Warning: Blood, angst. Based off of a comic done by Amphighoury on Livejournal.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Thank you for the beta Bailieboro :))
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An arrow to take down a demi-god.
Arthur held the weapon in his hands, red smearing his palms, life-blood from his friend soaking the object.
He hadn't expected it to be like this...to end like this.
"I'm a sorcerer, it is my destiny..." were the servant's words before the arrow struck. In an instant, the manservant began to choke on his blood, his eyes going wide, as his body crumbled to the ground. His skinny body did not even cause a loud thump when it hit the dirt. Not even the dust was disturbed.
...however Arthur was!
He hadn't expected this. He had expected rather to instantly hate the other man for lying, for practicing what he had grown up to regard as evil. The arrow had rightly pierced the devil, regardless of who shot it. Probably saved the prince's life, since Merlin the sorcerer was mostly likely going to kill him next.
However, he hadn't expected it to be like this...to end like this!
He dropped to his knees, to tend a wounded peasant. His servant. A sorcerer.
The bleeding intensified, so the prince ripped his own clothing into pieces for a sorcerer- to tend the wound of a sorcerer...the wound of a friend
Memories of the last few years flickered through the prince's mind as he watched the wounded man grow colder and paler.
Memories, not of him and an evil magic-user, they were of him and his manservant, his clumsy, idiotic manservant.
Memories of Prince Arthur and Merlin.
His friends last words rang in his ears-magic and destiny- and his mind searched for the rest of the words. To fill in the gaps left after an arrow struck a demi-god now lying wounded before him.
"You know, I was thinking," the Prince began, remembering the happier times at this time of the terrifying unknown –
Would Merlin survive?
"About that time, you pushed me out of the way of that dagger and…umm...I know I never really…"
Suddenly, that entire day came to light. How a slow, clumsy country boy was able to swiftly push a battle-trained prince out of harm's way. The boy used magic. He had used it...for him.
The word 'destiny' rang in his ears once more, giving his mind more questions. He needed the answers.
He sat back, bloodied hand in his hair, eyes closed.
"You did want to be my manservant, didn't you?" he asks the ever-paling boy, as if he could answer, as if an arrow hadn't just missed his heart.
"I just took it for granted," the prince continued, holding the offending weapon in his large hands, "I know I never discussed it, but…"
Destiny! What had Merlin meant by destiny?
"I would hate to think that you came here, and stayed here all this time, just out of some kind of misplaced sense of duty…"
Is that what destiny was, Merlin's duty? Not his friendship, but his duty? Had the sorcerer in disguise been playing Arthur, befriending him, for his destiny?
The Prince's eyes glanced down towards the wounded boy, a bleeding sorcerer and possible friend. He has so many questions now; so many doubts...but neither fear nor anger.
No, those emotions were absent.
He hadn't expected it to be like this at all...