I know I haven't updated anything in a while. I just… haven't had the heart to write. Now, I'm trying to get back into it a bit before braving updating anything I have already posted. If anyone follows something else I'm writing, feel free to point me in the direction of some good reading for those fandoms. Helps me get back in the mood for the individual stories.

Anyway, trying my hand at a 'what-if' style Merlin story, initially based on Season 1, Episode 4, 'The Poisoned Chalice'.

Some content taken from the episode. No copyright infringement intended.

Prelude:

"I will not stand by and do nothing while Merlin dies!"

"What is the point of having a taster if you're going to get yourself killed anyway?" Uther demanded.

Arthur seethed, struggling to keep from shouting, but his voice nevertheless came out in a enraged hiss, "He is not my taster! He was not paid to take a risk! He is not even from within the borders of this kingdom! It is not his duty to die for me!" Arthur took a harsh breath, forcing himself to modulate his tone. "He knew, father—he knew that cup was poisoned and he drank anyway. It was not some abstract risk. He willfully chose to drink so that I would not! He is not even among our subjects—I cannot watch my friend die like this!"

Uther had a sudden memory of his own youth, of a knight-friend who fought and died for him, and suddenly he understood. Arthur had always been forced to be the Prince, above all others. This—this peasant-boy who had walked into Camelot to learn medicine from Giaus (presumably before returning to his home village in another kingdom) had done what no one else had.

The boy challenged Arthur at every turn, showed none of the deference of the other servants, and had—more than once, now—saved his son's life.

Now it made more sense. The boy was not of the Kingdom of Camelot. He held no duty to the crown, not even in the abstract sense that the Kingdom's subjects did. What he had done had been for Arthur. In friendship, not duty.

And it was quite clear that Arthur was not going to let this go. He relented enough to stop walking and look at his son, only to see the distress in blue eyes. "Like what, exactly?"

Arthur closed his eyes, "Giaus says it will be slow and painful. He may linger for as long as five days."

And what, Uther wondered, would he have done if it had been his only friend suffering so? Or worse—his son?

"Take two of the knights with you. Take no unnecessary risks, and report to me as soon as you get the flower to Giaus."

The sudden, heartfelt gratitude that flashed across his son's face was intense and unmistakable. "Thank you, father."

Arthur bowed and turned down a side hall, starting to run within three paces.

xxxx