A/N - So this is more like 3(b) – just a little after-battle action that would have made the last chapter way way too long… Plus, virtual cookies go to Pink Koala for spotting an absent Gaius… oh wait here he is ;)

4. The Morning After the Fight Before

In the cruel light of dawn, the Pendragon Castle was a sorry sight to behold. Pale columns of smoke curled their way into the morning air from the burnt-out ruin of the main building, its blackened stones weakened and cracked by the flames. Debris, refuse and the victims of battle littered the surrounding area as work began in earnest to bury the dead and attend to the wounded.

Uther stood solemnly next to his brother as the body of Alwyn the Benevolent was brought forward and placed on a bier, his Druid compatriots wrapping him tightly in linen cloth lined with cloves, in preparation for the journey back to his home settlement where he would be properly cremated.

Aurelius approached Abraith, a peer of Alywn who was leading his fellow Druids home in place of the great leader, "Is there anything more I can offer you to aid your journey my friend?" he asked, grasping the shorter man's arm sincerely.

"You have given us horses and provisions my Lord," he replied with a sad smile, "We Druids are simple people, we would ask for nothing more." Aurelius's eyes searched Abraith's for a moment, the older Druid sagging slightly under his scrutiny and the burden of the news he must carry home to his people.

"If it were not for Alwyn's sacrifice, I fear that all would have been lost yesterday… we are ever in your debt."

"Your debt is not to us alone my King, it is to all the people of Albion," counselled the Druid, "It is a debt that can be repaid only in your sound rulership and your oath to restore peace to the land and drive the enemy Saxons out."

"You speak wisely Abraith," he replied gravely, "and rest assured, that debt shall be paid in full. The weight of the crown is a responsibility I shall not take lightly."

"That I know Aurelius," rejoined the Druid with a small smile, grasping his arm by way of farewell, "Alwyn could see Constantine's heart beating inside your chest – Albion will rejoice under your reign as it did your Father's before you."

"Kind words my friend, and ones that I shall strive to live up to," said Aurelius sincerely, "I will see to it that Alwyn is honoured for his sacrifice… safe journey to you all."

The simple wooden bier was lifted onto the waiting shoulders of eight of the red-robed men and the small band of Druids slowly began their sombre journey. As the last members of their party made their way out of the remains of the courtyard, Aurelius turned at last to his brother, taking in his appearance for the first time since victory had been declared.

"You are injured Brother," he said, gesturing at the dried blood matted into his hair and the gory mess of the open wound that snaked its way across his forehead, "We must fetch a physician."

"There are others in a far worse state that I, Balinor for one cannot last much longer," Uther replied, his eyes glancing around at the unending groups of men lying wounded on the ground. Some were moaning pitifully to themselves, clutching rough bandages to their seeping cuts, the worst of them simply staring into nothingness, their injuries untended and their life's blood trickling into the ground, making the dirt take on a gruesome coppery hue. Balinor himself lay on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled with the pain. His skin was a deathly pale and his leg had become grey and cold as the blood had been cut off for too long by the tourniquet. "Besides," he added, "there are no physicians to be found Aurelius; we are patching up the men as best we can."

Aurelius nodded slowly, his eyes revealing the weight of the monumental task still ahead. The war had been won but the continuing battle to restore order and security to the land would be a long one. "What of Gaius?" he asked suddenly, "I was sure I saw his face after the battle, has he too been slain?"

"No Sire – but he was discovered tending the wounds of our enemies," replied Uther gravely, "He has been restrained and is with the other traitors awaiting trial for their crimes against the crown."

The older brother stared at his sibling for a moment, mentally taking stock of the injured and the wounded that surrounded them before nodding his head as if agreeing with his own internal dialogue, "Bring him before me at once, I would speak with him now."

"As you wish Brother," confirmed Uther, baffled at his intentions but obedient to his command none-the-less.

A guard was dispatched to fetch the good Doctor and within moments a weary, battered looking Gaius stood stoically before them, no trace of remorse or fear in his eyes.

Aurelius regarded the physician for a while, taking in his greying brown hair, his earnest blue-grey eyes and his unflinching stance before him. "What say you to the charge of treason Gaius?"

"I deny it my Lord," he replied calmly.

"And do you deny that you aided the enemy of the crown as well?"

"No my Lord."

"That is a contradiction is it not?" demanded Aurelius in frustration. "Tell me outright, where do your loyalties lie?"

"As a man Sire, I serve you with all my heart and strength," confirmed Gaius, "But as a physician, I have no such distinction."

"Speak plainly man!"

"My loyalties, Sire, do not lie with man nor crown," he reiterated categorically, "My loyalties are wholly with the sick and those in need of my care."

Again the new ruler of Albion stared thoughtfully at the older man, puzzling out his frank and honest responses, "And that would include sworn enemies of the kingdom?"

Gaius took a deep breath, weighing each word carefully upon his tongue, "I wonder my Lord," he said at last, "How well you would trust my skills as a physician if I had such loyalties that could be swayed – instead of a solemn oath to help all that approach me for aid?"

Aurelius pondered on those words for a moment, then the look of distrust suddenly cleared from his eyes and a broad grin spread across his face, "You are right of course Gaius, old friend," he said jovially, clapping him soundly on the back, "Guards, unbind him at once, he has work to attend to!"

"Thank you Sire," Gaius replied, as if no other outcome had been possible.

"You must see to Balinor first," urged Uther, guiding the physician in the direction of the wounded Dragonlord, "I fear death will almost surely be upon him before too long."

"I beg you my Lord to also release my assistants from bondage," asked Gaius, turning away from Uther's insistent grip to look imploringly at the king, "If I am to properly treat these men I must have help, there are simply too many for me to attend to at once."

"Of course, of course," agreed Aurelius, waving impatiently at a nearby guard to carry out his request.

The three men approached the prone form of Balinor; a thin sheen of sweat coated his face and neck and his eyes flickered up toward them beneath dark and hooded lids. Gaius busied himself immediately, inspecting the wound to his upper thigh and calling for hot water, cloth for bandages and a quartering iron to be brought to him with haste.

"I will have to sear the flesh to close the wound," he stated gravely to Aurelius, "I must ask you to distract him as best you can," he then looked intently at Uther and a young knight stood to his left named Tegwin. "You will need to restrain him Prince Uther, hold him as still as you can."

"You have one more trial to face, brave Dragonlord," said Aurelius, addressing Balinor loudly as he sat himself by his head and grasped his right arm in his own, "then you may have the rest that you deserve."

"I am not brave…" wheezed Balinor, his face grimacing in pain as Gaius carefully began to clean the mangled mess of tissue and bone that had previously resembled the man's thigh, "I am not… ready for death."

"Glad to hear it!" declared Aurelius, "For we shall chase death screaming for the hills."

Balinor slowly reached his hand out and gripped the new king's wrist, "You saved my life yesterday," he whispered urgently, his breathing ragged and wet.

"It is not safe yet," interjected Gaius, his eyes never straying from the wound before him. The mutilated limb was now clean and with a low murmuring of words, the physician passed his hands slowly over the flesh.

"What was that?" asked Uther curiously.

"A simple healing incantation that I hope will help to numb the pain… although," he confessed, "I am just a novice of such arts."

Ignorant of these preparations, Balinor looked earnestly at the king, "I have never seen a man… fight as bravely as you…" he said, struggling for breath, "I am forever indebted to you…"

"Yes, yes," conceded the dark haired man with a smile and a wave, brushing off the compliments like grains of corn, "and the minstrels and the troubadours shall sing songs to recount my fame and the womenfolk will all name their babies after me."

"An honour indeed," rasped Balinor quietly, "to be named for a King."

Aurelius glanced quickly at Gaius who was preparing the quartering iron, stoking the length of metal again and again amongst the flames of a fire that had been burning fiercely since the day before, "And you Balinor?" he asked loudly, drawing his eyes from the dreaded sight, "you too would have your son named for a King?"

"I would my Lord."

The king looked at him thoughtfully before grasping his shoulder in earnest, "Then you must honour Alwyn for his sacrifice also; name your Son for the Druid form of my name Aurelius Ambrosius-"

A piercing scream erupted from Balinor's throat as Gaius touched the red hot metal to the sensitive flesh of his leg, Uther and Tegwin struggling desperately to keep him restrained as Aurelius gripped his shoulders in support.

"Bite down on this," he instructed, thrusting a length of worn leather between the Dragonlord's teeth. Balinor's palsied fingers shook at he clutched frantically at his king, his eyes bulging and his veins throbbing in his head and neck as he struggled to ride the wave of white hot pain shooting through his body.

As Gaius finally lay down the glowing length of metal, Balinor slowly relaxed, his breath escaping his lungs in broken gasps.

"There now, that was not so bad was it!" declared Aurelius with a grin as Gaius began to prepare a balsam of herbs to spread across the seared flesh.

Balinor barked once in humourless mirth, "Better that than death Sire."

"Well said indeed," agreed Aurelius with a smile as he rose to leave Gaius to his work; the worst of it over.

"My Lord!" Balinor called after him, "You did not tell me the Druid form of your name."

Aurelius paused for a moment, clasping the Dragonlord's hand kindly in his own, "Emrys," he said simply, "The Druid form of my name Ambrosius… is Emrys. It means immortality."

Balinor closed his eyes, committing the name to memory, "I just wish Sire, that I had a Son for which to name," he uttered sadly.

"One day you will my friend… one day."