Work Text:
Fog.
Everything was fog and a numbed pain in his side.
And a voice. A voice? He thought it said his name.
He thought sleepily that it was Arthur.
"It's Arthur." He mumbled, determined. "It's Arthur."
He thought the voice answered him, he thought it said something along the words of 'idiot'.
"Definitely Arthur, then." He thought his king laughed.
He smiles at that.
It's going to be fine, Arthur says.
He wonders what he's talking about, nothing's wrong.
He thinks he sees a frown on Arthur's face.
He fumbles with his hands, murmured words of reassurance that he's okay, really.
He feels warm when Arthur holds onto him, stroking across his hands with his.
There's a sharp sting of pain, and lips pressed against his forehead.
He thinks he hears his king say his name again.
He thinks it hurts.
He wonders why it's so dark.
He doesn't think anymore.