With training in full swing, Arthur was stood with Leon watching them follow procedure and practising the logged moves they had done every day since becoming knights. Since the dragon attack both fighters had had to train a new handful of knights to replace those who had been sadly lost, "They are getting sloppy," the Prince commented. They had been a relatively good batch, easily picking up drills, but of late they had deteriorated again.

Leon was amused, "They just want to be treated by the new physician's assistant."

Arthur frown and indicated for the man to spar with him in an attempt to show the new recruits what they should be like, "Who's that then?" he asked, not aware that Gaius had any new help.

"You don't know?" Leon asked. He knew that Arthur had communication with them due to the search for Morgana and he'd assumed the Prince would know.

"No, who is he?"

"You know her," Arthur blocked a swipe to his head that Leon had placed as part of a standard practise, "Morgana's old handmaiden, Gwen."

Arthur struck Leon's sword and remained stationary, "Guinevere?"

"You really didn't know?" With the searches for Morgana and his own manservant friendship with the girl, Leon had assumed that he would have at least heard about her new position.

"No," he looked up to the window of Merlin's room and frowned. Why wouldn't she tell him? Why did she feel the need to keep it a secret from him? It was a move in the right direction- "Ah!" Arthur's gaze shot down to his bare arm where his sleeve had risen and his gloves didn't cover. It was now starting to bleed quite violently.

"Sorry, sire," Leon said automatically. He felt smug, it wasn't often that you got one up on the Crowned Prince of Camelot, "Looks like it's your turn to go, my lord."

"Yeah, looks like."

X

Gwen appeared from Merlin's quarters having been called by Gaius to assist him with the latest patient. Her jaw dropped as she clapped eyes on Arthur, "My lord, what happened?"

"Momentary lapse of concentration," he cleared his throat and looked sheepishly at the floor. She approached to study the cut.

"Your knights appear to be having a lot of those recently," she admitted with a coy smile on her face. It was certainly helping her to learn how to deal with the plethora of complaint the knights appeared with.

"I wonder why," Gwen glared at him as Gaius approached to hear her assessment.

"It's just a scratch. Nothing life threatening, my lord," she retorted before turning to Gaius, "Clean and wrap?"

"Correct. I shall go and tend to Sir Kay. He is in slightly worse shape," the physician disappeared into Merlin's room where Arthur assumed the other knight had been taken.

"He was hit quiet violently around the head. He has a mild concussion," Gwen explained as she gathered a bowl of fresh water and a clean cloth.

"He shall be disappointed," he watched her work on his forearm. Most of the blood had dried now but the cut itself was still fresh. He could certainly understand why his knights were getting injured. She was a gentle touch and had a professional demeanour even though they doubtlessly would be flirting with her during their visits. The thought of their leering annoyed him but they were harmless. Mostly. As knights they were taught to respect people, especially those who would help them in return, so she would, supposedly, be safe from advances from them.

And he couldn't blame them from looking, as long as that was all that they did.

Gwen could feel him looking at her. It was off putting enough that he was her patient was- "Arthur-"

He traced his finger over the material of her dress, up her arm and back down to the pushed up hem of her sleeve, "He shall also be incredibly jealous."

"You are the Prince of Camelot, my lord," she wrapped the scrap of bandage around his wrist tightly, "every man is jealous of you."

"Even more so now," his hand running up her bicep was more than distracting. She shrugged him off but he persisted.

"You're done," she tucked the end of the bandage into the tight wrapping; "I must go and assist Gaius with Sir Kay. I have a lot to learn," she moved away from him but he reached out and pulled her back towards him.

"No special treatment for the Prince of Camelot?" he smirked. She bashfully looked to the floor. Although Gaius knew a little of the hindered relationship between the pair, she didn't want him seeing more than he had already. Their relationship was a private affair that two people knew about. Three if you counted those who weren't there to see things.

"Not from a servant," she replied, as per her usual 'Not now, Arthur' reply.

"And from the physician's assistant?"

"It wouldn't be proper to take advantage of a patient," she pulled her wrist from his grasp with a small smile on her lips. Without so much as a look back over her shoulder she slipped back into Merlin's room and back to where Gaius was tending to a confused and dizzy knight.

Arthur watched her retreating figure and smiled. Her new position definitely explained a lot.

With a flash of lavender across the back of the courtyard behind the flurry of activity, Arthur could help but watch her as he walked down the main steps to await the approaching parties.

His attention elsewhere than the steps he was taking, he landed his foot clipping the back of his boot on the top of the previous stone and lurched forwards. He instinctively put his hands out to catch his fall – thankfully onto the cobble stones of the pavement and only down the final two steps. He winced, but didn't cry out with his father tutting beside him.

"I understand being clumsy, Arthur, but you've been wearing this cloak for a fair few years now, I'd have thought you'd know how to walk in it by now," he chastised his son who was now stood upright with blooded hands from scrapping across the floor.

"Momentary distraction," a momentary distraction that had been Gwen heading up the steps to Gaius' quarters with a bucket of fresh after direct from the well in the courtyard.

"I can't have you meeting Kings with bloody hands, have Gaius clean you up and promptly return."

"Yes, father," Arthur winced as he moved his severely grazed hand. He'd suffered a similar injury about ten years ago, but not once since. Tripping over his own feet - no matter how gracefully done - was downright embarrassing. Explaining his injury to Gaius would be interesting; perhaps withholding information would be the best idea.

What he hadn't counted on, though perhaps hoped for just a little, was Guinevere being on her own. Morning rounds seemed to be coinciding with his doubt of clumsiness which made the situation a ton more embarrassing.

"Guinevere, have you got a clean cloth and some water?" he asked confidently as he ducked his head to examine his hands.

"Of course, my lord," she frowned slightly but gathered what he required without a question. Fresh water from the bucket she had collected and a new cloth from the clean linen pile, "Here you go, my lord," she offered it to him before she saw the reason for his requirement.

"It's best you don't ask."

"Just blame Merlin?"

"Exactly," he accepted the cloth from her and soaked it. He started to dab at the palm of his hand.

"Here," she took the cloth from him, "you've managed to get some grit in it from where you fell over."

"I didn't fall over."

"Merlin pushed you then," he opened his mouth to argue back but the retort fell short when he clocked the amused smile on her face, "You'll have to be more careful, sire."

She gently dabbed the grated skin and cupped his hand with her own to steady it. He winced as a piece of small stone dug into his hand, "Sorry."

"It's okay."

"Here. The other hand," she guided his other hand into the light. It wasn't as badly scuffed as the other hand but there was still a little blood. She cleaned it quickly, "You should get back. The kings will be arriving soon."

"And yet I think I'm perfectly happy right here," he looked from his hand to he concentrated face, "But – as always – you're right."

"If these talks are successful, it could bring an end to a lot of problems."

"Like the peace treaty?"

"Hopefully it won't be quite as eventful this time."

Arthur cleared his throat and looked to the floor, "Quite. But, perhaps, certain parts may be repeated."

"Only competing knights get the honour."

"Multiple?" he teased and raised one eyebrow with the smirk on his face.

"Singular. You should go; your father will be waiting."

"Indeed," his father was always getting in the way of his plans and happiness, "Until the next time, Guinevere."

"My lord," she curtsied, she kept eye contact with him as he backed up towards the door.

"My lady," he smirked as he turned to smoothly walk down the steps only forgetting that he'd set the door a jar on his way in and turned straight into it. Gwen laughed.

"You might want to look where you're going. Otherwise you'll be back in here faster than you reel of orders off to Merlin."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is for Merlin."

Merlin knew Arthur was a prat, what he hadn't counted on was how much more unbearable he became when he was ill. He'd had a mild case of the flu for the last few days. He'd been ordered on bed rest and only his manservant, the court physician and his assistant we're allowed access to him in case anybody contracted the illness.

It was only flu, but the way the Prince was going on about it you'd have thought he was dying. He'd been much worse off in the past.

"You know what I think?" the servant asked as the Prince slumped down into his dining chair with an almighty hack racking his body.

"I don't care what you think, Merlin," he grumbled with a blocked nose and a sore throat making him sound like he had spent the day gargling with gravel.

"I think you stayed out in that storm so you could have another excuse to go and see Gwen," Merlin replied knowingly. The corner of his lip tugged as he gave Arthur one of those looks that told him that he was well and truly busted.

Arthur was leaning against his hand and coughed a few times in quick succession, each racking his entire body, "What are you talking about, Merlin?"

"Every other person on the trip including myself sheltered in the cave," Merlin stated, tempted to list the group of knights for added effect but thinking better of it, "but you chose to stay outside."

"I was keeping watch."

"A likely story."

"Why would I willingly get the flu?"

"Because you assumed that Gaius would have Gwen deal with you and that you wouldn't have gotten this sick. Now, well, I heard rumours that you could die any day now," rumours that had only stemmed from Arthur's over reactive mind.

"It's only a mild case; don't believe everything you hear," Merlin snorted, his back to Arthur. Gallant hero; biggest prat.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Merlin answered it, greeted by a small blonde girl not who he had been expecting and far from who Arthur had hoped it would be, "My lord, Gaius sent me with your evening dose,"

"Where's Guinevere?" Arthur asked. He was no longer bothered if the girl questioned him. She was the physician's assistant; it would make sense for him to ask after her at least some of the time.

"She is tending to Sir Leon who received quite a blow in practise."

"Indeed," he accepted the vial and uncorked it, "Thank you."

"Gaius also sent me with instructions, my lord."

"I think I'm capable of taking a potion," he coughed.

"Gwen insisted that you make sure you read them my lord," she said nervously, not used to speaking to the Prince at all let along giving him direct orders.

"Thank you..."

"Grace, my lord."

"Thank you, Grace," he coughed again. The girl nodded, curtsied and left; she didn't want to catch this illness from him. She couldn't afford the treatment like he Prince could. Merlin looked deeply amused; as he had for a lot of the day. Arthur read the note as he downed the mixture:

I don't want your illness. Better idea next time?

With Arthur sat in front of her and Gaius elsewhere after quickly excusing himself on the Prince's entrance, Gwen shook her head, "Is that the best excuse you could come up with?"

"My crown rubs, it gives me a headache."

"Can't you get it altered?" she lifted the crown from his head, his hair sticking up in odd directions.

"One would think you didn't want to see me, Guinevere," he flattened his hair back down to his head with a smug smile on his face.

"I have patients with real problems," she thrust a bottle to him that contained the usual headache potion.

"I can see that you are incredibly busy."

"Before you got here I was about to go on my rounds," he smiled proudly at her. She was certainly moving up. Gaius trusted her with her own patients now. Whenever Arthur came up with a new ailment he would promptly leave but the prince was certain he had ulterior motives.

"Don't let me stop you."

"I won't," she hadn't before, she wasn't about to start now. She picked up her medicines and slung her container over her shoulder, "Good night, Arthur."

"Good night, Guinevere."

The crowds were gathered, every small child, adolescent and adult gathered in the stands to watch the final joust between the Crowned Prince and his best knight, Sir Leon. Both had ploughed through the competition easily.

But nobody ever imagined the result.

On the second run - after the Prince had broken his lance against the knight's chest on the previous one – Sir Leon landed the tip of his lance smack bang on Arthur's side with enough force to send him flat against his horses back. The prince lost his stirrup and as his horse galloped on, he couldn't keep a hold of the reins a second longer as he plummeted towards the ground.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd; nobody beat the Prince. Nobody.

Gwen winced and hid behind her hands for a moment before she felt Gaius tug on her sleeve and lead her towards the tourney ground.

"Sire?" Gaius enquired. He noted Arthur lying on the floor. He'd have worried by the Prince raised his right hand to signal he was okay. Gwen let out a sigh of relief and assisted Gaius to sit Arthur up. He cried out in pain as Gwen hooked his left arm, "We need to get his armour off. Sire, do you think you can walk?"

With his right hand he unclipped the front of his helmet so he could be easily heard, "If you help me to stand," Gwen moved to help him up, "Not on my left side. I think I've broken something."

"Let's get him into the tent, Guinevere, we can treat him there."

They assisted him into the red and yellow canvas tent, seating him on the bench in the middle. Gwen helped him to take his helmet from his head. She unbuckled his breast plate and laid it on the bench next to him.

Gaius expertly started to analyse the situation, and ran his hand over the Prince's arm and shoulder, applying pressure. The prince couldn't contain his cry when the pain shot through his arm and upper back, "I think you may have dislocated your shoulder when you landed, sire."

X

"A couple of broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder; I think this may class as your best excuse so far," Gwen laughed and chewed on the side of her lip. She helped him back into his shirt gently pulling it over his left shoulder.

"He beat me fair and square," Arthur chided. He pushed his right arm into his shi and pulled it over his head with a slight wince as he had to move his left side.

"If he'd beaten you without you deeming it so you would be complaining about it," Gwen hooked the make-shift sling under his arm and moved around him so she could fasten it behind his neck.

"I would not."

"Yes you would," she tied the triangular material into place behind his neck, "Perhaps you were trying to show a certain physician's assistant that you don't always have to win," she said as she sat down beside him on the bench, "because you will always be her champion."

"Perhaps," he replied moving his hand from his opposite bicep to lie over her hand on the wood. She looked down between them and tuned her hand under his and interlocked he fingers with his, "Does the runner-up deserve a kiss from his lady? I competed and you promised."

Gwen leant towards him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Do I not deserve more than that?"

"Anything more is reserved for winners."

"But I am a winner."

"How so?"

"I made you kiss a patient. You should be imprisoned for inappropriate behaviour."

"Of course, my lord," she smiled as he stoked his thumb over the back of her hand.

"There is one way you can avoid your sentence," he said as he closed the gap between the two of them.

"I think you hit your head harder than we thought," she mumbled before he kissed her harder than she had done so before.

"I must remember to thank Leon."

"For knocking you off of your horse and winning the joust?"

"No; for informing me that the physician had a new assistant."