Forbidden - A Merthur fic

Chapter 5

Uther could not be more displeased. As he watched from the balcony of the castle, he became aware of a disturbance below. He hardly dares to believe his bad luck. Arthur.

"DO NOT LET HIM THROUGH!" He bellows down to the guards surrounding the platform. He wanted to watch the servant die. And he wanted to watch him die now.

Arthur's been thrust into a complete panic mode. He sees the guards rushing towards him, attempting to prevent him from nearing Merlin. He hardly thinks before unsheathing his sword, disarming one, two, three of the guards. He bolts up, leaping on to the platform, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He lunges forward, stepping in to the burning wood. He slashes through the ropes that bind Merlin's limp body to the stake. Switching his sword in his hands, Arthur moves forward and yanks Merlin from the burning mess. His servant seems lifeless in his arms, and Arthur has never been more terrified in his life.

Arthur was in shock. He held the limp, smoke drenched body of Merlin in his right arm, his sword in his left, and his father's guards were surrounding him on the platform. He raises his head to look up at the balcony, where Uther stood looking down upon the scene. "Father!!!" He yells up to him, panic and confusion in his voice. "Order them down! Make them stand back!!"

Uther's eyes are furious, and he stares down at his son coldly, his jaw taught with immesurable anger. He hears Arthur's pleas, but says nothing. If his son was willing to fight Camelot guards in order to save the life of a servant, Uther had no more use of him. Arthur was as good as dead to him.

Arthur tightens his grip on his sword. Hurt and disbelief flash across his face. Uther had heard him. Why did he not answer? "FATHER!!" Slowly, the guards were closing in on him. "FATHER!! Help me!!"

Uther slowly turns his back on the scene, walking back into the castle. "You are no son of mine."

Arthur's furious shouts are drowned out in the sudden roar of the guards, who, as one, charge forward. Arthur's stomach drops and clenches. He has no choice.

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Burning. The first thing Merlin becomes aware of is the burning. The burning in his lungs, the burning in his feet and legs, the pain that tore through him with each breath he took.

His eyes open slowly, unfocused. He blinks, sucking in a shuddering breath, which he immediately regrets after pain flares through his chest. A bout of violent coughing takes him, and he coughs for minutes on end, his body wracking, tears escaping the corners of his eyes.

When finally he stills, Merlin's able to look around. He's not in Camelot any more. He's in...the woods? Trees surround him. He lies on the ground on his back, a tattered red cape beneath him like a blanket. He sees a man with his back towards him, cleaning off a sword. Merlin frowns. Who would have saved him?

The man turns, and Merlin's eyes widen. It was the last person he expected to see, and the person he wanted to see more than anyone else in the world. "Arthur...?"