Author's Note:

Hi and a Happy New Year everyone! :)
Alright, so this is more like a sign to let you know that I'm still alive. I wrote this short thing like three days ago (when I watched the Merlin final- God, is it really over?! O.O), but didn't find the time to post it... it's planned as a oneshot, though I already have a slightly longer version of this (only noticed after I had written this one- yup, I'm a bit chaotic^^). So I could write a longer story where all this is explained. But that has to wait until I finish the other seven or so stories.
This is a completely different style of writing compared to my usual, because I felt like trying something new. It was written on my eReader in the middle of the night, so I'm sorry for any errors.
On with the story- enjoy and please R&R! :D

Rated T because I'm paranoid :).

Wordcount: 1182

Spoilers: There are a few lines from random episodes (none from season 5, if I remember correctly), though they're mixed up with some of my own imagination, so... I would say no spoilers here.

Disclaimer: Still don't own. If I had, there would be a season 6 and a few other changes... and I would have mucked it all up, I guess xD.

He was running.
The cold air burned in his lungs, setting his body on fire with each breath. His legs felt ready to give out under him- he was grateful that the feet had turned from agony to numb long ago. Bruises and small cuts were covering his whole body from where he had fallen across tree roots or stones.

("How can anyone possibly be that clumsy, Merlin?")

His brain had decided to fall asleep and now left him lightheaded, but he didn't mind- not anymore. It made things easier if he didn't have to think too much. A hunting horn sounded in the distance and the boy gave his best to run faster, even though his breathing hitched and his heart must soon stop from all the stress. It was a wonder anyway how the broken thing could still beat.

("All I know for sure is that I lost both my parents to magic. It's pure evil. I'll never lose sight of that again.")

He had been one of the best runners in Ealdor, but his body would have given up sometime ago if it hadn't been for the strict training that came with being the Prince's servant. And wasn't it ironic how the thing that had brought him in this situation could also save him.

(Arthur's serious eyes, "One day you'll need it.")

Scratch that. The Prince's ex-servant. How things could change... and one only ever noted how important something was, when it suddenly missed. How do you continue when you've lost your sense of life, your destiny? Your very self?

("I'm happy to be your servant, till the day I die.")

Something was tugging at his right foot and the boy only noticed that he was falling when his body collided hard with the floor. The last air escaped his lungs with a near-to-silent oomph that sounded deafeningly loud in the quiet forest. The animals knew better than to show themselves when the hunting party was riding. His eyes closed and for a moment he was almost tempted to remain there, lying on the hard stones and old leaves. It was so much easier to just give in to his weakened body and rest. If only for... a... second...

But the barking had come alarmingly close and already he could hear the mens voices through the trees, shouting and spurring their horses on. With a sigh the boy dragged his legs under himself and searched a tree to use as stabilization. Despite of the strong wood, it took three attempts until he finally stood and took a step forward.

("Till the day I die.")

The next step sent him swaying again and he nearly collapsed then and there. They were too quick. Not even the best training could prepare someone to outrace a horse.

("Idiot." the Prince's fond smile, "Why do you think I've been studying all those strategies for years?")

He had tried to lead the hunters on difficult terrain, where they couldn't rely on horses, but it was no use. And now it was too late anyway. The noise had almost reached him and the boy turned round, his eyes frantically searching the area for a hiding place. There was none. The insetting winter had taken the leaves off the trees and bushes and left naked skeletons. Hysterical laugher bubbled in his stomach. This was just his luck. He eyed the tree he had used to steady himself earlier and bit his already bleeding lips, shuddering as cold metal touched his tongue. The branches started low. It was entirely possible. Or would, if he had been in his usual state.

("You're not a knight. You aren't even a physician. You're nothing but a servant.")

He gritted his teeth and climbed. The tree was young and not very high, but the boy had lived through his personal hell by the time he reached three meters. Then the hunters were at him. He hold his breath as the dogs sniffed uncertainly around the trees, causing the riders to dismount and frown. They looked great in their shining armor and blood red cloaks, all flashy and proud. Compared to his torn dark cloak and bruised skin, the knights didn't look like they had chased him for what must now be about a week. Some murmured angrily or excitedly, it was hard to tell. Only when one of them lifted a hand everyone fell silent. Golden hair shone in the light of the setting sun, a star in the sea of blood.

"He is here."

It took an eternity for him to process the words. How could three so harmless rhings destory a life? Now the whispering was nervous-excited. The prey was close. His branch took that moment to crack and for a precious moment he was falling, sailing with the wind. Then reality and the floor caught up with him. The knights shrank back from him immediately, some yelping in shock or fright. It didn't stop them from pointing their swords at the small heap, covered by an old blue cloak.

(Arthur hiding with a cloak at the tournament, then much later soft cloth in his hands "Take this, before you chase all animals away with your shivering.")

"Show yourself!"

He was just so tired, too tired to move. The last broken hope had taken all energy. Why shouldn't he enjoy the last few seconds before everything was lost forever? Let his poor being relax one last time in the almost relieving inescapability?

A boot touched his side, before a sharp cold blate took its place. The boy shivered instinctively.

("Something that's more important than anything.")

"Who are you? Show yourself or I'll run you through instantly."

They were still expecting a trap, after all that had happened. It made him want to laugh and cry at the same time.

("Do you know how to walk on your knees?"
and "I never had a friend who could be such an ass." - "Or I one that could be so stupid.")

His body felt strangely light as he forced himself on his hands and then on his knees, the tip of the sword resting on his neck. The hood fell back almost on its own, glad to finally bring this to an end. At least his sword was sharp- he had sharpened it himself before ths began. Lifes away from now.

"Hello Arthur."

Blue eyes widened a fraction. The sword barely made a sound on the dry leaves as it hit the ground, a knight jumping to place his to the bare neck and keep the sorcerer at bay. He couldn't be older than 20.
The Prince didn't even notice, his rigid face betraying all cold looks. It seemed to take ages until the sharp breath broke the silence, making everyone flinch with its sudden force.

("You're the only friend I have and I couldn't bear to lose you.")

"Merlin."

What do you think? Is the style ok? Are there any huge errors?
And is the idea worth continuing? (Though then the style of writing would be a different one...)

Reviews always make my day :).