Work Text:
Merlin had always hated hunting. Everyone knew this, especially Arthur. But the prat always insisted on dragging him along, even if he really wasn't needed. This time had been no different.
After another lengthy and dull meeting about the affairs of the kingdom, a very grumpy Arthur had returned to his chambers and ordered Merlin to prepare for a week-long hunt. Just the two of them so Arthur could clear his mind for a few days. Something which the new King desperately needed. The hardships and stress of being King and losing his father had worn down on Arthur. Merlin could easily tell from how irritable he was as of late. So, Merlin did so without much complaint, even though he really wanted to whine about it. He knew it was better to just put up with it. Besides, it was a week alone with Arthur without anyone else bothering them. Slowly over the last year or so, Merlin had begun to realize that he had feelings for his friend. Something that he knew was just a disaster in the making. He knew there was no chance that Arthur would return these feelings, but he still hoped like the idiot he was. There were those moments when Arthur would give him a certain look or say something and part of Merlin would think, maybe, just maybe he feels the same. But in all reality, he was probably just imagining it.
Three days into the hunt and Arthur hadn't caught anything. And Merlin would admit it was partially his fault. And that only worsened Arthur's mood. His legs just didn't want to cooperate and somehow tripped on every root or rock sticking out of the ground, scaring off every bit of game they had gotten close to. Eventually, Arthur snapped at him.
"Could you be anymore useless, Merlin?!" Arthur shouted after he'd managed to trip and fall again, causing the deer Arthur had tracked into a clearing to run off. "You have never been so loud on a hunt! It's like you're purposely trying to scare away all the animals!" Merlin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. All that yelling was sure to scare off anything within a mile of them; something he would not take the blame for as it was Arthur who was yelling and not him. Prat.
"All of your yelling is probably scaring them off more than my clumsy feet," he muttered quietly. Arthur heard the comment and Merlin ended up dodging a small rock that Arthur threw at him. Unable to wipe the smirk off his face, he opened his mouth to say something else put all the came out was an agonized cry as a sharp pain shot through his abdomen and he collapsed.
Arthur was having a really bad week. First, there were all of those dreadful meetings, and now an even more miserable hunt. A hunt that was supposed to be calming him down! But thanks to his idiotic manservant, it was only aggravating him beyond the normal limits for anyone. At least Merlin had enough common sense to pack enough food supplies for several days. At this rate though, if they didn't catch anything soon, they may as well just turn back. And it was all Merlin's fault of course. The idiot couldn't be quiet to save his life. Every time Arthur was even remotely close to catching something, the moron would scare it away. The only reason Arthur brought him along was because he knew that if anyone stood a chance at getting him out of this miserable mood it was Merlin. But no. Instead, he was doing the exact opposite.
Today was even worse. They'd gone all morning without seeing anything till he'd spotted a well sized deer. If he could at least catch that he'd be happy, but the damn thing kept running off. Each time it did he had to tack it down again. After three hours of this, Arthur finally managed to get it into an open clearing where he had perfect line of sight from the trees. With his crossbow aimed and ready he took a deep breath, but before he got a chance to fire, Merlin tripped and fell for about the hundredth time and the deer ran off. Arthur couldn't take it anymore.
"Could you be any more useless, Merlin?!" he shouted, his blood boiling now. It was normal for his manservant to scare off one or two animals during a hunt and trip on occasion, but this was every day and every animal, and he was infuriated. "You've never been so loud on a hunt! It's like you're purposely trying to scare away all the animals!" the King wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. He knew what a girl Merlin could be when it came to hunting.
"All of your yelling is probably scaring them off more than my clumsy feet," Arthur heard him mutter. Glancing down at the ground, he picked up the first rock he saw and chucked it at the boy's head, which he successfully dodged. Throwing the rock didn't calm Arthur down, but it helped. But then the worst thing imaginable happened. It seemed that his yelling had not only scared away any remaining animals, but it alerted their position to a small group of bandits. Arthur heard the whistle of an arrow through the air, followed by Merlin crying out in pain and watched in horror as his best friend collapsed to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his middle. Arthur saw red.
Five bandits ran out from the other side of the clearing, and he took them head on, cutting them down with ease before finding the archer who was hidden over a small ridge line and ran him though without a second thought. His heart pounding against his chest, Arthur ran back to where Merlin fell. He'd managed to prop himself up against a tree when Arthur dealt with the bandits and had his hand pressed down near the arrow. His face was strewn up in pain, his breathing quick and shallow, and there was far too much blood for Arthur's liking. As he knelt beside his inured friend, he noticed that the boy had become rather pale, more so than usual, and sweat had already started to bead on his brow. That wasn't good.
"Merlin," he breathed and pulled the boys hand away from the wound to examine it. The arrow was deep, but luckily towards the side so it didn't pass through any organs. However, there was a light green substance that oozed out with the blood and Arthur's heart nearly stopped. Poisoned. "You're going to be alright," he lied, trying to keep himself calm. "But I need to pull the arrow out." Merlin's eyes were clenched shut and he nodded stiffly. Trying to keep his voice from quivering, Arthur spoke softly. "Alright. On three. One." On one he gripped the shaft and pulled it out. His heart clenched as Merlin cried out and Arthur pressed down on the wound. "Sorry. I'm sorry." At that, Merlin's eyes drifted open and locked onto his own, a brief flicker of confusion passing through them at Arthur having apologized to him, but it quickly vanished to be replaced with pain.
"P-Prat." A small smile ghosted onto Arthur's face before focusing on the task at hand.
"You're bleeding a lot. And…and I think the arrow may have been poisoned," Arthur muttered quickly. "I'm no physician. But you've been living with Gaius for years. What do I do?" Arthur felt completely lost. As a knight and King, he knew some basic battlefield medicine but that was it. And right now, his mind was coming up blank on what needed to be done. He was pressing down on the wound like he should but couldn't remember what to do next. Never mind the fact that this wasn't the average arrow wound as it was poisoned, and he didn't know what with.
"Let…let me see the arrow," Merlin gasped out, clearing struggling for breath. Arthur carefully picked up the offending weapon and handed it to Merlin. He gave it a quick sniff before handing it back to Arthur. "It's…it's nothing too…horrible. Sh-Should be able to burn it out…when the fever starts," Merlin explained weakly and Arthur let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I…I've got some…yarrow in my satchel…it'll…help stop the bleeding. Then…then just bandage it up." Merlin's eyes fluttered shut and Arthur nearly panicked.
"No, no. Merlin! Merlin, stay awake." His precious blue eyes blinked open weakly. "I might need your help, so I need you to stay awake. Just for a few minutes, alright?" Slowly, Merlin nodded, and Arthur's bloodstained hands grabbed Merlin's satchel that was a few feet away. Opening it, he frantically searched for the yarrow. Once he found it, he helped Merlin out of his jacket and ripped open his blue tunic for better access to the injury.
"Oi," Merlin quietly protested. "My favorite…shirt."
"I'll buy you a new one," Arthur muttered and ripped off a strip of cloth from the tunic to clean the wound the best he could before gingerly spreading the yarrow on it. Once that was finished, he ripped off several more strips and made a makeshift bandage to bind the wound. Looking at his friend, Arthur could see that he was far paler than before from the blood loss and there was more sweat beading on his deathly pale skin. Gently pressing the back of his hand to Merlin's delicate forehead, Arthur frowned deeply. He was burning up.
"There was a stream that we passed earlier. It'll take me no more than five minutes to reach it. I need the water for your fever. Just…stay put," Arthur explained but received no response. Merlin's eyes were already closed once more and his breathing, though harsh sounding, was even. He was asleep. The King felt torn about leaving Merlin alone, even if just for a few minutes, but he knew that he needed to keep the fever under control. Taking Merlin's jacket, as well as his own, he covered Merlin gently before heading off with a heavy heart, carrying the cooking pot they brought with him.
Now that he was alone, the guilt hit Arthur. If only he'd kept hold of his temper and kept his voice down, Merlin wouldn't be hurt. He wouldn't be in pain. The moment that arrow went through the raven-haired servant, Arthur felt an arrow go through his heart. Merlin wasn't supposed to be in pain, wasn't supposed to be bleeding out or struggling for breath. He should be smiling and irritating Arthur to no end. But now, there was no smile. There was pain. Because of him. Because of his damn temper, Merlin was severely injured and possibly dying. No. No, he wasn't dying. He would recover. Merlin himself had said he should be alright, so he would be. Right? That's what Merlin did. He survived. No matter what battle they'd faced together, Merlin always survived. Never left Arthur's side. Arthur had started think of his life in two parts. Pre Merlin. Post Merlin. He couldn't bear to think about what his life would be like if Merlin wasn't there. Stupid, clumsy, loyal Merlin that he cared far too much for though he'd never admit it to anyone. His Merlin. He couldn't lose him.
Arthur was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the faint trickling of water and ran towards the stream. Collapsing to his knees at the water's edge, he washed off the blood, Merlin's blood, from his hands before filling the pot with the cold water. Even though the majority of the blood had washed off, he felt as if it were stained on his hands permanently. Without letting his thoughts wonder, he ran back to the clearing where Merlin was still propped against the tree, covered by the two jackets and his breathing sounding worse than before. Ripping off some more cloth from Merlin's ruined shirt, he carefully folded the material and dipped it into the water and placed it on Merlin's forehead. Though still unconscious, the boy leaned into the comforting touch.
"You're going to be alright, Merlin. A night’s rest and I'll have you mucking out the stables," Arthur muttered, more to himself. Part of him couldn't understand why he was so scared. This was certainly not the first time Merlin had been injured, though it was rare for it to be this severe. But the way that Merlin looked. His perfectly pale skin now almost translucent. His quick and shallow breaths, the pained expression on his face as he burned with fever. It was just so wrong, so unnatural. Merlin wasn't supposed to look like that. Arthur would give anything for Merlin to smile at him right now. Though he would never admit it, he truly did care for Merlin. And if he were to be honest, more than just as a friend. He loved the way Merlin would smile at him, or make smart comments, disrespect him out in the open by acting like they were equal even though he was a servant. Because they were. Others might not see it that way, but he did.
Arthur felt the tears sting his eyes and ignored them as they fell down his face. He hadn't cried since his father had died, and Merlin was there for him them, offering comfort and support. But now, Merlin wasn't there to help him. Instead, it was Merlin that was the cause of the tears. And it was his fault because of his damn temper. Merlin let out a pained whimper through his feverish sleep and it broke his heart.
Arthur didn't sleep much that night. He took turns tending to Merlin's fever and staring into the fire he made, trying not to think about Merlin not making it through the night. Yes, Merlin had said the poison wasn't too serious and that he'd be fine, but he still worried. Because things tended to go wrong for him when it should be fine. The bleeding had thankfully stopped, and he'd only needed to change the bandage once. But Merlin's fever was dangerously high, and his breathing had worsened, deepening Arthur's worry. It was now slow and raspy and hitched painfully every once in a while. Merlin hadn't woken up once as Arthur stayed up all night to take care of him. It wasn't until the night began to break into day that his eyes slipped shut and he fell into an uneasy sleep next to Merlin.
When he finally awoke, Merlin's fever had broken and he was looking much better but still a little pale, which was to be expected due to the blood loss. Arthur moved to change the bandages when Merlin stirred, opening his eyes weakly. Arthur smiled widely, overjoyed to see those blue eyes looking at him.
"You're still alive," Arthur informed him while he gently replaced the bandage.
"Take more than an arrow to get rid of me," Merlin replied, wincing slightly.
"Just make sure this doesn't happen again," Arthur ordered with a strong voice to keep it from cracking with emotion and tied off the bandage. Merlin wasn't fooled.
"Were you worried about me?" Merlin asked cheekily, smiling at him. Arthur couldn't describe how much he loved that smile.
"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin," Arthur countered, glaring at him to hide his affection as usual.
"That wasn't a no." Arthur rolled his eyes and went to move away but Merlin stopped him by firmly grabbing his hand. "I'm okay, Arthur. You don't need to worry." The King sighed loudly and sat down in front of Merlin, his eyes lingered at Merlin's hand holding his own, and tried not to think about how right it felt.
"I almost lost you, Merlin. And it was my fault."
"No. Arthur, this isn't your fault." Merlin reassured him softly and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb lightly caressing it. At that moment, something came over Arthur and he found himself leaning in and catching Merlin's lips with his own. It felt so right, so perfect. Like they fit. But then he realized what he was doing and began to pull away. Immediately, Merlin's hand was at the back of his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him back, much more passionately than Arthur did. Arthur smiled into it and suddenly wondered why he'd never done this before. Slowly, Merlin broke the kiss. "It's about time."
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur muttered and kissed him again.