The next room they found had food - open, half-empty packs of it strewn across the floor, and the sorry remainders of what had once been a whole loaf of bread. Mithian and Vivian must have found this place first, then.
Still, Merlin and Arthur attacked what little food remained. "And there's water!" Arthur exclaimed, holding up a flask triumphantly and shaking it, and only then did Merlin realise how thirsty he'd really been.
Arthur brought the flask to his lips and Merlin absently watched his throat work to swallow the liquid. He found himself suddenly fearful that the other boy would drink it all - but then Arthur wiped his mouth on his sleeve, giving a contented moan, and handed over the flask. Merlin smiled gratefully and took a long drink, savouring every moment as the cool liquid made its way down his parched throat. It felt better than anything ever had, he was sure of it.
"Thanks," he said, noticing that Arthur was watching him. Arthur shrugged and looked away.
They dug into the remaining food, too hungry to be picky. Merlin had a vague thought that maybe they should leave some behind for the next person who came here - but he was starving, and there hadn't been that much food to begin with. He tried to remind himself that he could only worry about his own survival right now... well, and Arthur's, he supposed.
That was when he lifted a bag of crisps and found the knife.
It was coated with congealed blood and Merlin's stomach churned. Suddenly he didn't feel so hungry.
Was this what Vivian had used to kill Drew? She was an idiot for leaving it behind – but maybe she was arrogant enough to think she'd find something better.
The knife, and the blood sticking to it, was just another reminder that this wasn't a challenge any of them could overcome together. This wasn't a game they could survive as a team.
"You should take the knife," Arthur said, and Merlin looked up to find him watching carefully. "You need to be armed, too."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "You really want me carrying a knife?"
Arthur raised his eyes from the knife to Merlin's face, frowning. "What part of allies do you not understand, Merlin? Seriously, you need to stop being so suspicious of me."
Merlin huffed. "Why should I trust you when you don't trust me?"
"It's not... oh, just take the knife," Arthur said with a sigh, looking away.
Merlin did, doing his best to wipe off the blood on the leg of his trousers.
For a moment they stayed sitting, Merlin turning the knife over idly in his hands, letting the light catch it and trying to enjoy their moment of quiet. It had been silent for too long - he had to assume that elsewhere in the castle, riveting fights were going on, and that was why the Gamemakers were leaving them alone. But it couldn't last, and they never knew when they'd get thrust into another confrontation. Or worse.
Merlin had no doubt that this castle held traps and dangers of its own, and the longer they went without encountering any of them, the more worried he began to feel.
BOOM!
Merlin and Arthur started, looking at each other in alarm. Merlin opened his mouth to say something vaguely reassuring, when-
BOOM! BOOM!
Merlin saw Arthur's eyes widen and then he found himself being hauled to his feet by the other boy, who had raised his sword and was looking around as if whatever was killing off tributes was here in the room with them.
BOOM!
"What the hell is happening?!" Arthur exclaimed, and for the first time Merlin heard an edge of fear in his voice. Of course, that made sense: here was something Arthur couldn't see, couldn't fight, and that terrified him.
"Let's go," Merlin said, grabbing Arthur by his free hand without thinking to pull him along... somewhere. Anywhere. They had no idea if they were moving away from or towards the danger, but he knew with a sudden certainty that they had to go.
Merlin barrelled towards the door on their left, moving out his hand to push it - and that's when he saw the piece of paper.
It was miniscule. The length of it was no more than the width of his thumb, and the writing was so tiny he had to lean in and squint his eyes to see the three words written there:
Find the staircase.
Merlin blinked, the adrenaline making it hard for him to think. Had that been there a moment ago?
He didn't even feel Arthur tugging on his hand at first, until he was forcibly wrenched around. Arthur wasn't looking at him though, but towards the other side of the room. Merlin followed his gaze, and his eyes widened in terror at what he saw.
Creeping along the floor, coming out of the crack under one of the doors, was a thick, grey smoke. That couldn't be good.
BOOM!
"Merlin, go!" Arthur began to push him back towards the door - and when Merlin turned around again, the piece of paper was gone, as if it had never been there at all.
But it had been. And Merlin knew that for whatever reason, it was there to guide them.
"No," he said, "no, Arthur, we need to go towards the centre."
They must have gone around most of the castle's outer rooms. There was no staircase here.
Taking a risk is the only way to gain the upper hand, Arthur's words from earlier rang in his ears. The staircase which Vivian and Mithian had found yesterday would be in the centre.
To his surprise, Arthur didn't argue, and they headed for the door on the other wall. They stormed through the room, and Merlin tried not to notice the fog, which had begun swirling through the air, taking the room inch by inch. They got through the door, and both stopped in their tracks when they realised that the next room was full of weapons.
Arthur made a start towards a rack of maces, but Merlin shook his head, pulling him back. "It's a trap, Arthur. Temptation. We have to keep moving."
And so they did. Pushing through doors, trying to keep moving towards the centre even though after a while Merlin wasn't sure they hadn't been turned around completely.
BOOM!
"Fuck!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling open the door in front of them - only to find a wall of smoke behind it and shutting it again, pulling Merlin in the opposite direction. Merlin felt the deep, heart-wrenching panic begin to overtake him, and could do nothing but follow Arthur blindly. How many had died now? Five? Six? Was Gwen among them? Was it only this floor? Had they missed their chance to find a way out?
They pushed open another door and both breathed out a sigh of relief. Because in this room was a long, narrow window - and the top of a staircase, spiralling round and disappearing down to the floor below.
Without hesitation Arthur and Merlin sped down the staircase, and Merlin was very aware of the fog edging along at their heels - but as they jumped off the bottom step, emerging in an identical room on the floor below, they looked up and found that the fog had stopped, hovering just at level with the ceiling.
"We need to find a window tonight," Arthur said, leaning against the wall, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.
Six cannons. Merlin would be an idiot not to think there was a good chance that Guinevere had perished in the massacre they'd just managed to escape. He felt faint, and had to lean against the nearest wall for support.
"Hey," Arthur said, and suddenly he was right by Merlin's side again, looking awkward as he placed a tentative hand on Merlin's shoulder. "At least it would have been quick. She might not even have seen it coming."
Merlin let himself look into Arthur's eyes for a moment, trying to ground himself in the calm, steady blue he found there. How had he ever been able to find them cold?
"I know," he said, trying for a smile, even if his voice was more shaky than he was aiming for.
Arthur nodded, squeezing his shoulder. Merlin wondered if this was something allies were meant to do for each other, too. For a moment it looked like Arthur was wondering the same thing; his eyebrows furrowed as he continued to look at Merlin with an almost curious expression.
But then suddenly Arthur was moving away again, both hands back on his sword, surveying the room they were in.
"This was intentional," Arthur said. "They're beginning to force us together, to speed up the action. We have to assume the others aren't far away."
Merlin nodded, his own hands clutching his knife. He wondered if Arthur was feeling the same loss he had - that they'd left their relatively safe space behind, and were never going to get it back.
A loud noise, almost like a growl, drew their attention. There was only one door in this room, and Merlin realised with dread that whatever was behind it, they'd have to face it to get to whatever lay beyond.
"We could just stay here?" he tried weakly.
Arthur raised his eyebrow. "After the stunt the Gamemakers just pulled, you really think they'd let us just hide away in a corner? It's only a matter of time before they send that fog down here, you know."
Merlin swallowed. "I was worried you'd say that."
"Come on, Merlin, where's your sense of adventure?"
"You're impossible," Merlin scoffed, but he was glad of the banter, really - it was distracting him from the panic, and the terror, and the worry about those six cannons they'd heard and whom they'd belonged to.
"You like that about me," Arthur smirked. Merlin had to smile in response. "Alright, let's do this."
Arthur waited for Merlin to (grudgingly) give his assent before he moved towards the door, pulling on the heavy brass handle and peering inside the next room.
He pulled his head back very quickly, and Merlin swallowed as he saw the look on Arthur's face - half shock, half exhilaration. That can't be good, he thought anxiously.
"What is it?" He didn't really want to know.
"I think it's a wyvern!" Arthur exclaimed, a wild sort of excitement in his voice.
No. Merlin definitely hadn't wanted to know that.
But Arthur was already opening the door again and darting inside, and really, Merlin had no choice but to follow him. And he wondered if this was the kind of thing which Arthur had been hoping for - wild, dangerous beasts he could find and slay, and feel proud about defeating. (Or, if he lost, at least it would be on his own terms. He supposed that was the best death any of them could hope for in here.)
"Oh shit," Merlin exclaimed as he saw the beast in front of them, in the centre of a room that had what Merlin vaguely registered to be a disproportionately high ceiling. He had only a moment's warning before the creature turned its terrifying red, glowing eyes on them, twisting its sickly blue scales and catching the light in what was surely designed to be a distracting way, before it opened its mouth and a beam of fire shot out past its long, jagged teeth.
Okay, it wasn't supposed to be able to do that.
Merlin was so shocked by the wyvern's unexpected ability to breathe fire that he froze, eyes wide. Arthur flung himself across the space between them, pushing Merlin to the ground and landing on top of him, knocking the air out of Merlin's lungs. Then he rolled off, and Merlin was left panting as Arthur charged at the beast sword first, with a strange sort of war cry.
Merlin staggered to his feet, once again feeling so incredibly inadequate. He had no business fighting a wyvern, not with this shoddy little knife, not when it had learned to breathe fire! As if it hadn't been terrifying enough, of course the Capitol would have to go and mutate it even further.
Arthur manage to push the monster back a few paces, only to have to throw himself out of the way as it charged forwards, and Merlin looked around wildly, desperately looking for something that could help them -
That's when he noticed the spear.
It was flung in the corner like an afterthought, and he wondered if this was part of the entertainment - if the Gamemakers would think it would make for a better show if the tributes had a chance to get some hits in themselves before being ripped to shreds.
Merlin only hesitated for a moment before flinging himself at the spear. He may not be fighter, but he was not a coward either, and Arthur was fighting for his life. He didn't even glance towards the two doors at the other end of the room - how could he even consider leaving Arthur now?
It should probably send up a red flare in his mind, that he kept forgetting the point of the Games: that in the end, he couldn't save both Arthur and himself. But he didn't care, not right now, not when the wyvern had Arthur cornered and the other boy was swinging his sword wildly in front of him, trying to keep the monster at bay.
Fire spurted from its mouth again and Arthur rolled out of the way just in time. Merlin's hands closed around the spear and the beast turned towards Merlin, as if sensing the threat he suddenly posed. It shook its wings but stayed on the ground, for now, and Merlin realised he had just one chance - one chance to prove that his ranking was wrong, that he had a talent which mattered in the Arena.
And so he thought of where he wanted the spear to go. He envisioned it striking the creature's heart, finding the weak point in between the scales he knew must be there. He blocked out everything else - Arthur's movements, the wyvern's pointed teeth as it opened its mouth and inhaled deeply - and he threw.
Merlin closed his eyes. If he missed, this was it. This was how it ended.
But instead came only silence. And he opened his eyes to see the wyvern's red eyes widen, the spear deeply impaled in its flesh. And with a pathetic huff of smoke, it keeled over, eyes rolling back in its head.
Merlin turned to stare at Arthur, who was looking back with a look of complete shock on his face.
"You killed it." He gaped, looking between Merlin and the beast. "You... how did you do that?"
Merlin shrugged. "I guess I'm not as useless as everyone thought."
"But..." Arthur shook his head, getting to his feet, and now it was his turn to look shaky. "But at training. Your score. I don't - how could they give you a four?"
Suddenly he looked completely, irrationally outraged, and Merlin felt his stomach drop. Of course, he should have realised that this would change things. Arthur hadn't thought of Merlin as a threat before, but now...
Merlin shook his head, figuring that honesty was his best policy right now. "I don't know. I thought they were fairly impressed with me at the evaluation, but then..." He trailed off, remembering exactly what had happened after. His run-in with Arthur, Uther's cold look as he promised Merlin that he'd pay for this.
He eyed Arthur's sword, which Arthur was still holding raised – he was still poised for an attack, or for having to defend himself. Was he worried about what Merlin would do next? Had this broken the tentative trust they'd managed to build between them?
He didn't know why, but that thought saddened him immensely, even if he'd had no choice but to do what he did. Even though he shouldn't have to hide what he was capable of.
Arthur was still gaping at him. "My father said... but I thought..." he shook his head, eyes darting round - damn cameras! Of course Arthur couldn't say anything which might jeopardize Uther's standing in the Capitol, couldn't in any way indicate that foul play had been involved, even if he was putting two and two together about what had really happened.
Instead his eyes fell on Merlin again, and Merlin saw Arthur's conflicted feelings play across his face clear as day. Arthur had clearly had no idea about what Uther had done, and was now ashamed, and worried... and angry. But angry at his father, or at Merlin? Angry that he'd been kept in the dark about this, or that Merlin's ranking had been influenced unfairly?
"Arthur?" Merlin asked tentatively.
"I'm..." Arthur's face hardened, and Merlin held his breath. "I'm sorry the Gamemakers didn't give you the ranking you deserved," he said finally - and Merlin could see the silent plea for Merlin to understand everything he couldn't say.
"It's not your fault." Merlin wanted to say more, too, but like Arthur he found himself unable to find the right words, and just had to hope that Arthur understood his meaning. He hated that they had to keep their words so closely guarded, but he couldn't imagine what might happen if word got out about Uther's foul play. Merlin didn't give a damn about him, of course, but for all they knew it could affect Arthur and Morgana, too, and he suddenly found that he wasn't willing to risk that. "This doesn't change anything, right?"
Arthur eyed the wyvern for a moment, and Merlin knew he had to be weighing up his options; that he was thinking like a tribute again, not like the truly decent person whom Merlin was beginning to suspect that was hiding underneath. And to a tribute, Merlin was suddenly looking like more of a threat, but he was also turning out to be a more powerful ally than anyone could have anticipated.
"Bring the spear," Arthur said, and Merlin let out a relieved breath. Somehow, he could no longer imagine having to face whatever horrors lay ahead of them without Arthur by his side. And, just maybe, Arthur was beginning to feel the same way.
As he moved to pick up the spear, Merlin noticed something on the floor, half covered by one of the wyvern's massive claws. Turning his body slightly, Merlin moved the claw as inconspicuously as possible, and saw another of the tiny pieces of paper. He bent down, under the cover of struggling to to pull the spear from the creature's flesh, and read:
The right way is wrong.
Merlin frowned. He didn't understand – what did that even mean? Were these messages from Gaius, or was there actually a sponsor out there with a vested interest in Merlin's success? But then why send these cryptic messages, on pieces of paper so tiny surely not even the cameras would see them? A sponsor would want their gifts noticed... and there was no way Gaius could afford to send anything into the Arena without help. These messages couldn't come from him.
But then who?
Merlin straightened up, feeling fairly certain that the piece of paper would mysteriously vanish just as it had appeared. And sure enough, when he glanced back down, there was nothing.
Meanwhile, Arthur was moving towards the two doors on the wall in front of them, and turned towards the door on the right-hand side. "Wait," Merlin said, and Arthur turned back, eyebrows raised. "I think we should take the other door."
"Why?" Arthur frowned.
Merlin opened his mouth to explain, then hesitated. There was something about the nature of these notes – how small they were, and how they disappeared the moment after he'd read them - he was pretty sure that whoever was sending him messages didn't want anyone else to know about it. And even if he wanted to tell Arthur, there was no way of doing so covertly.
Instead he only shrugged, moving towards the door on his left, motioning for Arthur to follow him – and to his mild surprise, Arthur did without further question. To Arthur, it probably didn't matter – and maybe there would have been no danger on the other side of the right door, maybe these messages were merely meant to mess with his head... But as they opened the door to the next room, Merlin couldn't help but feel slightly relieved to find it empty and quiet. A reprieve, he thought. He wondered what had been behind the door on the right, but he suddenly really didn't want to find out.
Several different doors led out of this room, and one stood ajar, revealing a balcony beyond. Upon seeing it, Arthur headed forwards at once. "Perfect," he said, "we'll be able to see the projections from here."
"Hold on," Merlin said, looking round. "This doesn't make sense. The staircase wasn't close to the side of the castle at all, how can there be a balcony here?
Arthur waved an arm in the air, not bothering to look round at him. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin, we probably just got turned around while we were running around upstairs."
He walked out onto the balcony and sat himself down, leaning back and looking up as if expecting the images of the fallen tributes to appear at any minute. Merlin sighed. Well, what else was there to do but follow? He trailed after Arthur, and plonked himself down next to him, leaning back.
"It's too quiet," Arthur murmured after a moment. "I wish they'd just get it over with. Whatever they're going to do to us."
Merlin glanced sideways at Arthur. To the casual observer, he looked relaxed - head tilted back, sword resting on his bent legs - but Merlin knew better. Arthur was anxious, discomfited by the uncertainty of this entire situation. He clearly thrived best with an immediate threat in front of him, and the waiting around must be killing him. Maybe that was the Gamemakers' plan for him: see how long it'd take before he broke.
For his part, Merlin liked the quiet. Even knowing it was temporary, he let himself sit back and enjoy it. He knew it was an illusion, all of it; that there were people watching their every move and looking for a way to exploit their weaknesses. But sitting here next to Arthur... he felt safe. He knew he wasn't, but that didn't really matter. Something about Arthur calmed him; maybe knowing that he would jump up and protect them both at the merest hint of a threat, or just knowing that even if Merlin died here, he wouldn't be dying alone.
He didn't know how long they sat there, in almost-comfortable silence, leaning back against the railing with their arms almost touching. But then the anthem began to play.
Merlin sat up and he felt Arthur do the same next to him. He drew in a shaky breath, and looked down in surprise when he felt Arthur's warm hand close around his own.
He looked up to meet Arthur's eyes, but Arthur wasn't looking his way.
"Just in case it's Gwen," Arthur said quietly. Merlin nodded. Or Morgana, he added silently. He wasn't sure what exactly the nature of Arthur and Morgana's agreement had been before the Games began, but she was his sister. Surely her death would hurt, even if Arthur had probably had a while to prepare for the eventuality.
The first projection showed the wide-eyed, anxious boy from Four. Gilli. Merlin tried not to feel too relieved - Morgana hadn't been on their floor, then.
Next was the girl from Six. Arthur inhaled sharply in surprise, and Merlin turned at the noise.
"Elena," Arthur whispered as if that explained everything. "She was a good fighter." He didn't sound sad, exactly, but he sounded respectful. Honouring a fallen warrior in a way probably only a fellow warrior could. Merlin could only feel a mix of terror that this girl (even if he hardly knew her) had suffocated from poisonous gas probably only a few rooms away from them, and relief that he had one less person to worry about.
The tall, lanky boy from District 7 was next - Ota, Merlin thought his name had been. And both of the District 9 tributes, Arro and Helen, had also perished. He remembered those two from training; they'd stuck together, keeping a low profile. Merlin wondered if they'd been working together in the Arena too, and if they'd been the two cannon blasts that had come at the same time. He wondered if they'd been scared.
He shook his head. Of course they'd been scared.
One name to go. Please not Gwen, he thought. There was no reason to think she'd been on the same floor - but of course not all the deaths today had to be because of the gas. Please not Gwen.
It wasn't Gwen.
It was Ewan, the boy from District 10. Another of the small ones. Once at training, he had asked Merlin for help with a knot he couldn't work out how to tie properly. He hadn't been very good at anything, except for camouflage; a skill which couldn't have been much help at all in this Arena.
But it wasn't Gwen. Merlin closed his eyes, letting himself feel the shameful, selfish relief and trying not to remember Ewan's face, his fierce determination as he'd shared with Caesar his belief that he could survive this, that he would get to go home again. None of that had helped him, in the end. There was no justice to be found in the Hunger Games.
"Districts 6, 7 and 9 are all out," Arthur said. "We still don't know about one of the deaths, and whether Vivian or Mithian..." he trailed off. He didn't need to finish the sentence.
Merlin nodded, fatigue setting over him like a stone. He wondered how much more of this he could take; if there'd come a point when he simply couldn't feel any more, and would simply cease to feel anything at all.
He was so tired. And hungry. And sick of this, sick of wondering whether every moment would be his last, and whether he'd have to watch Gwen and Arthur die before succumbing to the inevitable himself.
Merlin didn't notice drifting off to sleep, the warm feeling of Arthur's hand in his own the only thing keeping him grounded in this hopeless, godforsaken place.
ooooooooooooo
"Merlin," Arthur hissed, "Merlin, wake up!"
Merlin started awake, lifting his head from Arthur's shoulder, trying to make sense of his surroundings - they were on the balcony. Arthur was beside him, tugging on his arm, and before he knew it Merlin found himself half-dragged on top of Arthur, who was pushing himself as close to the edge of the balcony as possible.
"Arthur, wha-" Merlin started but Arthur clamped a hand over his mouth and shot him a wide-eyed, warning look.
Merlin heard a door slam, and froze.
Someone was in the next room.
He heard shuffling - whoever it was, they were moving slowly. Maybe they were tired. Or, Merlin realised with a terrible sense of dread, they were hunting.
It could be Gwen - if she was still alive. It could be Morgana - but Merlin found himself desperately hoping that it wasn't, because he still didn't know what Arthur would do once he was reunited with his sister. Or, it could be any of the other nine remaining tributes, in which case they were screwed.
Arthur had Merlin pulled against his chest, and Merlin could feel the other boy's ragged breathing on his neck - he was trying very hard not to think about that fact right now, and focus on keeping as silent and still as possible.
His eyes darted over to where his spear stood leaning against the railing. Oh shit. While he and Arthur remained invisible to whoever was in the other room, from a certain angle he was sure that whoever was in there would be able to see the spear - and if they had any sense, they'd go straight for the weapon, especially if the weapons store they'd found on the floor above had been the castle's only supply.
The footsteps seemed to slow even further, and then stop. Shit, shit, shit.
What if whoever it was decided to stay in there? Was there any way Merlin and Arthur could stay hidden out here? There was nowhere to run - and they were too far up to jump.
The steps picked up again. They were coming closer.
Arthur's breathing was ragged against Merlin's neck, and Merlin vaguely wondered if Arthur was scared too. No, surely not. He didn't think Arthur was scared of death in the Arena, anyway - but maybe he was scared of the decision he might have to make, depending on who was on the other side of the door.
Merlin saw the handle turn -
A door slammed, and Merlin and Arthur both started; Merlin may or may not have elbowed Arthur in the stomach.
"What are you doing here?" a male voice sounded. Merlin recognised it, but in his panic, he couldn't place it.
"I told you, I was checking out this floor," a female voice responded. "You were supposed to go upstairs."
The voice was cold and hard, and for a terrible moment Merlin thought it was Morgana. But no, that wasn't quite right. Plus, Arthur didn't react to her voice, though he slowly removed his hand from Merlin's mouth as though he'd forgotten it was there. When Merlin tried to shift, Arthur held him in place, draping his hand over Merlin's abdomen and pulling him closer. Merlin felt like he couldn't breathe, and he wasn't sure it was entirely because of fear.
"I can't go upstairs, there's some kind of smoke or gas or something up there. I reckon that's what took out all those tributes before."
"Good," the female voice responded. "Well, we best keep moving. I don't think there's anyone here."
"They must all be hiding on the ground floor then. We went the wrong way.
"No, this is good. We know there's no one up here now, and they can't get through our floor without going through the Cournucopia. And now we know we won't get ambushed from above. Those rats don't stand a chance."
"We should head back. I don't like leaving Sophia down there alone."
"Awww Cenred, are you worried about your girlfriend again?"
"Shut up. You know it's only a matter of time before the Pendragons crawl out of whatever hole they're hiding in, and she's no match for them. I'm not willing to risk that, are you?"
Merlin felt Arthur tense underneath him at the mention of his name, but to his credit, he didn't make a sound.
"Fine. I've checked everywhere up here anyway, it's all clear."
More footsteps. The slam of a door. Silence.
Arthur let out a huge exhale, which tickled Merlin's neck. After a moment Merlin coughed, and Arthur tensed, then released the iron grip he still had on his waist. Merlin extricated himself awkwardly, and they both scrambled to their feet.
"Cenred and Morgause. Brilliant," Arthur said. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and Merlin wondered for a wild moment whether perhaps he wasn't the only one who'd found himself a little too affected by the position they'd been in just now.
"And they've found the Cournucopia," Merlin said. "Which means they have lots of weapons."
"And food," Arthur added, raising an eyebrow. Merlin couldn't help but snort, needing to cling to even a shadow of normalcy, such as it was.
"Yes. Very important." He had meant it jokingly, but as if on cue, Merlin's stomach growled.
Arthur nodded, as if that decided the matter. "If we wait too long, we'll be too weak to fight them at all." He made to push past Merlin, but Merlin stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
"Whoa, wait, you're just going to what? Charge after them?"
Arthur shot him a look like he suspected Merlin of having mental problems.
"Arthur, no, you can't," Merlin shook his head fiercely. "You have no idea what weapons they're carrying - what if it's crossbows, or guns? We need a plan."
Arthur shifted his weight, looking torn. He looked like he was itching for a fight - against people who could actually give him one - but Merlin knew he understood.
"Then what do you propose we do?" Arthur asked, throwing up his hands in frustration. "You heard them. They've got the Cournucopia under full control - on the floor right below us, it sounds like - and they've got at least one more person on their team. Sophia is nowhere near as strong a fighter as Cenred and Morgause, but she's sneaky as hell, my father even advised me to ally myself with her if I could."
Merlin shuddered. He remembered Sophia from training only as the creepy girl who'd kept staring at Arthur. He couldn't imagine her having any kind of useful skills that'd warrant an alliance.
Speaking of alliances. "It sounds like they think Morgana's still alive," Merlin said, watching Arthur carefully, still not sure where Arthur stood on wanting to find his sister.
But the other man gave nothing away. "Yes. And they're expecting us to attack, that much is clear. They must have traps in place."
There was something else, but Merlin wasn't sure how to bring it up - and if he even should. The way Morgause and Cenred were talking, it sounded like they had the Cournucopia floor under full control, and unless they'd missed more tributes during their search of this floor, that only left the ground level. If Gwen was still alive, that was where she'd be
But Arthur had told him that when they found Gwen, he'd be off to continue the Games on his own. And while there could be no question of Merlin going back on his word to Gwen about keeping her safe if he could, he didn't want to leave Arthur behind, either. And not just because he was a powerful fighter, but also because... well, he felt like Arthur was worth keeping around.
Being at the end of your life gave you an odd sort of clarity, and Merlin was realising that for whatever reason, the boy in front of him - even though he was a Career, a trained killer and practically a stranger - felt oddly like home. And in a place like this, that wasn't something Merlin was willing to lose.
If this day was to be his last, he wanted Arthur to be one of the last people he saw. It was selfish, but for all intents and purposes, Merlin was dying. He was allowed to be a little selfish.
Anyway, they couldn't get to the bottom floor without going through Cenred and Morgause's territory first. That needed to be their main priority. And Merlin already knew that if Arthur decided to go for the Cournucopia, Merlin would follow.
ooooooooooooo
It didn't take them long to find the staircase this time - and Merlin was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that the way they moved through the castle wasn't quite as random as he'd previously thought.
Arthur's sponsor gift and Merlin's mysterious notes had appeared out of nowhere, there one moment and gone the next. He would have to assume that the bodies were also being removed from the Arena somehow, as in the other Games he'd seen. Maybe the placement of the rooms was also being manipulated. Maybe the walls moved when they weren't looking.
He hated it, this feeling of being controlled. Of people watching him, having the power to kill him at any moment.
They really had no idea what awaited them below, but they had to assume that there were only three people on the whole floor - and they were likely all by the Cournucopia, or just around it. And since there were three of them, Arthur had reasoned, they'd likely be making some kind of noise if they were all together (especially Sophia, who was apparently a bit of a chatterbox).
So Merlin and Arthur's best bet was to move carefully, weapons at the ready, and try to locate the Cournucopia. Then, Arthur would provide a distraction, hopefully drawing Cenred and Morgause out while Sophia stayed behind as she had before.
And this was the part that terrified Merlin, and which he'd done his very best to talk Arthur out of: he didn't want to split up. But Arthur had argued that it made the most sense for Merlin to take on Sophia while Arthur distracted Cenred and Morgause - because, as he'd explained, if the District 3 pair took Arthur down and turned on Merlin, Merlin didn't stand a chance, but he might actually hold his own against Sophia. And if Merlin seized the Cournucopia, he seized all the weapons, giving him a better chance against Cenred and Morgause should he need to fight them on his own. And then he could get down to the ground floor, maybe even find Gwen. It was Merlin's best chance, Arthur had said, as though that sealed the deal.
It was a ridiculous, self-sacrificing plan. Merlin hated it. He wanted to express to Arthur that he'd rather die at his side than have to face the rest of the tributes alone... but he didn't know how to say it, or how Arthur might react. Honestly, he couldn't even explain it to himself, so he kept quiet.
But he didn't want to fight Sophia. Merlin had gone into this competition fully believing that he wasn't going to be able to kill anyone, and so far the only thing he'd actually defeated had been the wyvern. Even if Sophia was the enemy, she wasn't here by choice any more than he was, and Merlin had no right to end her life.
And this is why I'm gonna lose, he realised with a sudden, startling clarity. He shook his head, trying to will that thought out of his mind. He couldn't afford to worry about what was to come, not anymore.
Merlin wondered if Gwen would be able to kill anyone, if she had the opportunity – or if she maybe already had. But the only way to know, the only chance he had of seeing her again, was to go through the Cournucopia. And as much as he might have wished that Arthur had asked him to stand at his side so they could face Cenred and Morgause together, Merlin couldn't bring himself to forgo the only chance he had of finding Gwen. He would just have to trust that Arthur would come back, and then...
Then they'd deal with whatever awaited them on the final floor. At least if they took the Cournucopia, they'd be a hell of a lot better prepared than they were right now, half-starved and with a spear and a sword between them.
Before they began to move down the staircase, Arthur stopped Merlin, a hand on his arm.
"Look, Merlin, whatever happens... thanks. For sticking by me."
Merlin cocked his head. "I reckon it should be the other way around, actually."
Arthur forced out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, maybe. But none the less, this place... I probably wouldn't have been able to face it without you, to be honest."
He looked embarrassed by the admission, Merlin noted, but with that same edge of stubbornness which Merlin had maybe come to admire about him, just a little bit.
And in that moment Merlin wanted nothing more than to show Arthur exactly how much their brief friendship (because that, he realised, was what it was - as poorly timed and understandably strained as it had been) had meant to him. But once again he became aware of the cameras, and of the fact that if they should survive their next trial, the sponsors would still be watching. And seeing as Arthur had received no help since the medicine on the first day, Merlin had a bad feeling that their allegiance was displeasing someone on the other side, whether it be the sponsors or Uther Pendragon himself.
But he also realised that Arthur had probably known all of this going in. Had known whom his father had wanted him to join forces with, and had intentionally gone against it, choosing to play the game his own way. And Uther was punishing him for it now (Merlin had no doubt that the man could have easily sent a bit of food or water their way if he'd wanted to), but still, Arthur did not relent.
"Me too," Merlin said, making a decision - to ignore the fact that there were cameras, and that there were rules, and people to impress, just for a moment. If Arthur didn't care, then Merlin wouldn't either, and if the Gamemakers didn't like it, they could cut away.
Arthur's eyes met his own, and he looked anxious, but also a little bit hopeful. Merlin smiled, and Arthur tentatively returned it. Merlin felt Arthur's hand tighten its grip on his arm, and he stepped a little closer, letting his own hand reach out and grace Arthur's face, ghosting over the place where his cut had been, where by all rights there should not be a scar; but the skin was smooth and soft. Merlin's eyes fell to Arthur's lips, and he licked his own. What the hell, right?
Thump!
Merlin and Arthur both started, whirling around - but there was nothing there.
Nothing, that is, except for a box. Merlin chanced a look at Arthur, who was frowning down at it, nonplussed.
"I think it's for you," Merlin said, but Arthur was already moving away from him, towards the box which had somehow appeared out of nowhere a few feet away from them.
Merlin followed a few steps behind, and watched as Arthur gingerly reached out and prodded the box with the tip of his sword – but nothing happened. Arthur reached down and picked it up, looking inside, and then promptly dropped it with a look of disgust.
"What is it, Arthur?" But Arthur didn't answer, only strode past him, a stormy look on his face.
After a moment's hesitation, Merlin moved over to the box and peered inside.
It was empty.
Well, he thought, that made it pretty clear what Uther thought about Merlin and Arthur's... alliance.
It made him sad, even though he knew that in his own way, Uther was looking out for his son. Arthur's appeal didn't lie in gaining sympathy, it lay in emitting strength. He needed to look unbreakable, as he had before the Games began – or at least that's what Uther thought, because that's what had worked for him in his own Games. And could Merlin really blame for the man wanting his son to come home?
Yes, when it's Uther's fault that Arthur is here to begin with, Merlin thought with a growing hatred of the man. And Uther had two children in the Arena; no matter what, he would be losing at least one of them, and he had to have been prepared from that. He must even been counting on it.
Suddenly Merlin wondered what Morgana and Arthur's training had really been like, before the Hunger Games began. He'd assumed that Uther had been training them to work as a team... but maybe he'd been pitting them against each other from the beginning, testing them, trying to make them prove to him that they were the one who deserved to live over the other.
Arthur's hesitation when he spoke of finding Morgana suddenly made a lot more sense.
"Arthur..." Merlin began, not sure what he could even say.
"We should go." Arthur's words were clipped, his tone brokering no argument, and when Merlin turned towards him Arthur already had one foot on the stairs, not looking his way.
"Yeah, okay," Merlin mumbled, feeling defeated. Once again he found himself desperately wishing they could find somewhere without cameras. Just for one brief moment, that was all he wanted, before the end. Was that too much to ask?
He sighed, following Arthur down the staircase. When he glanced back towards where the empty box had been, it had vanished. Message received, loud and clear.
But when he turned back, Merlin paused. Stuck to the top of the bannister was another note. He leaned in, under cover of pushing his spear down the stairs ahead of himself, and read the words.
Do not be discouraged.
"Come on, Merlin!" Arthur hissed from halfway down, and Merlin didn't have time to ponder the third mysterious message, or who was leaving them for him. Or, most importantly: why?