A/N: Hey everyone! I am so sorry this update took so long - I got very, very involved with watching the Olympics and it pretty much stole all of my time away. Congrats to everyone and their countries on their achievements!
Same rating applies for this chapter. Enjoy, and don't forget to let me know what you thought of it!
Arthur couldn't remember when he was brought back to his bedroom, but the resounding click of the lock on the outside of his door reverberated in his mind as he lay on his stomach on his bed. He stared, unseeing, at a mark on the wall, the throbbing of his entire body swelling any thoughts from his mind.
Hours after he had been returned to his chambers, Gaius came through the door. The physician was accompanied by an entire bag full of god knew what sort of elixirs and potions and tools. Arthur stared blearily up at him out of the corner of his eye, but made no response to the arrival.
Gaius gazed sadly down at the young man, wincing as the lock was fastened once more on the door behind him. The events that were unfolding behind palace walls were some of the worst the physician had met in his life. He wondered, unabashedly, whether or not the enchantment on Uther could be broken if Katrina was assassinated. Although he obviously didn't believe that all creatures of magic were evil, Katrina undoubtedly was. Things needed to get back to normal, and they needed to fast.
"Alright, Arthur," Gaius said softly as he stood over the prince in his bed, "Let me tend to those wounds."
Arthur turned his head to face the opposite direction. "Go away Gaius," he mumbled. "I'm fine."
The sullen words brought a small smile to Gaius' lips as he was suddenly flooded with memories of the prince as a child. Albeit hard to believe, a youngster Prince Arthur had been just as stubborn, if not more so. The physician had received plenty of trouble from the royal child due to pranks, general grumpiness, and refusal to take medicine.
"Go away!" The young voice was trying to be authoritative, but the pout to his words was anything but. Arthur crossed his arms and flopped his face down into his pillow.
Gaius tried not to laugh at the child Arthur. When he remembered how Uther had yelled at his son, however, he found it a bit easier. "Now, now, Arthur… your father sent me, and you know that I must do as he asks."
"I'm fine!"
The response had been muffled to the point that Gaius could barely make it out. The physician sat on the edge of the bed and gave the prince a reassuring pat. "Your father loves you, Arthur, and he just wants to make sure you're okay."
"He wants to punish me!" Arthur sat up, tears swimming in his bright blue eyes. "He does not love me!"
The physician found himself feeling bad for the boy. Uther had not been kind in his words as he yelled at Arthur in the throne room. The seven-year-old had taken one of the knight's swords from the armoury, and had dashed off into the forest to fight "the bad people." During the adventure, he had tripped in a fit of clumsiness worthy of Merlin, and sliced open a five-inch gash on his leg.
"Of course he loves you," Gaius told him as he rolled up the leg of the boy's pants and began to treat the wound.
"I just… I just wanted to help. I wanted to make him proud of me!"
The words had made Gaius' stomach clench, much in the same way that it was now.
It was amazing how fast time had slipped by over life in the kingdom, its slippery shadow elusive. For once, however, Gaius hoped that the next few days would go rather quickly, and that Camelot would be restored to its normal order.
Gaius set his things down on the floor and walked over to the fireplace. The afternoon was falling fast, and a chill was beginning to settle into the room. Quietly he built a fire for the prince, allowing the warming orange glow to soak into his weary bones.
Finally he settled his gaze back onto the prince, who was looking back at him once more. Gaius gave a kindly smile. "Come on, sire, I won't be long, and you can't allow those lacerations to get infected. Then I'll have to treat them with even more care, and it won't be nearly as pleasant."
He took Arthur's silence as permission to continue.
Pulling the prince's chair away from the table and to the bedside, Gaius sat down with a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut away Arthur's shirt form his back. Merely pulling off the shirt would have been both painful and possibly harmful to the jagged injuries. The prince gave no response to his actions, save for a gasp of breath here and there.
There were many lash marks on the young man's back – Gaius guessed there to be as many as twelve. He frowned and stood, heading towards the bucket of water that always remained filled by servants in case the prince wanted a bath. He poured the water into a pot and placed it in the fire to warm. After a few minutes it was as warm as he needed, and he returned to the bedside with the pot, a brush, and some soap.
Tenderly he washed Arthur's wounds, trying politely not to notice the trembling that had started to take over the prince's body. When he was satisfied that the lacerations were clean and that there was no lingering material left in the wounds, Gaius spoke.
"Let's get you up and take off your shirt, now, Arthur."
Once more the prince didn't respond, and Gaius' frown deepened. "Come on." He said in a soft, gentle voice, and carefully began to maneuver the prince into an upright position. Arthur didn't resist.
When he had pulled Arthur's shirt over the prince's head, Gaius bit back a gasp. There, on the prince's chest and stomach, was a colourful and dark assortment of bruising. "Arthur," he began, trying to hold back the parental reproaching that he felt overcoming his tongue, "What happened?"
The young man's blue eyes met Gaius' only briefly before looking away again. His pale face flickered in the firelight, the sun now completely stolen from the skies. His blonde hair was unkempt, his black eye and split lip out of place, and he looked all the world like the little boy Gaius remembered from a decade or so ago.
Knowing that any other sort of response was not forthcoming, Gaius gave a small sigh and studied the bumps and bruises. They looked to be the result of some sort of impact, of which the physician knew better than to ask of. He ran his hand over the prince's chest, prodding gently where he needed to as Arthur winced in discomfort.
"I don't think there's anything broken, and it's unlikely that any of your ribs are cracked." Gaius informed the young man. He dug through his bag. "I'll leave you with this painkiller if it gets to be too much."
Arthur looked over at him, his face a perfect mask of blankness. He nodded his appreciation.
"Now lay back down, I have to finish with your back."
The prince did as he was told, and Gaius went about applying a poultice to the lashings to help prevent infection. He finished quickly and efficiently, feeling as if he had been treading on Arthur's open wounds for too long, both figuratively and literally.
"I'll be back to wash and change that in the morning," Gaius informed the prince as he gathered his things back into his bag. "You take it easy, sire. Lots of rest and try to get some fluids." He gave Arthur a reassuring pat on the arm before leaving the young man's chambers.
"You called for me sire?" Gaius entered the throne room with a respectful bow. Almost immediately after finishing up with Arthur, Sir Leon had come to retrieve him at the king's request. He felt his blood boil when he saw that the troll Katrina was at Uther's side, something that did not result in any good as of late.
The smell in the court should have been the first clue to her presence.
"Yes I did," Uther responded, sipping on a chalice of wine. It was getting to be later in the evening, and Gaius wondered what sort of business the king was addressing at this time of day.
Katrina grinned at Gaius, a malicious and knowing grin that was probably always on the face of a troll, but no doubt forebode something deeper with the queen.
"I need you to do me a favour," The king said. "What do you have in those cupboards of yours that would keep a man… accommodating?"
Gaius frowned. "A drug sir?"
Uther nodded. "Yes. I need something that would… prevent a man from struggling, but not necessarily knock him out. Do you have such a thing?"
The physician's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. "Sire, what is this for?"
Uther's face took on an apologetic smile, and it was almost hard to tell that the man was enchanted. Except, of course, for the disgusting wart-infested, rot of a creature at his side. "I know, my friend, that you are fond of my son, and that this is going to be hard to hear."
The fact that Uther was trying to be kind to him sent off a huge warning bell inside of Gaius, and he looked back and forth from Katrina's evil grin to the king's gentle smile in a hidden panic. "Sire?"
"Last night, Katrina sent for a slave trader that was resting in the town of Ichaboroughs." Icaboroughs was just outside of Camelot territory.
Gaius gasped. Slavery was illegal in Camelot; Uther had seen it that way himself. "A slave trader? Your majesty, what—"
Uther held his hand up to quiet the physician. "I know, I know, that it's a bit unorthodox, but we have decided," the king gave his wife's hand a squeeze for emphasis, "that desperate times call for desperate measures. My son has gotten out of hand, and he must be taught some obedience."
"Sire, you can't be serious…" Gaius was careful to watch his tone, no matter how shocked and scared he was. "There has to be a better way—"
"Do not question your king!" The troll's gurgling, comical voice echoed throughout the throne room.
Gaius ignored her. "Punish him any way you want here in Camelot, your majesty,"—the words coming out of his mouth sent shards of regret through his stomach, but desperate times call for desperate measures—"but… this?" He couldn't even speak it.
"It'll teach him some manners, and how to obey, and when he returns he will be all the better for it."
"If he returns, sire!" Gaius took a few steps forward. "I don't think you realize what you're doing, sire…"
"That's enough, Gaius," Uther's tone took on that of warning. "You will prepare Arthur a draft for the morning, so that he will not offer any resistance. The trader will be here before noon."
The physician swallowed, hesitated, but finally bowed low in compliance, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would break Katrina's hold on the king and to make the man see reason. As he turned to leave, he exchanged very worried looks with Sir Leon, who had been at his side for the entirety of the conversation. It was to be a dark day in Camelot indeed.