Description
Knife. Table. Throat. Instantly alert, adrenaline flooding through him, Arthur's body automatically moved in time with his thoughts, his hand fisting around the handle of the knife before his mind registered that the intruder was talking. "Arthur, stop- it's me, it's Percival-" Arthur's mind registered the voice and he dropped the knife, thankfully before he reached phase three. He bolted upright as Percival's hands fell off his shoulders, leaving him only able to guess where his knight was in the dark. "Percival- what're you doing here?" He flung off the covers and swung his feet over the edge, the panicked adrenaline slowly ebbing from his veins, leaving him with only a clear head. He reached for the scarlet shirt on the bedside table. Percival wouldn't have woken him unless it was important. "We weren't sure what else to do, Sire, it's Merlin." Important, indeed. Or, the five times Arthur and his knights try to help Merlin and the one time Merlin realizes he deserves help too.
The Time Six Knights Nearly Had A Heart Attack
