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“I’ll cover our tracks, you keep going.” There it was, the words that Arthur dreaded to hear. No, No . This couldn’t be happening. How was Merlin supposed to cover their tracks from more than fifty southorn men?
What was Arthur supposed to do if Merlin didn’t return?
“You can’t.” Arthur choked out, but for Merlin it would have looked like Arthur was underestimating him, but no no. Arthur just didn’t want his friend, -the only one remaining- to run face first towards a suicide mission.
“Don’t be stupid.” Merlin said, and there was a smile on his lips and a promise in his eyes, so Arthur pulled himself together.
Merlin was going to come back. Arthur just had to let him go to cover their tracks. At the front of the tunnel, there was shuffling of feet. Guinev— Tristan and others were waiting for them.
“How are you going to cover our tracks?” Arthur had to ask, because while he was an expert hunter, he knew that there was no way no one would not notice their trail and trace them back to the tunnels.
Merlin just shrugged, but his shoulders were tense, mirroring Arthur’s own anxiety.
“Create a distraction,” Merlin said, and there was a secret smile on his face that Arthur never got to figure out in the last seven years he had known his friend. “Maybe I’ll create a fire.”
Arthur nodded, reluctantly. That made sense. “A small fire then.” He clapped the younger man on his shoulder, as he had done many times before. Please Merlin, “Don’t get killed,” I can’t lose you too.
Merlin nodded, and then he was off towards the way they came. Arthur tried to calm himself, Merlin was going to be fine. He was always resourceful.
But—
But there were more than four dozen men and Merlin was alone with no means to light a fire.
How was he going to cause a distraction?
Arthur’s heart drummed beneath his ribcage.
No, no. He wasn’t going to lose Merlin.
He huffed a breath, turned around, and went back the way they came.
When he finally managed to find himself at the entrance of the cave, destruction met his eyes. The smell of burning flesh and the raw screams that echoed in his ears were all too familiar.
And then, at the far end, among the burning trees, flaming the fires, was the same creature of destruction.
A fire breathing dragon.
Arthur pushed down the burning rage that he felt underneath his ribs. No, no. Rage would come later. Nightmares would come later.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin, his back digging into the edges of the cave, hidden in an alcove.
Gritting his teeth, and curling his fingers around the sword, Arthur found his way towards the scrawny, lanky servant, grimly observing the flames, the screaming and the dragon.
“Merlin,” Arthur grunted out, pushing down, down, down the rage that he felt. Later. Rage would be for later. “A small fire. I said set a small fire. This is not small ”
The younger man jumped a foot in the air at Arthur’s voice. Good. He should be. But when the man he regarded as a brother finally looked back at Arthur, he did not expect to see the terror that swrilled among Merlin’s blue gold iries.