Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: No one touched his king!
Warnings: Non-graphic violence
Word Count: 984
Author's Notes:Running a bit late here...
Merlin cursed under his breath as he heard Arthur let out a shout of pain. He knew what the king could withstand, he knew what Arthur could – and would – go through before he let so much as a whisper of pain escape him. To hear him yell like that meant that something was truly wrong. The time for games was over, Merlin couldn’t help but note as he stared around the guards surrounding him.
It had just been an ordinary patrol when they had been set upon by bandits. Arthur would claim that he had held most of them off but Merlin knew differently. Even so, they had managed to fight them back and had just been prepared to make their escape when Merlin had felt it. It was as if the warmth had been sucked out of the air and he just knew that it could only mean that seriously dark magic was about to be used. He didn’t even have time to warn Arthur of the danger when pain slammed into the back of his skull with such intensity that Merlin had been unable to stop the slight scream from making it past his lips.
He vaguely recalled Arthur yelling his name, but after that, nothing.
At least, not until he had woken up in a dingy cell, chains fastened around his wrists and causing him to be suspended from the ceiling. A rush of relief – which seemed ironic considering the situation – had shot through him at seeing Arthur chained in the same way opposite him. They wouldn’t shackle a dead man. It meant that Merlin hadn’t yet failed, that they still had a chance of getting out of this.
That chance, however, diminished almost entirely when some of the same thugs that had set upon them in the forest came in and dragged Arthur down from his chains. Merlin had seen them rebind the king before bustling him out of the room. Merlin knew that he had to keep his secret, at least for the time being. That dark magic had been strong, he wasn’t sure if he could combat it. Until he knew what they were dealing with, he couldn’t let anyone know what he could do and he had simply swallowed hard as more of the men surrounded him.
The only blessing about the smallness of the cell was that only three men could fit around his chained body, so he only had to endure the hits, kicks, slaps and punches of those three. Merlin had simply bit his lip and forced his magic down, knowing that he needed to be back with Arthur before he let them find out who they were dealing with. After all, if they saw him as a threat and Merlin couldn’t get to Arthur in time, he knew full well that could just be signing the prince’s death warrant. If there was one thing Merlin had grown accustomed to during his years in Camelot, it was taking abuse to keep his king safe.
He was bordering on falling unconscious when he heard Arthur. Merlin rolled his eyes – he couldn’t even escape the pain without Arthur having to go and cause trouble. But in the same instant, his ability to hold back his magic snapped.
His king, his destiny was in danger and there was no way that Merlin was simply going to hang here and let it happen.
A lucky thug managed to land one last punch on Merlin’s midriff, but it was the last thing he did. It was the last thing that any of the men in his cell did as a brilliant white light shot from the warlock. It ripped through the room, the walls letting out dust as the magic crashed into it. At the same time, the chains holding Merlin simply disintegrated and he dropped to the floor. The adrenaline was masking any pain and the warlock landed in a tight crouch before slowly rising, his eyes burning a brilliant gold.
The cell door was torn from its hinges as Merlin simply glared at it and he moved silently out into the corridor beyond. It had fallen silent, but Merlin knew that was not necessarily a good thing. A tugging sensation in his gut told him which way to go in order to find his king and Merlin knew better than to not listen to it.
Every foe that tried to approach him was blasted back just by Merlin jerking his chin towards them. The magic had consumed him, the only thought in his head was that he had to get to Arthur. The feeling grew stronger the further down the corridor he walked, but when he suddenly had the urge to go through the next door on the right, Merlin knew he had to go that way.
That door too offered no resistance as the warlock entered. Men were standing in a circle, kicking a slumped form in the middle. Merlin’s palms shot towards the group and within seconds, they all had been flung so hard in different directions that the walls seemed to shake with the force of the impact. While his eyes continued to glow, Merlin felt his breath catch as he realised the slumped form was none other than Arthur. He was unconscious and as Merlin approached, he realised that the man’s arm was completely shattered.
A primitive growl escaped Merlin’s throat and this time, no wall could stand against him. The entire building and everyone in it simply turned to dust, a protective shield over Arthur stopping anything from hitting him.
Merlin wondered what it would take for people to learn that the king was his and his alone. Anyone tampering with his destiny were going to find out the hard way that Merlin’s normal calm demeanour was just a front.
If someone hurt Arthur, they felt his magic. They felt his wrath.