Closing Wounds, a merlin fanfic

Closing Wounds
by misscam

Summary: If anything were to happen to him, she wouldn't forgive herself, she told him. So she can't. [Arthur/Gwen]

Rating: Teen. Some references to violence, nothing too explicit. Slight elements of hurt/comfort.

Disclaimer: Not my character, just my words.

Author's Note: Set during 3x07, changing one element and taking it slightly AU from there. Thanks to clevermonikerr for beta.

If anything were to happen to him, she wouldn't forgive herself, she told him.

So she can't.

Long after they have stopped, Gwen can still hear Arthur's cries of pain; they seem to reverberate within her mind until she wants to scream too.

Torture, she thinks. Pain. Because of her. Because he cares for her and have to rescue her brother. Because she wants to believe every word he says, and he told her not to worry.

Her.

When they come for her, she knows her pain will be Arthur's too.

"Impressive," Cenred says, and his smile holds nothing good in it at all. "You endure pain well, Arthur Pendragon. But how do you endure seeing the ones you love in pain?"

Very badly indeed, Arthur thinks.

Arthur's face is pale and sweat is streaking his brow, but he still manages a faint smile as Gwen is pushed into the room. She can see angry, red lines across his chest and at least one finger looks broken. He is chained to a table, and she can see a disturbing amount of sharp objects next to him, still not bloodied.

She keeps her eyes on him, even when Cenred hits her squarely in the ribs, making her double over slightly. Arthur makes an angry noise, but she shakes her head, knowing Arthur's rage will be Cenred's pleasure, and more of her pain.

It is Arthur he turns to next, pressing a heated iron against skin for a few seconds, and Arthur cries out in pain as she holds her hands against her mouth to stop her from crying out too.

"Love," Cenred says, shaking his head lightly. "A prince and a servant. Who would have thought of such a delicious torture?"

If he didn't think it, who told him, Gwen wonders, and then tries not to think anything at all as more blows come at her.

Magic nudge by magic nudge, the door finally comes off it hinges and Merlin bolts out, finding Elyan coming around the corner at exactly that moment.

"How did you get out of the cell?" Merlin asks, and Elyan just shrugs.

"Blacksmith skills," he says. "How did you?"

"Serving the prince of Camelot skills," Merlin says, and nods vigorously.

"Do you need many skills for that?"

"You have no idea."

Arthur has stopped counting blows when Cenred finally stops; he's started counting how many times he's going to drive his sword through the villain instead.

Gwen staggers to her feet, her hair falling around her and blood dripping onto the stones. She looks up after a moment, her eyes still defiant, and he wants to kiss her for it.

Holding her gaze for a moment, he then looks at Cenred's legs, and finally back at Gwen again. After a moment, she nods slowly.

"I will tell you everything you want to know," he tells Cenred. "Just don't hurt her any more."

When Cenred leads forward to hear it all, he gets Arthur's freed fist in his face and Gwen's hands closing around his ankle, pulling it from underneath him.

Before the guard has reacted, Cenred has crashed face-down into the floor and Gwen has grabbed several sharp objects, handing one to Arthur and keeping several for herself.

"You better put those down, little lady," the guard says. He advances on her, sword raised, and she has half a second to wish she had the skills a knight has before she remembers she does have the skill a seamstress has.

She rams the sharpest object she has right where she knows no man would ever like to be poked with a pin during a fitting, and the guard makes a very strangled noise as he doubles over.

She turns, just as Arthur frees himself, grabbing Cenred's sword with one free arm and using the other to pull her close, his lips brushing her just as the door slam open.

Merlin and Elyan barge in, Arthur lets go of her and all four stare at each other for a second.

"Oh," Merlin says. He almost sounds disappointed. "You freed yourself."

"No thanks to you," Arthur says irritably. "Where is Morgana?"

"Not with us, sire," Elyan says, shooting a glance at Gwen. "Sister, are you hurt?"

"Nothing too bad," she lies, and Arthur looks sharply at her, then kicks Cenred hard in the stomach and raises his sword.

"Arthur," she says, and he looks at her, fire in his eyes. For a moment, he looks almost like Uther, then his expression softens slightly. "We need to find Morgana."

"I am going to kill him," Arthur says, but then lowers his sword slightly and walks over to collect his shirt and chainmail. "Just not today. Let us find Morgana and get home."

Merlin stays behind as the other three walk in front, watching the shadows. When Morgause moves out of them, he slams his magic into her; she makes a satisfying thump when hitting the wall.

Just one more enemy to contend with now, he knows. But she is far more deadly for not striking openly.

The Lady Morgana seems almost reluctant to be saved, Elyan notices.

It seems a strange thing for someone who would love Gwen and Prince Arthur enough to come with them on a fool's quest. It seems a very strange thing indeed, but he is no expert on nobles.

Perhaps he needs to become one, he decides, and watches Arthur hold onto Gwen's hand as they hurry through the passageways.

When they reach the horses, Arthur finally lets himself feel the pain of the last few hours, leaning against the horse as subtly as he can manage. (Which isn't subtle at all, judging by the gazes.)

Guinevere's eyes are dark as she looks at him, and she bites her lip as she turns away.

Oh, he thinks, and somehow that hurts most of all. Oh.

They ride in silence, and Morgana is grateful for it.

Merlin watches her, Gwen and Arthur carefully don't watch each other and Elyan studies all of them, but a servant's gaze is of no matter. Must be of no matter, like so many other things must be now. Friendship. Shared upbringing. Loyalty. All frozen to touch her no longer.

Nothing can touch her. (Not Merlin poisoning her. Not Uther hating what she is. Not Arthur as a brother she cannot claim. Not Gwen – if Arthur gets his will – to have a crown that should be hers. All wounds she will not let hurt her. Will not.)

At least a cold heart doesn't break.

Gaius greets them at the gates of Camelot, and hurries them all into his hut when he becomes aware of their injuries. Gwen sits numbly on one of his chairs as the older man treats Arthur first (under protest), each wound treated making her heart bleed a little.

For her, she thinks. All those wounds for her, and the guilt feels like fire in her cheeks.

Merlin invents a creative story about silk-stealing bandits to explain the wounds, glancing in her direction every now and then as if wanting her approval for it too. She can only nod weakly, until she cannot stand it any more and closes her eyes.

She hears the door open and close several times until Gaius takes her hand, and she opens her eyes to see them alone.

"There, there," he says feebly, patting her hand. "There, there. All will be well."

All is not, she thinks.

Arthur busies himself with arranging for work and a place to live for Elyan, and Merlin just trails, wondering why, if the day has been saved, everything feels a bit of a mess.

When Elyan inspects the abandoned forge, Arthur waits until Merlin catches up, and turns to him with an expression very unlike an arrogant prince's.

"Do you think she is disappointed in me?" Arthur asks in a low voice, and Merlin just stares. "Guinevere!"

"Why would she be?"

Arthur seems to debate answering for a moment, then just walks away without even an insult.

Definitely not a good sign, Merlin decides.

Gwen goes home after Gaius has finished with her, sitting down on her bed and listening till the silence until it seems to fill her.

Only then does she cry. Cries until she is breathless and no longer shaking, and feels Merlin's hands gently on her back. She has not even heard him enter, and she can't muster the strength to lie to him that all is all right.

"Gwen," he says. "You are safe. Arthur is safe. Elyan is safe. What is it?"

"They hurt Arthur," she says, gulping down air and trying to un-ball her fists. "What must he think of me?"

"The world," Merlin says simply. "Gwen, he would endure far more to know you were safe. He's acting like a prat to his knights right now because he thinks you're disappointed with him. If you don't talk him into a better mood, he will sour the whole kingdom. Camelot needs you to sweeten him."

She laughs a little, she cannot help it. Merlin smiles at her, then looks seriously at her.

"Gwen, what happens if you do not treat a wound?"

"It may not close properly. It makes it harder to heal."

"Exactly. Talk to Arthur. Close the wound. Let it heal."

Despite Merlin's many assurances that he is welcome and wanted, Arthur still finds himself hesitating before Guinevere's door.

Strange. All the monsters and the armies of the world might not bring fear into his heart, but the thought that she might think less of him, that she might not love him, that does.

Courage needs fear to overcome, or it is not courage at all, merely fearlessness, his father once told him. And so he knocks, listening to the soft steps before the door is opened.

"Arthur," she says, and he walks in, pleased she is at least greeting him by name and not by title. "I wanted to thank you for what you did. Elyan told me you are also helping him settle in Camelot. I wanted to..."

She swallows, then lifts her head in a manner of determination he always finds so lovely.

"I wanted to say I am sorry you were hurt," she says, her eyes shining with tears. "I wanted to..."

"Guinevere," he says, and she leans into him a little blindly, her breath stroking his cheek every time she exhales.

"I thought you might think less of me for not disguising my pain," he says. "As my father would."

She shakes her head wildly. "No! You are the bravest man I know, Arthur. All I thought was that it was my fault."

"No," he says, and he tips her head upwards. "It was my choice to take the risk. It's like you said, Guinevere. It's what you do when you love someone."

"I do not know if I can forgive myself," she whispers.

"You better," he warns. "I will issue a royal command that you should. Of course, you would probably disobey me."

When she smiles, he kisses her, vowing softly to himself that if anyone walks in now to interrupt, he will have them banished twice over.

No one does. Instead Gwen catches his bottom lip between hers and kisses him, her arms linking behind his neck and pulling him down to her height. Her body curves into his as he presses himself against her, and his hands traces the arch of her back.

She kisses him with such fervour he soon feels breathless, and her chest is rising and falling sharply when she finally pulls back.

"Guinevere," he says, and she smiles at him. "I would like to sleep here tonight."

Her eyes widen slightly, and she parts her lips slightly; he wants to kiss her again despite only just having parted lips.

"Not like that," he adds hurriedly. "Just to know you are safe. Actually sleep. Merlin will come for me early in the morning and I will return to the castle before anyone wakes. No one will know."

"Are you asking, not commanding?" she asks, touching his bottom lip with her thumb, an awfully distracting gesture.

"Yes," he manages, rational thought seeming to flee before him.

"Then yes," she says, and leans in.

Merlin puts the blanket closer around him as he leans against Gwen's wall. It will be a cold night to sleep outside in, but he still feels a growing warmth in his heart.

The murmured voices inside have stopped. They must have made up, and Arthur will be all sweet and awkward in the morning and maybe not even throw things. At least for a little while, until Merlin teases him about where he spent the night. (Definite proof, if he didn't have it in spades already.)

Wounds do heal. They just need the time to hurt before they close, and leave their faint scars to be remembered.

Balinor, Merlin remembers. Morgana, in the making.

Arthur and Gwen he doesn't want to have to remember at all.

During the night, Arthur wakes from a nightmare of remembered pain to find Guinevere's fingers curled loosely around his shoulder. She is watching his face, and he realises she has not been sleeping at all. His pain is echoed in her face too, as if she is feeling it with him.

If his father saw him like this, he would feel shame, he knows. Somehow, now he does not.

She touches one of his wounds carefully, and while it hurts slightly, he doesn't pull away.

"It will heal," he assures her, and she nods.

"It will," she agrees, and doesn't pull away when he kisses the bruise at her temple even though that must hurt slightly too.

"You should sleep," he tells her, but she shakes her head. "You should not worry about me."

"It's what you do when you love someone," she says, and her eyes are so very bright in the dark he needs no other light.

Oh, he thinks, and wonders how something can be so painful and so filled with joy at the same time, like a strange, delicious torture. Like love. Might break his heart, but at least it is a heart.

Then he doesn't think much at all, Guinevere kissing him until he can feel his pulse on her lips; it feels strangely in sync with his own.

FIN