Author's Note: This is just a little thing I am going to be working on in my down time...which I do not have much of. I am unfortunately going to be taking a little break from my other stories for the time being. I am too busy to keep up with them, but they are not forgotten or abandoned. I am going to be making a compilation of one chapter stories from various times in the life of Merlin. They will encompass all characters to some degree, but will mostly focus on Arthur, Merlin and their unique relationship. I love feedback so please REVIEW! Anyways, here is the first story. I hope you enjoy!

*Set sometime in Season 2

Something was bothering Arthur Pendragon. And, for once, it wasn't Merlin.

Merlin supposed he should take some comfort in not being the cause of Arthur's temper tantrum. After all, it was a very rare thing indeed for the prince to not find some way to blame whatever had angered him on his servant. Normally, Merlin would have taken the reprieve with a silent prayer of gratitude to the gods, but there was something different about Arthur's mood this time. A certain severity that Merlin could not ignore. There was tension in his master's shoulders, a haunted bitterness that Merlin could not escape.

Arthur had been in his foul mood for the better part of a week. He'd hardly spoken to Merlin and when he had it had almost always been to chastise him in some way. It felt to Merlin that nothing he did was good enough for the prince. Of course, if Merlin were honest with himself that was how it normally was, but while Arthur often teased his servant about his general inefficiency, Merlin knew that, beneath it all, Arthur really was only teasing. After all, they had an image to maintain. A degree of haphazard and reluctant fondness for another that the other servants and denizens of the castle had come to rely upon.

This week, however, the taunts had been mean spirited. Arthur had purposely spoken to him with harsh words meant to hurt and, even worse, acted as if Merlin didn't exist unless he had done something wrong. As soon as Merlin made a mistake, Arthur tore into him as if he were a hound and Merlin was a bone. It hadn't mattered who heard, hadn't mattered who was watching. By the time the week had come to an end, the boys weren't speaking to one another.

It had taken everything Merlin had to pull himself from bed and march up to Arthur's chambers on Saturday morning. He had probably stared at the door for five minutes before he could work up enough goodwill towards the prince to go inside only to discover that Arthur had shut him out. The doors to Arthur's room were locked. Merlin could do nothing but stare in amazement. The doors had never been locked. Even when Arthur despised Merlin the prince had allowed him to enter, however reluctant his admittance might have been.

Merlin tried the door once more, as if his persistence could break locks, but was met with the same obstinance as before. Hurt swept through him despite his anger over Arthur's childish tantrum. He had done nothing to deserve treatment like this. Arthur could be unfair, could be rude and was certainly a prat, but he had never been cruel. Not like this.

Merlin kicked the door hard. He wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping for, but surely his insolence would incite anger in his master. Anger enough to open the door and confront him, berate him. They would argue, but at least Arthur would be there. At least the door would be opened. All his actions did, however, was incite his foot to throb. There was no answer from behind the prince's door. Not even a hint that the prince was there...even though Merlin knew that he was. He could sense Arthur's presence like a tangible thing, like the vibration of taut strings after being plucked.

Merlin had waited for a few moments for something to happen, for Arthur to show his face, but he never did. There was nothing else for Merlin to do, but go about his day and wait for the prince to come out of hiding. After all, Arthur had duties to attend to. Surely, the young man wouldn't abandon the very things he held sacred. He had knights to train, matters of court to attend to. Merlin would just do the tasks assigned to him and confront his friend when he poked his head out of his hole.

Only...Arthur never did poke his head out. He remained in his chambers for the rest of the day. Even when Merlin brought him lunch and dinner the door never opened. Merlin had no other option but to return home and see if tomorrow brought about any change. He wasn't happy about it and for the rest of the night Merlin was so surly that Gaius sent him to bed out of exasperation. Merlin fell asleep thinking of all the ways he'd like to pummel Arthur Pendragon. Turning the crown prince of Camelot into something slimy might get him killed, but damn it was tempting.

Merlin was dreaming about a frog shaped Arthur when something hit him hard in the head. He awoke violently, hands rising to cover his head, with visions of Arthur croaking still dancing behind his eyes. A cold hand wrapped around his mouth and Merlin, without any real thought about who might be waking him up in the middle of the night, bit down hard. The owner of the mauled hand swore loudly and thumped him on the side of the head. Merlin immediately let go. Not because the blow to his head had hurt him, but because the cursing voice was alarmingly familiar.

"I can't believe you bit me," Arthur whispered harshly from across the room, holding his bitten hand and staring at Merlin as if he'd never seen him before.

"You snuck into my room," Merlin said, thinking that Arthur was lucky he hadn't been blasted with magic instead. "You deserved whatever you got."

"You bit me," Arthur said again.

"Repeating a thing doesn't undo it," Merlin grunted, rubbing the top of his head. "What did you hit me with?"

"I could get rabies," Arthur said, ignoring his servant.

"It's the middle of the night," Merlin sighed, not in the mood to take part in whatever game the prince was playing.

"You're my servant, Merlin. I can call on you anytime it pleases me."

"Arthur," Merlin began, still rubbing his head.

"We're leaving," Arthur said abruptly. "Get dressed."

"Leaving?" Merlin repeated, staring up Arthur in surprise. "Where?"

"Does it matter?" Arthur replied harshly. "We're leaving, Merlin. Now do as I say."

"But-"

"But what?" Arthur asked sharply.

"It's the middle of the night," Merlin snapped back.

"I'm well aware of that, Merlin. So, now that we've both agreed on the time of day, I would remind you of the task at hand. Or can your tiny brain handle something as arduous as putting on a shirt?"

Merlin glared at Arthur. Honestly, it was moments like this that Merlin wanted nothing more than to teach the prince some humility. It would be so easy. A whispered word, a flash of gold and Arthur would never see him as a lowly servant ever again. Arthur thought he knew power, knew strength, but he had no idea. And Merlin could teach him.

Merlin opened his mouth to snap back in anger, but something in Arthur's expression stopped him. Despite the prince's harsh words there was a vulnerability in his eyes that Merlin wasn't used to. Merlin closed his mouth, shook his head once, and threw the covers over the side of the bed. Arthur didn't say a word as Merlin dressed, choosing instead to look out the window of Merlin's room at the moonlit streets of Camelot. Merlin put on his shoes, secured his neckerchief, and turned to face his friend.

"Ready," he said quietly. "You going to tell me what this is all about?"

"No," Arthur replied. "Follow me."

"Why do I even ask?" Merlin muttered under his breath, reluctantly following Arthur out the door of Gaius' home.

Merlin blearily followed Arthur through the darkened castle, fighting to keep his eyes open long enough to reach whatever destination Arthur had in mind. They twisted and weaved until Merlin smelled the tantalizingly warm and crisp scent of baking bread. The kitchens. Arthur had led them into the hallowed halls of the castle cook, but for what purpose Merlin could not discern. Merlin's stomach growled and he looked down at it as if it had betrayed him. It was too early to be hungry. Too early for anything but sleep, yet here he was...awake and hungry.

"Wait here," Arthur told him quietly. Merlin looked up in time to see the prince's back disappear through the kitchen doors.

Merlin heard muffled voices for a moment and then Arthur was back, carrying two loaves of fresh bread, a wheel of cheese, two apples and two flasks of what smelled suspiciously like the cook's famous apple cider. Merlin's mouth watered. The apple cider was a special treat that was usually reserved for festivals and feasts. Even Arthur was rarely served the delicious brew and he must have flirted shamelessly to con such a prize from the cook.

"Breakfast," Arthur said. He handed Merlin an apple, one loaf of bread and one of the coveted flasks. Breaking the cheese in half he took a portion for himself and handed the other to his servant.

"Arthur," Merlin sighed, looking at the food in his hands with longing. "What is going on? You've been acting strangely all week."

"Strangely?" Arthur questioned, tearing off a piece of bread with his teeth and chewing.

"Mean," Merlin amended. "You've been mean."

"I have not," Arthur scoffed.

"Prattyer than ever, sire."

"Merlin, I have not been mean. You're just overly sensitive. Not that uncommon for a girl."

"Arthur-"

"Eat your breakfast," Arthur finally snapped. "You won't have time later."

"What's happening later?"

"You really have no idea how to shut up, do you?"

"I have a right to know what's going on, Arthur."

"No, you don't, Merlin. You're a servant, remember?"

"And you're a prat," Merlin said icily. "We all have our crosses to bear."

Arthur rolled his eyes and refused to say anything more until Merlin had eaten all of his breakfast. Then, with a ridiculous snap of his fingers that made Merlin want to shove Arthur in a dark hole, he ordered Merlin to ready their horses. Merlin continued to needle and prod at where they were going, but still Arthur refused to answer. Even as they made their way out of the city and into the wilderness beyond Arthur remained stoic and aloof.

They had been riding for almost an hour, in a direction Merlin was unfamiliar with, when Arthur suddenly raised his hand and told Merlin to stop. He wasn't entirely sure what they were stopping for. It hadn't been long enough for them to need a break and there was nothing that Merlin could see that was worth halting for. Then, as if from the depths of the earth itself, Merlin could sense a dim form of energy rising up around him. It thrummed against his skin, comforting yet alien. His magic tentatively reached out and mingled with the energy. It was familiar in some way, but for the life of him he could not figure out why.

Merlin watched Arthur slide from his horse and he did the same. As soon as his feet touched the ground the humming stopped, the energy retreated and Merlin felt strangely alone. Abandoned by whatever power had been there. Arthur strode forward and through a grove of trees into what looked like a clearing shrouded by the trees branches. Merlin followed him, but was stopped by the beauty of what lay on the other side.

It was a clearing, but not like any clearing Merlin had ever seen before. The grass was tall and dark, so green that against the contrast of the morning sky above it almost looked black. Bright flowers covered the landscape, dotting the ground with vibrant splotches of red, yellow, pink and orange. The clearing itself was a perfect circle, surrounded by willows, their long branches trailing the ground like elegant fingers. In the middle of the clearing was a large grey stone, surrounded by flowers and what looked like tiny fairy rings. The energy Merlin had felt earlier buzzed around him, fainter than before but strong enough that it made him a little dizzy.

"What is this place?" Merlin asked, coming forward to stand at Arthur's side.

"I used to come here all the time," Arthur said softly. "And then I stopped. I don't know why."

Merlin said nothing. He had the distinct feeling that he wasn't meant to respond just yet.

"I never met her," Arthur continued. "And yet...I feel like I have. Like I should remember her more than I do." Arthur turned to look at Merlin questioningly. "Is that strange? To yearn for someone you've never met?"

Understanding slammed into Merlin like a physical blow. Ygraine. Arthur had brought them to his mother's grave. It explained the familiarity of the energy in the clearing. So like her son's. So like Arthur's.

"Arthur," Merlin began.

"I get so jealous of you sometimes, Merlin."

"Jealous?" Merlin asked, shocked. "Of me?"

"Hunith," Arthur answered. "Your mother. She adores you. Loves you. I can't help but wonder what that feels like."

"Your father," Merlin started.

"My father died the day my mother did," Arthur interrupted. "He may be here physically, but his spirit is gone. All that's left is anger. And hate." There was no bitterness to his words. Just acceptance. Arthur had felt that way for a very long time.

"Your father loves you," Merlin argued.

"Perhaps," Arthur murmured.

"Arthur," Merlin said quietly. "What is this all about? Why did you bring us here?"

"I feel like I've failed her, Merlin."

"Failed her? How could you have possibly failed her?"

"I stopped thinking about her," Arthur said harshly. "I stopped dreaming about her."

"That doesn't mean you failed her," Merlin told him gently, unsure of what to do.

"What do you know about it, Merlin?" Arthur snapped.

"I know what it feels like to miss a parent," Merlin told him quietly. "I know what it's like to feel incomplete."

"Your father?" Arthur asked, raising his head to look at Merlin in a new light.

"Gone before I was born," Merlin replied.

"How did he die?" Arthur questioned. "In the Purge? Did he die fighting against magic?"

"No," Merlin said, attempting to keep his voice steady. "He just left."

"Left?"

"Yes, sire. Left. As in, one morning he was there and the next he wasn't."

"I never knew," Arthur said softly.

"You never asked."

Arthur was silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. Merlin wasn't sure what was happening between them, but he felt sure that it was something that would change their relationship forever. There was a reason that Arthur brought Merlin with him when it would have been so much easier for him to go alone.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur finally whispered.

"You didn't leave. My father did," Merlin said, waving his apology off.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," Merlin said softly. And he did know. Arthur wasn't good at displays of emotion on any scale other than anger. His 'sorry' was more of a general 'sorry for being a prat', but without the emotional commitment that came with a normal apology.

Arthur nodded and looked back at Ygraine's grave. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Forget that he's gone," Arthur said. "Your father. It's like you don't even care."

"I care," Merlin shrugged. "I just...I guess it's different, Arthur. My father chose to leave. Your mother didn't. I can't help feeling angry at him. I suppose that helps."

"You?" Arthur scoffed. "Angry?"

"I can get angry," Merlin said, smiling slightly.

"Right," Arthur snorted. "Name one time you let your temper get the best of you."

"I believe you have a bite mark on your hand that proves I can lose my temper," Merlin said haughtily.

"That was hardly a temper," Arthur laughed, rolling his eyes. "That was surprise."

"Fair enough," Merlin conceded, grinning raucously.

"Merlin," Arthur said, suddenly somber again. "I'm going to sit with her awhile, I think. And I'd like to be alone when I do it."

"Sure," Merlin said, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. "Take your time, sire. I'll wait for the horses."

Arthur nodded then stopped Merlin with a firm hand. "Merlin," he said seriously. "I'm warning you. If I you ever tell a soul about what went on here today I swear I'll-"

"Cut in me into pieces?" Merlin sighed, pulling away. "Rip the meat from my bones? Dip me in a boiling vat of oil?"

"Nothing quite so dramatic," Arthur sniffed. "But, you're heading in the right direction."

"Don't worry," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. "Your secret is safe with me."

Merlin turned away, heading towards the sound of neighing horses.

"Merlin?" Arthur called suddenly.

Merlin turned to face his master with a sigh, already preparing himself for whatever nastiness would come pouring from Arthur's mouth.

"Thank you," Arthur said softly.

Merlin blinked once in surprise then managed to get a hold of himself before nodding once in acknowledgement. As he turned away once more, leaving the prince to his graveside vigil, Merlin was struck by a feeling of hope and empowerment. He had never felt so strongly connected to his destiny before. It had always seemed like an unattainable thing, but now...now it felt closer than ever before. Perhaps it was the energy of the clearing, Ygraine's energy, but for the first time in a long time Merlin felt certain that Arthur truly was the Once and Future King. And Merlin...Merlin was one step closer to the moment he could finally be free.