Author's Note: So I just discovered Merlin and the slash is way too obvious not to write a fic about. So please enjoy and know that there WILL be more coming if it kills me. REVIEW!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Merlin or the Arthurian myths, if I did, there would be some hardcore snogging on the show ;)

Chapter One

It was raining. Actually it was one of those foggy days that threatens rain, but doesn't ever make good on its promise; a day where you just want to crawl back into bed and sleep until tomorrow. And Merlin was considering doing just that as he cracked open a single dry eye.

However, he knew that his royal highness would not be happy with him if he was late, or later than usual.

Sluggishly, Merlin got out of bed and dressed himself in his usual mundane attire and rubbed his eyes.

Bloody hell, I must be getting sick. He thought to himself, when he plopped down in on the bench to eat the small bit of porridge Gaius had prepared for him.

"You look like death warmed over Merlin." The old man said warmly. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No Gaius, I'm fine." Merlin managed to croak out, which sealed his fate, and Merlin ended up having to choke down a disgusting elixir that made him feel nothing if not a stomach ache on top of everything else.

Merlin then arrived at the prince's bedchamber, he stopped himself halfway through opening the door, and stepped back to knock.

After waiting a few seconds he opened the door only to find his majesty still fast asleep underneath mountains of down duvets and fluffy pillows.

The young warlock had only a moment to feel envious, and another moment to enjoy the sight of the attractive male before Arthur felt the presence of another being in the room with him.

"Oi, I feel ill." Were the first words out of the crowned prince's mouth. Then he clapped both hands over his face and muttered something about a servant shouldn't wake his master. Especially on such a horrid day, but Merlin wasn't really paying any mind to Arthur's ramblings.

Arthur slowly stood up and stretched his morning fatigue away, while Merlin dutifully began a half-hearted tidying of the room.

"I feel like I drank the castle out of ale." Arthur stated.

"Did you?" Merlin questioned despite knowing the answer. He would have been around if Arthur decided to get sloshed.

"Of course not." The young Pendragon snapped. "I was simply stating that's what I felt like." He added under his breath. "Idiot."

Merlin rolled his eyes as he faced his destiny and said very respectfully, though he inwardly cursed Arthur. "Can I fetch you anything my Lord? Perhaps Gaius can remedy your ailments."

Secretly Merlin wished that Arthur would suffer the same medicine that he had, but Arthur brushed him off, and said that it was nothing that an extra hour of sleep couldn't cure, and that he would be down to fetch his horse for a hunt when he felt fit to do so.

Arthur wanted to ask if he was actually planning on hunting even though the weather was dreadful, but Arthur would just pull the "You really don't know anything" face and he was SO not in the mood for that.

He was also in no mood to be mucking out stinky stables and preparing the royal steed for the hunt. But it wasn't like he had much of a choice and so Merlin bowed his head to his master and replied to his orders with, "Yes sire." and turned to leave to fulfill his duties.

Merlin was mad. He hadn't woken up in the best dispositions, and obviously Arthur hadn't either. And he was not happy to have been treated so curtly, sure Arthur had his moments of pigheadedness, but lately Merlin felt that the two of them had grown closer.

He felt that he could actually refer to Arthur as a friend, and maybe technically Arthur couldn't call him a friend based on propriety, but he had. And in those rare moments Merlin felt like he could fly.

But then there were the moments like this, when Arthur was acting the part of royal pain in the arse, and nothing made Merlin angrier than seeing his friend revert back to prat mode.

The stables were extra disgusting that morning. He wished he could go back in time to tell him from yesterday to do a thorough cleaning, so that present him didn't have to suffer the consequences of his laziness.

However, there was no way he could think of to do that, and there was also no way he could get away with a half-arsed job at mucking the stables. Not with the mood the prince was in, and especially not with the atrocious smell that was emitting from the barn.

When Merlin realized that staring at the mess wasn't going to get his job done any sooner he started in on the mucking.

A half an hour later Merlin was feeling worse than he had before and the stable was only looking worse. To make matters more dismal, a slight, but bitter drizzle had begun over Camelot. This was turning out to be one lovely day.

Of course, there was one thing Merlin could think of to make things a bit easier on him and with the abysmal weather, not many people would be out and about near the stables, which was a minimal risk for him.

Keeping a shovel in hand for show, Merlin allowed the magic to radiate from within. With a keen eye on the watch for those who might be spying, Merlin watched as his job just became that much easier.

*~*

Arthur was wrong, an hour did not even come close to helping, in fact, it may have made things worse, because on top of his sudden illness, he now felt wearied from oversleeping.

His mussed up bed looked all too comfortable, but he couldn't show weakness for a silly cold, so he sucked it up and began to dress himself for the hunt.

Arthur couldn't help but hope that the rain would start soon so that the hunt would be called off early, then he could go back to lazing about in his chambers, and order Merlin around a bit, since that always put him in a good mood.

Arthur looked menacingly at the plate of food that had been left in his room, and decided that eating it would not be a good decision and instead he headed down to the stables for his mount, which, hopefully, Merlin had prepared adequately.

Unfortunately, when he got down to the stables, Arthur got a different sight than he was hoping for.

His manservant was indeed preparing his horse. He was doing a good job too; the shovel and the bales of hay were doing well too.

Arthur wasn't really sure of what he was seeing, and for a moment he considered that he was simply sicker than he thought, and he should go back to bed.

But when the other boy looked up to see Arthur standing there, he dropped everything, including the phantom shovel.

"Prince Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed. "I-I…"

Arthur was instantly furious. "You what? You can explain to me what the hell is going on here?"

Arthur turned his back on the boy who he thought he could trust.

"I wanted to tell you, I just… I couldn't… I didn't want you to think less of me." Merlin tried to explain but failed.

"You're a sorcerer." Arthur stated.

The young prince turned back to Merlin, but couldn't bring himself to look him in the face.

"You will tell my father that I am ill, and that I cannot participate today."

As Arthur turned to leave he heard Merlin's soft voice behind him say, "What are you going to do to me?"

Arthur didn't spare him an answer and walked briskly back to his chambers.

What was he going to do to Merlin?