Merlin one shots

Who did this to you

Wow, 70th chapter. Someone teased me when they found out I've been writing fan-fiction. Rude. This chapter is basically to spite them. Enjoy.

Merlin was limping. Well more like trying not to fall while still trying to breathe without hurting his broken ribs. Until the lamebrained muttonheads figured out that Merlin was basically immune to torture and always came out alive, while the people who tortured him did not, Merlin would have to endure the abuse occasionally.

Either way, Merlin was rather good at hiding his pain by now. Once he'd broken his ankle, and people had believed that he twisted it. Usually he didn't even have to withstand the pain due to healing spells. When someone saw him get hurt, he couldn't just have trouble walking one day, and have no evidence of the injury the next.

It was rather late by now. Arthur wouldn't have the patience to wait for Merlin, so he was probably in bed by now. The prat would most likely be angered that Merlin wasn't there to help him. Sometimes the Clot pole had the skills of a five year old. Or the lack thereof. Which was ridiculous because he's a grown man. Merlin would have to suffer.

Getting home was proving to be a challenge. With his battered leg and self worth. Merlin was nearly there. Perserverence was what Merlin was missing at the moment. All he wanted was to collapse and sleep. Last time he did that, he was stiff for a week, and late for work which resulted in more chores. No thanks. Plus, he needed to get to his room if he wanted to heal himself. It would do no good to have someone glimpse his gold eyes.

The door was not all that heavy. With broken ribs it felt like it was the same weight as a horse. Creaking loudly, it came open. There was no worry of waking Gaius this late because he was off trying to find the cause of a mystery ailment that was plaguing a village at the edge of Camelot.

The moment the door was closed, Merlim threw off his bloody jacket with a struggle. Taking his shirt off was going to be hell.

More stairs. Wonderful. Merlin thought sarcastically. Once that struggle was over, he started battling his shirt not noticing another person in the room.

Once the shirt was thrown away, he grabbed the spare cloth he kept for cases such as this.

"Merlin."

The deep voice scared the living daylights out of Merlin.

There sitting on Merlin's bed was Arthur. He was facing Merlin's wall and sat tall attempting to be intimidating. He was. If he turned, he would see Merlin's bloodied upper body.

In this case Merlin was in far too much pain to put on a shirt. Even if he could, they were in the cupboard in front of Arthur. So unless Arthur didn't look at him, he would see.

"I decided to check the tavern because my incompetent servant wasn't there when I needed him. Gwaine told me you never come there unless it's to drag him home. So where do you go all the time Merlin?"

Dread filled the Warlock as Arthur turned.

"Merlin?"

His familiar blue eyes raked over the many bruises, scars, cuts and the obviously mangled ribs. There was shock written all over his face. Normally Arthur hid all his emotions under a facade of confidence, but at the moment all his emotions showed.

Slouching, Merlin was looking at the ground. The defeat was obvious when Arthur looked in his eyes. After a moment, Merlin decided he'd treat his wounds as he figured out what to do.

Earlier he'd put the cleaning cloths and water in a reachable spot for a situation just like this one. He'd thought up many scenarios of various ways he could get hurt and prepared for all of them. Most of those scenarios didn't include Arthur. In fact none of them did.