The clanging of sheathed swords against chain metal was the only indication he had that the guards were scrambling to fulfill his orders. Unintelligible shouting echoed through the halls and the sound of retreating footsteps multiplied. A few of the large, imposing figures had tried to enter his chambers, only to have a very panicked, very angry king screaming at them for their lack of haste. Needless to say, they left quickly to join the hunt for the Court Physician.

The silence was as deafening as the chaos.

The raven-haired man in front of him gazed about in puzzlement, as if everything was backwards. His feet regularly changed positions, trying, but failing, to find a way to keep the mass they supported still. Suddenly, bright blue orbs rolled back in their sockets and his manservant's knees buckled. Leaping forward, the king heaved the now limp body of his friend onto his shoulders and deposited him on top of the still warm bed, reminding him of just how cold the boy was. He dimly remembered Gaius lecturing him on how to deal with prolonged exposure to the frozen air. Taking in the state of his clothing, Arthur found that the only article of Merlin's attire that was suited to the winter weather was his neckerchief. The rest might as well be sucking out whatever heat he was naturally generating.

They had to go.

Quickly stripping the figure of his deleterious garments, besides that of his smallclothes, Arthur was horrified by what he saw. Merlin's ribs protruded greatly from the porcelain skin of his chest. But, not only was this porcelain riddled with such abnormal ridges, it also seemed to have been smashed and re-pieced together in the hope that it would stay so; Burns, blade cuts, and marks that could only be the work of sorcery littered his skin, as numerous as rabbits in spring.

A shuddering breath brought him out of his gawking. Shoving his dark thoughts and questions to the back of his mind, he hurriedly gathered his blankets from the floor, where he had thrown them in his rush to be of assistance to the boy. Using all the speed he had gained from his many sword fights and knightly training sessions, he wrapped the pale form up snuggly.

Feeling there was nothing more for him to do, Arthur quickly donned his casual attire, as best he could without assistance, in case the physician were to burst in. Despite his best efforts, a few buttons on his vest remained askew and what was tucked in on one side wasn't on the other. In light of the current situation, he could hardly care less.

Walking closer to the side of the bed to check on the object of his worries, Arthur remembered a few words from the old medic.

'Shivering is the body's way of trying to warm itself. Once a person's body, exposed to extremely cold temperatures, stops trying to shiver, their life could very well end. They will have lost the ability to quickly produce heat. They will need more than just a blanket or a nearby fire, mind you.'

Arthur unwrapped the boy from the covers and grabbed his ice-cold hands. No shaking occurred. Thinking back, Arthur never once felt him shiver. Not even when he had first grasped his wrist in concern.