AN: This was written for challenge 1 of round 1 of tvnetwork2_las over on livejournal. The prompt was "Fast & Furious".
Don't Think
He can't stop to breathe, can't stop to think, the world is a blur of clanging metal and sweating, bleeding bodies. The armour is heavy on his shoulders and while he can normally move in it as though it is nothing, now he is aware of nothing more than its restrictions. He can't get to his enemies' swords fast enough to take control of the fight and he would take the blows to his body, this body that is already suffused with the dull ache of bruises and the sharp lines of stab wounds, if only for the freedom of movement that could get him there faster.
Merlin needs him.
Stupid, trusting Merlin who had gone and got himself kidna-
Arthur ducked under another of the swinging blades. God, it wasn't just desperation powering him now. The anger at these … this iscum/i was building up, burning through his soul, and he refused to be overpowered.
He screamed, pure and violent. A war cry as he ran forwards into the mass of bodies. He would win. He would make them all pay.
No one would lay a hand on Merlin. Not while there was still breath in his body.