Battle Scars (Merlin)

Chapter 7

Wow, it's been a long time... but here it is! Question: does anyone know if whump stands for anything? Like, 'well horrible utterly miserable pain' or something? Or is it just a word?

"You look...tired," Gwaine says, as Arthur returns, covered in sweat and shaking slightly.

"As do you. How is he?" No improvement. His breathing's slightly shallower.

But instead Gwaine says, "He's no better, no worse."

Arthur seems to tell he's lying, but drops it, nodding curtly and striding into the tent. He ignores the navy material that flaps in his face, pushing it out of the way and barely noticing when Gwaine comes to hold it back. Inside, Merlin's paler, the dark light doing nothing to help it; now that Arthur knows of his scars he can't understand why he didn't before. Now, looking back, he realizes that, on several occasions, Merlin came back with a wince or a limp but no one ever thought twice of it, dismissing it for a trip or a training scratch.

He stumbles out backwards, sitting down on a log and taking up a tense pose off elbows on knees, hands balling into fists and chin resting on said hands.

He only gets to his feet a good ten minutes later, when Leon, Percival and Elyan enter the clearing, each with a few pheasants or rabbits. Arthur almost smiles at Merlin's latest rant about why he shouldn't kill rabbits. Far better than you will ever be...fluffy tails...they should roam free...you're a clot-pole...

H's ears bring him back to the present; various bedrolls being laid out and logs being piled onto a ready fireplace. He shakes himself and joins it, fetching supplies from the horses, only pausing once to ask Percival to ask Merlin out of the tent. Once we get the fire started he'll be warmer.

In fact, everyone's so busy, nobody notices Merlin waking up, albeit slowly and not very obviously. They only notice when flames start reflecting off Elyan's breastplate and everyone turns to the fire, finding a still pale and obviously unwell Merlin holding a pair of flints and an expression of either smugness or thoughtfulness. It's impossible to tell with Merlin. A delayed reaction follows, and then Arthur yells, with an expression not unlike when they found the loyal manservant in the bog, "MERLIN!"

Merlin, although not quite his usual self, replies with, "ARTHUR!"

"Don't be sarcastic, idiot. Thought you were going to die."

"Oh, that's-" a coughing fit stops him mid-sentence, and he winces, pressing one hand to his ribs. "Cheerful," he finishes, blinking up at Arthur with a look that reminds the King of a doleful cow.

"How are you?" Gwaine cuts in, jogging to the thin manservant's side and looking at him with concern in his eyes. The knights are quick to follow suit and once everyone's gathered round the fire, the rich oranges and reds crackling merrily, Merlin makes another attempt to speak.

"Good. Mostly."

"Well, Merlin," Arthur says, deciding he's shown enough concernedness that the situation called for and reverting back to his usual pretty self. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"Any chance of-" another coughing fit. This time Arthur rubs his back until he's finished. "Waiting for another-" It doesn't slip Arthur's notice that blood comes up with this batch. "Another day?"

"None at all," Arthur says, a little too cheerful then what Merlin thinks the situation calls for. "You're going to tell us everything."

Merlin, however, had his own ideas. He was not going to tell them everything.

And hence, the questioning began.

Elyan, who had not yet heard the full story of Arthur and Merlin's first meeting, asks curiously, "Why do you have mace scars on your shoulders? I don't think you've ever used them for practice in training with us."

"Blame the prat over here. Would you like to-" More coughing, and this time, a lot more blood. And this time, nobody's misses it. "Explain, King Prat?"

"Merlin arrived in Camelot, he didn't know who I was, and we got into a fight. It ended up with Merlin in the dungeons. And then the next day, we had another-well, it wasn't a fight. More of an attack on my side. And it involved maces."

"If I remember ri-" The amount of blood in that one cough was alarming, not to mention the rest of them put together, "right, he was very clumsy."

"Yes. Well. Let's move onto the next thing. The burn. On your chest."

Merlin's eyes darken. You shouldn't have killed my friend. Nimueh's shriek. The fireball. "That's not important." The knights shuffle and fidget, slightly alarmed by the subtle change in Merlin's tone.

"Yes it is. It's the biggest burn I've ever seen. Merlin-"

"It's not important!" It seems that raising his voice causes the bouts of coughing, as he promptly has another one. Arthur looks at the blood and presses onto Merlin's side gently, the one without the wound. He can't feel a broken rib, but he can't think of another reason for it. Gaius always said to bring anyone coughing up blood to him, but...Gaius wasn't here, and they were a fair way from Camelot, without horses.

"Is anything broken?" Leon asks, nodding towards Merlin.

"I can't feel anything," Arthur replies, continuing to press around even as Merlin's coughing fit ends.

"Probably just a throat irritation, then," Leon says, poking at the fire with a stick. Arthur immediately feels stupid for not thinking of that previously and instead resumes his poking and prodding, earning a few half-hearted grouchy mumbles from Merlin.

"So, Merlin. If you're not going to tell us about the massive burn that takes up nearly all of your chest, what about the serket sting on your back?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"No."