No. 21—Famous Last Words
Coughing Up Blood | "You're safe now." | "Take me instead."
"I'll check the dungeons for the king," Gwaine said.
"Right," Leon said.
Gwaine hefted his swords and thundered down the dungeon stairs, keys he had liberated from a recent attacker in his hands. Arthur and Merlin had gone on a hunting trip together a few weeks ago, and Merlin had come back alone with a nasty head wound. They had had trouble tracking Arthur down, but finally had found the group of Saxons and sorcerers that had abducted him in a previously abandoned castle.
The dungeon was dark and drippy, so Gwaine lit a torch and continued on, forced to sheath his sword in order to keep the keys out. The Saxons had fled, leaving the dungeons empty except for one lone crumpled figure in a nearby cell.
"Arthur?" Gwaine unlocked the cell and swung the door open. The man in the cell was blond, but skinnier than Arthur normally was, which could be due to starvation—if the Saxons had refused to feed him the entire time they had had him. He wore a shirt that used to be white but was streaked with dirt and blood.
Gwaine propped the torch up with the bars and knelt near the prone figure. "Arthur, is that you?"
The figure shuddered. "I don't know who Emrys is and I won't tell you anything about how to take Camelot." It was Arthur, but his voice was ragged and rasped.
Gwaine laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur, it's me. I'm not going to question you."
"Gwaine?" Arthur's voice broke. He peeked up, his eyes bloodshot and hollow. "Is it…really you this time?"
Gwaine nodded. "We've come to break you out. It's time to go."
Arthur shook his head. "I can't…can't stand up." He flinched. "I know it's not you. This'll just end up like it always does. I'm not telling you anything to help us sneak back into Camelot unnoticed."
"No, I…" Gwaine trailed off. How was he to help Arthur when Arthur didn't even believe he was real? What had those b-ds done to his king? "When I first met you, you were pretending to be a commoner. I got stabbed for you."
Arthur wilted. He coughed into his blood-spattered sleeve. "I need help…sitting up."
"All right." Gwaine kept his voice steady, but his heart slammed against his chest. He slid a hand under Arthur's chest and pushed him up. He kept a firm hand on his shoulder.
Arthur's face was streaked with blood and covered in bruises. His shirt had holes that showed nasty burns, deep cuts, and multicolored bruises. Purple streaks spread from some of his cuts. Poison, most likely. Not a good sign at all. Minute trembles shook Arthur and he couldn't look Gwaine in the eyes.
"Hey," Gwaine said. "You're safe now."
Arthur nodded. "Thank…you…for coming."
Gwaine swallowed several replies. It's my duty, how could I not come for you, what kind of friend would I be if I just let you be taken? He shook his head. "Don't think about it."
Arthur coughed hard. Blood spewed onto his sleeve, staining his lips.
Gwaine winced. "We need to get you to Merlin. You look terrible." If Arthur died on the way to Camelot, or once they got there, Merlin would never forgive himself. For some odd reason, he blamed himself for not paying attention and getting whacked really hard on the head. It wasn't Merlin's fault Arthur got taken, but he blamed himself like he was Arthur's bodyguard, not his servant.
Arthur snorted. "That's what happens when you've been tortured for over three weeks."
"Come on, I'll get you out of here." Gwaine slid one arm under Arthur's knees and wrapped the other one around his back. "Don't expect this to happen every day." He lifted Arthur up. He was far lighter than he should be. The Saxons and sorcerers must not have fed him at all.
"I won't…tell you anything," Arthur breathed, resting his head on Gwaine's chest.
Gwaine's heart squeezed. "You don't have to." He started up the stairs. "Don't worry. There's nothing I need to know."