Do No Harm
Balinor had no idea where those children had come from, but he couldn't mistake the urgency in the boy's tone.
"My friend! He's sick! He needs help!"
He had spent twenty years running away from men sent to kill him, hunted like an animal, trapped by laws that made him a criminal for who he was, and yet, he had no doubt that this wasn't a trap meant to catch him disarmed.
The blond boy was clearly badly wounded, and the dark haired one had a desperate edge to his voice that told him that without his help, they'd surely die. Just boys, too young to be sent for him, too young to even know anything about him.
"Show me, boy!"
The dark haired kid just stared at him, seeming surprised that he was willing to help. Balinor wondered how much of a savage he looked, it had been a long while since he last rode out and saw other people. Still, it wouldn't help his friend to being too cautious now; if they had been aware of the danger later, he wouldn't have been hurt and wouldn't need the care of a stranger.
"What are you waiting for? Fetch him!"
There was something in the young man's face that gave Balinor a clue of his identity. Arthur had his mother's hair, but his father's eyes, and there was no doubt that this boy was the prince of Camelot. He looked at the other young man, and decided against asking anything.
He hated all the Pendragons, and hated the people that allowed them to rule, but this was just a young man, in need of healing, at his mercy, and he couldn't turn away. He couldn't deny the much needed help, even if he thought he'd be glad to see Uther losing his family as Balinor had lost his.
He had to help the prince, no questions asked.
Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurh- hæle bræd.