Just as Percival looked ready to nod off, having not left Gwaine's side for the rest of the day and well into the evening, Lancelot had knocked softly on the door and entered. The two knights exchanged a few quiet words, of which Gwen only heard, "I'll look after him for you," and with a sad nod, Percival stumbled out.

Although she and Gaius generally tried to be quiet, Merlin and the knights tended to speak and move quite loudly for being in the room of someone so ill. Right now Lancelot was telling Merlin how boring things would be around Camelot if not for Sir Gwaine:

"I can hardly begin to describe how depraved his behavior is," Lancelot went on, with an odd grin on his face, "and how ignoble, and how much I think that would please him to hear me say that—but he is honorable, and one of the best men I've ever met. Why, he—"

"Sir Lancelot," she admonished, "I think you should keep your voice down."

"No, Gwen—er, milady—" Merlin stammered, his face flushing, still negotiating how he was meant to talk to his friend-turned-queen, "I-it's all right. I know it makes no sense, but Gwaine seems to sleep easier when he can hear our voices…" As if to prove this point, he trailed off, plunging the room into a profound silence. Almost immediately Gwaine frowned, shifted weakly, and a small, abandoned whine crawled out of his chest, until Lancelot quickly laid a hand on his arm and, "Easy, mate, I'm still here," he said, glancing at Gwen.

Gwen marveled at this, and shook her head, though with what she knew of Gwaine, she really oughtn't to have been surprised. "Very well," she smiled. "I stand corrected."

Later that night, Elyan returned for a shift, and Lancelot traded places graciously. She sat and talked with her brother in low tones, but loud enough, telling Elyan about when she had first met Gwaine and his hopeless but endearing attempts to impress her. Gaius and Merlin bustled around making ever new and more potent draughts and salves to try against the fever—which was high and steady—and beginning to make her nervous, actually—occasionally asking her to stir or grind something, but mainly leaving her to tend Gwaine's fever the old-fashioned way, with a cloth and a bowl of water.

She didn't want to say anything, but it seemed to be doing very little good.

…

Merlin was beginning to be irritated by the rotating knight act, though he knew they had as much of a right and a desire to be here as he did. That day and night passed without incident, except for the regular changing of the guard. When Leon showed up, early in the morning, and he and Gwen had muscled Elyan off to bed, apparently, it was with the express purpose that Sir Leon would have room to pace.

Leon paced when he was worried.

And that got in Merlin's way, and—tonight more than any other time—on his nerves.

"Sir Leon, can't you sit down?" Merlin snapped, somewhat unintentionally, as Leon blocked his way to the herbs.

Sir Leon looked aghast: not that a servant had just shouted at him, but because he realized immediately that he was impeding progress. "Oh! Merlin, forgive me, I didn't mean to…" He sat, quickly, folded his hands in his lap, trying to fold his lanky frame into as small an area as possible.

Merlin regretted his outburst immediately. "No, it's all right, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you," he grumbled, going to the herbs.

Leon frowned. "No apology needed. I think we're all a little worn down. I am deeply sorry for being in your way. Is there anything I can do to help?" he was looking a little wistfully at the motionless figure of Gwaine. Gaius was bending over him now, trying to administer a new potion.

"No, thank you," Merlin said.

There was silence for a long time. Then, "You know, it took me the longest to forgive Arthur for knighting Gwaine," Leon said. "The others could be taught, the others behaved. Lancelot, he's perfect, Elyan's quick, Percival will do anything to please, but Gwaine…" he chuckled. "I wanted to kill him every other day for the first few months. He was reckless, couldn't follow orders, didn't even know how to hold a sword—and yet managed to best me in practice nine times out of ten, anyway." Leon sighed, remembering. "He certainly stirred things up a bit, made me re-assess my tactics. We're a better unit because of him."

It was also making Merlin a bit angry that they were talking about Gwaine as if he was dying.

"You know, if he can hear you, he's going to be irritated at you for talking about him in the third person," Merlin said, with a sad smile.

It was pretty clear that Gwaine wasn't hearing anything right now.

Leon blinked rapidly, also smiling. "Yes. I certainly hope he can hear me, because I'd never say this to him while he was conscious."

The door opened.

"Arthur!" Gwen said. Everyone leapt to their feet. The king looked haggard. He had cleaned and changed, and didn't look as if he had slept, but looked no better for it, and was wearing a scowl.

"Sir Leon."

"Sire."

"I believe I told you and the knights to get some rest."

"Yes, Sire," Leon said, not wanting to argue with Arthur when he was clearly in A Mood (Merlin knew that worry generally made Arthur into more of a grouch than usual). "I was just on my way out." And Leon was gone.

The room was silent.

"How is he?" Arthur demanded.

Gaius cleared his throat. "He is very weak, Sire. The fever is proving most difficult to quell. We are doing all we can."

"Your prognosis?"

Merlin's heart caught in his throat.

Gaius paused. "I…could not say, Sire."

"Yes, you can, and you will." Arthur was bossy when he was worried.

Merlin felt suddenly, painfully ill. Arthur may have wanted a straight answer, but Merlin certainly didn't want to hear it. He had practically avoided talking to Gaius because of it, and had told himself the physician's scowl was deeper than usual because he was irritated at all the knights getting in his way, too.

But Merlin knew that wasn't true. He recognized his own foul mood was more a stage of grief than anything, though he hadn't had the courage to admit it to himself yet. And now, Merlin wanted to stop his ears and run out of the room before Gaius could say anything, but he found himself rooted to the floor.

It broke Gaius' heart to tell them the truth. The time Gwaine had kept him and Elyan alive in Morgana's dungeons alone would be more than enough to put him in Gaius' good graces, but if the physician was honest with himself, he had appreciated Gwaine as soon as he had met him—for being such a friend to Merlin if for no other reason. Gaius sighed deeply, and spoke slowly.

"The infection is severe, and he is very weak, Sire. If he makes it through another night, it will be a miracle. His condition has greatly worsened, and, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he doesn't seem to have any fight left. Even if he does, his fever is too high and has lasted too long. If his fever broke now, it may already have damaged his mind, and I am not sure he would ever make a full recovery."

The only sound was of Gwaine's painfully ragged breathing, and then Gwen burst into quiet tears.

Arthur shivered, releasing a breath, and slumped into the chair beside Gwaine's bed. Gwen went to him. Merlin was surprised, even alarmed, to see tears glistening on Arthur's cheeks, and he felt his own tears now only because they were dropping onto the front of his shirt, but still he couldn't move.

Arthur looked exhausted, dark circles heavy under his eyes, but he set his jaw. "It's my fault. All of it."

Gwen put her hand on his arm. "No, Arthur, you mustn't say that. He chose to go on this hunting trip with you—"

"He was injured defending me and Merlin," Arthur said. His voice, his face, all were carefully void of emotion, except for the wet streaks. "That should be me there."

"Arthur, don't, please."

He lifted his arm, slowly, hand in a fist, and when he opened it something metallic clinked down on the table by Gwaine's head. Merlin recognized it immediately: Gwaine's pendant! Merlin couldn't believe he hadn't noticed that Gwaine wasn't wearing it.

"Sir Gwaine is of noble blood," he said.

Gwen gasped. Merlin and Gaius nearly forgot to look shocked, though this was apparently enough of a revelation to impress Gwen and Arthur so that they hardly noticed.

"But why did he—?" she began. "He was always so—"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Arthur said.

There was a long pause as everyone considered this. Arthur took a deep breath, then, and went on:

"And he and I are descended of the same house."

Merlin dropped the pot he was holding, and it shattered. "WHAT?" At any other time he might have laughed to think that Gwaine and Arthur were related, but now it came as a surprise, and the laugh stuck in his throat.

"He is the grandson of my grandfather's brother. My father and his father were cousins. I have made extensive research into this, and the Court Genealogist has confirmed it." Arthur looked as stunned as they all felt. "And now, if he—" Arthur stopped, choked, and his face broke. Gwen wrapped her arms around him, but Arthur struggled on, determined to finish his speech: "If he dies, he will go not knowing how highly I thought of him. He must have known we were kin, surely, and he simply didn't want to tell me. He expected better of me, hoped I would give him equal treatment for his deeds rather than for the blood which runs in his veins. But I failed. I didn't bother trying to look past his glib façade to see the honorable man beneath. I had to wait for this even to care enough to find out his true history. And now that I know, it shouldn't change anything between us, he wouldn't want that, but it does. It does to me. It changes everything, and I am so deeply ashamed of myself for it."

Arthur wept into Gwen's arms, and she shushed him quietly. Aside from this, the room was silent.

For his part, Merlin couldn't care less if Gwaine and Arthur had been switched at birth. But Gwaine's breathing had now grown softer, weaker, and it hit Merlin like a punch in the gut. He sobbed, still just standing there, jarred by the realization that what he had been so stalwartly denying was horribly true. Suddenly Gaius was at his side, and he was crying into the old man's shoulder like he would never stop.

...

A/N: Happy Easter! :) Okay, this chapter may be the worst Easter present ever… But, while this may take all the fun out of it, I just have to say, because I sorta scared myself there a bit (which is sad): there will be no character deaths of any kind in this fic. Look at me, I can't even stand to let them kill Lancelot, did you really think you had to worry about something like that from someone like me? But, as EffervescentAardvark (whom you have to thank for this update once again) told me, "everything but" is fair game!