A/N: Yes, yes... another diversion. Thought of this whilst writing the next chapter of "Perils" in my head and felt the need to put it to the digital paper.
This will be a series of little tales of the (mainly) non-magical goings-on in Camelot and will likely focus on Merlin and Arthur's bromance. I anticipate several stories about Merlin settling into his role as servant (so, season 1 and 2 stuff).

Updates will be haphazard.


"Alright, Merlin, time to make yourself useful," Arthur turned from the mirror, grabbed something from his bedside set of drawers, and thrust it into his servant's unexpecting hands.

"What's this, something you want polished?" Merlin tugged the leather sheath off to reveal a straight razor, entirely too long to be sensible in his opinion.

"I should be able to rely on you to give me a shave, don't you think? Though I warn you: cut my nose off and father will have you executed." The prince dropped into a chair, leaning back and looking a challenge toward his manservant.

On the one hand, Merlin was elated that Arthur seemed to trust him more after they had faced the dragon together- on the other hand, he had no idea how to shave. Still, no matter, he had seen Gaius shave a patient's head once- sort of, from a distance... It couldn't be that hard, right? If all else failed he could just knock Arthur out and pretend the whole thing never happened.

"Any day now, Merlin."

"Of course; right away, Sire," Merlin rushed to collect the water basin and cloth from the washing stand, looking about with a touch of panic. There was something else he needed... soap? It would have to do.

Arthur appeared to be relaxing, still reclined and having closed his eyes. Merlin set down his burdens and soaked the cloth before dabbing at the prince's face.

"No need to be so dainty, Merlin- though it would have been nice if you'd warmed the water first," the blond grumbled, still leaving his eyes closed.

"Hrm," the servant hummed absently, eyes focused on the razor as it gleamed in the early morning light. Clutching the soap in his left, he reached a trembling right hand out toward the blade. You can do this, come on, just a little shave...

His internal encouragement must have gone on a bit longer than he thought as Arthur's surly voice interrupted.

"What's taking so long-" blue eyes fell upon Merlin, his stance screaming uncertainty, and a smirk grew, "Didn't your father ever teach you how to shave, Merlin?"

The automatic snarky reply of "Didn't yours?" was buried in the rush of memory; Balinor falling back into his arms speaking final words of advice before passing from the world forever... He forcibly turned his mind from that path, expression going blank before he faced away from his master and moved toward the door without thinking. A choked-off "no" was the only response he could muster.

Arthur stared at the younger man in confusion, wondering what had caused such a reaction.

"That's the same with my father; I never knew him, and my mother's barely spoken of him."

The royal's face fell, remembering Merlin's words from their discussion some six weeks past.
"Merlin, I didn't mean-"

"No, no... it's fine."

Arthur ignored the sound of sniffling and the way Merlin wouldn't look at him, still poised in front of the door.

"I'm just going to... do your laundry."

He snatched up the half-full basket and dashed out before the prince could make any further attempt at apology.


The next morning found Merlin waking Arthur and seating him at the table, shaving implements all laid out and ready.

"Merlin..."

"How am I supposed to shave you if you keep flapping your jaws? Just hold still."

And that was the last either said anything on the matter.