Disclaimer: We probably wouldn't even have the first series if it were anything to do with me so I think it's safe to assume I'm nothing to do with the show.

A/N: So yeah, three weeks, but I got reason. Week one: no confidence following harsh review. Week Two: News and Feature Writing deadlines and interviewee suddenly taking ill and rushing to find a replacement. Week Three: I've come home for the holidays and been shopping and volunteering, this is technically my first day off so yeah here's your update. Hopefully I haven't screwed it up too bad and you can all forgive me for the lateness. As always I will send the preview for the next (and final) chapter to all reviewers and post it on my facebook page fb[dot]com/lady[dot]harker. One last thing. I'm already in the midst of planning another Merlin fic called Upon Reflection and if you could just take a few moments to say if you'd be interested in reading in it on the poll on my profile. Anyway I think that's everything. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Eleven: With the Eyes of an Angel

Leaning back against the foot of the tree Peter had forced him to sit by, Arthur resisted the urge to reach to his stomach for nearly the thousandth time. It wasn't entirely healed yet, any strenuous activity would most likely tear it open again which was unfortunate but to be honest considering what he'd just been told, it was the least of his concerns. There was a residual twinge from the wound and his fingers kept wanting to trace it to remind himself of how much he'd already been through to get here. Whether that went for or against the suggestion Peter had made was still kind of unclear.

"Okay…"

Peter was stood five feet away carefully watching each thought and emotion as it played across the Prince's face.

"So. What do you say?"

Arthur ran a hand down the side of his face quietly ignoring the headache that had slowly developed since he'd awoken. This was a big thing. It was bigger than big. This was a plan that could solve everything with such ease but to agree to it went against everything he'd ever been taught while growing up under his father's guidance.

Yet the more he thought upon it, the more he thought back over the lessons and the words that his father had spent years diligently drilling into him as a matter of course, Arthur found himself bombarded by another memory of his idiotic manservant.

Falling over his own feet as he went about his chores, groaning at joining the knights in training again despite obviously having no real upper body strength, smirking as he dodged yet another projectile Arthur hurled in his direction for his rudeness or as he tore back those damned curtains; those strangely reassuring moments of disconcerting wisdom the fool was occasionally able to display. Then the image of a distressed, raven-haired young boy curled up and shivering on Gaius' cot pushed itself forward in his mind.

Merlin was useless at defending himself at the best of times, physically incapable of holding up either a sword or shield to aid him, but now he was a child! Less than half his former size, he couldn't even use his normally remarkably long legs to get himself out of danger's harm as fast as he possibly could.

"Is there any other way I can save him?"

"Not that we have time to put into practice."

Arthur nodded before wincing as he remembered the pained look and the silent whimpers that filled his last memories of that familiar young boy. Those motions, those sounds and fears reminded him that right now there was an impossibly high chance Merlin was even younger than when they'd last seen each other. Even more helpless…

Regardless of what he knew, of what he believed, at that moment, Arthur knew there was only one answer to Peter's question.

"Alright."

Glancing up, he saw Peter lightly shaking his head. "You know you're insane, right? This could very well kill you."

"You suggested it."

"True," he tilted his head to the side as he considered something Arthur couldn't guess at, "but you're agreeing to it."

Arthur lowered his gaze again; focusing instead on his fingers as they shook lightly from the stinging cold that was nipping at them from the chilled air.

"If your father found out-"

"You honestly think I would tell my father of this?" If his father knew he was even entertaining the thought of this chance, he'd be disowned faster than you could say "deeply-rooted, ultimate betrayal".

"No, I suppose not." Peter took in the sight of Arthur sat there, clearly at war with himself over his decision and had the blond not spoken his mind, he would never have guessed which side of him was winning. Still, he thought as he reached out an arm, winning may have been a slightly-too-strong term as the man still didn't look entirely convinced of his own decision.

Arthur stared at the outstretched arm for a short while, sitting in quiet contemplation before taking it in a firm grip and pulling himself to his unsteady feet. Letting go, he realised Peter didn't match the motion and glanced up to look the sorcerer in the eye.

"Are you sure about this, Arthur?"

Barely a second passed before he resumed his tight hold on Peter's arm, squeezing it slightly. "I have to save Merlin."

Peter's dark eyes flashed with curiosity as his hold held tight. "Why?"

As he blinked, an old memory Arthur had moved on from but never forgotten played before his eyes. Merlin was stood in the middle of the hall, surrounded by knights and lords, all of them men of noble birth. This sole man was stood in the middle of them all, holding everyone's attention as he raised the goblet in a toast to the Prince, although others believed it to be to the King, before slowly downing the wine within. Arthur's chest was tight as he watched it, powerless to stop it and the imminent death of the idiot, either by sword or by poison.

Opening his eyes, the flash of a memory faded but the fear that gripped his chest remained. Merlin had been sure that drinking the wine would kill him and still he had done it. Time and again, no matter what was happening, he had always appeared to have Arthur's best interests at heart and maybe, just maybe this might be his chance to repay that loyalty.

"He would do the same were it me."

"So long as you're sure." Peter's grip released and Arthur unknowingly shook a bit of life back into his arm as the sorcerer raised his hands to grip at either side of the Prince's head. "I should warn you, this is really going to hurt."

With a half nod, Arthur took a deep breath and braced himself while Peter looked him directly in the eyes with a disconcerting stare.

As the sorcerer spoke, his words sounded somewhat heavy, strange and wholly unfamiliar, and something in Arthur's chest twisted in response.

"Da fortitudunem meam."

He just caught sight of Peter's eyes flashing gold before his mind near exploded.

The world before him went white and he felt the fierceness of power as it rushed past his mind, through his chest and seared like fire through every fibre of his being, reaching to fill him completely. Beyond his gasp of shock as it started, he hadn't taken a single breath and his chest was beginning to ache in complaint but he hadn't a clue how to make it stop, unable to even move.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped, his vision clearing, tainted as it was by a glittering brightness as he struggled to keep his eyes open.


As he finished speaking the spell, Peter watched as Arthur's eyes flared a startlingly bright gold and felt him tense as the power he couldn't use coursed through the Prince's chest and skittered along each of his limbs.

Feeling it move and pool in Arthur, Peter paid it little attention, instead focusing on trying not to overwhelm Arthur's body, secretly aware he was probably well past that point by now. It wasn't until Arthur's knees began to buckle that he tore his hands away, quickly hooking his arms under the blond's shoulders and just managing to keep him from collapsing completely.

"Arthur? Arthur!" Hoisting the guy upwards he saw Arthur's eyes still blazing gold beneath fluttering eyelids and bit his lip in worry as he managed to get no response. "Arthur, say something!"

"Ow…" Peter sighed at the quiet, pained groan; secretly grateful he hadn't killed the crown prince of Camelot. "You weren't joking."

Bracing himself in an attempt to get a better grip and not drop Arthur into an unsightly heap, Peter struggled, only just coping when the Prince finally managed to get one of his own shaky legs beneath him. It wasn't the best of support, trembling under the weight of the limp form of the Prince, but it was enough to let him maintain some small amount of dignity.

Peter ignored the mumble of protest Arthur made as he gently lowered him back into a sitting position against the tree again. The Prince's eyes had finally drifted closed but it was clear he hadn't fallen unconscious from the restless shifting and pained look of discomfort that adorned his face.

"Merlin…" Peter rolled his eyes at the quiet mumble and easily held Arthur down as he attempted to sit forward. "I have to…"

"Not yet, Arthur. But don't worry." Straightening up he felt his back click into place as he stretched, feeling slightly woozy. "There's still plenty of time to get yourself killed trying to save him."

Wearily pulling his eyes open, Arthur threw him a piercing glare which Peter either failed to notice or simply ignored as he took a few steps back. "You're not exactly filling me with confidence."

Finally catching the once-again blue-eyed look, Peter seemed unperturbed, merely shrugging. "Just giving my professional opinion."

"Well, thank you." Closing his eyes again, Arthur leant his head back. "But I don't want it."

Peter was saying something but the words just washed over him. He didn't feel too great; the tightness in his chest wasn't shifting while the pit of his stomach was twisting uncomfortably. Even so, as he felt the rough tree bark push against the back of his head, there was a gentle, reassuring hum that ran along his skin, banishing the cold and making him feel almost as though he was glowing.

"Arthur! Are you listening to me?" Looking up he saw Peter watching him, a look of anger on his face. "You're trying to get yourself killed aren't you?

"No!" Sitting forward his chest tightened again and he fell back hard against the tree.

Peter still looked angry but it was slowly falling away as he watched Arthur continually shifting in obvious confusion and discomfort. "How do you feel?"

Everything around Arthur seemed to be moving and not moving at the same time and he reached up to cover his eyes, holding them closed in a vain hope of anchoring himself somewhat. "Really strange."

"It'll do that. Just relax. Give it a while to adjust." Peter nodded, smiling slightly as Arthur shifted again. He placed a soothing hand on Arthur's shoulder to keep him still for two minutes and smiled wider as the Prince finally stilled. "I promise, you can go save the kid soon so just take it easy."


Arthur wasn't sure when exactly the sun had gone down, having drifted off only to wake up alone and bathed in the light of the risen moon. He hadn't a clue to the time or even which way to go.

Merlin's kidnapper could've left in any direction and had a day's head start on him and Peter, the man, the sorcerer in whom Arthur had placed all his trust, had just disappeared.

Yet as he'd looked around at the woods, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do, there was one direction, away from the glittering orb that was the moon on high, which he was continually drawn towards. Each time he passed over it with his eyes, there was something in his chest that reached out trying to encourage him forwards and, with his little knowledge on how magic worked and what on earth he was doing, he prayed that it was the way he needed.

And so, putting what little faith he had left into it, Arthur had followed that tug, that pull which was forcing him forward now, speeding past trees and covering more ground with each stride than he had believed humanly possible.

Forcing himself to try and go even faster, he hoped to God that he hadn't passed them or gone the wrong way. He had no idea the kind of distance that might have been put between them or even where they were heading but that didn't stop or slow him.

Nothing did.

Well nothing until his leg gave out, catching on a risen root that stuck up from the ground much like a small wooden arch and the Prince was sent tumbling across the earthen floor, forced to close his eyes against the debris it threw up.

It was only when he stopped, his chest heaving with each breath he took, that he even noticed how terrible he felt. Every muscle was aching, his head was pounding, his chest was tight and his tunic and hair were beginning to stick to his chest and forehead from all the sweat he hadn't realised he was covered in.

God, he felt awful!

Yet even with his sudden realisation he couldn't mistake the familiar gruff voice that came from a short way off. "You're supposed to be dead."

Restraining a shiver, Arthur steadily reached to his side, pushing himself up to a sitting position and immediately locked eyes with the very man he had been searching for. Having discarded his dark jacket, the light tunic he must have been wearing underneath stood out brightly against the darkness but there was no mistaking that face.

The fingers of Merlin's kidnapper quickly curled around the hilt of his sword, bracing to draw it out in order to strike the stupid boy down again.

"What are you going to do, Arthur?" Peter had asked him back in that clearing before he had fallen asleep. "When you find that man?"

Arthur had gazed at a section of floor with a look of pure anger and determination before near-growling his response. "If I allow him to live, he will keep coming back." And Peter had nodded his understanding, keeping quiet as to whether or not he agreed with the decision.

And now, there that man stood, only a few feet from Arthur, a mixture of confusion and anger twisting his fearsome face as he prepared to fight.

Taking a confident step forward, Arthur reached a shaky hand out and half-shouted the spell Peter had hastily taught him for this exact moment.

"Perdendum eum!"

His vision went white for a second and he felt the power explode out from his hand, hearing the cry it tore from the man's throat as it smashed him flat in the chest and threw him off into the forest. As the world blistered back into view Arthur swayed, attempting to blink away the sudden increased weariness that had overtaken him after the surprising display of power.

Glancing over to where the man had landed, Arthur's first instinct was to check that his opponent was actually dead. It was something he had come to learn from the battlefield, having had many an enemy feign death, either to survive to fight another day or launch an unexpected attack against an unsuspecting foe.

In fact he had taken a few steps forward, still intent on reassuring himself when a slight sudden unexpected sound caught at his attention, dragging his focus away to the small fire that had been behind that man.

And that's when Arthur saw Merlin.

At least he believed the small, clothing-swamped boy to be Merlin, for who else could the raven-haired child be.

Ignoring the protests of his increasingly tired body and disregarding what appeared to be a developing limp, Arthur hobbled around the flickering flames of the small fire, focusing on the back that was facing towards him. Slowly shuffling, he stopped when he was stood in front of the seemingly slumbering form at his feet.

"Don't be dead." Taking a sharp breath which he released in a gentle sigh, Arthur began to lower himself to his knees. "Please, don't be dead."

The small child didn't appear to be more than possibly six or maybe even seven years of age, huddled while swamped in the Prince's childhood clothing. With a half smile to himself, Arthur looked at the tired face, momentarily dismissing the blackened eye, and realised that even as a child there was no mistaking the boy for someone else.

It was Merlin.

Reaching out, his fingers brushed against the little boy's forehead, eyes desperately seeking out a response but finding nothing until he looked down at the boy's restrained arms and legs. Silently thanking Peter for the few spells the sorcerer had taught him, he passed his hand over the ropes. "Vinculis liberavit."

With a silent snap the binding ropes broke and Arthur tugged them away, flinching from the cry Merlin gave as his body was allowed to relax.

"Ssh." Mentally chiding himself as he reached out to reassure Merlin, Arthur noticed that the boy's left arm was twisted at an odd angle beneath him. Yet even with the obvious pain, as he turned to look at Merlin's face, he noticed his eyes still weren't open.

Moving his hand so that he was holding Merlin's face off the ground, he traced a thumb along the boy's cheek. The swelling around his eye looked painful and he had still to give a sign that he was awake. Surely if he had been asleep then the noise and motion, goodness surely the pain, would've awoken him.

"What happened to you?" his question was asked not to the boy but rather to the cold air that surrounded them, even though he still could not feel it, warded off as it was by the magic that was still within him.

Peter had said that he couldn't help Merlin, but after many demands from Arthur, had taught the necessary incantation to the Prince so he could undo what had been done to his manservant. With a cautionary glance to where the kidnapper still laid, he knew that it wasn't safe to risk him possibly waking up and catching them. Not after everything.

So carefully, taking great care not to knock Merlin's clearly broken arm, he lifted the boy from the ground and shifted his hold so he was cradling the young child to his chest. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to feel his manservant's evening breaths push against his equally heaving chest, taking solace in the fact that the boy was still alive.

The front of his tunic rumpled and opening his eyes he saw the fingers of Merlin's good arm tightly curled into the fabric and lightly pulling against him. Still his eyes were closed but Arthur counted the motion as a sign that Merlin knew he wasn't alone and smiled.

"Hush, Merlin. It's alright, I won't let him hurt you anymore. I promise" He gently rubbed the boy's back in an attempt to keep him calm and felt him relax slightly in his arms.

There was a slight shifting and Merlin gently tilted his head upwards, his eyes barely opened and looking to see who was above him. Arthur just pulled him closer, worriedly whispering to him to calm down and that everything was going to be fine and the small head fell down to lean against his chest once more.

"I promise."

Throwing one final cautionary look over the nearby trees, Arthur turned and began walking. His pace was slow and he stumbled more than once but he didn't stop putting one foot in front of the other, all the while clutching Merlin to his now heaving chest. With each step he would mention another one of the things he was going to have Merlin do once this was all over; polishing and cleaning and stable mucking and the usual things he'd threaten during their usual banter. The chilled silence that came back made his words seem hollow but he prayed that it was calming Merlin more than it was him.

Again, he lost pace of time, not stopping in his weary march until he fell to his knees in a wholly unfamiliar area of the forest.

He'd stopped talking nearly a half hour back, instead shifting his focus on not collapsing, knowing that if it were left to his luck, he'd probably end up landing on Merlin. Except now he felt ready to just give up.

Each breath of his was sounding more ragged and strained while he knew there was no chance he could get back to his feet again, not with the way they felt. If he was going to help Merlin before he gave in to exhaustion, which was a possibility that he could tell was not that far off, it had to be now.

Carefully he lowered Merlin to the floor, noticing as he drew his hands away that they were shaking and instinctually his hand reached to his stomach. His wound was seeping slightly and the slight trickle of blood quickly covered his fingertips, although the realisation didn't quite reach his brain which was continually telling him to give up and sleep already.

Reaching up, Arthur rubbed repeatedly at his weary eyes completely unaware of the small trails of blood that he was leaving in the wake of each motion. He was so tired and knew he was surely only minutes from completely losing any control over his current state of consciousness.

Looking at Merlin's peaceful face, the boy having long ago fallen asleep, Arthur prayed he could still remember the words he had struggled to learn as he placed his hand as close to Merlin's heart as possible.

"Nees…Nees eek…" He coughed, trying to dislodge the bile that was rising in his throat while not vomiting. When it didn't work he tried swallowing. "Nisi hic puer. Lib-" This time he was broken off by chest wracking coughs and leaned away from Merlin, promptly emptying his stomach of what little nourishment there was to be found in there.

With a final deep breath as he placed his hand back on Merlin's chest, he shouted the words, forcing each of them out his mouth before something else happened that would try to prevent him.

"Nisi hic puer! Libera animam eius!"

Arthur took a sharp breath as the unfamiliar magic blinded him, his vision going white again and he panicked but fought against his instinct to draw back. Blinded as he was, Arthur didn't see the magic as it left his hand, guided by his golden eyes to surround the boy and encompass him in a soothing and reassuring golden glow.

"Reddat eum!"

Peter hadn't told him that part and they were not words that he knew, falling from his lips with ease although he knew nothing of what they were meant to do. But something about the words, commanding and angered as they were, seemed to spur the glowing magic into action, shifting and growing until it was almost twice as big as before.

Then the glowing began to subside, small spots of gold floating up from the prone form before dissipating into the darkness. Soon, more than half the glow was gone and visible beneath was a lanky form with a familiar face, big ears, high cheekbones and unmistakable dark hair.

Yet as the spell continued and revealed more of the restored man, including the lengthened clothes he wore, the more Arthur realised he'd gone too far. His still sightless eyes were threatening to close while his tired and weary shoulders began to sag but still he kept his hand over his manservant's heart.

Just as the final spots of glittering restoration floated through the rapidly lightening night air, the Prince's body just about gave out, his hand slipping from its hold as he fell sideways, eyes firmly drawn shut.

Not half an hour later, the sun was almost fully risen, illuminating the two young men of Camelot and bathing them in a perfectly natural glow. Neither of them knew that the other was perfectly alright and had you come across them as they laid there, the feet of one by the head of the other, you could easily have told as both had one hand reaching out towards their companion subconsciously seeking to see their fate but both perfectly asleep and unaware.

And it was in this position that Uther's Knights found them in but a few hours later.


There were many voices mixing together around Arthur when he finally became aware again. All of them sounded frantic and a few were shouting. In anger? He couldn't quite tell, but they certainly were quite harsh and very loud.

There were a series of indignant cries by a voice that he was almost able to place. It was a voice he trusted but the sounds of his protests were not the usual tone he would normally expect of it; at least that is how it seemed, the cries instantly familiar yet in an unusual way. This different tone encouraged him to rise but his greatly weakened body held him firmly in place on the comforting sheets he was laid upon now.

Every muscle in his body ached and he felt completely drained, barely managing to gather the energy to force his eyes open but all he could make out before him was a darkened figure who may or may not have said something to him before his eyes were drawn closed again.

Try as he might, Arthur couldn't seem to muster the drive to try and look about him again nor aid the decreasing protesting voice, instead sinking back against whatever he was laid on and settling for drifting back to the blissfully inviting unawares.


It was decidedly silent the next time he was dredged out of unconsciousness. No frantic or angered voices nearby, no one breathing nor anyone seemingly waiting for him to awake. A small part of him was disappointed.

"I told you not to overdo it."

Restraining a groan and keeping his eyes closed, Arthur slowly recalled some of his less blurred memories from back in the clearing.

"And I told you I never wanted to see you again." He was surprised at how strained his own voice sounded, though whether it came from lack of use or his dry scratchy throat, he wasn't entirely sure.

"Trust me, the feeling is entirely mutual."

Opening his eyes, Arthur noticed the grey stone ceiling above him and indeed the bed beneath him were both his own, familiar and somewhat reassuring. As he glanced down towards the end of his bed, he saw Peter stood just beside the post, half-leaning against the wooden support.

"Then why exactly are you stood at the foot of my bed?"

Peter quirked an eyebrow, internally debating whether Arthur was fully coherent yet considering there was only three things he could be there for; himself, the Prince or the manservant.

"I thought you'd want to know about Merlin."

"Merlin?" Arthur slowly forced himself up from his rumpled sheets until he was more or less sitting up, leaning forward slightly and breathing rather heavily at the strain caused by the movement. "Is he alright? Did it work?" Carefully he searched through his last memories but the only ones he found were of the young boy he'd found out in the forest. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to restrain the panic growing beneath it.

"He's fine. Better than you at least." Raising his eyes to gaze at the ceiling before lowering it to Arthur again. "If you ignore the fact that your father has thrown him in the dungeons."

"What?" Arthur felt his strapped up ribcage twinge at the shout and holding a hand to his chest he bit down the groan that tried to force its way forth. "What in the name of sanity would he do that for?" Merlin hadn't done anything wrong!

"I think," he held out a finger in emphasis, "think it may possibly be nothing more than a slight knee-jerk reaction."

"To what?" Peter remained silent and Arthur raised angry eyes to glare at him. The man's eyes were firmly settled upon the bed linen beside the Prince and the royal felt his anger spike. "What did you do?" Peter's dark eyes flitted up to meet his gaze before quickly moving away again. "Peter!"

"You were dying, Arthur." His harsh words cut across the Prince's cry, silencing him. "Literally wasting away and he wasn't leaving your side."

Realisation slowly dawned on him and Arthur was surprised at the shock and lack of anger there was in his own voice. "You used magic on him."

He shrugged. "It was just a bit of…persuasion. Just to nudge him enough to get him out of the room."

"Are you insane?" Using sorcery on the King who had outlawed its very existance, never mind practice, was nothing short of suicidal, not to mention the thought that the King's mind had been so easily manipulated

"If it makes you feel any better, I tried the same thing on Merlin, but-"

He near jumped out of the bed, ignoring the flaring pain in his chest that throbbed in protest. "You WHAT?"

"-BUT it didn't seem to affect him." Peter stepped forward and forced Arthur to lean back down again. "That boy is every bit as stubborn as you are." he let out a slight laugh. "I swear, you two will be the death of each other if you're not careful."

Arthur held out a hand and pointed it accusingly at the man stood before him, his eyes flashing with anger. "Merlin's suffered more than enough at the hands of your magic already. How dare you!"

"I said it didn't work, didn't I? Besides I was cutting it close as it was. You were drawing your last breaths when I turned up." He raised his hands in a slight defense. "And if my influence had worked, he wouldn't be your father's prisoner now would he?"

The Prince's anger sank at the reminder, an image of Merlin huddled in a cell dragging his determination out. He hadn't done everything he had out in the seclusion in the forest only to lose the fool to his own father! Of course, there was only one thing for him to do.

"I'll speak with my father."

Peter nodded, a smug half-smile communicating his approval as he turned away towards the other end of the room. Stopping halfway through the motion, the sorcerer turned on his heel. "Go easy on him, Arthur. Merlin I mean. I don't think he's quite realised that everything's back to normal now, including himself."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"His focus has been somewhat…" reaching out with a hand, he hald-heartedly indicated the bed upon which Arthur lay, "…otherwise occupied."

Leaning against his flat palm Arthur resisted the urge to groan. If Peter meant what he believed the man to mean, Merlin had been worrying over him. The Stupid. Selfless. Idiot.

His mental image of Merlin in the dungeons shifted. Now he was huddled in a corner, sat in a puddle that had amassed near the small barred window the allowed sunlight to filter into the dank, dismal, damp room. His eyes clouded with confusion and swamped in clothes that for some reason were too big for him.

It was at this point he realised that the Merlin he'd been imagining was the younger, smaller one he'd last seen out in the woods. Shaking his head he tried to force the image to shift into the ordinary manservant he knew; the way he remembered Merlin from the day they'd investigated that blasted house. All the motion did was make his head ache.

Glancing up, he carried another question about Merlin on his lips but the words were lost as he saw Peter had already gone, leaving the blond Prince to his own thoughts and company. And as helpful and wise as the damned sorcerer had been, Arthur hoped that this time would be their final meeting.

Bracing himself against the matress, the Prince pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself against the nearby cabinet while he waited for the room to stop moving. Rest, was probably what Gaius would prescribe were he there, plenty of refreshing, recuperating, rejuvenating rest to be had from the comfort of the royal bed he had just left, but Arthur cared little for the prospect. Gaius wasn't there and he had a manservant to rescue.

Again.


A/N: good guess, Steffi ;)