Merlin's mind was whirling. A war would distress all the people of Camelot, and destroy many of their homes and lives. Camelot had always been a peaceful kingdom despite their rather frequent small battles, and Uther was known as a king who avoided mass conflict, apart from with magic. Suddenly, as if he had been washed over with icy water, Merlin decided on a plan of action. He hadn't even been aware he was attempting to think one up, but he was determined now. He would protect the people of Camelot through this, he would stick by Gaius, Morgana and Gwen, and if Arthur wanted him to, he would stick by Arthur. That's what they'd always done, stick together, and it had always worked.
Arthur sat in his room, just a few hours after his departure from the war meeting. War. He would not let his people get worried, it was his job to protect them, and not only that, he wanted to protect them.
"Hey you, I need my boots cleaned and my armour polished. There's a bloody war on, and if you're not going to fight you might as well make yourself useful." This came too easily for Arthur. Had he really been like this before? "Well? What are you waiting for? Come on."
Merlin's face was a living example of horror, mixed with disappointment and misery. For a moment Arthur wanted to reach out, banish Merlin's sorrow, and kiss his lips into a smile. But he didn't, and Merlin's barely spoken yes, Sire penetrated deeply into Arthur's heart. Much, much too deeply. And at that point, Arthur broke. His silent screams muffled by the blood trickling from his bottom lip where his teeth had been buried. Arthur looked up, ready to apologise over and over again to rid himself of this pain and to have a true friendship with someone that he genuinely liked. But Merlin was gone, and with him Arthur's boots and armour. And this hardened Arthur's heart. For a reason unknown to him, he was now more than ever determined to conquer this thing. He was Prince Arthur, known for his strength, and whatever Merlin had attempted to enchant him with would be overcome. And without the stupid boy by his side, he would rise to become the best king Camelot had ever known.
Whatever he was doing, Merlin was not going to think of Arth- of the Prince. He was a stuck up royal, just like all the others. Obsessed with titles and ranks, and would never be seen talking to somebody lower in class than themselves, except to order said person around. Had he been pretending all this time? He must have been. Arthur was not his friend; he was his master, his employer. They couldn't have been friends even if they had wanted to, and Arthur clearly didn't. So putting behind kind word Arthur had spoken to him, every lingering look, every mischievous grin, he made his way back to Gaius' chambers. He was settling for friends; he had never dreamt they would ever have anything more, but friends was okay, it was good. He thought Arthur had been one of the best friends he had ever had, but this was obviously not the case. Friends didn't treat each other in that way, and they would just have to return to what their relationship should have been. And that was good, it was okay.