What is the life of a servant compared to that of a prince?
Servants perform the duties around the castle, guiding the domestic jobs with other servants. Anyone can be a servant, but a prince or a king rules the state via their bloodline. Everyone must follow them or beware of the consequences.
Nevertheless, a castle does not function without either.
Well, Arthur thinks that a good servant is hard to come by. Or maybe, he thinks that Merlin is not only a servant but also a friend. He hides the fact that Merlin is his friend every other time he shows any semblance of fondness for him. Yeah, the prince is a big softie.
Merlin still thinks that Arthur is a prat of a prince, but he is his best friend.
Who does not want to sacrifice themselves to protect a true friend?
Arthur is willing to sacrifice himself for his country, his kingdom, and his people. He would sacrifice himself for his friends.
Merlin wants his life, however long it may be, to be risked rather than Arthur's. Arthur is the future of the land.
.oOo.
In the ruins where they sit, eating, more promises are made.
"One thing," Arthur says while they eat. The fire looks awfully bright, the only light in the night for acres. "Look after Guinevere, I want her to be happy in her life. She deserves that."
Merlin has an odd look that holds back the truth and the pain of the situation. "Don't worry. I'll make sure." The idiot utters those words, knowing the irony of it all.
They want to sacrifice themselves for the other. Whether it be the trap of codependency or idiotic tendencies, both situations are moronic.
.oOo.
No matter how much Lancelot understands that this is their best chance, he still wants to argue with Merlin. He shouldn't have to sacrifice himself for everyone.
He shouldn't have to– but he will.
Merlin explains how it will happen in hushed tones. Lancelot bites his tongue, holding back reprimands, but understanding the fundamental point of the situation: No one wants another to sacrifice themselves, but Merlin, Merlin is their best bet.
.oOo.
Lancelot and Merlin rise early, just as the others do. The morning arrives sooner anyone expects, catching Gwaine in surprise of a rock he trips over and many sleepy stares.
No sooner than the fog has mostly lifted off of the lake, they arrive at the Isle of the Blessed.
Crazy to think that it was blessed at a point. How "blessed" is it to be haunted by screeching beasts and spirits of the beyond?
.oOo.
The closer they get the louder the screeching.
It is like a sword running over the stones at their feet, as grotesque as the slimy rot of plants floating at the edges of the isle's grounds. The screeches increase in mass and volume.
Gwaine knows those sounds from a distant quest. Oh well, it might as well be a worse day than it was. He speaks when a cold shiver goes down his spine. "I really hope I'm wrong." Well, he's not. He's really not.
A wyvern flies down at them.
Even though everyone can see the flapping wings, prince-obvious yells, "Wyvern!"
More of the winged beasts attack, hitting the biggest target which happens to be Percival. "You're right!" The strong man feels the need to say as if he were a parent speaking to a child pointing out objects. A wing slices the air extremely close to his face. He stares at the magic-user's face to do something or his face will be wiped away from the kingdom.
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Mostly because dead people don't talk back
FanfictionVery often and sometimes a bit too many times for his taste, Gwaine found himself in very unique situations when near to Merlin. The smell of blood and dirt smothered his senses, and Gwaine couldn't get up the energy to remove himself from this sit...
