Emrys had been running for so long that his chest burned as he struggled to breathe. Each breath was nothing more than a pained gasp, and he found himself stumbling into trees and over rocks, his legs weak and shaky. He had been collecting herbs in the forest surrounding the Druid camp when he had been spotted by a group of bandits. He had flashed his eyes gold when they attempted to rob him, hoping that the threat of magic would be enough to scare them off, but it had had the opposite effect. Now they wanted him as well as his belongings.

"Get back here!" one of the bandits shouted, and in response Emrys pushed himself to run faster. His vision was growing blurry, black spots dancing in front of his eyes, and he knew he wouldn't be able to run much longer.

I can't keep going like this. I have to hide and make sure they don't find me this time. Just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard a soft whistling noise, and a moment later sharp pain erupted from his right shoulder. He let out a cry of shock and stumbled forward, his left hand reaching up to touch his shoulder. He felt the body of an arrow sticking out of his skin, and when he pulled his hand back he blanched at the sight of green-tinged blood. Poison. They wanted him alive, so he knew the poison wasn't life-threatening, but it was enough to render him unconscious, and he did not want to see what the bandits had in store for him if they managed to catch him.

Biting his lip to stifle any further groans of pain, Emrys veered to the right, tumbling down a small hill. He ended up sprawled on his back in the middle of a small clearing, the world around him spinning. He heard the bandits coming from above him, and he rolled onto his stomach, wincing at the pain the motion caused. His movements were becoming sluggish as the poison coursed through his veins, and he used the last of his energy to drag himself beneath an overhang, hidden behind thick foliage. The last thing he saw before he fainted was the group of bandits running by.

Arthur Pendragon rose his hand, the knights at his back coming to a sudden halt. The forest quietly sung around them, and up ahead, in a small clearing down a hill, was a beautiful deer. It was nosing at the ground, its tail whipping and sides heaving. Arthur swallowed, shifting just enough to lift his crossbow. He was taking his aim and what would have been a deadly shot and an amazing trophy was interrupted by a sneeze that came from behind him. The deer didn't hesitate to run off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the trees. Arthur let out a long sigh, straightening himself up. He turned around slowly, eyes narrowing. The few knights with him all glanced between one another.

"Now, who was the idiot that couldn't hold in a simple sneeze?" he asked, holding the crossbow in a way that made the knights shift. Arthur looked ready to use it on one of them.

"I-it was I, sire!" a younger knight admitted, staring at the ground, "the... the outside makes my nose itch and-"

Arthur stopped listening, because a piece of fabric attached to a tree near him caught his eye. The light breeze in the air made the dark piece of clothe shift against the lighter bark of the tree. He had been so intent on following the deer tracks, he hadn't noticed it before. "Shut up," he told the knight without a care of what he was saying, moving forward.

Now that he saw the clothe, he began thinking what he originally thought was deer tracks not actually being so. The knights observed their prince kneeling down, staring at the ground, and then doing it a few feet away again. At the top of the hill, Arthur looked down the grassy decline, then turned to them.

"Not all these tracks belong to deer," he informed them, holding out his crossbow while looking back down the hill.

Immediately, the knight that had sneezed rushed forward to grab it. Arthur didn't look back as he easily slipped down the hill, giving the clearing a good look around. He noticed more tracks, and ah, blood. He touched it. It wasn't exactly fresh, but it was fresh enough to let him know this had happened earlier today or late last night. He followed the tracks, the knights having joined him, and was led to an overhang. He pushed the thick foliage back, and let out a small gasp.

A young man laid there, an arrow sticking from his shoulder. Arthur was briefly caught by the peacefulness and beauty of his face, before he came back to himself. He scolded his own behavior as he called the knights over to help. They carefully dragged the man out. Arthur couldn't tell if he had anymore injuries, and he noticed not only the blood on the arrow's tip, but the green liquid as well. Poison.

"We have to get him to Gaius immediately," Arthur demanded; he would not leave somebody out in the forest to die. They had been getting word of bandits in the forests near his home. Perhaps this boy was an unfortunate victim of theirs. But, who could really be sure, unless Arthur asked the injured lad himself. Which, the young prince was determined to make possible.

Emrys had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like days, though in reality it had only been a few hours. There were moments when he was painfully aware of the throbbing in his shoulder, but these moments were short-lived, as he ended up slipping back into unconsciousness soon after waking. When Arthur found the young druid, he was in a state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, and he stirred when he heard voices in the distance. The voices sounded muffled and far away, and Emrys couldn't understand what they were saying, but he feared that the bandits had returned.

The poison made it difficult for Emrys to think, but his instincts were screaming at him to run and hide. He slowly blinked open hazy blue eyes, the normally bright orbs glazed over and dull, and ended up meeting Arthur's gaze. The prince's form was blurry, and Emrys let out a soft groan of pain as he attempted to crawl away from Arthur, unable to make out his armor or insignia. His breathing was labored and his eyes were half-closed as he looked up at Arthur pleadingly, silently begging him not to hurt him. His fair skin was pale and clammy, and his black locks of hair were stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat.

Emrys blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision, but found that his eyes closed further each time he did so. The fatigue caused by the poison was catching up to him again, and he knew that he was slipping. He stared up at Arthur for another moment, his pale lips moving but no sound coming out, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell unconscious once again, his body going completely limp.

Arthur would never say so aloud, but he did have a caring side that went far deeper than even he realized or would admit to. The concern he had for this young man made him forget his previous endeavor, which had been bringing some game back home, just to show that he could. He couldn't shake the image of dulled blue eyes from his head, the pleading they held, unsure as to whether it was a plea for help or mercy. Now that the knights had helped him carefully move the young lad into the sunlight, he could see how truly injured he was. Whatever it was that the arrow was dipped in was doing its job. There wasn't much time to waste, for who knew how long the man had been out here.

"Should we remove the arrow, sire?" one of his knights asked, hand hovering near the injured man's shoulder.

Arthur waved his hand away, shaking his head. "I fear we will make it worse. This arrow has been dipped in something, more than likely poison," he pointed out the green that was mixing with the red on the arrow tip, "Gaius will know what to do. We just have to move him carefully."

That proved to be a trial. Not wanting to jar the man's shoulder and cause him more pain, or possibly wake him from his unconscious state, they carried him awkwardly to where their horses were tied up. Arthur mounted his horse and, with help from the knights, they slipped the young man in front of their prince. Arthur made sure the injured lad leaned back against him in a way that his shoulder wouldn't be jarred too much, Arthur's arm wrapped around his chest to support his limp form. Arthur was off the next change he got, making his horse travel as fast as she could. He held the man a little tighter, trying to prevent him from bouncing around too much. His head gently knocked into Arthur's chin and jaw multiple times during the ride, which the prince ignored. He hadn't wanted to drape him over the back of his horse, not wanting to cause the man more pain. It seemed he had been through enough.

They hadn't traveled too far from Camelot. Arthur entered his home, barely slowing his horse down. Once he stopped at the towering castle stairs, two of his knights were there, helping him gently guide the man down from his horse. "Go to Gaius; tell him to prepare for an injured, possibly poisoned, man." Arthur demanded to no one in particular, but one of the knights still ran off, in the direction of Gaius' chambers.

Arthur dismounted, throwing his horse's reins in the direction of the stable boy, not caring enough to check if he caught them or not. He followed after the knights carrying the young man, staring at his limp form with a frown. Once he found out more about the man's condition, and what Gaius could do, he'd bring word to his father. His father would soon find out his son had returned, and be impatiently waiting to discover what was going on. If Arthur kept his father waiting too long, he wouldn't be surprised if the King barged into Gaius' chambers himself to see what all the fuss was about. Arthur simply wanted more details before he went to his father... and perhaps his concern for the man ran deeper than even he yet realized.

Emrys did not stir again, remaining still throughout the entirety of the journey back to Camelot; he would have appeared dead if not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His head fell limply back against Arthur's chest as the prince carried him to Gaius' chambers, his arms hanging from his sides like a ragdoll's, and he looked almost peaceful. Gaius looked up from his work when the door to his chambers opened, and his eyes widened at the sight of Prince Arthur holding an injured young man in his arms.

"What on Earth happened?" he demanded, getting to his feet and guiding Arthur over to a cot next to his desk, instructing the blonde to place Emrys on it. He didn't wait for an answer, immediately getting to work. He examined the young man's wound, muttering to himself, before grabbing a clean cloth and some bandages. "Get me a bowl of water will you?" he huffed, placing the items on the cot next to Emrys before shuffling over to his desk, picking up a mortar and pestle and various herbs. "I need to clean the wound."

Once the prince had left to fetch some water, Gaius used a knife to gently cut off Emrys' shirt. His eyes widened when he spotted the druid mark on the young man's uninjured shoulder, and he quickly hid the mark by wrapping a few bandages around it. This boy is in danger, and not just because of his injury, the old man thought uneasily as he awaited Arthur's return. Meanwhile, Emrys stayed completely unconscious and unaware.

It was not an abnormal thing for Prince Arthur to be so worried over an injured person, to the point of even bringing said injured person to Gaius to be tended by. The knights were not blind; they saw the care and worry Arthur held for his people within the borders of Camelot. Though, they dare not breathe a word of it, or else Arthur would surely use them as a practice dummy with his actual sword rather than a wooden one. Perhaps Arthur did not see the depth of care or kindness inside of himself, but some of the knights did, one of those knights being Sir Leon who witnessed Arthur bringing a young injured lad in on horseback. He would be sure to distract the King so Arthur could do what he needed to.

Meanwhile, Arthur had no problem listening to Gaius. Something about the old man had made it to where Arthur felt the need to follow his demands, rather than to remind him he was the Prince, not Gaius. Perhaps it was because Gaius wasn't demanding at all until it was something like this, and naturally, Arthur had no clue what to do. So, following the old man's demands was no trouble at all. He rushed off, with the intent to get water as quickly as he could. So lost in his thoughts, he ran into somebody, hearing a soft gasp beside him. He looked to his left to see Morgana's pretty servant, Guinevere, kneeling down to gather up clothes and blankets that had fallen from the dropped basket. She was rambling, apologizing to Arthur, but Arthur was too much in a hurry to hear her.

"Just stop babbling and clean it up," he snapped, none too nicely, before rushing off. He shook his head in disgust and at last, fetched the water. He rushed back the same way, seeing no sign of Guinevere this time, and reentered Gaius' chambers. "Here you are," he said, placing the bucket of water near the table the injured lad was laid upon. With his shirt off, he looked much more pale and sweaty. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed some. "Do you have an idea of whether he'll be alright or not yet?" the young prince wondered.

Gaius turned away from Emrys when the prince entered, his gaze falling on the bucket of water. "Ah, very good," he muttered, pushing the image of the druid mark to the back of his mind; he would worry about that later, once the boy was awake.

"Do you have an idea of whether he'll be alright or not yet?" Arthur asked as Gaius pulled the table with his supplies closer to Emrys' bed. Gaius shook his head, not bothering to look up at the prince, too focused on the task at hand.

"Not yet, sire. His well-being will greatly depend on whether or not I can staunch the blood flow once I remove the arrow." The old man was confident in his abilities as a healer, but he didn't want to lie to the prince and say the boy would be okay when there was no way of knowing for sure at that moment.

Without another word, Gaius carefully wrapped his right hand around the rod of the arrow, placing his left hand on Emrys' shoulder to hold him still. He took a breath, preparing himself, and gently began to tease the arrowhead from the young man's flesh. Emrys didn't react right away, but eventually the pain filtered through the fog in his mind and he visibly winced, his face contorting with discomfort. His body went tense, but Gaius didn't stop, continuing to pull until the arrow was free.

Blood immediately welled up in the wound, and Gaius hastily dropped the arrow onto the table and picked up a clean cloth, pressing it against Emrys' shoulder. "Hold this here for a moment," he instructed Arthur, only letting go once the prince was applying adequate pressure. He grabbed another cloth and soaked it in water, wringing it out before shooing Arthur away and beginning to clean the wound.

Emrys' eyes were moving frantically beneath his closed lids, and every so often he would let out a quiet whimper of pain. Once Gaius was finished cleaning the wound, dropping the red-and-green stained cloth onto the table, he picked up the herb mixture he had prepared and began slathering it onto Emrys' wound. He then wrapped the wound tightly with bandages. At this point the salve had begun to dull the pain, and Emrys relaxed once again, falling asleep now instead of unconscious. Gaius let out a sigh of relief and turned to Arthur with a small smile.

"He will be fine, sire. I will let you know when he wakes up."

Arthur simply nodded at Gaius' answer. He had seen many injuries before, had even had many himself. He had witnessed Gaius tending to those injured men, or if he was awake during a minor injury, watching. He made himself watch. He hardened himself to the point he didn't cringe at the sight of blood, or flinch at the sounds of pained whimpers. He trained himself to be able to handle it, for the battlefield or outside world had no care about whether he was sickened by seeing blood or not.

Thus, he watched easily as Gaius pulled the arrow from the young lad's shoulder. Arthur once had an arrow to the leg. He knew the pain of an embedded object in one's body, yet at least his arrow had not been poisoned. Arthur was beginning to wonder if the injured man angered somebody to the point of attacking him. The bandits were growing worse around their area, but his knights and he didn't see poisoned arrows used very often.

The room seemed so quiet as the arrow was removed, the only sounds the noises the young lad was making. Though Arthur was hardened by the sight and smell of blood, by the sounds of pain, he wasn't hardened to feeling utterly useless. But, it didn't take long for him to have something to do. He didn't hesitate to move forward, holding the cloth to the spot an arrow once was.

Arthur was briefly caught by the way the man's eyes were moving beneath his closed lids. He remembered those eyes, a clouded blue, that had been begging him for mercy or help. The prince didn't know which, and it didn't matter at this point, for he was giving help. He moved once Gaius returned, watching the old man work on the wound. The wound was just a hole where the arrow went in; amazing, how such a small thing could cause such a fuss.

Arthur straightened when Gaius turned to him, delivering good news. The young prince nodded. "Thank you, Gaius," his eyes briefly shifted to the sleeping man on the table. "After all, he will owe me for saving his life." he nodded at the physician before leaving the room.

Now, to face his father, and let him know what had just transpired.

Gaius watched Arthur leave with a considering frown set on his wrinkled face. Once the prince was gone, he began to clean up his supplies, intent on keeping himself busy until the young man - the druid - awakened. He would not have to wait long, as only a few hours later Emrys began to stir. He suddenly shifted on the cot, a soft groan escaping his lips as his eyelids fluttered. Gaius hurried over to his side, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder to keep him still. Emry's blue eyes opened, slightly cloudy with fatigue, and he looked up at the physician blearily.

"Wh...what happened?" he croaked out, struggling to sit up. Gaius helped him into a sitting position and handed him a cup of water that had been waiting on the table. "Where am I?" As soon as he was conscious he could feel that his wound had been treated, and the old man in front of him had kind eyes, so he knew that he had been rescued.

"You are in Camelot." Gaius didn't miss the way the young man flinched at the name. "Prince Arthur brought you to me when he found you injured in the forest."

Emrys' eyes widened comically. "P-Prince Arthur?" he spluttered, his tone incredulous. Gaius nodded, gesturing to the cup of water in his hand.

"Drink." The druid hesitated but eventually reached for the water, taking a few slow sips. The cool water felt heavenly on his dry throat, and when he spoke again his voice was clearer.

"Thank you." He then attempted to stand, at which point Gaius had to hold him back.

"Where do you think you're going? You still need to recover!" Emrys avoided eye contact, picking at a loose thread on the blanket draped over him.

"I...I can't stay here. I...have to go home." Gaius sighed and gave Emrys a pointed look.

"I know you are a druid. I saw the mark." The young man stiffened, his body going rigid, his eyes brightening with panic. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." Emrys looked up at the healer in shock. Gaius gave him a wry smile. "I once practiced magic, a long time ago."

Emrys sat up straighter, ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder. "You did?"

"Yes, and I knew many druids in my younger days. Because of that I will keep your secret safe. But you cannot leave."

The brunette frowned. "Why not?" Gaius sighed heavily.

"You owe Prince Arthur your life. You are indebted to him." Emrys stared at him for a few moments, processing. Then he let out a groan and flopped back onto the bed.

"Of course I am," he muttered, throwing his uninjured arm over his eyes. Gaius found himself smiling at the young man's actions.

"What's your name, young man?" Emrys was silent for a few moments, thinking. Then, he said quietly,

"My name is Merlin." Gaius nodded.

"What an interesting name. Anyway, you have to keep that mark hidden while you are here. I can give you a wrap for it." Emrys gave the old man a tired smile.

"Thank you again, mister...?" Gaius waved his hand dismissively.

"It's no trouble at all. And call me Gaius. Emry's smile widened.

"Okay, Gaius." He settled back down and closed his eyes, trying to relax despite the fear he felt knowing that he was indebted to Prince Arthur. Prince Arthur, the son of King Uther, who had outlawed magic in Camelot and labeled druids like him as criminals. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

[Sorry for taking so long! I've been busy with college >.<']

As expected, Arthur's father hadn't taken the news of the injured lad well. "You brought an unknown man into Camelot's walls! Arthur, I've taught you better than this!"

Arthur resisted rolling his eyes. Barely. He had been standing here for nearly ten minutes now, going back and forth with his father. He was beginning to grow impatient, but he wasn't trying to show it. He tried with his father. "What kind of prince would the people see me as if I had left a man to die?" Arthur asked, the feeling in the fingers he was squeezing tightly behind his back almost gone, "Or, what kind of king would they see you as if you raised your son to be such a way?"

His impatience and annoyance bled into his tone, if King Uther's pinched brow was anything to go by. "Do not take that tone with me!" he said, giving Arthur a warning look, who didn't break eye contact. The young man stood tall and proud, sure of his words, and King Uther noticed. He took pause, whipping his cape out of the way as he sat back down on his throne. "I suppose there is some truth to your words."

Arthur puffed up a little with pride. "Why, thank you, Father," he said, nodding his head in acknowledgment. He knew he was right, but any praise from his father was like a fresh drink of water after a long day of practice. Arthur sought his father's approval like a starved dog sought meat.

"But, that doesn't mean I am thrilled with what you have done. A armed guard will be placed at Gaius' door until we find out more about this man. Once he is awaken and able to move, I want him immediately brought to me. Understood?"

Arthur thought his father was somewhat overreacting, but his father hadn't seen how near-death the young lad had been. "Yes, father," Arthur bowed before he quickly left the throne room. Outside in the hallway, he nearly knocked Morgana down when he ran right into her. "Morgana!" he said in surprise, catching her arm just in time to right her.

Morgana huffed, stepping away and taking her arm from Arthur's grasp. "Did anyone teach you how to walk? Surely one of the servants or caretakers did," she said in a tone of voice that meant she was upset about something else, but was taking it out on Arthur.

"Did anyone teach you to not eavesdrop?" Arthur shot right back, fighting off a grin at the brief flash of shock that crossed Morgana's face.

"I was not- a lady-"

"Of which you are not. Did you hear anything of interest?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips and allowing a smug smile to cross his face.

Morgana huffed again, cheeks darkening. "I was coming to talk to the king myself, and happened to overhear. What of it? I only discovered that the mighty Arthur does have a heart." she teased, her lips twitching upwards.

The smugness left Arthur's body all at once, being replaced by a scowl that was more of a pout. Something that Arthur would not admit to. "Oh, jealous, are you, Morgana? Perhaps you'll grow a heart eventually, though I do not see it happening soon," he brushed pass her, not willing to keep fighting with her. She was taking her frustrations out on him, but it was not as if he didn't do the same. With a shake of his head, he went off to practice with his knights. He doubted the boy was awake, and he had some pent up aggression he needed to get out before checking in. At least his father agreed to care for the stranger, yet how long? Once the stranger was healed, he was indebted to Arthur, thus Uther. It would be the king's decision.

After a few hours of bruising up his knights, Arthur ended up at Gaius' door. If anything, King Uther was a man of his word; an armed guard stood outside the door. Arthur ignored him. He was messy from his practice; he had taken his armor off, yet his hair was sticking from where he ran his hand through it to get it off his sweaty forward. His cheeks were still red from the intensity of his training session, his lips bitten red and chapped. He never went easy. He entered without knocking, for he was the prince. He did not knock in his home... unless it was to his father's chambers. "Gaius! Any improvement-" Arthur stopped in his tracks when he realized the unconscious lad was no longer unconscious, and blinked in surprise. "Well... that answers that, then," he mumbled.

[I'm soooooo sorry for the wait! College and real life really got to me.]