A.N: If you enjoy roleplaying, check out my Merlin role play site. It's going really well with some fantastic writers.
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The room was heated by the large fire blooming from the grate across the room, Gaius drifted in and out with various potions and horrid coloured liquids that he insisted on pouring down her throat. Igraine however was now staring over the cot, her finger tight in the grasp of the small pink, wrinkled creature lying within it. Uther sat and watched on as she gurgled to the sleeping prince, he wondered what exactly she saw in it but every now and then she'd look up and tell him in a soft voice how beautiful he was. If Uther were to describe it he'd have said it was the least beautiful thing he'd ever seen, perhaps this was their punishment for conceiving with the use of magic, to have a hideous child. But no, their punishment was that Igraine was inches from death. Gaius had predicted she'd last two weeks at most. He sighed heavily and stood, pressed a kiss to her forehead and then looked down at the cot with a disgusted sneer. Noticing, Igraine gripped his hand, he could feel how weakness in the simple gesture and smiled sadly down at her.

"I would willingly give my life to give you what you wanted. You wanted an heir, Uther and if I managed that then I will die happy."

"You shouldn't die at all. I should have Gaius's head, he failed."

"No…" She breathed and smiled at him again, he sat down beside her as she pulled gently at her hand. She kissed his knuckle, her lips felt chapped and sore, so unusual. "It was no ones fault, Gaius did his best and he has done so well. He's here Uther, look at him. Your son and he is healthy and perfect… Gaius helped do that, he never failed."

He hated that she was whispering like that, it was further proof of her weakness and it stabbed at his heart a little more.

"You'll take care of him, keep him safe."

He'd failed in that respect, keeping him safe. Arthur was alive but how many times had he seen him to his near death? Sent him out to battle and practically shoved him into competition with remarks of 'Make me Proud' rather than 'Good Luck'. He truly was just the boy's king and nothing more, in fact Gaius had a bigger part in Arthur's life than he did; it had always been Gaius who had sat with him whilst he was sick. Well, from now on it would be him. He sighed heavily, weighed down by sleep but determined to stay here. Arthur shifted in his arms, his sweaty forehead grinding into Uther's cloak.

The old physician had still not shown his face and it was frustrating Uther more than he could really say, he could feel his son's life dying and he was powerless to stop it, just as he had been when Morgana had, had the sense to throw him the sword in the arena or when the idiot serving boy had been the one pulling Arthur out the way…

Finally the doors burst open and Gaius and his accomplice were pounding through. "Your highness." The elderly man bowed and spotting this, the boy copied. He'd have rolled his eyes but he hadn't the strength, instead he turned to his son, gently pushed him back to the bed and ignored all cries of protest, then stood up and made his way to the physician.

"Well? Your diagnosis."

"I have yet to find one Milord. But I shall need to check Arthur over again; I pray he has physical signs of what is causing his ill."

He nodded to Merlin and Uther watched as the servant boy reached Merlin, raised his sleeves and ran his fingers over pale skin, skin that was unmarked by any apparent rash. "No lumps either." The boy whispered.

"Look at his chest and back, you are looking out for red marks or anything out of the ordinary." The boy nodded and began peeling Arthur's red shirt from his body. Uther watched in mild interest then diverted his eyes away, ignoring with all his might as Arthur cried out in agony, he also ignored the way the serving boy looked nervously at the two older men before wrapping his arms around Arthur's chest and hugging him ever so slightly as he checked over every inch of the princes back.

"Well, anything?" Uther snapped impatiently and the boy shook his head sadly and lowered Arthur back to the bed without replacing his shirt. "He'll freeze."

"Sorry?"

"You insolent child!" He growled loudly, "His clothing!"

"Oh, right."

He moves away and from the closet he grabs a clean shirt and takes it back to the four poster bed, avoiding the King's glaring grey eyes and instead moving toward the once again, unconscious prince. He slides Arthur's arms through the navy fabric, buttons it gently and then moves away to let him rest.

"Now what?" The boy asked Gaius, the elderly man looked sadly at Arthur. Sweat stuck his blond hair to his face, making it darker than it naturally was, and his breath was ragged as he twisted and turned in the sheets.

"What was the last thing he drank or ate?"

"Everything served in the feast, He had the same food as everyone else and no one else is ill, and no one touched his plate. I was with him the whole time, I would have seen."

Uther nodded him as Gaius placed a hand on his shoulder; Merlin looked up at Gaius, looking so defeated. Then a light of sudden dawning came upon him and Uther straightened.

"What is it, Merlin?" The physician inquired, looking at the kid in the strange, inquisitive stare he had mastered so well over the years, his lips pursing.

"Is it…. Is it possible Arthur could have been poisoned without swallowing anything?" He was frowning, staring questioningly at Gaius who thought hard before finally nodding slowly, drawling his answer in a deep growl like noise.

"Yes, possible but doubtful. Why?"

Uther remained silent as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand out and placed gently over Arthur's hand as the boy tossed around, the sheets now being pushed downward as his teeth chattered against a non-existent chill.

"Well, we went hunting this afternoon… He caught his leg on something and scratched himself."

"I wasn't told this?"

"No, well, he said there was no point and it was just a scratch but maybe…"

"Nobody gets poisoned being scratched but brambles."

"What if it was something else? In the brambles?"

Merlin races to Arthur again, pulls up the leg of his breeches and shows the cut. Gaius inspects it, just as he looks up, "Merlin, if this cut poisoned him, the effects would have started before supper."

The child nods and sighs heavily, clearly out of ideas.

He wants to panic, to yell and scream until Gaius finds a cure but there is nothing to do but sit and wait Hope and Pray that Arthur fights whatever is causing this pain. At that, the blond prince sits up bolt right, his breathing heavier than ever, sweat dripping from every pore. His blue eyes gaze around the room, his chest seems heavy as his laboured breathing causes his whole body to tremble. Uther reaches out to him, touches his arm but Arthur doesn't turn to him. Instead he chokes, it seems an effort to keep his head up and his forehead is scrunched up.

"Help." His voice sounds so pitiful it breaks Uther's heart; he's reminded of Igraine, reminded of how pale her skin had looked, how sweaty her brow had been.

Arthur had been moved to a nursery, his crying had taken the energy from Igraine and Uther had hoped if she got her energy back she'd fight back, but it was barely a week when he had walked into the large, warm nursery as he did every evening. It had become like a ritual now; fetch Arthur, take him to Igraine, who was now too weak to walk herself. But as he entered the first thing he noticed was the lack of babyish squeals or the whispering of the wet-nurse. In fact it seemed empty and frowning he stepped further in. He couldn't return to his chambers empty handed. It was Arthur gurgling that brought his attention to the large comfortable, cushioned chair by the fire, the one usually occupied by their hired nurse. However, Igraine was slumped in it.

He inhaled sharply, she was so still and unmoving and in her arms, Arthur lay just as peaceful, his eyes lids fluttered ever so slightly and his hands were fisted in his mother's robes. She, with a smile on her face was wrapped around her son, her chin resting gently against the soft top of Arthur's head, the small, fine blond strands tickling her jaw line.

He didn't need Gaius to tell him that his wife was dead. He could see it in the sereneness of her features. Nobody could look so peaceful, not even his beautiful wife.

With strength he didn't know he had, not strength like this anyway, Uther swept forward, knelt before her and took her cold hand in his, prying it away from the cotton their son was bundled in.

"Oh, my sweet wife." He cried, cold, icy tears slipping down his cheeks as he brushed his lips over her hand before standing, kissing her forehead with the softness she had always loved in him. He brushed a hand over her paled cheek then moved it to the sleeping prince, he was so small and so naïve, he didn't know he lay in the embrace of death and it one last moment of weakness, Uther couldn't bare to pull him away from the last hug his mother would ever give him.

Instead he stepped to the door, opened it as quietly could, as though afraid he'd wake the sleeping pair by the fire. He granted them one last look before stepping into the corridor, his chin up, jaw clenched tight, his eyes focused on one particular bit of wall.

"Guards!"

"Yes, my liege?"

He gasped, sucking in one last breath, "Fetch Gaius, tell him the Queen has passed away, his assistance will be required. When it is done, bring me Prince Arthur to my chambers." His tone was so matter-of-fact, so calm and stern that it shook his men, the abruptness of it and the seemingly uncaring exterior.

And he turned and left abruptly. He wouldn't cry here, not in front of these people. He wouldn't show weakness, because he couldn't. Not ever.

*

"Sire?"

Uther looked up, he had managed so far to maintain himself, other than the tears he had shed at her side, he managed to keep himself cool. He still expected guards after all, and Arthur would have been fed by now… That was why there were here.

He opened the door and took the boy from the arms of Sir Orion Canterbury before speaking in the same, distant and cold tone.

"No one is to come by here tonight. Not for anything. I shall not have Guards by my door, the nurse is to stay away, Arthur will not need feeding again tonight and I shall care for him, he has all he needs here. You are to tell the others immediately.

I want no interruptions."

With that he closed the door; Arthur curled up in one arm. Only once it was locked and bolted did he shed the first of his emotion, it startled the baby but he simply brushed a hand over the baby's heart and smiled down at it.

"Come along now,"

And he had for the first time in his life, sat down in his arm chair, baby pressed against his chest just as Igraine had downstairs, and cried heavily for most of the night with Arthur sleeping and crying alternatively.

"Hurts… Head hurts…" he cried out and he sounded like a boy of three rather than a man of eighteen.

Uther reached out, wishing that Igraine's death had not been the last time he had let himself so close to his son. He swallowed hard, wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him once again, against his chest.

"What do we do?" He whispered, the fear was so evident but he didn't care, he couldn't care. He was going to lose his son and that was the one thing he couldn't cope with.

"I'm afraid until an illness is apparent. There is nothing we can do."

"We can't let him die!" Uther looked up as Merlin snapped at Gaius, he'd never heard anyone speak like that to and elder and certainly not a servant, however he was inclined to agree.

"No. We can't." Gaius agreed. "But there is nothing neither I nor anyone else can do yet. We'll just have to pray Arthur is strong enough to fight it off till we find out what has happened to him."

Against this chest, Arthur mumbled something incoherent and Uther stroked his back carefully, willing his son to live with every fibre of his being.

Chapter four soon...