Arthur smiled lovingly, the campfire warming his cold skin, as he thought of his Queen and his little heir to be- everything was in place, everything was almost perfect, and Arthur counted his blessings. Guinevere was radiant, gliding giddily along corridors and through the town, fanatic admirers following in her wake; the entire kingdom was excited for the birth of Camelot's heir, hoping for, not a girl or boy, but a healthy, live child, strong, one to rule in place when their time came. The knights were on a hunting trip, searching for the elusive lycanthrope, which only came out at midnight- a man cursed to change into a bloodthirsty, ravenous wolf which had been killing local cattle and attacking people in the lower town, leaving them with wounds like nobody had ever known before, huge gashes and lumps of flesh just torn off. Arthur was adamant, against the queen's wishes, that he accompany the knights on the quest, and, thinking of her, he missed her desperately. It was lonely without Merlin, too, but Arthur knew that elsewhere, he was doing a service to the people- as he thought of times passed, Sir Percival called out, startling him into alertness once more. "Sire!" A piercing howl shattered the quiet, and Arthur leapt up, rushing to where his knights were gathered, swords out, shields up against the most horrifying beast anyone had ever seen. It was huge, gigantic, its claws like daggers, razor-sharp teeth bared menacingly in a growl, grey hair covering its back; its eyes were blood red, and it looked hungry. "Hold," Arthur said uncertainly as the creature growled and stepped nearer; "Hold," he repeated, preparing to attack; Before he had the chance to say more, the creature struck, leaping forwards and knocking him down as the knights rushed to his defence, striking and wounding the creature, which whined pitifully and began to stagger away; Sir Leon and Sir Percival attended the king as the others followed the creature who, like Arthur, was badly wounded- blood was soaking through his chainmail, and he was unconscious.
It would take time to get back to Camelot, back to Merlin, time that they were up against- they couldn't lose their king, not now, not so soon after everything that had happened.
"What should we do?," Percival asked, unsure; Leon began to lift the king's clothing, revealing a gash many inches long and deep, which was bleeding heavily. "We must stop the bleeding. He'll be dead by dawn if we don't." They applied pressure using their cloaks, which they knotted clumsily over the injury, then almost simultaneously had the same thought. "He's not able to travel," Percival stated, "One of us must stay here and watch over him; the other must go back to Camelot, and fetch the physician." Sir Leon gathered himself and rose, looking every bit the loyal knight."I shall go. I shall ride through the night, I will not stop until I reach Camelot."
"Safe journey, Leon." They shared a look, both wondering how this latest blow would affect the queen, who had only recently come back to them, before Sir Leon went to the horses and Sir Percival hoisted the king up and back into their camp, out of the way and in the warm, praying for the safe return of the other knights, and the survival of the king.