Arthur watched Merlin fall. Over and over. There were things he couldn't unsee, like Merlin's eyes, terrified and pleading, then closing. He'd finally found something to fear. He had always been so brave. Had been . . . Arthur saw the mercenary's blade slash across his servant's throat, then the dark spray of blood. Merlin's fall, his body spasming as he died. Arthur remembered the last twitch of Merlin's hand when it splashed into the mud, a final plea for aid from a body beyond help.
His memory was hazy after that. A cudgel to the back of the head ensured his compliance when they tied him to the back of his horse, flipping the hood of a foul-smelling cloak over his face to ward off curious eyes. He drifted in and out then, his heart and head waging a war within, alternately confirming and denying the fact of Merlin's death.
He had come back to himself in an empty room. Four stone walls, a heavy oaken door, and one narrow window. Three paces wide and four paces long. He must have measured it a hundred times by now. He'd pounded on the door half a dozen times, demanding answers. None had come. His captors had stripped him of his weapons and armor and left him to pace. And remember.
"How long were you planning this?" he whispered to the doorway. "You must have planned this." Reports of bandits had sent them on a detour on the way home from the border. Lancelot had the description of the men from the last town the bandits had attacked. Elyan found their trail. Bandits. They should have been stupid forest bandits, not the professional mercenaries who sprang an ambush on the Prince of Camelot like he was a half-trained squire.
"No one was supposed to know our route," Arthur growled as he set off on another circuit of the room. "No one was even supposed to know when we were going home. Someone betrayed us. Someone-" He was shaking, his fury rising to a fever pitch as he threw himself at the door again, hammering at it until his fingers bled. "Who are you!" he shouted. His voice echoed in the little chamber. There was still no answer from without. The place may as well have been a house of ghosts.
Arthur hit the door one last time, leaving a smear of blood on the wood. Something like a sob escaped his lips as he turned away and collapsed in a corner.
He watched Merlin fall again.
Arthur couldn't even be angry at him. Merlin had finally done as he was told, taking refuge in the trees, just like the prince had ordered. How could he have known the mercenary leader would be hiding in the trees, too? The coward. To threaten the weakest of them- 'a servant, for God's sake!'- and then murder him, as though his life was worth nothing. And what of his men? Were they dead, too? Arthur remembered nothing of their arrival, couldn't remember if they'd been on the road here or not.
He hauled himself upright and looked out the window again. The scene hadn't changed. Just a farmyard with a sad little fence holding back the forest. The trees beyond were shrouded in mist when it wasn't raining. It was getting darker. Night was beginning to fall.
The stone was cold when he turned his back to the window. He rested his head against it, let the chill run through him and cool his anger. 'You were alive this morning, Merlin. You rolled up your blanket and smacked me in the face with it to wake me up. I threw a bucket of water at you and hit Gwaine when you ducked. You were happy this morning. We all were. Why are you dead now?"
A lonely whimper escaped his throat. He sank to the floor again and clenched his fist, focusing on the sting of his bloodied knuckles and swallowing back any other utterances. Arthur fixed his gaze on the door. He would keep watch on that door- all night, if need be. It was almost fully dark now, but he would keep watch. He didn't want to sleep, anyway. The longer he kept awake, the longer he could say "Merlin was alive this morning".
Arthur scratched at the growing scabs on his hand. The pain pricked him back to wakefulness as he watched the unmoving door. He listened for something, anything beyond the steady drizzle of rain the the endless quiet beyond the door.
He watched Merlin fall...