A/N: Hi everyone :D
I absolutely adore Merlin(the TV series) and as a result, this story was written!
Please do tell me what you think, but until then, sit back and enjoy :)
Special thanks to astaline nihtingale for painstakingly enduring my incessant questions and for beta-ing this story :D
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Merlin, or I would've spanked Uther into oblivion a long time ago.
"Platoon Commander Arthur Pendragon?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tomorrow at dawn, we head off to France. We're going to drive away the German bastards who dared take over Belgium. Tell your men, and be prepared. You understand me?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Pendragon? You heard me?"
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he nodded grimly.
"Yes, sir."
ooooooooooo0000000000000ooooooooooooo
It was the night before setting off with his men.
"Do you really have to go, Arthur?" his wife asked him, her eyes filled with tears.
He didn't look at her. He couldn't.
"For the sixth time, Guinevere," he said slowly, "There's a choice. I can either sit here and live the life of a coward, or go into the battlefield and prove my worth. I've decided on the latter."
She grabbed his hand and forced him to look at her. "You do know," she said quietly, "that chances of your return are slim?"
He merely nodded.
"Can you promise me your safe return?"
He took a deep breath. "I'll…try."
She stomped her foot and threw her hands in the air.
"Damn it, Arthur!" she yelled, tears now falling freely down her face. "You can't just try! You have to promise!"
There was a moment of silence, where Arthur gazed at his stricken wife, trying so hard ensure his face remained emotionless, so as to hide his breaking heart from her.
He turned away.
"I'm sorry, Guinevere," he murmured. "But you're asking too much, because this promise can never be fulfilled by soldiers such as I."
oooooooo0000000000000oooooooooo
It was the night before the war.
Arthur stood on a hill and looked out onto the battleground. The scent of the salty ocean breeze seemed to smell of the death that was about to come. The dark silhouettes of trees loomed over him, like the dark figures that had haunted his sleep the previous night.
The feeling of the humiliating fear he felt inside was making him sick.
He quickly turned over to the side and retched.
"Are you alright, Arthur?" a concerned voice came from behind him.
Arthur started in shock and almost stepped into his puddle of sick.
"Oh, God, Merlin," he gasped, clutching his chest as he saw his best friend watching him worriedly. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
Merlin glanced over at the puddle.
"Yes, I'm sure I could," he said dryly.
"Oh, don't be such an ass."
The raven-haired man grinned. "Aren't I always?"
They looked at each other, and started to laugh.
When their laughter finally died down, the smile faded from Merlin's face as his expression morphed into one of complete seriousness.
"But seriously, Arthur," he said quietly. "I don't think you should head into this battle at all."
Arthur stopped and stared at him, dreading what he was going to say next.
"Why ever not?"
"Because I have a bad feeling about this."
Arthur forced himself to smile.
"Well, I can't exactly back out now, can I?" he said, keeping his voice neutral.
"You could say you're ill," Merlin said desperately. "Or perhaps you can ask Leon to lead. Or maybe-"
"Merlin," he interrupted, holding a hand up. "There's no way I'm going to do any of that. What has gotten into you?"
"It's just that…I have this impending sense of doom. And from the look on your face, I can tell you're feeling the same thing too."
Arthur wanted to scream, tear his hair out, yell at Merlin, then drown himself in the ocean and finally have a completely valid reason to not participate in the battle at all. But instead, he tried to wipe all emotion from his face, and looked into Merlin's eyes, spotting the concern and deep fear beneath the sparkling tears.
And suddenly, he wanted to back out and return to Guinevere, and live the life of a coward. That wouldn't be so bad now, would it?
"Please," his friend whispered, holding onto a last shred of hope. "Don't do this."
Arthur sighed and turned away.
"You know that isn't an option."
ooooooooo0000000000000ooooooooooooo
The war had begun.
Everywhere around him, bombs were falling, causing chunks of earth to fly everywhere. The sounds of explosions were ringing in his mind and ears. Swarms of men fled to take cover, leaving behind their horribly injured friends to scream for help. It didn't take long before these bloodcurdling screams were abruptly cut off by yet another bomb.
Arthur turned away from this sight as he continued to find cover. It was good then, that those men did not have to suffer.
"What are you doing, Blatsky?" he yelled at a man standing rigid in shock. "I told you to take cover!"
When the man didn't move, the platoon commander swore and lifted the shell-shocked man onto his shoulder.
"Go, go, go!" he commanded his other men.
With that, he jumped into an unused trench, dragging down Blatsky along with him.
"What on earth am I going to do?" he murmured, covering his face with his hands.
oooooo00000000000oooooooooo
It was around the time Arthur's platoon should have been back.
Merlin was getting worried. So far, no word had come from them. He'd been tending to countless injured soldiers, and none of the voice-capable ones brought news of him.
In his mind, the dark figures, similar to the ones who tormented Arthur the night before, began cackling.
Maybe they were right, after all.
He excused himself from his fellow medics, ignoring their protests as he left their makeshift treatment room quietly. He made his way to the room he knew several generals were having a major argument in.
Squatting near the door, he positioned his ear near a crack, feeling his heart thumping at an inhuman pace.
"I'm sorry, sir, but there has been no word from Platoon Commander Pendragon or his platoon since they set off."
Someone slammed his fist against a table.
"We must send out a search party!" he cried.
"There's no point doing that!" another general told him angrily. "If they are dead, more men could be sacrificed. Besides that, it's getting dark soon."
"I DON'T CARE!" the first general roared as the sound of a table being flung against the wall could be heard.
"Uther!" the second general called out sharply. "Stop this nonsense at once!"
"HE IS MY SON, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"
Merlin's heart stopped. His son? Arthur's father?
He had heard enough. He grabbed his bagpack and sneaked out into the battlefield.
ooooooo0000000000000ooooooooooooo
"Arthur?" he called out quietly. "Arthur, are you there?"
There was silence. Thank God it was growing dark, for there were no more further attacks.
"Arthur!" he said more insistently.
"Merlin."
He whirled round, looking around wildly. "Arthur, is that you?" he hissed.
There was no reply. Had he imagined that, then?'
No, he didn't think so. Merlin could sense him there. If only he knew where he was.
"Merlin, you idiot," he heard Arthur wheeze nearby. "I'm in the trench."
Feeling a profound sense of dread, he hurriedly made his way into the nearby trench, and looked for his best friend. So far, all he could see were corpses strewn all over.
But when he finally saw him, he felt his face drain.
"No," he whispered in horror. For there was Arthur, leaning against the side of the trench, a large brown stain slowly spreading on his chest.
"This can't be happening!" he cried as he rushed towards him.
Arthur could only laugh weakly.
"Care to make a bit more noise, Merlin?" he coughed. "I don't think those German bastards quite managed to hear you."
"Last thing I've heard, they've retreated for the moment," Merlin told him, unable to stop his eyes from filling with tears.
"There's no need to cry, you know," Arthur said softly. "I actually count myself luckier than the rest of my platoon. They're all gone, including Blatsky, while all I have is this," he gestured at his chest, "little pain in my chest."
Merlin couldn't speak as he watched his friend talk. It was too painful.
"It has to be fatigue," Arthur continued, looking around absently, "it's as though I'm growing old."
"You're not growing old, Arthur."
Arthur ignored him.
"Is that the sun?" he asked, looking up. "That's odd. I feel strangely cold, though."
"What happened to you?" Merlin asked quietly.
His best friend finally looked back at him as though he had only just got there.
"I…don't know, actually," he admitted. "I remember everything suddenly exploding. I tried to get help, but everyone was either dead or dying."
Then, he gazed into the sky absent-mindedly.
"It's strange, isn't it?"
"What's strange?"
Arthur smiled. "That a man like me could be felled by this little pain here."
Tears began falling down Merlin's face.
"But everyone is proud of what you've achieved."
And suddenly, realization dawned on Arthur's face.
"Merlin?" he blinked.
The raven-haired medic fought to keep his voice level. He needed to be strong for his best friend. "Yes Arthur."
"After this, can you try to talk to my father and Guinevere? Tell them I love them, and that I'm sorry I've failed them."
Merlin slapped his friend's thigh lightly.
"You're not going to die, Arthur!" he cried.
Arthur merely looked at him questioningly. "Am I not, Merlin?" he asked. "I seem to remember you telling me about this bad feeling you had."
Merlin threw his hands into the air.
"Just forget about that, would you!"
"Whatever."
Merlin couldn't help but break into a watery grin.
"I'll…pass on the message."
"Thank you, Merlin," the blond-haired soldier smiled, "for being the greatest friend I could possibly have."
Merlin reached out and gripped Arthur's hand as his eyes dulled. Tears were glazing his cheeks.
"Is it dark already?" Arthur winced softly. "I thought it was still afternoon, actually. Let me rest here for a little while…"
And quietly, his eyes closed as he died from the little pain in his chest.
All Merlin could remember after that was how he pulled his best friend to his side, and as he held him, the one thing clear on his mind was how he could feel their wounds pressed together for the last time – the large one in his heart and the little one in Arthur's chest.
A/N: Sorry for killing Arthur off, for those Arthur-fans out there D: but I needed that for this story to work.