Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arthur watches Merlin stumble onto the training field, dropping various bits and pieces from his overflowing arms as he goes. The servant dumps everything on a table and picks up a sword from amidst the pile.

“There you go, your sword,” Merlin presents merrily and then settles his hands on his hips.

Arthur glares at him silently.

“What?” He frowns back. His eyes flick up and down Arthur’s person. “Oh! Your shield. Right.”

A shield is fished out from beneath everything and handed to Arthur, but Arthur just quirks an eyebrow and purses his lips in response.

“What!? That’s everything!” Merlin protests and then looks around at the rest of the group. “Oh right, helmet…” He turns back to the table, muttering to himself and scratching his head.

Arthur hears the knights chuckling behind him. “Some time before lunch would be nice, Merlin,” he sighs.

Merlin is running off back the way he came and scooping various items off the grass, one of which is Arthur’s helmet. He jogs back and hands it over.

“Well, now that I’m finally ready for training, we can all get a move on with our days, thank you, Merlin.”

“You should try lugging all this around everyday! I’ve only got two arms!”

“Two sticks, more like it. Maybe I need to replace you with someone who is actually capable of carrying a few pieces of equipment. So, anyone, really.”

Merlin opens his mouth to retort, but Arthur walks away, letting the complaining fade into the distance.

“I hear you threaten to fire him at least twice a week,” Elyan laughs as the knights gather around. “And those are just the ones that I’m present for.”

“And yet he never does!” Gwaine adds. “Admit it, you’d never really get rid of our darling Merlin.”

All the knights are grinning playfully at him, trying to coax some kind of confession out of him.

“Truth is,” he starts. All of the knights lean in with eager anticipation. “Although he’s the clumsiest person I know, he’s such an expert coward that he’s somehow never gotten himself killed on a quest,” Arthur says. “With all the trouble we get into on almost every excursion, a servant who keeps himself alive is somewhat valuable, otherwise I’d be hiring a new one every week.”

The group gives a collective disappointed groan.

It’s not entirely a lie. It really would be a pain to go through servants so quickly, but it’s not actually what Arthur thinks. While Merlin often gives Arthur plenty of good reasons to fire him, unfortunately it seems he likes him too much. If you could even call it that.

Honestly, actually, truthfully, sincerely, Arthur isn’t quite sure what he would do if he lost Merlin. It was a funny thing; Arthur had lived so long without him with no trouble at all, but within a week of knowing him Arthur had found himself unexpectedly attached to the boy. These past years together were so short in comparison to the amount of time spent apart, but now he can’t imagine life without him.

Not that he’d ever admit that, of course.

Loss is something known to Arthur from the beginning. In fact, apart from taking a breath, the first thing Arthur ever did was lose his mother. It’s in the first sentence of his story, it’s branded on his heart, engraved on his fingerprints, ever-present in his mind. There isn’t a world Arthur knows without it.

Arthur didn’t like to think about it - because he might do something awful, like burst into tears - but there had been a few terrible times when he really thought he was going to lose Merlin.

+

Arthur sits at his table, diving into the plate Gwen had brought to him. His father would scold him and tell him to slow down, but it was his first plate of real food in a week and he was finally able to sit down and relax. Gwen potters quietly around the room, completing her chores perfectly.

“I should thank you for assisting Gaius these past few days,” Arthur says after a while of comfortable silence. “You've worked tirelessly and are already back to running around the castle and serving me in Merlin’s stead.”

“Oh, it was nothing really,” she smiles bashfully. “Both him and Merlin would do the same for me. If anything, I should be the one thanking you. If you hadn’t gone against your father like that, I can't bear to think of how different things would be now.”

“Mm, yes, well,” he says around a mouthful, “you needn’t trouble yourself with thoughts like that. Merlin’s fine and will be back to work tomorrow.”

“I know, it's just he very nearly wasn't. It's amazing how well that antidote worked. I mean, it worked so well that for a moment we thought it wasn’t going to work at all! If that makes sense…” She says quickly, trailing off as she catches herself rambling.

Arthur’s eyebrow quirks. No, it definitely did not make sense. “What do you mean?” He asks.

Gwen turns away and makes herself busy. “Oh don't worry, I shouldn't have said anything really,” she dismisses. “Everything’s alright now.”

“Guinevere?” he asks, perplexed.

“You’re right, we needn’t trouble ourselves with it.”

“Guinevere, please,” Arthur says. She turns back, meeting his eyes warily. “What happened?”

She sighs mightily, the two-word question settling heavily on her shoulders. “I suppose you deserve to know… You see, not long after you left, Gaius noticed a rash on Merlin’s arm. His book said the rash would only appear during the final stage of the sickness and by the time you returned, he was really, really struggling. After I got the flower from you, I ran back as fast as I could. It only took Gaius a minute or two to put together the antidote and we managed to get Merlin to swallow it but then- well he-” She doesn’t manage to maintain the eye-contact, her eyes growing glossy as she looks down. “I thought I must've been mistaken or imagining it, but he just… shifted slightly, and I knew. I just knew."

Arthur feels his heart drop into his stomach. Suddenly he couldn't have any less of an appetite.

“I could see that he wasn't breathing, and I expected, or rather wished Gaius would say ‘No, silly child, he’s just fine,’” she imitates with a frown and a shake of the head, “but instead he just listened to Merlin’s chest and- I already knew what had happened. I’ve seen it before and will never forget what it looks like. But I didn’t really believe it until Gaius said that his heart had stopped. It must’ve only been a few moments as I waited for him to confirm it, but it felt like forever.”

Arthur becomes frozen as Gwen speaks, hanging onto every word as if he doesn’t already know how the story must end.

“Even then, I was waiting for something to happen - for Gaius to jump up and suddenly remember some kind of miracle tonic he had in his shelves, or for me to wake up from a horrendous nightmare. Neither of those things happened, and I had to turn away because I couldn’t bear to look anymore.” Gwen’s tormented gaze is fixed on the table, but she shakes it away as she looks up at Arthur, forcing a smile back onto her face. “But then something did happen! The antidote worked its magic, metaphorically speaking of course, and all of a sudden he was talking and trying to sit up!”

The entire quest Arthur knew exactly what he was trying to do and the consequences that would come if he failed. When his father crushed the flower in front of him, he felt the loss then. He felt all the waste it caused, not for Arthur's efforts, but for Merlin's life. Everything his mother had done to raise him, everything he had lived, learned and experienced, everything he could have done if he lived longer, thrown away like it was nothing.

“Merlin… died?” The words slip out like a question, though there’s no doubt about what had happened.

When Gwen had arrived at his cell with her crafty plan, a flimsy strand of hope had appeared, but the rest of Merlin’s fate was entirely out of his hands. With the clatter of a plate and hastily receding footsteps, his cell fell away and he was back in that cavern, dangling above an abyss and clinging desperately to the only hope he had. All night he stayed like that, the lack of updates bringing him to his fingertips. It wasn’t until the morning when Morgana snuck into the dungeons and told him the good news that he finally felt stable ground beneath his feet.

Hearing these details now, Arthur feels like he’s losing him all over again. Even though he’d confirmed Merlin’s wellness with his own eyes not even a few hours ago, the urge to double check overcomes him.

“But he's okay now, Arthur. That’s all that matters.” Gwen’s voice cuts through his spiralling.

“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat. “Of course, thank you.”

Chapter Text

When the Dorocha attacks started, Arthur never doubted how serious of an issue it was. Their assailant was invisible, had unrestrained freedom of movement and couldn’t be injured. He knew everyone was at risk and anyone could be taken, but he never in a million years thought they would get Merlin. Not really.

“No mortal has ever survived their touch.”

Gaius’ words rang around his head as he stood staring at Merlin on the floor, frozen in place as if he was one that had been touched. In the first few seconds after it happened, Arthur was trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. He must’ve fallen asleep and was having a nightmare, because it couldn’t be Merlin, please, anyone but Merlin.

He wasn’t asleep, and he had to continue living through the nightmare.

Merlin lived, barely. How he survived the attack, Arthur doesn’t know, but it’s clear he’s hanging on by a thread. They had to thaw him before he even started blinking again.

Arthur makes the painful decision to send him back to Camelot. It goes against his instinct to take advantage of every second that Merlin still breathes and hold him as close as possible. It means having one less knight by his side, but Merlin clearly couldn’t continue any further and Arthur wasn’t just going to let him die without even trying to get him help. He was relieved when Lancelot volunteered to take him, if only because it saved Arthur from having to make another difficult decision.

All of the knights help them prepare to leave, even if they don’t necessarily need that many extra pairs of hands. It makes it easier for everyone as a group - each of them trying to shoulder a piece of the burden (the guilt, the grief, the regret, he could go on) despite how much of it Arthur carried alone.

Naturally, Merlin only has to go and make it worse.

Pale, shivery, bleary eyed and so weak that they have to strap him into the saddle, he uses what very little remaining energy he has to beg to stay at Arthur’s side.

“You have to take me with you, please,” he chokes out.

“You’ll die, Merlin.”

“You don't understand. Please, Arthur.”

“Do you ever do as you're told?” Arthur says, sucking in a breath and fighting the down-tick of the edges of his mouth.

“I have to go with you,” he begs in that awful, breathless voice.

Arthur very nearly lost it there and then.

“Merlin,” is all he says. It’s all he can bear to say against the lump in his throat. Ideally, he would smile at him and tell him it's all going to be alright - he doesn’t want his last words to Merlin to be stern and scolding, even if they both know he doesn’t mean it. Ideally, they wouldn’t be in this situation at all.

Merlin looks up at him. The black of his hair and the horse's mane make him look even paler than he already is. His eyes are searching and pleading, every part the ghost Arthur’s sure he’ll soon be.

Arthur sends the horse onwards before he can do something silly, like gather Merlin into his arms and beg him to stay, or call the whole thing off and carry him home himself.

Merlin tries, and fails, to pull himself upright in the saddle as the horse walks on. Arthur tries, and fails, to prevent the tears from brimming in his eyes. He watches until they turn a corner of the ruins, savouring every last second of having Merlin in his sight.

Before, Arthur had accepted his fate at the veil through duty. He justified and came to terms with sacrificing his life by recognising his place in the kingdom and the responsibilities that came with it. But now, after seeing the state Merlin had ridden away in, he welcomes it with open arms. Being in this world without Merlin is a reality that Arthur cannot bear to face. Even though he feels shame alongside it, Arthur’s just glad that he won’t have to experience the agony of witnessing Merlin’s death. Small mercies, he supposes. He’ll join him beyond the veil soon enough.

None of the knights say anything after the send off, not even if they notice Arthur’s red-rimmed eyes. They’re all thinking the same thing, and know not to speak it. The air is heavy and thick. At times, Arthur is convinced he can breathe it no longer. And yet, he does, and he will continue to. Just until he can see Merlin again.

+

Lancelot returns earlier than expected, with no Merlin in sight.

“Lancelot? How’s Merlin?”

“Bad news…” he sighs.

Arthur’s world darkens. The colour is leached from his vision and everything goes grey and cold. He didn’t think he’d have to face this. He didn’t think he’d have the chance to hear confirmation of the unspeakable. He didn’t consider Merlin not even making it half of the way home.

He prepares to turn away to find some corner to hide in. A chance to cry away from his men and gather at least a few of the broken shards of his heart, just enough to hold himself up with.

And then, “He’s still alive.”

The room brightens as Merlin walks in. Suddenly, everything doesn’t seem so bleak anymore. He’s smiling and walking, upright and breathing. There’s those blue eyes, crinkled at the edges, and that tatty red top, crinkled all over. There’s colour in his cheeks and his hair is completely free of frost. He doesn’t look like he’ll be blown over by a breeze anymore and he’s no longer practically see-through with one foot through death's door.

A harsh, wheezing breath leaves Arthur and he breathes for what feels like the first time in a lifetime. Evidently, he also hadn’t considered Merlin surviving this. And yet here he is again, like he always is.

Chapter Text

The world comes back to Arthur in bumps and shakes. He feels wood against his back and hears wheels against dirt. Rocky ground causes the surface he's on to jolt, jarring his wounds and making him all too aware of what had happened. He remembers the caves, his men and the unfortunate encounter with Morgana. The only thing he’s confused about is how he’s waking up at all. He’d expected Morgana to end his life while she had the chance, but he feels distinctly not dead.

Arthur pries his eyes open. The tree canopy isn’t an unpleasant view to wake up to, but he feels unable to appreciate it. There’s a bad taste in his mouth and a nagging worry on the tip of his tongue. How were his men, did they all escape? What happened after he passed out? Where is he now?

He raises his head, finding himself laying in a wagon. A couple of other men are laying with him, but many more are trudging behind the wagon. They look worn, dirty, exhausted and half starved, but alive and persevering. Arthur pushes himself up with a wince and leans against the side.

“Sire!” Percival greets him with a smile. He’s walking beside the wagon, closest to Arthur. “Thank gods you’re awake.”

“Percival, what happened?” The wagon jostles him again and pain flares up his side.

“You should lie back-”

Arthur swats away Percival’s hands. “Tell me what happened.”

“Mordred, the boy who was with Morgana, betrayed her. He saved your life.”

Arthur frowns as he processes the information. There’s something still missing from the story. He can’t place it and or explain it, but something just feels wrong.

He looks himself up and down. Two arms, two legs, all of his fingers and toes are accounted for. Strips of fabric are tied around his wounds and he doesn’t appear to be imminently bleeding out.

“We took this wagon from outside the caves. The men are in good spirits, if a bit tired. We should be back to Camelot in a couple of hours,” Percival provides helpfully, seeming to notice his unease. But that’s not it. That’s not what’s bothering him.

“Ah, Princess!” Gwaine jogs up alongside Percival. “Good for you to join us.”

Gwaine looks better than he did last time Arthur saw him - stronger and in better spirits. Arthur’s glad to see he made it back alright after he left him to chase after Merlin.

That missing something snaps into place and Arthur sits up straighter. His eyes dart back to the wagon, searching the faces of the men who lay in there with him. When they don’t hold what he’s looking for, he scans the cluster of men behind the wagon, and when that fails he even twists around to see who’s driving the cart.

“What’s wrong?” Gwaine’s voice drops into a more serious tone.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, looking back at the knights, his heart racing. “Where is he?”

“Merlin…” Gwaine mutters and trails off. The two knights seem to think for a moment and then they look at each other, clearly hoping the other held the answer.

That’s enough to tell Arthur all he needs to know. With a burst of adrenaline, he pushes himself up towards the edge of the wagon.

“Woah- Wait, Arthur!”

Arthur jumps down despite the hands trying to prevent it. The wagon is pulled to a halt at the sound of the commotion and the group of men stops, looking ahead with questioning gazes.

“He was in the caves with me. You must’ve seen him,” Arthur explains hastily.

“No, we didn’t-”

“He was injured! He was in the same room as me, how could you miss him?”

“We- He was injured?” Percival cuts himself off, surprise and concern painted on his face. “We didn’t find you, Arthur. We met Mordred as he was carrying you out of the caves.”

When Arthur looks over, the young man is already snaking his way out of the crowd at the sound of his name. His slightly nervous disposition is already putting Arthur on edge. “What’s the matter, sire?”

“What happened to Merlin?”

“Merlin, sire?” Mordred questions with a tilt of his head. Then, recognition flashes across his face but is quickly replaced by hesitancy. “Well, I- I didn’t check on him. I was more focussed on getting you to safety, and once we met up with the others, I just…” He shifts from one foot to the other, no longer meeting Arthur’s gaze. “I suppose I forgot.”

Forgot. Forgot! Arthur’s starting to feel hysterical.

He turns back to Gwaine and Percival, both of whom have gone wide-eyed and pale.

“And you two, you didn’t think to check he was with you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Gwaine starts, looking like he’s about to throw up.

“You didn’t once wonder where he was!?” Arthur finds his voice raising.

“I’ll go back,” Percival says.

“I’ll go back, since I can’t trust you two with something so simple as-!” Arthur cuts himself off with a frustrated growl, feeling hot with anger. “Everyone else continue on to Camelot,” he orders and starts storming back the way they came. The movement pulls at his wounds and they flare up angrily, but he pushes it aside.

“Sire, your wounds!” Percival protests as he hurries after him. He hears Gwaine following too.

“Forget my wounds! What about Merlin’s wounds? What about him?”

“I’m so sorry, Arthur. We didn’t know, and we were just so occupied with everything else,” Percival says.

“You left him there,” Arthur says with disbelief. “Morgana threw him against the wall with her magic. Do you know how hard he hit those rocks? He could be-” He swallows. “And you just left him there.”

“I’m sorry,” Gwaine murmurs towards the ground, a haunted look blanketing his features. “I’m so sorry.”

+

Once they arrive back at the caves, Gwaine and Percival show the direction they saw Mordred come from and Arthur charges ahead of them. The tunnel is long and winding, and it forks at one point but Arthur recognises the path he took earlier.

When he turns a corner expecting to find more endless walls, the path instead opens up into a room.

He stops in his tracks. Cold washes over him.

Merlin lies on the other side of the room, exactly where Arthur had last seen him fall. He’s spread out on the floor, his usually restless boots are motionless, his frequently busy hands are unmoving. Arthur’s legs are carrying him across the room before he can even think to move. The world has gone quiet and all Arthur can hear is his own heart racing.

“Merlin,” he breathes as he drops to his knees beside him. Arthur’s hands hover hesitantly.

Merlin had hit the wall hard. How badly was he hurt? He clearly hasn't moved since and it had been hours. Was he even-? Surely he can't be-?

Arthur touches his chest tentatively, his hands stuttering like words, then moves up to his face, cradling it in his palms and simultaneously feeling for breath from his lips. Merlin doesn't react and his skin is cold to the touch, but Arthur’s brain scrambles for excuses. The caves are cold, the floor is cold, he hasn’t moved in a while, maybe he’s this cold normally?

Hesitant feet come up beside them.

“Is he…?” Gwaine chokes.

“Merlin?” Arthur whispers, still waiting. He readjusts and puts his ear by Merlin’s mouth.

For a moment, nothing happens and Arthur is certain time is standing still. The world around them feels like it grinds to a halt, and he’s sure it spreads across the entire land, because how could anyone or anything continue on with life right now? Nothing can happen until Arthur knows Merlin’s okay.

A fleeting warmth brushes over his ear and the world crashes back into motion. The creeping tightness around Arthur’s chest releases somewhat.

“He’s breathing,” Arthur says. Both knights slump in relief. Arthur takes a second to try and get his racing heart under control. He has to stay composed.

Merlin’s head is propped up against the wall, his neck at an uncomfortable-looking angle. Arthur’s brain helpfully replays the way Merlin had been effortlessly flung through the air, the way his head collided with the rocks, the crack it made and the thud of his body hitting the ground. He catches a glimpse of glinting wetness on the rock behind his hair.

“I need to check his head,” Arthur says and clears his voice, blinking away the memory. “Help me lift him.”

Gwaine darts forward and kneels on the other side of Merlin. He slips an arm beneath Merlin’s shoulders and lifts carefully while Arthur supports his head.

Gwaine cradles him against his chest like he’s made of glass and Arthur feels some of his anger at the knight dissipate. Logically, he knows all of the knights love Merlin like one of their own and would never purposely leave him here. Although he can imagine how bad they feel and how worried they are, it doesn’t change the fact that this could’ve been prevented, that he was abandoned in his hour of need when all he did was look after everyone else.

Merlin doesn’t make a noise as he’s moved or when Arthur prods and pokes at the back of his head. In fact, it’s unbearably quiet in here. Merlin should be complaining, wriggling and shrugging off their concern. But he’s not, and Arthur still doesn’t know whether he’s going to be okay, whether he’ll be the same after this, or if he’ll lose him forever.

Arthur carefully cards his fingers through Merlin’s hair. There’s a gash in his scalp and blood coating his hair and neck. It looks like it had stopped bleeding a while ago but had started up again when they moved him. Arthur can only hope that there isn’t more damage beneath the surface.

“Merlin?” Arthur pats his cheek gently as his head rests against Gwaine’s shoulder. “Merlin, wake up. Come on.”

“Merlin?” Gwaine calls, rubbing a hand up and down his shoulder.

“Wake up, hey!” Arthur tries again, patting a bit harder. Merlin’s brow twitches slightly and it spurs Arthur on. “Come on, Merlin. You’ve slept long enough.”

A flicker of eyelids and a quiet moan lifts all of their spirits. One of the flickers turns into a blink and his eyelids settle half lidded, unfocused eyes staring into the distance.

“That’s it. Can you look at me, Merlin?” Nothing, and then his eyelids drop closed. “No, hey, you need to wake up,” Arthur says. He pats his cheek again and this time he receives a grunt in response and Merlin’s head shifts backwards slightly.

“Go ‘way, ‘thur…” Merlin slurs.

Gwaine lets a short puff of air out of his nose, the relief jogging his frame and Merlin’s along with it.

“Open your eyes,” Arthur orders.

Merlin groans.

“Do as you’re told, for once, Merlin.”

A sigh. “So bossy…”

There’s a few moments where they’re all waiting quietly, giving Merlin a second to work himself up to the arduous task of lifting his eyelids. A couple more seconds tick on and Arthur starts to wonder if he’s traded patience for foolishness and let Merlin fall back asleep. He’s about to start poking again when Merlin finally obeys and opens his eyes. They drift around laboriously before settling on Arthur.

“There you are,” Arthur greets. “About time you woke up. You’re stressing everyone out.”

His brow creases. “S’rry?”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Merlin,” Gwaine says heavily. “Just stay awake, okay?”

Merlin’s eyes drift around aimlessly, confused. “...Why?”

“You hit your head.”

“Oh…” He says, his gaze settling somewhere far away and his eyes growing unfocussed again. “Okay, but ‘m goin’ back t’sleep.”

“No, no, no,” the three other men say in unison.

“What did we just say, Merlin?” Arthur says, snapping his fingers in Merlin’s face. Merlin flinches slightly at the noise and Arthur feels a pang of regret. He makes a note to not do that again, but only if Merlin stops trying to go back to sleep.

“M’head hurtss,” Merlin whines.

Merlin remains groggy and confused as they pull him to his feet with Percival under one arm and Gwaine under the other, but at least he also remains conscious. Arthur tries to help and wants to be the one holding him, but it pulls too much at his own wounds and he doesn’t think it wise to risk worsening them right now.

“Hey, Arthur?” Merlin asks as they guide him homeward. The two knights are practically holding his entire weight, his feet scuffing the floor with each step.

“Yes?”

“Can I ‘ave th’day off?”

Arthur lets out a breathy laugh. “Sure, Merlin.”

Chapter Text

“Appearances can be deceiving, dear brother.”

“Morgana,” he breathes.

That voice, that face - he hadn’t realised. Deception and betrayal flushes over him. He’s angry that he’s allowed her to trick him again, but the emotion is swiftly replaced with another realisation. Now, all he can hear is:

“Hilda found him.”

“He was down by the river. He must have fallen.”

Arthur had believed it in a second. Accident-prone Merlin had fallen, bumbling Merlin had hit his head. Clumsy Merlin was just being clumsy and it was as innocent as that. He doesn’t know how long Merlin had been alone with Hilda, or rather Morgana, but it was long enough for him to come out of it unconscious. Whatever had happened, Arthur’s now sure it wasn’t an accident.

With the time pressure they were under, Arthur’s brain completely skipped questioning how it happened and went straight to how long it would take for him to wake up. He wanted to wait for him before they continued on, but they didn’t have that luxury. Perhaps that was her plan - to force them into splitting up and weaken them as a group. But why target Merlin? Wouldn’t she rather get rid of more of his knights?

No, Arthur thinks he can piece it together now. He’d be remiss to not notice how frequently Merlin spotted danger before anybody else. Merlin must’ve figured it out and Morgana decided to get rid of him before he could warn anyone. The thought of Merlin discovering Hilda’s true identity and her bashing his skull against a rock for his troubles makes Arthur feel sick to his stomach.

Was it really just a head injury or had it been more serious than Gaius had realised? Had she used magic on him? What did she do? He wants to know. He wants to run back and check. Will he ever get the chance to find out?

He wishes he had the same observation skills as Merlin. Although Arthur is often very in tune with him and notices the subtle shifts of him sensing trouble, there have been so many times when Merlin has had one of these moments but nothing ever comes of it. He couldn’t count the amount of times when Merlin has behaved oddly, dashing around Camelot on a mission Arthur was not privy to, keeping secrets Arthur never discovers. If it was anyone else, the suspicious behaviour would’ve been dealt with one way or another years ago, but this is Merlin. He and Arthur are connected in a way Arthur could never put into words and he just knows that Merlin is always to be trusted. Even without that, Merlin had shown his bone-deep devotion and loyalty (however mind-boggling Arthur found it) far more times than he ever needed to.

Morgana sneers at him with those hateful eyes, ever so happy to see him brought to his knees, a blade to his throat.

Despite their differences, Arthur never stopped grieving Morgana. A small part of him will always see the old version of her upon first glance. She’d been failed, and he felt regretful that he hadn’t done more, couldn’t have done more. He wants to feel that sadness - it means he still remembers the Morgana he once knew, the kind, smiling sister he once had. It doesn’t feel good, to put it lightly, seeing her now, once again as an enemy.

But right in this moment, there is no grief for her. She touched Merlin.

Anger isn’t the right word. He’s furious, apoplectic even, that she's brought harm to Merlin yet again. The incident at the caves replays in his mind. It had been a head wound then, too. Arthur likes to joke about Merlin having some kind of mental deficiency, but it won’t be a joke for much longer if they’re not careful. Not only had she touched Merlin again, she’d then tricked Arthur into leaving him behind. Arthur left him on the floor in some crumbling ruins in the middle of nowhere, voluntarily. Sure, he wasn’t alone. He had a physician and a knight by his side (Gwaine, to be specific - none of the knights could look after Merlin like Gwaine), both skilled in their own respects, but what if that isn’t enough? Had further ill fallen upon them? Had Morgana set up a trap for them after everyone else had left? Anything could’ve happened.

Odin decides Arthur deserves to have his head lobbed off, which is slightly distracting and probably something he should do something about, but he still can’t stop thinking about Merlin.

The world around him starts shaking. His almost-execution erupts into chaos. Dust and rocks start raining down and the grip Odin’s men have on him slips. He grasps the opportunity and strikes out before Odin can think to. He throws a sword to Percival, grabs another and attacks again. Arthur turns and finds himself beneath a raised weapon.

He freezes.

His attacker falls.

Merlin appears, as sudden and unexpected as the first day they met, and he looks… okay.

He’s okay.

Chapter Text

They had just been talking about Merlin’s funny feelings, but he ignored it. Again.

Maybe Arthur was foolish to let Merlin carry so much luggage, maybe he should’ve made Merlin walk ahead of him, maybe he should’ve put himself between Merlin and the cliff edge. He definitely should’ve predicted it all going wrong at a seemingly quiet moment.

At the time, he hadn’t even been thinking about something bad happening. They were on track to reach the cauldron soon and all they were doing was innocently walking along a path. But no, that’s not all they were doing. They were not innocent, but rather negligent and foolish. Arthur was carrying Gueniviere, distracted and with his guard down. Merlin was carrying too much, far too much, and he probably wasn’t watching where he was putting his feet because that’s just how he is, and Arthur knew that. He’s always known that.

And so Merlin lags behind, his steps heavy and reckless, and he gets too close to the edge.

He slips.

Arthur doesn’t even hear him hit the bottom.

He doesn’t realise what’s happened at first - perhaps a distant wish for blissful ignorance. All he notices is how uncharacteristically Merlin is cut-off and then completely silent. When he turns around, Merlin isn’t there, or anywhere for that matter.

Surely not, he thinks when his eyes drift over the steep drop.

He couldn’t have, he denies as he lays Gwen down.

Because that would mean- he rushes over to the edge.

“MERLIN!”

Arthur doesn’t spare a second thought before he himself is becoming the reckless one. The dreadful sight of Merlin laying limp and askew at the bottom of the cliff is enough to make him commit another guilty act. He doesn’t know what he was thinking - obviously he wasn’t thinking at all - but he was a fool to not only abandon his vulnerable wife, but also think he could safely climb down the sheer and unstable cliff face.

He joins Merlin on the floor at the bottom of the cliff. It's not his finest moment, he realises as he stares up at the dull grey sky.

Arthur thinks he blacked out during his fall. It was probably only a few moments but it could've been longer. It's not like there's anyone conscious enough around to let him know. Rocks dig sharply into his back and even his own armour pinches at his skin. He's laying on an uncomfortable slope; his feet are higher than his head, so he feels like he should be sliding backwards, but he's held painfully in place.

His arm is well and truly stuck beneath a rock - one of the many he cleverly loosened and sent tumbling down towards Merlin. He doesn't think any of them hit him, but he isn't sure. It would be great if he could get up and check.

Arthur cranes his neck up. Merlin is lying to his right in the same position he'd been in when Arthur spotted him. He hasn’t moved an inch and Arthur’s heart races.

He's not able to see Merlin's head clearly with the angle he’s at. He can only see the underside of his chin and some of the bottom of his face.

Arthur’s brain invents horrible images of Merlin's brains smashed out on the rocks just beyond Arthur's view, his blood slowly draining away and Arthur unable to do anything despite only being a few feet away.

"Merlin," Arthur calls, stretching his body to reach Merlin with the tip of his boot. "Merlin!" He kicks him in the side.

Merlin doesn’t respond. He doesn't twitch, or flinch, or groan and Arthur only feels worse, and worse. He’s so still, it makes him feel ill. Already, the length in which he’s been unconscious is unsettling, but the continued fact that he refuses to rouse is concerning, alarming even. Arthur can't even tell if he's breathing. It would be really helpful if he made a noise, at least just to let Arthur know he still has air in his lungs.

The dread is full blown and suffocating. Arthur nearly rips his own arm off trying to escape it.

"Arthur!"

The distant call stops him from doing something drastic. Mordred leans over the cliff above him, like an angel peering down from the heavens.

Wheezing relief overtakes him.

"Check on Guinevere!"

Mordred brings three good things: First, some rope (why hadn’t they thought of that?), second, confirmation of Gwen’s continued wellness and presence (oops and phew), and third, an extra pair of conscious hands to help remove the boulder (thank the gods).

Mordred scales the cliff much more gracefully than anyone else had today and comes straight to Arthur’s aide, but he is promptly waved off.

"Is he breathing?" Arthur says, looking past Mordred at the still-too-quiet heap beside him.

Mordred looks confused, his gaze only flicking to Merlin as a second thought, and even then still unsure. Clearly expecting to assist the King first, he adjusts to the new priority.

"Is he alive, Mordred?" Arthur presses, even if Mordred was already turning to check. He couldn't help blurting it out, the vital need to know overwhelming him.

Mordred kneels down beside Merlin, lowering a gentle hand. Arthur doesn't care about how painful it is to stretch his neck and wrench his arm to try and get a better view, to try and get the answer even a millisecond earlier.

“He’s breathing, sire,” he says. “He lives.”

Arthur flops back.

+

Later, when they’re sat around the campfire, free from beneath boulders and everyone who shouldn’t be unconscious, isn’t, Arthur considers how the day played out. They’re extremely lucky Mordred turned up, out here in the middle of nowhere. He makes sure to let him know of his gratitude.

"Without you, I fear I would have lost my arm at the very least," Arthur says after Mordred explains why he followed them.

Merlin huffs next to him, never one to miss an opportunity to express his strange dislike of Mordred. "I would have woken…" he says dismissively.

Arthur’s not sure he would've. At least, not before he cut his own arm off in desperation to get to him.

Arthur realises that when he stood up on that cliff, suddenly alone, the harsh wind cutting through him, his unconscious wife on the floor behind him, he didn't hesitate one second in trying to come to Merlin's aid. Although his rescue mission didn't go very well, he can't bring himself to regret it. How could he? This is Merlin we're talking about.

Chapter Text

This isn’t exactly how Arthur had hoped his day would go. He’d imagined scenes of peace and quiet on this fine sunday. Reclining in a steaming bath, reading a book, eating a delicious meal, perhaps even enjoying a picnic. But apparently being the King comes with responsibilities, expectations and yada yada… so, here he is out scouting with a few knights (and Merlin). Reports of bandits in this area had forced them into checking it out.

Their trip had been quite uneventful, and Arthur’s pretty sure any bandits have moved on from this area, but Leon draws attention to an abandoned fort nearby and suggests they also check there. Arthur reluctantly agrees. Of course Leon is right, but he wishes he wasn’t so that they could all go home.

Arriving at the fort, Arthur notes how quiet the place is. There’s no horses left outside, no noises of degenerates, no wagons, crates or luggage. There’s no footprints in the dirt or plume of smoke from a fire. Even the overgrown vegetation over the pathways look undisturbed. Arthur would be surprised if they found anyone here.

They enter through the front door, after they manage to push the stiff thing open. There’s a hallway with four corridors, probably all leading to the same place at the end, if the shape of the building from the outside was anything to go by.

Arthur doesn’t want to spend too much time here, so he decides they can split up to search the place quicker.

“Alright, you three take a corridor each,” he says to Gwaine, Percival and Leon. They nod obediently. “Merlin come with me.”

“Why don’t I get my own corridor?” Merlin whines.

“So I can keep an eye on you. I don’t trust you not to fall out of some window or suddenly disappear,” Arthur says. “And I said so. That's why.”

Merlin doesn’t argue back, the fight not worth the effort, and they all split off.

There’s not much of interest in any of the rooms they pass - just rotting furniture and some birds. Merlin still takes a longer pause at each doorway to take a curious peer in before jogging to catch back up with Arthur. About halfway down the corridor, they reach a closed door and Arthur goes to open it. The handle is stubborn when he tries to press it down, several grating squeaks coming from within the door.

“Need help with that?” Merlin needles.

“Shut up, Merlin.”

Arthur jiggles it a few more times and then finally manages to wrestle it into agreement with a gratifying crunch. The door swings open, dust falling from the door frame as it does, and the room is revealed. It’s much larger than any of the others they’d come across, and several bookcases sprawl down the length of it.

“Oh, wow! A library!” Merlin pushes ahead of Arthur, heading straight to the shelves and dusting off spines.

“It’s not that exciting,” Arthur says, walking in after him and taking a cautious look around. “We have one back in the castle, undoubtedly with a far more impressive collection.”

“Okay, sire,” Merlin scoffs with his nose already in a book. Arthur can practically hear the eyeroll. “You don’t need to boast about how big your collection is. They’re all different. They come in various shapes and sizes, and you shouldn’t shame anyone else’s collection.”

“Dear gods, Merlin. Do shut up,” Arthur scolds, shaking his head and damning Gwaine’s influence on his servant. He does a quick scan of the length of the room and turns back to the door when he finds no sign of anyone having been here in a very long time. “Come on, don’t dawdle. Let’s keep moving so we can actually go home at some point.”

“Ugh, fine,” Merlin moans from behind him.

Arthur exits the room, feeling his cape drift along behind him and kick up dust. He promptly continues down the corridor, not wanting to waste any more time.

+

When he reaches the end, he finds his earlier guess was right; all the corridors did end up meeting in the same place and Percival and Gwaine are already waiting.

“All clear?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah, this place has been empty for a long time,” Percival confirms.

“Where’s Merlin?” Gwaine questions.

Arthur frowns. “He’s right-” He glances backwards to point at his servant but does a double take when he finds the space behind him empty.

Leon comes round the corner of his corridor and notices the awkward silence. “What’s going on?”

“Arthur’s lost Merlin,” Gwaine supplies promptly.

“What?” Leon balks.

“I did not! He was here a second ago,” Arthur says quickly.

“You lost him,” Gwaine repeats, deadpan.

“I didn’t lose him! I’ve just,” he looks around, creating time to find the right words in lieu of looking for any sign of Merlin, “...temporarily misplaced him.”

“I thought you specifically told him to stay with you so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen,” Leon says, mystified.

“Oh gods,” Gwaine moans, remembering Arthur’s earlier words. “Did he fall out of a window?”

“No,” Arthur insists. “Well… I don’t think so. I didn't see him go near any open windows.”

"That's… probably exactly the problem," Leon adds helpfully.

Gwaine hums affirmatively. "You weren't looking when he was near an open window and whoops there he went!"

"Oh no," Percival blanches.

"Just because I said it earlier as a way of teasing him does not mean he's actually fallen out of a window."

“I thought you were keeping an eye on him?” Percival questions. "It's just you said that you would… so that he wouldn't fall out of a window?"

Arthur runs a hand down his face. Gods have mercy. “I was! Or I did, up until a certain point. Perhaps I was focussed on the thing we actually came here to do and forgot to keep checking he was still there. Which I shouldn’t have to do, by the way!” Arthur scratches his head, trying to think of where Merlin might’ve gone off to. Gwaine and Percival are trading glances and Leon looks fatigued. “Okay fine, maybe I kind of lost him a little bit. Happy?” Arthur admits.

Gwaine says, “A little bit or a whole bit?”

While Percival says, “How can you lose someone a little bit?”

“Well, we know roughly where he is. He’s here somewhere. So I only lost him a-”

"Whatever has happened to Merlin,” Leon interrupts, “regardless of the specific wording, shouldn't we start looking? Sire?”

“Yes,” Arthur sighs. “Rather than returning to the horses and going home like we all want to… It’s fine, we can go back and look at all of the interesting places I just looked at once already. Why not? It will be fun.” Arthur continues muttering to himself as he leads the way.

+

There are dusty rooms, and more dusty rooms, none of which contain a Merlin. There are some rats, mice and some crows, one of which looks like Merlin hidden behind a cupboard for a second, but it isn’t and they continue.

“I can’t believe you lost Merlin,” Gwaine says after a while of silence, his playful smile evident in his tone. Arthur had been getting steadily more irritated as more and more time was wasted. It’s clear this is Gwaine’s attempt at releasing some of the tension.

“Merlin is a grown man who is capable of looking after himself,” he says defensively, and then he rethinks his statement. “Sort of.”

“So, just to speed things up a little,” Gwaine says after another empty room is ticked off the list. “Where did you put him?”

“If I knew, Gwaine, we wouldn’t be checking every single damned room! There was the library, but I thought he was behind me for all of these rooms too…” Arthur pauses for a few seconds, realising the library was the last time he was sure Merlin was there. “I swear, if he’s still reading books…” He starts skipping rooms and storming ahead to the library.

+

Arthur finds the library door just as he found it before: closed, and closed tight for that matter. The handle, once again, refuses to move on the first attempt.

“Merlin!” Arthur bangs on the wood and then tries again.

“You in there, mate?” Gwaine calls as he gives an experimental push on the door.

There’s no noise from within the room and no moving shadows beneath the door.

Arthur shakes the door by the handle, trying to jog something loose.

“I presume this opened before?” Leon says.

Arthur lets out a breath of exertion after another attempt and Percival takes his place. “Yes, it was stiff before but I did manage to open it easier than this.”

Percival presses on the handle, just as Arthur did, and nothing happens. There’s not even any squeaks or scrapes of the mechanism at least trying to work. “That’s not moving any time soon,” the largest knight says. “How did you get it open before?”

“I just shook it and tried again, exactly like we’ve just done.”

Percival shakes the door again, and then fails to move the handle.

“Fellas, we’re going to have to break this door down to save our fair maiden,” Gwaine comments. “I mean, Merlin.”

Arthur sighs. Trust Merlin to cause a scene. “Go ahead, Percival,” he says.

The other three step back, giving him the space to move. Percival leans back on one foot and raises the other to kick. The door shudders stubbornly and more dust falls from within the door frame. He kicks again and they hear the wood begin to splinter. It takes two more kicks and then the door flings open, the handle mechanism falling to pieces and clattering to the ground.

The room they’re met with is unexpectedly quiet. Once the wood splinters stop skidding across the floor and the dust disappears into the air, there is no movement from within the room. Having expected to find Merlin, the contrast is eerie.

Arthur is first to step in. He moves forward cautiously, finding himself mimicking his earlier steps.

“...Merlin?” he calls hesitantly. If Merlin isn’t in here then he might actually start worrying about the open window theory.

“Oh, thank gods!” The relieved cry comes from further in the room. Merlin’s beaming face pops out from behind a bookcase, where he seems to have been cowering behind. “There you are!”

“Th- There we are?! We’re the ones that have been looking for you!”

“Bog man!” Gwaine calls affectionately. The knight walks ahead and meets Merlin, clapping him on the shoulder. “So glad you didn’t succumb to a window.”

Merlin's smile turns into a frown and he mutters a confused, “What?”

“Please explain to me why you are still here,” Arthur groans

“You walked off without me and the door swung shut behind you! I tried to open it for ages and I called after you but clearly you weren’t worried about me,” Merlin huffs. “Did you even notice I wasn’t with you?”

“He didn’t,” Gwaine says.

“No, he didn’t,” Percival agrees.

Merlin looks outraged. Arthur is reminded that between him and his manservant, his knights will never back him up in an argument.

Arthur shrugs. “I just thought you were finally being quiet.”

Merlin flings his arms up. “When does that ever happen?!”

“Alright, Merlin, we’re here now, aren’t we? Why on earth were you hiding behind some books rather than trying to help us open the door?”

“I didn’t know who you were!” Merlin exclaims. “We did come here looking for bandits after all, and you should’ve heard how weird all of the noise sounded through the door. It was loud, but muffled and echoey. It was scary! Especially when you started banging on it!”

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. “You keep finding ways to astound me, Merlin.”

“You’ll be pleased to know there are no bandits,” Gwaine says to Merlin.

“Oh, good. Can we go home now?”

“Yes, what a great idea.” Arthur turns on his heel and starts walking towards the door and his knights follow.

“Arthur, can I take these?” he hears Merlin call from behind him.

“No,” he replies without looking.

“You can’t stop me.”

“Then why did you ask me, Merlin?”

Arthur exits the door. This time he does look behind him and finds Merlin shuffling after them, his arms full of books. Gwaine slings an arm around him and guides him to the side of the corridor without any windows. Arthur will try to avoid any more temporary misplacements in the future, if only to save him the time and extra teasing from his knights. He knows them well enough to know they won’t let him forget about it.