. This was hardly the worst thing Merlin had ever faced since coming to Camelot, though… It was hard for him to think about anything else that could have topped this right now. But it’s not the point! The point was, Arthur kept thinking that Merlin actually needed him. And he didn’t! The only reason Merlin hadn’t used his magic to get out of the situation was because he KNEW Arthur would be near. Merlin had used the prince as a means so that Merlin wouldn’t get caught if he did use his magic to get out of the whipping. He had USED Arthur. Just like all of those times where Merlin had been used because he was the ‘consort’ and the royal family needed him to act his part. It was a give-and-take relationship they had. Merlin was just simply ‘taking’ what he was due after everything he’s been forced into dealing with for all these months. And there was nothing wrong with that, so it didn’t matter what Arthur personally thought about the situation. Being placed under a thousand whippings were still safer than what would happen if he got caught by some unsuspecting guards.

“I… I don’t like it when you talk about yourself like that. When you act as if you are being treated differently just because of something horrible that has happened to you.” Arthur finally spoke up, sounding as if it was a struggle to contain himself, but Merlin was sure he was angrier than he was letting on. His ‘husband’ had a grip around the goblet that was so tight, the consort was truly surprised that the metal itself hadn’t shattered underneath the pressure it was under. “I’m not treating you like you’re broken or like you’re delicate or any of the million other words you might use to describe what is happening. You are my husband, whether you like it or not, and I am simply trying to treat you with the same care that anybody would treat their husband after something horrible happened to them. If that makes me stupid, then fine, I guess I’m stupid. But I am not going to feel bad for wanting to put measures into place to prevent any situation like this from happening again. You’re NOT broken… you’re—" Here is when Arthur looked away, a flush brimming on his face that even Merlin was able to see from his stuck position on the mattress. “Far stronger and braver than I have ever given you credit for in the past. But that doesn’t mean you can just tell me to take a step back from this and let people continue hurting you!” 

Merlin blinked… and he blinked some more… And he blinked some more. Was it just him, or had Arthur, in his typical Arthur fashion, just given Merlin an actual compliment? Usually, when Arthur said something ‘nice’ to him, it was towards his looks. That Merlin was ‘cute’ just because he had traded in his clothes for the noble ones that everybody was trying to force him into. Which was usually something that Merlin would find patronizing, the couple of times that Arthur’s actually said it. But how often did Arthur swallow his damn pride and actually admit that Merlin wasn’t as useless as people used to say he was? It had a nice ring to it… being brave. Though "brave" was also a relative term… why did Merlin have to be brave just because he wanted to be himself? He should not have to risk himself like he had with this whipping just so he could continue to play at being a normal human being. But… this was Arthur, and Arthur was not used to saying things that did not benefit him in any way. Which was curious; at least that was something Merlin was willing to give to the man as he watched Arthur pushing himself up onto his feet. There was agitation in Arthur’s body language, and Merlin made an aborted sound of protest when the prince was suddenly pulling open the top drawer of his bedside table, needing to jerk at it for a second when it got stuck like it always did. 

Perhaps, like Merlin often did, Arthur was finding that he needed something to do with himself that didn’t include just sitting there and letting Merlin continue to scrutinize him. Because, and Merlin just now noticed that the goblet Arthur had used for Merlin’s drink was rimmed in blue gemstones, the same goblet he had received from King Bayard, but he had no reason to use it, so it sat all day in Merlin’s drawer; the prince seemed to be simply replacing the goblet. Simply placing it back where he had found it when he was scrambling to find anything to use when Merlin had first started coughing. So at least Arthur wasn’t trying to take advantage of Merlin’s weakened state by digging around in his drawers for whatever might interest him. Or… at least Arthur hadn’t started rummaging around in his drawers until now, the consort’s eyes going wide when the prince stopped closing the drawer midway. His gaze fastened onto something that was inside, and Merlin was pretty sure that it wasn’t the blue gemstones lining the top of his goblet that had caught the prince’s eye.

“Hey! What are you—“

Merlin cut himself off, hissing when he tried to force himself to raise further up on the bed, but it felt as if he couldn’t move more than two inches. These weren’t the ideal circumstances for Merlin to throw Arthur out… why did his uncle have to leave Merlin with Arthur bloody Pendragon?! The one man in all the kingdom who has never been taught about boundaries and personal property and… The consort stopped that line of thought when Arthur reached inside of the drawer instead of jumping to help Merlin at the first sight of his discomfort. Picking up something that Merlin couldn’t quite see, rolling the small item around with his much larger fingers, the consort felt the swell of panic rising up inside of his chest. Merlin’s mind was blank, unable to remember exactly what he’s kept in that drawer other than the goblet, but… It couldn’t have been anything that was related to magic. Merlin has gotten pretty good—falling into the habit—of making sure his magical belongings are hidden beneath the floor. He would not have been stupid enough to just leave something inside of a drawer… would he? It’s not as if Merlin would have expected for Arthur to be looking through them, considering the prince pretty much never visited Merlin in his room. He was only here now because it was an extreme circumstance, what with all the welts and such scattered across Merlin’s back…

“Um… sorry. I… I suppose it’s just been a… a long time since I’ve seen this.”

Arthur finally stuttered out when he noticed Merlin’s keen glare aimed at him, but before Merlin had the chance to open his mouth and demand to know what the prince was talking about… Merlin stopped when he finally made out what Arthur was cradling so carefully in his much larger hand. The ring. The ring he had been given the day he and Arthur had been forcibly married. The silver bit of metal with the stupid little red dragon carved into his metal that seemed to be winking in his direction every time the light hit it the right way. And his face went tight. It had been a long time since Merlin had seen that ring. He’d almost forgotten that this drawer was where he was keeping all his ‘Pendragon gifts’ that weren’t clothing to be stored away. Merlin had been hoping that he would never have to see that stupid ring again, considering it was nothing more than a reminder about the worst times of his life. But the way Arthur was eyeing the piece of metal was… strange. Was it just Merlin’s imagination—or had the hits to his face damaged his skull more than he thought it had—or had Arthur gone soft? There was just something about his eyes that… weren’t looking as crazy as they always seemed to be whenever Merlin was involved. Weird… but then again, Arthur’s always been the weird sort. So that was nothing new…

“Um… yeah… I just… I should… um… probably put this… put this up.” The blond suddenly stuttered, fumbling too many words in a stuttered heap that Merlin was barely able to understand, as if he was just now snapping himself out of the odd trance he seemed to have fallen into. But Merlin was relieved when Arthur did actually put the ring back into the drawer… It had been like slipping into some alternate universe seeing Arthur playing around with HIS ring. It was enough to see Arthur was still wearing his, even after all these months since he’d started wearing it full time. But… something was still off about Arthur. Something was still strange about him, the way his hands clenched around the drawer handle even after he had closed it shut. The way he was staring down as if something had upset him… the prince shook his head as a breath escaped him. “I almost feel like we’re under some sort of curse. As if nothing ever seems to be getting better! I mean, at first, we had to deal with Morgana and all the struggle that came from that when we thought she was about to die! And she’s going to get better now, so that’s great, but the day we get the news is also the exact same day that you happen to get attacked! How could these two events happen just so close together? And it’s like… what’s going to be the next thing that we will have to face? What do we have to do to make sure that everybody will survive through it? Life should be getting better, easier. It shouldn’t be getting harder …you can’t even bring yourself to wear our damn ring. And I can’t bear to see you constantly getting hurt like this.” 

Arthur darted his eyes back down—once again—over to where Merlin’s injuries were beneath his tunic, and the constant curled his fingers into tight balls over the sheets. Arthur had sounded so lost, as if he was trying to wrap his head around everything that had gone down in the last twenty-four hours. And yet, it’s Merlin that had sustained the injuries and was going to be out of commission for who knows how long it would take for him to heal enough to be able to get himself moving. And it was Morgana that Merlin had held for hours before this had happened to him, while she had cried because Arthur had all but abandoned her the very first second that he could get away with it. Perhaps it wasn’t like Morgana to cry over something like that, and she was just being sensitive and hormonal because of the stress her body had been going through over the last few days, but she had still cried! And that only showed Merlin how much she’d been hurt. Arthur could be a really selfish prat, but Morgana didn’t deserve to be left behind while Arthur went about still talking as if he genuinely cared for her and what she had gone through. If he had cared one whit about her, then he would have stayed in Morgana’s room with them. He would have done far more than turn tail and run the second that his father was no longer there to fuss at him about ‘being where he was needed’ or whatever the king would say if he’d known Arthur was more concerned about himself than the family.

“You… What do you even know about anything that’s going on? You can’t come in here and get all weird about a stupid ring that I told you months ago I’m not interested in wearing just because you pulled me out of a bad situation! I’d be more than happy to just be here alone and wait until Gaius came back before I got your help for anything else! It’s not like anybody else needs to be killed off today, so your services aren’t exactly required anymore.” Merlin hissed, trying to once again push himself back up, though he probably made a pitiful display as his weak arms were unable to hold him up and he fell straight back down to the bed once again. And Arthur made some kind of move, as if he was about to come and help Merlin sit up, but no! Merlin didn’t want his help, nor did Merlin need it. Maybe Merlin did feel ridiculous and tiny with Arthur standing up over him like he was, but somebody had to tell Arthur just how selfish he was being! How horribly he had behaved! How absolutely barbaric! “If you truly wanted to make yourself useful, then you would have done it by going to see Morgana for once! It’s funny how quickly you show up whenever it’s my life that is in danger, and yet, you can’t even bother to do more than the bare minimum for her. Just because you were human enough to sit by her bed when she was unconscious doesn’t mean that it’s all that you can do! I mean, you are going to stay sitting at my side even when I’m awake and am telling you that you are free to go any time, but you can’t be bothered to utter more than two words to her! She was so upset with you, Arthur! She thought you were her friend! I know the two of you have issues, but we’ve got issues too, you know! And yet, you always seem to be making time to make some more between us, and yet, you leave her out in the cold. And just when I was thinking, well… I suppose it doesn’t matter what I was thinking anymore.”

Merlin finishes what he was saying with a scoff, turning his head around so he wouldn’t have to look at Arthur anymore, not wanting the prince to see exactly how much of a fool Merlin had been. He and Arthur only had ONE half-decent conversation when the two of them had been in a very vulnerable position and trying to figure out how to deal with Morgana’s illness on their own. Merlin had been the one to mistake Arthur’s behavior as… being human. Beating up all of those training dummies and sitting by Morgana’s side when she slept and just trying to hold himself together when he wasn’t near her… those were things he had found human Arthur capable of doing. But he had disappeared the second Morgana had opened up her eyes for the first time in a week. And Merlin didn’t see enough of that side of Arthur to do something as ridiculous as ‘mourn’ the loss of him. But he did wish that he could punch some sense into Arthur. How hard would it have been for him to sit by her for an hour or two?! Even Uther had done more than Arthur, and if there was anybody that could have actually been more emotionally constipated than the prince was, it would’ve been his father. 

“Wait, wait, wait! First off, Gaius left me here to make sure that nothing would go wrong with you while he was gone, so I’m not leaving no matter how much I hear you say it! I’ve left you enough times, and I’m done with it, but at least we can say your mouth wasn’t as hurt as the rest of you was.” Arthur threw out in a rush, and Merlin scoffed, still refusing to look at the prince. His headboard is something that was far more interesting than hearing Arthur going off on more spirals! Nothing Arthur said was going to change the fact that Merlin had held Morgana while she had been crying, after she had nearly died! The tunic that he’d been wearing when he had been attacked probably still had tear stains on the fabric! Nothing about that was okay! Arthur could continue his mind games and following Merlin around as if it was his life’s mission, but messing around with Morgana was going a step too far for Merlin! “And what do you mean that Morgana was upset with me?! Morgana… The only time that Morgana has ever been upset with me in the last few recent months was when you were involved, and I haven’t done anything to you! I mean… I haven’t, right? I’ve not gone and done something to you that I don’t know about, right?”

Merlin could feel the swell of his temper starting to rise inside his chest once again, tearing through the exhaustion that weighed heavily at his limbs. That’s the classic Arthur move. Ignore everything that Merlin was actually saying and jump focus straight onto whatever issue they were having this week, but he was sore and aching, and his back flared up with pain every time he moved too sharply, and yet, Arthur was still focused on him instead of Morgana! Merlin is not the only person in Arthur’s life! There were other people that Arthur’s been NEGLECTING because he was too caught up in Merlin! All of these cuts on his back were nothing in the long run of things! Merlin’s scars were going to heal up eventually, but just like the memories of what had happened to him, this is something that was going to stay with Morgana. She was going to know Arthur would rather spend his time stuck to Merlin’s backside than doing other things that were, arguably, more important than Merlin getting hurt again. He already had his uncle, so what did he really need Arthur for? All of ‘this’ that they were doing right now wasn’t exactly good for Merlin’s condition, but if his husband was going to stand there and ask stupid questions, then wasn’t it Merlin’s role to inform him how stupid he was being? Arthur had certainly never held back when he had thought Merlin was doing something.

“I think that you need to wake up and realize that not everything is about me or whatever we have going on between us! I’m sure Morgana doesn’t care one whit about how you are going to explain to her about why you haven’t stopped long enough to go see her yet, and trust me, once she is able to get out of her bed, you are probably going to be the first stop that she makes!” Merlin spoke as incredulously as he could, finally turning as much as his body was going to allow him to so that he could look at Arthur. But when he saw that Arthur was opening his mouth again to do one of his stupid protests again, Merlin quickly snipped that in the bud. “And don’t you tell me being in the same room that all of us were in when she first woke up counts as a visit. Because let me tell you straight up that it isn’t! You didn’t ask her if she was okay or if she needed you to do anything or even sit by the damn bed with her so that she could have a familiar face while she got her bearings back! I was the one that did that! And I was the one that held her when she was upset about you leaving, and the one that watched her clean up her face because we both already knew that you’ve disappeared and weren’t coming back anytime soon! Now go ahead and try to tell me what kind of excuse you have for not being there for her the one single time that she may have actually needed you!”

It was like Merlin’s own body—broken and bleeding and weak as it was—didn’t matter after having been faced with Morgana’s pain. This barely even fazed him! Merlin couldn’t even count how many times he’s been hurt since he arrived in Camelot, or how many times he’s had to deal with his joints aching him so much that it caused pain flashes just to move. But Merlin had never, in all the time he’s known her, seen Morgana cry. And that was Arthur’s fault… it was just another reason for Merlin to detest the prince. How easily the blonde-haired man could throw away everything… It was so easy for a man who's never had nothing. But Merlin’s been nothing! And Arthur… Merlin wished that it was possible for him to drag himself out of this bed and drag Arthur straight to Morgana’s chambers so that he could apologize to her properly. But as the fates would have it, Merlin couldn’t do anything more than watch Arthur after he had started pacing the room, running a slow hand down the side of his face before squeezing at his jawline. Gathering his thoughts? Or simply thinking about the best excuse he could use to get out of this. If Arthur was ‘insisting’ that he had to stay until Gaius was back, then damn it, Merlin was going to make the other man as uncomfortable as he was.

“Do you even know when the last time I talked to Morgana was?”

Merlin stopped short when Arthur, who had stopped his pacing when he got to the footboard of Merlin’s bed, raised an eyebrow at the prince. It sounded like a pretty stupid question. How the hell was Merlin supposed to know when the prince last talked to Morgana? Merlin had a life of his own that he always tried to keep as separate from the prince’s as he possibly could. Merlin did not even talk to Morgana about Arthur most days. It was like an unspoken rule among them and Gwen whenever they would get together, except for the odd isolated incident here and there. But other than that, they didn’t want the prince’s presence—whether he was actually there or not—to bring them down. When they got together, it was their time! But Arthur probably thought that the three of them did nothing but talk about him all day long, as if they didn’t get enough of him whenever he actually did bother to show his bloody face around them. Or whenever there was a feast or party—the city seemed to have them all the time—that was happening, and Arthur was bothering them again simply because he needed Merlin. And yet, once again… never Morgana? When would she get his attention? When would he stop being an arse and realize that she’s an important part of their lives… Nobody had EVER defended Merlin as fiercely as she had. Or at least nobody had until Arthur had started killing people in his name, but Arthur had always been intense with how he reacted to even the far more minor things…

“Exactly, Merlin!” Arthur was suddenly exclaiming, snapping Merlin away from his thoughts and bringing his attention back to the blond prince, who suddenly looked far more frazzled than he usually does. Hair a twisted mess as if he had spent hours yanking at the strands… Had he been doing that while the consort had been unconscious to the world? “I don’t know when the last time I actually spoke to Morgana was?! Do you know why that is? Because I haven’t talked to her in such a long time! And the last time that we did, I can tell you that it was not pleasant! But it’s almost like I’m talking to you when I’m talking to her! Not a single thing that I say makes her happy, and to be honest, I get that! I was an arse to you, and Morgana was the only person in a position that could try to be the one to set me straight! But did I ever listen to her? No, I didn’t! She’d start screaming at me about whatever I did that week that hurt you, and I would just scream back and try to defend myself, as if there was anything that could have been defensible about what I did to you! The last time we talked was probably a fight about you and how I treated you. That’s how it’s been between us since the day you walked into our lives, and I don’t see how anything can change that situation!”

By the time Arthur was done ‘explaining’ himself, he was breathing hard, as if it had been exhausting to place the blame at Merlin’s feet. The consort bore this affronted expression on his face, the bruises lining his cheek and jawline only making him grimace in pain. But the pain did not erase the disbelief… Arthur is not going to stand there and blame Merlin for him being dysfunctional! He was not going to stand there and act as if Merlin was in any way at fault for where the relationship between Arthur and Morgana had gone. If Arthur wasn’t such a horrible person, then Morgana would have never felt the need to come after him as hard as she did! If Arthur hadn’t pushed Merlin until he nearly broke into a thousand pieces, then again, Morgana would have never felt the need to try defending him from the prince. It was Arthur, always Arthur, and why couldn’t Arthur just accept that! Arthur found it so easy to admit he was wrong to treat Merlin like he did, but he couldn’t admit that he was the reason that Morgana had started pulling away from him! It was hardly Merlin’s fault that Morgana’s gotten smart enough to realize fighting with Arthur was often more of a waste of time than it wasn’t! 

“Arthur,” Merlin started through gritted teeth, clenching his hands around his pillow as he angled his head the best that he could to keep Arthur in his sight, and it was infuriating to see how Arthur seemed to notice this when the blond moved so that he was more in line with Merlin’s head than his feet. “What your problem is with Morgana is not because of me! It’s because you couldn’t find it in yourself to handle all the times she said you were wrong about me! Just try and think back to those days, when every time she came to you about me, you were ready to start something with her over it! It’s because you weren’t ready to hear her! YOU! Not me! I may have been the topic of conversation, but I was not the one that’s at fault here. Wait till Gaius gets back here if you want, since I surely can’t do anything to make you leave. But you need to go and see her as soon as possible because she NEEDS you! Morgana’s never going to admit this, but she does. And are you two not some kind of family? Even if you absolutely hate each other, you need to be there when she needs you! Morgana shouldn’t have to sit around up there and wonder whether or not you care about her. She should already know that you do, no matter how many fights you have towards the other!”

Arthur went quiet after Merlin was done, his lips going so thin that the consort could see the color turning white. And he honestly didn’t know whether or not he was getting through to Arthur here. Everything Merlin was saying could be going in one ear and straight out the other, but that wasn’t the point. Just the fact that Merlin had said it was important! Merlin could be there for Morgana all day long—well, not right now, when he couldn’t leave his bed—but the truth of the matter was this… Merlin wasn’t her family. Oh, sure, they could continue to get closer and closer and closer in the future until it felt like they were really a family. But Merlin WASN’T. Merlin’s family was his uncle and his mother, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. But Arthur ‘was’ Morgana’s family and had been ever since the day the king decided to bring her to their castle and make her their family. And there was no doubt in Merlin’s mind, if it had been Arthur that had gotten sick instead of Morgana, then she would have been there. Even if it was simply a ‘call me if you need me because I’m straight down the hall,’ it was still more than what Arthur had offered her.

“Merlin, don’t you get it—” Arthur finally started to say, cutting himself off and trying to start again, only to stop before he could get the first word to leave his lips. And Arthur shook his head… it looked as if he was seriously struggling to find the words that he wanted to say. “I… I’m not… blaming you for what’s going on between us. That’s not what I… what I am trying to say at all. I simply mean that… I can’t… be in that room with her. I wasn’t as cruel to Morgana as I was with you, but I was still… so mean to her. I screamed at her each and every time she brought you up. Without fail! It was like something just went off in my head whenever she spoke your name, and I wanted to fight about it. I can’t just go to her room and sit there as if nothing’s happened! I can’t pretend as if I did not say awful things to her! How am I supposed to look her in the eye when all I did was try to hurt her? If I wasn’t able to calm myself down just long enough to listen to her and let her know that she was right, then how do I know that I won’t blow up at her again? Hell, you know—“ And here, Arthur cut himself off with a laugh that was on just the wrong side of deranged. “A long time ago, I had a conversation with her where she basically said that I would regret how I treated you one of these days. And yeah, she was right. I do regret it, and you still don’t even believe half of the things that I say. So why would she bother to believe I genuinely want to help her if I did go?”

And, well then… Merlin was stumped.

Genuinely stumped.

And more than a little surprised when Arthur dropped down heavily at the foot of his bed, hanging his head down somewhere between his knees and putting his hands behind his head as if it was perfectly normal for him to be on top of Merlin’s bed. Merlin glanced towards the doorway, half-hoping that Gaius was going to take the moment to burst through that door and break up whatever is going on now, but luck had never been on Merlin’s side, and the door kept shut stubbornly. And… what was Merlin supposed to do now? The last thing he was expecting was for Arthur to want to suddenly have a ‘heart-to-heart.’ Merlin is injured! That should have been enough to stave off these important talks until he was at least able to stand up on his own! So he wasn’t on his stomach while something like THIS was going on. But… Merlin stubbornly bit down on his lip as he observed Arthur. He had to admit that… he hadn’t been expecting what he heard. Merlin would have thought that Arthur would have thrown a million or so excuses his way about how he was ‘so’ busy with Merlin and the kingdom that he couldn’t possibly waste a single afternoon of his life sitting beside that woman. And yet, Arthur had expressed a real problem to him. Had gone and expressed something that he was genuinely worried about. It was still scary to see Arthur reverting to something that actually resembled a human being. But Merlin was still so used to seeing Arthur as the monster that seeing anything else was always going to make Merlin pause for a minute just to take that in.

Was Merlin supposed to actually help Arthur now?

No… he was doing this for Morgana, not for Arthur.

“Well,” Merlin started awkwardly, not entirely sure what he was supposed to tell Arthur now. Fussing at each other… that was something that Merlin was used to doing. But this whole actual ‘talking to each other’ thing was a complication that was all its own. Merlin didn’t know HOW to talk to Arthur, and he definitely didn’t want to do it. Especially after the night that he’s had. But… remember… it was for Morgana, after all. “Maybe it would help if you went to her room just to see her anyway and do this thing called ‘apologizing.’ I hear that it actually does go a long way for some people. I mean, I think we both know that it’s not something that works on me, but perhaps Morgana will give you another time to prove yourself different if you actually put yourself out there. You can even be the one that tells her she was right about this whole regretting thing. I have heard that girls like it when you tell them that they’re right.”

Merlin had been being dead serious about this… He knew that it’s always given him a certain thrill whenever Arthur would swallow his pride and admit that the consort knew very much what he was talking about. And he couldn’t see Lady Morgana Le Fey being much different in that regard. The hardest part would’ve been Arthur actually admitting it. Though Merlin was quite startled when there was a soft… The consort blinked and raised his head off the bed more firmly as the soft chuckle reached his ear. Had that been… was Arthur laughing at him… no. Not at him, Merlin realized as he saw the gentle crinkle in the corner of the prince’s eyes. Arthur was laughing because… he thought Merlin’s comment on girls was… funny? Had Arthur EVER laughed at something that Merlin said to him before? Merlin couldn’t remember a time in which something like that had happened. The few times Merlin had heard Arthur laugh, it had always been to be mean. Cruel laughter. Mocking laughter. Angry laughter because he wasn’t able to be more done with their conversation than he was then. But never had it been… genuine laughter. It actually wasn’t that bad of a laugh, was the dark forbidden thought that crept into the back of the consort’s mind. The way that it was as deep as Arthur’s voice. Something that could make a man warm from the inside out… if they were into that sort of thing. Which Merlin wasn’t… 

“You really think that it would be that easy when apologizing has never worked on you?”

Arthur’s voice had gone quiet and soft, raising his head but not looking toward Merlin as he clenched his hands together on top of his knees. Merlin could not get his voice to work, though, nodding his head a little baffled. He’s still trying to get his mind wrapped around the whole… Arthur actually cared about what Morgana thought of him and didn’t know how to face her, but that happened just now. Still trying to wrap his mind around the whole… Arthur did care about Morgana but simply didn’t know how to show that he did. And then there was the whole… laugh… thing. Since when did Arthur loosen up enough to do such a thing with Merlin, of all people? Perhaps he had forgotten that it was Merlin that he was talking to, but… no. Arthur would have never forgotten that it was Merlin he was with. He was just being… uncharacteristically open today. Just like he had been when it had just been them in Arthur’s bedchambers… it was almost the exact same scene, in a way. Only they were in Merlin’s this time, and he was hurt. But other than that…well…Merlin could only assume that this one was not going to end with Arthur throwing Merlin out on his backside.

“I can’t believe that I am talking about this with you, of all people. But… it’s not like I am going to have a conversation like this with anybody else. Nobody else would even begin to understand what’s been going on, let alone actually keep up with what’s going on.” Arthur suddenly said, breaking the silence with this mighty groan as he leaned forward, cupping the back of his head once again with his hands. And… should Merlin be offended by that? Did Arthur think that Merlin would turn his back on this when it was something that could very well help Morgana? Or did he think that Merlin would turn his back on HIM… which was always a very real possibility? Something that could happen at the drop of a hat… Arthur laughed again. More to himself than anything that Merlin said to him. Something that was more strained… if Merlin was really stuck in this bed, then did he have to also be tormented by Arthur’s self-deprivation? “I mean, it was just last week that you thought I was planning your murder when we were away from the city, and now here I am, asking for advice on how I can possibly approach Morgana… she wasn’t really crying, right? I mean… Morgana doesn’t cry like… ever. Maybe once a year on the anniversary of her parent’s death, but never when she’s actually in front of somebody…”

Merlin’s jaw dropped a little… For one, he wasn’t going to get into Morgana’s crying habits with Arthur. He may have opened that door by mentioning it first, but that was also so insanely private… he would have been pissed if someone talked to Arthur about all of the times that he’s cried because of him over the last few months. But seriously… Arthur was going to go there and bring up the ONE little mistake that Merlin happened to make. It was hardly his fault that his husband was the perfect suspect for Merlin’s attempted murder! That had way more to do with Arthur and how he behaved than it did with how Merlin’s been forced to think. If somebody abused you, then wouldn’t they be your very first assumption if somebody was trying to kill you? Arthur was… Arthur! And Merlin refused to go back and try ‘apologizing’ for that whole unfortunate event! That bloody prince shouldn’t act like a psycho if he didn’t want Merlin to think that way about him! Sounded simple enough, but since when had Arthur ever been the ‘simple’ type?

“At least I can admit when I was wrong about something, unlike you, who has to have every single thing pried out of your mouth before you will ever actually admit to anything. Remind me, how long did it take you before you realized you were the arsehole all this time and ‘not’ me?” Merlin commented bluntly while watching as Arthur lifted his head back up and gave him a dead-end stare. The both of them knew that it had taken UTTERLY too long before Arthur had even dared to admit the possibility that he may have been wrong about Merlin right from the start. “But considering how much I had to deal with, you would think that you would be much nicer to me these days! I mean, I might be more open towards it now that I know it’s not you trying to hide your desires to murder me where I stand. But nope. You’ve got me stuck in this bed while you go on about yourself and all that, and meanwhile, I’m still upset that you threw me out of your room the other night! That right there would have been the perfect opportunity for you to show me that you’ve ‘changed,’ as you always go on about. Forcing me to leave doesn’t exactly sound like a ‘changed’ man, but hey, I’m sure your words will still work on Morgana as long as you say them like you mean it.”

Merlin’s words had a bit of a bite to them, the agitation coming from his welts as they rubbed against the soft fabric of the tunic finally starting to smack him hard in the face, but he still found it in himself to be fascinated when he could see how tight Arthur’s jaw went. Funny… how Arthur went on about how much he’s changed, and yet, it still always made him so mad whenever Merlin would poke at him like this. It was almost like poking a bear just so Merlin could find out how he would react. It definitely wasn’t going to be something violent… not Arthur. Not these days. But still, if Arthur wasn’t going to try and purposefully rip open his welts and force them to bleed down his back—like he might have done in the before days when he was at his worst—then what was he going to do? What would somebody like Arthur, who had violence in his blood, do when he was no longer allowed to let that temper out? And Merlin had ended up heavily hurt! So surely Arthur wasn’t going to start screaming at him when he was so weak that just lifting his head continued to feel like a huge task all by itself.

“You told me that you wanted me to hit you. I think that we should both simply agree that we have our own issues and leave it at that since we’re both going to be here for a while yet.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose when he heard the prince’s tight response and saw the way that Arthur was tightly curled into himself. The tension in the prince’s body was going more tight than it had been since Merlin had first woken up only to find himself in this weird… limbo-like state with Arthur. But Merlin couldn’t say that Arthur was exactly wrong… They both had their own issues that they were in dire need of working out, both together and separately. With Merlin having his major trust issues and constant need to feel something by diving headfirst into reckless situations, and Arthur’s compulsive need to know everything that he could about Merlin while balancing his anger issues… it was toxic energy at its finest. Where one wrong move could topple them into the pits of no return, if they weren’t already at that point. But Merlin huffed through his nose, letting his head flop back down onto the pillow as he tried rolling the stiffness deep in his shoulders that’s been growing harder and harder to ignore for a little while now. The constant jabs of his wounds are starting to feel less like little pinpricks and more like hot jagged knives piercing the delicate skin of his body over and over and over again. But Merlin’s been fighting through the pain… he knew that he could keep fighting through it until Gaius came back and he could ask to be given something that would numb the pain so that he at least wouldn’t be able to feel what those monsters had done to him.

“Do you want to know what a really fucked up issue that I had recently?” asked Merlin, scrunching up his face in pain and discomfort before forcing himself to relax before Arthur could see it when the prince turned back around, wearing a mildly curious expression. And at least there was one good thing about Arthur …the prince was always able to give Merlin a distraction when he needed one. Being agitated or starting a fight or even having a halfway decent conversation would always be better than the shooting pains that were starting to go up and down his spine like razor blades were biting into his skin. GOD, why was it only now starting to hurt this much? It hadn’t hurt like this when Merlin had first gotten woken up, but the consort laughed through the pain. Scrunching up his face to once again hide the grimace that he was making as he struggled with what he was trying to say. “I… I knew that you were… you were going to come and drag those… those men off of me. I probably could have… run a thousand different times or… or tried to fight them off harder than I did. But I was surrounded by them, and… they were stronger than me… and… every time the whip caught me on the back, I kept thinking that this would be the time where you showed up and got me out of it. That this would be the moment that you showed up and… bloody well saved me. Really fucked you, that is… when you think about it. How much pain you have caused me, and then me turning to you for help… I hardly believe it myself, and I remember thinking about it. But you did… because you are my stalker, and you are always going to show up whether I want you to or… or not.”

It was hard for Merlin now not to remember the only thing that had given him some fucked-up semblance of comfort when he had been being attacked. But the expression that was on Arthur’s face was unreadable, and the consort was starting to feel his eyes closing. There was really no escaping the pain that’s in his back, but there was also no escaping the fact that Merlin had used the man in what was arguably one of the worst moments of his life. Though the consort barely noticed at first when Arthur finally made a move, pushing himself from Merlin’s bed. But the next time that Merlin managed to force his eyes open—he could hardly remember closing them when a flash of fire had coursed its way up into his shoulder blades—Arthur had already moved. Sitting on his knees on Merlin’s floor that creaked so ominously underneath the strain that it was truly a miracle that Arthur didn’t fear he would go falling through the floor. Merlin’s brows crinkled again… Arthur wasn’t touching him this time, but he was still a little too close now. Gazing down at Merlin with those serious eyes of his, and so focused on his face instead of worrying about silly things like his injury.

“Merlin,” Arthur started slow and cautious, and the consort squinted up at him from his pillow… The ability to lift his head back up suddenly seemed as if it’d not be worth the effort it would take to do so. But Arthur was flicking his eyes from Merlin’s to the bruises and the marks that decorated the different areas of his face and once again returning back to his eyes. “You know that I am going to always be there whenever you need me to be. It doesn’t matter if you need me to kill somebody because they’re hurting you, or if you want me to come take a walk with you because you don’t want to go to the village alone—" Merlin gave Arthur a funny little look at that. Merlin had no interest in inviting the prince to do ‘anything’ with him. That was something that would have been reserved for the people Merlin actually wanted to be around, but Arthur didn’t stop even as he saw the expression on Merlin’s face. “But… what would you have done if I’d not shown up when I did? You call me things like ‘stalker,’ but I’m not following you around constantly. I was on my way back to the castle when I happened to find you, and that was nothing more than a coincidence. Those people… it was very likely that they were on the verge of killing you! And… I don’t know how to feel about you relying on me to be there. Please tell me that you did everything that you could do to escape?! Please tell me that you didn’t just let those men do this to you without a proper fight because you assumed I’d put a stop to it all?” 

Merlin’s jaw hung open at the desperation in Arthur’s tone, at the way the man had his fingers curled tightly around the edges of Merlin’s bed… Did the prince really think that Merlin had done nothing?! That he didn’t fight when the three men had first grabbed him? That he hadn’t tried talking his way out of this pain long before the whip had actually been introduced to his back?! Merlin thought of Arthur ONLY when it became clear to him that it was impossible to get away by the normal means. But… Merlin closed his jaw with a clink of his teeth… The consort also hadn’t used every means at his disposal. He hadn’t used magic to fight his way out of that situation. So the question was… did he allow all of this to happen to him? Merlin had the means to escape, and yet, he hadn’t tried to use it. Something had been stopping him even when all he had wanted was to lash out against the pain every time a fresh line of red had painted his back in one of the worst ways imaginable. Had it truly been because Merlin was afraid of the flames that would come for him if he was discovered? Or was it because he hadn’t wanted to condemn more people who found out what he was like? He had condemned Jacqui, whom Merlin had sentenced to death after he had seen the display that both Merlin and Ginevra had done. No… Magic hadn’t been an option for him. And with Merlin having been cornered like a rat, the only option that he had WAS Arthur showing up. And he had, so why was Arthur starting to look more and more agitated the longer that Merlin didn’t respond… The young consort hissed in agonizing pain as the bed jerked when Arthur pushed up and rose to his feet, his jaw tight.

“MERLIN! This… this isn’t something that can just go on! When you asked me to hit you the other day, I thought that was nothing more than a one-off. That it was something that was never going to happen again! And then you lie there and all but tell me that something like THIS didn’t have to happen?” Demanded the prince roughly, his clenched fists tight at his side as Merlin blinked, a little bit dumbfounded. Had Arthur taken Merlin’s silence as admittance? But Arthur also may have read Merlin’s facial expression wrong. Merlin couldn’t admit that he could have used magic to get away, but Arthur also didn’t know that it was an option for him, so… maybe he thought Merlin had seen openings where he could get away but just… didn’t take them? Because he was trusting Arthur to come, even though he had no reason to believe that the prince was even in the area? “These are all signs of you having self-destructive tendencies, Merlin. It is starting to really scare me to think that you care so little for your own life! It would take more than even a… wild hurricane to stop me from coming to you if you needed my aid, but you can’t act like I will always just show up! What are you going to do next? Wander purposely into a wolf’s den because you think I will be right behind your trail? Will you try to actually goad another knight into a fight because you WANT somebody to hit you and expect me to step in and put a stop to it? Mix around one of your uncle’s more dangerous potions while expecting me to pull you out of the way before it explodes in your face! I… that is too much, Merlin! It’s too much to think that you are putting your life second instead of treating it like the precious thing that it is! You only get one life, and I don’t want it to be cut short because you don’t take the chances that present themselves to you when you can!” 

No… nononono. Arthur had this all bloody wrong, the consort thought. He did NOT have self-destructive tendencies. This whole thing was simply being taken out of proportion, and Merlin couldn’t even protest! What was Merlin going to do? Tell Arthur that no, there hadn’t been any chances for him to get away by running because he had been cornered like a damn rat in a cage? That he had magic, and it would have been really simple to let it all out and force the three men away from him before they could lay one hand on him! But he had to say something! Who knows what Arthur—desperate and obsessed and scared that Merlin would purposely get himself into something that he couldn’t get out of by himself—would do if he thought Merlin was that kind of crazy? The kind of crazy that thought he was invincible and thought that everything would work out in the end. Yes, it had this time, because the knights that had attacked him were dead and Merlin was now on the mend, but Merlin was always finding his way into scrapes like this. What if the next incident only reinforced the idea in Arthur’s head? That Merlin was really ‘relying on Arthur,’ when he had stopped relying on Arthur for anything a long time ago. Merlin would know better than anybody out there that he only had one life to use, and he wasn’t going to go wasting it ‘every single time’ on the thought of Arthur ‘maybe’ showing up. He had been sure he would this ‘one time,’ but that had nothing to do with how sure he would be in future events!

Without thinking, Merlin tried to force himself to raise back up so that he could try and correct Arthur… The last thing he needed was something like this going back around and reaching his uncle. Which was probably the next thing Arthur would do if Merlin wasn’t going to let him keep his ‘peace and mind’ by putting a trusted guard—like one of the men that were on the contract that they’d soon be ripping up—on him. But the pain that suddenly ripped into him felt like it was scorching, and the consort cried out as the wave of agonizing pain took him to the bed, his arms collapsing beneath him. And Arthur was back, landing on his knees at Merlin’s bedside as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened and calling out his name. Merlin’s head was swimming as he tried breathing in and out through the never-ending pain. His name on Arthur’s lips sounded as if he were underwater and the prince were calling him from the surface… The back of his tunic got tugged on, pulling away from the sweat that was coating his skin sickeningly. Normally, Merlin would have started screaming about how Arthur had no sense of personal boundaries and that he hadn’t given the prince any sort of permission to try looking at his injuries. But he couldn’t do much more than press his lips into a tight line, shaking his head ‘no’ desperately, as if that would stop the fact that something was clearly wrong. And that something had to be done to make it stop! And that Arthur was literally the only one that was here… Arthur would need to leave him. He would need to leave and go find his uncle and tell him that he needed something to make the burning flashes stop trying to kill him and… Arthur’s lips were suddenly by his ear. His voice was coming out clearer and more certain, as if he was trying to keep Merlin calm, but there was fear hidden beneath that calmness. Fear—that only made Merlin shake as if he were a leaf being blown away on the breeze.

“Everything is going to be okay, Merlin. Everything is going to be alright. I was warned that you might feel pain or discomfort at some point after you wake up, but I’m going to help make it all go away. Your uncle put some numbing cream on your wounds after he stitched you up to make sure that you wouldn’t be hit by the pain the second you became aware of yourself again. All I need to do is put a fresh coating of the cream on your marks, and it will make you feel much better than you do now, alright? But I’m going to need to touch you if I do this for you. The marks on your back are in a lot of places that you won’t be able to reach on your own, especially when you can’t move as freely as you could with no cuts on you. I’m just going to… I’m just going to undo your tunic, and we can … we can get started, alright?”

Arthur was sounding nervous, as if he was just as anxious as the dark-haired boy was about what was going to happen, and the consort was only just aware of what was happening around him. There was the clink of a small jar as it was pulled out of seemingly nowhere and placed on top of Merlin’s bedside table, a container full of pink gel that Merlin barely recognized through the squinty, pained eye stare he was looking at it with. Was that the same type of cream Gaius had used on Lancelot’s wound when he had gotten injured the first day he and Merlin had met? The cream that was so good that Lancelot had been back up and running around on his feet within a few days? Merlin definitely needed just a bit of that… anything that would make the pain go away. And yet, when there was the sensation of fingers tugging on the tie of the tunic that rested behind Merlin’s neck, keeping the shirt secured to his body, the surge of panic welling in his chest nearly overcame Merlin, and a sudden burst of energy was roaring through him.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Merlin’s shriek had Arthur jerking away from him in surprise, and Merlin quickly twisted himself around so that he was more on his side, staring up at the other man with wide, doe-like eyes. He was probably going to regret moving like that soon, but… but just because Arthur had saved him didn’t mean that he wanted Arthur to be the one to help him now. Merlin was… He was all sensitive over the welts on his back, and there had only ever been a handful of times when Arthur hadn’t touched him with the intent to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. He couldn’t trust that Arthur wouldn’t only somehow make the pain worse than it was now. Merlin wouldn’t have taken his top off on a normal day! When he did not feel as gross and as sickly and as disgusting as he does now. Why would he take it off in front of somebody who thought he was ‘self-destructing’? Arthur would probably even end up making fun of Merlin for being scrawny and weak and pale. He already had self-image issues that were a mile long without there being Arthur there to add onto it.

Merlin would rather suffer through the pain than let Arthur anywhere near him.

And Merlin gripped tightly onto the chest of his tunic, staring up at Arthur as if he thought the prince might get impatient and rip it off of him.