The dusky light filtered through the stained glass windows. The torches hanging on the walls cast long, eerie shadows, of Merlin's silluette, on the floor and wall. The warlock strode through these halls with his head held high and his bright blue eyes focused straight ahead of him. His lips were set in a thin line. His jaw clenched. The muscle in his cheek pulsed with pent-up energy.

Hearing footsteps echo around him, Merlin glanced behind him. He didn't see anything. Looking to his right, Merlin didn't see anyone. However, when he looked to his left, there was Gwaine, exiting the room the warlock had just past. The knight's gait was a dithering mess. He zigzagged left and right. Several times he pressed his hand against the stone wall to keep himself from falling on his face.

"Merlin," Gwaine said in an overly cheerful voice that was tinged with a slurring sound. The roguish knight saddled up to Merlin. "So glad to see you, mate. What you doin' out so late?"

"I'm going to go check on Arthur. See if he needs anything," Merlin said. His voice was low and quiet. "It's been a few hours."

Gwaine planted a heavy hand on Merlin's shoulder. "You're a good friend, Merlin. I don't know if the princess deserves you as a friend. He's lucky," Gwaine said. "Anyone would be to have you at their side with your kindness and bravery and fearlessness! You know what, you should be a knight?"
Merlin wrinkled his nose as he smelled the pungent aroma of alcohol waft from the man's mouth. He waved his hand in front of his nose. "Gwaine, how much did you drink," asked the warlock.

"No more than usual," Gwaine said as he tripped over the hem of the rug. He went careening forward. To keep himself upright, the knight grabbed the flower vase on the table. "Whoa! Well, maybe a little more than usual."

"You don't say. Why don't you got to Gaius's? You'll need his help in the morning," Merlin said as he pushed Gwaine in the direction of the physician's quarters. "I'll be around later. I have something important to talk to Arthur about."

Gwaine waved. As he did, he staggered to one side. "Good night, Sir Merlin," he said as he rounded a corner.

Merlin chuckled a little. He shook his head as a slight smile crossed his face. It fell as he reached Uther's quarters. The warlock stopped at the door. He just stood there, staring at Arthur's profile. The Prince stood at the foot of the bed. One of his hands rested lightly on one of the poles holding up the canopy. While Arthur's back was to Merlin, the warlock could still see his profile.

Merlin thought the young man looked years older. There were dark bags under his eyes. No light shined in Arthur's blue eyes. They were dull and tired. Deep lines of worry and fear were etched around his frowning mouth. His hair was unkempt and his clothes wrinkled. Merlin could not ever remember seeing Arthur in such a state.

He inhaled deeply and then exhaled just as intensely before entering the chambers. "Sire," Merlin said softly. "How is he?"

Arthur did not turn towards Merlin. "No better. He's fading," the Prince said. His voice was thick and it was apparent that he was trying to hold back the tears. "Gaius does not think he'll live too much longer – two days, maybe three at the most. I'm not ready to lose him, Merlin. I'm scared."

Merlin's eyes widen. Merlin was shocked at the revelation, even though Merlin knew his friend was terrified. He'd never heard Arthur admit to fear. He didn't really admit being afraid when they were trapped in the dungeons of the ruins with dorocha flying all over the place. "I know," he whispered. The warlock didn't prattle on. It didn't seem appropriate or needed.

Slowly, the Prince turned to face Merlin. "If your mother was in dire need and had a mortal wound, would you use magic to save her," Arthur asked.

"What?" Merlin asked as he staggered back. He couldn't believe his ears. First, Arthur admitted to trepidation. Now, he was considering using magic to save his father. Was Merlin dreaming? The warlock resisted the urge to pinch himself.

"You heard me," the blond-haired man said as he strode forward. "Would you use magic to save your mother?"

"I wouldn't hesitate."

"Should I? I can't lose him, Merlin. I'm not ready. I'm not ready to say good-bye and I am not ready to be King of this land. There is much I need to learn from my father before he passes," Arthur whispered as he hung his head.

"If there is a chance to save your father, take it. You'll regret it later if you don't."

"But, where can I find someone to help us? There's no one left in Camelot who wields magic!"

"Actually…"

"Yes?"

"There is someone who can help your father."

"Great, let's go find him!"

"Arthur…"

"Merlin, why are you stalling? Let's go," Arthur asked as he headed to the door.

"Can you wait, for just a minute? I need to tell you something."

"You can tell me on the way to finding this warlock."

"Arthur…"

"Merlin, saddle the horses. We're leaving in an hour. That's an order," Arthur's voice was firm. There was a dangerous and slightly manic glint in his eyes that made Merlin relent. "Do you understand?"

Merlin nodded. "I do. I will go saddle the horses," he whispered.

"Good. I will meet you at the stalls in an hour. The horses had better be ready," Arthur said as he turned away from Merlin.

Very well," he said slowly. The warlock backed out of the room, but stopped when Arthur said his name. "Yes?"

"I better not regret going after this warlock. He better not mess up. If he does..."

"I know," Merlin interrupted. He didn't want to hear the rest of Arthur's thoughts. With haste, he headed out of the room and down the hall.