The Curse of Anteros (a MERTHUR story) - Complete

Suffer, as I have suffered.

Merlin strolled through the forest, adjusting the bag at his hip as he weaved through trees and over fallen pines. He muttered incoherently to himself, in search of the ingredients Gaius sent him off into the woods for. Insofar, he had no such luck.

He was straying further from the path he was familiar with, edging deeper into the untouched portion of Camelot land. He was quite close to preserve territory but, despite that, did not hear any echoes of wildlife. Noting the silence, Merlin stopped and debated whether or not to return to Gaius empty-handed. After all, he had many chores to do-- once he got back within yelling distance of Arthur's demands, that is.

Merlin tried to forget the blistering in his fingers he was still fostering from the last time Arthur had tasked him with cleaning. The entire great hall floor glistened like a mirror after Merlin had scrubbed on hands and knees with a rag, without so much as a simple thank you or praise. All he had received was a retort about not forgetting his other duties.

Merlin wiped the sweat from his brow, dirt grinding into the spot from his mucky hands that had been pushing at the foliage. Spotting what seemed to be a perfectly shady tree at a short distance, he consented to take a short break; perhaps even take another look at the sketch of what he was looking for. He was tempted to try to find them with magic but hesitated. He was careless enough, and besides that, didn't know a spell offhand that would help him find some obscure flower hiding within the forest.

Merlin sat under the canopy of the large oak tree with a sigh, taking off his bag to lay it beside him. Closing his eyes and breathing in, he finally felt a moment of peace and exhaled slowly with a smile. However, a pain surged in his right hand and he noticed a few of the blisters on it had popped and now stung with exposure. Merlin rolled his eyes and groaned with pain, cursing Arthur with every word under his breath.

Throwing his head back in frustration against the trunk of the tree, he heard a hollow thud and something fall behind him. Merlin frowned, turned his neck around, and noticed a gap in the tree's roots. He groped around foolishly in the space, curious if something was hidden there. As it occurred to him that he was vulnerable waving his arm and blistered hand like that in such a place, his fingers brushed against the corner of something.

"Interesting," Merlin hummed to himself, getting a grip on the box and taking it out. It looked old, at least a few decades, but the latch gave with the slightest force. The box, no bigger than the size of a hare, held some decayed object in it.

Merlin grasped at the lump and brought it closer for a better look, he nearly vomited upon realizing the lump was a pound of flesh-- a heart, to be exact. He threw it back within the cloth lining of the box, finally noticing the inscription in fading brown on the lid.

He felt as though a burn was coursing through his hand as it was marked with something resembling a set of weighing scales-- a dark shade of mulberry on his white skin.

At this moment, Merlin felt incredibly stupid. Not to mention very unlucky, for the inscription read: Suffer, as I have suffered. Whomsoever takes ownership of this heart will feel my sadness. Anteros, avenge me.

"Why can't I ever just leave well enough alone?" Merlin groaned, stuffing the box in his bag.

The ingredients would have to wait, Merlin reasoned. He hoped Gaius could help him out of whatever mess he'd gotten himself into this time. Not to mention, help wrap his hands with bandages and salve.