Inspired by the intro to Rascal Flatts's music video of What Hurts the Most. Not sure if I'm going to keep this as a one-shot or expand on it. What do you guys think? Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Merlin, nor the plot to Rascal Flatts' What Hurts the Most music video.

Thwack! Thwack thwack! Thwack!

Over and over again, bare fists met the punching bag, the flash of thunder erupting in his knuckles disappearing as quickly as it happened, only for it to return again in the next punch.

Thwack! Thwack!

Sweat beaded down his neck, his back, down his forehead into his eyes, which he ignored, but that wasn't the only salt water his eyes were fighting back. He persisted, punching and punching and hitting and slamming his fists into the bag, over and over and over, his hits becoming increasingly sloppier and inaccurate as his emotions threatened to overtake him.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Determined and agonized grunts were escaping his throat, his teeth were clenched. His fists were screaming by now, the pain shooting up to the back of his hand, to his wrist, and still he kept on hitting that damn bag.

Thwack thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

"Arthur."

The man immediately stilled, the abused bag swinging frantically following the onslaught.

"Get out," Arthur bit out coldly, his eyes never leaving the bag. "I don't want to see you. I never want to see you."

"Arthur, please."

Huffing, Arthur swung his fists again, meeting the center of the bag harshly.

Thwack thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

"Arthur..."

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

"Arthur!"

A hand clasped down firmly on his shoulder. And he snapped.

Arthur roared as he whirled around, thrusting his right fist forward. His aim was true, slamming the punch right into his father's face. Uther didn't make a sound as his head snapped back from the powerful hit.

The horrified astonishment that he actually punched his father in the face was lost to Arthur, instead consumed by something wilder, something driven by a strong thirst for revenge.

So he advanced, and he kept hitting Uther, hitting and punching and even kicking when Uther fell, screaming out all of the anger and hatred into the empty air around them.

"You did this! You made him leave!" Arthur screeched. "I hate you! You killed him! How could you do this to me?! You killed him!"

"Arthur, s-stop," Uther choked, raising his heads in a pitiful attempt to cover his bloody and bruised face from his son's fury. "I'm sorry!"

"You're not!" Arthur screamed, kicking him again; Uther doubled in on himself with a groan. "You wanted him gone! You hated him! Hated him! Admit it! What did he do to deserve this?! What did I do to deserve this!"

He gave a final shout and a final punch that sent Uther reeling back, collapsing completely to the ground, blood streaming from his mouth and from his mouth, his left eye swelled and puffy.

Panting, stiff breaths left the distraught man, who barely noticed the renewed throbbing in his hands as he focused solely on the cold suddenly seizing his heart, until it spread throughout his body rapidly, robbing him of all warmth, and he fell to his knees with a petrified gasp, his hands shaking in the fierce grip of his blonde locks between his fingers.

Uther gave a pained grunt at an attempt to lift himself to his knees. His corporate suit, now rumbled and dirtied, signified nothing here, his dignity and pride of a business man forgotten as he crawled slowly forward. He was only a father now, whose only goal was to reach his distressed son.

"Arthur," he murmured, still crawling forward.

A sob wrenched its way through Arthur's throat, almost rendering him speechless and curling into himself as his heart thudded inside his rib-cage overwhelmingly.

"I hate you," Arthur wailed. "If you hadn't... If you... He's dead. Oh my God, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!"

Cries of pain, sorrow, anger, despair, it all came pouring out as Arthur sobbed, screamed, hit the floor and yanked his hair as he yelled and bellowed at the world's cruelest injustice, at how it just wasn't fair.

Uther finally reached his son, beyond tears at the sight of his son's grief. And Arthur didn't even bother to fight off the hands, slightly slicked with blood, that grabbed his bare biceps with a foreign gentleness, or the form of Uther lowering himself until his father's forehead lay on the back of his neck.

The bag kept swinging as the room echoed with Arthur's tears.

What do you guys think? Just as a side-note, Arthur is talking about Merlin, even thought he never directly says it.