Rescuing Arthur
Title: Rescuing Arthur
Author: KatelynnLynn
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: Slight spoilers for 1.7, Gates of Avalon
Summary: Missing scene from Gates of Avalon. Just how did Arthur go from not breathing to being fine Camelot?
Arthur was heavier than he looked, especially when he was all dead weight, dressed in chain mail, and water-logged. Merlin’s joints protested mightily as he dragged the unconscious prince to shore, and even more as he hoisted Arthur up onto the shore.
It was only as he lay, panting on the ground next to Arthur that he realized the young prince wasn’t breathing.
His blood ran cold, and Merlin’s arms, already covered in goosebumps from the cold air, shook as they held him up. He crawled to Arthur and knelt over him, pressing his ear to where his friend’s heart should have been beating. It was there, but it was faint.
Blind panic set over the young sorcerer, causing his mind to draw a blank as to any resuscitation spells he might have ever learned.
‘Water,’ Merlin thought frantically. ‘He must have water in his lungs.’
He did the only thing he could think of, magic temporarily pushed aside. He didn’t dare use it--he didn’t know if he could control it, with his mind racing like this.
Plugging Arthur’s nose, Merlin pressed his lips to the prince’s, breathing air into Arthur’s lungs.
Nothing happened.
Merlin pressed on the prince’s chest, attempting to get the lungs to expel the water stuck in them. A trickle ran down the prince’s chin from his mouth, but not much more.
Merlin plugged Arthur’s nose again, pressing their mouths together another time and blowing still more air into his friend’s body.
Arthur coughed and Merlin backed off quickly, watching as his friend rolled over and heaved the liquid from himself. Merlin waited as Arthur’s coughs subsided, and the young prince lay panting on the shore beside him. He coughed one last time.
“Are you alright?”
The prince shot up, reaching for the sword at his side, and turned to fight Merlin, who’s eyes were watching the blade in front of his pale face warily. Arthur wobbled, dropping the sword, and Merlin stood quickly to help him.
“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was cracked. He brought a hand to his face, holding his forehead. “I think I stood too quickly.” He coughed, and Merlin smiled in relief. “What happened? My head aches in the worst way.”
“Perhaps you ought to sit,” Merlin said, helping his friend to the ground again. “How do you feel?”
Arthur licked his lips, and Merlin’s mind wondered briefly what they would feel like pressed against his now, warm and soft, not cold like they had been just moments ago. His eyes widened slightly at the unbidden thought, and he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. Now was not the time for such things.
“Awful. You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here? Why am I here? What happened?” Arthur eyed Merlin’s face. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Merlin rather resented how breathily his voice came out. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m fine.” Arthur’s hand reached towards Merlin’s face, and the wizard’s eyes closed involuntarily. There was a tug on his hair, and he opened his eyes to see Arthur attempting to fling a wet piece of seaweed from his equally wet finger.
Merlin sighed, picked up the staff laying next to him, and hit the distracted prince in the back of the head with it.
Back to Camelot, then.