Merthur One Shots

Watercolor Eyes

Date Published: July 11th, 2023
Word Count: 5,106
A/N: Saw this on tumblr and knew I had to write something for it because eye appreciation and The Poisoned Chalice? Yes please!

Sweat rolled down the sides of Arthur's face as he clung to the ledge. His hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck. His hands were no better off, damp within his leather gloves. Arthur blinked and shook his head to prevent the salty substance from burning his eyes, though he supposed it didn't matter all that much.

The cave around him was black, so dark it appeared flat. There was no way for him to navigate to safety, let alone find the flowers the life of his manservant was resting on. Arthur's muscles were protesting against holding on for so long; the extra weight of his armor was not helping either.

In the darkness, the prince's panting sounded deafening, but his hasty breaths were quickly accompanied by the skin crawling sound of far too many legs skittering up the rock walls.

Arthur looked around the gloom frantically to no avail. He could barely make out the rough surface mere inches from his nose. His heart rammed against his chest as panic started to seize his body; his survival instinct was all that kept him from letting go, but there was nothing he could do.

Dread twisted in the prince's stomach as his thoughts drifted. He wondered if his father would cry when he learned of his fate, or if he would scowl and say, "I told you so" as he stood before his funeral pyre. Was Morgana going to blame herself for pushing him to go? And Merlin, poor Merlin, undoubtedly still suffering from the poison meant for him; without the antidote, he was going to die. Arthur's throat constricted as he remembered Gaius' words. He wished Merlin's passing would at the very least be peaceful, but his manservant was to die a slow and painful death at the hands of the Mortaeus flower.

He hissed as a cramp shot through his shoulder. The sounds of the spiders were growing closer, and his grip was getting looser; at least the fall would kill him before the spiders could eat him alive. Arthur closed his eyes as acceptance washed over him.

The darkness behind his eyelids was interrupted by a soft light. As the prince's eyes fluttered open, he was greeted by a glowing orb. A chill shot down his spine. More magic was the last thing he needed, and he growled under his breath. After all he'd been through, Arthur refused to cower as he faced his demise.

"Come on, then! What are you waiting for?!" he demanded. "Finish me off!"

He expected the orb to do something, like blast him with fire or turn him to dust, but it simply hovered in the air beside him. Arthur glared at it; magic was deceptive and he didn't trust it. To his surprise however, the light simply floated above his head, illuminating the ledge he was hanging from. He could see the wall and the foothold. If he was going to try and make it out of this, he needed to make use of the visibility the magic was providing.

Arthur took a couple deep frustrated breaths before pulling himself up with a yell. His muscles screamed in protest, but he managed to get his feet onto the platform. He retrieved his abandoned sword, and he returned it to his sheath.

The orb continued to hover. The conflicted feeling in the prince's stomach caused him to take a moment to stare at the mysterious light.

He had been trapped and left to die by a sorceress mere minutes prior. It was clear to Arthur that whoever the woman was, she had reason to want him dead; just like every other sorcerer he'd ever met. They all despised him, and he couldn't fault them for it. He was the son of a king who had ruthlessly hunted them down for nearly two decades.

However, the light that glowed before him had to be from a sorcerer. His brows furrowed together as he scrutinized it. What kind of magic user would try to save him? Arthur was alone in the awful cave, so how had the orb even appeared? How did it know what to do? Was it a trap?