A/N: I was kind of bored, and I know it's been awhile since I've done anything for this story, although I marked it complete. And it is actually, I just happened to decide to continue with this thing. (Slight AU and stand alone, with a chance of a part 2.)

More serious than the previous.


"King of Anything"

You sound so innocent, all full of good intent

You swear you know best


Most of the time, Arthur had to wonder just what caused Merlin to be so enchanting. It was an odd sort of feeling—being next to his friend—as he watched the bumbling (although, he doesn't really mean this) idiot chug through his chores. He could remember the first time he met the neckerchief wearing boy, letting nostalgia wash over his veins. Yes, he still didn't understand him; how could he? Arthur knew that Merlin didn't like to let on just how special he was. Just how special though, is what mystified the future king.

There were several things that he was positive of though. Merlin couldn't cook. Merlin couldn't clean without being ushered to do so, the thought of an undeserved break beckoning him. It was impossible for Merlin to run a bath without making the water too cold or completely scalding. These imperfection, as Arthur liked to call them, should have made him fire the boy ages ago. And yet, he felt that doing so would be an awful mistake. Maybe even life threatening, though Arthur wouldn't admit this. And as much as he hates to think about it, there were more pros outweighing the cons to the manservant.

Yes, Merlin was enchanting. He had this ethereal glow around him sometimes—it almost seemed as if he lived and breathed magic! The blond-haired prince narrowed his eyes at this thought, which could make Merlin's life hell if voiced. But sometimes, he just couldn't help it. This feeling akin to friendship just seemed natural. While they met on bitter terms (laughable, in Arthur's imagination), as soon as the boy saved his life, Arthur somehow knew that he'd find a way to stick around. Merlin was just like the sun really: he was warm like the light that the star gave them, but would burn all those that crossed him and his friends. Arthur feared though, that if he didn't look long enough—if he ever stopped and ignored the other boy—just like the sun, he would vanish, and someone would take his place, just like the moon.

He was a horrible manservant, but a great friend; sometimes, Arthur swore he was what a good king should strive to be. Although, if that king should ever be like Merlin, then it'd be best if he would abandon clumsy package that comes with it. A king though. Did Arthur just compare Merlin to a good king? Fondness was getting the best of him, he thought, and the Once and Future King looked down at the courtyard from his room in the castle. What made—no, who made—Merlin of all people a king of anything? That was why Arthur had made him leave, to get rid of him before he could really end up ruling Camelot. Wouldn't that have been a sorry thing to see?

Why was he thinking of Merlin anyway? He was gone, gone with the wind. He remembered what happened, closing his eyes tired. He shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have told Merlin to get lost. Arthur was just so afraid, so afraid to think that maybe his subject wouldn't want him as king, no, instead they'd want Merlin on the throne. He's seen the way people looked at Merlin, how some seemed so happy to see the man. It was as if they were satisfied to see someone who could guide their new king and practically take over himself given the chance. He glanced at the door as it slammed open, hitting the drawer right next to it.

Morgana stepped into the room. She didn't look mad, she showed no emotion as she stared at Arthur. They could both tell that his mind was on a certain someone, whose ears were bulbous and his eyes kind. Morgana shifted in place for a bit, saying with maybe just a bit of comfort and a bit of anger in her voice, "You're thinking of him, aren't you?"

"No Morgana, I stopped a while ago."

"Then start again."

And maybe, that's just what he needed to hear. He smiled at his sister—it was strange to feel that word on his lips, to know that the other person in the room was indeed a sibling—and walked out. He stopped just as he passed the door, looking back for just a second. "Just what will I say?"

"Wing it, at least it won't give you a chance to be more arrogant than you usually are," she replied, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. She stepped forwards, and patted his arm. A smirk appeared on her face as she pushed him forwards, yelling somewhere along the lines to get on with it and apologize. A good push in the right direction is just what Arthur needed.

But would Merlin accept the apology coming towards him? He really didn't know. So maybe this King of Anything and Everything in Camelot was a tiny bit afraid, just a tiny bit of this friend who could be a better king that he ever is and will be.


But you expect me to, jump off on board with you

And right off into your delusional sunset.