A/N: Thank you GuestM Live, Buckhunter, and SnidgetHex for reviewing!

No. 28 Anger Born of Worry

Arthur paced in the hallway outside Lancelot's room. "Why does he always have to be so self-sacrificing!" he ranted to Gwen, who was standing out of his way against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"It's who he is," she replied, quietly distraught.

"Well, he's an idiot."

He turned on his heel and stormed down the opposite length of the path he was wearing in front of the closed door. Gaius and Merlin were inside, trying their best to save the stupid fool. Lancelot shouldn't have taken Arthur's place like that. Never mind that Arthur would then be the one lying in that bed, barely clinging to life, maybe even dead. And yes, everyone had a point by saying, "What would become of Camelot without its king?" But was that supposed to make it easier to watch one of his closest friends die instead? Again? Because it didn't.

Arthur was on his umpteenth pass when the door finally opened and he whirled toward it, holding his breath for the news.

Gaius emerged, looking haggard. "I've done all I can," he said soberly. "The next two days will determine the outcome."

"How is he?" Gwen asked tremulously.

"Resting."

"Can we see him?" Arthur asked.

Gaius stepped back to allow them entrance.

Merlin was puttering around the room, refilling a bowl of water and collecting bloodied towels. Lancelot was lying in bed, chest wrapped in bandages, one arm strapped across his stomach in a firm sling. He looked white as death, but his eyes cracked open blearily at them.

Arthur regarded his knight for a beat, then cleared his throat. "I'd like a moment alone."

The others hesitantly left, closing the door behind them.

Arthur took a seat beside the bed. "I'm very unhappy with you, Lancelot," he said tersely.

Lancelot's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You had no right to do what you did," Arthur went on.

"I had every duty to," he rasped out.

"You have a duty to follow your king's command," Arthur countered. "And I never would have allowed it."

Lancelot's mouth quirked faintly. "That's why I didn't give you a chance to forbid it."

Arthur glowered at his friend, not amused. "I'm forbidding it now, and you sacrificing yourself in the future."

Lancelot's eyes softened with kindness but also resolve. "With all due respect, my lord, I can't follow that order."

"You've done it twice now," Arthur snipped. "Someone else can have a turn."

Lancelot just looked at him. "You wouldn't have anyone else do such a thing either."

"No," he admitted, "I wouldn't."

Lancelot closed his eyes and focused on breathing for a few moments, then started to speak again. "All my life, I've only ever wanted to serve. And if my death is a form of service, I have no regrets doing it."

"Those you leave behind do," Arthur snapped.

"I am sorry for that."

They fell quiet again, until a burst of pain made Lancelot suck in a sharp breath and wince.

Arthur leaned closer. "You better survive this. That is your king's command."

Lancelot smiled weakly. "I will do my best, Sire."

"Good. And if you disobey me like this again, it'll be a week in the dungeon."

Lancelot just nodded, a glint in his pain-filled eyes that he would gladly accept such results if it meant he'd protected his loved ones.

And Arthur admired that about him.

Even if it made him want to throttle his friend sometimes.