I have decided to take a different direction with the story. Hopefully it will turn out for the best.

This is where I begin to finally develop the story further, delving away from the series, but not entirely, as it is important for me to follow it.

I hope you like this chapter, it is all about Arthur!


Ch.3 Arthur's Faux Pas

"Lock it like this, but you have to make sure it is actually locked." The prince explained to Merlin one afternoon.

The boy had been serving as Arthur's servant for almost three weeks now. The prince was currently attempting the impossible task of teaching the boy the simple process of dressing him with his armor. It was unbelievable the amount of time being wasted by this effortless yet important task. But Merlin on the other hand, found entertainment when he asked the young man numerous times to explain him how it was properly done, because Arthur, he continued to discover, was easily irritated.

The third time around, Arthur decided to help Merlin by putting the armor on him. That way, he thought, the dim-witted servant might get a better idea.

"I'm not showing you again, Merlin, you better be paying attention." The threat in his voice harsher than it should, but his quota patience was beginning to extinguish. It didn't help that his idea had not turned out well, the armor was too big on Merlin, and the boy had trouble maintaining balance.

"Why do you have to be so skinny Merlin? Two of you would easily accommodate inside of this."

Merlin rolled his eyes, the prince behind him, unable to witness. "Not all of us are as big, sire."

"Well, my knights are. These armors aren't custom made you know."

"Perhaps, but you are bigger and taller than me."

"I'm only taller by a few centimeters," he noted, goaded by the remark of such trivial fact.

But that fact was particularly odd. Merlin and Arthur were about the same height, Arthur being slightly taller than Merlin. The great difference rested on Arthur's muscular built, the contrast between Merlin's gangly figure and the prince's build was too vast. Arthur briefly wondered if the boy fed himself at all. He didn't care of course, his concern simply based on the efficiency from the servant. It wouldn't help the clumsiness of the boy as it was.

"The helmet," he continued to explain the importance of the armor after being interrupted by Merlin's constant questioning," is one of the most important parts. You see, it protects my face and head. You have to be absolutely certain it has no damage, no cracks. Otherwise I will be down at the first blow."

Merlin chuckled.

That action didn't really appease the prince a single bit. "Why Merlin, do you find such entertainment at the possibility of my harm?" He wasn't really asking for an answer, because why should he care either way? But he couldn't find it in him to stop Merlin when he attempted one.

"I don't," he began, sheepishly. "It's just..." he struggled, trying to find the words that would explain himself without sounding like the idiot the prince thought he was, "I can't really imagine you fighting, I see you and you're dangerous, but the thought of actually seeing you get hurt, I can't imagine."

"Why is that?" Arthur asked, ignoring the open opportunity to scold Merlin's failed expertise on the matter.

Merlin chuckled again, his playful blue eyes dancing back and forth between the prince at his side and the empty space in front. "Because you're a royal pain, and everything that implies with that," he said outright, fearless of the outcome his insolence might bring.

The prince laughed without humor, arching an eyebrow. Something about Merlin bothered him with such influence that sometimes it blinded him. Arthur was not entirely sure why, but even though he thought Merlin was a complete hypocrite, he was beginning to understand that he could not find it in himself to stay or be angry at him for long periods of times. Not even when he publicly defied him those two times. Arthur of course didn't understand why, he just understood he was unable. He was far from acknowledging this to himself, far from deciphering any ramifications, his current elaborations simply coming and going, like the nippy wind that filled his chambers that morning. He remembered an unconscious yearning, a yearning he was unaware of what it could perhaps be.

The tone in his chambers had come down, the light teasing gone. Arthur now quiet, worked with purpose, trying to show Merlin the process of dressing him again. This time, the armor on Arthur, as it was evidently a failed idea putting it on Merlin. Frustration was beginning to overwhelm him, but his face maintained motionless, here and there his eyes shifted in position. Sometimes he would simply stare into space, not really paying attention to anything, and when Merlin was about to make a mistake, he would penetrate his gaze onto him, intimidating the boy. This pleased him.

The prince had far more important thoughts to attend to, but with Merlin being there, it was easy to focus on him momentarily. With all honesty, he was quite oblivious to what it was that bothered him. Why he felt disconcerted at the prospect of the manservant, who was beginning to deem himself useless. Something nagged in his head, throbbed questions that couldn't allow himself to voice freely, simply because he was not sure what and how to ask. He tried voicing them in his head, while Merlin worked, for once, diligently and without asking ten questions at a time.

First things first, he thought, attempting to organize his muddled thoughts. He began with what appeared the easiest topic, but contradictory to what he believed, it was one of the most important. Why did Merlin save his life? He meant of course, why would he? Hadn't the boy laughed at the idea of seeing him die that day at practice? Did the fact that he was the prince have any inclination or intent? But of course it does! He thought, he saved the prince of Camelot, not just another peasant.

He sighed heavily, infuriated by the thought -Merlin too concentrated with his own work to notice the minuscule change.

"Merlin?" He asked, making himself serene.

"Yes, sire?"

"Why did you..." but he couldn't, asking him would only give the boy the advantage to elaborate a well crafted story, "come to Camelot?" he finished with that question instead, appearing blasé.

"Oh um, I came here to aide Gaius, make things easier for him." The question surprised him, because the short pause indicated to him the prince wanted to ask something else.

"Poor man," he said.

"Yes," Merlin agreed.

"I mean to be stuck with you as an aide, I must say I pity him." The burlesque implication didn't amuse him a single bit, but he needed to deviate the topic from what he intended to really ask.

"I believe your opinion differs with his, sire." Even when Merlin wished he could say what his mind screamed to the prince, it was for Gaius that he kept his mouth shut and elaborated a more respectful alternative instead.

"I find that rather difficult to believe, Merlin," the prince continued to tease, a little more interested now that Merlin seemed to be upset by his insinuations.

Merlin tried with all his might to stop himself from telling the prince to mind his own business. He might also add and tell him that why should he care about the opinion of such an arrogant ass.

He would have, but right about the time when he was to pronounce the first syllable of his piece-of-mind monologue, a light tap at the door stopped him short.

"Who is it?," Arthur asked.

The sound was somewhat muffled by the thick barrier the doors formed. "I was simply sent to inform you the king awaits for you, sire." The unknown voice of a man informed him.

"Thank you," he replied -to Merlin's surprise- and dismissed the man.

"Merlin I have to go meet my father. Make sure you have my armor clean and shinny by the time I come back, I might need it in the morning."

Merlin smiled mischievously. "Sure, but would you mind if I do it in my chambers? I wouldn't want to ruin your floors."

Arthur stared, dumbfounded. "Sure...I.. Yes that's where you will clean my belongings from now on, unless I am to supervise your work." This was the first sign of competence from the boy, but he didn't want to acknowledge such. Arthur didn't want to allow the boy to harbor any hope that this was outstanding thinking on his part, because that was Merlin's responsibility.

"Who will supervise you?" the boy mumbled unintelligible.

"What's that?" Arthur asked.

"I said I'll be in my chambers if you need anything sire."

"Right, go on then. Spotless, Merlin, I expect to see my reflection when you bring the armor back."

"Yes sire." And with that, a struggling Merlin carried the prince's armor into his chamber. Arthur felt the strange urge to help the boy carry the heavy armor, but decided against it. Since when did he help servants do their work? Where were the servants when he needed a helping hand with more important tasks?

Arthur left his chambers, Merlin now but forgotten in his mind, though he did keep him in check, trying to think of new jobs for him, of ways for him to be more efficient, more reliable, if he could somehow manage to trust him.

Inside the throne room, his father waited silently, his lips curved upwardly in a smile.

"Son," he greeted Arthur.

"You asked to see me father?"

"Yes, we need to discuss the coming sword tournament. I assume you will want to participate?" He was unable to conceal the pride he felt at the thought of his son becoming victorious, finally of legal age to officially enter the tournament.

"It would be an honor, sire." His own pride was almost tangible, confidence clouding around him like a morning fog.

The king signaled his son to take a sit on his side.

"Very well then. You will need to practice diligently; the tournament begins in a fortnight. Knights from around and afar will begin to arrive Camelot soon, and it would be best if all your trainings were done periodically, not allowing them to see you. It would be an unjust advantage if it happened. When the tournament begins, it will be not as easily to tell who will stand, therefore that does not concern me. Make sure your armor is properly kept, I don't want you harmed by a simple mistake. Have that boy, what's his name?"-

It was unimportant for the king to know the servant's name, and was about to continue with his very important lecture to Arthur when he answered his question instinctively, "Merlin."

"Merlin," the king repeated, "have him clean and polish your armor after every combat, inspect it yourself and make sure to teach him. You can't expect him to know if you don't teach the boy." This last implication was meant as a slight reprimand on the prince's temper. It didn't help that Arthur was beginning to acknowledge the fact.

"Yes father, I will look up on that matter. Anything else you wish to tell me?"

"We will have a council meeting in a few days where we will discuss this further. As for know, why don't you join me for an early supper?"

"I rather go practice a few hours with my knights, if that is alright with you. I can have my dinner in my chambers later today."

"That is fine by me," the king said, praising the initiative and dedication of his son.

" Very well then. Sir," he bowed to the king and retired from the room.

But Arthur didn't have his head set on training, which was unusual as the prince always enjoyed the hours of exercise.

He decided to horse ride for those hours instead. Alone. Clear his mind off the sudden uncertainty he felt.

At the stables, one of the knights had a horse prepared for him.

"Sire, are you sure you want to go by yourself? It's dangerous for you to take such risks."

"Don't worry about me Leon, I will not be far. I should stay but a couple of hours out, if for some reason I am not back by such time, come and search for me."

It was the insignificant actions and words from those who surrounded him that made the prince wonder. He wondered to what extent it was that the people took for granted his position, going as far as to give up their lives for his own, and to what extent it was something else. Arthur couldn't put past him that there was people, maybe even in the castle, with the malevolence to take advantage and mask said servitude for greater intentions.

Arthur began by ascending the fields on the northern plain of the kingdom. It was difficult for him to believe that just a couple of weeks ago the scorching sun burned him, the armor leaving marks where it touched his unprotected skin. Vegetation this time of year had become scarce and it was conveniently rare the times he found a farmer lingering around the dead crops. And even though it was evident the fields were barren, he knew the kingdom would be fine in the coming winter. The year round work of the farmers had given fruitful results, more than enough to have a prosperous season. He unconsciously checked in his mind to remind his father that perhaps they would be able to aid the nearby towns, whose harvests had not been as healthy.

Despite the slight distraction, he was still unable to clear his mind, as it was the point of his sudden trip. It was always in times that he felt like this that he rode alone, often without direction, without reason. The worst was that he couldn't identify what feeling like this could possibly represent because he felt well, as far as he could physically denote. Worst yet, was knowing he felt something, and the confusion simply wrapped his mind in intricate twists and turns, a time warp leaving him exactly where he had begun. It was always the same, always predictable. The nostalgia of the repetitiveness made him sigh, almost contentedly, because as sick as it could be, this was the only aspect of himself he did not take for granted. Every other aspect and behavior was mastered, he needed to live up to the persona his father, knights, Morgana, the people had come to build for himself.

Great expectations, he thought.

It was in times like this that he longed for someone, but it was unclear to him in what terms did he longed for that someone. It was in times like this that the alienation he felt was such that he could abandon everything, leave behind everyone and start anew. To simply continue going, far where no one knew he was the prince of Camelot, the future king. But responsibility would guilt him back into the path he knew too well.

Arthur hadn't felt the need to run away recently, besides this was more out of impulse than from repressed depression. It was all the more maddening. Changes recently had not been of importance or relevance. There were the petty and the unimportant however, but he could not dream to attribute his emotional state to any of that. It was most absurd.

The air began to feel colder as he forced his horse to gallop faster, the wind rasping at his cheeks, reddening them. The prince hadn't noticed he was way further than he intended to go but the sky was clear and the sun had not set. It probably would by the time he got to Camelot, already the knights in search for him.

How exasperating, he thought about their responsibility, their sole purpose at the moment to take care of him, make sure nothing would happen. Even if he appreciated them, he could not fathom being in any of their shoes, not even Leon, the closest he was to any of his knights, the closest he had ever dared to call anyone a friend. Yet, he could not recall any important details about the man other than he was a loyal man, one of his best knights, and his interest for a particular Lady he had not wished to reveal her name. He knew more about the poor excuse of a manservant he had just met than the man he was set to fight battles with.

Disgust began to invade him. The same disgust he felt back in his chambers. A sense of hatred rummaged inside of him, desperately wanting to have a way out, making him shake with the anger. Arthur got off his horse abruptly, punching the air instinctively as the anger intensified. He walked in circles, fists shut tight hitting at his sides, trying to discharge the immeasurable amount of energy emanating from their concealment.

Suddenly he wished he had opted to stay and train instead. Although the anomaly in his anger disturbed him because as much as he wished he could hit anything, it would not relieve him from what he felt. And as he realized this, the air began to suffocate him, lungs began to fail him, the rhythm of his palpitations increased by more than he could sustain. The welled up, the surge of confusion and anxiety was too deep in him to allow understanding.

He could not explain any of it and it terrified him.

And it was enough for the time being. The more he allowed these sentiments to fill him, the more unanswered questions that arose.

He decided heading back now, without relief, not a single of his preoccupations explained.

The ride back was not as long as he had thought. The sun was beginning to set when the plains began to appear in sight view. The sky formed the most beautiful shades of red and pink, the gathered clouds shadowing around the sky, prominently announcing a storm for the coming days. He could see that some of the knights were already in search for him, that he had anticipated. He only let knights of his own trust to know about his mystery trips however, no need to worry his father -and he was never in the mood for any of his lectures about what risking his life meant, thank you very much.

It might be ungratefulness on his part, but he decided that perhaps it was not in anyone's hands to save him. Whatever would happen, well, it simply would. Hadn't numerous men died while having the protection of others? Hadn't the king's own father been murdered while being protected by the strongest of guards? Of course his father would counteract by declaring that it didn't help his cause if he wondered around unprotected. But he was confident that when his time would come, he would be prepared and for some odd reason, he could sense that it would not be as soon as others might anticipate or wish.

"My Lord," Leon greeted him as he approached.

"Leon," he acknowledged, " I am sorry for taking longer than I had said."

"We had barely started, you're only a few minutes delayed."

"Very well then. Has my father asked for me?"

"No sire, he is quite busy with the arrangements for the council meeting. I suspect if he decides to see you later today at all, it would be right before he retires to his chambers." The way in which he phrased the sentence was peculiar, it sounded off the usual tone of the man.

"Why is that?" Arthur was not nearly concerned, simply curious.

"Because... I. I'm sorry I wasn't eavesdropping I swear," his gaze dropped to the ground in shame.

"Never mind that, continue," the prince encouraged.

"I heard that he would inform you about the visit of Lady Sophia and her father to witness the tournament. They will arrive in a few days."

"There's more," Arthur pronounced accusingly, because why would this information be the cause of shame on his part? Probably even the servants already knew this.

"Yes," Leon agreed guiltily, "I heard the council... advice your father that it was perhaps time you began to court some of the Ladies from the neighboring kingdoms. That it would be very beneficial if you and the Lady Sophia in particular could develop a friendship, and perhaps turn it into something more -meaningful in the near future."

"What did my father had to say about this?" The prince asked, his tone undecipherable.

"Your majesty agreed that if it could be Lady Sophia you could," he struggled for the right word, "become close with, that it would mean the beginning of Camelot and Garlot to form a more reaffirming alliance." The shame in Leon was making him perspire. This kind of stress was very different than what a knight of Camelot was accustomed to. To think he had lowered himself into gossiping what was clearly none of his business.

Arthur stared into space, unable to find words that would dismiss the uncomfortable man.

"Thank you," he finally said after a few moments, "I am grateful for your loyalty. You did good to inform me, I wouldn't know what to say to my father after such revelation. I still don't know, but I will not be taken aback when he tells me later tonight, if that's what he decides."

"Sire," he bowed, requesting to be allowed to retire.

Arthur nodded, conceding his request.


Back in his chambers, the prince walked around aimlessly, the stress within compressed into small and separated quantities, like the contents of the same substance in different vials he might find in Gaius' chambers.

And now Merlin's too, his mind corrected him.

It had been hours since the last time he heard from his manservant. He appreciated the alone time and being free of his unusually high spirited and inconsequential banter, but he did have matters that needed to be taken care of. Like his dinner for example, surely someone must have informed him that he had not eaten since morning. What about his armor? Didn't the boy believe to have to check in with him to be told if it was acceptable?

Right then, the door opened abruptly, sending the prince into a jolt.

"Don't you know how to knock, Merlin?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but you see, my hands are busy with your dinner, sire," he said, outraged by the lack of the prince's understanding. How could he be so intolerable?

Arthur's mood shifted at the sight of his dinner. Eating was an enjoyable part of his day. He almost always excused himself to do so in private as his father's proper talk usually made him lose his appetite.

"Let's see, what do we have here?" He asked intrigued.

"Chicken, beans, and vegetables and they also sent a bottle of this." He pointed at a green bottle without markings, but the prince seemed to know what it could possibly contain, as his lips twitched into a smile at the sight of it.

"Ipocrase," he said appreciatively, oblivious to the boy's lack of interest and knowledge.

"Right, would you like me to serve you?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Arthur took a sit at the head of the small rectangular table a few meters away from his bed.

Merlin placed the tray with food in front of him -surprised by the prince's politeness-, taking the individual plates and placing them accordingly, and proceeding to pour some of the liquor into a small goblet on the table.

Arthur concentrated on his food, surprisingly still hot, unlike most nights Merlin served him in his chambers, where he took so long that by the time he arrived with dinner it was already less the warm. This time he ate without thinking about anything, solely paying attention to the texture and taste of his food. He would often take long sips from his goblet, asking Merlin to pour some more when he felt it was too empty. When he was finally finished, he relaxed in his chair, slumping into it, a feeling of satisfaction overcoming him.

"That was delicious," he let out with a heavy exhale, but he knew that it had more to do with the fact that he was too hungry. It wasn't an exotic or a more praise-deserving plate. Still, he was grateful for it.

"Glad you enjoyed it," Merlin commented.

"I did indeed, thank you."

"Sir," Merlin cautiously began, genuinely concerned, "do you, do you feel alright?"

"I do, why do you ask?" With his good mood, it was unnoticeable the curiosity he felt at asking him.

"Well, it's just that since the few weeks I've been working for you, I've hardly ever seen you in the mood you are right now." Merlin didn't feel like he was being nosy or intrusive, after all, wasn't it a part of a servant's job to notice their master's behavior?

Arthur was not expecting this. All of the sudden his servant was perceptive? He was still a little unsure about the question, so he asked him instead, "What do you mean?"

The boy hesitated, but began, "Sometimes you wonder, not paying attention, it makes me think that perhaps there might be plenty on your mind, but mostly you seem mad and irritated which makes me think that you're, well that you're just a bitter man" he eyed Arthur's reaction, but he could sense he was not mad by his comment, "but tonight you seem to be in a very good mood. I'm not saying that is a bad thing of course..." he trailed off.

Arthur's eyes narrowed at the boy's comment, he simply thought Merlin was trying to ask why he was in a better mood than most days. The prince would have never dreamed that Merlin was able to tell all that about him. Especially not after barely knowing him for such a short period of time.

The prince himself struggled for words, "I am simply content and grateful for the dinner, Merlin. I'm not sure what you are talking about." Arthur could have told the boy he had no right to be questioning him about his mood, but decided against it. He did not want to ignite any fictitious suspicions in the servant.

The silence in his chambers lasted only a few minutes afterwards, after Arthur remembered other matter that needed attention, it was broken.

"Merlin," he asked in the same polite tone as before, "where's my armor?"

"It's in the antechamber sire, I put it there hours ago."

"You finished?"

"Yes, do you want to see it?" He asked, hope reverberating in his tone, his blue eyes filled with the anticipation and there was also a hint of something Arthur couldn't quite interpret.

Merlin's expression softened the prince, he simply wanted to know that the boy was finished. He wondered the reason he said, "yes, bring it here," when what he really wished to do was to prepare for bed.

The boy carried the armor with great difficulty, carefully trying not to drop a single piece on the floor. When success was rewarded, he proceeded to lay the pieces into Arthur's bed.

Arthur couldn't stop the smile that formed in his lips, his face had a mixture of gratitude, happiness, but mostly he was astonished. "It looks," - it looked great, to say the least, but he wondered to what degree should he word his surprise, as he didn't want to overly praise Merlin -"well done, Merlin."

It seemed to be enough for Merlin as his own smile told that he knew the prince was grateful. "Thank you, sir," he exclaimed.

"It is your job, Merlin, don't forget that," he reminded the boy.

"You have low standards then, I assume, because whoever was doing this before, well it seemed not to matter much to you." He referred to the worn state and though not essentially dirty, inaptly kept armor before.

Arthur grinned in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief. How could this simple peasant be so observant? But he was not about to give in, that was out of the question.

"That is only because I've only trained for the fact of training in the past. This year is different. I will be competing in the sword tournament and I will need my armor to be kept properly." He had only thought about his reasoning after what the boy had said, it was not essentially a lie, but he knew that this is what he would have asked of Merlin regardless. Something to quench Arthur's annoyance.

"Are you telling me that any battles you've fought had been using that?" Merlin countered in feigned mock.

"There haven't been many," Arthur admitted. He hadn't been allowed to go into the battlefield until recently, and with the king's constant peace treaties, there hadn't been any new occurrences. There were thieves and burglars, but not always was he sent to take care of them personally.

"In any way," the prince continued, "I should remind you that a very important sword tournament is coming up in a few weeks. I have but the right time allotted for practice, I want you to keep this"-he pointed to his armor- "in perfect condition."

"Yes sire," Merlin replied.

Arthur wondered briefly what other assignments would he be able to accomplish with such fervor, but assumed that he would only find out until the boy, who now stood with a blank expression and his black hair pointed in every direction, actually accomplished them. He wanted to ask what he was thinking, but was interrupted before he could even word a letter by a tap at his door.

"Come in," Arthur said, raising his voice a little louder than he thought was necessary, but it took a moment before the door actually opened, and he thought that maybe the doors were way too thick for any real beneficial purpose.

"Arthur," the king greeted his son, unemotionally.

"Father?" Arthur asked, and he could see from his peripheral vision that Merlin was able to notice that his tone of voice, his question was a little off.

But his father didn't seem to notice, and thankfully he was the one who mattered.

"I wanted to personally tell you that we will be hosting very special guests in a few days," the king said, his own voice raising and lowering at just the appropriate syllables, just too appropriate for Arthur's like.

"Who are they?" Arthur asked in the same composed tone, and he didn't like a single bit the way he could sense Merlin's gaze in his head, questioning his own feigned astonishment. And he couldn't send him away either, that might, just might appear suspicious.

Not that any of it made any sense, not really. It was perhaps all in Arthur's head, and it was utterly annoying. He had always been extra careful whenever his father would try and impose anyone new to him, and well, mentally overreacting had turn into an embellishment, an ornament that only heightened his nervousness, and even though it was supposed to deviate attention from what he really felt, he could somehow sense it did the contrary.

When his father didn't respond, he thought it was because Uther had been able to perceive some of his hesitation, but he was not standing where he had a minute ago. He had gone to stand a few centimeters away from the bed, towering over something there. Arthur was too engulfed in his own thoughts to remember what could possibly be laying there of importance.

He then remembered something... He could feel heat being released from his gut, distributing uncomfortable amounts all over his body. A single drop of perspiration began to roll down his forehead.

Merlin eyed him, a worried look crossing his features but mostly he seemed confused.

"Arthur," the king called.

He hesitated, "Ye..yes?"

"Who did this?" and Arthur couldn't detect any anger, any disappointment. He could blame Merlin, but that would be an act of cowardice, and he wouldn't lower himself to that. Not even if it was a simple peasant the one who could spare him the consequences.

"I did it." Response firm, but inside his stomach twisted with an unknown type of fear: embarrassment.

"Didn't you think it would be a good idea to have the boy help you?" He didn't offer any glances towards Merlin, calling him a 'boy' simply for the lack of recalling what his name could be. He didn't care either way.

"What?" He asked, unable to mask his confusion, and wondering why Merlin stood agape, his blue eyes hinting just subtly that he was disappointed for some reason.

"It is the same, is it not?"

He walked to his father, who contemplated the shinny armor that rested all over his neatly kept bed. Arthur had completely forgotten about it, had been too enthralled in what other findings could the king encounter.

Just then did he realize the meaning of Merlin's constant switch of emotions. Had it been a different situation, he would have laughed at him.

"Yes, it's the same one. I-" he quickly elaborated a believable story, with this type of inconsequential matters, it was easy to deceive his father, "Gaius gave me a new polishing mixture that has just a small amount of butter."

"Interesting," the king replied.

"Indeed," the young prince said, looking even younger now as he tried hiding the whitest of truths from his father.

"I hope you are able to teach him," the king said, putting an end to that conversation, somewhat bothered by the fact that it was dragged more than it needed to be, as he simply wished to make a small comment about the object's appearance.

"Yeah, me too," Arthur regretted the words as soon as they were out, and he did not dare to glance over Merlin's direction. He wasn't afraid of course. He just considered that his action had not been of honor.

Uther decided to press on more important matters. He walked towards his son before speaking, allowing enough distance between them, but positioned himself so that he could speak face to face with him. "In a few days," he reminded him, " Garlot's king, my dear friend Aulfric and his delightful daughter Lady Sophia will join us for the upcoming tournament." He stopped speaking, allowing this to register in Arthur's head, and assessing his reaction.

"Wonderful, I look forward to seeing them again. It's been a long time since we have been granted their presence." His expression didn't give anything away. The mask was on again, carefully reacting and speaking at appropriate levels.

"Very true, they tell me that Lady Sophia is now a very beautiful young woman. I remember the last time we saw her she was a little girl still. You two got along quite well back then." The king's reminiscing an innocent memory at recalling Arthur's childhood friend.

Arthur's eyes narrowed infinitesimally before speaking. In his peripheral vision he could see that somehow Merlin had sense his slight falter, but he couldn't be bothered with him at the moment.

Instead, he smiled a wide smile, remembering of the pleasant days he and the Lady Sophia, along with Morgana, would play hide and seek inside the castle, constantly getting yelled at by their respective nurses. "And I'm sure we will get along now," he said, more to himself than Uther.

The king smiled at his comment. "I am hoping you do son, it would be a great honor for her father if you dedicate your victory to his daughter. Out of courtesy, of course."

"Of course," the prince repeated gently, but he did not like the turn of the conversation. "That is if I win," and suddenly the hidden part of him, that part that he only allowed out when he was alone, wished that he would not.

"Nonsense, I am sure you will do me proud." Only his statement sounded more like an order than hope or faith in his son.

"I will do my best," the prince said in return, making no promises.

"Arthur, tomorrow I will have a council meeting, I want you to be there early, before anyone else arrives, I wish to speak to you about a very important matter, alone, once you have rested."The king didn't eye Merlin, as servants were really not considered of importance, it was customary most of the times that a servant would be present when royalty discussed private matters. It was from other royals that matters were handled with more subtlety.

"Sure father, I will be there early."

"Alright, I will leave now, and let you finish your day's work, good night," the king gave a single nod at his son, turning his back almost simultaneously and disappeared out the door.

Once he was sure his father was out of eye and ear sight, the prince closed his eyes and sighed heavily, allowing his mouth to fill with the exhale, exaggeratingly overfilling his mouth with air.

When Merlin didn't comment with one of his enlightening speeches, the prince instantly knew that something had changed.

Merlin stood next to his bed, picking up the contents there, not caring if he once or twice dropped pieces to the floor. He refused to look at Arthur, who watched him with a bemused expression, wanting very much to burst out laughing, and he sure as hell could, but something inside told him that it wouldn't be a good idea to do so.

"Merlin," he called.

"Sir?" the boy replied.

"I want to tell you that I'm," but he couldn't apologize, because that would incite an explanation, and an explanation was not plausible, not for his servant. "You can leave that, I will put it away. You may go now." Merlin eyed him warily, Arthur could sense a question forming in his face, but the boy decided to not ask, directly walking towards the door instead. For once, not a single insult or remark spewing out of his mouth as he walked away.

"Merlin," the prince called again.

The boy turned, a tranquil expression in his face, "you need anything else?"

"Thank you."

The prince did not know where his sympathy emerged from, and was still thinking about the situation long after his servant had parted.


Arthur clutched something from underneath his pillow after undressing himself, making sure that the only source of light was a candle on his bedside table.

The small notebook seemed intact, as it should. There was a quill near somewhere, he knew, but did not bother to look for it. Instead he read through some of the pages. The hidden part of him, the one he allowed to present itself at varying moments, smiled at the writing there. The other part, the Arthur everyone knew, mocked him for such display of ambivalent character.

The monotony in his chambers was a perfect setting for his reading. It suddenly became the source of display. It was his own writing, and if not thoroughly of importance, the thoughts written lingered in his head, sometimes debating about his state of mind. Other times he just wrote about his day, not concentrating in anything in particular. It was the small, the unimportant happenings of his day that amazed him the most, from a piece of his clothing lain somewhere in his chambers, to the way in which the galloping of his horse made him react.

He knew that for him to keep such events recorded could signify something odd about him. But for Arthur, the way life appeared to happen, mesmerized him. It was beyond acknowledging pieces of fabric on the floor, but remembering what lead one thing to another. The cause and effect of what surrounded him. Everything and everyone a part of it, even if some he did not particularly like. And he countered that he did not have to like everything or everyone, if he did, he would never be prepared for his responsibilities.

Arthur had never dared to confide in anyone that he kept the small notebook. It was not a diary per se, because he wrote much more than what anyone could in a diary. And he knew that if anyone found out about it, especially his father, would think of him as weak.

It was he part of the reason Arthur had began with the notebook long ago. The prince did not want to mirror the hardened part of his father.

Remembering his father made him wonder what it could possibly be he would ask of the prince. A thought began to occur to him, but refused to host it for a long period, it wouldn't be a good an idea to dwell too much on the matter. If he guessed what his father wanted, he would act defensively, and he knew too well how that played out.

He placed the book back where it belonged, too tired to continue reading. He wanted very much to think about his horse ride this afternoon, but he knew that if he began to think about it, the same wave of uncalculated emotions would evade him again.

Arthur stretched his mind for a distraction instead, anything that wouldn't occupy a great deal of thought.

He began to wonder about the tournament, trying to think what strategies would work best against his opponents. Surely he would get far, if not for being the prince of Camelot, for all the training he's had over the years.

A soft thud on the floor distracted him for a moment, making him fumble his bed covers in search of what had been dropped. Arthur grabbed the candle from the bedside table, hovering around the room, pointing it where he thought the sound had originated. He didn't find anything of importance there, just a small wristband that had fallen from the table he'd set the armor on.

Even when he's not here does he manage to bother me.

That was of course, irrational thinking, as it had been Arthur that one who placed the pieces on the table.

He stared at the wristband for a moment before placing it back on the table and going back to his bed. He thought about Merlin's expression earlier, well all of his expressions and couldn't help the way in which his lips curved upward. As much as he wished, he couldn't deny that there was some sort of audacity to the boy. The way in which he would stare at him sometimes, almost knowingly, it was disturbing as it was enthralling. Maybe if he weren't the charlatan he was, Arthur would feel genuine empathy for the boy.

The prince wondered briefly at his reaction after his father had left. Arthur had a difficult time understanding why he could get upset. It was simply an armor.

But then the realization hit him, Arthur lived for greater…things, for lack of a better term. His life revolved around different duties, far more important than worrying about the state of his belongings. Merlin on the other hand, what did the young man had? The simple recognition of his job must be all he is after.

And then there was that small part of the prince again, that tiny part of himself that suddenly made him feel bad for, of all people, Merlin.


Thank you for reading, and once again, I hope you liked it.