Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, his property, his friends or his enemies. If you recognise something, it's probably not mine.
Time slows down and Merlin swears he can count the particles of dust swirling about Arthur's heels as the prince disappears round the corner. He can hear what sounds like a thousand footsteps crashing down the passageway to the physician's rooms. In the capsule Merlin finds himself in, he can almost hear the prince's heartbeat, solid and steady – more steady than it truly has the right to be after the ordeal Arthur's been through.
He still doesn't know how it happens, or when it started, but the warlock can sense Arthur's movements without needing to see him. He knows that the prince has slowed down but the sword is still held firm in his hand.
But the time for reflection is not now. Arthur has vanished from view and the sounds of battle are echoing through the halls. The clash of steel upon steel is mingling with the cries of the warriors Merlin has no doubt are forcing their way to their location.
He's already at the return of the corridor before he realises there are too many battle cries, too many footsteps and too many voices, all vying for position at the top of the vocal concert playing out just out of his view. And that's when he realises there really is a battle going on and if he concentrates really hard he can make out words, shouted incoherently but somehow understandable to the warlock.
"Sire!"
"My lord!"
"Arthur!"
As Merlin skids round the corner the sight that greets him is almost expected. He and Arthur are no longer alone.
The Knights of Camelot are here.
They're here and they're angry. Arthur was right in one respect Merlin realises. Uther hasn't sent an army of thousands. He's sent, if this is his doing, an elite group of Camelot's finest. Arthur's finest. In the melee before him Merlin can clearly make out the curls that gild Sir Leon's head, Sir Gwaine's stubble adorned jaw line, the impressive stature of Sir Percival and in the shadows, the understated yet ever strong presence of Sir Elyan.
Merlin hides a smile as the forces of Escetia struggle with a blend of incompetence and arrogance. They flail and wave their swords as though they're birds who haven't realised their wings are clipped. It's almost as if they can't believe they're being bested by such a small contingency and that, Merlin knows, will be their downfall.
But he can hear reinforcements thundering through the castle and his attention is focussed once more on Arthur. The Prince is showing a remarkable tenacity and his grip on the sword is firm, determined. Merlin doubts any of their friends have any idea of the real state of Arthur's mind and body at the moment. Camelot's heir is putting on a formidable show of strength and somewhere in the back of his mind Merlin is incredibly proud of the man Arthur is becoming.
Gwaine is moving towards Arthur now, sword held menacingly in front of him and his free hand reaching for the Prince. Merlin wonders what the knight can see that he can't. Arthur has his back to the warlock but he can make out the expression on Gwaine's face and it's not a reassuring one. Different scenarios are racing through Merlin's mind, each one worse than the one before. He accepts that maybe Arthur's façade is crumbling, maybe the display of courage and strength is waning.
There is little time for any of them to think. Elyan and Percy are fighting with a grace and agility that Merlin has become accustomed to and he thinks he can safely leave them to their own devices. He'll keep an eye on them but his priority, his calling, is Arthur.
Gwaine has reached the Prince and his hand is on his arm. Merlin watches, fascinated, as Arthur turns his head toward his loyal friends. It's almost as though he hadn't realized they were there, Merlin muses. The way his head jerks round, the instant his body relaxes ever so slightly, surprise and relief flooding his face for all to see. Merlin can see Gwaine's lips moving, his head motioning to the other knights, concern flitting across his brow so briefly Merlin doubts anyone else has seen it.
The sound of Escetia's reinforcements crescendos through the corridors and Merlin can't help himself. He breaks cover, running as fast as he can towards the Camelot posse.
"Arthur!" he shouts, heedless of the massing forces of their opponents. "Gwaine! They're coming!"
Belatedly it dawns on him that he's just given away his own position. Yes, the knights knew he was there – where Arthur is, Merlin is. It's a bit of a joke at Camelot. Good natured and gentle, but a joke nevertheless. But Cenred's army? They probably thought that the Prince's humble manservant was still ensconced in his ivory tower. Any minute now, Merlin muses, the King will discover how he's been played by the warlock. And he really can't bring himself to care.
Arthur's head spins round in his direction in almost perfect unison with Gwaine's. Sir Leon appears by his side as if by magic, which makes Merlin smile.
"You took your time," the magician remarks wryly to the knights, dodging a flying piece of masonry with effortless ease. "Shall we get out of here now?"
Leon smiles back at Merlin and nods his head, wielding his sword above his head, deflecting more chips of the castle's fabric which are flying around now with free abandon. "I couldn't have put it better myself," he agrees.
"This way." Elyan's voice cuts through the noise of battle and, as one, the knights of Camelot turn to see what he's spotted. All except one.
Arthur's gaze is fixed firmly on his manservant as though he's never seen him before. He steps hesitantly forward, shaking Gwaine's hand off his arm as he moves.
"What are you doing here?" he hisses at Merlin who takes an involuntary step backwards, propelled by the venom in his Prince's voice.
"What?" Merlin doesn't know where this new tone of voice has come from, or the surge of strength that seems to be sweeping through Arthur. He racks his brain to see if he can find an answer or even a suggestion as to this attitude leeching from the Prince.
"You. Betrayed. Me." Arthur steps forward again and all the pieces fall into place. Ignoring the startled looks from the surrounding knights, Merlin dips his head in a show of deference to his Lord.
"I didn't," he offers, "and this isn't the time or place to have this discussion."
"He's right," Leon interjects, grabbing Merlin's arm and pulling him in Elyan's direction. "Whatever this is, can wait."
"Nevertheless," Arthur remains firm, "you betrayed me, Merlin."
"Arthur," Gwaine hisses. "There's no time for this. Cenred's coming."
Arthur's eyes never leave Merlin's face and Merlin feels himself colouring beneath the stare. He knows what's happened. His apparent switch of allegiance has somehow made itself known to Arthur and the Prince's faith in him has been shattered into a thousand pieces.
"It's not like that," Merlin whispers, but Arthur has already turned from him and is striding to the corridor that Elyan has indicated is clear. He watches Arthur's receding figure, oblivious to Leon pulling him after the knights. He feels numb, cut to the quick even though he always knew this was a risk he had to take.
He lets Leon lead him down the passageway Elyan has found, ears alert, eyes peeled, mind dulled by Arthur's hatred for him. His feet move as though by themselves and just as they round a corner, he feels more than sees the first arrow fly over his shoulder, embedding itself in the wall ahead of him.
There are more cries from Escetia's army, cries that are more than matched by the knights of Camelot as they turn, as one, and face their enemy once again.
"Tell me there are more of you outside," Merlin murmurs to Leon as he's pushed aside by the warrior.
"Sorry, Merlin," Leon grimaces. "We're it. Uther wouldn't…" and he trails off leaving Merlin to complete that conversation by himself.
"Ah well," the warlock concedes, "it was just a thought.
Leon throws a comradely grin at the manservant as he hefts his sword and flies back into battle but Merlin can see the uncertainty behind the camaraderie and the reservation behind his words. With three little words Arthur has sown the seed of doubt in the minds of all the knights of Camelot.
Shaking these thoughts from his mind the warlock finds himself an alcove to conceal himself in, one where he can see Camelot's finest but also where he can see what Escetia intends to throw at them. He casts a glance at Arthur but other than a certain pallor in his face and a slight redness round his eyes, the Prince looks to be at his fittest. Merlin knows for a fact this isn't so, but if he can fool Gwaine and Leon, he can certainly fool Cenred.
Who, at this very moment, just so happens to be charging round the corner with the look of one possessed.