Merlin's magic (Oneshots) 1

With and without you

A.N.: I AM studying, don't judge me. Writing are my little rewards for doing well on my exam :)

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It's dark. Flashes of light threaten to wake Arthur from his sleep, but with the light also comes the pain. If Arthur could choose, he'd rather take the darkness. Sometimes, he hears Merlin's voice and it's almost enough to drag him out of his haze. Almost.

Instead, Arthur's mind flutters in and out of consciousness. He can feel someone keep him upright and immediately knows it's a druid. How did he know that? How had he come here? He must have been hurt. Arthur doesn't remember who wounded him, doesn't remember what weapon it was that put him in this condition. All he knows is that it isn't important. It's just been a normal day out with his knights and they got in a normal fight as they usually do. Plus, he knows that he's here now, in the arms of this stranger who is putting some cold liquid down his throat. Arthur has no choice but to swallow it unless he wants to choke and drown.

"What is that? What are you giving him?" Merlin's voice is loud and panicked and it warms Arthur's heart to hear him. To know he's there. To know he's safe.

"It's fine, Emrys. This is a sedative. It is not without side effects, but it will heal him."

"Side effects? What side effects?" Merlin sounds demanding. Arthur is too tired to laugh or at least smile at him. Merlin sounds like he's some kind of authority over these people. Normally, they would want Arthur dead and perhaps he should worry about that. But it's so funny to his delirious mind.

Why they called Merlin Emrys, Arthur didn't know. It is not important in that moment and so it goes into one of his ears and leaves through the other.

What matters is that the liquid in his veins must be magic. It doesn't hurt. In fact, it lulls him further into this safe warmth that might actually be death.

Then, he feels Merlin's hand on his chest and he knows that it isn't. Merlin's hand is soft, warm and calming, not desperately clutching at him as he usually did when Arthur was at the brink of death.

For a second Arthur wonders if magic really was so evil if it could numb his pain as it did right now. And with that thought followed the familiar question of how his world would look like, if his mother was still alive. Would his father have ever known the dark side of magic? Would everything be the same? The questions follow him into unconsciousness.

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Arthur wakes up alone in a forest. It's cold and silent. Almost too silent, except Arthur can hear birds chirping and the wind rattling the leaves. The silence is peaceful and Arthur's senses tell him he's still safe. He feels no pain. Vaguely, he thinks he should. He gets up and halts as he notices what he's wearing. He's dressed in comfortable trousers and a shirt that roughly feels like the one that Merlin had given him once upon a time when Arthur was desperate to prove himself and hid amongst his knights as a stranger, and among his people as a commoner. This particular choice of dress should have been in one of his dressers in his chambers, not out here in the woods.

Arthur pauses and traces the plain unharmed skin where he remembers scars to be. He checks his chest, where he was sure he'd been hit and finds that it doesn't hurt. He touches his face, his hair, his soft hands, his legs. He finds that he isn't even sweating.

For a moment, Arthur wonders if he's dead.

He discards the idea as soon as it has come to him. If he were dead, why would he be in a forest? And one he recognizes at that? The more Arthur looks around, the more familiar his surroundings become. It's greener than what he's used to, and there is a definite lack of Druid camp to be considered, but Arthur knows this forest, knows the clearing, knows even where the nearest river flows. He's in the forests surrounding Camelot.