Coming Home
The boy was heading for Camelot as fast as he could go, the hooves of his borrowed horse thundering against the packed dirt of the road. He kept his hood up and his head down. People on the road called after him, asking for news, wondering at his haste, shouting angrily when he nearly ran them down. He couldn't slow down. He couldn't be late. He needed to get to the city.
In the citadel his brother sat waiting. He stared at the tattered cloth in his hands, running his fingers over it. He glanced at the sun and then looked down. He had a few minutes still. A few minutes to hope and pray that the searches were successful. The last party would come at noon. If they had not found him them he had to stop the search and bury his brother.
A guard on the wall saw the rider coming in. He saw the horse and there was no mistaking it. Only one horse he had ever seen could run like that. Only two riders had ever controlled it. One of those riders was about to make a great sacrifice for his kingdom. The other was the only thing to prevent that.
A messenger came running into the king's chambers, breathless from running all the way from the outer walls to the palace.
"Sire," he panted, "he's here. He was just seen headed towards the main gate."
In an instant the monarch had left the room.
Two horsemen rode through the lower town, abandoning their mounts when they caught sight of each other. One running into the open arms of the other. The older held the younger close, crying silently. The younger clung desperately, out of breath, exhausted, and sobbing, hiding his face in his brother's shoulder. The older gently pushed back his brother's hood. He hid his face in his brother's dark hair and moved his hand to press his brother's face against his shoulder and card the raven colored locks.
"I can't believe you're all right," the older murmured, "we thought you were dead."
"I was sure I wasn't going to make it back," the younger said, voice muffled by his brother's shoulder. The older held his brother tighter.
"You're home now," he said, "you're home now."
"I know," the younger said, relaxing into his brother's embrace. The older shifted his grip so he could lift his brother into his arms, cradling him gently.
"Rest now," he ordered, "I've got you, Merlin."
Merlin nodded sleepily, snuggling closer to the older man. The king smiled down at his servant and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"Thank you, Arthur," the younger boy murmured. Arthur didn't answer but instead just started walking back to the citadel. He knew exactly what Merlin was telling him and he knew his brother understood his reply. They were both home now.
Author's Note
I don't really know where this little piece came from. If I get any ideas I'll give it a companion piece or two but for now the circumstances surrounding this event are left to the imagination. I hope this wasn't completely dreadful. Feedback is always welcome.