Hey! Thanks for the great response, especially to my reviewers - I really appreciate your words. This chapter is way longer compared to the last one, I hope that doesn't put you off, but I know the first chapter was too short anyway. Hope you enjoy x

By the time the prince had returned to Morgana's chambers the guards were working well together within the system the knights had devised. Arthur allowed a small smile to spread across his lips as he watched the boys and men that he had trained and grown up alongside thrive, even in such a demanding emergency situation.

Sir Leon spotted Arthur and started him out of his musings as he approached the prince. "Sire, are you all right? You weren't injured in the fire, were you?"

"No, just inhaled a bit of smoke, but I'll be fine," he insisted. The rough edge to his voice was already beginning to fade, but his throat was unbearably dry.

Thankfully the knight dismissed the matter and updated him on the fire and the castle's condition. "I believe we were lucky, sire. The fire was caught before it spread to any other rooms within the stronghold, but repairs to the Lady Morgana's room will be extensive. He chambers are so badly damaged that we have no indication of how the fire started."

Arthur nodded slowly, his mind automatically processing the information. "Any casualties?"

Leon shook his head. "Nothing major, except for that of your manservant. The evacuation was effective and successful. There are a few minor burns among the guard, but nothing we can't handle."

Arthur turned to face Sir Leon and gripped his shoulder briefly. "Good work. I trust I can leave you to take care of things here? I will inform the king." And see to Merlin.

"Of course, sire."

Arthur began to turn away, but stopped himself sharply as he realised he had one more question. "Has the Lady Morgana been found?" The prince tried to suppress the sound of worry he knew would surface in his voice.

Leon smiled slightly at him. "Yes, she was escorted from the castle by one of the guard during the evacuation."

"Thank you."

Arthur strode briskly to his chambers, his worry for Merlin energising each step. Reaching the door, he turned the handle and took a step forwards, just before suddenly flinching back in shock.

"Merlin!" he shouted, alarmed, as his manservant – his standing manservant – looked him straight in the eye, before his legs shook and buckled, sending him swiftly to the floor. Arthur's arms shot out from him of their own accord, looping round Merlin's waist and preventing his collapse, instead lowering him gently to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Arthur scolded lightly, his voice trembling a little as he tried to conceal the fact that he had nearly had a heart attack.

Merlin didn't respond in kind as his usual, upbeat self. Instead a wry, pained smile quirked across his lips, before his face quickly darkened. He swallowed to moisten his scratchy throat. "Arthur, listen to me, you need to find Uther. I think he's in danger."

Arthur paused, before he shook his head in disbelief. "Merlin, there's been a fire, the castle has been evacuated – "

"Arthur someone's going to kill him!" Merlin blurted out in a hoarse voice. "You need to get to him now!"

The prince looked his manservant in the eye. Now that Merlin had mentioned it, a solid, queasy feeling was settling deep in the pit of his stomach and his heart had begun to pound in apprehension, his breath beginning to leave him in panicky bursts as fear overtook him. He could see that his manservant was deadly serious and he resisted the urge to close his eyes in despair, as now he knew for certain – his father's life was in danger.

"I believe you," Arthur admitted quietly. "But I can't leave you here like this. Let's go."

Tightening his hold on Merlin, the prince helped him to stand and together they staggered hurriedly to the king's chambers. On reaching the doors, they collided simultaneously with the gothic, ornate wood which gave way and engulfed them into the room's walls.

The first thing that slammed into the two of them was silence. Pure, dense, eerie silence that created a strong, ominous foreboding. It was so quiet they could hear a faint buzzing sound ringing in their ears, which also felt stuffed with cotton. Not even the clattering cacophony of the rescue operation could even be heard once the doors had sealed themselves shut.

Then Arthur let out a shuddering, grieved breath that split the air a further chilled the usually welcoming chambers.

And then Merlin saw.

Uther was sprawled out unconscious on the grand, royal bed, a dagger plunged deep into his back. Molten blood saturated the supple white bed linen, small rivulets of the life-giving liquid coursing down his side and echoing coldly as the drips splattered against the floor.

Merlin broke free from Arthur's slack hold and shot towards the bed, frowning in concentration as he felt for a pulse in Uther's pallid neck. A faint throb bulged weakly against his fingers. "He's alive," he whispered. He whipped his head up to look at Arthur, his eyes sparkling with hope. "Arthur!" he cried. "He's alive!"

But the prince didn't respond. Arthur stood, frozen in shock, his body trembling weakly. Tears gathered in his eyes and his breath grew shallow and panicky, all colour draining from his face as his fingers twitched erratically by his sides. Merlin watched, heart cracking in two, as a lone tear carved its path down Arthur's cheek.

"Arthur!" Merlin sought. The prince appeared as unresponsive and empty as solid rock. The manservant marched over to Arthur, looking him square in the eye. "Arthur, look at me. Look at me." Merlin squeezed the prince's shoulder with his good hand as Arthur regarded him though hazy eyes. "He's alive, Arthur. You hear me? Alive. I'm going to stay here and look after him. You're going to go and get Gaius and we can save him. I promise."

Merlin watched desperately as Arthur's eyes glinted and his expression changed, infinite emotions fleeting across his face, so many that the manservant was unable to pick out one to try and decipher. But then Arthur turned sharply on his heel and bolted from Uther's chambers, streaking down the corridor in what Merlin hoped was the direction of Gaius.

The manservant sighed heavily and offered a silent prayer for Arthur, before returning to the severely wounded king and beginning to stem the bleeding with the untouched bedding.

"Place him face down on the bed over there," Gaius ordered directly, darting to the shelves that lined the walls of his chambers, his well-experienced hands easily selecting the individual medicine vials and equipment that he would need. Turning back to the guards that still remained, he instantly instructed him to fetch some fresh water.

Glancing at Merlin and Arthur, the physician visibly winced at the sight of his surrogate son. The dried blood caked in clumps down the side of his head was enough, but the sight of the boy's arm just made Gaius feel physically sick. He turned regrettable eyes towards the warlock. "I know you're injured, Merlin, but I'll need your help with this."

Gaius easily stripped Uther of his clothes, the material easily cut away, almost repelling the sharp knife. The physician now had free access to the wound, and could also see that the dagger had been forced right in up to its hilt.

"Arthur," Gaius asserted, "do you have a dagger on you?"

At the prince's nod, Gaius instructed that he place the blade into the fire and leave it to heat.

"Will he be all right?" Merlin asked for Arthur – he knew the prince was dying to know but was too scared to ask.

Gaius didn't look up, his attention focused solely on saving the king's life. He competent hands examined Uther's back with practised care and precision, determining the damage caused and what he could do to give the man his best chance at survival. "I'm not sure. From what I can tell, the knife has missed the spine and doesn't seem to have caused any sufficient damage to any internal organs – truly a miracle. But the wound is very deep and he has lost too much blood."

Merlin watched as Arthur's face brightened slightly and then crumpled, feeling tangible, stormy waves of confused emotions rolling from the prince. The manservant closed his eyes briefly and sent out a silent plea to Arthur to hang on.

"Arthur, how hot is that knife?" Gaius called a few minutes later, handing Merlin fresh blankets to absorb the blood. Arthur lifted up the blade for the physician's inspection, and received a nod of approval as the blade's length was blazing white from the heat. "Good, leave it in the fire for now. Merlin, spread this salve around the wound, it will numb the area and help ease the pain," Gaius instructed, barely missing a beat as he delivered multiple tasks and prepared bandages for the king.

"What are you going to do?" Arthur asked timidly, speaking for the first time.

Gaius sighed deeply and painfully, before he paused in his work and crossed the room over to the prince, regarding Arthur with a knowing look. "Now that I'm confident the blade has pierced no internal organs I am going to remove it and immediately cauterise the wound to prevent any further blood loss." The physician placed a hand on Arthur's arm. "This will be extremely painful for Uther and he will need your support."

Merlin took up Gaius's work without a word, his expressiong frowning in concentration and concern for the prince. Arthur looked at the physician uncertainly, battling the misery that threatened to overpower him with his strong will to help his father. Eventually providing Gaius with a nod of conformation, the prince moved and sat down next to Uther's side, holding his father's hand in his two, gripping it tightly.

"Merlin, have Arthur's dagger ready." Gaius returned to the king's bedside and, checking and assuring himself that he had everything ready, calmly placed his hands over the hilt of the knife that had, in one act, severely threatened to tear lives apart.

He looked at Merlin. "On the count of three. One, two, three…" Gaius slowly and carefully pulled out the knife. Crimson blood suddenly spurted out in retaliation and re-established its flow in waves across the king's back, rippling down his sides – but the physician was unaffected.

"Merlin, the knife."

As soon as the hilt made contact with his palm, Gaius pressed the fiery hot knife against the walls of the wound, careful not to cause any more damage. An angry hiss of protest filled the air as the sickening stench of burnt flesh swelled around them. Arthur started in his seat as his hand was suddenly crushed by the force of Uther's, a guttural moan of agony escaping the proud king, whose face was now scrunched up from the pain.

"Father?" Arthur called nervously. "Father, can you hear me?" The prince watched his father's expression intently, gripping the older man's hand in a desperate attempt to say what he couldn't manage. To say that he was here, he wasn't going anywhere, and the stubborn king just needed to hang on. To say to his father that he just simply couldn't die. To say that he needed him.

He touched a cool hand to the king's tensed, sweating forehead, hoping to break through to the man and get a response, but instead Uther's expression quickly relaxed and went slack, as he fell unconscious once more. The prince tore his hand away in frustration, covering his face with it as he took a deep, shuddering breath.

A hand appeared and clasped Arthur's arm, squeezing it gently in reassurance. Looking up, the prince saw worry and empathy, clear as day, shining brightly in Merlin's eyes. Now it was staring him in the face, he realised that he'd almost forgotten altogether that his manservant had already gone through the confounding blow of grief and turmoil that he was now feeling at full force. Arthur lowered his eyes in guilt, having never comprehended how Merlin had ever really felt. The way he'd acted around him must have been so callous and insensitive.

Disgust rising within him, he promised right there and then that he would consider his words before he blurted them out carelessly in the future. Once again meeting Merlin's gaze, he smiled ever so slightly, his eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Gaius interrupted them and, realising the manservant was swiftly tiring and his pain intensifying, dismissed Merlin and asked Arthur to take over.

Some would say that the crown prince should have become a healer, with the care that he had then demonstrated. He helped Gaius disinfect the wound, before blocking out his emotions and assisting to stitch the horrific wound closed, holding the sides of his father's flesh together. Once completed, the prince slowly raised his father into a sitting position and leaned the older man against him, aiding the physician in wrapping the king's torso in strips of soft, fresh linen. Then together they lay Uther on his side, stacking pillows behind the man to prevent him from rolling over and disturbing the wound - that was the last thing any of them needed.

Arthur breathed an tense sigh, not sure whether he liked the fact that there was nothing more he could do for his father. The king was now as clean as possible and his wound had been seen to – all they had to do was wait. But Arthur didn't think he'd ever forget the sight of so much blood. So much life – just desecrated.

But their work wasn't done yet.

Gaius looked across the room at his surrogate son. Merlin had sweat pouring from his forehead, skin white and ashen. His eyes, sealed shut in exhaustion, revealed that he was on the brink of sleep, but it seemed impossible with such shallow and irregular breathing. His arm looked severely unnatural, the fact that it really shouldn't have existed forcing it to appear as a severe alien delusion, the contrast of his unharmed right arm only reinforcing the hallucination.

Gaius heaved himself up and made his way over to Merlin, resting a soothing hand on his right shoulder. Bleary-eyed, the warlock raised his heavy head to meet Gaius's warm gaze, earning a small smile from the physician. "Come on, let's see to that arm of yours."

Merlin had never, ever gone through so much physical pain in his entire life. Gaius had immediately given him a few healing tonics to knock back, but they barely made a shadow of a difference; the physician had been reluctant to send him into a deeper sleep due to his head wound, which although Gaius had deemed to apparently be the mildest of concussions, could still cause a threat if not treated properly.

But Merlin wished he had just taken the risk. The tender burns made him painfully aware of every touch, and Gaius had really gone to town on his arm. The shard of wood had proved itself difficult to extract – the rough sides tore at his arm as it was removed, igniting small trickling rivers of fresh blood, and after the main chunk had been dealt with, the physician had meticulously tweezered out all of the individual splinters. The wound was then agonisingly disinfected and ardously stitched closed.

But by the time the needle had barely touched his arm, Merlin didn't think he could take any more. Blood thumped loudly in his ears, accompanying an intense throbbing that made him want to wince every heartbeat. His stomach churned and he felt he could vomit at any minute, his mouth salivating and tasting of bitter acid in the anticipation. His body felt like lead, and he wished he could do nothing but succumb to the lull of sleep, yet he also felt extremely light-headed and everything seemed to sway – thank heavens Arthur was there.

Merlin had expected the prince to rib him remorselessly and just pass him off as a cruddy manservant, a big girl, or just simply pathetic for all the noise he'd made – but he didn't. Once again, he'd adopted a supporting role, and Merlin had gladly surrendered and leaned back in the prince's secure grip while Gaius patched him up, his only link to the conscious world was when Arthur squeezed his hand – though the prince had encircled his other arm fully across Merlin's waist, both to restrain and comfort his manservant, when Gaius had excruciatingly realigned his broken arm and set it in a splint, and that had been before the burns had been treated. He'd really just wished Arthur would have done it sooner. It was the only reassurance he'd had.

Though he would never admit it, Merlin was immensely grateful for Arthur's solid, earnest support. He only hoped that he would be able to repay the debt.

Gaius sat back heavily and, now satisfied that Merlin's arm had been thoroughly cared for and was securely strapped to his chest, began insisting that both prince and manservant got some rest. Arthur had sent for extra blankets and so Uther had been covered in a thick layer, while Merlin also had one hanging from his shoulders. Having slowly regained full awareness, the manservant could now speak coherently and had protested that although he was indeed exhausted, sleep was the last thing he could achieve with a severely throbbing arm. Meanwhile, Arthur was still rooted to his father's bedside, and one definitive 'no' was more than enough for the notoriously wise man to tell that he would be wasting his breath on any further attempts.

The physician sighed tiredly, deeply worried that both boys were sure to drive themselves to a fatigued collapse – but he did know that they would look after one another, despite their own protests on the matter. With strict instructions to wake him, should anything happen, Gaius begrudgingly disappeared into Merlin's room to get some sleep.