A/N: Or "Three Times Emrys Wasn't Allowed to Kill Anyone and One Time He Was".
. . . . .
The first few days of recovery went well. It helped that Arthur was asleep for most of them. The sleep was fitful, interrupted by tossing, turning, and delirious whispers, but Emrys soothed it away with a few words and a touch of magic. When he was called away, Guinevere claimed his seat, the soft smell of lavender covering the dark tang of blood that Emrys always left behind.
Once Arthur woke up and was filled in on the details of what had happened, it was a different story.
"I need to get back to work," he told Guinevere firmly.
"You need to rest," she said, frowning at him.
"You're not going back to work for at least another week," Emrys agreed as he stepped from the shadows of the door into the room. Guinevere jumped in her seat.
Arthur just glared at him. "The war's not going to stop while I laze about."
"I'm taking care of it," Emrys said. "Here, sign these." A thick stack of papers was drawn from an impossibly small pocket and placed carefully on Arthur's bed along with a pen.
There was a time Arthur wouldn't have signed anything Emrys handed him without going through the details with a fine toothed comb, but at this point his hand was already signing before he noticed the dark stains on the edge of the paper.
"Please tell me that isn't blood."
Emrys peered at it. His shoulders slumped. "I can't do that."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me you didn't kill anyone."
Emrys perked up. The whole room seemed to warm. "That I can do. I just encouraged him a little."
"Encouraged who?"
Emrys frowned. "This is stressing you. These can wait. You can worry about it later." He tried to take the papers back.
Arthur wouldn't let go. "Emrys."
Guinevere came up on the other side of the bed and put a hand on his forehead. "He's right, Arthur. You need to rest. Everything else can wait."
"If I need to sign these, I'll sign them," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm not fragile. What's happened?"
"Nothing you need to worry about," Emrys said firmly. "This is just the usual paperwork for your department."
"My usual paperwork doesn't have bloodstains on it."
"That's because you usually don't have to fight Agravaine's toadies for it. They're trying to find evidence to get him off." Emrys smiled. His teeth suddenly seemed very sharp. "Weretrying, I should say."
"But no one's dead," Guinevere hastened to add.
"I can change that if you like," Emrys said thoughtfully.
Arthur could feel a headache coming on. "No. No killing people."
"What about sidhe?"
He resisted the urge to throw the papers at him. "You know what I meant."
A tendril of warmth curled around him, easing the burgeoning headache. "Just rest, Arthur. I'll take care of everything."
His eyelids felt as heavy as cold iron. A soft wave of tiredness washed over him. He struggled against it. "The papers," he managed.
Guinevere squeezed his hand. "They can wait a few hours."
"Wake me up then," he ordered as he let his eyes close.
