Author's Note: I just found the first three chapters of this sitting on my laptop, so I have undertaken the task of attempting to finish it. It was written early in series 1, so please ignore anything that is inconsistent with the events of later episodes. The title of the story and its plot are subject to change/adapt to my writing whims and fancies, so I apologize in advance for any inconveniences this may cause.
When Merlin awoke, the sun had just risen, bestowing beautiful hues of orange and pink upon his belongings that were thrown haphazardly across the small room. He paused to observe the effect but for a moment before groaning loudly – tomorrow was the start of yet another festivity that King Uther of Camelot was hosting. Now, most other people would be excited about the dancing, the feasts and, of course, the sword fighting tournament that was to be held, but Merlin is undoubtedly not like 'most other people.' He is the Crown Prince Arthur's personal manservant and, being a servant of Camelot Castle, Merlin would be spending the majority of his day ensuring that it is in impeccable condition, while spending the rest catering to the Prince's every need.
Yet another excuse for showing Arthur off to the wealthy upperclassmen from the nearby towns, thought Merlin bitterly, as he changed from his nightclothes to the baggy grey pants and long-sleeved shirt that he normally donned, completing his ensemble by tying a red neckerchief around his neck. He'll be in a rut because of the pressure on him to choose a suitable wife from among the daughters of the noblemen that his father invited, making him more insufferable than usual, and if he wins the tournament – which he obviously will – he'll be strutting around with his ego so inflated that he won't be able to get back into the castle… and I will get the brunt of this in the form of insults and extra chores.
Not wanting to provoke the Prince's prattish side any earlier than necessary, Merlin hurried towards the kitchen to retrieve Arthur's breakfast and stumbled down the corridor leading to his room, surprisingly managing to wave to Gwen, his friend and fellow servant, while balancing the plate stacked with food in one hand. However, Merlin's moment of perfect coordination was short-lived when he all but fell through the door to Arthur's room, dropping the plate of food and startling the Crown Prince who was sitting at the round table in the centre of the room perusing documents that his father had given him on grain stocks.
"You idiot!" Arthur yelled, shaking his head. "You have got to be the worst manservant that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. I have half a mind to throw you in the stocks right now –"
"But then His Highness would be displeased, since he has ordered all of the servants to clean the palace today. You could appear to be favouring me, which would not be good for your reputation, Arthur," Merlin interrupted. "Goodness knows that Uther disapproves of friendship with a servant almost as much as a relationship with one because they are below your station… think of what the visiting Lords and Ladies would have to say about that!"
This was clearly the wrong thing to say; a look at Arthur's face showed that much. Merlin gulped and awaited the heated argument that was sure to follow. However, after a moment, Arthur's features were composed in a mask that betrayed no emotion.
"Speaking of the visiting Lords, Merlin," Arthur began, his voice deathly calm, "My father will not tolerate any of your typical behavior during this tournament. Your clumsiness and utter lack of respect for your superiors will bring disgrace to the Pendragon name, and my father will do more than just throw you in the stocks. He'll have your head! I expect you to perform as the other servants do – perfectly, and as expected. Do you understand?"
Never one to back down from a fight, several retorts found their way to Merlin's tongue. However, the blackness of Arthur's glare caused Merlin to swallow these retorts and, lowering his eyes as he had seen the other servants do, Merlin replied with the standard answer that was expected from servants. "Yes, sire."
"Good. Now I expect you to muck out the stables, wash my clothes and clean my armor. Once that is done and you have completed the tasks that my father has assigned you, come back here. I'll need to be dressed for bed after having you draw me a nice hot bath." With that, Arthur turned and walked out of the room, muttering something about finding his own breakfast and that Merlin had better have his armor cleaned before he gets back because he and Lancelot needed to practice for the tournament.
Well, I'm just glad he doesn't want me to spar with him again, thought Merlin, recalling how just yesterday he had ended up with a minor concussion due to Arthur hitting him in the helmet with his lance. Granted, it wasn't Arthur's fault that Merlin wasn't quick enough to block the blow, however Merlin didn't understand why he couldn't have asked one of his knights for sparring practice; they were much better trained than a manservant. Merlin removed the Prince's armor from the chair beside his bed – after Merlin's injury, the Prince hadn't had time to stop at the armory to change, but had carried the unconscious Merlin to Gaius before returning to his room later that night, worn out from practice and spending the day worrying by Merlin's bedside – and, eyes flashing gold, the door locked and rags quickly spun through the air, leaving Arthur's armor spotless and shiny enough to reflect the dim candlelight tenfold. Turning to the pile of dirty laundry, Merlin's eyes flashed gold again and, after muttering a few incomprehensible words, the clothes began to wash, dry, and fold themselves.
As Merlin was placing the newly-cleaned clothing in Arthur's closet, there was a loud knocking on the door, followed by "What on earth do you think you're doing locking me out of my own room? Let me in at once, you idiot!"
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief that he thought of locking the door – if anyone had come in and seen him using sorcery, he would be executed, regardless of it being used for such a mundane task. As he opened the door, he was greeted with the Prince's trademark smirk that caused women (and some men) to swoon, but intimidated those who knew him well.
"Hiding out so no one can see what a lousy servant you are, are you?"
Merlin glared at Arthur and, forgetting the ultimatum that he was given earlier, said exasperatedly, "You prat! I spent the entire morning serving you – "
"That is what servants do, Merlin. They serve. "
"And making sure your armor is polished and ready for your practice and cleaning your clothes and treating you like a master rather than a friend like you asked and now I'm going to go and muck out the stables because I'm sick of being treated like I'm disposable when you're in a bad mood!" And, with that, Merlin stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut, and leaving behind a very shocked Arthur Pendragon.