Chapter Text
Merlin knows this is a terrible idea. Going searching for herbs on his own while people are going missing due to rumors of slavers is really one of the worst ideas he has had yet. All he had to do was ask a knight to go with him so he wouldn’t be on his own like Arthur ordered but he didn’t listen. He doesn’t even know why he didn’t, there isn’t even any magic involved so any of the knights theoretically would have been happy to help. In fact, everyone had handled finding out about his magic surprisingly well and Merlin wasn’t sure how to react now as he has feared their reactions for years and always imagined anger.
Merlin hadn’t even meant to tell them of his magic but he had a bit too much wine with Arthur one night and blurted it out. Arthur had been furious with him at first, believing him to be an idiot for risking learning magic for his sake. His king had yelled at him for being the biggest buffoon in Camelot and broke down into tears over the belief that the magic would eventually corrupt him like it had Morgana. They spent most of the night discussing magic and how it truly works as it can be the power that corrupts, not the magic itself. Merlin did most of the talking with Arthur occasionally interrupting to insult him for risking his life constantly. By early morning, most of the anger Arthur originally felt was gone but anyone who claims the man isn’t petty has never actually met the man.
Arthur got his revenge the next day when they told the knights of the round table of Merlin’s many chaotic adventures with magic. Their responses had come to a bit of a surprise to Merlin as they seemed more concerned about his health than his magic. They were quick to connect the conveniently falling branches and constant bouts of clumsiness some of the bandits suffered to be Merlin. Gwaine even proclaimed he always knew there was something special about Merlin as he slung an arm over the man’s skinny shoulders. He then grumbles about Merlin not telling them sooner as magic could make his ale never run dry but Arthur was quick to ban Merlin from ever doing such a thing.
Unfortunately for the noble knight Lancelot, he has been receiving a bit of the cold shoulder for knowing just how far Merlin’s recklessness can go and not warning the others. The young warlock had been oblivious towards how protective the knights are of him up until now and was quite surprised. He honestly has been unsure on how to handle it, hence being part of the reason he snuck off on his own. The knights have been insisting on teaching him self defense with and without weapons as magic can’t always be used as a first resort as it is still banned in Camelot. Arthur is working with Gaius and Geoffrey to change those laws but it’s taking time as he wants to truly understand what all magic can do. Not to mention there are still dark areas of magic that need to remain banned.
With the knowledge that Arthur will be busy for hours and wanting to escape the knights being so overprotective, Merlin uses the need for herbs as a mental excuse to run off to the possibly slaver infested forest. He can already hear Lancelot in his head, sighing in defeat as he has run off on his own again and is ignoring the fact that all he has to do is ask for help and it will be given. Gwaine joins in his mental conversation too, whining about not getting a chance to skip training again as he would have an actual excuse this time! The friendly drunk loves to use any excuse he can to avoid training and is already on Arthur’s nerves for sleeping in and having to be drugged to practice the morning before. Merlin loves hanging out with Gwaine but he wasn’t going to be the reason the man gets into more trouble for once.
So here Merlin is, all alone in the forest, with no one to blame but himself as slave traders slowly surround him. Slavery is banned in Camelot and has been for many years, but when have criminals ever been known to listen to the law? As the men grow closer, the warlock’s magic starts to buzz, warning him that something is near and it isn’t friendly. He glances up and around, doing his best to take in his surroundings while hiding his fear from whatever is watching. Merlin shakes his head as a sudden wave of dizziness hits him and he once again questions why he thought going off on his own would end well.
Just before an archer is about to let his notched arrow fly from his bow, Merlin’s magic screams for him to RUN! He shoots up, right in the knick of time, as the arrow sails through the air. As he frantically glances around at his surroundings, the arrow head pierces his thigh and a large portion of the shaft enters his flesh. Had he moved any slower, the wound would have been much more deadly somewhere in his side. A scream of agony exits his lips as pain travels deeply throughout his leg. The young man does his best to run as his wounded leg drags slightly behind him and wonders why his magic reacted so late in warning him of the danger. Was it because it was him and not Arthur? Had he been less vigilant of his surroundings because it was just skinny little him?
Merlin pushes the thoughts away as the men jeer and laugh at his attempt to escape. They make no attempt to follow him at his sluggish pace, confident that he will be caught quickly. This is a sick and twisted game for them and he is an unwilling participant. He has never hated hunting any more than now as he now vividly knows how wounded animals feel when being hunted. Does he risk using his magic and possibly make himself even more valuable to the slavers? Oh goddess, why didn’t he listen to Arthur and Gaius for once!?
“Run while you still can, boy!” “Give us a good chase and we might not break your legs!” “Is that as fast as you can go, you little welp?” The men’s taunts ever so slowly grow quieter as Merlin drags himself as fast as he can. He knows he is leaving a very obvious trail filled with blood for the outlaws to follow and frantically tries to come up with a plan when he slips. His already weakening body takes a beating as he tumbles down a steep and muddy slope. The taste of iron fills his mouth as he accidentally chomps down on his tongue in the fall. The wounded manservant does his best not to outright scream as his lies limp in the mud for a moment. He needs to get up but he knows there is no point as he can’t outrun these men.
Tears stream down his face as pain seems to burn throughout his body. He can feel sharp rocks on the ground poking into his limbs as he slowly picks himself back up from the puddle of mudd. Merlin spits the muddy, blood filled saliva from his mouth and runs a shaky hand through his hair to remove the sticks and leaves when an idea strikes him. Glancing down at himself, he can tell that he is fully covered in mud and starts to grab fallen leaves. Luckily, it is harvest season so many trees look dead and are barren of leaves as they all coat the ground below in reds, oranges, browns, and yellows.
His mind feels fuzzy as he grows weak from the blood loss but thankfully the mud is packing up the leg wound and slowing down the bleed. The arrow shaft is snapped in half and probably happened during his fall and Merlin tears off a strip of his tunic to tie around the wound. Focusing on his magic as he limps over to a tree, Merlin creates a breeze to shift the leaves across his trail to hide it away. He bites down on his neckerchief to hold back his screams as he pulls himself up into the tree and prays to the maiden, mother, and crone that the mud and leaves cover him enough to work as a good disguise.
He trembles in fear as he hears the slavers yell as they chase after his trail and shakes as he clings to the tree's trunk several feet up in the air. His magic engulfs him as an extra layer of protection to hide him away from the outlaw’s views. All he can do is wait and watch and the men grow louder as they track him down like an animal. They loudly discuss how much a “littl’in like this one” will go for on the market to build up his fear if he is nearby. Merlin watches as they grow closer and tramp carelessly over the trail he left when fleeing.
The servant holds back his sigh of relief knowing there will be little trail from him left to follow when they have to backtrack. Arthur has attempted several times to instill tracking skills into his manservant and the biggest lesson of all is always to preserve the trail in case you lose it. That way, you can backtrack and look around the area to see if you missed something. With the many muddy boots stomping around as the men chase his trail, none of it will be left to find. These men are arrogant as they never believed he had a chance to escape but as he watches them search from above, their arrogance turns to anger as he is nowhere to be found.
Merlin lets his head knock against the tree trunk in relief as the men turn their anger onto one another and argue over who lost the boy. They split up and ruin whatever may have been left of his tracks. He waits until sure that the men are long gone before shifting his back against the trunk and pulling his injured leg up onto his sturdy branch. His hands shake as he unties his bloody bandage and grabs his water skin from his bag to clean out the wound. Biting down on his neckerchief again, he digs into the wound to remove the arrow head.
Blood spurts out of the hole as soon as the arrow head comes out and Merlin does his best to apply enough pressure to block off the flow. Keeping one hand firmly on his leg, he balances his bag on his side and pulls out the needed herbs to prevent infection that may have already begun to set in. The skin is an angry red and swollen as Merlin chews up the herbs as he has no other way to turn them into a paste and slathers it generously along the wound. Tearing a new section of his tunic that is only slightly cleaner than the bloodied strip, he wraps his leg up again and ties it.
Not planning on leaving his tree any time soon as it risks capture and possible death, Merlin settles into his spot on the sturdy branch and does his best to get comfortable. His body suffers sudden shivers constantly as a fever has fully set in and he fears for his leg as if an infection grows out of control, one typically is not lucky enough to be able to keep the infected limb intact. It is a bloody procedure that he has unfortunately had to assist Gaius in a time or two and doesn't wish for himself to be the next they are forced to cut apart.
Time passes by slowly and Merlin has little idea as to how long he stays up there but he isn’t ashamed to crying at the sound of Gwaine and Elyan voices. He had heard the sounds of voices from a distance and feared it was the men hunting him and nearly fell out of his spot when he realized they were calling out his name! Arthur and the others were looking for him. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion but with every blink, Gwaine and Elyan grew closer to him. He tries to call out to them, “Up here!,” but his voice croaks out weakly and is far too quiet to be heard. A racking cough shakes his body and his movement rustles the tree which grabs the two men’s attention.
“Merlin!?” They shout and Merlin’s only response is to continue coughing, making some of the leaves stuck to him to fall off. He faintly hears Elyan telling Gwaine he is going to grab the others and runs off. The roguish knight rushes up to his friend and yells up, “You alright Merls? I know I joke about you being a little bird but you’re too clumsy to be up in the trees mate.” With his limbs locked in position from the cold and too weak to safely climb down on his own, Merlin weakly yells down that he’s a bit stuck. The man responds by telling him to stay put and strips off his cloak, sword, belt, and chainmail. Merlin weakly mumbles that he “wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
Gwaine reaches Merlin and hisses sympathetically at the sight of his leg wound. “Careful now Merls, easy does it.” The knight says gently as he holds onto his friend. They climb down together limb by limb with Gwaine doing his best to hold up most of Merlin’s weight and near the end of the climb, the others arrive. The knight sees them before Merlin does and speaks up before Arthur can start to scold Merlin. “Grab him princess, looks like ‘e’s took a stabbing to the thigh.” Arthur doesn’t argue with Gwaine for once about who gives the orders and grabs hold of Merlin before he reaches the ground.
“What did you do Merlin, roll in the mud during your escape?!” The king asks as mud and leaves fall from the smaller man as he shivers. Merlin explains how he fell and used the mud to hide and stuck leaves to himself as a disguise up in the tree and Leon cuts off Arthur to compliment his plan. Then the traitor turns around and scolds him for being so reckless as to go off on his own like he did. Arthur allows Leon to lecture as the man has a large pair of lungs that loves to yap about grain reports. The first knight goes on about how extremely lucky Merlin is that they found him instead of the men that harmed him. Merlin knows this and weakly nods along as his hair falls into his eyes and is gently placed down on the grass. Knowing that he is going to be okay as the knights are here, Merlin gives in to his exhaustion and lets himself rest.