Since Birth

Chapter Seven

Arthur knew how to bandage a physical wound. But a mental one? He had yet to learn of the topic. "Merlin?" he asked gently, watching as Merlin crawled on his bed, rushing to wipe the tears from his eyes. Attempting to pry his knees to his chest, he only let out a gasp as a result.

"Let me look at you," Arthur inquired, striding over to the younger man. The suspiration Merlin was giving wasn't helping the predicament, and when Arthur saw tears form in the brunet's eyes, the only emotion that began to cross his mind was remorse and guilt for not helping him. Pulling up the shirt should have been easy to do, considering he wasn't the one injured; but when he saw the pale skin now exposed Arthur allowed a blush to pattern his cheeks lightly. He could take notice to the bruise now, a diffused splotch of different, cold hues. Letting a finger graze the surface lightly in care, he heard Merlin hiss from the contact.

"Don't do that," the younger boy mumbled, gazing down at the wound on his chest. Lifted up properly now, he realized that it wasn't just a bruise, but a cut overlaying the scene with several dotted spots of blood. He had expected welts, but an open injury? Did something sharp make contact with his chest while the boot was on Merlin's skin?

"Remind me to give the middle finger to that king the next time I see him."

"I will," Arthur softly chuckled in reply, slightly shocked at Merlin's rage against his father. It would only make sense when seeing the injury battered onto Merlin's rib.

Merlin began to relax under his companion's touch, trusting Arthur as he carefully took care of the cut. The elder was gentle, and it soothed Merlin to see someone tend to him with such care. "Thank you," he whispered, unaware that his voice was incomprehensible. The only sign that had been given to the breathy voice he emitted was Arthur's "Huh?" as he grabbed some wine from the table, coming back over to the younger man cautiously.

"I said thank you," Merlin spoke, louder this time. He gazed away with a flushed complexion as he saw the blond's eyes meet his with a broad smile.

"You know I'm not doing this for you, Merlin," he murmured.

"What?"

Arthur sighed. "I'm doing it for myself. No matter how much I'll deny it, guilt will eat me through unless you're tended to."

Merlin couldn't stop the grin that pulled his lips apart. Still, a toll of confusion seemed to hit him during the act. "Isn't that technically still helping me, though?"

"Merlin."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but felt the former tension in the air now loosen. His tears had dried, only leaving waxy lines invisible to most. Gazing down, he watched with anxious eyes as the elder dipped a finger in the wine, stirring it around the solution until the pad was concealed with the substance.

"This will hurt."

He wasn't ready to anticipate the following pain. Luckily, he's felt worse before. Pain laced through his nerves, traveling up his body in rivets as all he could do was grip Arthur's arm, trying to steer him away. "Arthur-"

"It's alright. It'll be over in a second."

It was more than a second.

Merlin felt himself ache as he knocked his head against the sheets beneath him. He hadn't even realized he was laying down. "I-It's been more than a second!" he scolded in anger, piercing his fingernails into Arthur's arms.

The blond cursed. "Merlin! I'm trying to help you-"

A sudden knock to the door held all thoughts and talk inside the room as the two froze. Arthur leaned away, his finger letting loose while Merlin cupped his wound to hide it from the further threading of touch.