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“Merlin!” Merlin jerks at Arthur’s cry of his name, swivelling his head towards the prince.
Arthur all but leaps from his own horse, somehow making the action look incredibly graceful.
“What happened?” He closes the distance between them in a matter of seconds.
Merlin’s eyes widen as he realises he’s staring.
“Umm, I fell?”
“I noticed that, but why are you still on the ground?” He’s bending down now, eyes level with Merlin’s own, had they always been that shade of blue?
“Ah.” Merlin says simply, turning his attention to his arm. He can move his fingers fine, along with his shoulder, his elbow on the other hand is where the problem lies.
There’s an almost- numbness there, and try as he might he can’t move the joint. It might as well belong to someone else.
“It’s my elbow.” He swallows, feeling his cheeks heating slightly under Arthur’s gaze. “I can’t move it.”
Arthur’s hands are on his arm in the next second, each point of contact almost searing despite the gentleness with which Arthur treats him. His sleeve is rolled up, exposing skin with is already starting to bruise an ugly grey colour, as the joint itself swells.
He’s fascinated for a moment, unable to draw his attention away, that is until Arthur presses just a little too hard.
The flinch tears through his whole body, and he almost pulls the limb free of Arthur’s hold.
“It looks like you’ve dislocated it.” Arthur doesn’t even bat an eyelash at Merlin’s behaviour. “We’ll have to get you back to Gaius, this isn’t something I can put back into place.”
“Right.” Merlin says, quiet. The pain that had hidden itself behind his shock is now threatens to overwhelm him.
Arthur gets to his feet, leaning forwards, he wraps one arm around Merlin’s shoulders, and places his other hand on Merlin’s bicep. Helping him get to his feet.
Blood rushes to his head, and Merlin has to blink to clear his vision, some small part of his mind revealing in the fact that Arthur has yet to remove his hand.
“Are you with me, Merlin?” There’s real concern in Arthur’s voice, and it’s not hidden behind sarcasm as it would normally be.
“Hm.” It take Merlin a moment to realise he had just been standing there, silent, unmoving. “It’s fine- it just hurts.” He’s wrapped the finger of his uninjured arm around his other wrist, trying to provide some support.
“Would it help if I kissed it better?”
“Yes-” Merlin’s head snaps up to Arthur’s eyes. “What? Arthur-”
Any other protest on Merlin’s tongue is silenced as Arthur, in one fluid movement, leans forwards pressing his lips gently to the skin just above Merlin’s elbow.
Lips parting a small sound escapes Merlin, only for Arthur’s own lips to cover his, killing any words before they can take proper form.
“Better?”