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Boadicea's weight was hauled off him with no more than a few strangled grunts, the rushed demand of, "Hurry, Charles," and then Arthur had felt warm, strong arms wrap around under his armpits, dragging him out of danger as Boadicea was placed onto the dusty ground. Arthur had barely processed anything, not even listened well enough to know the owner of the other voice who had saved his life, looking up to meet dark eyes just as scared as they'd first met those few years ago.
And he thinks of Javier.