By midafternoon Merlin wasn't entirely sure his prank had been worth it. After grabbing the prince a measly breakfast of cheese, two pieces of slightly burnt sausage and some apricots he was sent by a still irate Arthur to clean his armor. Arthur rarely inspected the job he did, usually trusting the servant to at least make it passable. Today, however, the prince was in rare form. The tiniest mark on the metal was to be redone and by the time Merlin was finished his fingers were aching and his stomach was growling for attention.
He had hoped that he would be able to slip off for a quick bite before afternoon training began, but Arthur would have none of it. He remained adamant that his servant remain at his side because, as he explained to anyone who would listen, Merlin needed constant supervision due to him being dropped as an infant. It did not matter that most of the people told already knew Merlin, and though they frequently wondered if he was entirely sane, they knew without a doubt he had not been brain damaged as a child.
When Arthur dined with his father for lunch, the young man made sure to sabotage Merlin into dropping whatever was in his hands every chance he could. The final straw came when Arthur casually kicked Merlin's feet out from under him without missing a beat in the conversation between himself and the king. Arthur had not known, of course, that Merlin had been carrying the stew pot in from the kitchens to offer seconds when he tripped his servant. Arthur's eyes widened slightly as he caught a glimpse of the giant tub of stew flipping up and over, spilling its contents all over the floor and the fallen man, and landing with a thud on the servant's chest.
Arthur could tell the tub had knocked the breath from Merlin's lungs and he felt an immediate flash of guilt, but he was horribly aware of his father's eyes upon him and opted to laugh nervously.
"Merlin you idiot," he said, not feeling nearly as confident and at ease as he sounded. "Can't you manage one hour without falling all over yourself?"
Merlin glared at Arthur from the floor, gasping in air as the stew soaked into his clothes. Arthur attempted to send an apology through his eyes, but Merlin was having none of it. Arthur watched in mild alarm as his manservant suddenly stood up, fists clenching handfuls of meat and vegetables that had once belonged in broth.
"You," he gasped raising his fists as if to throw his edible ammunition. "You royal as-"
Arthur, realizing his intentions, quickly stood from his chair and covered his servants mouth with the palm of his hand. He shot a worried glance at his father who was watching the unfolding events with one eyebrow raised. Merlin attempted to pull away but Arthur held firm and promptly jerked the young man around to face his father. It was clear, by the way Merlin tensed that he realized the extent of the mistake he had been close to making. It was one thing to call the prince a royal ass in private, but another to say it in front of his father.
"Arthur," Uther inquired, only briefly glancing at Merlin in bewilderment. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Arthur replied, a little too quickly judging by his father's frown. He quickly stepped back from Merlin who stood silently dripping stew. "We-uh, I mean, he-uh, well he-"
"I was cursing at the pot, my lord," Merlin said quietly when it became obvious that Arthur's attempt at an explanation was going nowhere.
"You were cursing…..at the pot," Uther repeated in disbelief.
"Yes," came Merlin's quick reply. "It helps, you see. I am sure Prince Arthur has told you that I am rather clumsy and I have found that cursing at whatever trips me helps make it less….embarrassing."
Arthur looked at the back of his manservant's head rather strangely. For someone who claimed to be the worst liar in the world, Merlin was awfully quick to come up with an unlikely but plausible story. It was another piece of the Merlin puzzle that Arthur would file away to dissect another day. For now, he was only able to wait with baited breath for his father's answer.
Uther glanced at the dripping servant and then back at Arthur, who would not meet his eyes. He had decided long ago not to interfere with whatever acts of lunacy the young men managed to find themselves in, but this was by far the strangest occurrence he'd ever had with the two of them. Well, perhaps not the strangest. That award would go to the humiliating marriage between himself and a certain troll, but he tried not think of that too often, less he lose his lunch.
This aside, Uther could not remember a time where the men were actually angry with each other, but his son's manservant was visibly seething. Arthur, for his part, looked particularly guilty and kept glancing at his servant with what could only be trepidation. Uther sighed and wished that he could roll his eyes, but such an expression was hardly kingly so he settled with furrowing his brow in annoyance.
"You will keep your curses to yourself when you are in my presence," Uther said coldly. "The next time it happens I will have you in the stocks. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sire," Merlin replied, respectfully bowing, meat and vegetables sliding from his hair to the floor. He looked from the new pile of food on the stone to the king with minor embarrassment, before he got on his hands and knees and attempted to clean the mess with his neckerchief.
"Merlin," Arthur said softly. He watched as his serva-no, his friend, tensed at the sound of his name and Arthur knew the young man was mortified. Merlin pretended not to hear him and went on his futile mission to clean the floor.
"Merlin," Arthur said, louder this time. He put a hand on the man's shoulder and was surprised to feel a knot of muscle bunched up there. "We'll have someone else take care of this, go clean yourself up."
Merlin paused and lightly shrugged Arthur's hand from his shoulder. This simple gesture of defiance and anger only intensified Arthur's guilt. He hated feeling guilty. Why should he have to feel guilty about anything? He was the crown prince, for God's sake!
"Now," Arthur snapped, hauling Merlin up by the arm and slightly pushing him towards the door. Arthur barely caught the look of hurt and anger that passed over his servants face and he knew that he would be paying for his little act of revenge for weeks to come.