Seven

"NO!" The wild scream was torn from his throat raw and filled with pain, and before his brain could register what the hell he was doing he'd jumped.

Just as the block was kicked out from under Merlin's feet. The boy swung in the air, kicking and struggling. His hands at his throat. His mouth open in a silent scream, lips turning blue. Head back at a horrible angle. The crowd screaming. Gwen sobbing. Merlin's wide eyes locked with his, tears pouring down his cheeks, as Arthur fell from the balcony. Arthur. They screamed. Arthur, Help!

He landed with a crash on the hay cart parked below, and rolled onto the cobbled ground. He shoved frantically through the crowds that parted readily for him, and he drew his sword with a metallic shingggg.

"Arthur! What do you think your...!"

But Arthur had eyes only for Merlin was his struggles became weaker. Help. Arthur. He didn't want to die. He was so scared. So, so scared. I don't want to die Arthur!

But his eyes were sliding closed, lashes fluttering, as his thrashing slowed and his fingers slipped from the knot round his neck. Lips parted trying to draw in air, blood tricking over white skin.

Suddenly Arthur found himself by the boy's side, no idea how or when he'd reached him, and with a wild howl of "MERLIN!" swung his sword in a great arc, slicing through the rope.

Merlin's body hit the wooden platform with a dull thud.

Arthur can't tell if he's breathing.

So many people are shouting, crying out, his father's voice about them all, bellowing at him. But the sound has become a dull buzz, background noise, as he falls to his knees at Merlin's side.

"Merlin." The boys name is a choked whisper off his lips. "Merlin." His voice cracks as he shakes a limp shoulder. "Merlin!" Urgency creeps in then. Is he breathing? Is his heart still beating? Did his neck break? Is he...? Is he..?

Someone's pulling him away then. And he cries out, shoving the person away. Gripping the shoulder again, turning the boy onto his back. He won't leave him. Won't leave his side. But everyone is shouting, and its Gaius, Gaius is there, cradling Merlin's head and gently feeling his neck. For a pulse? For breaks? For breath?

Dark purple blue and black bruises are blossoming painfully around the boys neck, and his face is chalk white, red blood stark against the skin. His neckerchief is pulled away so Gaius can check his neck properly, and it's pushed into Arthur's hands.

He stares down and the bloodied triangle of cloth. The blood staining the cloth a darker brown. He faintly hears his father shouting at the guards, and he wonders why they haven't reached him yet.

He looks up and his heart skips a beat at the sight. Gwen and Morgana. He's no idea when Morgana left her room, but they're there, brandishing swords at a cluster of guards, from halfway up the gallows steps. His eyes sweep up unwittingly to his father and Uther flinches at the cold pain and desperation in his son's eyes.

"Stand down!" he shouts to the guards, and then addresses his son, his voice angry and bitter. "Arthur! What's the meaning of this?"

And Arthur opens his mouth, searching for words, to explain himself as ordered. But he can't answer, can't find the words, can't explain, because he doesn't even know if Merlin's alive or not.

If he was too late.

A/N: My chapters always look so much longer on Micorsoft word, then they get uploaded and become midget chapters. Ah well.

Hope you've enjoyed the story so far.

Yes, yes, I do love beating Merlin up, it's a bad habit really. Fwahahahahaha (Evil, remember? It's hereditary.)

Thanks for reading, and (hopefully) reviewing!

Lenle G.