Chapter Text
A month had passed. A cold bleak month through the dead of winter. The ground over Camelot froze and thawed between the snow and the rain. The harvest food stores dwindled. Rats took refuge in the castle walls. Mice chewed through the last of the grains. Everything was cold and damp.
In the lower town, disease had spread. Thin ice covered the cobblestones. The cold wind howled down from the grey skies and snuffed out any warmth or refuge. Even Arthur, in his chambers lit by a fire, still shivered at night.
He’d called for Merlin on that night. Looking out through the glass at the dark, stormy night beyond, The rain was trembling the windows. He’d called for Merlin, but Merlin had not come.
So Arthur had gone, asking around for his useless servant. He’d searched the physician's chambers, but Gaius said he’d never come home. Gwen and Morgana hadn’t seen him. And the tavern was empty of its usual patrons, excluding Gwaine.
Through the dark and the rain Arthur walked. Through the mud and the mist. He came to the castle stables. Ice hung from the support beams like scythes, snow had banked up around the entrance, beaten down in some places by muddy footprints and turning to ice in the rain, and Merlin…
Merlin lay in a heap in the straw, trembling and twitching. Barely breathing. Arthur could see blood and bruises painting his face. It was sticky and hot and looked black in the firelight. He’d called for the guards and ripped off his cloak to cover Merlin better. The night air hit like a punch to the ribs. Arthur’s chest tightened and he wondered briefly how he was still breathing. And how Merlin was still breathing. The guards had never taken so long.
It seemed a lifetime, maybe two, until they were back again in the physician’s chambers. People gathered at the edges of Arthur’s vision. Gwen, Morgana, Gwaine, Gaius.
Gaius worked quickly to remove Merlin’s shirt. He had to cut it off with shears. Something in the sight of that turned Arthur’s stomach over and over. And once it was off, there they were again. Deep slashes down his ribcage, like a bear attack. This time they reached up further, clawing for his throat, leaving every inch of skin broken and bruised.
Everyone recoiled. Everyone but Gaius, who merely frowned and sighed.
“Bring me hot water and my kit.” He gestured and Gwen rushed to obey.
“And I’ll need clean towels.”
Morgana breezed from the room.
“Perhaps some Alcohol, to sterilize the wound.”
Gwaine set off.
And so for a brief moment, it was just them. Gaius, Merlin and Arthur.
“What’s going on?” Arthur looked to the physician, but Gaius avoided his eyes.
“What’s happening to Merlin?”
Gaius said nothing.
*
*
The deep pit of uneasiness grew deeper and deeper each time Arthur and Merlin crossed paths. For the first few days, he’d watched his manservant limp down the corridors in the grey light of early dawn. He’d stop, leaning hard on the walls, having to catch his breath every few steps.
Every time Arthur had come to his aid, Merlin had shrugged him off, making some weak joke about the situation.
The last time, he’d said. “Are you worried about me?” With such a smile beneath the bruises that it hurt.
“No.” Arthur had said. But he was. Of course, he was.
A week later Merlin was back in Arthur’s chambers cleaning. Wincing every time he leaned, or breathed, or did anything other than stand perfectly still.
Arthur was sick to death of it. He threw a shirt onto the floor and watched as Merlin sighed and crouched awkwardly, trying to pick it up.
“I’d like to know what’s going on,” Arthur growled and stepped on the shirt with his boot. “I’d like to know why my manservant is constantly covered in cuts and bruises and no culprit is ever found.”
“Arthur, it’s nothing,” said Merlin, he let go of the shirt, but didn’t stand.
“How is it nothing?” Arthur snapped. “How is this-” he reached down and grabbed at Merlin’s scarf, “-nothing?”
The cuts were fading to scars. Deep purple and angry red against his pale skin, but scars nonetheless.
“This time was worse than last time. What’s next Merlin? Am I going to find you dead?”
Merlin said nothing. There was anger in his eyes.
“Answer me!”
He didn’t.
Arthur threw the scarf back at Merlin and marched from the room.
“Next time I won’t come looking for you!” Arthur snapped over his shoulder.
But of course, he would.
He always would.