A/N: GUYS- 25 reviews since my last update?! *hugs everyone and twirls around with them*
That's right, I developed superhuman hugging powers just for this moment.
Here it is- the end of the tournament! The last chapter should be up some time this weekend :)
Lord Rasner dropped them off at the arena that morning with well wishes and concerned glances, then left to assist his son with the preparations.
"Well, this is it," Arthur said, looking around the room which was now empty of contestants aside from themselves.
"Yes," Merlin said, solemn.
Whatever the prince was about to say next was cut off by the arrival of the final round's announcer, a squat man in red with a thin, neatly-trimmed beard. The warlock was struck by a wave of recognition and he put a hand to his brother's arm without thinking. Arthur looked at him questioningly but the official had begun to speak.
"There can be only one winner of The Gauntlet. In this final round the two of you will fight to the death for that honor. Once the start call is given the match will continue until one or both of you fall; there are no further rules." The man gave a cruel smile and stepped aside so the guards could lead them through the familiar gate into the arena, now home to a single stone slab stage.
"Emrys," Arthur started, looking horrified.
"This is no time to be friendly, Arthur," the warlock wore an expression of cold determination and the royal actually felt the stirrings of fear in his heart before chastising himself. Stop it; this is Merlin. Trust him. He too took up a position of readiness, noticing for the first time that Merlin didn't have his sword- hadn't had it since the day before, in fact. He heaved a few calming breaths. Trust him... trust him.
"Start!"
Merlin flung up a hand, eyes blazing, and Arthur found himself forced to the ground as his sword flew out of reach. The warlock took measured steps until he stood, imposing, above the warrior's prone form. They locked eyes and the prince saw the strain in his brother's expression, invisible to the rest of the crowd.
"Forgrindest!"
The shock didn't even have time to register on his face before he felt himself begin to dissolve.
Merlin dropped to all fours as the dust dissipated, completely drained by what he had just done. He muttered a spell to temporarily shore up his energy reserves and called Arthur's sword to his hand, using it as a brace to rise to his feet where he remained hunched over, breathing heavily. Once his ribs had stopped doing a fair impression of a bellows he straightened to find the official beckoning him forward to a newly-summoned platform covered in what must be the competition prizes. Impressive piles of gold, jewels, and ornaments filled his gaze; but his attention was for one item alone.
He felt the presence of his goal right away, eyes drawn to a rather unassuming bronze cloak clasp in the design of an interlocking sword and shield. The red-robed man stepped to his side and raised both of their arms.
"Ladies and gentlemen- your champion!"
The audience erupted in frenzied yelling, most ecstatic but some throwing rubbish down onto the stage in their displeasure. Merlin frowned as a half-eaten sausage landed on his new boots.
"Any words, Champion?"
Words? The servant grinned.
"I give thanks to my generous sponsor, Lady Rasner, and leave my winnings to her- apart from this," he plucked the Fibula of Nytnes from its place and pinned it to his tunic. "And one last thing-" he stepped away from the official and threw his head back, "O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"
The crowd sat in confused silence for only a moment before Kilgharrah appeared in the air above them, at which point panic ensued. The Great Dragon ignored them and landed in front of his lord, waiting patiently as he clambered up the scaly neck and settled into place.
"You can have a little fun with them," Merlin sent, smirking as the dragon seemed to do the same.
Kilgharrah launched himself into the sky, scales shining gold in the sun as he roared and spouted flames that fell just short of the fleeing nobles- well, apart from a particular middle-aged woman who had been left on her litter when its carriers ran without her. But really, it was only the ridiculously-ornamented dress and conveyance that burned so it was hardly worth mentioning.
Man and dragon both seemed to laugh as they flew off into the distance, leaving the chaos behind them.
