Chapter 2

An arrow was stuck exactly where Arthur's head had been moments before, still quivering from the impact.

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"Arthur?" Merlin asked, taken aback by the sudden attack. The remainder of the knights quickly scanned the tree line to see if they could spot where the arrow had come from, carefully looking around on their horses.

"We need to get out of here. Now." The king ordered, as soon as Merlin hauled him to his feet. He had no desire to be the victim of yet another surprise ambush. "Merlin, we'll have to share your horse."

Merlin looked as if he were about to protest, but after taking one look at Arthur's tense expression, he thought better of it. Right now the air was thick with the apprehension of impeding onslaught, and there was no room for their usual banter.

He nodded in submission, handing his horse's reins to his master as he mounted, waiting impatiently for Arthur to jump up in front of him.

Their attackers had yet to strike, aside from the first warning shot of sorts, still embedded in the tree. It was almost as if they were giving the knights a chance to get away.

"What do you think they're waiting for?" Lancelot asked. He could no longer make out the dark shapes moving between the trees in the distance, but he knew the bandits were still out there.

"I don't know, but whoever they are, they're watching us. We have to get back to Camelot." Leon remarked, the least perturbed by the uneasy situation owing it solely to his many years training and fighting. It wasn't that he did not fear the brewing threat; he had just learned how to calm his nerves better than the ones newer to the craft.

"But—" Gwaine started, never one wanting to run from a fight.

"Agreed." Arthur decided, effectively cutting off any discussion about staying to meet their end with a fierce nod of his head. He knew that if they were to linger any longer, it would be the one battle they would not emerge from victorious. Spurring his horse, he galloped swiftly down the trail, prompting the knights to follow tight in behind.

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It wasn't long before they were interrupted once more, this time by an achingly familiar cry of pain.

The king spun so quickly, he would've fallen from the saddle had it not been for fast reflexes; grabbing the rough mane and steadying himself once again. He was horrified to see that the cry had come from Merlin, sitting behind him tensed in pain and surprise. An arrow, identical to the one that had nearly robbed Arthur of his life, was sticking grotesquely out of the young man's shoulder; blood staining his once-blue tunic an ugly brown. Merlin had a hand pressed to the wound, around the shaft of the arrow, but blood continued to seep through his fingers at an alarming rate.

Merlin groaned in pain as their horse reared back, tripping over its hind legs and falling to the forest floor with a crash, forcibly bringing the two men down as well.

The knights halted their own steeds as neatly as they could manage whilst the beasts nickered in fear. Bandits began to pour from the trees on both sides, strategically surrounding the hunting party in its entirety. Both Arthur and Merlin stumbled to their feet, the former pulling the latter behind him and simultaneously unsheathing his sword, doing whatever he could to keep the young servant out of harm's way.

Dismounting their panicked horses as one, the knights drew their own blades, standing protectively in front of their king and their injured friend.

If they were to fall, it would not be for naught.