Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine.
The king was dead.
It was a beautiful day outside. The sun shone out from a blue sky, bright enough to keep them aware of their surroundings but not so bright as to render them sun-blind. There was breeze enough that the standards flapped well enough to show the gold dragon emblazoned upon the red fabric, but not so windy that their crossbow bolts would have been blown astray. The temperature was pleasantly cool, warm enough to keep their sword fingers limber but not so hot that they would be quickly worn out by their exertions. Best of all, what sun shone and what wind blew all seemed to be in the direction of the band of marauders whom the men of Camelot had rode forth to defeat. What sun blindness there was, it would affect them. What wind resistance would waver the bolts, it would hinder them. The conditions were ideal for a decisive victory, and the men of Camelot rode forth optimistically. Even excitedly.
But there had been unfortunate discoveries. First, there were far more of the marauders than any of the scouts had reported. In fact, there were so many that they no longer resembled a band of marauders so much as they did an army. Second, the marauders had been much closer than any of them had anticipated. They had reached the ruins of the castle in which the king had intended to camp for the night and managed to form ranks before his outriders even approached.
And worst of all, no matter how sizable was their host, no group of marauders could ever be deemed an actual army. Even as they outnumbered Arthur's knights, they gathered in no formation. There were groups of them spread here and there, hiding behind ruins and within what few rooms still stood, hiding behind each other, behind trees and bushes and not even all at the castle. There was no organization, no real strategy among the bandits. No leader to follow, no desire for parlay, no purpose beyond what was immediately in front of them, no purpose but to win. And there was no honor among marauders.
So the king was dead.
Distantly, Gwaine tried to rationalize. It was bound to happen sometime. Arthur had played the odds so many times…he had lived so many times when he should have perished…he'd survived wounds that ought to have killed him…he had the confidence of a man utterly skilled in battle but fond of denying the fact that he would be the immediate target of any man who recognized him. Arthur was a warrior king, and times of peace, loath as he was to admit it, frustrated him on a certain level. So Arthur would ride out to war and risk everything and escape certain death and ignore the fact that his luck could surely not hold out indefinitely and he would make it back alive.
But now, finally, the king was dead.
Gwaine had seen it with his own eyes and, now that he'd had a few minutes to distance himself, he thought that it wasn't fair. Arthur was the most skilled warrior that Gwaine had even witnessed in a fight, well-trained in the arts of battle that was due any knight raised for the job as well as possessed of impressive instincts. If he was going to die in battle, Arthur deserved an epic fight. But they had been nearly an hour into the fight, and they all had taken a battering. None of them had completely intact armor. So when a massive man swung a massive spiked mace at the king as he turned from one victim to face the next, taking Arthur by surprise, and hitting him square in the chest, he managed to connect in a broken seam of Arthur's chain mail.
Arthur had dropped like a sack of potatoes. He hadn't even had time to cry out.
Gwaine wasn't sure for how long he lived after the initial hit. The marauder, after he took a good look at the man that he had maced, was too surprised at discovering that it had been the enemy king to have properly braced himself for the three knights who launched themselves at him as soon as they saw Arthur fall. Gwaine was one of them and, as was his comrades, he seemed to find himself in something of a distinctly un-chivalrous frenzy of hacking at the man who had felled their king.
Then they had looked at the king and seen...and then battle turned immediately. The rest of the knights—mostly those trained nobility rather than the imported talent like Gwaine—turned back to the fight as it advanced. They saw that Gwaine stayed by his side.
Yes, Gwaine stayed. Someone had to. Arthur had been their commander and friend, and someone had to watch over him. His body would come to no harm.
Even as the battle raged, Gwaine stared at the fallen king. He gingerly moved aside the flaps of broken chain mail and looked at the wound. It wasn't even all that bloody. His chest just had a sort of nauseating caved-in portion, more or less where his heart would have been. Strangely, Gwaine thought of Arthur's manservant. Merlin would probably blame himself, he realized vaguely. Merlin was in charge of keeping Arthur's armor in order and, while this was not in any way Merlin's fault, Gwaine knew that the young man would blame himself.
If they could find him. Merlin had been separated from the main group from the very beginning, when they had first been set upon by a group of twenty or so of the scattered marauders. Gwaine wasn't particularly worried about him; Merlin had been amidst nearly a dozen knights, and Merlin was another who always seemed to escape near-death situations. Besides, he did not wear the guard of a knight of even anything with the crest of Camelot. If he was unhorsed, he could probably blend in well enough with the frenzied and un-uniformed bandits to escape certain harm. Merlin would surely be fine. But when he found out that the king had died and that he hadn't been by his side, even if there was no way that manservant Merlin could have done anything to prevent the randomness of the attack…Merlin was not going to react well.
In a way that Gwaine knew was very selfish, he was glad for Merlin's inevitable distress. They'd have to look after Merlin, who would no doubt be fairly frantic and end up trying to do something stupid like try to wake the king, even knowing that the knights had certainly tried that. But the knights had gone into battle often enough to see when a man had died, truly died, by the look of their eyes.
The lack of breathing was also a pretty good indicator.
But they would have to keep Merlin calm, and Gwaine considered Merlin his closest friend, even knowing that the rank was not mutual. Although, Gwaine thought morbidly, he might move up in the ranks now that the king had fallen. There was no pleasure in the thought. But Merlin would be Gwaine's charge in this so awful of a situation, and looking after Merlin would be a distraction...and then Gwaine wouldn't have to look at the king anymore.
Leon was holding himself together surprisingly well. The roar of rage and despair that he had let loose when he had seen Arthur, followed by a charge into battle, had made Gwaine certain that Leon was going to be as much trouble as Merlin. But Leon seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Gwaine, and Gwaine had not seen Leon stand still more for than a minute since the fall. He had taken charge of the army in Arthur's stead, a task that Gwaine did not envy him. After the battle had quieted and the stragglers were being finished throughout the ruins, some of the knights had moved Arthur into a circular inner chamber. It was the largest and most intact that they'd been able to find, with a single door leading in. There were only a few of them who had actually seen Arthur's body. So far, his death was probably just rumored among most of the men. For some reason, Gwaine thought that this was probably a good thing. Those in the know would have to find a way to hold themselves together before they could hold together the majority of the surviving men, of which there were surely plenty. Surely.
Not that Gwaine had interacted with any of them since Arthur had fallen. Now, he stood on one side of the doorway, standing sentry over the dead king. The marauders were gone; there was no danger of his body being desecrated, and Gwaine certainly took no pleasure in the task that he had granted himself. But he couldn't leave Arthur all by himself, alone in this alien castle, on a cracked stone floor with nothing but a folded red cape as a pillow because they had nothing else for him. It was so unfair, and Gwaine would not leave him alone.
After a few minutes, Leon joined him. Gwaine had been surprised; Leon had been so determinedly keeping himself occupied that Gwaine had been sure that his fellow knight would not cease moving and managing until he passed out from sheer exhaustion. But Leon had known Arthur longer than any other knight. He'd known Arthur from childhood. His desire to stand over his king must have been even stronger than Gwaine's. Gwaine was glad that it was Leon who stood watch with him; as much as Percival was the quiet one of the company, Gwaine knew that Leon would keep the silence now. There was nothing to be said. He just stood on the other side of the doorway and, without acknowledging Gwaine beyond a cursory nod as he took his place, began watching over the king.
There didn't even seem to be any men in the long hallway that led from the courtyard in which most of the other knights were no doubt sitting and recuperating and trading rumors about what sort of injury the king had sustained this time. The silence was somehow simultaneously dreadful and appropriate. Arthur deserved some peace now, and if that meant leaving him in silence, then Gwaine could certainly respect that, even as fond as he was of chatter in awkward situations. Arthur had actually complained about that on several occasions, Gwaine remembered sadly. He hadn't taken the complaints seriously enough to actually stop the chatter; the king made the same complaints about his own manservant and, as he hadn't been sacked after a decade of it, Gwaine had figured that he could get away with a bit of nonsense from time to time when—
There was a strangled cry that echoed down the long hallway, and Gwaine closed his eyes. It was happening.
He heard rapid footsteps—soft and pattering—as someone ran down the hallway, followed by the heavier footsteps of what Gwaine knew were the boots of a knight. Someone was giving chase. Gwaine was taken aback; surely no one would have thought to stop him from approaching the king. Servant he may have been, but he had more access to the king than almost anyone else, save perhaps for the queen. And that was a very genuine "perhaps."
Then, Merlin appeared, and Gwaine almost wanted to avert his gaze. There was fear and denial and an almost dangerous determination that was terribly sad to behold. Merlin should have been here, Gwaine suddenly thought. Unlikelihood and foolishness to have Merlin with them as it may have been, Merlin should have been there…Merlin wasn't respectful enough to be standing back, sentry over the king. Merlin would have been right beside the king, crying or raging or even laughing at the ridiculousness of this eventuality actually coming to pass. Merlin should have been there. With a shake of his head, Gwaine gestured at the pursuing knight to leave them be, and the three were soon left alone.
Merlin didn't seem to be breathing. He just stared at the king, eyes very bright, swaying on his feet between Leon and Gwaine. Gwaine was fairly certain that Merlin was trembling, and he tensed, ready to grab hold of Merlin if he fell. He wouldn't have been surprised; he'd seen bigger men than Merlin pass out when they'd looked as he did now. And Gwaine would catch him before he hit the ground.
Or, Gwaine mused, catch him if he did something stupid like run forward toward the—
Suddenly, Gwaine's musings were interrupted as Merlin did something stupid and ran forward toward the king.
"Merlin!" Gwaine hissed, immediately chasing after him. He heard Leon heave an enormous sigh and begin to jog after the pair of them.
To Gwaine's immense relief, Merlin stopped and stood over Arthur's body. Gwaine wasn't sure if he could have handled Merlin shaking Arthur, pleading with him to wake, ordering him to wake, insulting him to try to motivate him to get up and threaten him with the stocks or exile or execution. It had worked in the past. But Merlin had seen more than his fair share of corpses, Gwaine remembered. Merlin might not have recognized death as the king had fallen, but he would know when he looked at the body.
Gwaine stopped and stood next to him, watching warily as Merlin began to breathe again. His breath came shallowly.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," said Merlin, his voice uneven. He turned to Gwaine and looked at him beseechingly. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this."
Merlin's voice broke, and Gwaine frowned. He hadn't expected this either. Merlin sounded almost as though he was trying to convince Gwaine of the improbability of the whole thing.
"I was supposed to be here," Merlin continued, either not noticing or not caring to pay heed to Gwaine's expression. "Even if I couldn't stop it, I was supposed to be here."
"You couldn't have stopped it," said Leon softly, and Gwaine saw that his arms looked ready to reach out and snag Merlin. "He took a mace to the chest and—"
"That doesn't matter," said Merlin, a manic impatience in his voice. "You don't understand. It wasn't supposed to happen. Not here."
"I know," said Gwaine, trying to keep composure. This was more difficult than he'd imagined. Merlin was saying most of what Gwaine was thinking but not daring to say, although Gwaine admittedly didn't know what the hell Merlin was talking about with some of it. "It's terrible—"
"No," said Merlin emphatically, sounding almost annoyed with them. "You don't understand. This can't have happened. I know how it was supposed to happen because I've seen it somewhere else and I was going to be there and stop it and it wasn't even supposed to be here, and certainly not by some random marauder. This is all wrong."
Gwaine didn't know what to say. He wished that the brightness in Merlin's eyes would do something helpful like spill over. He could have handled Merlin crying. He'd expected Merlin crying. He hadn't expected Merlin's first conscious reaction to be trying to convince the two knights that Arthur's death was…improper, somehow. Merlin was supposed to be too inconsolable to be forming any conscious thoughts at all. He seemed almost…calm, although Gwaine saw that Merlin was trembling worse than ever, and his breath was growing shallower by the syllable. Gwaine exchanged a glance with Leon, who looked as bewildered as Gwaine felt.
"When did it happen?" asked Merlin abruptly, looking suddenly frightened and sounding strangely hopeful. "When did he die?"
Gwaine just stared at him, but Leon answered.
"Nearly half an hour ago, Merlin," the older knight said softly.
"Half an hour," Merlin repeated, and a strange mixture of emotions crossed his first. At first, he looked thoughtful, then rather sick. Finally, he looked down at the king and swallowed hard, a furious recklessness overcoming his expression. "Okay. I can do that."
Gwaine wasn't sure what he meant by that, but then he stopped trying to figure it out as Merlin placed his hands on his hips and looked in what looked like consideration down at Arthur, as though Arthur was a particularly puzzling stain that he couldn't decide how to best remove from come clothing. He wobbled.
"Merlin," said Gwaine, very quietly, and he took Merlin by the arm and tried to pull him away. Merlin needed to mourn—probably more than any of them, save perhaps Sir Leon—but staring at Arthur's corpse wasn't going to do him any good. Hell, Arthur hadn't been dead for very long. His body hadn't even cooled or stiffened, and Gwaine was afraid that if Merlin touched him, he'd convince himself that the king was just sleeping. And that wouldn't have done at all. Gwaine tried to lead him away.
Merlin shook him off.
"Don't touch me, please," said Merlin absently and with odd courtesy. He began to circle the king, glaring at Arthur as though he could will him back to life. "Leave me be."
Gwaine winced and rubbed at his head.
"Merlin," said Leon, stepping up to join Gwaine. "Come on. Let him rest."
Merlin barked out a strange laugh at that. "No, I don't think that I will. Not yet. It's not time yet."
As Merlin circled toward them, Gwaine tried to take hold of him again, grabbing at his right hand. Leon, seeing Gwaine's movement, seized Merlin's other arm. Still, Merlin wriggled free. Gwaine supposed that Merlin was taking advantage of the fact that neither of the knights wanted to hurt him, especially now. Or do something that might lead Merlin to hurt himself. His breathing was now hitched as though he was somehow sobbing tearlessly, and Gwaine thought more than ever that he would pass out if he didn't calm down. Or maybe they should just knock him out, Gwaine considered briefly, before dismissing it as too convenient perhaps too callous for them. It would only be a delay, anyway. Hoping that some distance would settle Merlin, Gwaine took several steps back in the direction of the doorway and raised his hands in surrender. Leon took his cue from Gwaine and stood at his side.
Merlin paid them no mind and bent down over over the king. He closed his eyes and placed a hand over the king's heart, no doubt feeling the depression where the mace had connected. It looked as though this was just Merlin was confirming for himself that the king was actually dead, but the look on his face…he seemed…curious. Then, more determined than ever.
"Come on, Merlin," said Gwaine, suddenly afraid.
Merlin, still hunched over the king, turned to look at the knights, glaring at them with such anger and such sadness that Gwaine felt as though his own heart was breaking all over again. Yet there was something not entirely sad about Merlin's stance. The way that he hunched protectively over Arthur's body…Merlin looked like a predator standing over and prepared to defend his kill from scavengers. It was unsettling.
Leon took a step forward, his face wary. Gwaine copied him. If they had to drag him away from Arthur and shake some sense into him, he supposed that they would have to do it. Merlin wasn't the only one mourning here, Gwaine rationalized. They approached Merlin and the king.
Merlin looked up at them, and his eyes glowed golden.
Then, Gwaine thought about swearing, but he was too busy being thrown backward-Leon at his side, through the doorway and skidding down the stone hallway, sparks jumping from his armor as he slid-to choose an adequate obscenity. When they stopped, however, Leon obliged rather colorfully. As Gwaine pushed himself to his feet, Leon sat on his backside, scowling and looking for all the world like a sulking child before Gwaine reached a hand down to pull him up. This seemed to bring Leon to his senses, and he joined Gwaine to run back down the hallway toward the circular room where Merlin—magical Merlin, he supposed—was with the king. Merlin shouldn't have to be alone...
Gwaine was vaguely surprised that he was more concerned with Merlin's state of mind that he was about Merlin apparently being a sorcerer. That was some interesting prioritizing.
In a moment, the two knights were back at the doorway through which Merlin had unceremoniously flung them with that brief glowing of his eyes. Gwaine wasn't entirely sure what they would do when they reached Merlin—especially considering that Leon was traditionally rather rigid about law and order. And law and order involved the punishment of magic. Gwaine only hoped that Leon had his wits about him properly to remember that this was Merlin and who were they to blame anyone for losing their senses when learning of Arthur's death? Gwaine had reacted by holding silent vigil. Leon had reacted by keeping occupied. So what if Merlin reacted by hurling knights about with his mind? They all had their ways of coping.
Gwaine hoped that such reasoning would be acceptable to the rest of the knights. He didn't know whether Arthur had known that Merlin was capable of such things, and he couldn't be entirely sure that Arthur would leap to Merlin's immediate defense if he found out like this. But Arthur surely wouldn't let anyone hurt Merlin.
But Arthur was dead and Gwaine was just one knight and an outsider knight at that and what the hell was he doing thinking about this when he ought to be dragging the crazed servant away from the king? Gwaine sped his pace.
Unfortunately, he sped his pace at an extremely unlucky point, for it was just as he stepped beyond the threshold of the doorway, Leon half a step behind him, that he collided with some sort of invisible wall and fell backward, hard.
This time, he did manage to swear.
Luckily for Leon, his face was spared the smack. Seeing Gwaine's bounce backward and probably recognizing what he had shouted, Leon had turned his head to look at his comrade. He'd been running too quickly to slow down properly, and while his momentum still led him to a collision with what looked like nothing, at least it wasn't head on. For him, anyway.
If Gwaine's nose was broken, Gwaine vowed, he was going to kill Merlin.
Leon, apparently more inclined to focus on the larger issues at hand, was first on his feet this time and yanked Gwaine to his feet. It was a mark of the seriousness of the matter that Leon's mouth didn't give so much as an amused twitch as Gwaine wiped blood from his face and started feeling at his nose for any damage.
Instead, Leon behaved like an adult and approached the wall that wasn't there, fingers outstretched in front of him. About a foot beyond the doorway, his fingers stopped.
"Huh," said Leon. Gwaine, abandoning perspective entirely, rolled his eyes at Leon's rather underwhelmed response and walked forward himself, reaching out to touch the wall. When he finally touched, he shivered. What a strange feeling! His fingers just…stopped. He closed his eyes and just felt. The surface was smooth and cool, as though made of glass. However, even the cleanest glass, he knew, could not be so clear that a pair of knights would collide with it. It was as though there was some invisible barrier separated himself and Leon from the king and Merlin.
There probably was, Gwaine realized. Magical. Sighing, he opened his eyes and looked beyond what wasn't there, the only sign that there was any barrier at all being the blood left from where Gwaine had made contact. A single bloody handprint seemed to float eerily in front of them. Gwaine forced himself to look away and focus.
Merlin was still hunched over the king, although utterly motionless. It was as though time had stopped within the crumbling chamber when Merlin had flung them back. In fact, were it not for the fact that he saw Merlin's chest rising and falling with the rapidity his breath, he might have thought that Merlin was so powerful a sorcerer that he had managed to stop the passage of time. But surely Merlin couldn't be all that powerful, not to have kept his secret for so long. The way that he'd been able to toss Gwaine and Leon about, and then create this invisible wall…surely they were just resultant of how high his emotions were running.
Then, Merlin moved. He placed one hand over Arthur's heart and the other on Arthur's brow. Gwaine saw Merlin close his eyes and take one very heavy breath. When he opened them again, his eyes glowed even more brightly golden than what they had seen before. Arthur's body jerked, his spine arching before falling back onto the ground.
Merlin's body shuddered.
Neither Leon nor Gwaine spoke. They didn't move. Gwaine wasn't even sure if either of them even breathed.
Merlin closed his eyes and took a very heavy breath. He opened his eyes.
His eyes glowed golden.
Arthur's body jerked, his spine arching before falling back onto the ground.
And Merlin's body shuddered.
Again.
Then, Merlin closed his eyes and took a very heavy breath. He opened his eyes.
His eyes glowed golden.
Arthur's body jerked, his spine arching before falling back to the ground.
And Merlin's body shuddered.
Again.
And again.
It happened, over and over again until Gwaine lost count, the same thing time after time. The only differences that Gwaine could see were in the way Merlin's body reacted after every time that he…magicked Arthur's corpse, or whatever it was that he was doing. The shudders turned to shakes, and the shakes to wobbles, and the wobbles to swaying. Gwaine wasn't even sure how Merlin was maintaining his hunch. The young man seemed entirely unaware of anything other than this routine or ritual or whatever it was that he kept repeating. The more that Merlin seemed to drain, the greater seemed to be the force that he was exerting on what had once been Arthur.
Leon was weeping. Gwaine probably was as well, if he had the awareness to even consider himself. It was so awful. What was Merlin doing? Gwaine had deliberately had Arthur moved away into this chamber so that no damage would be done to his body, and now Merlin was abusing it. And why? Had Arthur's death really unhinged him so much? If it hadn't been so dreadful, Gwaine would have joked that this was Merlin's way of getting back at Arthur for all of the unreasonable chores set him by the king. But this was no time for jokes. Gwaine felt as though he would never be able to joke again. This was so awful…
Merlin closed his eyes and took a very heavy breath. He opened his eyes.
His eyes glowed golden.
Arthur's body jerked, his spine arching before falling back to the ground.
Merlin's right leg gave out, and he fell to one knee.
Gwaine wished that he could look away. He began to weep as well. He brushed the tears away impatiently.
Merlin paid no mind to his fall. He closed his eyes and took a very heavy breath. He opened his eyes.
His eyes glowed golden.
Arthur's body jerked, his spine arching before falling back to the ground.
Merlin's nose began to bleed, and he swayed on his single remaining upright knee. For the first time, there was a pause in the ritual, and there was a blast of warmth as though the barrier went hot for an instant. Merlin was going to pass out. Gwaine was sure of it. Or maybe he'd put himself through too much. Maybe Merlin wasn't going to pass out, but he was going to...he wasn't. Merlin wouldn't die. He would pass out. Gwaine didn't know what the hell he was doing, but the toll was clearly great on his body…he would just do them all a favor and faint.
Then, Merlin shook his head and stiffened his hands, still on Arthur's head and heart. He closed his eyes and took one very heavy breath. Gwaine was certain that this would be the last time that Merlin would manage it.
Merlin's were closed for longer this time, the heavy breath heavier. But still, he opened his eyes.
His eyes glowed golden.
Arthur's body jerked, his spine arching before falling back to the ground.
Merlin wobbled, and the invisible barrier gave out.
Then, the king gave an almighty gasp. His eyes flew open, and his face contorted with pain as his emptied lungs refilled. Merlin's hands jumped back from the king as though he had suddenly burnt hot.
"What the hell?" Arthur croaked, barely managing to speak between coughs. He propped himself weakly up on his elbows, squinting into the light. "Oh, ow," he said, rubbing his chest, then looked questioningly at Merlin.
Merlin somehow staggered a few steps backward before falling gracelessly over his ankles until he sat on his backside on the dirty stones, staring at Arthur as though he'd never seen him before. He didn't blink.
"I can't believe that worked," Merlin breathed, sounding terribly afraid. His face gave a bit of a twitch, as though he wanted to smile at the fact that Arthur was actually alive but uncertain about how it had come about. It did not seem a good sign that Merlin was uncertain about this. Still, Gwaine could not blame Merlin for the joy that was clearly beneath the fear. Arthur was alive.
"What?" asked Arthur tiredly, his voice still scratchy as he sat all the way up, rubbing his chest. He didn't seem to notice where Gwaine and Leon stood, motionless in the doorway with mouths open wide. Gwaine, feeling aware for the first time in what felt like hours, realized that he was more frightened than he had ever been in his life.
"That shouldn't have worked," said Merlin, still staring at the king and looking utterly spooked. "That's wrong, that's too much...I shouldn't have been able to do that."
Arthur just looked nonplussed and started to try to stand. Somehow, this movement prompted Leon to move. The knight rushed forward and took Arthur by the arm, helping him up. Once he was standing, Arthur waved him away irritably, as though he did not want to appear weak before his men.
Gwaine barked out a single laugh, and Arthur just looked at him strangely before looking up at Leon.
"What happened?"
Leon just gaped.
"With the battle?" asked Arthur, raising his eyebrows as though Leon had been struck dumb. Then, he took a closer look, squinting at the knight. "Have you been crying?"
When Leon didn't answer, Arthur just looked at Merlin again, silently questioning.
Gwaine strode forward, suddenly certain that this was what he needed to do, and heaved Merlin up, hands under his arms. Even upright, Gwaine had to hold Merlin in place for a moment before it apparently occurred to him to stand on his own. At first, he thought that Merlin was too weak to stand, but he was firm on his feet once he was planted properly. It wasn't anything physical that was so immobilizing Merlin. He was afraid of what he had done. Gwaine did not find this a comforting thought.
Merlin took a step forward, apparently unintentionally as he found his feet.
Leon took a step backward, pulling the king with him. From the look on his face, it had been an instinctive move.
Merlin hung his head at Leon's reaction, as though terribly ashamed of himself. He was very pale and still shaking. Gwaine didn't move, lest Merlin's strength give out and he finally collapse. Gwaine just looked at Arthur, still unable to believe his eyes.
Arthur frowned at Leon, clearly taken aback at Leon's yank away from Merlin.
"How did the battle go?" asked Arthur pointedly, clearly disliking his lack of information. "How many men did we lose? I assume that I was injured. Got the wind knocked out of me, from the feel of it. Would you all please stop staring at me and tell me what happened? I'm fine."
Still, no one spoke, and Arthur frowned again before taking a closer look at Merlin.
"Your nose is bleeding, by the way," said Arthur.
Merlin wiped his face with his sleeve, averting his eyes.
"So," said Arthur. "This is the last time that I am going to ask before I start yelling, and I really don't want to yell, because I feel like my throat is lined with brambles."
He waited for a moment, then rolled his eyes.
"What the hell happened?"
And Gwaine didn't know what to say.
.
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Thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated. This is actually probably/possibly the last one, so feedback would be great. :)