Merlin dashed around the corners dodging other servants and guards, eliciting many shouts of annoyance. He knew that he was late, one of the hazards of trying to finish all his chores the previous evening as well as attempting a half-decent night's sleep. Still, he had managed to get everything done and he was well rested; he just hoped that the Prince wouldn't mind too much.

When he arrived at the Prince's chambers he was graced with the sight of Arthur sat on the end of his bed, fully clothed, tapping his foot impatiently. The warlock gulped.

"So. Merlin. Care to explain where you've been?" Arthur didn't actually sound very angry. He sounded like he was going to use this as an excuse to have fun torturing his servant; Merlin didn't feel reassured.

"I overslept," he replied instantly, grabbing the clothes that the Prince had managed to scatter across the floor.

"You overslept? Tired are we?" Arthur was smiling, a glint in his eyes. He looked... mischievous.

"I'm sorry Sire," he said, keeping his back to Arthur to hide the grimace.

"Oh, not at all Merlin. Take your time, by all means," the Prince told him cheerfully. Merlin gulped; this was going to be bad. "I have a meeting with my father, then I want to train for a while. Lance and Hoops."* The warlock was proud of the way he didn't flinch when that order was given out. Arthur knew how much Merlin hated it when they practiced jousting and he was using it to his advantage. It wasn't like the dark haired man could say no.

"Of course," the warlock murmured, trying not to look apprehensive. The prince just grinned and strolled out of the room looking as though all was right with the world. "Prat," Merlin added softly to himself, turning back to finish his chores.

By the time Arthur was finished with his own personal torture, Merlin's back was drenched in sweat and his hands trembled a little from the prolonged stress. But the Prince was grinning happily and clapping the warlock on the shoulder for a job well done.

"Maybe you're not completely useless Merlin," he said with a smile and it amused the warlock that to Arthur that was a genuine complement. He just grinned back, taking the lance that was handed to him without comment and securing it on its rack before returning to help Arthur remove his armour.

Once that was done the Prince washed his hands from a bowl of water, splashing away the sweat that had dried on his face and neck, relishing in the cool relief. Merlin buzzed around him quietly, sorting out his armour, putting a drink on the table beside him, making sure all his weapons were in the correct places. The poor boy must have been just as exhausted as Arthur but he didn't complain. The Prince found the beginnings of respect filling him.

His musing was broken by Leon's voice, torn with panic. Arthur's head snapped up to look at him, taking in his first in command's wide eyes and the way he was hurrying towards them as though there were hounds on his heels.

"Sire!" He shouted again when he was closer. He was breathing heavily as though he had sprinted the whole way here. "Your presence is required in the throne room, urgently! Sir Felmar's patrol has returned but they encountered bandits in the forest." Leon's voice dropped slightly in grief and the knight seemed to grow smaller. "Three of them have not returned."

Arthur felt something inside him shift, the beginnings of grief clawing its way through his walls and settling on his heart. He had given the order for those men to be sent out, and now he would have to tell their families that their son or their husband or their father would not be coming back. His eyes closed for a moment, controlling his emotions and sealing them away to be dealt with later; they would be of no use now.

"How many wounded?" Arthur demanded as he began to stride in the direction of the castle, Merlin and Leon following in his wake. Another servant jumped in to fulfil the chores that the warlock had just abandoned and he sent him a quick smile of gratitude.

"Sir Felmar is unhurt, though tired. Sir Bannor has a broken arm and the remaining four are all gravely injured." Leon reported dutifully.

"Who did we lose?" The Prince was a little proud of how strong he made his voice sound, even though he felt his heart drop to his boots at the thought of fallen comrades.

"Sirs Bohr, Randfell and Gurwen." That explained some of the overpowering grief in the knight's voice; Sir Randfell was his uncle. Arthur stopped in his tracks to look at him.

"I'm sorry Leon. He was a good man." He put a hand on the taller man's shoulder.

"They were all good men Sire," he corrected softly. "Camelot has suffered a great loss."

Merlin already had a lot of respect for the tall knight, and he liked him (he had a wicked sense of humour that the warlock appreciated as well as the fact that he was dedicated to the Prince's safety – which automatically made him Merlin's ally), but listening to the short exchange he found his respect growing. In that simple sentence he had proven just how much he would give for the city he loved and the warlock was touched at the devotion he could hear there.

Just before entering the throne room Arthur turned to Merlin abruptly.

"There's nothing for you to do here. Go and help Gaius and then report back on the knights' conditions." Merlin nodded without a word and dashed off as quickly as he could.

"Gaius?" He asked as he pushed open the door. The room inside was a mess and Merlin took a moment to absorb the sight.

To the left, close to the door, lay Sir Baldwin on an improvised cot with white bandages that were rapidly staining red crossing his chest and his face a tangle of dried blood and bruises. He didn't look conscious. Across the room propped up in a chair sat a conscious Sir Osric, who looked like he desperately wanted to join his comrade in blissful oblivion. His face was twisted into a horrible mask of pain and he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, both hands clawing towards his leg that was twisted at an unnatural angle. Just below his ribcage Merlin could see blood leaking from a deep gash. Sir Bannor was off to the right, cradling his broken arm in silence. His dark eyes were fixed on the white sheets in the corner that the warlock knew were concealing the remaining knights. Two more warriors that Arthur had lost; he was going to take this hard.

The physician was stood at his workbench, pounding some herds furiously with a mortar and pestle, his weathered face creased in concern.

"Gaius?" The warlock asked again, coming closer. "What do you need?" The old man looked up and shot a grateful smile at his ward. He nodded towards a small vial filled with an unappealing grey liquid.

"Give that to Sir Bannor. It will help with the pain.

For the next half hour the warlock dashed around the room, doing everything that Gaius asked of him: re-bandaging wounds, helping to calm down Sir Osric when his leg was reset, fetching more water and mixing potions. The work was slowing down though as the three patients fell into drug induced sleeps.

"Arthur will need you Merlin. I imagine they'll be riding out soon." Gaius looked at his ward and saw the exhaustion fighting with his determination. He felt pride flood his stomach along with a healthy dose of fear. "Take care of yourself my boy."

"I will Gaius," Merlin told him seriously before dashing out the door, ignoring the aching in his legs.

When Merlin reached the throne room it was to see Sir Felmar, tired and dusty sat in a seat trying to respond to Arthur's questioning. The Prince looked like a coiled snake, stressed and worried, but he as he paced back and forwards you could see the way he was thinking through plans and tactics.

"And you have no idea what they wanted? Did they take anything?" Felmar shook his head.

"No Sire. When we retreated they left the bodies in peace. From what we could see they didn't even search them."

'Now that doesn't make sense,' Merlin thought to himself. If they were bandits they would have looted the corpses of anything of value, including their armour and weapons. Something about this whole scenario was wrong.

"What would you estimate the size of their force to be?"

"In the clearing there were at least twenty five men, with more in the trees shooting arrows. But there could easily have been a back up force Sire. I would say at minimum there were forty of them." Arthur's heart sank. Forty bandits did not join together randomly: they wanted something.

"Did you see any sign of a commander, or anything to imply order?"

"I didn't see any one that was instructing them, but they worked as an organised force. The attacks were in timed waves to wear us out and they could fight as a unit. The ambush was... effective." The knight sounded grudgingly impressed by the skill with which their attackers had lured them into a trap.

Arthur's brow was furrowed with thought as he formed a basic plan of attack. Depending on the numbers of men he had and the density of the forest the details would have to be altered but it was something. He caught sight of Merlin standing off to one side.

"Thank you Sir Felmar. You have done well. Go to Gaius and get some rest." The knight stood and bowed slightly, wincing as his aching muscles complained.

"Yes Sire."

"Merlin, how are they?" Arthur demanded as soon as Felmar was gone.

"Sir Bannor will be fine – Gaius was able to set his arm without too much difficulty. Sir Osric had a broken leg that should also heal with deformity but he has a gash below his ribs that shows sign of infection. If his fever breaks soon, he should be alight. Sir Baldwin has several wounds on his chest and has shown no signs of waking since he arrived." The warlock grimaced. "His future is... uncertain." Merlin fell silent, but it was obvious that Arthur was expecting more.

"And the others? What of Sir Liam and Sir Eldwan?" Merlin felt something of relief at finally being able to put names to the poor lost souls in Gaius's quarters. Unable to speak, the warlock just shook his head. Arthur cursed colourfully, genuine grief tearing across his face for a moment before he could hide it. Merlin knew that Sir Liam had been like a brother to the lonely Prince. "Have my armour ready in my chambers, and alert the stable hands to tack up the horses. Then have Leon gather the knights in the courtyard ready to ride out in an hour."

"Sire," he murmured, ducking his head and dashing off again. On his way to the stables he encountered Sir Leon and passed on the message.

He didn't reach Arthur's chambers for another ten minutes. The Prince was pacing there, waiting for him but he said nothing about it, allowing Merlin to strap him into his armour without comment.

"Are you coming with us?" He asked after a moment. The warlock blinked up at him in surprise; he had never been given a choice in the matter before.

"Of course," he replied, aware that he sounded a little affronted.

"This isn't a patrol Merlin. We're going in with the intention of fighting. Not exactly your forte," Arthur ribbed slightly, smiling. Merlin purposely yanked on the strap he was fastening and the plate tightened around the Prince's ribs briefly, eliciting a hiss. Arthur glared at him but the warlock didn't apologise.

"I rode out against a dragon." Merlin just reminded him after a moment, keeping his eyes on his fingers. He wasn't trying to brag about what he'd done but he felt belittled at the idea that Arthur would doubt him now. The Prince nodded slowly, watching his servant with interest but the warlock continued to avoid his eyes.

"Alright then. Let's go hunt some bandits."

It took them almost an hour to reach the section of the woods that Sir Felmar had described. Merlin had been steadily growing more uneasy the closer they came, but now his panic was shifting into overdrive. The forest was entirely silent, save for the noises made by their own horses and the quiet whisper of orders that Arthur gave out.

"Arthur..." He murmured as he thought he saw a shadow shift. The Prince glanced over to him, taking in the wary way he was scanning the undergrowth and instantly feeling his own guards rising. "Something is wrong."

"There are bandits in this area Merlin, of course something is wrong." He joked to lighten the tension, even as he reached out with his senses, listening intently for any movement. The knights on patrol had been caught completely off guard, and the Prince was determined that it wouldn't happen again."Spread out," he ordered his men, keeping his voice low. If there were enemies in the vicinity, he didn't want to give them time to prepare even though a voice in the back of his mind told him that they were already being watched. Merlin, as usual, completely disregarded the order and stayed close to Arthur's side; the Prince was actually a little glad of his presence.

"Arthur, look," Merlin's voice was low as he pointed towards a clearing that was emerging from the trees. In the middle of the open space lay three corpses, sprawled in the dirt with their limbs twisted out around them, their distinctive red of their cloaks identification enough.

The prince dismounted almost silently, and very carefully began to walk out into the open beyond the tree line. After taking three long strides he stopped, his muscles tense, searching for any sign that bandits were about to launch an assault. When he heard nothing except for the pounding of blood in his veins, he took another few steps forward. Merlin watched him from the relative safety of the trees, all the while reaching out with his magic to try and work out if this was safe.

Arthur had to take a moment to control his emotions when he saw the lifeless eyes of his comrades staring blankly at the sky. He hadn't known these three knights all that well, but he still felt a great well of compassion for the families of these men, especially Leon. Crouching down, he very gently closed their eyes, moving to each body in turn and whispering a murmured prayer. When he reached Sir Randfell he felt compelled to mumble:

"I'll look after Leon. I swear to you."

He was so deep in grief scattered thought that when his servant shouted his name, terror obvious in his tone, Arthur couldn't quite comprehend what was going on. Confused, he spun on his heels as he rose to his feet, searching for his manservant in the shadows but finding no one. For half a second he stared at the empty space with panic filtering into his mind and then an all too familiar whooshing noise filled his ears and pain exploded in his shoulder and all down his left arm. He dropped to his knees with a strangled cry, wincing when the movement jolted the crossbow bolt that was lodged deep within the muscle just above his heart.

As soon as he hit the floor, men burst from every edge of the clearing, converging around him. The pain had made Arthur's vision blur and grey rather dramatically and so he was unable to take in any of the faces surrounding him, though his military mind automatically noted that they were all armed. They weren't wearing cloaks – from what he could tell – and therefore were not knights; who else was in the forest today apart from the bandits?

'This can't be good,' he thought briefly, feeling the weight of his upper body pulling him down towards the ground and the soft embrace of sleep. His vision filtered out entirely and he didn't feel it when he hit the floor. He was still aware enough for one final thought to cross his pain-filled mind:

'What happened to Merlin?'

EDIT AS OF 28/06/12

So this is in place of the previous first seven chapters of this story because they were utter rubbish. I know that it isn't much of an intro to the story and has nowhere near as much observation of the relationships but at least it was less OOC and didn't leave so many loose ends. To anyone joining us now, not all chapters will be this long, sorry.

*I'm aware that this didn't appear until season three (I think) but I figured that they would have done it in the past.