Once & Forever

"Merlin, is it really that hard to keep up? You're on a horse for gods' sakes!" Arthur didn't have to look over his shoulder to know that his servant was severely lagging. "If we want to get there before the sun is ahead, you're going to have to do a lot better than this! In fact, if we want to arrive in the clearing before nightfall, pick up your pace!" He could hear Merlin groan. "What?" he snapped.

"We've been going for three hours now, and no break. My backside is starting to hurt," Merlin's second sentence was far quieter than the first.

"Oh, your poor arse is tired, so we should have ourselves a break, should we?" Arthur asked, sardonically. The boy really knew how to irk him some - if not most - of the time.

"It's just... How much longer do you think it will be until we arrive?" Merlin's voice was closer now. Good. At least he was trying to move quicker.

"Take a look at the sun and figure it out."

Merlin finally came into Arthur's peripheral vision. He was staring up at the sky. "I'dunno. About two more hours?" he finally guessed.

"Very good, Merlin. See, you're not stupid all the time," the prince half-teased.

"At least I'm not a-" But he was quickly shushed by Arthur's fist flying into the air, signaling for all the men to stop and keep quiet. Merlin glanced wearily at Arthur and then followed his intense gaze further into the forest. Whatever the prince had heard, Merlin could not pick up on.

Then, an arrow whizzed through the air, and one of the men on horseback grunted as it pierced his chest. His horse bayed, and then everything fell into chaos.

Arthur leapt from his horse, and drew his sword in time to meet with another, just before it could clip his shoulder. Merlin was thrown from his horse in the frenzy, knocking his head on a tree. The men that had come with them were also in battle with bandits that all seemed to be crawling out of the trees. Arthur shouted for Merlin to get up, but the servant was out of it just enough to be rolling his head back and forth on the ground. Arthur jumped in to defend Merlin, as a bandit with a dagger quickly approached, aiming for the brunette's throat.

With a swift lop, the bandit's hand fell to the forest floor, dagger still in hand.

"Merlin, c'mon!" Arthur shouted, slapping his servant's cheek a couple of times. That seemed to bring his friend to, and Merlin jumped quickly to his feet once he realized what was going on all around them. They only had two men left standing, aside from themselves. The situation was less than promising. "We have to run," Arthur hissed.

"Run?" Merlin seemed appalled. "But they need our help!"

"They're trained for this kind of thing. We don't have a chance of saving ourselves, or Camelot, if we don't get to that clearing in time. They can buy us some time. Look around, Merlin, these men are savages. It's been less than five minutes and-" And now the other two men were dead. Arthur cursed and broke into a run. Merlin quickly followed suit, but not before causing a tree to fall in their wake, to buy them much needed time.

They ran until their chests were heaving, and everything hurt, and their vision was spotty. Arthur refused to sheath his sword for a good ten minutes before deciding that they hadn't been followed. But now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the prince winced in pain as he laid his sword down.

"Arthur? What is it?" Merlin was instantly at his master's side, concerned as more than just a servant.

"My armor, it's been pierced," the blonde hissed through gritted teeth. "Help me get it off, I need to assess what's been done." With the weight of the armor removed, Arthur gently pulled his tunic and chainmail aside to reveal a deep gash between his shoulder and his chest; one that widened with every movement of his arm. Without hesitation, Merlin removed his neckerchief, and pressed it to the oozing wound. Arthur growled in pain, but didn't pull away. He was already feeling dizzy with blood loss. "I'm not going to make it to the clearing, Merlin."

"What? No, of course you are! You just... We just need to catch our breaths, get our bearings, and then head on out. You said it yourself - we can't help Camelot if we don't make it!" Merlin kept pressing against Arthur's shoulder, trying to curb the flow of blood as much as possible. But even his red neckerchief was turning darker by the second.

"We don't even have any arrows, you dolt. We can't fire the calling without one."

"Can't we improvise?" Merlin was trying his damnedest to remain optimistic, and, reluctantly, Arthur had to give him credit where it was due.

He chuckled at how ridiculous it sounded. "Do you know how to make a bow and arrow from scratch?" Merlin remained silent. "There's nothing we can do anymore. We won't even make it back to Camelot by nightfall without the horses." They had all scattered in the chaos of the fight.

"So... So what are you saying, then? We just give up? We're done? That's it?" Merlin sounded angrier with each question.

"Ow. Be careful Merlin," Arthur scowled and shoved Merlin's hand away, so he could press at the soaking cloth himself. "That's exactly what I'm saying, because we don't stand a chance otherwise. I already feel sick, and you rightly cannot just carry me back to Camelot, now can you?" It was almost a challenge, but one that Arthur truly didn't want to see Merlin try and take up.

"What if the bandits come back?" Merlin sat back on his heels and glanced around them.

For once, Arthur was at a loss. He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone face off with the brutes that slaughtered all of his men. And heavens knew Merlin was absolutely useless. Arthur closed his eyes, just trying to close out the immense pain that was building in his right shoulder.

When Arthur opened his eyes again, the sky was painted with brilliant hues of orange and pink; streaked with thin, wispy clouds. Merlin was crouched a few feet away, stoking a fire. The prince's head was spinning. "Mer..." His lips fumbled over his words, feeling loose and almost disconnected. Merlin turned on his heel, and Arthur could have sworn he saw relief wash over his servant's face.

"You're awake," he breathed out. "I thought you had passed out for good."

Arthur frowned. "You mean you thought I was dead, and you decided to make camp here?" The distaste in his voice was strong. "You know, you are absolutely useless. How were you planning on getting back to Camelot?"

"I was going to wait until the morning, and then carry you back." Of course, there was always more that Merlin left unsaid.

Arthur scowled out loud. "Right... I'm all muscle, Merlin. You really thought you could carry me, deadweight, several hours, back to the castle?"

"Well, I would figure something out!"

"We're going to have to wait, anyway. It's dusk and it would be unwise to travel in the dark." Arthur sighed heavily as his head seemed to shiver. "This whole trip was clearly for naught. I'm going to die, failing my kingdom, all in one fell swoop." He almost felt drunk.

"About that... I was able to fire the signal, not long after you passed out." Merlin sounded slightly proud of himself.

Arthur couldn't fault him for that. But he was dubious. "And how exactly did you manage that?" He closed his eyes again. He didn't hear Merlin's answer.

"...thur..." "Arthur..."

The prince opened his eyes. The night was at its darkest; the moon was black. A shiver ran through his body. He was freezing.

"Arthur... Someone is coming." Merlin's voice was much closer now.

Arthur's senses sharpened and he tried to sit up. The movement made him want to vomit. He leaned back against he tree he was propped against with a grunt. "Have to... Have to hide..."

Merlin had gone quiet. Arthur's eyes opened slowly. There was a dark figure in the woods with them. Even with limited sight, something told Arthur that the Mercenary had arrived. Much quicker than he had expected.

Merlin was crouched protectively in front of the prince, facing off with the dark figure. They wore a mask over their mouth and their nose, so only their dark eyes were peering down at the two men. The Mercenary stepped forward, and Merlin - surprisingly - willingly moved aside. They pulled Merlin's drenched neckerchief to the side, and assessed the wound. They turned and said something to Merlin. The last thing Arthur saw was Merlin's eyes widening. His eyes closed again.