AN: Hi guys! Just dropping in to write a little story for a while, since I've managed to make my fingers bleed because I can't seem to sew a hem on anything without stabbing myself with the needle, plus the pins I'm using in order to keep the material as it should be while I sew.

But that's beside the point. This one...this one's a bit heavier than I usually write. I actually generally avoid the hell out of any sort of self-harm topic at all, now that I think about it. I've touched on self-hatred a little bit before, but never to the point that it was like this.

There will NOT be any trigger scenes, any real description of active self-injury. I can't handle writing it very well. That being said, it will be hinted at, if that bothers you, please turn back now.

This is a real problem, if you ever think about doing something like this, please talk to someone, but do not harm yourself. I promise it isn't worth it.

Anyway, with that said, enjoy.

None of the Knights understood why Merlin was constantly wearing long sleeves and a jacket. Especially with the summer months upon them, it struck them as odd.

Sure, there were times they'd see the servant without his jacket, and his shirt sleeves rolled up as he worked on some menial chore to pass time during their training, usually polishing armor or sharpening the swords.

No one ever questioned the strange habits, but Arthur had to admit, he was growing worried about it himself. He couldn't place why, after all, there seemed to be nothing wrong with his servant and friend.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

It was one of these days that Mordred, the newest of all of them, noticed scars littering Merlin's arms, as well as a steak of dull red hiding on Merlin's left arm, pressed against his trousers.

"Merlin...?" Mordred asked, pausing in his trek to from at the older sorcerer.

Merlin brought his gaze up to meet the Druid's eyes before he returned to his work.

"What's on your arms?" Mordred asked, his tone more pressing this time.

Merlin froze in his movement, looking back up to meet Mordred's eyes. He gave him a strange look, speaking quietly, glad the other Knights weren't paying attention. "Scars. You think protecting Arthur and Camelot comes without them?"

Mordred gave a hollow smile, nodding in acceptance of the answer and continuing on his way.

Merlin hesitated before he sighed and went back to his work.

A few others noticed throughout the next several weeks. And each time, Merlin drew further away from them. And each time, Mordred took note that the state of the warlock's arms was worse.

But he never said anything about it to the others, which Merlin was eternally grateful for. But he brought it up to the young Knight through their mental link during a meeting.

"You haven't mentioned it to anyone. Why?"

Mordred's eyes flitted to Merlin before returning to their King as he responded. "Not my secret to tell, Emrys. Though I hate knowing it, I won't reveal it. That is for you to do on your own terms. Just...try to stop. Please."

Nothing more was said.

But Mordred noticed the new injuries slowly stopped showing up and graced Merlin with a happy smile.

And for all Merlin wanted to return it, he couldn't.

After every fight to keep Arthur and Camelot safe, Merlin came out feeling worse and worse. But no one knew. No one could see how much doubt he held about himself. How useless he felt when he failed to protect everyone he cared for.

And this time, not even Mordred's soft request kept him from his blade.

He'd found himself sitting on the broken wall, staring out at the horizon absently, alone, on one such evening. He glanced aside to where his jacket lay, the knife he had hidden within it. He hesitated, glancing down at his scars before he sighed.

Merlin didn't show up to do his job that morning, and Arthur found himself torn between annoyance and worry. He sighed, ignoring his breakfast in order to go track his utterly hopeless manservant down.

But when he turned out not to be in his room, Arthur paused. Gauis had said that Merlin hadn't returned to the chambers the previous evening.

And for all the times he'd gone to the tavern to Arthur's knowledge, this couldn't be one of them. Or Gauis wouldn't look as concerned as he was over the young warlock.

As Arthur set out to find him, Mordred stumbled across him, looking scared half to death.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, not breaking stride as Mordred turned and joined him.

"It's Merlin, sire,"

Arthur looked at him, motioning for him to lead the way and then having to all but sprint to keep up with the Druid.

And honestly, for all he had thought to expect, this wasn't it.

Arthur paled slightly at the sight of the blood pooled around his servant's arm, the deathly paleness that his skin had taken on, and the bloodied knife that was halfway across the room, looking as if it had been thrown in fear.

As he took a step closer, he could see a small trail of blood still leaking from Merlin's arm.

"Go tell Gauis to expect us in a moment. Take the knife with you," he demanded before moving to gather Merlin in his arms, grabbing the discarded jacket as well and following Mordred as quick as he could.

That day, most of the Knights asked of Merlin's whereabouts. None of them noticed the pain in Mordred's eyes, or the confusion in Arthur's.

Arthur only shook his head in response to most of these questions.

Eventually, Leon spoke. "What happened?"

Silence fell and Arthur found himself unable to say it, unable to even think what the ever-happy servant had done.

Mordred spoke for him, though, his voice soft and filled with worry. "He...hurt himself pretty badly,"

"Did he fall down another flight of stairs?" Gwaine questioned with a whisper of a grin showing up.

But Arthur looked at him with such sorrow that it faded.

"No. He took a knife to his arm and almost bled to death. Would have, had Mordred not found him and brought me to him when he did."

A sharp silence followed this statement and they all returned to their duties not long after.

When Merlin rejoined them again, he was smiling happily, but they could see the pain in his eyes as he moved his still bound arm.

"Hurts, does it?" Arthur asked, giving his servant a knowing look.

Merlin sighed, shrugging. "I've felt worse,"

No one asked when or how he could say this. Just as no one questioned the fact that Merlin didn't ask them for help when he struggled with some of his chores.

"I wish I could've saved you from this pain, Emrys," Mordred said to him through their link a while later.

Merlin glanced at him before he sighed. "You can't save me from myself. No one can, except me,"

"Doesn't mean we won't try," Mordred muttered to him stubbornly.

Merlin gave him a happy grin, and they let it slide.

It took a while, and a lot of stubbornness on his friends' parts, but eventually, Merlin opened up and mentioned when he needed help.

And honestly, that was a huge step coming from the warlock.

One that everyone hoped he didn't retract later on.

Thanks for reading.

Bye guys.

-Sky