Merthur Oneshots

How to not fall asleep: A guide

To say it had been a difficult week for Merlin would be an understatement. With trying to figure out how to avoid an upcoming attack by a group of Odin's men, doing chores for both Arthur and Gaius, and dealing with Kilgarrah's nonsense which was a sorry excuse for advice, it was a miracle that he hadn't kicked the bucket yet. Or even fainted. Then at least he would get some sleep.

"Merlin! Have you sharpened my sword yet?" Arthur's voice rang out just as Merlin burst in his room with a load of laundry in his arms.

Crap. He'd forgotten.

He shook his head a little, trying to get the pounding headache he had had for the past couple of days to recede. He had given up on trying to get rid of it, and was only trying to make it feel like his head won't burst open any second.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice came again.

"No," Merlin whispered, but he doubted Arthur could hear it from the mountain of clothes obscuring him.

"What did you say?" Arthur asked.

Merlin dropped the load on a nearby chair. "I said no, I didn't." He would probably get punished for this, but he couldn't bring himself to really care. Whatever was going to happen couldn't be worse than whatever was happening right now anyway. Maybe he might even get some sleep.

He hadn't seen himself in the mirror lately, but he was sure he didn't look healthy.

He just hoped no one would notice.

He picked a tunic up, trying to fold it, as Arthur stood nearby, trying to process what he just said.

"What in the world Merlin! Go and do it now!" He yelled. Merlin sighed and abandoned the tunic, making his way out of the door.

He had hoped that he might be able to catch a nap in the armory while he was sharpening the sword, but those plans had been shattered when he entered the underground cavern and realised that one of the blacksmiths was battering a bent sword back to its shape. Why was he doing it in the armoury, he had no idea, but Merlin couldn't very well ask him to leave.

So he sat down in the furthest corner, a whetstone in his hand. The clanging of the blacksmith's hammer was in rhythm with the pounding in his head.

Clang!

Clang!

Scrape...

Clang!

Scrape...

Scrape...

Clang!

About a quarter of an hour later, Merlin couldn't keep his eyes open, no matter how much he tried to. That problem was solved when a sharp slice of pain shot through his arm. The sword had slipped from his shaking hands. Huh. He hadn't noticed them shaking before.

"Ow! What the-" He whispered, gazing at the bleeding cut on his hand. He thought about healing it with magic, but his head pounded at the very thought.

Oh well , he thought, at least the pain will keep me awake.

****

He soon realized that his shaking hands would be the biggest problem. He was spilling everything that he was holding, and this was the third vial that had slipped from his hands. He had stopped the first two from smashing on the floor with magic, each spell driving a spear of pain through his mind.

"What is it with you today boy?!" Gaius exclaimed, exasperated at the boy who was standing looking at the broken glass, a blank look on his face.

"Huh?" Merlin looked up, to see Gaius staring at him with a vaguely worried expression on his face. "No nothing, just feeling a little tired, that's all." That was putting it mildly. He picked up a rag from a nearby table and started wiping off the liquid that had fallen onto the floor. He didn't even bother identifying it.