A/N:
Hello good readers, and welcome to the first chapter of Russian Roulette, which is the third in the Forever Yours series. I would highly recommend reading the two parts before this, Glitter in the Air first, followed by The Climb second. Otherwise, you can read this and be able to catch on pretty quickly what's happening!
A HUGELY MASSIVE thank you to Cori, who has been my beta reader through this whole series so far! Without her and her words of encouragement, this series would never get done and you'd never be able to read it! A HUGE thank you to all of you readers who keep reading and reviewing! It all means the world to me to know what you think!
The italicised lyrics are from Rihanna's absolutely fabulous single, Russian Roulette!
Now, for a serious note! There is a character death in this story which was hinted at in the last chapter of The Climb, and it's confirmed here in this first chapter to Russian Roulette. I've given a few 'graphic' details, so please, if you're squeamish or you don't like that sort of thing, read on at your own peril!
So, without further ado, here is Take A Breath.
TAKE A BREATH
Take a breath, take it deep
Calm yourself, he says to me
Deafening silence filled Arthur's chamber as Owen tried to push himself up from where he was sprawled outside in the corridor. Arthur stared in complete shock, weights of ice crashing heavily onto his heart. No, it can't be. He kept replaying the last few seconds in his head, over and over, praying that Merlin hadn't really just used magic. Bile rose in Arthur's throat, and he wavered unsteadily on his feet. Finally, he had to walk over to the door frame and rest against it lest he collapse onto the floor. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement and quickly looked up, all of his emotions there for Merlin to see. Rage. Sorrow. Grief. Betrayal. Hate. Love. Everything that Arthur could be feeling, he was. It felt as though his world was coming to an end. Suddenly, the image of Uther filled his head. His father was gone. Gone. Arthur retched, his throat burning. He could hear footsteps coming towards him, and he looked up at Merlin, who stopped dead in his tracks. Arthur took a few steps back, wiping his hand across his mouth. He kept his gaze on Merlin as he reached for his sword, which had been knocked down from its place behind his door.
"Arthur..."
"Don't talk to me," Arthur whispered, and Merlin tried to step towards him, but Arthur backed away, lifting his sword and levelling it at Merlin.
"Arthur, please..."
"I said don't talk!" Arthur roared, and Merlin flinched. He watched the hurt pass across Merlin's face and for the smallest of seconds, Arthur wanted to take Merlin into his arms and kiss the pain away.
Arthur and Merlin, two men who had been so close only moments before, now stood on opposite sides of the room as strangers. Arthur stared at Merlin and tried his best to shut off the feelings he had for the other man, desperately wishing that the pain he was feeling now would go away. Only hours before he had given Merlin his virginity and asked him to be his life partner. Arthur could still smell Merlin on his skin, their scents mingled from the hours of love-making that were now marred by the revelation that Merlin had magic. Tears filled Arthur's eyes, and Merlin once again tried to get closer to him, but Arthur stumbled further back, stopping when he stood beside Owen, who had managed to push himself to his feet and was clinging to the wall. Arthur wiped at his eyes with his free hand and saw that Merlin's own eyes were brimming with tears.
"I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm so sorry that I kept this a secret from you. I never meant to hurt you..."
"Liar!" Arthur snarled. The sound of running footsteps and Sir Galahad's voice filtered through the stone corridors. Merlin cringed at the viciousness in Arthur's tone, but Arthur continued remorselessly, "I bet you even lied about loving me..."
"Never, Arthur! I could never lie about that! Arthur, calm down, let's talk..."
"I was a fool! A fool to ever think that somebody like you could ever love someone like me! Was anything ever real, Merlin, or did you lie about everything?"
Arthur took a breath and more hurt and pain weighed him down as he began to wonder if Merlin had ever loved him, if everything that had happened the past week was nothing but an intricate trap to snare him. No, his soul cried out, this man loves me, I can see it in the way that he looks at me. If nothing else, I know that he loves me. From the corner of his eye, he could see Owen smirking openly, and it proved too much for Arthur. Not only had this man killed his father and gloated about it, he was now enjoying the collapse of every dream Arthur had cherished. With a pain-filled cry that bounced off the stone walls, Arthur turned and slammed his sword all the way through Owen's body. He didn't stop pushing the sword through until Owen's stomach was flush against the hilt, Owen's eyes open wide with disbelief and pain. Arthur felt Owen clutch at his shoulder as Arthur savagely twisted the sword to the left. Merlin cried out for Arthur to stop, but all Arthur did was kick Owen's body to the floor, just as Sir Galahad came to a screeching halt with six other knights behind him.
An icy calm began to settle over Arthur as he stared down at Owen's lifeless body, the floor beneath the man turning a vivid red as life-sustaining blood flowed freely. He looked down at his sword which was smeared with the blood of the man who had caused almost as much pain as Merlin. Arthur then looked down at his left hand, which had been scrunched into a tight fist throughout, securing the ring reserved for the King of Camelot. Looking up at Sir Galahad, who looked as though he had blood all over his armour, Arthur spoke.
"Is it true, Galahad? Is the King of Camelot dead?"
Arthur watched as a mixture of emotions passed over Sir Galahad's face before the knight nodded slowly.
"The guards that patrolled outside of your father's chambers weren't there, Arthur. I presume that Owen killed them and that any accomplices disposed of the bodies immediately. I'm so sorry, Arthur."
Arthur nodded and opened his clenched fist, revealing the ring from within. Dropping his sword to the floor, Arthur placed the ring onto his finger and stared at it for a long moment. A gentle touch on his shoulder brought Arthur back to the present.
"I'll take Owen's body away, and I'll send for the maids to clean this mess up. Why don't you let Merlin take you for a walk and..."
"I am going nowhere with him."
Arthur spoke with such coldness that Sir Galahad immediately removed his hand from Arthur's shoulder. The young man looked at Sir Galahad, who was looking at Merlin, and then settled his gaze upon Merlin himself.
"Take him to the dungeons, Galahad, and make sure that he is kept under tight guard until I say otherwise."
"Arthur, you've had a shock, and you're not thinking straight..."
Arthur's head snapped around to glare at Sir Galahad, who glared right back at him.
"I am your king, Galahad, and what I command will be done, with or without your acceptance. Now, you have a choice. You will take Merlin to the dungeons personally and see that he is chained and locked up, or you will spend time in the stocks to remind you whom you obey."
Arthur watched as Sir Galahad battled with the loyalty he felt towards him, and with the loyalty that he felt towards Merlin. Straightening his back and bowing his head respectfully, Sir Galahad pointed to two knights to go and restrain Merlin. Arthur watched silently as they grabbed Merlin, as Merlin began to shout, scream and cry for him not to do this. And a part of Arthur wanted to stop it. As Merlin was dragged from the chamber, he lashed out with his feet and fists, trying to free himself from the knights' iron grips. For a moment, Arthur felt confused. He has magic, so why doesn't he flee after casting a spell? The remaining four knights fell into place behind the leading two, with Sir Galahad following at the rear. All the way down the stone corridor, Arthur could hear Merlin screaming for him to release him, that something was coming, and that they needed to be together to face it. Lies, Arthur thought as three maids arrived, armed with buckets of water and faces of remorse. What else will he lie about to save himself?
If you play, you play for keeps
Take the gun, and count to three
Leaving the maids to their gruesome task, Arthur began the slow and lonely walk towards his father's chambers. Each step felt heavier than the last as he edged ever closer, and at the junction with the main staircase, Arthur stopped and put a hand to his chest. His heart was beating furiously, and he found it hard to breathe. Closing his eyes, Arthur felt a few tears slide down his face as he tried to regain control over his body. The deathly silence of the castle threatened to overwhelm him. Footsteps hurrying up the stairs broke the silence, and Arthur scrubbed at his eyes furiously as Jack came into view.
The young man stopped a few steps short of Arthur, and the two of them looked at each other, blue eyes filled with sorrow locked with green eyes that were filled with the same emotion. The news of Uther's death must be spreading through the entire castle, the entire town. Memories of the years that had gone by flashed in Arthur's mind—the times he had spent with Jack, speaking of the unfairness that his father had often shown towards him; of love interests that eventually proved to be nothing more than infatuations; of the hope that he would one day be as good a king as Uther. Jack was the only other servant, other than Merlin, whom Arthur opened up to when he needed someone to talk to, because Jack always knew the right words to say. Now, they met here, on the staircase after Arthur's world had come crashing down around him. Jack was the first to make a move, coming up the last few steps before pulling Arthur to him in a tight hug, which Arthur returned, letting all the pain and weariness he felt flow into Jack's comforting arms. They stood there in silence for a few moments before Jack pulled away.
"Are you going to your father's chambers?" Jack asked, and Arthur simply nodded quietly, afraid that if he spoke, he would break down in tears. "Would you like some company?"
When Arthur nodded, Jack took hold of Arthur's arm and guided the young man slowly up the stone stairs. Neither spoke as they made their way upwards and when maids and other serving staff stopped on the stairs to pay their respects to Arthur, Jack sent them away with quiet words. Stepping into the main corridor, Arthur's feet felt heavier than before, and he could feel his heart racing just as his breathing began to quicken and bile began to rise in his throat. When he thought that he couldn't take any more, a small hand at the base of his back comforted him, calmed him. Looking at Jack, Arthur took a deep breath and continued walking, back straight and head held high, just like Uther would have expected. The closer he got to the chambers, the more maids and knights he saw milling around. Arthur had to pause for a moment when four maids, all in a small group, passed by with buckets filled with blood-stained water. Was there so much blood? Images came to his mind then, showing grotesque pictures of what could be waiting for him, and he shuddered before moving forward once again.
A few moments later, Arthur stopped outside the door that was pulled tightly shut and heavily guarded with ten knights. Where were they when my father needed them? Arthur thought and shot each and every one of them a look that showed exactly what he thought of them. Each of the knights dropped their gaze, and when Arthur stepped towards the door, one of the knights spoke hesitantly.
"Your highness," he began, and Arthur turned his attention to him. The young knight cleared his throat and carried on, "I'm not sure you should go inside, not with how your father is..."
"I will go where I please," Arthur snapped, and he felt a sharp prod in his back from Jack. Arthur looked at his friend and took a breath, before returning his gaze to the shaken knight. Arthur suddenly remembered that this young man was the youngest knight that had ever been accepted in Camelot, and that Arthur had often seen him making loving eyes at one of the serving maids. "I'm sorry. I understand your concern, but he is my father, and I need to see him. Let no one disturb me whilst I am inside."
The young knight, called Alexander, nodded respectfully and opened the door to Uther's chamber. The stench of blood and bile suddenly flooded over Arthur, and it took all of his self control to stop from retching. Taking a breath, Arthur walked inside the chamber with Jack behind him, who knew that the young king could not be alone at the moment. The doors closed behind him, and the light from the candles and early morning sun threw disturbing shadows across the room.
Arthur's eyes were instantly drawn to the blood that still remained on the floor, walls and furniture, and Owen's words came back to haunt him. Your father screamed, Arthur. He begged me not to kill him. Arthur stepped inside further and saw that the door to the wardrobe that had housed Uther's clothes was hanging off, splintered and dented. Walking up to it, Arthur traced the size of the dent with his fingers and grimaced as congealed blood and hair strands stuck to his fingers. Turning around, wiping the blood off on his breeches, Arthur saw a shattered chair lying in a corner. One of its broken legs lay on the blood stained linen of the grand bed in the middle of the room. Once Arthur's eyes were drawn to the bed, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the shape of his father's body beneath the sheets. You need to see him, Arthur reasoned with himself as he felt fear creep up through his body. You need to see him and make sure that it's not some horrible nightmare.
Arthur took a breath and stepped over puddles of blood to get to Uther's bedside, as well as broken pieces of wooden furniture and torn clothing. The sun was a little higher now, and the first rays of the new day washed over the bed, bathing it in false warmth. Arthur's finger tips rested gently at the corner of the bed sheet as he gathered all of his strength for what he was about to do. Hooking the soiled fabric between his fingers, Arthur slowly pulled the sheet downwards, exposing Uther's face bit by bit.
Uther's hair was bloodied and clumped together, some of it torn out completely. Arthur had seen something like that before, after having witnessed a villager drag a small boy by his hair for stealing a loaf of bread for his sick mother. A large and angry welt spread downwards from Uther's left eyebrow to his chin, the skin curled up at the edges. Dark, purple rings surrounded both of Uther's eyes, and Arthur suddenly felt that Owen's death had been too quick. I should have kept him alive, Arthur thought, so that I could torture him bit by bit, every day for the rest of his life. The only other mark that marred Uther's face was a cut across his lips, which were caked in congealed blood. There was one more place that Arthur needed to check, and once again, Owen's words came filtering through his thoughts again. I found that slitting his throat was even greater entertainment. Pulling the sheet down further, Arthur gently tipped his father's head upwards, exposing the messy wound that stretched across the pale skin.
Pulling the sheet back up, Arthur paused for a few moments and let everything sink in. My father's dead. I'm now the King of Camelot, his rational side reasoned, but it was suddenly overwhelmed with the thoughts of his inner self. But I'm not good enough! Nowhere near good enough to follow in his footsteps! Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Arthur turned around and saw Jack standing in front of the doors, having not moved since entering. Walking over to him, again avoiding the congealed blood puddles, Arthur stopped and felt small hands close around his.
"Jack, I want you to make my father the finest burial clothes," Arthur said quietly. "And I want you to arrange for his body to be moved to the crypts."
Jack nodded and squeezed his hands. "What about you, Arthur? What are you going to do?"
Arthur didn't know how to answer, so he just moved to the side and opened the doors before walking out. Before Arthur knew it, he was back in his chambers which were now clean and smelled of soap. He walked to his bed, climbed atop it and lowered himself onto the blankets where Merlin had lain only hours before. Burying his face in the pillows, Arthur cried for the loss of not only his father, but for Merlin. Merlin, whom he had loved so much, and who had repaid that love with betrayal.
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