Uther does not greet Arthur in the manner of a father greeting a son. He shows no signs of having missed him, no relief at his safe homecoming. If the sharp slap he delivers to Arthur's cheek is anything to go by, Uther is not pleased to see his son at all.
"My lord" Arthur mumbles, face flushed with colour. He doesn't raise his head, knows how great and terrible Uther's fury must be, that a slap will be the least of his troubles if he upsets his father further.
"You return empty-handed" The king says, quietly, evenly. "Where is the witch I was promised?" Arthur can hear the barely-restrained anger lurking beneath the surface, bites back his reply. I promised you nothing.
"We found no witch" He says after some moments, his own voice ragged and weary. "Nor any trace of her. Had I not seen her with my own eyes I would doubt she existed at all"
"Indeed" Uther responds.
"I am sorry to have disappointed you father-" Arthur begins, hisses through his teeth as the second blow lands upon skin already stinging from the first. "- It won't happen again"
Uther falls heavily into his throne, the room silent around him.
"It will be a fine day in Camelot when you cease to disappoint me" Arthur nods, closes his eyes as Uther gives a pained sigh.
"You may leave" His tone suggests he has no desire to see Arthur again before the week is through. Arthur is not distressed by this knowledge, his mind already racing forwards, searching the castle, seeking out the person he does wish to see, however strange such a desire is.
Merlin.
Arthur arrives in his chambers, scowling at Merlin and muttering beneath his breath. He leaves his chain mail in a pile on the floor, clothes strewn about the room, and a trail of the same black mud that clings to his hair and skin.
Merlin tuts quietly as he runs soapy fingers through Arthur's matted hair, untangling and stripping of mud, dirty water pouring down Arthur's shoulders in dark rivulets.
"Where did you find this much mud to cover yourself in?" He asks, exasperated, barely registering Arthur's grunt of reply, which could mean "swamp" but could equally mean "none of your damn business"
He wants to say something, anything. I missed you, or don't leave again, or you're really sort of beautiful you know. He can't of course, knows the trouble it would cause. Whatever it is between he and Arthur remains unspoken, as it must.
Arthur's head lolls in his hands, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chapped and pink. Merlin's fingers tighten momentarily and then fall away, Arthur's eyes opening suddenly as his head raps against the edge of the tub.
"Ow" He says, surprised.
"My apologies Sire" Merlin says softly, averting his eyes as Arthur rises from the water with a splash.
"I should be apologizing" Arthur's tone is wistful, his eyes searching Merlin's, blue to impossible blue. "I should have helped you" He gives a long, pained sigh, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand, dark circles against his golden skin.
"It's not your fault. You did all you could" Arthur tumbles onto the bed as Merlin speaks, naked and wet. He curls away under the soft coverlet, a patch of damp rapidly appearing upon the pillow beneath his head.
Merlin doesn't understand the guilt, probably never will. It is Arthur's burden, and Arthur's alone, everyone else must simply ride out the storm.
Arthur wakes to the smell of soap and the rapidly forgotten remnants of a dream swirling around his head. Merlin smiles beneath dark lashes and is banished into the aether as Arthur struggles his way into the waking world, stretching and brushing against a warm weight somewhere to his left.
He opens his eyes and groans. Merlin is curled beside him, chest rising and falling rhythmically, his eyes fluttering rapidly behind pale lids. It's dark outside the windows, a wedge of moonlight falling across the stone floor and bathing the room in silver. Merlin is a creature of stories in the pale light, the angles of his face thrown into sharp relief and turning him into something otherworldy. Arthur's fingers itch to touch the shadows against his cheeks.
It isn't his fault, Arthur rationalises, that Merlin makes such an attractive woman. Anyone would understand his desire, and as Merlin is just a servant, no-one would question if he chose to act upon it. There's no danger of offended honour, it wouldn't be the first time Arthur's taken a maidservant to his bed, and certainly not the last. But Merlin is blessedly oblivious to the way the knights eyes follow him through a room, or the scandalised whispers of the other maids, is somehow ignorant of the way his awkwardness has evened out into appealing curves and fey beauty. There's something Arthur enjoys about such innocence, and he has no desire to taint it with something meaningless purely to satisfy his own need. There are more than enough willing candidates for that.
There's a bruise on Merlin's shoulder, mottled blue and purple, and the smell of soap and sweat swirls in the air around him, hair sticking to his damp forehead as he sleeps. The front of his dress has ridden down somewhat which is rather a nice view indeed, and one milky leg has found its way out of the tangle of skirts. He's real and solid and far, far more appealing than the Merlin of dreams Arthur has just woken from.
By the time Merlin stirs however, Arthur has once again surrendered to sleep, and he does not feel the warm weight leave the bed, nor hear the creak of a door open and close. He stirs and then settles once more, the first rays of sun sneaking into his rooms.
It is a few days later when Merlin and Gwen trudge through the undergrowth together searching for mushrooms and Gwen suddenly forgets herself and blurts out the first thing on her mind.
"Is Arthur courting you?" Her tone is sharp, underlaid with hurt and jealousy, which is not entirely unexpected. Merlin freezes, thrown by the sudden accusation and gapes for several moments before he can reply.
"O-of course not!" He splutters, Gwen's eyes searching his for a long moment before she apparently deems this answer acceptable and continues walking.
"No, I suppose he wouldn't" She says after a few long moments and sighs, sitting heavily on the forest floor.
"Why would you think Arthur was courting me?" Merlin asks, trying to ignore the mud seeping through his skirts. Gwen takes a long moment to compose herself, though her eyes are still wet when she finally speaks.
"They say he's sweet on you" Her voice cracks on the last word and she wipes her eyes angrily. "And I'm not jealous, but its not just the servants Merlin, it's everyone! The knights and all, and I thought-" She breaks off with a choked sob, and Merlin pulls her into his side and embraces her as best he can.
"He isn't sweet on me Gwen. If there's anyone he wants, it's you" Merlin knows this is the truth, no matter how he wishes otherwise. He does not resent Gwen her jealousy, it isn't really surprising at all, not with the quietly growing jealousy he's had for her the past month or so.
"If - if he was Merlin, I wouldn't be angry. I mean obviously I would be upset, but I don't mean-" She stops, takes a heaving breath and giggles at how tongue-tied she's become. "I wouldn't take it personally if he did"
"The only part of me Arthur likes are these" Merlin laughs, gesturing to his chest, and a smile flits across Gwen's face as she shakes her head.
"Arthur isn't like that. If he likes you, it's for you, not your breasts, as noticeable as they may be" She's smiling more fully now, wiping the wetness from her face with the heel of her palm.
"Must be why he likes you then" Merlin says amicably, nudging her gently with an elbow and she laughs. "You're kind and brave and one day Camelot will be proud to call you queen" Gwen laughs.
"Queen Guinevere does have a nice ring to it" She says wistfully, "but I cannot marry Arthur, and concubines cannot be queens"
"Then I have no more chance than you" Merlin whispers and they fall silent for a moment before he asks, "Is there no-one you would marry?" Gwen looks thoughtful for a moment before her cheeks flush and she looks sideways through her eyelashes at him.
"I think, if Lancelot had asked for my hand... I should have liked that" She ducks her head against her chest before hurriedly continuing. "We would not have had much, but we would have been happy" Merlin smiles so hard he thinks his face might break in half.
"Then I hope for your sake he returns soon" He says, and finds to his surprise that he really means it.