Work Text:
As they walked down the long halls of the castle, the servants they crossed did their best to not flinch at the way green blood dripped down Arthur and Merlin’s bodies; thankfully, none of it was theirs.
And Merlin cursed any divine force — if there was any — because he would have to clean all of those clothes drenched in blood.
You see, the day had started quite normal. From a week before they had been receiving missives about a creature attacking one of the villages close to the citadel. The last letter came accompanied by a highly distraught villager who described a creature called the Crocotta.
Crocottas were creatures of magic, created when a sorcerer sacrificed a life, creating a potion with the victim’s blood, mixing it with the fangs of a hyena, and the hair of a wolf. As a creature of magic, only magic could kill it. Against his father’s protests, Arthur was able to convince him to let Merlin come, and so, the Knights of the Round Table rode off.
When they arrived, a large part of the village was destroyed. There were broken trees, huts had been destroyed, and there were at least fifteen bodies littered around the ground; men, women, and children, all alike; the creature had no preference, and it couldn’t be left alive.
Screams were heard behind a hut, and when they rushed to help, they discovered the creature. It was as tall as Percival — the tallest knight —, its skin was a dark yellow with black spots around the legs, with long hair down its spine and its head was that of a monstrous wolf. Between its jaws was the body of a woman, which was being crushed by its teeth, blood gushing down each one of the countless wounds of her body.
Upon seeing them, the beast let go of the woman, who fell like a doll to the floor, and it made no move. The beast looked at them, studying them, sniffing the air, before its eyes fell on Arthur. It opened its mouth, but against what they expected, it was a laugh that fell from it, strikingly like a human’s laugh.
After that, the battle took them almost an hour. The beast was incredibly fast, faster even than the Questing Beast. Its legs ended in sharp talons that swatted at them relentlessly. The knights formed a wall with their shields; they used their swords only when the beast gave them an opening, which was very scarce.
After searching and searching, Merlin realized that no one in the village had any kind of rope. He ran back to the fight, and with an extended arm, he muttered a spell under his breath, and quickly, the soil under the beast started to get wet — it was turning into mud —, and its paws sank into it.
With another quick muttering, the ground turned back solid, with the beast’s paws encased in it.
The beast, unable to move, wailed and bellowed, snarling and snapping at them. Merlin gave Arthur a nod, and as the price, wielding Excalibur, sank the sword into the beast’s side, Merlin summoned a lighting from the sky, with the intention of burning the beast.
Of course, that was what they hoped, but the beast’s body didn’t just burn, it exploded, dumping them all in its blood—which thankfully wasn’t acid or lethal for them.
They helped the villagers as much as they could, before mounting their horses once more and riding back home, with the promise of sending some knights to help them, come the next day.
They were just lucky enough that there was not a single lake, river, stream, or creek on their way back home; not a single place they could get cleaned in. But oh well, no one had a single scratch, and that was a victory in Merlin's book.
Their horrendous state was the reason Arthur had been able to shrug off having to present a report to the king, choosing to simply take a bath right now, and the reason why they walked down the halls, leaving a bloody green trail in their wake.
They had sent some other servants ahead to prepare the bath in Arthur’s chambers. Once they entered, in its respective place, the tub was ready with water. Merlin walked ahead of Arthur, and while he undressed himself, Merlin searched for the soap and some oils.
With a flick of his hand and a few muttered words, the water of the tub heated up to the perfect temperature.
“Ugh, may the heavens bless you for this, Merlin,” Arthur sighed, sinking into the warm water.
Merlin snorted, he took off his clothes and left them in the bloody pile. “Yes, heating bathing water, my finest feat,” he said sarcastically.
“Oi, but it’s very useful!” Arthur exclaimed with a barked laugh, “now, move your little bottom and get in here.”
Merlin rolled his eyes with a smile, “Just because is not as fat as yours doesn’t mean you need to mention it every time,” he sank in the water, facing Arthur.
“No, none of that, today,” said Arthur, and before Merlin could question him, he maneuvered Merlin’s skinnier frame so that Merlin ended up sitting in between his legs, with his back against his chest.
Arthur grabbed the soap, and raising Merlin’s left arm, he rubbed it, making little bubbles as a floral scent exploded in the air. Softly, he started to rub Merlin’s arms, one by one in long strokes, his calloused hands managing a surprising tenderness.
“I’m your servant, I’m supposed to be doing this to you,” Merlin said, reclining the back of his head on Arthur’s shoulder, relishing in his lover’s ministrations.
“If I can’t do it outside, let me pamper my lover in here,” he breathed against Merlin’s neck, making all the hairs in his body jump to stand.
“Can you imagine if your father ever saw you doting this way, all over a servant?” Merlin asked with a smile. “His heart would probably give up in the spot,” the mental image of the king’s usually stoic and angry expression was the funniest thought.
“Oh, darling, don’t threaten me with a good time,” Arthur snickered, eager to take the mantle as king so he could lift the ban on magic and show the world what Merlin meant to him.
Next, he moved his soapy hands down Merlin’s thighs, feeling the lean muscles under his palms, and appreciating the little weight Merlin had put on over the years. His hands rubbed and cleaned everything, upper thighs, inner thighs, all the way down to his calves and feet.
He made sure to leave everything clean, subtly using the soapy water to clean himself, so he wouldn't need to demand more of Merlin.
In one of his moves, he felt something rather… hard, rub against the back of his hand, and oh well, it was flattering to know that even this tired, his lover would find him arousing, but he knew both of them were far too tired to have any fun time, at least for the night.
After he was sure Merlin was clean, Arthur moved to clean himself, only to be interrupted by Merlin’s soft and gentle hands. No matter how much he argued, if he and Merlin shared a trait, it was their unshakable stubbornness, and Merlin refused to let Arthur get a bath, without being served like he deserved.
Merlin’s hands were always gentle against his skin, each rub communicating his love in that unreserved way only Merlin knew. In the intimacy of Arthur’s chambers, they could let go of all the pressure of having to pretend a certain distance existed, because Arthur was completely sure that Merlin had a home in his chest, in between his ribs, snuggly nested against his beating heart.
After Merlin’s high hygiene standards were met, Arthur’s eyes followed him as he brought the bucket filled with clean water they had set aside to clean the soap off their bodies.
With a quick muttering, Merlin softly heated the water, and cleaned them. After wrapping them in towels, Merlin guided Arthur to the bed.
With his no-nonsense voice, Merlin ordered him to lay on his stomach. Yes, ordered, because Merlin often forgot — or simply and more likely didn’t care — that it was improper to order the crown prince around unless you were the king. But Arthur knew Merlin in his entirety and was more than willing to go to the end of the world for his lover.
Taking out some of the scented oils he and Gaius had created, Merlin spread some of it in his hands, and with a soft incantation heated it a little. In seconds, the room was filled with the deliciously relaxing scent of lavender, and Arthur felt like he could finally breathe again.
With Arthur on his stomach, Merlin decided to sit on his lover's bottom. Arthur's exposed skin told the tales of their fight, purple bruises blossoming like dark roses along his shoulders and down his back to his waist, all from the relentless swipes from the Crocotta.
The moment Merlin's oily and warm hands made contact with his shoulders, a softly sighed moan escaped Arthur's mouth.
In firm but tender strokes, Merlin's fingers kneaded the knots and tension on Arthur's broad shoulders with the knowledge of each inch of skin. He traced the lines of each muscle, feeling the heat coming from them, how hard they were, and even the exhaustion in each sinew.
The light of the candles danced on Arthur's now oily skin, and even lying on his stomach, he exuded nothing but power, raw and masculine; in his weariness, he still made something tingle in the lower part of Merlin's belly.
"Can you relax for me?" Merlin murmured, his voice a soft whisper of hot breath against the skin of Arthur's neck.
Arthur's breath hitched in his throat. Merlin probably didn't know, but Arthur would put his kingdom on its knees for him, speaking like that.
A long, surrendering sigh escaped his lips as Merlin's hands moved lower, to his shoulder blades and his spine, thoroughly working his knots, unbraiding the tension in his strong muscles with just the perfect pressure, and Arthur had to bit his lips to prevent a rain of moans from coming out of them.
The soft lavender scent perfectly mixed with the flowery one that lingered after the bath, lulling Arthur's weary brain, and Merlin's ministrations could take him to the very heavens.
Merlin's hands moved with an almost reverent care, sliding down the length of Arthur's spine, pausing at the base to press gently into the muscles there. Arthur's body responded, a shiver running through him, his skin prickling with sensation as the small hairs raised.
Merlin leaned closer, his breath warm against Arthur's ear.
"You've carried so much," he whispered, his lips just brushing the shell of Arthur's ear. "Let me take some of that weight."
Arthur's response was a low, contented hum, his body melting beneath Merlin's skilled touch. The tension ebbed away, replaced by a languid warmth that spread through him, easing the aches and pains of battle. Merlin's hands moved lower still, massaging the firm muscles of Arthur's lower back, his touch both soothing and awakening.
Merlin would probably never comprehend — at least entirely — the effect he had on Arthur. How, under his solicitous touch, Arthur could finally forget about his father's quenchless presence or the heaving expectations as crown prince.
Merlin's hands paused, resting on Arthur's hips, his thumbs brushing lightly against the curve of his waist. Arthur turned his head slightly, opening his eyes to meet Merlin's gaze; steely blue against the blue of a stormy sea.
"I love you," Arthur said softly, his voice thick with emotion.
Merlin smiled, a gentle, knowing smile, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the nape of Arthur's neck.
"I love it when you get all mawkish on me," he replied, his breath warm against Arthur's skin. "My sappy knight."
With an eye roll, Arthur bucked his waist up, throwing Merlin off his bottom.
"Okay, okay! I love you too, prat," said Merlin with an impish grin, recovering his seat on the prince's bare bottom.
In silence, Merlin decided to continue his massage down Arthur’s legs, his calves, and his feet, all until Arthur was nothing but a sleepy mess, head sinking into his pillow and mumbling incoherent professions of his love for Merlin.