Title: A Fall
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur + Mordred
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Mordred
Summary: Mordred has a fall, Arthur and Merlin find him
Warnings: Allusions to abuse (very very vague)
Word Count: ~370
Prompt: 61: Broken
Author's Notes: This is from a WIP that I had hoped to finish in time to post in full here, but RL did not allow for that, so I'm posting this and will post the full work when it's done. Thanks to alba17 for beta'ing.
Naked. Cold. Wet. Mordred furled his big black wings around himself, flinching as a raven dug sharp claws into his shoulder and tapped at his flesh, pecking a sharp beak into his sensitive skin. He swatted at the creature.
“I’m awake. What do you want?” he mumbled. His mouth was sore and was he uncertain if his teeth were intact.
Mordred squinted, trying to keep the bright light from piercing his skull. He wanted to close his eyes again, but was afraid of another attack. Pushing a palm against the ground, he righted himself, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, memories returning. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around scratched legs, thankful there happened to be a wall behind him.
A sharp corner of a cobblestone digging into his buttocks barely registered as he took in the scene in front of him. Horses clattered by pulling carriages and people were bustling past, but no one seemed to notice him or the flock of ravens surrounding him.
Wondering if he’d have attracted more notice had it been daylight, he sighed, realizing he was probably safer here in the dark. He must look a sight. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to assess some of the damage. No pain shot through him, which he took as a good sign. Gingerly, he flexed his wings and that’s when he almost passed out from the pain.
Mordred fought the inclination to return to his sideways position and pushed his head back into the wall, gritting his teeth, hanging onto consciousness by a thread. A loud buzzing in his ears competed with sparkling lights that swirled in a murky pool in his vision until they gradually faded. Mordred inhaled cautiously, testing to make sure a full breath would not hurt. He was relieved to discover that his ribs seemed to be intact.
Still whirling in a fog of pain, he didn’t notice the man bending over him until he heard, “Look, the boy is naked and hurt. I don’t care if he looks odd, I must help him. In fact, give me your scarf.” Mordred felt a calloused hand grip his elbow firmly, but gently.