Hey guys! I have to tell you before you read; this is one installment in a continuous storyline. The events in this episode tie into my S5 E13 rewrite and my S6 E1, so please don't read this till you've read those! Here are the links (just take out the space after www. to make them work):
S5 E13: www. /s/10568694/1/The-Diamond-of-the-Day-Part-2-Alternate-ending
S6 E1: www. /s/10577584/1/Season-6-Episode-1-No-Stone-Unturned-1-of-12
Please don't read this till you've read those! :D
Merlin pushed his head through the door and glanced around the room to see if Arthur was up.
Naturally, the king was still fast asleep, mouth hanging wide open. Merlin banged the door loudly behind him.
Arthur didn't stir. His servant brought the tray he'd been carrying down on the tabletop as noisily as he could. When this failed to wake his friend, Merlin stomped across the room to the wardrobe and slammed it open to pull out an outfit for the king to wear.
By the time he was done, Arthur still hadn't so much as shifted his position. Shaking his head with a dry grin, Merlin took his fallback extreme measure; he opened the curtains.
Light flooded the room and a beam of blinding sunlight fell directly across Arthur's face. With a loud groan, the king threw an arm over his face and clawed around for a pillow. Merlin raised his voice unnecessarily to call, "It's almost noon, sire!"
"What?" Arthur lurched upright, squinting in the sudden light. "I have to leave for the hunt!"
The wizard turned away to hide a grin. "No, it's not actually almost noon. I was just trying to get you up."
"Merlin!" Exasperated, Arthur launched his pillow across the room.
"Well, it worked, didn't it?" The younger man smirked, batting the missile aside.
With a vigorous glare, the king swung his legs off the side of the bed and got up, pausing to stretch and heave a huge yawn. "What's for breakfast?"
Merlin glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know. What are you making?"
Arthur paused, perplexed. His servant grinned hugely. "I'm joking, meat head."
"Fruitcake." The king retorted tetchily.
"No."
"What?"
"Of course I didn't bring you fruitcake for breakfast. What do you think I am, your maidservant?" As the king opened his mouth to respond, he cut him off. "Don't answer that."
Arthur heaved a sarcastic sigh. "I wasn't saying fruitcake for breakfast, I was calling you a fruitcake."
"Where on Earth did you get that one?" Merlin raised an eyebrow.
"Where did you get meat head?" His friend shot back.
"It's this wonderful thing called imagination." He grinned. "You wouldn't understand."
Arthur huffed and changed the subject. "What is for breakfast?"
"Sausages . . . and stuff." Merlin was busy brushing the ashes of last night's fire into the pan and didn't turn around to check the contents of Arthur's plate. "You can look for yourself."
The king wandered across the room to change from his night clothes into the undershirt and trousers his servant had set out for him, then made his way to the table. "Next time bring me more sausages, Merlin."
"There's half a platter of them there!" His servant complained.
"Maybe there were; you must have eaten most of them." Arthur grumbled.
"No I didn't – not this time, anyway." Merlin grinned over his shoulder. "You just have a stomach the size of a cow."
"A cow?" The king repeated indignantly, casting an involuntary glance at his stomach.
"Or a very large . . ." The wizard ran out of ideas and said the first thing that came to mind; "volcano."
"A what?" Arthur stared at him, settling into his seat at the table. "Merlin, I think you're losing it."
Brushing his hands off on his trousers, Merlin abandoned the fireplace to pour the king's wine. As was customary in royal households, the queen's quarters were separate from her husband's; Gwen dined with Arthur every other evening and a couple mornings each week, but Merlin's serving routine was nearly unaffected by the king's marriage.
"Merlin, these sausages are cold." Arthur criticized after a moment.
"What?" His servant poked one of the items in question with an ash-smeared finger. "No they aren't."
"Keep your grubby paws off my breakfast!" The king swatted his hand away indignantly. "They're cold inside."
"Well, that's not my fault." Merlin licked the sausage grease off his filthy finger, provoking a disgusted grimace from his friend. "Blame the cook. If you don't want them, I'll eat them for you," He added, reaching for the plate.
Arthur slapped his hand away again. "Just go get them heated up. And you'd better hurry, too, because you still need to get this room cleaned and polish my boots in time to get me ready for the hunt. Then after that you'll need to saddle my horse – "
"Saddle your horse, ready your weapons, pack your midday meal, and help the knights prepare themselves, too." Merlin nodded. "Yes, I know." Something occurred to him and he grinned. "But I don't have to saddle your horse; that's Kay's job now. How's he doing, by the way?"
"Better than you." Arthur smirked. "He's been working for me for hardly a fortnight and he's already better at mucking the stalls, taking care of the horses and having them ready when I want them than you ever were."
"Maybe that's because he doesn't also have to wash all your clothes after you've worn them once, clean up after you everywhere you go, scrub your floor twice a week, attend you at table three times a day, clean your sixteen pairs of boots, keep your armor and weapons in perfect condition at all times, make your bed and clean up your mess every morning, write your speeches for you – "
"Yes, thank you, Merlin." Arthur interrupted after sitting with an expression of boredom for the first part of his servant's monologue.
"And do just as much work for Gaius at the same time." Merlin was determined to have the last word.
The king rolled his eyes. "Go heat up my sausages."
A/N: Please please review! :D
