#i sliced my arm open and bled profusely and never quite got all of it out

[hellenhighwater]

Hmm....how hard can large scale mosaic possibly be? I feel like my plans for the room I'm working on could use something really shiny and impactful and maybe I want to make a fold-down cutting table and maybe I want to do it out of mosaic, even though that will be ungodly heavy.

It's a fun idea. I'm not sure if it's a good idea.

I haven't done mosaic since a one-off high school art class but I feel like the component skills are ones I already have, sooooo....

I have been keeping to a blue and gold celestial theme for both my guest room and my art workspaces, because if and when I move those spaces are likely to be combined. Cutting table, even though it would be for a different room, falls in the same vein, so I'm thinking something with a nice dark night sky and maybe some branches or leaves...

[rosedavid]

Slip-Ups

A Merthur hurt/comfort fanfic

tw // blood and injury description //

Prompt: Merlin gets injured nothing too serious, but Arthur gets into super over protective mode and refuses to leave his side. Throughout the day people keep coming in to remind him of his princely duties, but Morgana ends up blocking them and sending them away so that Arthur can spend time helping Merlin.

...

             Usually, Merlin is more careful than this. Okay, well, careful to an extent. There’s a difference between being carefully reckless and just reckless all together. Today, though, he’s particularly on edge. It’s been a tedious week full of constant running about. Arthur’s seemed to be in an especially bad mood recently, as well, probably because he’s been just as busy as Merlin. With his duties as King starting to mount up to incredulous levels, Arthur’s been at wit’s end recently trying to manage his new role and duties. As a result, he’s been working everyone harder; his advisors, the knights, and of course Merlin himself. With every usual duty, Arthur decides to stack on three more for Merlin to do, with a quick grumble of, “Hurry it up!”

             Now, completely exhausted and frustrated, Merlin is in Arthur’s chambers at night haphazardly finishing the prat’s chores. All Merlin wants is to collapse into bed and sleep for the next few days, although he knows that won’t be possible. His stomach growls as he cleans up. Despite his previous reservations about Gaius’s meals, nothing sounds better right now than a big bowl of gruel.

             “Stupid King Prat,” Merlin growls to himself, scrubbing ruthlessly at Arthur’s filthy armor. “Merlin, you missed a speck of dust on my armor! I’ll have you thrown in the stocks! Merlin, my sword is getting rusty! I’ll show him.”

             The worst part is that before all of this, Arthur was actually starting to be (sort of) nice. Until this week, Merlin hadn’t been forced to muck out the stables in months. Although their constant bickering continued then, it was lighter than usual, more playful. Things had been going well, in other words. And now, Merlin feels like he’s been dragged through the mud.

             After sufficiently getting his anger out scrubbing Arthur’s already clean armor, Merlin switches to the sword resting on the table’s edge. This is where things go horribly wrong. So pent up with frustration and weariness, Merlin grapples above him blindly for the sword, still muttering insults. In that moment, he fails to grab the correct end of the sword. Instead, his hand slices against the sharp edges of the sword. He bites back a curse, yanking his hand away. Of course, since luck loves Merlin at the moment, the sword comes with it, slicing even further down to his wrist.

             Merlin clutches at his bleeding hand shakily. Blood pools in his palm, red tendrils slipping down his arm and dripping on the just washed floors. Still trying to comprehend what just happened, Merlin stares at the drops of blood, watching as they fall from his hand. This, of course, is when Arthur chooses to stumble into his chambers.

             “You would not believe the day I had!” Arthur groans, stomping through the doors. “I can’t even breathe without someone telling me I’m doing it wrong! Not to mention, my incompetent manservant doesn’t even have dinner ready for me!”

             Merlin continues staring at the blood numbly. Realizing that Merlin isn’t biting back like usual, Arthur finally turns toward him with an open mouth ready to berate Merlin yet again for something trivial. But the words die on his lips when he catches sight of the boy bleeding all over the floor.

             “Merlin!” He cries out, rushing over to the boy. “You idiot! You’re bleeding all over the place.”

             “Am I?” Merlin wonders, head going a bit fuzzy. Along with the blood loss and lack of food and sleep, his consciousness is gradually wavering.

             “What in God’s name happened?!”

             “Had to clean your sword, prat,” Merlin slurs, the conversation bringing him back a bit into reality. Also, the reality of his pain. “Ouch. That hurts a bit.”

             Arthur rolls his eyes, and if Merlin didn’t know any better, he would think Arthur looked scared behind his façade. But why would Arthur be scared? It may be a lot of blood, but it’s just a cut; Gaius will have him stitched up in no time at all. Besides, based on this week, Arthur didn’t seem to care too much about Merlin’s well-being. Why would he suddenly care now?

             “What did you do, gouge your hand open?” Arthur frowns, tearing off a piece of his own tunic before Merlin can protest. He then kneels by Merlin’s side.

             Merlin hisses as Arthur presses the tunic firmly into the crevice of his palm. “Now I hafta…mend that too, prat.”

             Arthur doesn’t respond; instead, he furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips as he applies more pressure to Merlin’s still bleeding wound. “Think you can stand?”

             “’Course I can stand!” Merlin argues. To prove his point, he abruptly pushes himself off the ground, only to find the world spinning around him. He gasps, tipping dangerously. Luckily, Arthur still has his firm grasp on Merlin’s bleeding hand, so the instant he starts swaying, he falls into Arthur’s side instead of back onto the floor. Merlin blinks away black spots and tries to ignore the pain lacing from his hand.

             “….almost fell, you idiot!” Arthur’s voice comes back into focus. “What if I hadn’t been here? Would you have just bled out on my floor?”

             “I’m fine,” Merlin stresses again.

             “You’re ridiculous, Merlin. Come on, let’s get you to Gaius.”

             With that, Arthur takes Merlin’s good arm and wraps it around his own neck. Then, he wraps one arm around Merlin’s waist while the other continues to hold the now soaked rag tightly to Merlin’s wound. It’s an awkward position that makes it hard to walk, but somehow they manage to make it all the way to Gaius without Merlin passing out (although they had to stop a few times to avoid it).

             Arthur yanks open the door, immediately alerting Gaius to their presence. With the combination of Arthur’s panicked expression and blood still dripping onto the floor beneath Merlin, Gaius stands up quickly to help.

             “My goodness, what happened?” Gaius asks, bringing Merlin over to the nearest patient cot. Arthur helps ease Merlin down into a sitting position while Gaius gathers supplies, including a clean rag to continue to staunch the flow of blood.

             “Sword fell,” Merlin mumbles grumpily, not wanting to hear Arthur’s recount of the tale complete with insults and jibes at his manservant.

             “Will he be okay?” Arthur buts in, holding the new rag to Merlin’s hand per Gaius’s instruction.

             Gaius briefly lifts the rag against Merlin’s cut up to inspect the wound. It’s still bleeding, but not quite as profusely as it was before. “Yes, sire. It will require some stiches and it will be sore for a few days, but you got him here fast enough that infection shouldn’t start in.”

             Arthur lets out a deep breath, stepping back to allow Gaius to clean Merlin’s wound. To Merlin’s credit, he only winces and hisses through his teeth as Gaius cleans up the wound. After all the excitement, though, Arthur can clearly see the fatigue covering Merlin. Guiltily, Arthur stares at him, suddenly realizing just how harsh he’s been to his manservant this week. It’s not like Arthur meant to, it’s just with all the pressures of his new duties as well as his newfound feelings…he thought it best to put Merlin away and to work. If he hadn’t made Merlin do so many chores, perhaps Merlin wouldn’t be injured so badly.

             “Drink this, Merlin, it will put you to sleep while I do your stitches,” Gaius coaxes, bringing a vial of probably foul-tasting liquid to his lips. Merlin doesn’t complain, though, simply swallowing it quickly. In an instant, his eyes begin to get heavy, world blurring around him, before he finally falls into a deep slumber.

             Arthur stares at Merlin for an unknown amount of time before Gaius clears his throat. When Arthur looks back up, he realizes that Merlin’s wound has been all stitched up. It gives him a clear view of the length of the cut, extending from the top of Merlin’s palm down to the bottom of his wrist.

             “He is okay, sire,” Gaius reassures him, placing one comforting hand on his shoulder. Arthur nods through clenched teeth. “Sire, if I may…the guards came by asking for you a few minutes ago. You have a meeting to attend soon. Perhaps you should get yourself cleaned up.”

             Arthur is confused at first because one, he doesn’t remember the guards coming by the physician’s chambers, and two, he doesn’t know why Gaius says he should clean himself up. He only begins to understand the second one when he finally takes a look at his hands, caked with dried blood. Merlin’s blood.

             He doesn’t want to leave Merlin’s side for a second, but he also knows that he can’t forget his duties as King. Conflicted, Arthur looks back at Merlin’s pale face tucked into the side of the pillow with a fondness he never knew he possessed.

             “I shouldn’t leave him,” Arthur decides. “Not like this.”

             “I understand your concerns, sire, but what if I had one of the knights sit with Merlin in your absence? Sir Gwaine would be willing, I’m sure.”

             Arthur considers it, but shakes his head. “No, I just…I can’t leave him like this, Gaius. W-what if this was my fault? It’s been a busy week, and I’ve been working him really hard, probably harder than he deserves—”

             “Arthur,” Gaius addresses kindly. “It’s been a busy week for us all. Everyone is tired and frustrated, including Merlin. It sounds to me like it was just an accident, nothing more. You couldn’t have prevented that.”

             Arthur purses his lips but says nothing. Meanwhile, Gaius pulls up a seat beside Arthur, gently coaxing him down into it. “Let me at least get you a fresh basin and rag to wash your hands off, sire.”

             “Yes, that would be good. Thank you,” Arthur clears his throat, not wanting to see this much of Merlin’s blood ever again.

             As Arthur sits there through the remainder of the evening, guards and members of the court come and go, trying to coax Arthur away with no success. Despite some of their glares toward Arthur’s manservant, and some frankly rude comments, Arthur refuses to budge. A few hours later, he thinks that the guards are about to forcefully drag him out of the room when an unlikely hero comes to his rescue.

             “Can’t you see the King is doing something important already?! He’s been at everyone’s beck and call all week, so I think you can survive without him for one goddamn night!” a feminine voice shouts outside the hallway. Then, there are determined footsteps before the door is being opened and closed gently, a large contrast to the tone mere seconds ago.

             Morgana stands in front of the doorway, as regal and snarky as ever. Even though Arthur tends to butt heads with Morgana more than he does anyone else, he suddenly feels a great relief for her actions. As much as he hates to admit it, he probably owes her one, but he’ll think about that later. Right now, as per Gaius’s instructions who left to take care of a woman giving birth in the lower town, Arthur needs to keep his eyes on Merlin to be sure an infection won’t take hold.

             Silently, Morgana strides over to the other side of Merlin’s cot, where the boy lies deathly still and pale. The only thing keeping Arthur from completely losing it is watching the steady rise and fall of Merlin’s chest. That, and clutching at Merlin’s uninjured hand, which he drops when Morgana comes into the room (although he’s pretty certain she saw since Morgana has eyes like a hawk).

             “He looks exhausted,” Morgana comments, glancing at the boy’s stitched up hand.

             “Yeah,” Arthur agrees quietly, eyes latched on Merlin.

             “You look exhausted too, Arthur.”

             Arthur waves her off. “I’m fine. It doesn’t matter anyway, I have to stay awake to take care of him.”

             “Well, you won’t be any use to him if you pass out.”

             “ But I can’t—”

             “I will watch over him, Arthur,” Morgana interrupts. “I am Merlin’s friend too, after all. Although I have a feeling that he may mean something more to you.”

             A red flush brightens on Arthur’s cheeks, a mix between embarrassment, anger, and thoughts of Merlin. “Morgana!”

             “Hush, I have eyes, you know. I can tell you’re both infatuated with each other. Please, Arthur, go lie down and rest.”

             “If you truly know, then you understand I can’t leave him.”

             Morgana purses her lips in thought. “Then take Merlin’s bed. I’m completely sure he wouldn’t mind. Gaius or myself will wake you when Merlin wakes up, himself.”

             The thought of sleeping in Merlin’s bed sends shivers down Arthur’s spine. It’s not like the bed is anything special based on when Arthur has seen it. In fact, it’s probably more uncomfortable than most of the beds in the castle. But because it’s Merlin’s bed, it won’t feel uncomfortable to Arthur. He hates to admit when Morgana is right, but she has a few good points. Too tired to argue anymore, Arthur takes Merlin’s hand again and squeezes it, bidding him goodnight. Morgana takes his place, hand lingering on Arthur’s forearm.

             “Promise you will wake me if anything at all happens?”

             “Yes, Arthur. I will. Now please, you look worse than Merlin. Get some rest. Merlin will be fine.”

             Arthur barely registers climbing up the steps to Merlin’s room. He practically collapses onto the bed. He breathes in a combination of the smell of soap and Merlin. It’s like home. Nuzzling his face into Merlin’s pillow, Arthur almost instantly falls asleep.

…

The sunlight is the first thing to wake him up, streaming through the window and lighting up the entire room. The second thing he registers is the sound of people moving about in the kitchen. Although Arthur wants nothing more than to curl back under the covers and fall asleep, his waking thoughts immediately drift once again to Merlin. What if Merlin is awake? Or what if he’s worse than before? Arthur shoots up out of the bed immediately while thoughts plague his head. He’s aware of how gross he probably looks and smells, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Stumbling out of the room, his eyes search out the familiar black mop of hair. He finds it quickly, still tousled as Merlin sleeps on the cot. Morgana has now been replaced by Gwen, who is helping Gaius organize some herbs and medicines.

“Gaius, how is he?” Arthur clears his throat, trying to sound less worried than he really is. Based on Gaius’s raised eyebrow, it doesn’t work.

“He’s doing well, sire,” Gaius responds with a slight smile. “He stirred a bit in the night, but fell into a deeper sleep. But based on the medicine I gave him, I bet he’ll be waking up anytime now.”

Somewhat relieved, Arthur goes to take his place at Merlin’s side again, but Gwen coaxes him away. “Have some food, your majesty. Based on what Morgana told me, you haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”

Begrudgingly, Arthur sits down at the table, biting into an apple. He is hungry, but right now food just doesn’t sound appetizing. Still, he manages to eat a bit, even chatting with Gwen about random goings on in the town. It’s only about half an hour later when Merlin begins to fidget.

Arthur, of course, is the first one by his side. Merlin squirms, wincing as he rolls over on his stitched hand. Arthur rolls his eyes before helping un-trap Merlin’s hand. As he grabs Merlin’s hand, one finger traces beside the stitches in a delicate, almost not-there touch. Finally, Merlin’s eyes flutter open, looking dazed.

“ ‘Thur?” Merlin murmurs, squinting up at him.

“Yes, you dollop-head, it’s me,” Arthur teases, still stroking his hand.

“That’s my word.”

“Is it? Because I think it describes you much better.”

Gaius takes that moment to interrupt. “Merlin, how are you feeling?”

Merlin hums, sitting up more. “I feel fine. Hand’s a bit sore, but otherwise I’m okay. Can I get up, stretch my legs?”

“As long as you take care not to exhaust yourself, that should be fine.”

Arthur frowns, “Are you sure, Gaius? I mean, Merlin was just badly injured. Should he really be up and about already?”

“I’m okay Arthur, truly,” Merlin smiles. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried about me.”

In a rare moment of affection, Arthur blurts out, “Of course I was worried about you, idiot!”

Merlin gapes. “Y-you were?”

“Merlin—I found you dripping with your own blood, and it was my fault. I thought—I mean, what if I hadn’t been there in time? You could have bled out!”

Merlin’s face goes stern. “Arthur, this wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was my fault. I should have been more careful.”

“I should have noticed how exhausted you were, though. I’ve just been so caught up in everything…”

Arthur feels a hand intertwine with his own. His heart picks up speed, and Merlin looks at him hesitantly. Arthur makes no move to pull away, simply squeezing Merlin’s good hand with his own. Merlin softens at that, unconsciously leaning towards him.

“You were kind of being a prat,” Merlin admits, earning him a glare. “but I know you’ve been overwhelmed recently, too, with everything that’s been going on. I don’t blame you at all.”

Arthur swallows. “Yes, well, I suppose you deserve a day off after all this.”

At this, Merlin snorts. “How generous, my lord.”

“Hey, I can take that day away!”

Both of them are beaming by now, impossibly closer to each other. With a tenderness seldom shown to anyone else, Arthur brushes a stray strand of Merlin’s hair from out of his eyes, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Merlin leans into his touch.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Arthur whispers, stroking his temple with one thumb. There’s so much they need to say, but right now isn’t the time. Instead, they both stand there, taking each other in. There will be time for sorting everything out properly later. Right now, they are content to relish each other’s company.

“Me, too.”