"Morning Sire," Merlin's shrill voice pierced into Arthur's skull at an entirely too early hour.

"Go 'way" the prince mumbled, reaching to the side of his bed in hopes of finding something to thread, ideally something disgusting that his cheery manservant would have to clean up later.

No luck, apparently his manservant had decided to clean his room properly for once. That would be like Merlin, to clean only when it would most inconvenience Arthur. Conceding defeat, Arthur rolled over and braced himself up on his elbows, only to see his manservant trying to quietly make for the door.

"Merlin"

"Yes Sire?"

"Where are you going"

"ummm… well"

"Because, if what I'm hearing outside is a training session you forgot to wake me in time for, and you also forgot to bring my breakfast, well there will be consequences."

Earlier in his carrier as Arthur's manservant, Merlin might have bothered to inquire whether Arthur was insinuating an imminent day in the stocks by that last statement, but by now he knew far better than to doubt Arthur's ire early in the morning, or not so early as the case might have been that particular morning. Indeed, Arthur noted that the boy was wearing a particularly stained shirt and faded neckerchief that he wouldn't mind being splattered with old produce.

"Sire," Merlin replied, almost laughting, although Arthur couldn't imagine at what, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, after all you are running just a wee bit late this morning, and you're not even dressed yet, and you do remember what happened the last time you tried to dress yourself don't you and you know if Camelot falls under attack by wild magical beasts or undead you'll need my advice and…"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted, remembering a particularly unpleasant training season when, forced to dress himself on account of his manservants illness (hangover was probably more like it), he had ended up dueling Sir Leon with his boots on the wrong feet.

"Yes"

"Shut up."

"Of course, sire, but you know, you really don't want Percival to have…"

"Guards," Arthur didn't bother giving any further instructions as the guards looked at his pesky manservant and promptly began to lead him down to the stocks waiting in the courtyard.

"Well I'll just be going now Arthur," he chattered as he left, "Your breakfast is down in the kitchen left of the…" At that Merlin's voice trailed off, but Arthur still yelled after him that he knew where the kitchen was.

A short time later, an obviously disgruntled prince stormed out of the dungeons past a very confused young guard and took a left, swearing that he had tested every left turn in the entire citadel, and there was simply no kitchen.

Feet pounding against the granite, Arthur made yet another left, towards the main entrance of the citadel. Looking up briefly from his mental tirade against sorcerers who hide palace kitchens and pesky manservants and was confronted with the image of one of his nights, fully clad in chain mail. Except instead of standing upright and displaying the cloak with the proud Pendragon seal this night was wobbling dangerously and seemed to have attached, of all things, a security blanket to the back of his chain mail.

Letting loose a mental groan, Arthur walked up to the knight and placed a hand underneath one arm to steady him. Unfortunately, this movement allowed him to see the pink butterfly sown onto the security blanket in question and cost the hungry and irritated prince the last of his patience.

Really, he already knew whom he would find under the helmet, but he was still incredibly displeased to find it was Gwaine, completely inebriated. Again.

"I gots 'omthin ta show ya princess," the drunk knight slurred.

Arthur raised his eyebrows in a manner that was remarkably similar to Gaius's classical reprimand and followed the wavering night down to the armory.

Gwaine was tugging his prince along at a breakneck pace now, so Arthur barely had time to notice that the kitchens were right next to the turn that led to the armory, aw well, he'd eat later. Once the duo reached their destination Gwaine pointed out a long row of boots.

"See, sire, refreshments for 'veryone"

"Wha…GWAINE," Arthur shouted as he noticed each and every boot was filled with ale.

"Whaa sire," Gwaine was really drunk

Unfortunately for the knight, Arthur was not, so he turned and gave Gwaine his most murderous gaze.

"You will be cleaning each and every one of the boots by hand, but, not until after you spend the day in the stocks. Is that understood."

Gwaine was simply spinning absentmindedly.

"And no alcohol for a week."

"Huh! That not fair Princess, 'ere 'ou 'ave some"

Ignoring his errant knight, Arthur turned and called to the guard outside the door, "Please take my dear friend here down to the stocks, and remove that ridiculous cloak, and while you are at it get me some breakfast."

"But sire, "

"NOW"

"Yes Sire."

Arthur, having finally managed to procure some breakfast and get himself into his armor correctly, strutted outside for the knights afternoon training. He was pleased to see that all of his remaining knights had made it to practice on time and in proper uniform.

Unfortunately, no sooner did the prince assume a ready stance against Elyan than did he hear a commotion in the main square.

"One minute," he murmured to Elyan through his teeth before stomping over to the stocks

"What is going on here," he demanded, the crowd parting before his voice to reveal a smirking Merlin, drunk Gwain, and a very nervous and frazzled constable standing before the stocks.

"Well sire," said a very concerned guard, "you've ordered both of these men put into the stocks"

"Yes"

"And, well sire, you see…"

"Get on with it"

"Camelot only has one pair of stocks sire"

Well, that was rather embarrassing; Arthur hadn't considered the lack of extra stocks before sending Gwaine down to the square.

"How long will it take to have a second set built then," he asked

"Several days sir"

"See that it gets done."

"Yes sire, but, what you like us to do with these two."

Arthur could see Merlin was biting his lip to avoid a gaffaw at this point and Gwaine had already started laughing, but Arthur didn't find the situation the least bit funny, he was ready to throttle both the men with his bare hands, but not until after they mucked out every horse in Camelot and cleaned every single piece of honor.

"Just tie them together."