"Run Merlin!"

Arthur's command was barely audible over the din of swords and the blood rushing in his ears. Camelot's knights were holding their own against the Knights of Medhir but even Merlin could tell they were not going to emerge victorious. These mysterious Knights were skilled soldiers that were, oh yes – apparently impossible to kill.

Merlin hovered behind Arthur as the prince thrust his sword through the stomach of the nearest Knight. It sliced clean through, the blade delivering a usually fatal blow. Usually. Although it didn't quite take this time. The Knight faltered, pausing as Arthur removed the sword in a fluid and practiced motion, then proceeded to stand as if he had been dealt no more than a paper cut.

Merlin was knocked out of his shocked reverie as Arthur grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pushed him towards the door.

"Will you do as I say!"

Arthur barely gave him a second glance to check he was listening before he was thrown right back into the fray, sword striking sword as the Knight forced him backwards. Camelot's other brave warriors were not faring much better against their immortal adversaries, forcing blow after blow to no success. There was no way to win this fight, especially not enclosed in a small space. They needed to get out and save themselves.

Merlin's shoulder knocked against the wall, feet stumbling over themselves in his need to watch Arthur's back while also getting out of the way. He could tell that Arthur was flagging. Each strike was filled with less strength than the last as the Knight held the upper hand. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Merlin had to do something.

He waited until Arthur was as close to the exit as possible before whispering an incantation under his breath. His eyes glowed gold seconds before a low rumbling filled the room. The castle was old, it didn't take more than a slight push of magic for the ceiling to crumble in around them.

He watched Arthur's head shoot up, his fight momentarily paused in a moment of distraction to find out what was happening. Eyes wide, Arthur realised just in time to jump through the doorway before a large plank of wood near crushed him, finding the Knight of Medhir as its victim instead.

It was only as the spot right above him gave an ominous creak did Merlin realise just how much he'd misjudged his own distance from the exit.

There was nothing like a conveniently timed ceiling collapse to get Arthur's heart racing. The echo of rubble crashing to the floor chased him outside into the safety of the forest. He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving after the fight. When they had travelled to Idirsholas, he had expected to find the long-deserted ruins of a once stronghold of a castle. Unkillable, ancient Knights were not on his list of expectations.

He glanced over his shoulder at the castle, running the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat. The cloud of dust that had followed him from the throne room had settled and there was no sign of any of the Knights pursuing him out into the daylight.

He frowned, heart sinking as he realised that no knights of Camelot had followed him either. Brave men who had left their families that morning expecting to return unscathed from a simple mission. He had to go back for them! That collapse may have dealt their final blows, but he didn't know for sure. It was his duty to help his injured men and bring them all home.

Okay. The plan was decided. Get in, check for his knights, avoid any unwanted company, get out.

"Merlin, get the horses ready." He called behind him, searching between the trees for his servant, adding with an afterthought: "and stay out here!"

There was no sign of him but with any luck Merlin was already preparing the animals for their necessarily quick departure. He was obviously further in front than Arthur had thought. At least he had listened to him this time. He was getting extremely fed up with Merlin ignoring his orders. He may not be a knight, but he had to understand that in situations like this, Arthur did know best. And one day Merlin's insubordination was going to get himself killed.

For now though, he was safe and out of Arthur's way, no doubt protesting the prince's stupidity for going back for his men. But there was little his servant would be able to do to stop him.

Arthur pushed his way back up the small slope to the castle before his legs had fully recovered. His muscles ached and he'd barely gotten his breath back, but he wasn't about to let a little thing like that slow him down when his men were in trouble.

The throne room was covered by so much debris, the floor was hardly visible – which was strange because the remainder of the castle appeared to be largely intact. Rocks and beams were piled so high in some places it was hard to know where to start.

He needed to tread carefully. The Knights of Medhir had proven that nothing could kill them, so he doubted it was going to keep them down for long. The question was whether they were still under the rubble or not.

He shifted some of the smaller rocks with his foot and stepped further into the room. The fight had been sheer chaos with all of them getting separated quickly, so he had no real idea of where anyone had fallen.

The heaviness of the beams did not give him hope for the outcome of his search, but he managed to clear them on his own with achy arms and strong legs. The sharp corners of the rocks dug into his palms, and he couldn't contain a groan as some debris took a little more effort to shift than expected.

He could feel himself growing tired, but the sight of a dust covered head of hair gave him a renewed hope. He took a deep breath and bent down low to free the remainder of his knight. Clearing some of the debris revealed it to be Sir Edric that he had found, and clearing more revealed that there was no saving him. Face slack and hair matted with blood, his lack of pulse had Arthur leaning back on his haunches with a weary sigh. The young knight had only joined their ranks a few months ago, full of life and a boyish nature ready to be nurtured. And now…

Picking himself off the dirt covered floor, he pushed Edric's ashen face from his mind and carried on. He would free him entirely once he'd found his other men, in the hopes that they were alive.

Hopes that were quickly dashed as he pulled Sir Radnor's lifeless body from the rubble. The blood staining the front of his chainmail revealed his demise to have come from sword not stone, yet it hurt Arthur all the same. How was it that he always escaped their missions unscathed whilst he was forced to bring so many of his brothers home to be buried.

It wasn't fair that so many of his brave and loyal men should be led to their deaths. Where was their guardian angel watching over them like it always seemed to be watching over Arthur?

Well, Arthur and Merlin, now that he thought about it. How his servant was still alive with the amount of trouble he liked to get into was honestly beyond him.

As Arthur moved another heavy beam with a groan he glanced towards the door, surprised that his servant had yet to make an appearance. It was very unlike Merlin to let Arthur run back into danger without a strongly worded opinion telling him not to. Maybe Merlin had been too far away to hear his orders, or maybe he was being sensible for once.

Or maybe—

Arthur's train of thought slipped away as he spotted another knight emerging from the rubble. A hand rested on the floor, untrapped and reaching out for help, while the remainder of him was concealed from view.

Arthur's heart was in his throat as he carefully made his way over, praying that at least one of his men was still alive.

At the edge of the room, it seemed that the knight had escaped the brunt of the collapse, but there was a fair amount still to clear before Arthur could free him. He moved the rubble encasing his arm first, clearing enough to reveal the sleeve of his jacket— an outfit worn by neither faction of knights.

The lack of chainmail was enough to stop him in his tracks, but the familiar shade of brown was what sent ice through his veins.

This couldn't be real, a trick of the eyes and nothing more because there was no way his idiot of a servant had disobeyed him today of all days. Not when he'd already been forced to pull two dead bodies from the rubble. Not when he had already, secretly, convinced himself that no one else had survived the collapse.

His heart hammered relentlessly against his chest, hands scraping painfully against stone as he desperately cleared away enough to free Merlin's upper body from the wreckage that trapped him. Though the sight that greeted him did little to lighten the weight on his chest.

Dust and dirt coated Merlin's pale face in a thin grey layer, collecting in the corners of his eyes and the grooves of his lips, mixing with blood as it pasted the grime to his skin. Red smeared across his forehead and caked in his hair, the trail of it running past his eyebrows and across his nose made Arthur's stomach flip as he tried to work out where it was coming from.

He peered over his shoulder. The room was still and even the ominous creaking from above had settled, yet he was all too aware that could change at any moment. The first sign of movement, the first immortal hand clawing its way through the wreckage, and he'd have a decision to make.

Turning back to Merlin, he was dismayed to see how much darker his scarf had become, watching the stain grow as it continued to soak up the blood. Head wounds always bled like a stuck pig, but that scrap of medical knowledge didn't make it any easier to behold. He ran gloved fingers along Merlin's hairline and along his scalp, probing gently until his fingers suddenly slid across broken skin.

"There you are." He muttered to himself, grimacing at the sight of it.

Between dealing with the wound and getting the hell out of there before the immortal solders reawakened, there was only one real priority but still he tugged at the tunic trapped beneath his chainmail until a jagged strip of material ripped itself free.

"You're fixing that later." He joked, pushing down the slight pang of something creeping up in his chest when the easy banter wasn't reciprocated.

Taking more care than he had time for, he wrapped the material around Merlin's head, tying it off securely in the hopes that it would slow the bleeding. He smiled to himself as it immediately seemed to do the trick, the material becoming blemished by only a few small dark spots. One task down, two to go.

"Merlin?" Arthur tapped gently at his check. "Come on, I didn't say you could have a nap."

The rubble shifted around him where his knee was leaning uncomfortably against it, but he paid it no mind, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of life from his servant. No amount of gentle shaking would rouse him. It did however pull a soft breathy groan from his lips, and with it, chipped away a tiny piece of the boulder still sitting on Arthur's chest.

"Okay fine." He shrugged to himself with a smile, whispering as he pushed himself to his feet. "Don't listen to me. But just know that I'm thinking of an appropriate punishment as we speak."

So, task two was pending apparently – looks like it was onto task number three. Peering at the debris around them, Arthur realised he had cleared more from Merlin's prone form than he originally thought, his top half released entirely.

"Maybe you can muck out the stables."

He moved towards Merlin's feet, ignoring the sharp pain from the rocks that cut at his ankles as he navigated the debris-strewn path. There was a splintered beam resting atop more crumbling ruins that needed to be moved from Merlin's legs first.

"Except, you're already supposed to muck out the stables, so I can't really make doing your job your punishment."

He lifted the beam awkwardly, stumbling slightly as it revealed itself to be heavier than he expected. He was about to drop it onto the nearby pile of rubble before catching himself and lowering it gently.

"No, I need something that will teach you not to disobey my orders ever again."

Legs bent, arms still aching, he moved piece after piece until Merlin's legs were revealed. Some slightly heavier than others, some so old they practically crumbled in his grip, they were all placed down gently – silently – and out of the way.

"Stop."

With only one piece left to remove, Arthur's head whipped around at the softly whimpered word.

Squinting back at him, brow pulled low, Merlin's glassy – open – eyes were a welcome sight. He glanced around, slowly taking in the collapsed ceiling overhead and coughed weakly, the corners of his lips tilting downwards as the pain seemed to hit him all at once. "Please stop."

"Just one more." Arthur promised, wincing at Merlin's stifled cry as he moved the final chunk. He was less careful in placing this one to the floor in his haste to check on his servant and the rocky crash echoed throughout the otherwise silent room.

"Merlin? Are you okay?" He asked as he returned to his crouched position at Merlin's side.

"Hurts." Merlin swallowed roughly as his eyes scrunched shut, hand lifting clumsily to press against the makeshift bandage.

"Your head?"

"…everywhere."

Arthur sighed, unsurprised by the answer. He carefully guided Merlin's hand back down to side before he could do any more damage, noting silently how Merlin failed to protest the help. It was impossible to tell exactly what damage an entire ceiling could do when dropped onto a man, but he had a feeling it was more than he was equipped to handle at that moment in time.

Okay, new plan. Get Merlin upright, check for other survivors, get out before it's too late.

He ran his eyes down Merlin's figure, cataloguing the best way to go about getting him out. There was no sign of any major injuries poking through his skin and the only blood coating him was the stickiness now drying against his cheek, but that didn't mean this wasn't going to hurt.

Merlin lifted his head from the stone floor with a wince, eyes pinching shut at the fresh wave of pain rolling through his head. Arthur rolled his eyes and was about to admonish him when a shift in the ruins sounded from behind him.

"What was that?" Merlin asked as Arthur peered over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of a gloved hand pushing up through the rubble.

…Right. New, new plan…

"That was our sign to run."

Arthur gripped Merlin's arms and lifted him over his shoulder before he could even realise he was moving. He watched where he was stepping the whole way to the door, finding it harder to move carefully over the haphazard beams with the added weight against his back. His ankle near twisted in his haste to kick aside some larger rocks and had he not been extra aware of the shifting debris still sounding ominously behind him, he may have let Merlin's groans slow him down.

Daylight did little to ease his racing heart.

If one Knight had awoken, the others were sure to be quick on his heels to rise. And as skilled as Arthur was, he would not be able to take them all on alone.

"Put me down."

The dirt shifted beneath his scrambling feet as he made his way into the trees and away from the castle.

"Can't do that."

He could feel Merlin grabbing at his chainmail, fingers no doubt slipping as they failed to gain any purchase against the metal.

"Arthur, put me down."

He thanked their common sense for tying the horses up before entering the castle. It was nice to let them roam free occasionally, but for those moments in life when you were being pursued by a band of hooded immortals, it was handy to know exactly where your way out of the forest was stationed.

The horses were grazing peacefully, heads lifting in anticipation as Arthur approached. The animal nearest to him chuffed happily, moving closer until the rope tied loosely to her halted her movement. She sniffed the air when she noticed that her usual rider was a little worse for wear before turning back to the grass.

Arthur could still feel Merlin trying to clutch at his back as he lowered him to the ground - almost as if his servant didn't trust him not to drop him! He watched as Merlin's feet safely reached the ground and allowed Merlin to use his shoulder to push himself upright.

Maybe the movement was too quick or the pain was too much, but it was a surprise to both of them as Merlin's face paled rapidly, knees buckling from underneath him. He would have dropped to the floor had Arthur's quick reflexes not grabbed his arms and kept him on his feet.

"Woah." Merlin breathed, untangling a hand from Arthur's grasp to press it against his head. He allowed Arthur's remaining grip to keep him vertical while he tried to take a deep breath, fingers rubbing into closed eyes. Arthur chose not to comment on the slight tremble that he could see had taken hold. "I'm fine."

"Sure." Arthur pointedly raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of his comment. Merlin's head had started bleeding again in all the excitement and ordinarily Arthur would sit him right down so that it could be re-bandaged. If only they had the time.

He looked around for any sign of the figures making their way through the foliage. Nothing yet but it was only a matter of minutes, if that. "We have to go. Can you get on the horse."

"Uhh." Merlin stared at him as he slowly processed the question, eyes squinting as he registered the horses that had apparently appeared next to them. "Oh…yeah."

He stumbled the three steps to the horse and gripped onto her saddle with both hands, taking a second to rest his head against the leather. With an assist from Arthur, he made it atop the horse, grunting from the effort as he got himself seated. Semi-confident that Merlin wasn't about to keel over and topple right off the other side, Arthur rushed around the trees freeing the horses from their bonds, eyes repeatedly darting back to the castle to check for their pursuers.

He wasted no time in swiftly mounting his own horse and was about to nudge them all into motion when Merlin spoke up, voice quiet amongst the rustling of the leaves.

"Wait—" He swallowed, struggling to get the words out, "where are the others?"

"They didn't make it." Arthur lied. Pushing down the shame in not checking for the rest of his men. Sir Edric and Sir Radnor were regrettably beyond hope, but there was no guarantee that they had all perished under the collapse. No promises that some weren't still alive right now, condemned to certain death as Arthur rode away safe from harm. If he'd just had more time—

No. He couldn't think about it. Not now. Not yet.

He'd let himself deal with the guilt once they had made it a safe enough distance away.

The ride back was slow. Made slower by Merlin's inability to sit up straight, one arm wrapped around his stomach that had Arthur's own insides twisting in concern. The bandage was no more sodden than when they headed off, but his face was still worryingly pallid.

They were quiet as they rode, though Arthur had a feeling that Merlin's silence was due to the discomfort he was in rather than any real desire to keep his thoughts to himself. Occasionally his head would slowly drop down to his chest before the movement of the horse would jolt him awake again.

As the turrets of Camelot came into view, the unrestrained horses edged forward at a faster pace, eager to get back to the comfort of their stables and some well-earn dinner. As Arthur watched them go, gait swift and saddles empty, he was overcome with an immense wave of guilt. He was already anticipating the conversations that were to come, the sympathies and condolence and crying mothers as he informed them that their sons had not made it home.

Damn him for writing today off as a quick, easy, unnecessary mission. He led his men into that castle half-blind because he didn't have the common sense to believe the stories he had been told. After all the things they had seen, he should have known better.

Who knew what the Knights of Medhir really wanted. Who knew what they still had planned.

There was someone out there powerful enough to perform the kind of magic required to re-animate them and Arthur was brave enough to admit that it would take a whole lot more manpower than a few of Camelot's knights to stop them.

A tiny, muffled cry from next to him tugged him from his thoughts and reminded him of that extra round of guilt that he would also need to swallow down later. Merlin – still sitting, thankfully – was bent low enough now that his forehead was grazing the mane on his mare's neck, reins pulled so loosely he may as well not have been holding them at all. His eyes were pinched shut and if Arthur wasn't certain that it would cause more harm than good, he would have loved nothing more than to speed up for the last leg of the journey. Anything to make sure that he had not condemned Merlin to follow the fate of his knights.

A slow, dragged-out death would still end in darkness eventually.

But no, they'd made it this far, Merlin could hold on a little longer.

…Okay. New plan. Make it back to Camelot. Get Merlin to Gaius. Find his father and gather reinforcements. Hope beyond anything that there were no more surprises in store.