"Choose."

The word itself was simple, but it killed Merlin a little on the inside. He felt his brain go a little numb, the dread overpowering his senses for a moment.

"...what?"

"You heard me." The man holding his two best friends snarled. He shook the king and the knight. "Choose who lives."

Merlin could imagine what they would both be saying if they weren't gagged. 'Don't be stupid, choose him.' Arthur and Gwaine we're very similar, Merlin realized, even if they may squabble like birds over a piece of bread. They were both strong and selfless, both embarrassed easily - though by vastly different things - and they both were so protective it was ridiculous.

Merlin tried to look for another option, first thinking magic, but quickly dismissed the idea. The knife held at his own neck would prevent that, and if he were to die Arthur and Gwaine would most definitely follow.

"Why?" Merlin gasped.

The bandit leader sneered and growled, "You attacked my camp, killed my men. I can't just let that stand."

Merlin winced and felt the blade bite a little deeper into his skin. The man holding his arms at a painful angle snarled his agreement, his rotten breath washing over Merlin's face and making him gag.

An idea, one the two in front of him would kill him for, popped into his head. His face fell into a thoughtful mask.

"I choose…" Arthur and Gwaine both looked up with raised eyebrows. They knew he'd rather die than choose, so what…?

A sense of dread filled them at that thought, and their fears were confirmed moments later.

"...me. Kill me, and let them go."

Arthur and Gwaine began struggling fiercely, screaming behind their gags, but they could not get away from the man holding them.

The bandit leader nodded once and smirked and the man holding Merlin. The man howled his delight and screamed, "You killed my brother!"

He drew the knife through Merlin's throat, watching in satisfaction as the warlock fell limply to the ground. His flesh seperated from flesh, and his head tipped back. Gallons of blood poured from his jugular, pooling on the forest ground, and he choked before going still.

Gwaine screamed behind the gag, watching the only friend he'd had in a long while fall, dead. He writhed as a terrible burning rage ripped through him, and he wanted, needed to kill all of them, every single one. He would let this crime against him go unpunished.

Arthur went limp and silent, the air sucked from him in a moment. The wind left his sails and he slumped, eyes never leaving the body of his best friend going on nine years. In all those years, all those battles, all that tragedy and betrayal, Merlin had always been by his side, making sure he came out on top. Why now?

The leader laughed and the two stunned men were tied and left on the ground, a puddle of blood slowly seeping toward them. Then they were gone, horses and men alike.

They lay on the ground, unable to move, and felt the world fall apart around them. What would life be like without Merlin? He seemed to always be around, minus the times he had hidden himself in his lab for whatever reason. He had saved everyone so many times it wasn't funny, and he had kept a smile while doing so.

While they were despairing, Merlin woke up. He coughed harshly, blood spewing onto the autumn leaves, staining them red. He gasped, clutching his throat and hacking until he could breath around the lump in his throat. His fingers slid across the gash in his throat, finding only a shallow scrape.

Tears poured down his face. He doubted he would ever forget the feeling of having his throat sliced, or the anguished cries of his friends as they watched him die. Speaking of which.

Merlin sat up shakily, his arms trembling so badly he thought he'd fall. Only the thought of his friends in pain brought him to his feet. He stumbled to Gwaine, who was closer, and sliced the rope with magic. As Gwaine blearily looked up to see what had happened, Merlin cut the ropes binding the king, then collapsed to his knees.

"Merlin!" Arthur and Gwaine said at the same time. They bodily smacked into him, and if all of them were crying, no one mentioned it.

Gwaine bawled into his shoulder while Arthur cupped his friend's face.

"H-how?" He sobbed, pulling him into a hug. Merlin was trembling.

"I don't know." He gasped, hysterical. "I felt him cut me, then I woke up. I don't even remember falling." He sobbed into Gwaine's shaggy hair, and coughed into his hand. A little blood left his mouth, and they both hugged him harder.

"Well, whatever it was, I'm so glad." Gwaine hiccuped. Merlin gave a wet chuckle, letting his head lean against Arthur's.

"Me too."

Silence.

"Hey Arthur, think I could use your bath when we get back? I'm kinda coated in blood."

Arthur chuckled, rubbing his eyes and leaning slightly away. "Leave it up to you to decide, come back to life, and make a joke out of it."

"It's what I do." He smiled weakly.

"Is that a yes?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

"You know, I could use a bath as well. And lots of mead."

"Why am I not surprised."

(A/N) Well, that turned out more gory than I anticipated. Guess if it goes, it goes. Have a nice day : )