Merlin was on all fours, scrubbing the floor's on His Pratness's chamber. His knee's hurt, his hands hurt, his back hurt and it was only early morning.

Merlin had finally got to the end of the chamber. Finally.

Now, he could look forward to cleaning the stables, his boots, his clothes, his -

Bang!

The Prat himself decided to make an appearance. He barged through the door without a glance at Merlin, who was still on the floor, glaring at Arthur's boots as they stomped along the room. Each stomp leaving a speck of dirt in its wake.

"I can't believe you!" Merlin didn't bother restraining the outburst, barely remembering the last time he had complained about Arthur and his boots when he had just cleaned the floor.

Arthur just turned to him and asked patronisingly, "Can't believe what, Merlin?"

Merlin throw up his arms in defeat, grabbed the basket of dirty laundry and stormed out of the room. Leaving the bucket of dirty water and cloth in the chamber.

He was fed up with it. Arthur had been King for two years now and he was still oblivious to everything Merlin did for him. Did he ever get a "Thank you, Merlin,"? No! Of course not! He was just Merlin, the manservant - the goofy, big eared, clumsy...

"Oh! It's no use!" Merlin said, defeated. He will just have to accept that Arthur will never see him for more than that. A servant.

No, that's not true. That little voice in the back of his head. It always piped up, telling him to wait - be patient, he'll come round. He thinks of you as a friend.

"Really?", Merlin rolled his eyes and continued to talk to himself, "Would a friend make you clean their stables and wash his pants*?"

Now, if he had not been paying attention to where he was going and not ranting away to himself, he would have realised that he was nearing the steps down to lower levels of the castle. However, he was not paying attention.

"Argh!"

Merlin tipped forward as his foot met thin air. His heart leapt into his throat and he let go of the laundry basket, his arms windmilling in an attempt to keep him from falling. But it didn't work. He fell with his legs snapping out in front of him in an attempt to regain his footing. Useless attempt as he only slipped on the dropped clothes and was sent tumbling down the spiral staircase.

It felt like he hit every step. His arm, his leg, his head, his arm again were all landed on. He finally came to a halt near the bottom, various pieces of clothing landing next to him. He was lying upside-down on the stairs, his feet above his head and the limbs splayed out at awkward angles. "Ow..."

Merlin tried to sit up, only half-succeeding as his legs were drawn in and head moved to the side slightly. So he was now lying along one step. From this position he looked as far up the stairs as he could, noting the clothes that now decorated the staircase. He couldn't see the basket.

Merlin really couldn't be bothered picking them up. So, he listened for a second and hearing no noise, whispered, "Innung standan beinnan sé cawl,"

The basket came zipping up the stairs and landed beside him, while all the clothes picked themselves up and zoomed towards the basket, promptly dropping into it.

Groaning, Merlin dragged himself to his feet. The aches and pains added to the others. He'll ask Gaius for something later. Picking up the basket he continued down the steps to the washing room.

Later that day, Merlin dragged himself into the Kitchens. He had just finished polishing Arthur's armour, sharpened his sword, cleaned his boots, made his bath AND mucked out the stables.

He was exhausted.

The prospect of seeing Arthur's face again was just a twinge to his nervous system. No doubt he'll have something else for him to do before he could collapse onto his bed.

He sluggishly prepared Arthur's meal before heading up the stairs. Various fellow servant's greeted him in the corridor's but Merlin could only manage a grunt as a reply.

It felt like years before he finally reached Arthur's door and walked in - without knocking as usual. Arthur was there. At his desk. Writing a speech. Or trying to, anyway.

"Merlin!" Arthur cried out in relief.

"Yes, Sire," Merlin spat out the title. Perfect. He had another damn speech to write. He dropped the plate of food on the table with a clatter before striding over to Arthur. "Give me that!" Merlin demanded, holding his hand out.

Arthur gave it to him without hesitation. Jumping up and making his way over to his dinner. Barely noticed I was angry, Merlin noted.

It was a full four hours later before the speech was finished. Merlin's temper had steadily risen. His fist clenching on the quill tighter and tighter.

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin,"

"Idiot!"

"Merlin!"

In all honesty, Merlin was starting to hate his own name by the time the four hours was up.

Slowly he gave up with the insults and retorts. Letting Arthur rant on, while he tried to finish the speech. His empty stomach growled and bruises from his earlier adventure with the staircase were making themselves known.

Then it was finished. At last, the speech was finished. Merlin let out a triumphant sigh.

He unraveled himself from the tense position he had been sitting. Letting his muscles relax while tuning out Arthur's continued rant, who had not seemed to realise that Merlin had finished. Merlin yawned widely and shut his eyes for a second. Just for a second...

"MERLIN! Have you honestly fallen asleep?"

Merlin bolted upright. His eyes flying open. His arms snapped out in front of him as he tried to get his bearings.

And he knocked over the ink well.

All over the speech.

Merlin just stared as the jet black ink spread slowly across the parchment. His brain not quite believeing what he saw. He slowly lifted his head to see Arthur looking at him, exasperation and disbelief covering his features. When he looked as if to open his mouth (Most definitely with a "Merlin!") Merlin snapped up his hand, palm outwards and held it there in a symbol of "Quiet!".

Arthur looked shocked at this before his face contorted and he opened his mouth to shout -

"No," The calm commanding tone that came out of the warlock's mouth stubbed Arthur. Who shut his mouth quick before he realised what he was doing.

Merlin stood up slowly, ignoring his sore joints. He stared at Arthur for a second before holding his hand over the ink covered speech and saying calmly, "Bescréadian,"

The ink swirled about for a second before running back to the ink well, which rightened itself. The parchment was left clear, the only thing left was the scribbled words of that darn speech. Arthur's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

Merlin just gazed at him, judging his reaction for a second before stating in all seriousness, "I quit,"

AN: I was attacked by this idea. I needed to write it! :D

I might do a second chapter with Arthur's reaction if I get enough interest! Actually... I could get an entire story out of this. But I need interest! Ok? ;)

What do you think of it then? Please review!

Old English Spells should mean - "Put yourselves back in the basket," and "Clean,"

*I'm british! So... pants = underwear. Not trousers! :D Funny now?... no?