Thanks again for all the support, it's a much better response than I could have imagined. Almost there now, this one and the final chapter are my favourites, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4 The King's Chambers:

Arthur surveyed his servant; Merlin had been in an odd mood all day. Well, half a day, no one had seen him all morning then he'd arrived at the training grounds flustered and unkempt. His brown jacket was stained with black goo and even looked singed in places. He had been downright irritable, his usual sunny countenance and ungainly but cheeky swagger absent.

Something was clearly bothering Merlin and Arthur had decided to investigate by engaging in some friendly banter, but it had not gone to plan. The servant's responses had been below par and feeble at best. Then there had been some sort of altercation with Gwaine and Merlin had scuttled off before Arthur had had a chance to talk to him.

The Sovereign examined his subject again; Merlin was pale, peaky even, his shoulders were hunched and he held his head at an awkward angle. The warlock's brow was partly obscured by a dark fringe but he was frowning in his concentration and the paper in his long fingers trembled.

Arthur was proud of the speech he had written; Guinevere had only helped a little, a couple of tweaks here and there. He'd given it to Merlin in the full expectation of a glowing report, but his servant seemed to be taking an age to pass comment. The king sighed; he was growing impatient and started to drum his fingers on the table in anticipation.

Merlin wanted the day to be over, he was tired and the headache that had followed him around all afternoon in the background was at the forefront and firmly ensconced, banging away behind his left eye. He wanted to go to bed, to crawl under the covers and wake up fresh in the morning. He couldn't of course because his master had given him a scroll to read and comment on. Usually he could skim through these things with ease, offering some subtle changes and suggestions wrapped up in compliments, but today he couldn't concentrate. He was distracted by a drumming noise, he tried to drown it out and focus on the task in hand.

The letters danced across the page like pretty maidens on the summer solstice, never staying in place long enough to pin down and gather their meaning.

"So, what do you think?"

"Erm, it's good, very good, well done" Merlin made to offer the paper back to the king, with a slight grimace.

"What are your thoughts on what I said about the Caerleons? Was it too much?"

"I don't think I got that far"

"It was in the third paragraph, what is wrong with you Merlin? Have you forgotten how to read, spent too much time in the Tavern and damaged those last few brain cells of yours?"

"Of course I can read, it's just your handwriting I can't read, it's terrible, the worst in the kingdom. It looks like a spider took a bath in an inkwell and dried itself on the paper"

"It most certainly is not, nobody's said anything before"

"Well they wouldn't would they? You're the king. You are the one always banging on about not wanting to be treated differently because of who you are, but you don't like it when I tell the truth" Merlin huffed exasperated. There was a long pause, and then Arthur responded.

"It's not the worst. What about Gaius?"

"He's the physician; nobody's expected to read his hand writing"

There was silence, Merlin sighed licked his dry lips and stared at the paper again. He wanted nothing more than to scrunch it into a ball and throw it in the face of his insensitive Sovereign.

The thought made a smile play at the corner of his lips, but that was not an option. The scowl returned and he re read the first three lines for the umpteenth time, still making little sense of the text.

Merlin usually excelled in multitasking, his eyes missed nothing and his reflexes were sharp when he wanted them to be. But he was so engrossed, he did not hear the scrape of metal against the table and the faint whistle as the goblet made its ascent through the air in a perfect arc. He was oblivious to its journey until its end, smack in the middle of his forehead.

The servant crumpled, his knees buckled, his torso and head followed, landing on the floor in an undignified heap and releasing a small grunt as he flopped back onto the hard surface. The only other sound was the jewelled goblet as it hit the ground, making ever decreasing circles, spinning on its axis until it finally came to a stop.

Arthur had watched the scene play out in apparent slow motion, the king had lost count of the times he'd thrown things at his servant but never had he had such a reaction. He'd never wanted to hurt Merlin, merely gain his attention and now he wasn't attending to anything or anyone, he was lying sprawled on the king's floor and no amount of jostling and name calling would wake him from his slumber.