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Lancelot strolled down the corridors of the castle. The sun had set some time ago, and he should be asleep, but his mind was restless, so he had decided to relax himself with a walk. Night was the best time to do so, anyway, in his opinion. There was no one bustling about to annoy him or ask his business, no trivial small talk that needed to be made, just Lance, his thoughts, and complete silence. At least, it was usually silent.
A large crash followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground in a nearby hall took Lancelot out of his head. He immediately ran to the source of the noise to see what had happened. He would admit he was a little irritated that his walk had been interrupted, but someone needed help. When he swerved around the corner of the hallway, he was instantly taken aback. In the middle of the floor was a silver tray, once carrying a few dishes and food remains, now tipped over. It had been dropped by Merlin, who was collapsed against the wall of the castle, his head lolling back and eyelids fluttering, trying to stay open. Lance dropped to the ground and grabbed a hold of each of Merlin's shoulders, then gently lifted him from the wall. Merlin let out a small groan, and Lance lightened his grip as much as he possibly could.
"Whoa there," he murmured. "Merlin, what happened to you?" He brushed his hand along the side of Merlin's face and looked him up and down, trying to analyze what was wrong.
Merlin weakly turned his head away and responded, "Nothing, I'm fine."
"You're obviously not," Lance took Merlin by the chin and delicately turned him back to face Lance. He insisted, "I'm taking you back to your room."
Despite Merlin's attempts at protesting, Lancelot scooped him up and held him close. Once Merlin was comfortably settled in Lance's arms, he stopped complaining and rested his head on Lancelot's chest. The first thing Lance noticed as he carried him to the physician's chambers was that Merlin was much lighter than he had expected. He was almost weightless. Lancelot furrowed his brow. He wondered if Merlin hadn't been eating well. He'd always appeared thin, but Lance chalked it up to his oversized clothes or the fact that he was usually seen amongst knights in their chainmail. It seemed that he really was that scrawny. The second thing he noticed was Merlin kept his hand over his ribcage as if he was cradling an injury. Not until they had reached the chambers and Lance had taken him up to his room, then set him down on his bed, did Merlin move his hand, even then doing so gingerly.
Lance made sure Merlin was sitting up alright before he let go of his arm and sat beside him on the bed. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Merlin clearly wanted to be left alone, he was facing the wall with his shoulders drawn up, trying to make himself smaller, but Lance wasn't leaving until he knew why he found Merlin collapsed in a hall.
"Is Gaius still out?" Lancelot broke the silence.
Merlin nodded.
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
A shrug.
Lance looked down to the hem of Merlin's shirt, and slowly reached his hand over to take a hold of it, causing Merlin to sharply inhale. With his hand just barely lifting up Merlin's shirt, Lancelot stopped. He asked, "Is this alright?" For a few seconds, Merlin was completely still and rather tense, but then he gave Lance the slightest nod of his head.
Fabric rustled as Lance lifted Merlin's shirt up and over his head, making sure not to go too fast or be too rough. Once Merlin's shirt was all the way off, Lancelot couldn't help but gasp. His chest was covered in scrapes and bruises, entire areas were colored blue and yellow, and there was a particularly nasty gash running down Merlin's ribcage where he had been keeping his hand. The wounds weren't too recent, maybe a day or two at the oldest, but that was still too long for them to go untreated. Lance ran his fingers along the tender skin, assessing just how serious the damage was. Merlin shivered with his touch, but didn't stop him.
"Merlin..." Lance breathed. "Who did this to you?"
Merlin ran a hand through his hair. "I just got into some trouble. I should've been more careful," he shifted to look at Lancelot. "Please, don't tell Arthur. He'd make such a big deal over it and I've already been hiding it for this long."
Lance clicked his tongue in disapproval, but still promised, "I won't say I word." He then stood up and began to look around Merlin's room, opening drawers and looking in cupboards.
"What're you doing?" Merlin inquired.
"I'm looking for herbs to treat your injuries."
With a huff, he responded, "You don't have to do that, I'll be alright."
Lancelot stopped searching the room and locked gazes with Merlin. "I'm helping you, and that's final," he announced.
Merlin rolled his eyes, but he agreed to it, albeit begrudgingly. "You'll need comfrey. And honey, to stop an infection, along with willow bark and lemon balm."
Without even a moment's hesitation, Lance hurriedly walked down the stairs and grabbed all that he needed from various nooks and crannies in Gaius' chambers. He seemed to know everything's exact place. After all, he did spend a lot of time with Merlin, who spent a lot of time with a physician. It hardly took him two minutes before Lancelot was back up in Merlin's room and applying the treatments, starting on Merlin's back and gradually working his way to his chest. His hands were soft and smooth against Merlin's hurt skin. They were cooling to the touch as they ran over Merlin's taut muscles and relieved his aches. Anytime Merlin took a breath or winced in the slightest, Lance would stop and ask if he was alright before continuing. In no time, he was finished. Merlin's gash had closed up more, and even if it was just a little bit, his bruises seemed to already be fading.
Now that he had been tended to, Merlin slipped his shirt back on over his head. He half smiled at Lance before saying, "It was my fault, anyways, you know."
Lance quickly grabbed a hold of Merlin's wrist and looked at him with his deep brown soulful eyes. He placed a hand on the side of Merlin's face, brushing his cheekbones with his thumb. Lancelot leaned in close and assured him, "Merlin, nothing is ever your fault."
A single tear slipped from Merlin's face. He smiled again, this time wide and genuine. "Thank you.
"Of course," Lancelot gave his face one more caress, then stood up. "Well, it's late. You should probably be getting to sleep." He turned to walk out of the room, but was stopped by Merlin's hand grabbing his own, making him turn around and tilt his head, confused.
Merlin let out a shuddering breath and whispered, "Could you stay with me? Just for tonight?"
The corner of Lance's mouth raised ever so slightly, and he said, "I'd love to."