The king has been lying motionless for an entire day now. Gwaine has grown restless. He transitions between pacing in front of the fire, getting things for Gaius and staring intently at Arthur's sleeping face.

Other than improved breathing and the return of some color to his festures, Arthur remains the same. Gaius assures him that this is perfectly normal and that the king will need time to heal, but Gwaine can't help the nagging feeling that pulls at his gut that perhaps the king won't make it. If Arthur were to die now he would be leaving a broken queen to command the knights who have fallen into disarray. The word of Camelot's current state has spread past its borders, which means that it's only a matter of time until one of her neighbors decides to attempt an invasion.

Gwaine stands once again to pass uneasily in front of the fire. The reality of his situation becoming increasingly apparent to him. Camelot is currently being led by a grief-sick queen, an unconscious dying king, a handful of disorganized knights, and facing near certain invasion. Gwaine cannot protect the entire kingdom singlehandedly and so far the most active thing within the castle is the rumors that jump like fleas from one person to another. Something must be done.

"Dammit Arthur!" Gwaine hisses, clenching his fist around the hilt of his sword. He turns to look at the silent king. No change, he still lay there, sleeping soundly.

Gwaine turns and stares into the fire, listening to the king's shallow breaths and Gaius' distant shuffling. A sudden crash makes his hand fly to his sword handle taking it halfway out of its sheath before he sees the crimson crest emblazoned on the chest of the knight who had burst into the chambers. He quickly pushes his sword back and turns to regard the man curently panting like a stallion.

"What are you thinking, man!" Gwaine barks at him, "The king lay half dead and you burst in here like some mad creature!"

The man continues to heave as Gwaine stalks up to him, "What could be so urgent?! Come on! Spit it out soldier!"

"Cenred's men- coming from south- invasion!" the knight wheezes past the chain mail and over-tightened chest plate as he attempts to recapture his breath.

Gwaine freezes at the man's words. Yes, he had expected this. But so soon? He had thought it would take another fortnight at least. If Cenred's men approach from the south then they will have to cross over most of Camelot's farmland and rural villages. It just doesn't make sense. Why would a seasoned soldier like Cenred make such an obvious, and likely ineffective, move?

"Its a distraction." Gwaine mumbles, "I'm sure of it. He's made an alliance of some sort. There will be a second attack from one of the northern or eastern territories. They're converging on the citadel." he turns to the flushed man that had finally regained some level of composure, "Call a meeting of the round table. Camelot is officially under attack."

The knights scampers off quickly, leaving the door to swing loosly on its whining hinges as Gwaine looks on for a moment, still absorbing the shock of the new developments. He covers his face with his hands and utters a drawn-out sigh. He drops his hands back, only to be met with the sight of Arthur's limp body, still resting by the fire, hardly alive if not for the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest.

"Why now Arthur?" Gwaine mutters miserably, "You've made it all for naught, you bastard."

Gwaine tears his gaze away from The pathetic king and stalks through the door, letting it slam freely against the wall. His footsteps echo through the hallway as he approaches ever nearer to the council chamber and the unavoidable truth.

He takes a breath and braces himself before pushing through the oak doors and facing the circle of knights whose capes hang like damp rags and faces follow suit.

"Men, Camelot is at war, and we're all that's standing between her and destruction. God help us."