A/N: Thank you Su26, GuestM Live, and Buckhunter for reviewing!


No. 23 AT THE END OF THEIR ROPE + No 26 Rope Burns

Lancelot struggled to take in a breath with his diaphragm extended as it was, with him hanging from his wrists stretched tautly up over his head. His legs dangled beneath him, and he tried not to look down at the gaping pit that ended several dozen feet below on sharp rocks. The sight was nauseating enough, but also his neck was painfully stiff from the stress position and it was difficult to move it at all. He flicked a look up; he was suspended several feet from the ledge, leaving no hope of maneuvering or finding leverage to pull himself up. He didn't know if the warlord intended to cut the rope at some point and let him plummet to his death in surprise, or simply let him slowly suffocate instead.

Lancelot's next breath hitched, and he wondered how much longer his body could hold out. Then he heard fighting break out above, though he couldn't see what was happening. There was the clang of steel and shouts, and he tried to crane his neck up to catch a glimpse of anything, but he couldn't hold the angle without his muscles pinching painfully. And so he was left hanging in suspense—literally.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long time, he heard someone yell his name.

"Lancelot!"

"Down here!" he tried to respond, though his voice didn't project as much as he'd like; he couldn't get enough air.

But it must have been loud enough, because his friends suddenly gathered around at the top of the pit.

"Shit," Gwaine swore.

"Hold on!" Arthur called.

Hands grabbed the rope line, and Lancelot choked at the sudden yank on his arms, which felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. The rope fibers dug into his flesh as he was hauled up, inch by painful inch. Lancelot couldn't breathe anymore, and his vision was going spotty when he was finally pulled up and over the ledge and laid on solid ground.

Someone untied his wrists, but his arms remained lying limply above his head until that person moved them down to his sides. Lancelot cried out as fiery needles shot up and down his limbs.

"How long were you down there like that?" Leon asked anxiously.

"I don't know," Lancelot murmured.

"Maybe we should get away from the edge," Gwaine suggested.

Lancelot nodded in agreement. "Please."

Leon and Percival grabbed his arms to help him stand, but he cried out again and they immediately let go.

"Careful," Merlin urged, stepping in and wrapping an arm around Lancelot's waist to brace him from there instead.

It was difficult getting to his feet, but with several supportive hands, he managed. His legs were wobbly and he stumbled as he was helped across the chamber to sit near the fire pit. His arms still lay limply beside him, and Merlin began to palpate his shoulders, which made Lancelot wince and groan.

"I don't think anything is dislocated," he concluded.

Small mercies.

But his wrists were chafed raw from rope burns, so Merlin turned his attention to cleaning and bandaging them, which was another painful process. Lancelot found himself holding his breath, which only made things worse.

"Lancelot, breathe," Merlin said worriedly.

He sucked in a juddering breath which came up short and made his tight chest hitch.

"Wait, can you breathe?" Merlin asked.

He nodded jerkily. "It's just…hard."

Merlin checked his ribs, though Lancelot knew nothing was broken; his captors hadn't beaten him.

"It's possible your lungs were bruised from hanging in that position," Merlin said. He turned to Arthur. "We're going to have to be gentle on the journey back to Camelot."

Arthur nodded. "Gwaine, Elyan, see if there are any horses about."

The rest of them remained, standing around while Merlin fussed over Lancelot.

"Are you all right?" Arthur eventually asked in concern.

He nodded. "Thanks for the rescue. I don't know how much longer I would have lasted."

"Not long," Merlin interjected. "Given how distressed your breathing still is. And your shoulder and back muscles are no doubt strained. Best to get back to Camelot before they get worse."

Lancelot grimaced at the thought of his pain getting worse. But he wasn't so inexperienced to not know his muscles were going to seize up.

Leon helped Merlin get Lancelot on his feet again, careful to avoid touching his arms. Walking was surprisingly hard, but outside there were horses, so he'd be able to ride home. With help.