Chapter 13 - Valiant

People were acting weird.

First, there was Morgana. And, to be fair, Morgana had been acting weird for several weeks before anyone else had been. She was sad and avoiding everyone - which was (again) weird, because Morgana was the most confrontational person Arthur had ever met - until a few days before when she decided to sit next to him at dinner and call him an idiot. That part was kind of normal in all honesty, but then her behaviour became a different sort of weird. She was being nice.

Morgana.

Morgana was being nice. To Arthur.

Frankly, that made him almost as concerned as the crying and avoiding had.

And it wasn't even a fake kind of nice. She wasn't suddenly complimenting him, nor had she stopped teasing him - or him her. But there were small things, like her always saving him his favourite breakfast when she arrived at the Great Hall before him. She started sitting next to him in their shared classes (even though she seemed really uncomfortable around Gwen and Leon). She started dragging him to the library so they could do their homework together.

And if that wasn't disturbing enough, she had even gifted Arthur a new sketchbook. He wasn't sure how to take this blatelent approval for his hobby. He had always expected her to make fun of him for it. Drawing and colouring was kind of 'girly', and it was the sort of thing that the Morgana he knew would have relentlessly mocked him for. And that was setting aside the fact that he had potentially predicted the existence of their DADA Professor through drawing - and her distrust if Nimueh hadn't lessened one bit, so was she encouraging him to use his talents to warn them, or was it just a nice gesture? He would have scoffed at the thought a few months ago, but these days, who knew?

And really, all of that would have been fine if Morgana was the only one acting like that. Arthur would have dismissed it entirely, but then there was Merlin.

He was acting . . . shifty. And Arthur didn't use that word lightly. He was just so jumpy and tense these days. And not like how he used to be. He wasn't flinching at unexpected contact, or when someone stood a little too close to him. No, he was tensing whenever someone got a little too close to Arthur. Which was just . . . bizarre!

Morgan kept staring at him like he was an idiot every time he did, so Arthur at least felt validated that he wasn't the only one who thought it was ridiculous. But the idiot was glaring at everyone suspiciously like he suspected them of plotting to murder his cat . . . y'know, if that cat was Arthur.

. . . Nevermind. Bad comparison.

The point was, Merlin was putting himself in between Arthur and every Slytherin that wasn't Morgana and Mithian as if it was normal. Which it wasn't. And then there was bloody Gwaine, enabling him, going on about how they had to protect their precious 'Princess', and if he called him that one more time, Arthur was going to punch him. Which wasn't against school rules - Arthur had checked - you couldn't duel in the corridors, but there was no rule against a good, old-fashioned fist-fight.

And alright, technically, that behaviour couldn't be classed as weird as far as Gwaine was concerned, because he was always an annoying prick. But the rest of it definitely could.

And Arthur was content to ignore it. Whatever, his friends were weird, who cared? Not him. But then Merlin tried to get him to drop out of the Quidditch match.

"That's hilarious, Merlin, really," he scoffed.

"I'm being serious," his friend told him. "You need to drop out of the match."

"And why would I do that?" he asked indulgently.

"You're going to be in danger if you play," Merlin said seriously, his face almost caught in a glare with how intensely he was trying to stare Arthur down. Arthur fought hard not to laugh; he looked like an angry kitten.

"It's just Qudditch, Merlin, not a fight to the death," he said with an eye-roll. "I know you're worried after Harry broke his arm practising with the Weasley twins -"

"It's got nothing to do with that," Merlin interrupted, before pausing for a moment. He squinted at Arthur for a second, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side - he really did resemble a kitten - "Alright, maybe it has a little to do with that," he conceded. "But it wasn't my main point."

"Then what was?" For some reason, the question seemed to freeze him. Arthur wasn't sure if it was because he didn't think his explanation would make it this far, or because he needed to think up some other reason on the spot.

"Someone's planning on sabotaging you," he mumbled.

And Arthur couldn't help it, he laughed.

"This is not funny!" Merlin said grumpily, hitting him on the arm with a textbook.

"Sorry," Arthur said, still laughing. "But you sound ridiculous. It's a school sports team, Merlin, we're not in the olympics. And why would someone sabotage a second-year anyway? Why wouldn't they go for Charlie Weasley? He's the Captain, and the seeker - everyone knows that's the most important player on the team. Why would they bother with someone being put on from the reserve team at all? If anything, that means they're more likely to underestimate me," he said confidently, because really, it was insane.

Who on the Slytherin Team would give a damn about someone about to play their first proper game of Quidditch. They weren't going to see him as a threat. They were going to be wrong - of course - but they weren't going to think much of him yet.

"Maybe it's just because your head's so big it makes the most obvious target," Merlin muttered, making Arthur roll his eyes again.

"Stop being so dramatic, Merlin," he dismissed

"If you get killed in the match this week, I'm going to enjoy saying 'I told you so'."

Arthur scoffed. "And when I make it out, perfectly fine, I'll enjoy the same."

Arthur wasn't stupid, he knew that this paranoia came from his sister. What he didn't understand was why Merlin was taking it so seriously. So Morgana had had a bad dream? That didn't mean anything was actually going to happen to him.

His friend nodded, signalling his acceptance that their argument was over, but there was a determined glint to his eyes that made Arthur certain that Merlin was not going to let this go.

He was of course proved right when not a day later he was being hexed in the corridors by Sytherins he'd never even spoken to before.

Arthur had been warned by the team that the Sytherins were always their biggest competition, and that in the lead up to the first Quidditch match of the year, tensions sometimes bled out of the field and into the halls of Hogwarts. So, when he was being targeted by tripping jinxes and stinging hexes in between classes, he didn't think much of it between trying to dodge what he could and practising Professor Nimueh's shield charm over and over to little success. It wasn't until some random fourth-year sneered between hexes, "Looks like this cowardice is the new Gryffindor trait, trying to accuse our players of cheating without proof - running to hide behind McGonagall's robes like a scaredy cat. Some lion you are, Pendragon," that Arthur realised what Merlin had done.

And well, apparently a burning anger was all Arthur needed to finally get his shield charm to work. He channelled the low level rage burning through him straight towards his magic and right into his shield, watching with grim satisfaction as the fourth-year stumbled back, surprised.

"I don't care what you've heard," he said furiously. "I am not a coward, and I haven't accused anyone of anything." And even despite the sting of betrayal he would not tell these idiots who had really accused their house of cheating. He would not send them after Merlin.

"Whatever, Pendragon," the Snake spat, shoving past him now that his spells were no longer effective. Arthur planted his feet and did not allow the boy to knock him aside - Arthur's pride was bigger than the extra inches the older boy had on him - and it was enough for him to hold his ground, even if he rocked slightly in place.

With a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, he stormed towards the castle basement.

He had barely knocked on the door before some upper year opened it and turned around to shout, "Oi, Emrys! Your Gryffindor is here!"

He tried not to let the words affect him. He certainly didn't feel like 'Merlin's Gryffindor' right now. He didn't feel like Merlin's anything.

"Arthur?" Merlin greeted happily, with a confused, idiotic smile on his face.

"How could you?" he bit out, hating that hurt had bled into the anger he had wanted to project. "I told you to leave it be Merlin! Why did you go behind my back to McGonagall?!"

He ignored the wide blue eyes staring back at him. He ignored the flinch away from him when he started shouting. He ignored the way Merlin seemed to curl in on himself before clenching his jaw and staring right back at Arthur defiantly.

"I told you you were in danger. Just because you refused to take me seriously, doesn't mean that I was wrong," he insisted.

He wasn't even sorry, Arthur realised jarringly. He had been humiliated and targeted because of what Merlin had done, and he wasn't even sorry. "People think I'm a coward!" he shouted, because he couldn't bring himself to ask 'do you even care that they were attacking me in the hallways?' he was worried about what the answer would be.

It was easier to focus on the other part, anyway. Father would be furious if he found out people thought so little of his son. Arthur's actions were a reflection on his own. And people here already hated him for being a muggleborn. They already hated his father for being the muggle Prime Minister. What if now they started saying that he was probably a coward like his son.

He would be so disappointed in Arthur if he found out.

"Better to be a living coward than a fearless corpse!"

"I shouldn't be surprised to hear that from a Hufflepuff," he said derisively, watching smugly as the ire rose in Merlin's eyes. See, he thought, triumphantly, it isn't nice to be thought of as a coward, is it?

"Oh yes," Merlin spat, "Because it's alright if you die for the sake of a Quidditch match! Is that a noble enough death for a mighty Gryffindor such as yourself? As long as you go out in a blaze of glory, right?" he threw his arms up in frustration. "God forbid you show some common sense and not throw yourself into pointless danger."

"Common sense?" Arthur repeated incredulously - the nerve of him! "All of this is based on a nightmare my crazy sister had! Where is the common sense in that? There's not a single good reason to believe I was going to be in danger. Now everyone just thinks I'm just some pathetic idiot who can't think for himself, when I'm not - you are."

Arthur bit back the urge to take it all back. Just because his words came out harsher than he intended, it didn't change the facts. He was in the right here, not Merlin. Merlin had been the one to betray him, not the other way around.

He clung to that conviction as he watched Merlin's face shutter.

"Right," he said bitterly, his voice suddenly cold, and devoid of all the passion that had been driving their argument. "So Morgana's 'crazy' and I'm a 'pathetic idiot who can't think for himself'. Anything else to add? Any more friends you feel like slagging off? You want to insult anymore people who are just trying to look out for you?"

Arthur scoffed, pushing past any guilt. "If this is how you look out for people, then I want no part in it."

But Merlin still didn't apologise. He simply nodded, his eyes hard. "That's fine. You won't have to worry about that again." He didn't give Arthur the chance to respond before turning around and slamming the common room door behind him.

And that was fine.

Arthur didn't care.

Arthur didn't care that Merlin never said sorry. Arthur didn't care that he had walked away. Arthur didn't care that his best friend had just slammed the door closed on him - on their friendship.

It was fine.

Arthur had more important things to worry about. He had a game tomorrow. There were people counting on him to do well, to perform.

This was - this was fine.

It had to be.

Quidditch was amazing.

Harry could feel the anticipation in the school rising all week as they got closer and closer to the first match of the year. Being caught up in that rising excitement made him feel like an actual part of the school for the first time. It didn't matter that he was younger than everybody, or that he had no shared classes - or even a common room - with anyone. All that mattered was that he was just as excited for the first match of the year as everyone else.

Even Aunt Minnie was affected by it, she was happier in the mornings, more snarky with Professor Snape, more lenient with her Gryffindors. She had even bought him a Gryffindor scarf so he could support his friends' team - no one had ever bought something for him before just because. Harry hadn't known what to say. Even if the twins weren't allowed to play this game, it still meant a lot that Aunt Minnie had gone out of her way for him. He had asked Mithian if she minded him cheering against the Slytherin team, but she had assured him that she didn't mind, and that she would be cheering for Arthur in his first Quidditch match anyway.

Harry had expected that same level of enthusiasm from the rest of his brother's friends too. Arthur making the team as a second-year was a big deal, even if he was only on as a reserve. Harry knew that he had Gwaine liked to provoke each other, but he was certain that Gwaine was happy for him too.

Or at least he had been until he saw Merlin and Gwaine give Arthur the cold shoulder at breakfast the morning of the game.

Harry froze, looking between the two tables. He hadn't expected that he would have to choose. He wanted to sit with the Gryfindors, he wanted to support Fred and George and their brother Charlie (even if the twins weren't playing today), and he had expected Merlin and the others to rally around Arthur to the same end. But what could have happened so that Merlin wasn't sitting there and Gwaine was glaring at the back of Arthur's head as if he could explode it with his eyes?

Quickly coming to a decision, Harry threw an apologetic glance in Fred and George's direction before falling into the empty space next to his brother.

"How much do you need me to hate him?" he asked immediately, making Gwaine snort and bringing a sad smile to his brother's face.

"You don't need to hate anyone," Merlin said placatingly.

"Ignore him, Potter. We hate Pendragon now, he's a pompous arse," Gwaine said bitterly, quick to talk over his friend.

"Right," Harry said awkwardly. "I'm totally still on board with hating him . . . but is that any different than how you would have described him yesterday?"

"Good point," Gwaine said approvingly. "Pendragon has always been an arse, I don't know why we were ever friends with him."

"Enough," Merlin admonished, looking hurt by the turn the conversation had taken. "Arthur's a prat," he conceded. "But he's going to get his head out of his arse and apologise, I know he is."

Harry turned around to look at the Gryffindor table. "I'm not sure he will," he said gently. After all, Arthur certainly didn't look sorry. He was talking and laughing with Leon as if there was nothing wrong. There was a confident smile on his face, as if he didn't have a single worry in the world.

Turning back around to see his brother's pained expression and tense shoulders, Harry found it rather easy to hate Arthur Pendragon. "Right. Well, fuck him," Harry said boldly.

"Harry!" Merlin scolded, while Gwaine shot pumpkin juice through his nose.

"No, no! Potter's right!" Gwaine agreed enthusiastically. "Who cares about that tosser?"

"Not us," Harry responded quickly, snatching the red and gold scarf from around his neck. It made a part of him sad, to set aside Aunt Minnie's gift so carelessly, but Merlin was more important. Harry was sure she would understand. "And not you," he pressed.

Merlin had already done far too much tolerating of people who hurt him in his life, and Harry would never suggest that he continue to do the same. Harry didn't know what Arthur Pendragon had done to hurt his brother, but it didn't matter. Merlin was clearly upset, and his so-called friend didn't seem to care one whit. That was enough for Harry to know that Pendragon was in his bad books. You weren't supposed to treat friends like that.

"We can skip the game if you want," Harry offered regrettably. He had been so looking forward to seeing today's match, but if this was what Merlin needed then so be it. His brother had made countless sacrifices for him - much worse ones than just missing out on a game of Quidditch - so now it was Harry's turn.

But instead Merlin just shook his head stubbornly. "No. I know I'm right about this. I have a bad feeling about this game, and if Arthur's in danger then I have to be there."

"Mate," Gwaine said, uncharacteristically hesitant. "I know I was playing along with the whole thing to piss off the Princess, but if something actually goes wrong, all of the Professors are going to be there to sort it out. You don't have to do anything."

"No," he disagreed. "Morgana told me for a reason. I didn't think too much about it at first, but I know she was right. I think something terrible is going to happen and I think I need to be the one to stop it."

"Why?" Merlin looked at him curiously. "I mean, why you?" Harry elaborated.

"Just a funny feeling, I suppose."

Merlin was tense.

He was tense from yesterday's argument. He was tense from a night of terrible sleep. He was tense from having to explain himself to Harry and Gwaine. And he was tense from wondering what was about to unfold.

They were all clamouring up into the Quidditch stands, and the higher they went, the more the pit of dread in Merlin's stomach deepened. He hadn't cared enough to attend any of the Quidditch games last year, he hadn't realised just how high up they were really played. He hadn't known just how far there was to fall before you hit the ground.

Harry's barely restrained excitement softened his nerves ever so slightly. It was nice, seeing his brother so enthusiastic for something like a sports game. It was so wonderfully normal, that it was almost enough for him to forget that one of his best friends was about to be in danger.

Morgana had warned him about Valiant specifically. So now Merlin just needed to decide whether it was smarter to keep his eyes on Arthur throughout the game, or on Arthur's supposed attacker.

But the decision was made for him when a familiar figure slipped into the stands next to him, squeezing in between him and Gwaine. "You watch Valiant," she instructed, nodding decisively. "And I'll watch Arthur."

Merlin looked away when faced with her determined green eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't get him to drop out," he said ashamedly. Morgana had trusted him to convince her brother, and Merlin had failed her.

"That was always a long shot," she told him, smiling wanly. "Arthur's never backed down from anything in his life. I thought if anyone could convince him, it would be you. But I wasn't expecting a miracle, Merlin." She reached out to squeeze his hand. "Just make sure you save him now, okay?"

"Why me?" he asked, before he lost his nerve. "You . . . you don't seem like the type to rely on anyone for anything." He thought of her weeks of silent suffering, where Arthur still didn't know what had upset her, even now. Morgana Le Fay, was not the type of person to ask for help. So why had she?

She looked at him assessingly. "Why do you think?" It wasn't sarcastic or rhetorical, it was a genuine question.

Merlin thought back to their earlier interaction - Morgana approaching him on the edge of a breakdown, terrified for her brother's life, desperate for someone to just listen to her. "Because you knew I'd take you seriously," he realised. "You didn't have any proof, but you still knew I'd take you seriously, that I'd do whatever I could to help."

She didn't confirm or deny his suspicion. Instead she said, "My father told me what you did this summer, you know? Threatening the school board, risking expulsion, almost destroying the castle - again," she smirked. "Just to keep your brother safe. You're ruthless when it comes to protecting what's yours. And Arthur is yours, whether either of you realise it or not. I know you'll do whatever it takes to keep my brother safe, the same as you do yours."

Merlin had no idea what to say to any of that. He was entirely unsure whether he had just been complimented or not. Of all the words to describe himself ruthless had never been one of them. But he couldn't say that he disagreed with her assessment. He would do anything to protect Harry. And he was starting to realise that Arthur fell under that same protection. He felt like he would be ready to raze Hogwarts to the ground for the sake of his friend. Even after their argument. Even after the horrible things Arthur had said, Merlin was still willing to tear the world apart to protect him.

It was a . . . disconcerting thought.

Morgana smiled, "You would have made a very good Slytherin, Merlin."

He was saved from having to respond by the blow of a whistle. But the relief was short-lived on the back of the realisation that the game was beginning, and with it, the countdown to disaster had begun. He felt Morgana tense up beside him, and wished he could simply enjoy the sight of Harry's delighted expression instead of joining her in his anxiety.

It was hard to discern which player was which as far away as they were, but it became easier as they fell into their positions. Valiant was playing as a beater, so Merlin had narrowed down which green figure was him to two options. One of the people holding a bat was slightly smaller than the other, so Merlin assumed that that was his fellow second-year, but he made sure to dart glances at the other just in case he was wrong.

But when the beater swung his bat just as the commentator announced, "And there goes a bludger from Valiant Black, right towards Charlie Weasley as he makes a dive for the snitch! OH! But it looks like it was just a feint, folks!" Merlin knew he had the right person.

After that, it was a waiting game. Merlin tensed every time Valiant's flight-path passed by Arthur, every time he batted the bludger in Arthur's general direction, and especially whenever Arthur moved into its path to intercept it. Merlin knew that that was his job as the opposing teams' beater, to stop the ball from hitting any of the point-scoring players, but it didn't mean that Merlin had to like it. In fact, Merlin was fairly sure that he would hate it even without knowing that there was an imminent threat to Arthur's life. It seemed like it would be far too easy to have a deadly accident, which meant it would be even easier for someone to plan such an incident.

But finally, it happened.

Merlin hadn't been paying attention to the score, but he would later learn that Gryffindor were up by 30 points. Valiant had aimed a bludger right towards one of the Gryffindor chasers that Merlin didn't care enough about to learn the name of, and Arthur had shot upwards in order to deflect it in time. He shouldn't have. Merlin could see that the chaser was rolling out of the way on their own, he hadn't even needed to interfere - that idiot.

But even still, it should have been fine. Merlin's job was to focus on Valiant, but he couldn't help his eyes drifting to Arthur every now and then. And if anything, Arthur had proven that he wasn't to be underestimated throughout the game (it made Merlin wonder how good the Weasley twins really were if they were somehow both better than Arthur at this), even as only a second-year. He was quick and agile, he had a strong batting arm and excellent aim. So when he went for that bludger, it should have been a simple thing to just direct back at the Slytherin team.

And yet it wasn't.

Because Merlin had been so focused on Arthur he had completely missed Valiant pulling out his wand. It was his fault, entirely, what ended up happening. If only he'd been more diligent he could have just disarmed Valiant from the beginning. He could have stopped it before it was too late. Before someone died.

But then suddenly the bat in Arthur's hand wasn't a bat, it was a snake.

He tried to shake it off his arm without losing his place on his broom, but he looked horrifically close to toppling off the side of it in his attempt to avoid being bitten.

"Do something!" Morgana hissed in his ear, and Merlin found himself vanishing the snake without a second thought. There was no spell or direction to his action, just the intention to get the snake away from Arthur!

And it did.

The serpent went flying through the air away from him, and it was almost as if the entire stadium breathed a sigh of relief. But they had all forgotten something crucial. Arthur had placed himself in the path of a bludger, and he no longer had a bat to fend it off.

The ball socked him right in the chest, throwing him from his broom and suddenly he was falling through the air.

"Arthur!" Morgana screamed from beside him, rushing to the edge of the stands, looking as if she were ready to jump over herself if it would help him in any way.

The weight of the crowd all surging forwards pushed Merlin in the same direction, but he was frozen in panic. People were clamouring and shouting, and it was too loud and they were too close and Merlin couldn't breathe.

Arthur was going to die because Merlin was too busy having a fucking panic attack to be useful.

"Merlin!" Someone was shouting. Probably Harry or Morgana. Because Harry was probably worried about him and Morgana was worried about Arthur. Because Arthur was about to crash from a 100 metre drop and probably die.

He just needed a second. He second to breathe. A second to pause so that he could think. A second so he could pull himself together and save his friend. He just needed everything to pause.

. . .

And then everything was silent.

His head shot up at the sudden absence of sound. He knew that when he panicked he sometimes struggled to hear anything other than the sound of his own heart beating loudly in his ears, but this was something else. He turned to look left and right but everything - everyone - had frozen.

He pushed his way to the front of the stands, the absurdity having snapped him out of being trapped inside his own head, to see Arthur hovering in midair. He was only a few metres away from the ground. If it had taken Merlin a moment longer to react, he might have been too late.

And he had time now, but he still didn't know what to do.

What if he still couldn't find a way to save Arthur? Or what if he could, but he couldn't figure out how to unpause everyone?

Okay, no. Stop. He couldn't afford to spiral about something else and accidentally trigger more powerful magic that he didn't know how to control.

He just needed to stop Arthur from falling, but unfreeze everyone else so that the adults could use their magic to get him down. Except that he knew his magic was stronger than theirs - they wouldn't be able to overpower his spell and Arthur would just be stuck there.

So he needed to figure out how to get everything to move again, but have something in place to catch Arthur or at least gentle his landing. Did Merlin have enough time to go and get a mattress from one of the dorms? What if he got distracted and accidentally let go of his hold and Arthur just kept falling while Merlin was busy trying to drag a mattress through the corridors?

What the hell was he supposed to do?

"Oh Merlin," a gentle voice sighed from behind him. "What have you done now?"