AN: I write this to you as I bleed to death; my wound may be small, but it is fierce! When you read about my unfortunate and untimely death, do NOT believe what you read in the papers...they lie. When they tell you it was the result of using an old CutCo cheese-slicer to slice red onions, don't listen to them. It was a heroic fight between good versus evil...evil red onions of DOOM! But I have fought the good fight, and go in peace.
ok, enough of the that...must hold out and finish the chapter.
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Chapter 6
Prince Arthur swore under his breath, spinning around he charged back the way he had come, following the trail cut by the fleeing bandits. Choosing his steps as carefully as he could, despite his hurry, avoiding the driest of leaves and brittle branches. Stopping behind a wide tree, he pause, listening. The low murmur of voices caused the Prince to check the direction of the wind before he proceeded to make his way in that direction.
Moving forward, he checked in each direction, realigning his path several times until he came upon the pack the slave had been wearing; it bore the royal seal.
"Tell me, boy!"
A muffled grunt followed by a painful followed by a painful gasp of breath was his answer.
"If you do not tell me-"
Furrowing his brow, the Prince tried to lean closer as the man lowered his voice, No doubt whispering threats. Where are the knights? Taking a deep breath, Arthur inched from behind his cover and slowly moved forward toward the man with the sword at the slave's neck. The slave shook his head at his words, not noticing the thin trail of blood that ran down his neck, the result of the blade pressed tightly to his throat. His head snapped back against the tree he was being held against, one hand fisted in his ebony hair. The man shook the boy with angry motion as he breathed more threats at the resisting boy.
snap
Two sets of eyes looked in the direction of the disturbance, one in wariness, the other in consternation; while one set closed. Prince Arthur surged forward, sword in a ready position, still several feet from the pair. The bandit grasped the boy and flipped him around, the blade still at his throat, the other arm around the slave's chest, pinning his arms at his sides.
"Come no closer!"
The man barked, a smile coming to rest on his lips as the Prince complied. Taking another step backward and to the side of the tree, he tried to put more distance between him and the more skilled Prince. He snarled, drawing another line of blood on his captive's neck as the Prince matched his steps.
"I said, come NO closer!"
"I have not, i am the same distance to you as before."
Prince Arthur eye the bandit, his eyes shifting from his unkempt matted black hair, to his sun-weathered forehead currently lined with stress; to his wild brown eyes, sweat streaked planes of his face. He was dressed in a well-worn leather sleeveless vest, some parts ragged from years of constant battles; with a belt and sheath on his narrow hips which tapped against his thin leather breeches tucked into equally thin boots.
"Let the boy go, your quarrel is with me."
Ignoring the highly affronted expression on the slave's face, Arthur took a step forward. Glancing around, the man seemed to be stalling, As if he were waiting for something. Warily, the Prince took note of the stillness of the forest. There's no birdsong, even the wind has stilled. The forest as a whole was holding it's breath, anxious to see destiny unfolding before their privileged eyes.
"Wait! Stop!
The Prince stretched forth his hand, as he hurried forward his eyes wide. The man had foolishly taken several more steps backwards without checking his surrounding. His foot hit air as he stepped backwards off the edge and tumbled out of view, dragging his captive with him.
The dark haired boy grunted as his back collided with the ground, distracting him from the constant stinging of his neck wounds. Dull thuds echoed in his ear as their bodies bounced and rolled down the ravine. A sickening crack reverberated in the air. Green and brown colors swirled in his line of sigh, forcing him to close his eyes before his stomach rebelled. He groaned as sharp rock, roots and thorns introduced themselves to his body without care. Eventually the rolling slowed as the ground beneath him smoothed out and leveled off. His momentum caused him to roll right over a large but soft mound before coming to a rest on his side, facing a fallen rotting log.
The slave laid there, daring only to breathe slowly as his mind fought to catch up to his new circumstances. Ok..arms, check; legs...mostly there, check; back...? Oh, that's not good. Not good. Let's try something else; neck? Still attached, if barely. Head? Well, that's always been debatable. Eyes? It's really dark, oh, I guess I need to open them for best results. Wha-?! Why do the bushes have eyes?
Peering back at the boy were large eyes; they stared back at him for several moments before blinking. The eye's grew larger as the creature moved out from the shadows and into the light. The eyes seemed to constrict in the brightness of the sunlight. The boy blinked, still attempting to gather his bearings. He blinked several more times as he regarded the creature, he continued to stare, then jerked back in surprise as it's eyes rotated in different directions. What the-?! Fascinated, he was amazed to see the creature approach him, close enough to touch his dark neckerchief. Wha-where did it go?
Blinking rapidly, he searched the immediate surroundings for signs of the creature. Snap! Crunch! Crunch! Crack! Tensing his shoulders, he hunched down in an attempt to not draw attention. Biting his lip, he suppressed a groan as his neck protested. The sounds of breaking branches and leaves being trampled under foot crescendoed as another approached his prone position. Taking shallow breaths, the slave surreptitiously felt along the ground. His hands clasped around a branch about the width of his three fingers. Shifting his grip, he counted under his breath, listening, calculating the best moment to attack. As he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and turn him over, he clumsily swung his makeshift weapon.
The hand left his shoulder in a blur as it shifted, catching the branch. Startled blue eyes met exasperated blue eyes.
"What do you think you were doing?"
"Trying to knock some sense into you...my lord?"
"Why?"
"You are the Prince, you cannot just approach a person unawares!"
The Prince cleared his throat, pointedly look down at the boy's side.
"Oh." The Prince had his sword an inch from the boy's side. One twitch of his hand, and it would find a new home in the slave.
"Oh indeed, now get up. You can't laze about all day, there are others still out there and we are alone."
"Alone? But the knights..." The slave trailed off at the muscle twitch in the Prince's jaw.
"Ah. Um, could you not point that thing at me?"
The Prince blinked uncomprehensively at him, before he withdrew the sword and waited for the slave to move. He waited.
"You do realize that, in order for us to leave, you need to move."
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Working on it."
"Work faster."
The slave glared at the Prince as he gingerly moved his limbs, testing out what still hurt and what was functioning. A gasp tore from his lips as the Prince grabbed him by his arm and yanked him up. Grey spots pulsated across his vision as he swayed where he stood. Pain flickered up and down his spine, sending pin pricks all the way down to his toes. Panting, he nodded to Arthur, who frowned at his reaction to being pulled to his feet. The Prince turned around to lead them out and back to the city.
"Sire?"
"What now?"
"The pack. I will carry it."
"You can hardly stand, let alone carry it."
"You will need to be without burden should we be attacked and forced to fight."
Unable to argue with his logic, he relinquished his claim to the pack. Is that what took him so long? He went back for the pack? As he hoists up the pack, he felt the strange sensation of something on his back. The soft tapping as if someone was tapping along his shoulder to the pack in a steady but slow progress. Fidgeting his shoulders, he was satisfied when the sensation stopped.
"Let us make haste."
At his urging, the slave quickened his steps and fell into rhythm behind his master, intently listening and stretching out his senses. All of them. Throwing out his arms, the boy frantically tried to regain his footing. Hearing the commotion, Arthur turned and rolled his eyes. Snaking their way through the ravine, Prince Arthur took measured steps, ears attuned to the chatter of the forest. The snapping of a twig brought him up short. He raised his hand signaling a stop. Glancing behind him, the slave stumbled into the still Prince causing them both another step forward.
"Sorry-"
"Ssshhhh! "
Snapping his mouth shut, the slave peered around the tense broad shoulders. A blur of brown hurried overhead, leaping over the width of the ravine at its most narrowed part. A series of thuds relayed the lack of finesse with which the blur landed with. The sound of retreating footfalls relaxed both sets of shoulders. With a tip of his head, they both started forward towards the narrowing. Pausing long enough to confirm no other persons around, the Prince sheathed his blade and began picking his hand holds carefully. Quickly, he scaled the side and peered first over his shoulder and then in front of him.
Satisfied, he pulled himself up and over, scrambling as part of the edge crumbled under his weight. Crouching down, he called to the slave, encouraging him to come up as well. The boy chose high hand holds to cover more distance quicker. He squinted up at the Prince as dirt trickled down the face of the ravine, threatening to get dust in his eyes. Huffing in exertion, the slave concentrated on just getting one hand higher than the other. He spat as a particularly large amount of dirt hit him in the face. He shook his head in an effort to get as much of it off as possible. He paused too long. The ground beneath his left hand crumbled, sending him sliding a foot down.
"What's taking so long?" The Prince demanded as he stopped looking around the forest to gaze down at the dust covered slave. The ebony haired boy ignored the way the corners of Arthur's mouth twitched. Evening out his breathing, the slave shimmied up the rest of the way to the edge. He hooked his forearm over the edge and grunted as he tried to pull himself up.
"Ugh-"
Arthur rolled his eyes as he reached down and grabbed the back of the boy and lifted the boy up. With enough of his own weight off of him, the slave managed to pull himself over the edge. He lay on his stomach, panting.
"Let's go."
Arthur looked at the position of the sun before taking off in the direction of Camelot, not bothering to make sure the boy was following. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a bloody tint to the forest. The slave shuddered. They walked and walked and walked and walked. Wearily, the slave tripped over an inconveniently placed root, falling face down on the forest floor. He got back up and hurried to catch back up with the Prince, who hadn't even paused. Another few moments later he became reacquainted with the ground.
Prince Arthur paused, waiting. When he didn't hear the sounds of the boy scrambling back to his feet, he turned around. Sighing in exasperation, he angled away from the boy and probed the forest for a decent place.
"Alright, let's set up camp for the night."
"What-? So soon? I can still go on."
"Yes, I am sure you can. Nonetheless, soon it will be too dark to see."
The Prince regarded the selected area with approval before turning to the boy, who was also looking around.
"Well, what are you looking for?"
"Er-?"
"Build a fire, bring out the rations. Honestly, are you worthless?"
Flushing, the slave set the Prince's pack down so he could rifle through it. Retrieving the dried meat, he placed it on the tin plat he found. Setting it aside, the slave looked about for firewood. Biting his lip, the boy gathered sticks and brought them back to their camp. Dropping them in a pile, the dark haired boy crouched down, allowing his eyes to search for a decent stone. Grabbing one he supposed to be promising, he also grabbed some flint from their supplies. He brought the two together, banging one into the other. After several moments of fruitless work, he felt the gaze of the Prince on him. Gulping he angled it and tried again.
"What are you doing?"
"Um, starting a fire?"
"Really? Cause to me it just looks like you are clapping stones together. Have you never done this before? Even Morgana could light a fire and she's a girl."
"You do realize of course that most all peasant women can start fires."
"A slave."
"Yes, we've been over this before."
"I might have done this before I was a slave, but I don't remember."
"Before you were a slave? Were you not born one?"
"No, I was not."
"It's getting cold; here, I will show you once, got it?"
The Prince retrieved several rocks and arranged them in a circle. In the middle he set dry leaves and grass. Then he used some of the branches to form a vertical triangle. Leaning in close, he struck the flint at an angle against the rock, like a person whittling. Several sparks flew as a result of the friction. The dry grass caught on the sparks and lit. The Prince carefully blew on the small flame, encouraging it to grow. Smirking in triumph, he turned to the boy who was starting at the flames in awe.
The childlike wonder on his face stopped any arrogant poke at his lack of skills. Setting up a smaller mound of rocks, Arthur regarded the slave, "here, your turn. I can't very well be seen doing a servants job in others company. You try."
Snapping out his wonder, the boy took the proffered stones in his hands and tried to imitate the Prince. It took a few tries, but eventually he got a spark to catch and lightly fanned it into a merry little blaze. A grin of accomplishment lit his face as he proudly gestured to the fire.
"I did it!"
"Good, now heat up the food."
Arthur watched as the slave complied with his orders, his mind drifting back to when he was a much younger child, and his father had brought him out and tried to teach him how to start a fire. It had been a cool night, and Uther showed him once, before expecting him to do it on the first try. Little Arthur had tried, he really did, but he couldn't grip the large rock comfortably in his hands and strike with enough force to generate a spark. He remembered the sigh of disappointment, he remembered the feeling of failing, of letting his father down, and remembered how cold he felt that night regardless of the fire his father had started. He thought back to their return to the castle, and how the next day Sir Leon had taken him aside, having been with them (himself in training to be a knight), and whisper an almost slight bit of help. A few nights later, when Arthur was watching the knight go on night patrol, Sir Leon had waved him over and taken him aside. For the next hour he taught him what good kindling wood looked like, and how to arrange them most effectively, and how to grip his flint and the proper angle to strike them. He remembered his own grin and yelp as the fire had started.
He remembered the next time his Father had taken him out, and had him start a fire, he remembered the satisfied look on the King's face as Arthur was able to get it lit on just the second try. He remembered the first words he spoke, "that will do, for now. Soon you'll be able to do it on the first try." He remembered how his shoulders had sagged, it wasn't enough. He remembered how Sir Leon had crept over after the King had moved away and congratulated him. He remembered his vow to do better, to work even harder to gain his father's praise.
The Prince marveled at his enthusiasm at such a small thing; he nodded his acceptance of the boy before glancing at the camp. Chewing on his dinner, he allowed his mind to drift ever so slightly. Finishing, he sighed.
"We'll need to keep a watch-"
"I can do it, Sire."
"Really? Without falling asleep."
"Of course."
The slave's brow furrowed in indignation, the second guessing of his abilities an insult. The Prince regarded his thoughtfully for a moment before retrieving his sword. He presented it to the boy pommel first, the slave stared at the sword and back at the Prince, his blue eyes cloudy.
"Take it. If and only if the occasion arises, I give you permission to defend yourself and camp; however, wake me if anything seems suspicious, you're liable to stab yourself or me without any training."
The boy flushed at the accuracy of the Prince's statement. He shakily took the blade and set it within easy grasp as the blond settled down for the night. Closing his eyes, he evened out his breathing and pretended to fall asleep. The sky darkened to night and with it, the slave put out both fires, desiring not to alert anyone to their location with neither fire nor smoke.
The Prince's eyebrows rose in astonishment, he himself had forgotten to order the boy to put the fire, yet he had the presence of mind to do so. Keeping his eyes half closed, the Prince surreptitiously found a stone. Listening, he heard the boy rustling around, he lobbed the stone into the brush several feet away. The soft padding of the boy's feet as he crept over by the Prince. As his feet came into view, Arthur closed his eyes and regulated his breathing. Opening them to mere slits, he watched curiously as the boy held the sword ready, his hand hold awkward and inexperienced and his feet unbalanced. He's lucky that wasn't a bandit. He'd be dead before he could bring up that sword.
Peering into the darkness, the boy stretched out his sense for what created the sound. Finding nothing of significance, he circled around their small encampment before he settled back on a log and pointed the tip of the sword in the dirt while he kept his hand on the pommel.
Throughout the night, the boy was alert to each of the smallest sounds of the forest. He was relieved as the sun crested over the mountains in the distance and creeping though the trees. Releasing a breath slowly, he set the sword down and approached the sleeping Prince. Bending on one knee he called out, "Sire! Prince Arthur!"
Prince Arthur jerked awake, his eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. Upon catching sight of his latest attendant, he rolled away, to his knees in one smooth movement; his hand automatically gasping for his sword. The slave realized that the Prince was not in complete control of his faculties yet, so he waited, not moving so much as an inch. The blonde shook his head a little to clear the cobwebs and yawned. He stopped mid-yawn, glancing from the completely still slave to the position of the sun.
The dark haired boy started at a point just to the left so as not to meet his royal pratness eyes' He tried not to let the confusion show, he didn't understand why the Prince was so startled to realize that the sun was already rising. Clearing his throat, he caught his attention.
"My lord, it would be better if we leave so as to make it back to Camelot before the sun reaches it's apex."
"Yes, of course."
Nodding his permission, the slave gathered their few things and packed them up. Finding a small amount of bread and dried fruit, he set them on a small plate and handed it over to the still waking up Prince who took it without a word. Swallowing, the slave went back to his work. Once the Prince was finished he collected the plate and did a quick wipe before replacing it in it's proper place. Hefting the pack back up on his back, he held a hand to his stomach to attempt to muffle the grumbling. Wincing at a particularly sharp twinge of pain in his stomach, the slave took a deep breath through his nose and let it hiss slightly from his semi-parted lips.
"We will ned to head back through this path and follow it around parallel to the main road until we hit Camelot."
The farther they traveled the higher the sun rose in the morning sky. The higher the sun rose the hotter it got. Soon the humidity was so thick their backs were drenched in perspiration. A soft whinny drifted in a breeze, immediately Arthur was on guard. He stopped, listening for any sound of bandits or other persons.
"What are you- Hey!" Arthur hissed when the boy didn't stop as he had. The Prince darted forward to grab the slave when he stopped in surprise. The boy was holding the reins of one of the horses from their original camp. Arthur let out a laugh, "what luck!"
He ambled over and mounted the horse, taking the reins from the slave, he led them back towards Camelot.
They had been traveling for several hours when the Prince noted the boy falling farther and farther behind.
"Hurry up!"
The boy increased his speed at the Prince's command and within moments he was beside him once more. The gurgling of the boy's stomach broke the relative silence. Narrow shoulders hunched in response as one hand came up to rub his stomach.
"Hungry much?"
The slave didn't respond, choosing instead to focus on his footing which was becoming more unstable by the moment. I don't think I can make it to Camelot. The boy's feet stumbled over each other, causing his balance to be thrown off. With a yelp he went down and didn't make a move to get back up. Prince Arthur rolled his eyes at the melodramatics of the boy.
"It's only another two hours till we reach the city. Surely it's not too much to get back there?"
"Of-cou-course not, says the Prince who rides atop a horse."
The Prince sighed derisively, as he pulled the horse around to the boy's position. When the boy didn't move, the Prince dismounted and squatted down beside the boy. Frowning, he removed the pack from his shoulders, it flopped to the side with a dull thud. The slave still had not reacted to his lessened load. Exasperated, the Prince rolled the boy onto his back and gasped as he took inventory of the boy's countenance. An unhealthy flush tinted the boy's cheeks as his breaths came out in small pants, with a hint of a wheeze to it. A low grumbling directed his attention to the sunken stomach, causing his eyes to flicker back to the boy's face. Dark bruising marred the boy's under eyes, emphasizing his sunken face.
A new sense of urgency spurred the Prince into action, he grabbed a few items before tossing the pack into the brush where it might be retrieved at a later date. He struggled to load the boy on the saddle before he swung himself up and allowed the boy to slump against his front. Clucking to his horse, they started a slow walk before working up to a faster pace. Arthur knew that the added weight of the slave, however slight compared to himself, was still an extra burden on the horse and therefore not wise to push her too fast.
He gratefully sped through the forest,blurred in his peripheral vision. The gates of Camelot took longer than he would have preferred to appear. Within moments he was racing through the streets and up to the inner most court. Several town fold had to dash out of the way, their eyes wide as they saw the Prince allowing another to ride with him. A murmur of peasant talk rose the higher he went. Leaning back in his saddle, he lifted his feet from the flanks of the horse, "hooo."
Obediently, the horse slowed and came to a complete stop. Several guard and knights rushed forward to aid the Prince. Two dragged the slave off of the horse, while one held the horse in place, thus allowing the Prince to dismount. Arthur spies the squire from before and calls him over, "Daniel-"
"Samuel, Sire."
"Right, Samuel take, uh, him up to Gaius and see that he is taken care of."
"At once, my Lord."
Samuel drapes one arm around his shoulder and grunts at the effort, shifting he turns his head in surprise as his burden is lifted significantly. Angling his head he sees the Lady Morgana's maidservant hoist the slave up on the other side. Nodding his thanks they made their way slowly towards the Physician's room. On the way another manservant of Camelot saw them and took Gwen's place, this allowing her to run ahead to prepare Gaius. When the trio made it up to the room, the elderly man was waiting with door open his patient. Directing them to deposit him on the cot, he set about to work on brining down his fever. Placing a wet cloth on his brow, he checked for any obvious signs of injuries. Wetting another cloth, Gaius wiped the boy's neck of dirt, sweat and dried blood to determine the severity of the cut. Seeing the cut was fairly shallow, he wiped at it before applying a thin bandage so as to prevent infection.
Near an hour later, the door opened to admit a weary Prince.
"How is he, Gaius?"
"Severely dehydrated and malnourished. When was the last time you ate?"
"It was just this morning."
"And the boy?"
"Why, the same time as me, I suppose."
"You suppose? Did you actually see him eat or drink?"
"Well, no, but why wouldn't he?"
The Prince blinked in surprise as the older man seemed to sag before his eyes. With a weary sigh of his own, Gaius glanced towards his unconscious patient, before pulling out a large scroll from a shelf. Unrolling it quite a ways, he used his magnifying glass to find the paragraph he had previously read.
"According to the laws of Camelot (and other kingdoms) in regards to slavery-"
"-Which is illegal."
"Actually, Sire, that is not entirely true."
"What?! What do you mean, 'not entirely true'?"
"Forcing an innocent person into slavery; being born of a slave and thus 'born into slavery' are illegal; however, there is one provision in which it is legal. That of a debt slave. Incurring a monetary debt and being unable to repay said debt according to the terms of their agreement, the part who loaned the money has the option of collecting the money owed by either taking said person or persons as collateral until said party pays off the debt by working for that person; or the owning party may choose to sell that person to another party, in which the slave must then serve their new owner until they pay off what they paid or the original debt is satisfied."
Prince Arthur winced slightly as Gaius poked and prodded at his various cuts and bruising while he explained the obscure law. Blue eyes regarded the unconscious form in a new light.
"A debt-slave? I don't understand why this should be allowed."
"There must be some sort of way for the person loaning out money to be guaranteed that they receive a return on their contract. Can you imagine what would happen in people borrowed money and had no consequence if they didn't pay it back? There would be chaos. Now, I am not condoning this debt-slavery, but merely explaining the reasoning behind it."
"I do understand it better now, but that doesn't explain why the boy didn't eat or drink."
"The nature of a slave, debt or otherwise, is that everything they are and have belongs to their master. They must have permission for almost everything they do, which includes eating and drinking."
"That explains why I had to give him permission for weapons, but why didn't he saw anything?!"
Anger tinged his voice as he realized that the slave's condition was all his fault. If I had bothered to look beyond my own nose, I would have noticed! Instead, he suffered in silence. How could he have possibly lasted so long? The Prince gasped as he realized that as far as he knew, the boy hadn't had any nourishment since becoming his replacement. Arthur's face took a green tint as he felt his stomach roil at his disturbing thoughts.
"Gaius, I-I don't think he had anything to eat in the past several days."
He swayed where he stood as those thoughts raced through his brain at an alarming speed. He barely felt the wizened man's hand as it guided him down onto a bench nearby.
"Sire...Prince Arthur...ARTHUR!"
Sapphire eyes snapped to meet his, "Never fear. I happen to know that Gwen has made sure to get him something to eat at least twice a day. I suspect it has only been your trip, in which he didn't eat."
"I thought that as his 'master', I had to give him permission?"
"While that is true, in the hierarchy, even as a servant Gwen is of higher standing than the boy and therefore has dominance over him. He must obey you above all other servants, and his King obey above you."
The weight on the Prince's chest eased off slightly at the reassurances.
"That's still 2 days! 2 Days?!"
The weight settled back in place on his chest. He raised a hand, scrubbing his face. So weary, he didn't consciously realize Gaius had finished with him until he saw him move back over to the dark haired boy.
"He's so young to be forced into that. How could he have incurred any such debt at his age?"
"Young? Sire, he is but a year and a half to two years your junior."
"What? How can that be? Look at him, he's so small! So skinny."
"A result of his station, I would say."
The Prince leaned an elbow on the table, bringing his fist to his lips. He watched as the Physician wet a cloth before ringing it over the cracked lips of is patient, allowing several drops to help soothe the parched boy. Reflexively, the boy swallowed. He repeated the motion several times until he was satisfied with the amount the boy took in. A groaned escaped the boy as he shifted slightly, causing part of the blankets to fall, allowing Arthur to see the bandage wrapped around his ribcage. Sighing the boy settled back down, turning his head away from the eyes of the Prince.
"Did you know he stayed up all night on watch? I even offered a turn but he was adamant that he could handle it."
Gaius stared at the Prince, "In his state, I am surprised he made it as long as he did. He must have a remarkable amount of determination. Or stubbornness."
Prince Arthur didn't respond, his eyes focused on the young man. Wordlessly, he moved enough so that he could adjust the blanket back in place before he settle back on the bench. A few more moments passed, he could hear Gaius moving around.
"Gaius, how is he?"
Prince Arthur started at the female voice behind him. Turning he saw Morgana's maidservant in the doorway, her brow wrinkled in worry.
"He'll be fine, he just needs some rest and good food."
"Oh, thank God. Is there anything you need?"
"Actually, if you could bring lunch for Arthur and some broth and bread for the boy, I would be most appreciative."
"Of course, Gaius."
"Wait!"
Gwen turned back to the Prince who had called out to her, "Lunch will not be necessary. I will retire to my room. Just, just make sure he gets whatever he needs."
He ignored the surprise that widened her eyes. Getting up, he motioned for her to proceed him and left behind her. As he turned to close the door, he paused long enough to see Gaius continue to mop the slave's brow.
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It was several hours later that Prince Arthur once again found himself in the Physician's chambers. Opening the door, he saw it barely lit and Gaius no where in sight. Looking around he spied the lighter and used it to light candles throughout the room so he might better see. As soon as it was bright enough he saw the boy moving restlessly beneath the sheets. He moved closer, and saw the boy's lips moving to form words. Arthur leaned down in an attempt to decipher the reason for his unease. A low rasp was his only answer. Frowning, he looked about. Spying a shallow bowl of water and rag beside it, he picked them up. Almost as if the boy could sense it, he turned his head towards the Prince and licked his dry lips.
Awkwardly, the Prince laid the bowl in his lap and dipped the rag in it as he had seen the Physician do and ring it out over his mouth. Copious amounts of water splashed on the boy's face, some of which made it onto the lips and mouth. Eagerly, the slave swallowed and angled his head to get a better position. Arthur repeated the process several more times and the boy responded more and more each time. Finally the boy peeled his eyes open a little. The Prince froze, dripping cloth in hand.
"Er-"
"Death by drowning, is it? Seems a little of the top, don't you think?"
"Yes, yes you have been sentence to death by drowning; method of drowning? With a rag."
The boy squinted up at the Prince, his eyes finally finding the source of the dripping water.
"Ah, well, perhaps you were testing...a new method...?"
A sardonic eyebrow raise was his answer.
"I,uh, don't suppose there's more water for a drink?"
Prince Arthur stared blankly down at him until the words registered in his brain.
"Yes, of course."
He fumbled around for a cup once he found the water pitcher. Handing it over, he watched as the boy's shaking hand spilled a majority of it on himself with his poor aim.
"Looks more like you've sentence yourself to drowning."
Blushing, the slave moved to try again when he found himself relieved of the cup. The Prince moved forward, resting one knee on the cot, he shifted the boy up with one hand and used the other to tip the cup in his lips. Although the boy tried to gulp the water down, the Prince angled it so he couldn't.
"Careful, you'll get sick, er...sicker, if you drink too much at once.'
The slave leaned back slightly, so Arthur set the cup down and eased him back but still propped up slightly. The slave's wide eyes were on the Prince, who avoided them.
"So, um, er, what is you name?"
"My name?"
The Prince raised an eyebrow, Surely this isn't a difficult question. He watched as a debate seemed to war internally.
"To be a slave, is to surrender one's name."
The boy sounded as though he were reciting some law. He bent his head as he turned his gaze to the blanket covering his torso and began to pick at the fabric. The slave's blue eyes were murky with some memory.
"What does your master call you?"
"Boy, slave, you, ingrate."
Arthur winced at the reply. He opened his mouth to say something but chocked it off as the boy continued.
"You are the first person to ask my name in a long time." The boy was whispering now.
"Really? How long?"
"About eleven years."
The blond Prince gasped, his mind churning with the very idea of someone not knowing his name and he couldn't wrap his mind around it.
"Wh-what did your mother call you?"
Even though there was a long pause, neither had heard the door open, or the Physician start to come in until he felt the atmosphere and wisely kept silent. The Prince waited, and waited. He waited until he could bear it no longer, he repeated the question.
"Merlin. My mother named me, Merlin."
A strangled gasp broke the moment and both sets of eyes swung around to see the white haired physician grasp his chest as he slumped backwards, inadvertently closing the door. The old man panted as he tried to draw breath.
"Gauis!"
The Prince skidded to a stop beside the fallen man, unsure of what to do. The physician's eyes were wide and fixated on the boy who was called Merlin.
"GAIUS!"
The yell echoed down the hallway and throughout that portion of the castle.
-0-
A/N: I do actually feel bad about this cliffie, as I had this already written before and it'll probably be two weeks before I update next. Don't kill me! What did you think?
H.D.S 10/20/12
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To all my guest reviewers, I love you guys too and hope this is all turning out to your liking! You are so cool! I think I'll move my updates to Fridays, so watch for them Friday-Saturday(ish).
