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Merlin groaned as he pushed himself on his elbows. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the dark blue sky in various shades of red and orange. The earth beneath him was damp and cold, sending shivers down his spine. He had spent the night tracking and fighting a group of sorcerers who wanted to attack Camelot, and the forest around him bore traces from the battle. Unrooted trees, scorched trunks, scattered branches, and trampled flowers painted a picture of devastation. Merlin had managed to get rid of the attackers, but not without sustaining a few injuries. After the fight was over, he had decided to lie on the ground. Only for five minutes, while he gathered the last of his strength to make the trip back to the castle. Five minutes had turned into an hour, and now he was running late.
There was a rather deep cut on his left arm that had been steadily bleeding, although not profusely so. Merlin knew he didn’t have time to go to Gaius before heading to Arthur’s chambers, so he took the only rational decision. He rolled up his sleeve to uncover the wound and wrapped his neckerchief around it. He winced as he tightened the cloth around his arm, the pain pulsing down to his fingers. Merlin could only hope he’d get a moment to visit the physician and get proper care before his wound got infected. With a simple thought, his clothes were clean, and any damage done to them during the fight was mended.
Taking a deep breath, the smell of damp earth, summer flowers and burnt wood filling his nostrils, he got up and started running. He was out of breath after only a few minutes, though, his head spinning from exhaustion. But he couldn’t stop. He needed to be there to wake Arthur, otherwise the young King would have questions, and Merlin wasn’t sure he would be able to lie in his current state.
The towers of the castle were magnificent, the white stone reflecting the flamboyant colours of the sky. Merlin couldn’t refrain from stopping for a few seconds to admire the dazzling sight they created. But soon the throbbing in his left arm and the faint sounds of the city waking up brought him back on track and he resumed his journey to the citadel. He had to sneak past the guards to enter the city walls, but that was nothing he wasn’t used to doing at this point.
He finally arrived to Arthur’s chambers, out of breath and with black spots dancing in front of his eyes, but relatively on time and with Arthur’s breakfast tray balanced on his hand. Merlin took a few seconds to regain his bearings before barging into the King’s chambers in his usual manner. He set the tray on the table with as much subtlety as ever and went to open the curtains with his usual cheer.
“Rise and shine! It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and you don’t even have to attend any council meetings.”
Arthur groaned and mumbled something that vaguely resembled “go away Merlin”, before covering his face with his pillow. Merlin chuckled and tried to wrangle the pillow out of Arthur’s grasp, but the pain in his left arm flared at the movement, making him hiss. He hoped that Arthur would be oblivious enough not to notice anything. But of course, that would be too good, and luck wasn’t on Merlin’s side. At least it had the instant effect of making Arthur sit up and actually get out of bed.
Merlin swallowed thickly, trying to get busy to evade Arthur’s intense stare. As much as Merlin loved to laugh at Arthur’s obliviousness, the King was a trained warrior, and years of experience had sharpened his observation skills.
“What happened to your left arm?”
Turning around with the clothes he had chosen for Arthur to wear held in his right hand, Merlin said, “Hmmm? Oh, it’s nothing, just a shallow cut.”
Obviously, Arthur wasn’t buying it. “It’s not shallow, you’re in pain. You haven’t used your left arm at all since you tried to steal my pillow. And where is your neckerchief?” Arthur asked with narrowed eyes.
Merlin huffed, getting annoyed by Arthur’s prodding. Why couldn’t the prat simply believe him like he always did all the other times Merlin got injured. “Alright, fine. It’s not shallow, but it’s not too deep either. I scraped my arm against something on my way down to fetch your breakfast and didn’t want to climb the stairs back to Gaius, so I used my neckerchief as a bandage. It’s nothing important. I’m clumsy, I injure myself all the time.”
For a few seconds, Arthur kept his eyes fixed on Merlin. It was a rather funny sight, Arthur still in his nightshirt, eyeing his manservant suspiciously to determine whether he was telling the truth or not. Well, maybe funny wasn’t the best word to describe that scene, but Merlin was tired and so everything was either funny or annoying to him. Arthur was a bit of both. Merlin desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but he knew it wasn’t the right time. Although, as his own eyes unwaveringly met Arthur’s, he decided that he would tell the whole truth to his friend soon. The concern that was so visible in Arthur’s usually guarded eyes. The silent plea for Merlin to confide in him that was spoken in every one of Arthur’s gestures, hidden behind each of his word. It all made Merlin ache to reveal the whole truth to his best friend. Soon, but not now. Not when he was so tired he barely remembered his own name.
And Arthur seemed to arrive at the same conclusion because he let it go. He still looked utterly unconvinced, but he seemed to understand that now wasn’t the right time for this prolonged inquiry. “Go back to Gaius, get that wound treated and get some sleep. You look terrible, Merlin. I expect you back this afternoon after lunch.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin said with a grateful smile.
He felt Arthur’s eyes on his back as he exited the room. It was as if Arthur’s gaze was escorting him, steadying his steps and lending him the strength he needed. Yes, Merlin thought, he would tell Arthur the whole truth soon, but not before he had caught a few hours of sleep.