Forbidden - A Merthur fic

Chapter 7

Merlin sits there, shocked for a moment. "ARTHUR!!" He shouts after him, his voice hoarse and cracking. "Arthur please!" He begs, fear twisting in his stomach. Arthur doesn't turn around. He just keeps walking, walking away. "Please...." Merlin's voice trails off into a broken whisper. He drops his head into his hands, ignoring the burning pain in his lungs and limbs. He'd just lost the one friend, the only hope he'd had. Tears sting his eyes as his shoulders begin to shake. It had all been for nothing.

Arthur doesn't know what to think, doesn't know what to do. He's banished for saving Merlin. But Merlin betrayed him. Merlin, his servant. His servant of four years now... A sorcerer. He couldn't believe it. He was angry. Angry and confused and scared. He walks blindly, no idea of where he's going. He's so caught up in his own head that he doesn't see the riders on horseback that pass nearby. He doesn't notice anything until a drawn out scream pierces the silence.

Arthur whips around, unsheathing his sword. He looks back in the direction that the scream had come from and his heart stops. "MERLIN!!!"

Without thinking, he sprints back in the direction he'd come from, cold fear in his heart. He sees four horsemen surrounding  a figure on the ground. An unintelligible scream tears itself from Arthur's mouth as he charges them, only one thought on his mind- get to Merlin.

The horsemen didn't even know what had hit them. One minute they were bearing down upon a beaten boy on the ground, the next they were hurling backwards through the air. Three out of four hit tree trunks and died instantly. The fourth hit the ground, but impaled himself on his own sword. He died shortly after.

Merlin lies panting on the ground, lowering his outstretched palm shakily, his eyes going from gold to blue. He slumps back, his eyes fluttering closed. Using magic had never drained him this much.

Arthur skids to a stop as he sees the horsemen flying off their horses, and the horses bolting off into the woods. He stares at Merlin, his eyes wide. "Merlin..." He takes a few steps towards him, lowering his sword. "Are...are you alright?" He tries to slow his racing heart.

An odd sound escapes Merlin's cracked lips, sounding like a groaned whisper of pain. His eyes seem to be having difficulty staying focused on Arthur's face above him. Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Merlin lifts the hand resting on his stomach. It comes away red; revealing the dark stain spreading across his shirt.

Arthur feels like he's had a bucket of ice cold water thrown in his face. All at once he finds it very hard to breathe as his breath is knocked from his chest. In that moment, it doesn't matter that Merlin had just killed four men, or that he had used magic to do it. All that mattered was that Merlin was hurt. That bloodcurdling scream Arthur had heard had come from Merlin. Wordlessly he slides one arm under Merlin's shoulders and the other under his legs, standing with Merlin in his arms.

Merlin whimpers, the edges of his vision blackening as pain makes him nauceous. His head lolls limply against Arthur's shoulder, his eyes flickering as he struggles to stay conscious.

"Hold on, Merlin," Arthur mutters, panic in his voice. He looks around helplessly. He couldn't go back to Camelot; Merlin would be killed. The nearest village was an hour away, on horseback, and they didn't have horses. Helplessness rises in Arthur's chest and throat, choking. "Hold on...."

"Arthur..." Merlin's voice is weak, his breathing hitched. His bloodied fingers clutch weakly at the fabric of Arthur's shirt. "I.....I can....."

Arthur doesn't seem to be paying attention to Merlin. His mind is racing, trying to think of how he could save the wounded boy in his arms. Tears of hopelessness rise to his eyes and he subconsciously holds Merlin closer to his chest.

"Arthur...." Merlin's voice is a bit louder now, and when Arthur looks down at him, he continues. "I can....summon..-" His words are drowned in a sudden coughing fit that wracks his body, sending agonizing spikes of pain through his chest and stomach.

Arthur can only watch him, feeling his heart twist at Merlin's suffering. It hurt him to know that he couldn't aleviate Merlin's pain.

When Merlin's coughs finally subside, he chokes out a few words that sound like gibberish to Arthur, a trickle of blood running down his chin. Arthur's eyes widen as a thunderous roar approaches from overhead. He looks up through the treetops, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

The very trees seem to bend and sway as an enormous beast lands only yards away from where Arthur stands. Arthur's eyes slowly travel from the long taloned feet, up the scaly breastbone, and finally to the large head. He stares, eyes wide. "Wings," he whispers, shellshocked. 

Before him, real as anything he'd ever seen, was a dragon.

Without warning, Arthur's eyes roll back up into his head, his knees buckling beneath him. He crumples to the ground, Merlin still in his arms, and a firebreathing dragon only feet away.