3. Just an accident

"I still don't know why I allowed you to come" Gaius said nervously but Merlin only shrugged. "Who has died and sentenced me to a life-time of incarceration? Besides, Arthur said that I should."

"He said that you could if I see fit. Not quite the same thing. And I am still not sure that I do see it fit. So don't you try my patience."

"I am merely supposed to stay out of sight of certain people."

"Really, sometimes I doubt the Prince knows what he's doing. How should you stay out of sight in one of the biggest crowds I've ever seen swarming over a mere training field? Unbelievable that the match was announced only last night."

"They've all come to see their Prince putting his illustrious Cousin into his shoes. Nobody will notice poor little me."

Gaius boxed the younger man's head irritably. "You and your ravings about Hortensius, you are a pain in the neck. Give it a rest, will you? Arthur wants his Cousin to be treated with all due respect and the Prince knows what he's doing."

"My point exactly" Merlin replied, accusingly rubbing the back of his head. "But since when have you regained this positive opinion? Only a moment ago you said exactly the opposite..."

"Oh, do shut up, Merlin. Sometimes you could make an angel cry for sheer despair about you."

Gaius would have liked to say so much more but by now they had reached the part of the knights' quarters where Arthur was getting ready for the match. Confidently Merlin grinned at the healer and dived into the small shelter. He opened his mouth to greet his friend and master when the happy 'Loo k-I-am-back-smile' fell from his face at the sight of Uther Pendragon's back. Quickly the warlock vanished behind the nearest stack of clothes and became as invisible as possible, while furtively peeping through a gap in the heap of cloaks and shirts that hung on the wooden rail.

"Well, then, Arthur" the King said. "Our men against the knights of Becco's escort. It's a pity we have only enough men present for three pairings. But your fight against your Cousin as a fourth round will make up for that, won't it? Remember this tournament some years ago, when you won all rounds single-handed? I expect no less from you and our men today."

For a farewell he squeezed his son's shoulder, smiling radiantly. "We can't have these plumed Gaulish cockerels go back home telling tales about our weaknesses, can we? I know you'll do me proud, my son."

Arthur swallowed painfully. "Father, what I wanted to say...about yesterday morning... I am sorry I behaved like that, I don't know what possessed me..."

"We will say no more of it. Nor of this gossip about you Matilda keeps giving me. I will not believe a word of it."

Merlin wished for a hole in the ground as Uther now pulled his son's head towards his until their foreheads met. "Arthur, I know these have been difficult times for you, but they are over, I assure you. It's still you and me against the rest of the world, is it not, my boy?"

"Yes, father. Always."

"Good. Good. I know I can rely on you. And remember, four victorious rounds for Camelot, not one less."

With an unreadable face Arthur watched his father leave. Was he glad? Worried? Ashamed? Or was that sadness in his features?

Merlin had thought that he knew his royal friend by now, through and through. But this mood was a novelty even to the Prince's probably closest friend. But then, if one thought of what Arthur was keeping from Uther; what he had been up to as a regent, especially during last winter...

"Should your father ever find out what you have done on behalf of the Druids" the warlock thought "I may yet regret that I hindered Morgana when she tried to murder him."

Angrily Merlin shook his head. What was he thinking? This was utter nonsense!

For a moment the warlock pondered just to jump out of his hiding-place – ta-daah - and help his friend get ready, as he had originally planned, thinking that the Prince's place was presumably the safest to keep out of sight of 'certain people'. But now, kept in place by some instinct inexplicable even to him self, Merlin stayed where he was and let Arthur finish his preparations on his own.

One thing was certain – the Prince was distracted by something. Otherwise it would have been impossible to sneak in on him like that. Merlin flinched when he heard Arthur actually muttering to himself, something he hated to do, to his servant's certain knowledge.

"This isn't going very well" the Prince told himself. "Likely as not this will go awry." He whistled soundlessly under his breath. "Then fare thee well, dear Camelot. Would be just as well. I'd never put a sword to a child's throat again." With these words he resolutely grabbed his gloves and hurried out, unknowingly leaving a mortified warlock behind.

Only now Merlin knew that this had been what he had wanted to gain by staying hidden. For once a clear insight into what Arthur really felt. Yes, they were friends by now, real friends, for all the official distance of status and rank. But there was another distance between them, one only Merlin was aware of. His royal friend was secretive of nature. For all his friendliness and usual air of gaiety and gallant light-heartedness, Camelot's Prince rarely ever allowed anyone to look into his soul.

So Arthur was perfectly aware that the provisions he had had delivered to the starving Druid families during last winter's plight had put a noose around his neck. A noose that had been all the more pulled tight by the fact that during the last nine months not one case of sorcery or exerting magic had been tried or even registered. It was as if the whole realm had suddenly developed the ability to read her Prince's thoughts. Three, only three denunciations had been made of evil sorcery and in all three cases a thorough investigation, carried out by Arthur's knights by his direct command, had shown jealousy or greed or a hidden grudge as the motive behind the false accusations.

If Arthur had officially lifted the ban on magic, the result could not have been different.

Uther wouldn't like that. He wouldn't like that at all.

The next second Merlin tried to mentally shrug off these uncomfortable thoughts. After all, the Crown Council had been informed of Arthur's measures. They had unanimously condoned the Prince's ideas of a peace policy towards the Druids. And so far Uther had yet to see the first registry entry of the deliveries that had been made by order of the Crown Prince of Camelot. And yet...

After last night's talks, when Ravenclaw, some of his fellow Council Members and old Geoffrey – of all people! – had met in Gaius' quarters, Merlin wasn't altogether sure that the Council was above a sudden case of collective amnesia, if worse should come to worse. Who would have thought that old, distinguished Ravenclaw could be out on a limb and find himself abandoned by his colleagues.

"It was the Prince's decision to make no decision at all" one of the others had summarized their thoughts "Arthur didn't want to take the throne while he was standing on high moral ground, with his old man being out of business for everyone to see. Now that old Uther is up and about again, it's too late. Too many will jump at the opportunity to yell 'treason' when the time comes to choose between father and son. They will all hope to pick up a few crumbs of the spoils that are to be haggled over if Camelot is torn apart."

Ravenclaw's objections had been made of solid reason but lacked persuasive power. "We all agreed that Uther's ongoing purge of everything that smells of magic has brought more sorrow and tribulations to Camelot than it was worth. The last thing anyone of us can wish for is a new alliance of magicians against Camelot. Enough is enough. So we all agreed that this absurd persecution of the Druids should come to an end."

The others had only sneered at that. "Agreed. Agreed. That gags me with a spoon. What was there to agree?" the former speaker had once more said what they all had felt. "The King had obviously lost it and we thought we had the authority of the legal regent to back us up. What's left of that now? Nothing! And that's all this talk is leading to – nothing. Well, I for one have risked enough for a young whelp who simply cannot make up his mind." The man had shoved back his chair with a violent push and swept past Ravenclaw and Geoffrey. Already halfway out, he had hissed over his shoulder "the men for the expedition to the Southern border the boy can have, and for free, just as he asked. But that's it, Ravenclaw. After that he's on his own."

And yet, for all the viciousness of this remark, it had been the last man's parting words that had given Merlin the creep. "I say it wasn't a coincidence, this invitation to the King's sister" the man had said. "The Lady Matilda has always known on which side the bread is buttered. Uther is a shrewd old bastard, for all his fooling around in personal matters. His daughter has taken the piss out of him. He will not allow his boy to do the same. What better time to show his son and heir that there is a second Pendragon Prince in the race, eh?"

Merlin had been so dumbfounded after that, he had hardly had time to jump into his bed and dive under his blanket before Gaius had cautiously opened the door to his room. "Merlin? Are you awake?"

Naturally the warlock had not been awake. Merlin would never lie to Gaius, but pretending to be asleep..., well, sometimes it couldn't be avoided.

"He's out as a light" a relieved Gaius had said to Geoffrey. "When I allowed you to come here after your meeting with Arthur, I thought it would be for a last ale and some quiet company, not for a conspirational gathering..."

The rest of Gaius' and Geoffrey's conversation had been unintelligible for Merlin and he had been grateful for it. For the remaining hours of the night he had tried to cope with what he had heard. In the end he had decided to keep out of this. After all Arthur was no fool. Only a dollop-head, at times. A clodpole. A prat. But no fool. Hopefully not.

And Merlin had been that proud of his Prince when he had stretched out his hand to the Druids in peace, trying to end this endless spiral of persecution of magic and the repercussions caused by magicians plotting Camelot's downfall in turn.

Now, knowing from his friend's own lips that the Prince himself apparently was at a loss of what to do to avoid disaster, a very thoughtful Merlin went back to Gaius, to watch the impromptu jousting match. "And what's bugging you?" the healer asked at the sight of the warlock. "Look at your face. Long as a fiddle."

"It's Uther. He..., oh, never mind. I must have under-slept a little, for all my turning in early last night." The bell announced the beginning of the match. Merlin's attention was only partly with the actual fighting, most of all he pondered what Uther's words meant. Was there still hope that he would regain his senses and see what tremendous success Arthur's regency had been so far? Or would his paranoia come back to overwhelm him; would he only see his second child betraying him as his first one had done?

Gaius' sudden angry outcry brought the warlock back to the scene at hand. He looked up just in time to see the Gaulish knight throw his Camelot counterpart with one well aimed hit of his lance. Well, so much for the second of the four rounds. Obviously the first one had also been a Gaulish victory. In a reflex-reaction the warlock looked at Uther. What he saw on the King's face sickened him. With his gaze focused on his son's back, Uther's eyes were as cold as ice, expressing an insensible rage that seemed almost palpable. Merlin was a bit surprised that Arthur, waiting at the field's side for his turn to fight, did not turn to defend himself. Surely he had to feel these eyes stabbing into his back?

Fortunately the next round went to Camelot. Actually Sir Leon won the hosts' an extra round. He threw his opponent, but Becco's liegeman demanded an immediate rematch. Swiftly, elegantly Leon's horse jumped into action a second time, build up speed, added its strength to the precise, effective use its master made of his lance and the other knight was thrown again.
This time the Gaulish needed his servant instead of a rematch.

The now fifth round ended in a stand-off, as both knights were thrown, with neither them nor their mounts being in a shape to continue the match.

"The King isn't enjoying himself" Merlin said awkwardly.

Gaius snorted. "He should know better than to expect wonders from Arthur's men. Our knights have been on patrol while the Gaulish were in bed or on the training ground."

The bell that announced the last round, the fight between Camelot's Crown Prince and his Cousin, prevented them from talking further. Merlin saw the Comte d'Auvergne's jaws tense angrily at the sight of Arthur. The Prince, for no obvious reason, was grinning broadly and pointedly patting Stormcloud's neck. The stallion was prancing and showing off his muscles. His fur was virtually gleaming with health, his tail had obviously been combed, as had his mane, and his hooves had been polished. Merlin felt a pang of idiotic jealousy. He had often taken care of the magnificent animal but never with such results. Whoever had bridled up the stallion this time had done a terrific job.

As always Arthur sat in the saddle easily and relaxed, as if being on horse back was more natural to him than standing on his own two feet. Still grinning broadly he took up his lance and closed his helmet. Without further ado, both knights spurred their horses and rode towards each other.

Arthur hit his aim with perfect ease and dear Becco went flying. Uther's face relaxed a bit while he nodded at his passing son as the Crown Prince made his way back to his own stand. There he waited for a moment, Stormcloud still prancing, full of temperament and fire. Obviously some of his master's triumph was transferred to the experienced battle horse. They had both done very well and the horse knew it.

Gaius sighed when the heralds announced a rematch. "Can't the bloody wretch say that this is enough now?" and it wasn't clear if he spoke of the Comte or of the King, who was looking more than pleased. If Arthur would win the rematch it would be four victories for Camelot's lances against the two that went to the Auvergne, while the guests would still come out with their honour intact. To offer an immediate rematch after one had been thrown at top speed by a lance was nothing even a well seasoned knight would do lightly. And Becco was only two years Arthur's senior.

"Call it a day, Uther" Gaius muttered impatiently. "If your son has got more than two hours sleep yesterday it'd be a miracle."

However, the King did no such thing and dutifully Arthur took up a new lance. Both knights made ready again, then they spurred their horses.

Stormcloud sprang into action as magnificently as he had done before and everybody relaxed. Everybody but the Comtesse. It seemed to Merlin that Matilda was more than a bit worried when her son once more rode against his opponent. She wrung her hands desperately and narrowed her eyes. One might almost feel pity for the handkerchief or whatever piece of cloth she held in her left hand, squeezing it mercilessly.

"What the hell..." somebody yelled and Merlin saw Stormcloud stumble, loosing his balance, pushing his rider towards the barrier between the two knights. Arthur's lance lost it's aim and his left arm went up in an instinctive attempt to regain his seating, opening his left flank to his opponent's lance.

"Rise your lance, you idiot" Gaius screamed aghast while the Comte d'Auvergne approached his Cousin. Instead the lance hit Arthur's chest with a sickeningly soft sound. That hadn't sounded like a crash of metal against metal. However, Merlin had no time to think about that. His friend, instead of being thrown to the side, began to slip from his mount to hit the ground head first, while the grey stallion was stumbling again, threatening to bury his rider beneath his heavy body any moment.

Without thinking Merlin muttered the first spells that came to his mind.

Time slowed down. Miraculously Arthur's desperately brandishing hand found the saddlehorn and held fast while the horse regained his footing and finally came to a halt, heavily panting and covered in sweat and foam. Slowly Arthur slipped off his mount and fell to the ground where he lay still.

Merlin felt his heart racing while he ran to his friend's side at lightning speed. "Gods, no" he thought. "No, no, no. No! To hell with the godforsaken, hare-brained bastard of a Cousin."

The warlock, unaware of the group of people that reached the Prince in the same moment as he did, fell to his knees at his friend's side. Blood covered Arthur's chest and more continued to pulse out of a wide gash in the armour. The Prince's face was white as chalk, his eyes under the half-closed lids were turned upwards, his body was shaking violently and for a terrible moment the young wizard was sure that he had come too late. That he was watching his friend's last moments on earth, unable to do anything.

"We have to bring him inside as soon as possible." Gaius' strained voice behind him, then some hands that lifted Arthur's now limp body and carried it away from the turmoil of terrified, anxious or just perversely excited people, to the blessed near-silence and solitude of the Prince's chamber in the knights' quarters.

"Is there anything we can do, Gaius?" Leon, Gwaine and Elyan were panting heavily, looking helplessly from Arthur to the physician and back again. "Keep everybody out as long as I am examining him" the healer replied coarsely. "And I mean, everybody. Yesterday, if you please!"

As soon as he was alone in the shelter, except for his unconscious patient and the young warlock, Gaius tried to loosen Arthur's armour. Merlin helped him to rip the metal plates off his patient's body and gasped at the sight of the ghastly wound in the Prince's chest. "Gaius, how should you..."

"Guard the door."

"What?"

"Just do it, Merlin!"

The warlock backed off towards the entrance but he kept his eyes on the healer's back, only to flinch violently when he heard his old friend mutter something in the ancient language of the old religion. For a split second Arthur's chest and shoulder glowed in a warm, golden light and the unconscious Prince drew a deep breath before he sank back on the cot once more. "Quick, Merlin. Help me dress this wound."

The warlock jumped back to the cot in an instant. "How could you..."

"Press this on the remaining wound" Gaius cut him short, pressing a clean piece of cloth into Merlin's hand, drenched with something that smelled strongly. The warlock did as he was told. With disbelieving eyes he saw that the wound in Arthur's chest had half closed. The more dangerous part of it, the part which had been sickeningly close to the heart, was simply gone. On the small table near the cot lay a piece of metal, twisted and smeared with blood.

Blood was also still coming from the remaining wound, a nasty cut in the left shoulder that now ended near Arthur's arm pit. Merlin pressed the cloth down on it harder, to stop the bleeding. He gritted his teeth when Arthur moaned with pain. Gaius came back to pour one of his potions over the wound and the bleeding stopped immediately, albeit not without a very conspicuous shimmer that thankfully faded away quickly.

"Gaius, what are you doing?" Merlin asked again, nervously looking at the entrance, where Leon's and Gwaine's backs were the only thing between the two sorcerers and total disaster. "You never brought this potion before!"

"I had a feeling that we would need it" the healer muttered while he began stitching the cut.

"But you promised Uther never to use such things again."

Without turning his back or hesitating in his doings the physician snorted derisively. "When it pleased Uther to have me use my magic to save his precious daughter it was all well and good. Every other father who would have had me do the same for his child would have lost his life for it, without so much as a second thought. Well, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Now it pleased me to use my magic to save his son and our most august King can go and rot for all I care. He should learn to live up to his own principles before he demands it of others. There, I'm finished."

Gaius straightened his back and looked appraisingly at his handiwork. All that remained of the well-nigh catastrophe was a neatly stitched up cut and a Prince who was already regaining his colour.

And it wasn't a second too early for the two sorcerers. Merlin had just taken the piece of metal from the table and opened his mouth to ask for it's significance when an extremely enraged Uther burst into the room, pushing Leon to his knees in the process. "Where's my son?" the King demanded to know.

"I take this as a question as to how your son is, Sire" the physician answered coldly. "The Prince is fine, although the wound was a severe one and he has lost a lot of blood. I was just about to try and wake him up for a few minutes, to see if his head has suffered any hidden damage."

Uther shoved Merlin aside and looked down at his son's shoulder. For a fleeting moment his eyes widened and the warlock was sure that they were filled with fear and anguish. The King's hand moved towards his son's face, as if he wanted to caress it. But then it was over. Uther's features hardened and his hand fell back limply to his hip. "That's a mere scratch" he said. "Hardly worth mentioning."

"I take this as a compliment, Your Grace."

Merlin was still too confused by what he had seen in the King's face to fully register the disrespectful tone of voice the physician was using. So he just watched Gaius opening Arthur's mouth and pouring a potion down his patient's throat. Already half-conscious, the Prince resisted briefly, but the old man was too experienced a healer to allow him to spit the stuff out.

A moment later Arthur opened his eyes, confused and somewhat disoriented, but clear and focused. The healer sighed with relief. "Sire, can you see me?"

"Of course I can, Gaius. Why shouldn't I?"

"Can you see my fingers? How many are there?" the healer asked and held up three fingers before Arthur's eyes.

"Gaius, what...?"

"Leave him be" the King interrupted rudely. "He doesn't need such foolishnesses. He's perfectly fine, as you said."

"I said no such thing, Your Majesty..."

"Father, what happened? Where am I?" an impatient Prince cut the healer short.

"What happened? What happened? You spoiled the jousting, that's what happened. Like a godforsaken idiot you almost fell from this mad stallion you insisted on taking although every fool could see that the beast isn't up to it."

Uther's eyes bulged with rage while his voice became louder and louder until it echoed from the walls in the aghast silence this outburst had shocked the disbelieving onlookers into. "You have disgraced yourself, all of Camelot and me in front of my family. You have behaved like an imbecile who's sitting on a horse for the first time ever. You're unworthy of the title of a Prince of Camelot. Being my heir would be be more becoming to Hortensius than to you."

"Father, I..."

"Don't you dare give me some stupid excuses. I would advice you to stay out of my hair, the sight of you sickens me."

Uther turned on his heels and rushed out, where his angry voice could still be heard. "And have this bloody horse killed as soon as possible."

Merlin felt someone touch his wrist and looked down. "Would you take care of Stormcloud for me?" Arthur's strained, low voice was more than the warlock could stand. Quickly he nodded and together with Gwaine he went out without looking at the others. Together they led the exhausted, still terrified stallion away from the scene, carefully avoiding to meet each other's gaze. Only when they approached Arthur's stables, Merlin halted in mid-stride. "Maybe we should not bring him back to his own stand. Who knows what..."

"Yes" Gwaine said, uncharacteristically soft and low. "But where else could we put him?"

"I'll bring my own Blacky out and we can put them both in the guards' stables, alongside the working horses for a few days. Blacky will calm Stormcloud, Arthur gave him to me, all his horses are used to being close to him. Uther never goes near the commoners' stables, he's too high and mighty for that."

"But not too high and mighty for behaving like a madman!"

Merlin shrugged silently while they went to his horse's stand. As always Blacky greeted him with a friendly snort and a gentle push of the head. Once outside, the two animals greeted each other and Stormcloud forgot about his tribulations, just as Merlin had thought he would.

Shaking his head, Gwaine took the halter resolutely out of the warlock's hand. "Go back to Gaius, Merlin. You may be used to have this idiot of a kingly father around but right now I need the man as much as a pain in the ass. The horses' company will suit me much better."

Already on his way to the other side of the citadel, a horse on each side, Gwaine was still muttering to himself. "What Arthur sees in this blithering idiot of a father is beyond me anyway."

Merlin shook his head and sighed. He had no idea where this should end. Tired, angry and thoroughly disgusted by what he had seen and heard, he trotted off towards the knights' quarters.

"Hey. You. Yes, you boy. Merlin or whatever your name is. Wait!"

Surprised the warlock saw the Baron of Ravenclaw approaching him hastily. "Are you going back to your master?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"How is the Prince?"

"He's fine now. It was a ghastly wound though."

"I bet it was. It looked horrible enough when the Prince was hit. Astonishing though, that a training lance should cause so much damage. And so much blood. By the way, did you see the lance Comte Hortensius used?"

"No, Sir. But wait..." Only now the warlock remembered the piece of metal he had found and simply stuffed into his pocket when the King had stormed in. Now he pulled the thing out again and wrinkled his nose when he noticed that he had bloodied his jacket with it. Yuk. This was so disgusting. Not that his clothes weren't used to being smeared with the blood of a certain royal prat.

"I think Gaius removed that from the Prince's wound."

Ravenclaw took the piece and inspected it thoughtfully. "Did he indeed."

Once more he turned the piece in his hand, stepped to the water-well nearby and washed the blood and dirt away before he scrutinized it again. Then he gave it back to Merlin. "You've helped the Prince to get ready for jousting before, have you not?"

"Yes, My Lord Baron. Many times."

"Then have a good long look at this thing. Does this look like a piece from a blunt training lance to you?"

After a second Merlin shook his head. By no means this thing could be a part of a blunt lance point. Hortensius had used a sharp lance for the rematch. The warlock felt his knees wobble a bit. Wilful murder. The damned bastard had made an attempt at Arthur's life!

"Merlin, wait." Ravenclaw took the young warlock by the shoulders. "I want you to take good care of this piece. You must not lose it and no one must see it or know of it, all right? It is very important. Do you understand?"

Merlin was used to the higher ranking nobles, if they noticed his existence at all, treating him as if he had no brains in his head but straw and dirt from a peasant's fields. So he only nodded, his eyes meekly cast down to the ground.

"Look at me, my boy."

When Merlin didn't react, Ravenclaw took his chin and lifted his head impatiently. "Look at me, Merlin. I know you're fond of your master, very fond. You even drank the poison that was meant for him, didn't you. Otherwise I wouldn't ask what I am going to ask of you now. From this moment on, nobody, absolutely nobody but you is to fetch the Prince's food or drink. Everything is to be tasted by you first, before Arthur even touches it, especially if it should be send to him by his Aunt or his precious Cousin. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You will wash his clothes yourself. Or wait. My own washing is done by my own laundry maids whom I absolutely trust. You can bring the Prince's stuff to them, all right? I will inform them today of our little arrangement, yes? And most of all..." again the Baron squeezed the servant's shoulders for emphasis. "…..you will not let Arthur out of your sight, ever, as long as his kinfolk is here. Find some excuses, make something up. If necessary, have Gaius to back you up with something, I will talk to the old man, tell him what this is about."

"Yes, Sir."

"I would very much wish to have one of Arthur's knights shoulder at least a part of the burden I'm putting on you, but none of them can be as close to the Prince as constantly as you can, being his servant. Not without arousing suspicion. You understand that, don't you?"

"Perfectly." By now Merlin's patience, for all his experience with the aristocratic pride of all creation and their view on the rest of the world, was wearing out a bit. Really, what did this old crock take him for? Ealdor's run away local idiot or what? All right, the man was obviously on Arthur's side but even so...

"Well, as you have proven to be clever enough in the past, you most probably don't need my rambling on anyway. Forgive an old man for being over-cautious in this."

Incredulously Merlin stared into the old noble's face. "That was what you were thinking right now, was it not?" Ravenclaw chuckled. "I know that the Prince is the only one who can berate or belittle you without suffering a good lashing from your tongue."

"My Lord, I..."

"Let it go, Merlin. I know I can rely on you, as much as on your friend Gaius."

By now they had reached the knights' quarters but from the open door of Arthur's chamber and the general emptiness of the place it was clear that the Prince wasn't there any more.

"It's either the physician's quarters or his own" Ravenclaw said. "You better make haste to find your master."

Merlin had intended nothing else. From what Gaius had risked earlier, it was abundantly clear that the healer would want to have his patient as close as possible. So it was his own quarters Merlin was now heading to, not Arthur's chambers. To the warlock's surprise, Ravenclaw stayed with him until they reached the entrance to Gaius' tower.

The old Baron halted when he spotted Uther stepping down the stairs from the main castle, an excitedly chatting Hortensius at his side.

Merlin made haste to get out of the way. The knob of Gaius' door handle already in his hand, something urged him to look back. What he saw made his skin crawl.

The old Baron's eyes were still glued to the backs of the two Pendragons on their way down to the other yard.

Never before, not even in Morgause's face, Merlin had seen so much hatred.