Arthur suspected his manservant would be out when Gaius was not at his workbench. Merlin's door was left carelessly open, his stuff strewn everywhere when the prince stood surveying at the top of the stairs. The piece of armor he sought wasn't immediately visible, Arthur step in to search for it with a huff of irritation. Flinging blankets and dirty clothes away revealed nothing but dust. Arthur sat on the bed, intending to wait and give his servant a few choice words when he returned, but the warmth of the room was softening his resolve. Merlin was impossible at keeping house, but there was peace here amid the chaos, unlike the false smiles and intentions of the court. The prince stretched out on Merlin's rickety peasant bed, comforted by the mashed up pillow that smelled like hay and medicine and Merlin.
