1 | FOR YOU | merthur abo

Chapter Twelve: "Merlin Pendragon"

Warning(s): a/b/o, mild blood descriptor warning

Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine unfortunately

Bold is the Alpha voice being used.

Italics in "quotations" is past words or words that are being read in the person's head/thoughts.

Author's Note: I'll try to update more frequently! Enjoy this next chapter. Oh and thankyou for over 500 reads! Didn't think this story would do so well :)

Also, this one is a rollercoaster.

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The daunting dark of a traumatic night lay heavily on Merlin's shoulders. Trudging through the damp interior of the forest, his eyes were darting from many different views and sounds. Pushing past leaves and stepping over fallen branches.

A shivering cold was tickling Merlin's nose, just being away from the fire for a few minutes was leaving a freezing aftertaste on his sinuses, making him sniffle and his eyes tear up.

Why did he have to be such a baby?

Stupid Arthur, thinking it was smart to go wandering into the woods at this hour. Alone as well. An angry huff crackled in Merlin's throat.

God, it was freezing.

Winter was definitely a hard time. Not so much when it came to heats, as he could enjoy the cold air when he was overheating, but more so do with food supply. For himself, and the people of Camelot.

It was crazy to think that he cared so much for the villagers, even if they were just common folk. Whenever Arthur made a decision, he felt that he was making it with him. Maybe because Merlin was always the one he came too when he was struggling.

Sighing at the thought, he paused a moment. They really are like an old married couple.

Ignoring anymore internal confusion, he left the words at the back of his mind.

Merlin tucked his arms intowards his chest, trying to gather heat through his hands and keep himself cosy. Coming to a stop, he peered around.

"Arthur!"

Nothing. The silence was but a ringing in his ear, for Merlin had been so used to noise by now, constant chatting, arguing, footsteps, fire; it was exhausting to listen to nothing; draining the energy from his soul.

A grumble buzzed against his tongue. "Ugh, why does he have to be such an ass." He continued to trample over the muddy grass, frowning in agitation as he stalked through the forest.

"What a prat. Why couldn't he be a beta or something? Maybe then he would be wise and less arrog–"

Misplacing his footing, Merlin gasped as he tumbled over the soggy, dirt path that he had been previously walking along.

This, unfortunate action, caused him to trip and slide down a slippery canvas, crying out at the sudden mishap. Oh fuck.

A slope down to swamp water, Merlin had tried to reach for something to grabble. Stabbing his fingernails into the dirt, digging them into something of use.

This, of course, only bit him in the back.

Whilst flailing around, the root of a tree growing from the ground had sliced open his palm. Tearing the thick skin in two and allowing the blood to flow from the fresh wound.

Merlin hissed, choking on his own cry as he plummeted, face first, into the grody water.

The dead leaves, and dirt combined with the revolting smell had left him nauseous.