Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

Author's Note: This one-shot is for CherryAmes15, who wanted Merlin to hide an injury from Arthur and therefore pay the price. I hope I exceed your expectations, CherryAmes15. Please let me know your thoughts.

Chapter Eight

It was an Earl Grey morning, and Merlin lay bundled under purple haze sleeping bag. He shivered in his sleep, teeth chattering behind blue tinged lips. Arthur sat nearby; head lolling against a tree, chest moving up and down with every breath. With the dusty dawn, both men's breath puffed like a dying fire. Crows squawked above, flinching Arthur awake. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he grumbled to Merlin.

"Merlin," Arthur stumbled to his feet, boots crunching over stiff yellow grass. "Why don't I smell breakfast?"

There was no reply.

"Merlin. Merlin, get up." Arthur stood overtop Merlin's sleeping form, nudging him with his boot. A soft moan escaped Merlin's lips, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Oh for God's sake, Merlin. It is not your job to sleep, you lazy-" Arthur stopped short as he tore the blanket from Merlin.

"My God." Arthur's voice was a whisper. Merlin's shirt was tinged a muted plum color, sticky yet stiff with dried blood. "What happened to you, Merlin?"

Merlin's skin was waxy cream the color of Arthur's bedsheets.

"I wouldn't know what the bedsheets looked like if you could make the bed right," Arthur muttered, his fingertips picking sensitively at Merlin' shirt.

Pulling the navy fabric up past Merlin's belly button, he revealed a gruesome gash. Spanning from rip cage to hip, an angry gap of flesh oozed mustard puss. The site tightened Arthur's throat around his Adam's apple. Nostrils flaring, he blinked away forming tears. Arthur can't breathe in, can't breathe out. His hands quiver, afraid to drown in Merlin's life blood seeping into the dirt.

"You idiot," his voice cracked.

Stoking dying embers, threading a hooked needle, Arthur racked every column of his brain for an answer. He'd kept Merlin by his side, kept him busy. There was no way in Camelot he could've been attacked.

"Then what explains this." Arthur growled, his hands smeared with jam like blood from Merlin's newly closed wound. Merlin whimpered at Arthur's gruff voice, his teeth worrying with cold.

"Merlin?" Arthur touched his palm to Merlin's forehead, which was riddled with sweat.

"You listen to me. You can't annoy me if I'm alone. Alright? So you gotta stay—" Arthur paused, "How long are you going to make me wait, you imbecile."

Midday.

Supper.

Evening.

Vermillion sun sloshed through bare branches, wet grass bleaching Arthur's boots. Merlin shifted in his sleep, fingertips twitching.

"Merlin?" Arthur quickly crawled to Merlin's head, testing the temperature again. Merlin mumbled something, his dark eyelashes fluttering. And then, a bright blue orb peaked from one open eye. It twinkled.

Arthur chuckled. "You don't die easy, do you?"