A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC
I felt like I should also post the first chapter, because the prologue is only about 15 words long...
Gaius had a strong stomach when it came to most things. He was, after all, court physician, and saw many an illness and injury during his long life. Men brought to him in the aftermath of battles, bearing the severest of wounds, half of their insides hanging out, blood covering every inch of flesh and groaning in agony. Women brought to him with childbed sickness, sweating with fever and convulsing so much their limbs acted as if possessed by a demon. Children brought to him – an outbreak of plague hitting the lower towns – pus filled boils dotted all over their tiny, innocent faces, and vomit the colour of mud splattered down their even tinier peasant clothes. When patients were brought to him, Gaius didn't as much as flinch, learning from an early age apprenticed to Camelot's previous healer that an adverse reaction to a patient would serve good to no one.
'You will be careful, my boy, won't you?' A wrinkled brow creased in worry.
'Of course.' A cocky smile grinned in return.
Those were the last words he spoke to his son in every manner but blood. Taking the boy in when he was but a young, foolish magician with little control over the enormous power he wielded Gaius considered one of the best and worst decisions he ever made. He always worried for the warlock, god knows how he worried, but the boy proved himself capable on numerous occasions. He was always okay. He always came back to him, sometimes barely in one piece, but he always came back. The worry he felt for him was nothing though, compared to the stone that firmly lodged in the pit of his stomach that day. As dangerous as it was for a magic wielder to live in Camelot, Gaius never imagined it would end like this. Never.
Gaius had a strong stomach when it came to most things, but he welcomed the darkness that loomed as the world swam around him; the flames licking at his ward's feet.