It's cold. It's dark. It's silent except for the rain that won't stop falling on Arthur's head; the pattering has grown monotonous. He shivers and wraps his cape more tightly around him. It is full of holes and tears from the brambles he had fallen through when he had tumbled down into this pit and does little to keep the cold and wet out. A part of it feels wet and he cannot tell if the wetness is from the rain or if it is his own blood. He can smell the blood, a sickening metallic smell that always fills the tourney stadiums. Usually this smell means that Arthur has defeated the other combatant, but he knows that, right now, the smell means that he is going to die.
He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that maybe this is just a dream and he'll wake up in his chambers with Merlin smiling at him with that goofy grin of his. He desperately wishes that Merlin would call out one of his stupid morning greetings and pull Arthur out of this awful nightmare. For a moment he thinks he can feel the soft, freshly-washed sheets. He thinks he smells his breakfast instead of the sourness of blood. He thinks he hears Merlin's soft footsteps as he tidies the room, waiting for Arthur to wake up. When he opens his eyes, however, he is still in the pit, still bleeding, rain still falling on him, still alone. Still dying.
"Argh!" He yells. He flails around, trying to pull himself out of the hole. He groans and hisses when the movement jolts his broken arm and pulls his lacerations apart. Arthur feels tears roll down his face and he succumbs to the sobs that rack his body. He shakes, curling into himself, and tries to wipe the tears from his face. When he pulls his hand away, it is sticky. He knows it must his blood and it makes him angry. He clenches his fist and hits the ground next to him with a weak yell. This is not fair. He just wants to be back home in his bed with Merlin tending to his every need. Gods, he misses Merlin. Merlin, who could fix everything. Merlin, who could keep Arthur alive. Merlin, who is too far away to pull Arthur out of death's grip.
After a moment, the anger seeps out of him and he lies back against the side of the pit. This is not fair. He closes his eyes again and concentrates on the ground beneath him. It's made of hard clay that is turning soft with each drop of rain. He thinks about how annoyed Merlin will be when he sees what a mess he's made of his cape. Merlin always hates when Arthur gets unnecessarily dirty. The clay is more comfortable than he would have expected. Arthur decides that this isn't the worst place to die. He lets his arms fall to the side, a hissing breath escaping his lips when his broken arm hits the ground. Perhaps he should try to climb out of the pit again. He considers this option for a moment before deciding that he is too tired. Instead he relaxes against the ground and listens to the rain. It is a beautiful sound. He never stopped to appreciate it before, but he is certain that it is even more beautiful when it is heard hitting the castle walls while one sits by a nice, warm fire. He allows himself a small smile before forcing his eyes open and his mind back to his current situation.
This pit is horrid. It is muddy and wet and he can feel infections forming in his wounds. He knows that he is going to die here. And he knows that it is all his fault. He should have waited for his knights before charging in. But Arthur does not need help; Arthur charges in and defeats the enemies, regardless of whether or not he's alone. So Arthur charged into the bandit camp alone. He had felt absolutely invincible. He had been certain that he could easily defeat the bandits. He was quickly outnumbered and forced to flee. And then, already injured from the fight, he fell into this hole. And now he is going to die here and no one will find his body.
Perhaps that is not so bad, though. After all, it is better to die from battle wounds than lying in some bed, dying from old age. Merlin is always saying that that opinion is ridiculous and Arthur's priorities are drastically out of order. Maybe Merlin is right. Arthur wishes that his body would at least be found, but he knows that is very unlikely. Arthur decides that there is nothing he can do either way and that he is tired. He knows that no one is coming.
Suddenly, there is a light above him, like a star. It is distant and tiny but it seems to be growing or getting closer, Arthur can't tell which. His eyes are getting heavy and he doesn't think he can stay conscious. He wants to wait until the light gets to him, but he is suddenly sure that the light is not real. There is no hope for him, so he let his eyes close. As he slipped off to sleep, a peaceful, calm sleep, he hears something land next to him and then he thinks he hears Merlin's voice.