This is a one shot, m'thinks. But I think I will add another chapter explaining why Merlin would do this, so basically the night at the tavern. m'kay? Well enjoy!

Warning: Self-Harm

Merlin woke up to the early morning sun pouring in through the window. His head pounded. He knew that he had been to the tavern with Gwaine the previous evening, but he didn't remember drinking that much. He knew the consequences of drinking too much, so he chose to abstain from drinking. Well that is until Gwaine gave him his infamous puppy dog eyes and practically begged him. So he was essentially forced to go.

Merlin tried to sit up. His head throbbed, from what he assumed was an immense hangover, and his face itched under long since dried tear tracks. Why was he crying that evening? Merlin thought to himself. He couldn't remember. No matter how hard he tried he could not piece together the fuzzy and hazy memories from the previous night. All he could do for now is hope that he hadn't cried in front of his friends. If he had he would never be allowed to live this down.

He sat further up and took notice of his hands. They were covered in blood. Oh Gods? What has he done now. He was holding a small knife, his knife, in his right hand. It was also smeared in long dried blood, probably the same as the blood forming a crust on his hand. Oh no. It couldn't be that again? Could it? He looked down at his exposed wrists. No new cuts or scars. Only the healed scars from hen he had first moved to Camelot. Watching someone being executed, someone like him, was not a fun experience.

he tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed. His right leg went first, then the left. Gods. The blood was everywhere. On his bed clothes, on his sheets, even sunken into the shallow mattress. Then the pain came. As soon as his left leg touched the floor, the pain hurtled towards him. It shocked and scared him. It hasn't been like this for a long time. The source of the blood appeared to be coming from the left leg of his breeches.

He carefully peeled back the rough fabric of his breeches, wincing slightly as the blood seeping from his wounds had dried and then bound the fabric to his skin, to reveal his newly mutilated leg. He breathed in deeply and then out again. What was he going to do? It had been years, almost a decade, since this last happened. It happened a lot in Ealdor, when people had picked on him for being the strange, bastard child that nobody wanted to play with, well of course, except for Will. It also happened quite a bit when he had first moved to Camelot. The threat of death every day, whilst being lectured about how everything you were was evil and that you are just a freak and a monster, plus having a stupid destiny constantly nipping at your heels and just being a big weight on his shoulder, it was bound to happen eventually. But ten he had become close to Arthur, and Arthur's pain became his pain. Merlin doing this would hurt Arthur so he stopped.

He glanced again at his leg, breathing in sharply again. He called for Gaius, perhaps he could help him. The old physician hobbled in, half asleep, but as soon as he saw what his young ward had done, he was shocked into action. He quickly knelt at the young man's bed side and muttered to himself. Not again. The wounds were deep, much deeper than they ever had been before. Something bad must have happened, to make him this upset. Gaius was about to question his ward when he saw his face. Merlin was just as shocked as he was. "Gaius, what happened last night?"

"I don't know m'boy." was all Gaius answered.

Something must have happened. He wouldn't do this to himself for no reason what so ever. Gaius must have noticed something last night. When he was drunk his ability to hide his emotions were impaired and therefore he was an open book.

Merlin and Gaius sat there in silence. Gaius was tending to Merlin's self inflicted wounds and Merlin, well, Merlin was trying to recall any memories what so ever.

Their silence was broken when a large bang from the main room was followed by a very angry Arthur. He was late but he couldn't help it, he was wounded after all. Arthur stared straight at him through the two open door in Arthurs path. He could tell that Arthur was angry but as soon as he laid his eyes upon the large white bandages on Merlin's exposed left leg, his anger trickled away and was replaced with concern.

"Merlin!" Arthur practically shouted "What on earth happened?" The concern was apparent in Arthurs voice

Merlin looked into the Arthur's eye.

"Arthur" Merlin croaked. He was trying to make up a lie so that he wouldn't have to explain anything to Arthur.

"I... I tripped. Yeah. I slipped and fell and cut my leg." He lied, quite obviously.

Arthur started again. It was apparent that he was annoyed at his menservants' blatant lies.

"Merlin, what actually happened?" Arthur asked. It was clear he wasn't going to leave until he had his answer.

"Arthur," Merlin managed to croak out. He could feel the prick of tears behind his eyes, but he wasn't about to cry in front of Arthur anytime soon. "I... did this to myself" He whispered, almost silently, but loud enough for Arthur to hear.

"WHAT!" Arthur shouted at the bandaged boy in front of him. The loud noise caused Merlin to flinch away, tears betraying Merlin as they were now flowing down his face freely. Arthur immediately regretted his idea of shouting at Merlin.

"What?" Arthur repeated himself, more softly this time. "Why would you do this?"He continued. Why would Merlin of all people do this to himself? Merlin was happy, wasn't he?

"I... I don't remember." Merlin replied sincerely. "It has been a long time since the last time! I don't remember why I did this. I'm sorry Arthur, so, so sorry" The words were tumbling out of his mouth freely and without his permission.

Arthur hesitantly walked to the bedside of his servant- friend- and knelt beside him. "What do you mean 'last time'?" Arthur asked. Merlin blubbered. "We need a long chat, Merlin."