[Third Person POV]
Arthur looked over at Merlin, his sharp eyes softening as he took in the state she was in. Her skin, usually so smooth and near flawless, was marred with burns and redness in several places. Her robes and garments, once pristine, were now torn, scorched, and barely clinging to her frame, exposing faint glimpses of the underwear beneath.
Without hesitation, he stripped off his robe. It was in no better condition—tattered, singed, and stiff from the frost in the air—but he didn't care. Even though it left him more vulnerable to the freezing winds biting at his skin, he draped the ragged coat over her shoulders with a kind of natural ease, protecting her from the cold and, more importantly, shielding her from the unwanted gaze of the world.
"Here," he said simply, his voice casual, almost offhanded, as though the gesture cost him nothing.
Merlin tilted her head and smiled softly, touched by the act. Her eyes roamed over him, he was in no better shape—burns marred his arms and torso, his forehead was split and smeared with blood that clung stubbornly to his hair, and his once white dress shirt had been reduced to a grimy, soot-stained rag. Most of the sleeves had been burnt away entirely, leaving the skin beneath exposed to the elements. Despite all that, he still stood tall, still carried himself with the same stubborn pride.
What Merlin found most endearing however was the subtle flush of pink on his nose and cheeks from the cold. For a fleeting moment, he looked almost boyish. Unable to resist, she reached out and pinched his cheek, chuckling when his eyes widened in surprise.
"You are just so adorable~," she teased, her voice sing-song with amusement.
Arthur immediately swatted her hand away, scowling as his lips curved into a pout. "I'm not adorable…" he muttered, fumbling as he slid his gloves back on, picking his sword up, spinning it around, and sliding it neatly back into the scabbard at his hip. His pride practically radiated from him, though the red still lingered on his face.
"Oh, but you are," Merlin teased again, her eyes glittering with mischief. Then, as if to rub salt in the wound, she added, "I think you've forgotten that I can just use magic to fix us right up. So really, that little gesture of yours wasn't necessary."
Arthur stiffened and turned away slightly, his ears now betraying his flustered state, though he tried to play it cool. Merlin giggled, her expression softening as she placed a hand gently over the robe he had given her. "Still… it was thoughtful. Much appreciated, Arthur. Thank you."
He pouted, grumbling under his breath, "Magic just takes the romance out of things, that's all. It's not like I forgot, per se…"
"Right," Merlin said with a dramatic roll of her eyes, though her lips twitched upward in amusement as she watched him shrink his blade down into its necklace form, slipping the chain over his neck with practiced ease.
Once the quiet between them stretched a little too long, Arthur finally broke it, his tone serious, almost grave. "Anyways," he began, his gaze fixing on her, "are you going to tell me what all of this was about? What in the world did you see that was powerful enough to send a demon after you?" His eyes narrowed with a mixture of suspicion and worry.
Merlin raised a brow, deflecting smoothly, "Are you going to tell me what you saw on your end?"
Arthur didn't miss a beat. He folded his arms and deadpanned, "Yes. We got married and had kids." His voice was steady, his face unreadable. "Now your turn."
"Wha—!?" Merlin's jaw nearly dropped as color flushed across her cheeks. The sheer bluntness of his words caught her completely off guard, startling her in a way few things could.
Arthur turned to the side, and to her annoyance, a small smirk pulled at his lips. He let out an amused snort. "Wow. To think you were actually that gullible… seriously, Mel. If you're going to be my advisor, you need to be sharper than that."
Merlin blinked once, then twice, before the corner of her mouth curled upward in defiance. 'So that's how you want to play it, you brat,' she thought, suppressing a laugh. She scoffed aloud and crossed her arms. "Fine then. I won't be telling you anything."
Arthur raised a brow and replied evenly, "It's not like you were planning on telling me in the first place."
"You don't know that," Merlin huffed, puffing out her cheeks in a pout. But Arthur just stared at her with that maddeningly flat expression, not bothering to dignify her words with a response.
That silence, that steady gaze, gnawed at her. Slowly, guilt began to rise in Merlin's chest. Her playful façade faltered, and she found herself whispering with an apologetic look, "I'm really sorry, Arthur. I truly wish I could tell you everything—"
Arthur shook his head before she could finish, his expression softening in a way that made her chest ache. "It's alright, Merlin. I've become used to this by now. I know that keeping secrets is part of who you are. And we're partners, aren't we? A dynamic duo—Arthur and Merlin. Being friends means accepting both the good and the bad. I'm sure there are things about me that are just as frustrating. So don't fret about it. If I'm not worried, you shouldn't be either."
Merlin's breath caught. For a moment, she could only stare at him, her heart twisting with guilt and warmth all at once. Finally, she leaned forward and let her head drop gently onto his shoulder, her voice muffled but heavy with emotion.
"You are far too forgiving, Arthur… I don't deserve you."
"Come on, don't say that, you're being far too harsh on yourself," Arthur chuckled, his voice warm as he reached over and gently patted Merlin's head. His hand lingered for a moment, tender despite its roughness. "I understand that you're cursed with knowledge, and sometimes… part of that curse is not being able to share what you know. But I think you're doing more than enough. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Merlin. I know for certain most people would have broken under the weight of the power your knowledge provides—"
Before he could finish, Merlin leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him from over his shoulder, pressing her face close and silencing his words with her embrace. "I know you're trying to cheer me up," she murmured, her tone a mixture of fondness and exasperation, "but you really do talk a lot."
Arthur blinked, then let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he returned her embrace without hesitation. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly, though his smile lingered.
"No, it's okay. Really." Merlin's voice softened, sincere in a way that tugged at his chest. "Thanks, Art. Thank you for being so understanding… even when I'm being difficult." She leaned her head against him, her tone laced with quiet appreciation.
Arthur gave a strained smile, as though just saying the words hurt him. "What are friends for, am I right?"
Merlin sighed, pulling back reluctantly. She gave his shoulder a firm pat before straightening herself. "Come on, let's get you patched up. I stocked up on healing potions for situations exactly like this."
She stepped back, creating a bit of distance, and slipped her hand into the folds of her robe. With a flick of her wrist, bottles shimmered into existence from her dimensional storage, clinking faintly as she pressed them into Arthur's hands.
He uncorked the potions without question and downed them one by one. The dull throbbing headache that had been clawing at the back of his skull faded almost instantly. The wound on his head closed, burns smoothed away, and even his scorched skin regained its color. Merlin drank her own share, the angry red marks along her arms and face vanishing, her energy visibly restored.
Then, with a graceful sweep of her staff, Merlin uttered a quiet incantation. A faint ripple of magic washed over them, cleansing their bodies of soot, grime, and blood. The tatters of their garments stitched themselves back together, threads weaving into fabric as if time were reversing.
Merlin raised her staff high, spinning it in a perfect arc before slamming it to the ground. A crack echoed—not just in the ground beneath their feet but in the very air around them. Fractures spiderwebbed through the air, even in the sky itself, until the entire world around them looked like glass on the verge of breaking.
And then, it did.
With a thunderous shatter, the illusion dissolved into fragments, reality piecing itself back together. The snowy battlefield melted away, leaving them once again inside the deserted classroom. The fractured Mirror of Erised loomed before them, its jagged cracks reflecting their weary faces.
Merlin let out a tired sigh, grumbling under her breath, "The cleanup part after is always the most annoying…"
She leveled her staff at the mirror, releasing a concentrated beam of violet light. The cracks shimmered, slowly sealing, until the glass stood pristine once more. Without missing a beat, she spun her staff again and aimed at the ruined wall where she had crashed through earlier. Time itself seemed to rewind—the rubble and bricks lifted from the floor and flew back into place, locking neatly together until the wall looked untouched.
When she was finished, she flicked her staff, shrinking it back into a wand that slid neatly into her sleeve. Dusting off her hands, she turned to Arthur with a satisfied smile. He smiled back, relief flickering across his expression, but before either of them could enjoy the moment, Merlin's expression dropped.
"Run."
Arthur's smile vanished. His brows furrowed as he asked cautiously, "What?"
"Do you seriously think all that noise didn't attract attention?" Merlin snapped, her voice rising in urgency. She grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. "Run!"
Without wasting another moment, they bolted out of the classroom, slamming the door shut behind them. Footsteps echoed in the corridors almost immediately, the sound of pursuers drawing closer.
Arthur and Merlin skidded to a halt at the end of the hallway. Before she could react, Arthur swept her up into his arms without hesitation, cradling her as if she weighed nothing. He muttered an incantation, his body glowing faintly as the magic of haste surged through his veins. Then, with a burst of speed, he sprinted in the opposite direction.
Merlin clung instinctively to his neck, her hair whipping around her face as Arthur rounded the corner at breakneck speed. Their eyes met in the middle of the chaos—her exasperation clashing with his mischievous determination—and just like that, both of them broke into laughter.
The sound echoed down the corridors, wild and breathless, as Arthur carried her away into the shadows.
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