With all the administrative work, his focus on spending time with Gwen and various random castle duties, Arthur hadn't been to training for a while. Thank goodness he could trust Leon and Elyan with the training. Still, after yet another long afternoon cooped up in his room staring at reports and requests, Arthur decided he needed a break.

The sun was high in the sky and even from within the confines of the castle walls, Arthur could hear the noise from the town outside. Peace. He smiled. Morgana might still be lurking somewhere, looking for a moment to strike but for now, Camelot was rebuilding. A flash of lavender and Arthur turned to catch Guinevere, her arms full of laundry, walking along the corridor with another maidservant. As if she could feel his gaze, she looked up and smiled at him. He hadn't seen her since their picnic the day before and he was pleased that she wasn't too angry to smile at him. Arthur knew they needed to talk about what happened and their emotions, but even before she lost her memory, Arthur didn't want to have that conversation. Now, he was even less inclined to. Why couldn't they just put it in the past? He could accept that she loved Lancelot, he told himself even as the familiar pang of sadness rose in him.

A small group of young knights were training with Leon and Arthur was content to watch them for a while. They were promising, quick hands and feet. Yet they were immature and confused impetuousness with courage. It had taken him some time too to learn the difference - to learn that combat was more than just a physical skill.

"Up for some sparring my lord?" Leon called out to him. Nodding, he grabbed his sword and strode towards them. This would help expand all that nervous energy that had built up in him since he spotted Guinevere.

The first knight was Sir Tomas, son of the middle town's baker. He fell easily at Arthur's sword, admiration and awe shining from his eyes as Arthur helped him up. Distractedly, Arthur patted him on the back and muttered some words of praise. Hopefully the other knights would put up a bit more of a fight.

Sir Robin was slightly better but easily distracted. Sir Marc seemed overwhelmed with nerves and more or less collapsed at Arthur's feet even before the first swing of the sword.

"Hector! You're up!"

A tall, well-built boy stood in front of Arthur. Unlike his peers, he radiated confidence. This would be interesting thought Arthur as he lifted his sword.

Sir Hector was a lot better than those before him. His hits were accurate and hard but most importantly, he could read a fight, anticipating Arthur's moves fairly well. He was still rough around the edges and a little too emotional when fighting, but Arthur was impressed. Sir Hector was definitely a lot more polished than any of the other new knights. Arthur wondered where he had trained before. Unbiddened, Merlin's warning about Hector floated into his head but before he could put more thought into it, Hector lunged at him, causing Arthur to dodge in a somewhat awkward position.

After a chain of hits, Arthur raised his hand, signalling that combat should stop. Hector lowered his sword and Arthur slowly caught his breath. The tension he'd been carrying eased slightly and he was feeling slightly better. Sticking his sword in the ground, he made his way closer to Hector, wanting to commend him on his skill and enquire where he'd learnt them.

The next thing Arthur knew was that he was on his knees, his hand clutching the wound in his chest and not being able to breath. His eyes were heavy and everything started to become hazy. Leon was screaming and he thought he heard Merlin's voice. Breathing was incredibly painful and he could barely keep his eyes open. His limbs were heavy and part of him just wanted to lie down and rest. Where was Gwen? If he was going to die, he wanted to tell her he loved her.

"Gwen." Someone moved him slightly. Someone else was saying something to him. His eyes were heavy and even as he forced them open, all he saw were shadows and light. Every breath was an effort. The pain seemed to have gone. He felt like he was floating. Where was Gwen? Who were all these people talking to him?

He was tired. Perhaps a nap would help.


Light.

Arthur opened his eyes and winced. Pain radiated from his chest and he looked down at it. A blood stained bandage was wrapped tightly around him. But even in his confused state, Arthur could tell it was no ordinary wound. He'd been wounded before. It had never been like this.

"Don't move." Merlin called out from somewhere. "I told you about Sir Hector. When will you realise you should listen to me?"

Arthur wanted to retort but found his throat far too dry to do anything but croak.

Merlin finally appeared in front of the bed.

"You must be exhausted. A little more to the left and you would be dead. Now, we're just hoping that the poison in your system has all been flushed out." With a sighed, Merlin shook his head. "It's not looking good though."

"Gwen?" He rasped, ignoring Merlin's hint that his injuries might kill him.

"I didn't realise you were waking up now. I sent her to get some rest. She's been sitting by your side, fussing over your wounds the whole day. I imagine she'll be back first thing tomorrow morning."

Arthur sighed and a sharp pain shot through him. Any movement hurt and he was quite willing to lie in bed for a while. The fact that Gwen had been by his side cheered him up tremendously. His mood sank when he remembered what happened. What on earth was Sir Hector thinking? Was this a precursor to yet another attack on his kingdom? As much as wanted to, he couldn't lie in bed forever.

"Don't worry. Patrols have increased. Elyan has also increased security around our borders and Gwaine and Leon are with our traitorous knight, trying to find out who sent him. My money is on Morgana." It worried him sometimes how well Merlin knew him.

"Gwen - safe."

"She has guards on her all the time and Elyan made her move to the castle. It wasn't easy since she has no memories of how much Morgana seems invested in her death. Camelot will still be here tomorrow. Get some rest."

Too weak to argue with Merlin, Arthur merely grunted and lay in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. He spent his waking moments hoping that this wasn't the beginning of yet more conflict and wondering where Gwen was. Merlin stayed with him the whole night, checking his bandages and insisting he drink some foul liquid. Some time during the night, he must have finally fallen asleep. Dreams of Camelot in flames, of Gwen and Merlin dead plagued him and he jolted awake every few minutes. Merlin would watch him, worry marring his face, from a chair some distance away.

Once again, Morgana stood laughing as Camelot burned around him. Merlin lay dead on the ground and Gwen was in Morgana's clutches.

"How can a simple servant become queen? She has done nothing to deserve the throne." The dagger Morgana held at Gwen's throat moved.

"No!"

"Arthur?" A hand stroked his cheek and forehead. "Arthur."

It was a dream, he told himself as he struggled to open his eyes. Staring down at him was Gwen. Her face relaxed into a smile when his eyes opened and then suddenly, she was sobbing.

"Oh. I told myself not to cry," she mumbled as she covered her face with her hands. "Sorry."

He reached for her, ignoring the pain that shot through him. Immediately, she twined her fingers with his, lifting his hand to kiss it.

"Gwen," he whispered.

"I'm here. I'll always be here."

"Good." There was so much he wanted to say to her but his throat and voice refused to cooperate, so all he did was smile and squeeze her hand, even as the pain increased.

"I was so worried." For a while, she just stared at him, her eyes dark and full of emotions Arthur couldn't read. "When Merlin told me," Gwen sucked in a breath. "You were unconscious for so long -" Her breath was shuddery and she shook her head. "But you're going to be fine now." This time she smiled.

Arthur nodded. "I'll be fine," he said gruffly, all he could do in face of the physical pain and the swirl of emotions in him.

"Shh, I know it's painful to talk. Let me take care of you, hmm?" Her free hand touched his throat gently. Then, she untangled their hands, then bent down to lift a small bowl onto his bedside table. In silence, she wet a small piece of cloth, squeezed it then applied it gently to his face, his neck, his shoulders. She rinsed the cloth again, then moved to his chest. Her touch, more than anything, soothed Arthur and even the constant pain seemed to ebb as she cleaned him. Arthur kept his eyes on her hands, at the contrast between her darker skin and his paler one. Her strokes were confident and gentle, wiping around his bandage. Rinse, wipe, rinse, wipe. It was hypnotic, soothing and Arthur thought he couldn't love her more.

"I love you Guinevere," he said when she finally stopped.

And even though she only smiled in return, he could see the love and affection in her eyes. For now, it was enough, Arthur thought as sleep claimed him again.


AN: One more chapter! Thanks for reading and the comments. :)