His back arched gracefully as his shirt billowed around him, his feet curving right over the grassy edge, falling. Tumbling. Flying. Gone.
A whisper of a scarf slid from his neck as he flew, fluttering softly onto the grass, gentle and still, despite the steady drum of Arthurs feet. 'Merlin!' hoarse voiced and bewildered, he fell heavily to his knees, hands scrabbling desperately at the muddy edge, leaning dangerously towards the water with a cry. There was nothing. The once restless water was innocently lapping against the shore, taunting him with its black emptiness. There was no splash, there should've been a noise. Scrambling up, Arthur tore off his shirt and boots and without a second look flung himself into its shadowed depths. His dive was unsteady and panicked, and he landed with a painful slap against the solidity of the lake. It was so cold. Snatching a quick lungful of air, he burrowed his head once again. The water was clear and fresh, but that made it no easier to see through. Arthur pushed around frantically, hands reaching out for an arm, a torso, a face, but closing over nothing. Stupidly, he let out another cry of 'Merlin?' and as large bubbles left his lips, a stream of water flooded his mouth, its salty taste making him choke.
Forcing his heavy feet to pedal, he tried to re-surface again, but the cold, unforgiving darkness was disorientating. Which way was up, again? His sore, unfocussed eyes caught sight of a pale object floating up beside him. He tried to reach for it. It twitched pathetically. His arms were completely numb. The urge to cough was slowly fading, and his body just seemed to drift through the water. His eyelids drooped. The dark water became the darkness of his mind. Nothing.
Something. A white shape danced in front of his face and he tried to drag his hand up to it. There was warmth, now, closing around his wrist, a thin strip curved around his waist. He was moving. Gliding through the water, but not to the air, not to the surface. Down. Submerging. But that was ok. He was tired now. He could sleep in the darkness. The rushing water coarsed noisily through his ears, lifting his hair and breeches weightlessly, until; 'Arthur!'The buzzy sound flitted around his head, muffled and confusing, and he took a breath, trying to answer it. 'Wuur?' he exhaled, weightedly turning his head. Slowly opening his drowsy eyes, he took in another breath. And another. 'I…I'm breathhhinnn?' he slurred, searching for the source of the warmth coiled around him. It was blue.
Suddenly the water wasn't there anymore. He wasn't floating. He was standing at he bottom of the lake, but he was breathing? His left arm began to shake, and he glanced down at it. There was a pale hand, wrapped in a dark blue cloth frantically rocking his arm, jolting his shoulder, jolting his head. The muscles in his face awoke into a frown as he said 'Merlin?' The pale, anxious face in front of him broke into a relived smile as he ran his other hand through his short, water laden hair. The Kings bleary eyes followed the path of his servants hand, his hair, his face, his bare neck. Where's his scarf? Then he remembered. 'Merlin!' 'Yes, I think we've covered that bit' 'You…You jumped off a cliff, you idiot!' Merlin quirked his eyes to Arthurs awkwardly for a second. 'I had to.' Forgetting that he was currently stuck to the bottom of a lake, black as pitch and forbidding, forgetting that he was the King of Camelot, forgetting that his Knights were probably waking confusedly somewhere above him, Arthur began to shout: 'You had to? What on earth for? Wha…were you just so unhappy with whatever it was that you had to try and drown yourself? Was it a joke? Are you somehow possessed? Merlin, tell me, because I really don't understand!'. The servants mouth curved into a tiny, shy little smile as he gazed to Arthurs face suddenly and uttered warmly 'You jumped…into a freezing cold lake…to save me?'. Unimpressed arms folded across the King's chest as a stern eyebrow quirked at the sentiment. 'I…um…thank you, Arthur, but I'm fine, really.' 'Merlin…' they both glanced up at the intruding whisper. Merlin eyes straying cautiously back to his masters as he cleared his throat and said firmly 'Arthur, I'd like you to meet Freya'.