Sorry about the long wait but here's the next chapter.

A big thank to everyone still following and reading! Also a big thank you to the reviewers Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967, Prety (I have an idea for the ending but I need to write the chapters leading up to it, so I won't spoil it for you) and vampireprincessofempire

I've tried to check for spelling and grammatical mistakes but I apologise if I'm missed any, please send a message if you find any!

Enjoy! ~


Feeling

Camelot's streets bustled with activity as its inhabitants went about their desired tasks, some eager to smell the various foods cooking from different fires, others excited to see the wares on sale. Women gossiped as they shopped, some laughing at the outrageous rumours circling around the city, whilst some men laughed and joke as they worked. This merriment was suddenly cut short as citizens fled away from the road as Camelot's famous knights thundered through on their horses.

Some people cursed as others stared in curiosity, causing the rumours to direct their attention to the young ward bundled in Prince Arthur's arms. Something serious had happened. Like wildfire, the marketplace soon became riddled with various ideas and scandals.

With beads of sweat silently running down his face, Arthur's eyes travelled down to Emma's unconscious form, the paleness of her skin reflecting the seriousness of her condition, her breathing had become short shallow pants. She had worsened on the journey.

She was running out of time.

Roaring under the metal portcullis into the courtyard, Arthur almost jumped from his moving steed as Gains waited atop the small set of steps.

"Gaius, we don't have much time."

"Take her to her room, quickly."

Following his instructions, Arthur kept Emma in his arms as he almost ran through the corridors and stairwells of the castle, towards her room. Gaius and Merlin were close behind as the young warlock explained how Emma had ended up in such a state, and how he, in vain, tried to treat her, self - defeat lacing every word.

Ignoring the conversation behind him, Arthur kicked open her wooden door and as gently as he could he placed Emma on her bed, wiping the sweat off her brow with his sleeve. Standing back, the young prince hovered as Gaius began to work, hesitating as he began to remove her shirt to expose the angry red and purple wound, mocking him as he watched.

With great reluctance, Arthur removed himself from the room, forcing himself to go and make a report to his father. With one last lingering look at her face, Arthur entrusted Emma's life into the old experienced physician's hands, as he prayed to himself that she should live.


Sunlight streamed through Emma's bed curtains as she awoke to the feeling of absolute calm. Her head felt surprisingly clear and the once raging pain in her shoulder blade was now a continuous ache.

Sitting herself up against her pillows, Emma could not help but smile to herself, Arthur and Merlin had kept their promise. They had brought her back. Moving her one leg out of the bed, her foot touching the cold smooth wooden floor, Emma slowly slid herself from the warmth of the sheets. Preparing herself to stand, Emma ignored the protest from her rested muscles.

"You. Stay."

Arthur's voice cut through the peaceful silence of the room, causing Emma to jump slightly.

Sat in one of the ornately carved wooden chairs that accompanied the small table in her room, Arthur sat, a piece of parchment in hand. Subconsciously Emma smiled at him.

"Arthur Pendragon in my room? I'm honoured."

Ignoring his order, Emma stood, taking a few moment to find her balance, she walked over to her mirror, taking a quick look over her shoulder as she felt Arthur's eyes following her every movement, she tried to give a reassuring look. Emma's bright eyed reflection stared back at her, observing the colour in her face, the neatness of her hair and the clean nightgown she was now wearing. Emma was too happy to be alive to begin to grow annoyed or worried at someone changing her clothes.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur's voice expressed his surprise as Emma moved her nightgown off her shoulder, turning it towards the mirror. Seeing the length of bandage covering the wound, Emma began to attempt to pry it open as she observed Arthur's disapproving glare.

"Don't worry, I'm just trying to see how bad it is."

"Well, don't, you'll make it worse. Leave it."

Emma debated whether or not to ignore Arthur's words, however, the tightness of the bandages and the layers wrapped around the shoulder seemed to go in Arthur's favour, in the end she did as she was told. Emma covered her shoulder back up, earning a sigh off the young prince as she walked over and relaxed into the chair next to him.

"So, what's happened? What have I missed?"

Arthur leant back into his chair, placing the parchment next to the ink pot and quill on the table.

"Honestly, nothing much. Camelot's been quite quiet."

"And I've been unconscious how long? "

"Three days."

Their eyes met for a brief second as Emma processed the amount of time she had skipped, unaware of the danger she had been in and how Arthur had watched her suffer and expected to witness her last breath as she struggled to fight the infection. The silence went on for a few moments as Emma's head swam with questions.

"Did you find who attacked us?"

Arthur grimaced, a fierce glint appeared in his eyes.

"No, but."

"But?"

"They were wearing stolen armour, you could tell from how they wore it, we also found the bodies of the soldiers they stole it from hidden in the woods."

Emma tried to keep the panic and fear from her voice.

"So who were they? Why did they attack us?"

Her hands turned white with the grip she had on the arms of the chair, as Arthur leant his head against the back of his chair, his blue eyes glazing over in thought as he focused on the ceiling above.

"Arthur?"

He blinked, debating his answer.

"Most probably Mercenaries. But we can't be sure."

"Why would someone send them?"

Sighing, Arthur averted his gaze, growing weary of where the conversation had gone.

"We don't know, we don't know who paid them, their identity, nothing. There was no evidence, only bags of coin."

Silence descended again as Arthur watched Emma's eyes darken.

"What does this mean for Camelot? Are we at war? What are we going to do?"

"Nothing," Arthur's reply was blunt, startling Emma a little. "Unless someone was to claim responsibility or a piece of evidence comes to light, there's nothing we can do."

Emma suddenly felt weary, tired with the fear of uncertainty that usually followed the stirring of war.

"Oh!" A thought suddenly popped into Emma's mind, causing her to sit bolt straight. "I almost forgot to thank you!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow in disbelief, one moment they were having a very serious conversation, the next, Emma had completely changed the subject by the wondering of her thoughts.

"Are you still feverish?"

Arthur raised his hand to her forehead, checking for a temperate, Emma moved his hand and held it loosely within her own.

"I do mean it though," Emma gave a small smile, hoping to show sincerity in her gratitude. "Thank you for saving me."

"Gaius saved you, you should be thanking him."

"But you got me back, we were so far from Camelot, you brought me to safety."

Someone behind them cleared their throat, startling the both of them. Immediately, Emma realised Arthur's hand was still in own causing her to drop it quickly as blood rushed to her face in embarrassment.

Gaius stood with his arms crossed, a secret smile and a knowing glint in his old experienced eyes.

"You should be in bed resting."

Emma sighed loudly.

"But I'm sat on a chair, please Gaius. I feel fine, can't I go out?"

The old physician exchanged a glance with the young Prince.

"My dear, you almost died. You may feel fine now but your body has been through a traumatic experience. You need rest."

Emma turned to Arthur to plea for freedom and immediately regretted it, as Arthur stared at her with a no nonsense expression.

"You. Bed. Now."

Giving a mocking military salute, Emma climbed back into bed, Gaius instantly appearing by her side. From his hands, Gaius produced a small vial of red liquid.

"Here, drink this."

"I don't want to know what is in this, do I?"

"Not really, no."

With a sceptical face, Emma swallowed it in two gulps, as soon as it travelled down her throat, she had to fight the urge to gag.

"What was that?"

"Something to fight the infection. Now I will be back later to check on you."

Gaius turned, giving the Prince a slight bow before leaving, Arthur nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Arthur observed Emma fighting against the taste of Gaius' potion, whilst he noticed her earlier embarrassment of Gaius' arrival still adorned her face.

Clearing his throat, Emma's eyes automatically met his.

"I'd better go and give this my Father, he's probably expecting it." Arthur held up the parchment from earlier.

"Do you have to go now?"

"We both have our duties and Gaius said you need rest."

"Fine,"

"You'd better do as Gaius said."

"Yeah, yeah."

Arthur stood and moved towards the wooden door, the entrance to Emma's room, his hand reached out to the metal handle as he looked over his shoulder. Emma gave a small wave and a smile as he left.

She relaxed back into her pillows, listening to the signs of life outside, staring at the canopy above, thoughts soon weaved into consciousness until a sudden realisation almost winded her.

The constant bickering, her increased heart rate in his presence, the insane worry she felt when he was away and the joy she felt at his smile.

Emma liked Arthur. More than friends, more than a brother. She had a crush on him.

Feeling her brow drop into a frown, Emma gasped in anger at herself. How on Earth did she allow this to happen? Did she know how much harder she was going to make it on herself when she would find someone to send her home? And if she couldn't, would she be able to stand at his side and watch him suffer either by Morgana or Gwen?

Emma almost crossed herself, hoping the legend was wrong and her friends were just the victims of centuries old bad propaganda.

She couldn't do this, she could not fall in love with Arthur. It wasn't fair on either of them.

It was within that moment, Emma just wanted her mother to walk through the door, with a sympathetic ear and a warm hug, to tell her everything was going to be alright.

However, she didn't, it was impossible. Emma was trapped, alone, confused and honestly frightened by the complex of emotions rushing through her. Not knowing what else to do, Emma burst into tears. Clutching onto her pillow, she curled up, allowing her sobs to echo around the chamber, too emotional to sense the figure leaning on the other side of the door, unsure of what he should do. Arthur silently cursed his father for listening to her stupid plan, cursing Emma for running out to save him and almost dying as a result and cursed himself for not being able to open the door and comfort her.