Chapter Text
Arthur knew that he shouldn't have poured that bucket of water over Merlin's head. It was an impulse that struck him, seeing a bucket of water, and subsequently seeing Merlin. The temptation was simply too great.
It was only that his timing had been so poor that he regretted the practical joke. Because when Merlin shivered from the cold shock, he swayed unsteadily. He fell to his knees.
Instinct drove the king forward, catching the warlock before his head could hit the ground. He swore, pulling his unconscious friend further into his arms as he stood back up.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“How could this happen? Who did this?“
“I-I don't know. All I can focus on is healing him,” Gaius replied.
Arthur swallowed his fear at the physician's detachment. “Tell me the truth, Gaius.”
“He's on death's door. Whoever ran him through was clever. They must have . . .”
Arthur balled his hands into fists, leaving bruises on his palms. “Just say it!”
“Your sword, sire. Excalibur.” Gaius sighed in defeat, running a weary hand over his face. “Merlin's magic isn't healing him at all, which tells me that he was stabbed with a powerful, magical weapon. Like one forged in a dragon's breath.”
Arthur's eyes widened. “Someone tried to kill him with my sword?” The thought was horrifying, but Gaius had no reason to lie. Anger bubbled and boiled like a cauldron spilling over, and he looked down into Merlin's face.
“We've been fighting.”
“I know, sire.”
“His magic . . . I haven't been taking it well.”
“I know, sire.”
“But I wouldn't ever . . . you must know I'd never hurt him. I'd never allow anyone else to, either.“
“I know, sire.”
Arthur's eyes settled back on the servant, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. “I will find who did this,“ he muttered. It was a promise. “I will kill them.“
“I know, sire.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Arthur's hand circled Merlin's wrist, tight enough that the man would surely complain. That's all the king wanted—to hear Merlin's whinging once more.
All he focused on was the slow, faint pulse. Weak, but there.
The door creaked open. “Sire.”
Arthur didn't look up, eyes still trained on Merlin's pale face. “What is it, Leon?”
“We found him, sire. The man who . . .”
This, finally, was able to draw Arthur’s gaze away from the warlock. “His name,” Arthur demanded, voice threatening.
“It was Sir Eren, Your Majesty.”
Arthur’s skin bristled. Sir. It had been no stranger, no assassin in the night. It had been one of Arthur’s men. Arthur’s knight. A man the king devoted years to training, to encouraging, just like all the rest.
“There’s been a . . . hiccup, of sorts, in apprehending him.”
Arthur shot up from his seat by Merlin’s side, hand leaving his wrist. “Don’t tell me you lost him, Leon,” Arthur warned through gritted teeth. But Leon shook his head.
“Of course not, I’d never let a man that hurt my friend escape,” Leon replied, his voice calm but his eyes betraying his nerves. “It was rather that . . . well, I was not the only knight around when Eren confessed. And Gwaine . . .”
Realization dawned upon him, sickeningly satisfying. “Gwaine killed the man?” Leon nodded. Arthur jutted out his chin. “Good. I’d have liked to do it myself, but I understand that Gwaine felt he needed to do so.”
Leon was clearly relieved that Arthur wasn’t angry the killing blow had been delivered by another hand. “Of course, sire.”
Arthur returned to his seat by Merlin, hand returning to its position against his wrist. He waited for the thready pulse to beat beneath the pad of his finger, but it didn’t come. Arthur’s brows furrowed, and he pressed harder.
Seconds passed. Nothing.
The sound that ripped its way from Arthur’s throat was foreign to both the king and his trusted knight. But that sound would keep Leon up at night for years.