Lost in Albion 3 (Merlin) - Completed

Chapter 20: A Blunt Tip

Chapter 20

"What are we actually going out for?" I pester Merlin as I make sure my saddle is well fitted and strapped. Merlin is doing the same to his, holding Arthur's horse as well since the Prince is late.

"Well, technically it's Arthur and me, you just decided to join by yourself," he retorts, not answering my question.

"Touché," I mutter to myself, figuring the answer isn't that important anyway. "Where is Prince Prat anyways?"

"Right here," someone says right behind me. My feet spin, surely putting a new skid mark on the sole of my boots and my eyes widen. Arthur is looking at me expectantly and I blush at being caught calling the Prince such a disrespectful nickname.

"...Uh," I stammer.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, easily dismissing the nickname. I let out a breath of air, puffing my cheeks. Images of the dungeon cells flashing before my eyes.

"Coming with you," I answer, going back to fixing my saddle. "And you can't say no because I've already gotten the horse ready," I cheek, patting the horse to affirm my point. Arthur rolls his eyes, rubbing the horse's nose.

"Yes, because my orders are blocked by a horse with a saddle," he deadpans.

"Considering I haven't heard anything yet, yes," I shrug, stepping into the stirrup to mount. I smirk to Merlin who is already mounted, and he shares an amused glance as the Prince bites his cheek as though trying to hold back some retort.

We ride out of Camelot in a good mood, completely unaware of the trouble this one ride will bring with it.

Xx

I curse into the wind, my feet thrusting off the ground, and the blood fills my ears. My hair, which wasn't very well tied in the first place, is bouncing from a loose bun, flopping against my neck as the shorter strands make it their mission to block my face.

Arthur and Merlin run in front of me, looking back every now and then to look at the bandits behind us but I spare no effort, barely keeping up with them as it is. Walking, yes, I can do that for hours. But running? I can't run a minute without feeling out of breath.

And we've been running for much longer than a minute. My chest reaches for the sky, trying to fill itself and audible pants drip from my dry lips. My only consolation is that Merlin looks just as tired as me.

It's like those tips people give you to try and run further; just pretend you're being chased by someone with a knife. Well, I have a very good imagination because there's at least twenty of them and they have very long knives.

I have mine, which thankfully I didn't leave on the horse we left a while ago.

Arthur changes direction, Merlin and I skidding after him. He stops, hiding behind some rocks. Merlin joins his side as I skid down the small sloped, grazing my hand along the dirt. Merlin's hands pull me back up and I huddle between them with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. I am making a very conscious effort not to sound like I'm wheezing in front of them.

"Are they still after us?" Merlin asks. I'm shocked he still has the ability to breathe.

"I told you we'd outrun them," Arthur beams.

"You sure?"

"Why is it you never trust me, Merlin?" he questions. I push off my knees, seeing something through the tree lines.

"Probably with good reason," I say, gesturing to the growing men. Arthur grabs my arm, forcing my legs to move to keep up with the Prince's pace as we start off running again.