Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Merlin or any of the characters.
In the earliest hours of Sunday morning certain foreign sounds impeded on the usual nightly noises - the cool hum of crickets, the dry settling of the woods, the far-off rumble of carts crossing the drawbridge, and the deep - receding - peel of the church bell.
That morning a tapping sound woke Arthur. The soft padding of footsteps passing outside his bedroom door followed a moment later by the harsh muttering of voices. Arthur sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Noiselessly he walked over and stopped at the door. He could hear voices, arguing, from the other side. He hesitated, listening.
"Is that really necessary? Leon said.
"He has a right to know the truth, Leon," Gwaine said.
"You know how - fond - he is of the boy," Leon said hesitating over the word as if it tasted bad in his mouth. "The truth will only upset him."
"He needs to know," Gwaine said.
"Why can't we simply tell him that we scoured the forest and found no sign of the boy, surely that is enough?" Leon said.
"Do you really think Arthur will except that? That he'll accept Merlin's -" Gwaine's voice caught. Arthur heard his body sink against the door. "That Merlin is gone," Gwaine barely spoke the words. They trembled miraculously into the air and sent Arthur sinking to his knees.
A memory pushed in obtrusively:
Arthur saw the first mercenary out of the corner of his eye. A broad shoulder, blocky faced Saxon appeared, a hundred yards from where Arthur was standing, from behind a ring of moss-covered stones. Arthur swung Merlin off his shoulder and onto the ground. Pulled his sword from its scabbard. And charged the Saxon.
Their swords meet overhead with a sharp, metallic clang. The Saxon lunged, Arthur parried. The ravine was narrow and craggy bound on either side by steep, rocky slopes which limited Arthur's range of motion.
The Saxon lunged, again, missing Arthur to the left. Arthur sidestepped a clumsily thrown left hook and popped his elbow up into the Saxon's face, breaking his nose in a rush of blood that sent the Saxon howling to the ground.
Arthur swung around, toward Merlin, just in time to see another Saxon come running past Merlin and try to knock Arthur's head off with a broadsword. Arthur ducked. The sword whooshed over his head and stuck fast in the rock. Arthur swung his sword in an upward arc cleaving a bloody gash through the Saxon's ribs and chest cavity.
The Saxon fell back, gurgling, and kicking just as the Saxon-with-the-Broken-Nose shoved Arthur hard from behind. Arthur lurched. It was then he felt the ground shake. A tremor like the exhalation of a held breath: soft and timid.
He hardly had time to notice it before a sharp downstroke from behind almost unseated his arm from his body. Arthur flattened himself against the ravine as the sword whistled past and thudded into the ground. Arthur reached out and grabbed the Saxon by the shoulder through the Saxon's chest and out his back.
Arthur heard a chorus of yells from behind. Footsteps trampling the dry earth. He spun around, his hand brushing the ravine wall, as his sword drooped momentarily with exhaustion. Around a corner, in the ravine, four more Saxons charged, past Merlin, straight at Arthur.
Then Arthur felt the ground shake again stronger this time, a gentle bump, that knocked him sideways. Overhead a deafening roar sent lose a cascade of rocks and rubble that blocked the ravine. Arthur on one side. The Saxons and Merlin on the other.
"I am sorry about Merlin - " Leon's voice drug Arthur back to the present. He leaned against the door, panting, momentarily unbalanced. " - but Arthur is King, we can not risk losing him for the benefit of a serving boy."
"Because his life is worthless," Gwaine said darkly.
"No, because it is worth less than Arthur's."
Arthur ground his teeth feeling suddenly sick. Another memory pushed unwanted into focus.
Arthur was walking with Uther down the portico while up in Constans Tower, in Gaius's chambers, Merlin was slowly succumbing to the Mortaues poison he had knowingly drunk for Arthur.
"Damn it, Arthur, what is the point of having a food taster, if you're just going to get yourself killed anyway?" Uther spat through his teeth.
"I can save him," Arthur insisted.
Uther stopped walking, the tension knotting in his shoulders, but when he spoke his voice was soft full of concern. "Arthur, you are my only son I can not risk losing you for the sake of some serving boy?"
"Oh because his life is worthless," Arthur said letting a little heat edge his voice. His fists gripped white-knuckled against his legs as anger rushed in a hot current under his skin. The muscles of his arms knotting under the thin material of his shirt.
"No, because his life is worth less than yours," Uther said waspishly.
"I trust Merlin more than anyone," Arthur said with forced calm.
Uther made a noise of disbelief. "Arthur, remember what I have told you, you and you alone must rule Camelot."
"I'd rather not rule at all than rule alone," Arthur said.
"Don't be a child Arthur," Uther said. "This boy will not be the last to die on your behalf. I suggest you get used to it."
"I can save him," Arthur said stubbornly.
"No."
"Why not!" Arthur said his voice rising.
"Because one day I will be dead," Uther snapped. His teeth bared as he seemed to expand. Swelling in his anger to fill the corridor. His eyes steely in their resolve. "And Camelot will need a King. I will not let you jeopardize the future of this kingdom for a serving boy."
"He saved my life," Arthur said. " I can't stand by and watch him die."
"Then don't look," Uther said.
Arthur heard the sharp rap of knuckles against the door. Disoriented he pulled himself up onto his feet. "Arthur," Gwaine called knocking again. Arthur grabbed the door clumsily and pushed it open.
Gwaine was standing directly in front of him. He looked ill and exhausted his long athletic frame bunched up like gathered fabric, tense and anticipatory. To Gwaine's right was Leon his bronze curls swept back from his face. His lips pressed into a thin, anxious line as he fiddled with something in his gloved hands.
"Arthur. " Gwaine said stepping back in surprise as Arthur leaned, pale and trembling, out of the door.
"Are you going to tell me, what you found?" Arthur asked. He looked up and saw Gwaine and Leon exchange a significant look. "I'm sorry Arthur," Leon said holding out the thing in his hand. Arthur took it, feeling the rough material slide between his fingers, as he realized with all the force of having been punched in the stomach that this was Merlin's neckerchief. And that it was covered in dried blood.
"There was no sign of Merlin, nothing but that, and enough blood -" Leon stopped as Gwaine kicked him sharply.
"He was alive - " Arthur said. "The last I saw of him, he was alive."
After a long, tense moment of silence, Gwaine asked, "Arthur are you alright?"
His voice seemed to echo down as if Arthur were hearing it from a far way off. Merlin was dead. He couldn't be - it couldn't be. This was a nightmare. Arthur just need to wake up - he had to wake up.
The world grew soft around the edges. Arthur could hear his bones straining under the loss of Merlin. He tried sucking in a breath but the air didn't seem to make it past his lips. It felt like his head was going to explode. There was a pressure building behind his eyes. Gwaine was speaking again but the sound winked out. Arthur could not hear anything over the sudden noise that filled his head. The sound was him breaking.
Arthur pushed past Gwaine and ran up the corridor. A powerful sob building in his chest with enough pressure to break his ribs from the inside out. He banged into the first room he came to. A small, under furnished solars. The furniture covered in grey, dusty sheets and sunlight washing through the mullioned windows.
Arthur slammed the door shut and sank down against it. Pressing his palms to the floor he leaned over and began to cry with all the force of a person vomiting on all fours.
