Worth This
Title: Worth This
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 311
Warnings: Character death
Arthur really should drink less at feasts.
Because, as it happened, that one night, when someone came at him with a knife, he didn’t react fast enough. One minute he was talking to Morgana. The next there was a dagger at his throat.
And the next, Merlin was there, tackling the would-be assassin to the ground. Arthur turns to see the brief struggle, and hear someone cry out; then two guards drag the man away. His knife clatters to the floor, and there’s blood on the blade.
He looks at his attacker. He doesn’t seem to be hurt. And then he turns just in time to see Merlin fall to his knees, looking in shock at the blood on his hands.
He’s there in an instant. Gaius arrives a moment later.
“Merlin, let me see,” he says, moving Merlin’s hands out of the way.
Then Uther is standing over them. “Is there anything you can do?” he says to Gaius, who looks up and shakes his head. Uther turns back to Merlin. “You have my thanks,” he says, and Merlin nods once, briefly, then slumps backwards.
Arthur catches him (of course).
This is silly. Of course Merlin will recover. It’s nothing, isn’t it? He’s seen knights live through worse than this.
But somehow he’s not sure that’s true.
“Merlin,” he says. “Merlin, what did you do that for, you idiot? What did you go and do that for, Merlin?”
Merlin frowns up at him. “Because,” he says, with obvious difficulty. He swallows, then takes a breath. “Because you’re worth this.”
Then his head falls back against Arthur’s arm.
“No,” says Arthur. “No, I’m not, Merlin, I’m not. Merlin, don’t, Merlin, don’t do this, you- you-”
He breaks off, and chokes back a sob.
Merlin’s not breathing. And Arthur doesn’t feel anything except emptiness.
“I’m not, Merlin,” he whispers. “I’m really not.”
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 311
Warnings: Character death
Arthur really should drink less at feasts.
Because, as it happened, that one night, when someone came at him with a knife, he didn’t react fast enough. One minute he was talking to Morgana. The next there was a dagger at his throat.
And the next, Merlin was there, tackling the would-be assassin to the ground. Arthur turns to see the brief struggle, and hear someone cry out; then two guards drag the man away. His knife clatters to the floor, and there’s blood on the blade.
He looks at his attacker. He doesn’t seem to be hurt. And then he turns just in time to see Merlin fall to his knees, looking in shock at the blood on his hands.
He’s there in an instant. Gaius arrives a moment later.
“Merlin, let me see,” he says, moving Merlin’s hands out of the way.
Then Uther is standing over them. “Is there anything you can do?” he says to Gaius, who looks up and shakes his head. Uther turns back to Merlin. “You have my thanks,” he says, and Merlin nods once, briefly, then slumps backwards.
Arthur catches him (of course).
This is silly. Of course Merlin will recover. It’s nothing, isn’t it? He’s seen knights live through worse than this.
But somehow he’s not sure that’s true.
“Merlin,” he says. “Merlin, what did you do that for, you idiot? What did you go and do that for, Merlin?”
Merlin frowns up at him. “Because,” he says, with obvious difficulty. He swallows, then takes a breath. “Because you’re worth this.”
Then his head falls back against Arthur’s arm.
“No,” says Arthur. “No, I’m not, Merlin, I’m not. Merlin, don’t, Merlin, don’t do this, you- you-”
He breaks off, and chokes back a sob.
Merlin’s not breathing. And Arthur doesn’t feel anything except emptiness.
“I’m not, Merlin,” he whispers. “I’m really not.”