A.N. Heeeey this is my first time ever writing a fic and I got confused. Anyway, there will be slight romance in this, but as it's not one of the main themes, I decided to make the genres different.

I'm brand new to this and so confused.

I also forgot how Gwaine acts. Whoops.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it C:

Surprisingly, nothing had happened in Camelot for a good week or so, and things were getting duller and duller for the young King. What didn't help was that, usually, his manservant would talk aimlessly while carrying out the many chores that had been set for him. For the past week, though, there had been no talking, no back-chat, no "you're a prat" or "you're an idiot." Why? Because the boy was in Ealdor, visiting his mother as he was worrying about her health. When Arthur had heard his servant's reason for needing to leave for a week, maybe a bit longer, he couldn't exactly say "no" to him. He knew what it was like to lose a parent - no, both parents - and he knew how much it would've hurt young Merlin if the worst were to happen to her. And with that, Merlin had thanked him and set out to Ealdor.

But the King was growing tired. It was somewhat more eventful and amusing with Merlin around, and now that he was gone, the only company he had were his knights and the boy who was temporarily taking his place. Merlin's chatter was one thing. At least he could handle that. This boy's chattering? Not only did it fail to amuse Arthur, but it irritated him to the point he just wanted to fire the kid. Not that he would, though - the boy was younger than Merlin, and it was only temporary, anyway.

"Mother said that I shouldn't do anything that might upset Father because he's getting stressed out and ..." the temporary servant rambled on and on until Arthur couldn't take any more. All Arthur had asked him to do was to tell him the time. He was fairly certain that he asked that question about thirty minutes ago, and yet he still had no reply. He walked over to the window, trying to focus on other things that were happening. As he expected, nothing was. The people of Camelot were going about their daily business. Arthur tapped his foot impatiently, allowing a quiet sigh to leave his lips, although it obviously wasn't as quiet as he thought it was. The serving boy heard it and turned to face his King.

"Sire? You seem troubled." The brunette began to point out the obvious. He'd been doing that a lot since he took over Merlin's job. It's only temporary, Arthur kept telling himself. He glanced in the boy's direction, and as if it was too much for him to handle, the servant shifted and looked down at the floor, obviously embarrassed to have his King watching him. Arthur shook his head.

"Not quite. Just..." he paused and looked back at the window. His knights were returning. He'd sent them out to make sure the smaller villages were okay, and to be on the safe side he sent them out in groups of three. "You're dismissed from your duties today... " he continued, only to realise he didn't even know the boy's name. Silence lingered in the room until the boy realised he had to give his name.

"Durward, Sire." The boy replied sheepishly. He didn't raise his head. Instead he fiddled with a button on his shirt that was coming loose. He'd probably ask his mother to sew it back up for him when he returned home. He needs new attire in general by the looks of it, Arthur noticed; Durward's clothing wasn't really... well looked after. His maroon-colored tunic, although it looked brand new, already had holes in it, and there was a huge tear at the neck where the button had been (the boy fiddled with it so much in three seconds that when he was being forceful, it actually ripped the rest of the fabric). His pants were a dark green – slightly darker than the Phthalo green, though it looked roughly the same – but there were brown spots all over them from where he'd been near the muddy areas (or possibly from mucking out the horses, but Arthur was hoping it was the former), and his boots… Arthur frowned. Was he wearing odd boots? He was pretty certain he was, in fact, wearing two completely different boots, neither of which were even slightly the same shade of brown, and while one was just a plain old boot, the other had a dirty lace that hadn't been tied up hanging down from the top of it. At least Merlin's clothes are decent enough and he had slight fashion sense, which, now that Arthur was thinking about it, was actually slightly true. Merlin tended to alternate between his usual red and blue combination – his neckerchief being red, his shirt being blue, or his shirt being red and his neckerchief being blue, or maybe both red or both blue… well, he definitely knew how to dress himself better than Durward did. The young King paused. Surely he didn't just compliment the servant who was completely useless to him. Except he did. Damn. He put his hand to his forehead and continued to look out the window. It's a good thing I didn't say that out loud.

As it turned out, his knights weren't returning at all. Only a single horse stormed through the gates to the kingdom. No one followed. This worried Arthur. He thought they would've returned in their groups. To see a single knight return without the rest of his group didn't seem to be a good thing and although Arthur couldn't see every detail, judging by the look on the knight's face as he got off the horse, it was worse than he thought it would be. What made it worse was that the knight who had returned was one the knights he'd originally sent to check on Ealdor: Sir Gwaine. He wasn't laughing or making a fool of himself – the look of despair and determination was plastered all over his face.

Which meant something had happened in Ealdor. Something big. Something Arthur would probably have to deal with himself.

Arthur had completely forgotten that there was someone else in the room, and only remembered when he heard metal hitting the floor. The King spun quickly to see what was happening, fearing that someone had intruded on him, only to realise it was Durward dropping a plate. With a frustrated huff, Arthur continued where he left off:

"Durward, you are dismissed for today. I have something I must attend to." He casually slipped his jacket on, looking calm and collected despite being far from it. The boy bowed his head again, set the plate back on the drawer and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him on the way out. There really was no point in the door being closed, though, since it was forced open again within a matter of minutes by the knight who had urgent news that Arthur would probably dislike.

The news was far worse than he feared.

"Sire, there's been an incident in Ealdor, and I'm pretty sure you won't like it." He sounded breathless. Odds are, he ran a bit too quickly up those steps to reach Arthur. His face was still dead serious. Arthur didn't think Gwaine would be the type of man who cried, but looking closer, it was almost as if he was going to. But the tears were obviously being held back, and pretty well, too.

"I had a feeling that was the case. Where are Sirs Percival and Elyan? I thought you set out with them." Arthur questioned. There'd better have been a good reason why Sir Gwaine had traveled alone. Or a good reason that would turn out bad.

"They're still in Ealdor, looking after Merlin's mother and guarding the village," was the answer he got, and it was said a bit too quickly for his liking. It just added to his worry. Hunith? Why would they need to look after her if Merlin was already there with her? As if reading his mind, Gwaine carried on speaking:

"Sire, it's… it's Merlin. That's why they're looking after her. You need to send more knights or send a few guards to Ealdor." He suggested. There was a slight pause. "Sorry, Sire, I mean –"

"What's happened to Merlin?"

Another pause. The silence was awkward between them and filled every inch of the room. It didn't look like Gwaine wanted to say anything else on the matter.

"Sir Gwaine, you will tell me what's happened. Please. What's happened to Merlin?" the King continued tapping his foot as he did earlier, only at a faster pace.

"He's… He's dead, sire."