Merlin One-Shots!!

Here for you

TW: self harm. Please do not read if this triggers you

.

.

.

On those hot summer days when the air clings to your skin you crave the sweet relief of the cold. Imagine how you would feel with forty five pounds of armour weighing you down, suffocating you under the searing sun.

"If we go on any further I think I might just die."

Gwaine had already discarded the top layer of armour leaving just the chainmail exposed; much to Arthur's protest as it really isn't safe out here.

"There's a clearing up ahead." Merlin mumbled in a sleep like state.

Much to everyone's frustration the clearing beared no river, not even a small creek wide enough to bathe their feet. It was a dry as a desert.

"Merlin please I can't take it." Gwaine whined dramatically flopping at Merlin's feet. Merlin waved his hand dismissively and at his gesture water seeped through the soil.

Soon the clearing held a stunning pond of crystal clear water that came up to the knight's waist. They wasted no time stripping off their armour and diving into the pool head first. Modesty was all but  forgotten.

Merlin slumped under the shade of a large oak tree, accepting the little relief the leaves provided. His leather jacket was tied around his waist and he had propped his boots against the tree. Apart from that, Merlin remained as covered as possible. He stared at the pool with longing but refused to join his friends.

"Merlin you look like your about to pass out. Why don't you join us?" Leon asked, pushing his matted curls away from his eyes.

"I'm alright."

Anyone could see he was far from 'alright' but they aborted the conversation anyway. Something about his tone deterred them from pushing: there was only one brave enough (or so utterly thick, one can never tell) to approach the warlock.

"Oh come on Merlin." The jesting tone went right over Merlin's head and he glared at the king with fire in his eyes.

"I said I'm fine."

Never one to back down, Arthur rest his arms on the side of the pond. The way Merlin was sitting left his bare feet within Arthur's range.

"If you're sure." Arthur went to turn around but instead grabbed Merlin's ankle and dragged him into the pond.

In a panic Merlin clawed at Arthur consequently pulling both of them under. In the midst of his flailing Merlin managed to get tangled in his shirt so to prevent himself from drowning, discarded of the fabric. When he broke the surface he was ready to spit fire at the king but was met with startled - on the cusp of unsettled - eyes.

The sudden horror of what was happening hit Merlin and he snaked his arms across his chest. But the damage was done. They had all seen the array of hoffic scars that littered his ivory skin. An abstract painting of dots, dashes and curves ranging from the lightest pinks to the deepest reds. There were some bearing the crests of kingdoms long since defeated, a reminder of wars fought years ago. Arthur could have sworn one looked so fresh that it was still weeping.