"Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."

C.S Lewis

"Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit."

Aristotle

The prince, young Arthur, future regent of the free peoples of Camelot, heir to the Pendragon line, stood sourly overlooking his current domain. Gone were the vast clean halls of Camelot's castle, and gone were the bustling servants making everything perfect. The feather bed was replaced by three cots with rope bed frames and bursting straw mattresses. The large window with a view of the courtyard below was gone, replaced by a smoke-tinged single paned square that looked out onto the yard of the blacksmith shop echoing monotonously with the banging of the anvil. Everything was gone. Except that was, for the single servant awkwardly bounding about the room putting their things away. Merlin.

Arthur had not yet decided what to make of the gangly young man who had come blundering into his life. And to think, it had only been two weeks since they had met, was it really that recent? It felt like ages ago to him. The witch...the knife flying through the air. Goodness knows how he, a clumsy young man who had yet to grow into his height had managed to react quicker than he, a warrior trained from childhood. Perhaps it was the shock, Arthur considered, or maybe as she had been trying to kill him, she had dulled his reflexes through some sort of spell. Perhaps.

Arthur scratched his head in dismissal and turned back to examining the scene outside the window. Life was strange like that; he internally decided. Coincidences happen, people are in the right place at the right time, and lives are changed. Just an accident that a total buffoon, alright well perhaps not complete buffoon ended up becoming his servant, and decided not to leave. That again was the problem...why hasn't he left? He could get more sleep working with Gaius, he could do more intellectual work, which, though Arthur pretended not to notice, was more Merlin's specialty. Every time Arthur left a book on his desk or on his bed, he would see Merlin pause to read the spine or saunter to the bookshelf glancing through the pages. Arthur called his servant an idiot, and though he meant it, he did not mean that Merlin was unintelligent. In fact, barring common sense and physical acumen, he believed Merlin just might be smarter than he.

Arthur glanced back into their hovel of a room and saw Merlin rubbing his shoulder where the heavy burlap bag had cut into his skin. He was not made for physical work, Arthur knew. He even felt guilty when Merlin stumbled and staggered in pain during training or doing chores.

There were servants better equipped for it, so why didn't the boy quit?

Merlin looked up and made eye contact with the prince, he instantly stopped rubbing his shoulder and gave one of those awkward flat smiles someone makes when they don't know if smiling is appropriate. And that was the problem right there. If Merlin would just give up...admit he was wrong...resign his post or even show a bit of genuine hurt when Arthur overloaded him with work or rude comments, the prince might be able to stand him as a servant. But Merlin wouldn't. He responded insult with sarcasm and pain with humor.

It was terribly likable, and Arthur hated it.

He snapped out of his thoughts and spun back into action, clapping his hands together.

"Leave my sword here, in its scabbard but tuck it into my mattress there. I don't want any loose fingers trying to make off with it."

Merlin frowned disapprovingly, his sharp eyebrows drawn down like a snow owl glaring from a tree.

Servants are not supposed to let their opinions show on their faces, Merlin, Arthur thought with amusement, but not knowing what Merlin thought niggled at the back of his mind.

He paused a second and waited for the boy to say something, but he didn't, turning to grab Arthur's sword and shove it in the ripped corner of the mattress.

Arthur crossed his arms dangerously.

"Merlin." He said.

"Yes?" Merlin asked.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," Merlin replied.

Arthur picked up a balled up sock from Merlin's cot where a few things lay spread out and threw it at the Servant. It bounced off ignored.

"I know you," Arthur said.

"Do you?" Merlin sassed as he pulled out handfuls of straw.

"Well, I know you well enough to know you smile like an idiot at nothing, so whenever you frown there has to be something," Arthur replied clipping his plain red cloak back on, pretending not to be interested in what his servant had to say.

"I don't think you should be going alone, and especially not without your sword," Merlin said

Arthur laughed once.

"I am serious," Merlin said.

"So am I. I already told you, Lord Thurmond knows too well what my father would do if any harm comes to me. The worst that shall happen is that he will refuse an audience with me. I'll see what I can do at the castle; meanwhile you stroll about town and look for answers..." Arthur trailed off as he looked out the window, his eyes catching sight of a person crossing the town square.

"I think you underestimate just how angry-"

"Merlin, shut up and come look at this."

Merlin put down the straw and peered over the prince's shoulder out the window.

Arthur pointed out of it across the blacksmith's yard and into the street where a man, perhaps early thirties, was walking quickly up the path toward the castle.

"I know him."

"I didn't think you'd be friends with anyone who looked that common," Merlin said in surprise.

"Not friends," I don't have friends " I know him from the castle, he was a servant I think."

"What, in Camelot?"

Arthur hummed in agreement and looked at the retreating figure carefully a moment. He was a tall man, thin as a bending reed with longish hair tied back off of his face. Arthur had seen him crossing the courtyard many a morning loaded up with armfuls of scrolls, books, letters or packages. He was probably a courier or page for someone in the castle. He had not seen him in a while Arthur realized. Was he a bad person for not noticing? Of course not. He was a servant he had never spoken to. But Arthur genuinely hoped that someone had noticed that he had left. What a horrible fate to disappear from existence, unnoticed, unmourned.

"Sire..." Merlin began.

Arthur shook his head into focus.

"Go talk to him, he left before you arrived and has no idea who you are. I bet you could strike up an interesting conversation, and maybe figure some things out."

Arthur turned back into the room and headed for the door.

"Be careful, and don't draw too much attention to yourself," Arthur warned as he reached the door.

"You too," Merlin said, with so much sincerity that Arthur glanced back quickly. Merlin was already gathering his things, his back to him, so Arthur shrugged and left the room, the door creaking slowly behind him.

Merlin turned back around and watched the door swing closed.

Arthur pays enough attention to know who the servants are...maybe he's not such an arrogant ass as he pretends to be.

The early afternoon sun had begun to slope its downward descent, casting the area in a softer glow than before. Arthur set out towards the large gridiron gate of the castle, passing the townsfolk who nodded at him as he passed. He could feel their gaze burning into his back as he continued toward the castle.

Merlin was right, Arther acknowledged with a sigh, he was attracting more attention than he had hoped even without any royal insignia. And once he announced his presence at the castle, it was only a matter of time before everyone knew. No doubt everyone knew someone who worked inside.

Arthur scanned the townsfolk with the eye of a soldier, counting able-bodied men approximately, who was armed, where exits were if things should go wrong. Disaster planning was part and parcel with the job.

He passed beneath the castle gate, the cold shadow brushing over him before he plunged into the heart of the town. The most essential town buildings lay within the courtyard walls. An apothecary shop, a small building for religious worship, an armory, merchant shop, and a school and two or three homes. Thurmond hall's heavy oak doors painted black glowered in the shadows across that deceivingly lively little courtyard.

The keep seemed to loom dangerously over Arthur, just like his tutor had over his desk years ago. Arthur straightened his shoulders, put his chest out and approached the large doors with confidence. He reached out with hesitant fingers to touch the cold iron ring of the door. The door swung open quickly revealing a brightly lit hall just beyond the door.

Arthur swallowed hard and pushed down the feelings of fear.

He was a prince. There was no time for fear in the face of your enemies, whether on the battlefield or in the home.

The surprisingly large hall was covered by a thick blue carpet woven no doubt by the skillful masters in the east. Cool gray, green and blue stained glass windows cast a vibrant light in the room, and though Arthur was sure it was only his imagination, he could not help but notice the striking opposite colors of Camelot in almost every respect. Though it was not a castle, and no throne was present the hall did open on the far end at a large table where chairs were arranged before a massive fireplace, unlit but with a stack of wood ready to be burned.

A sallow colored man with salt and pepper hair approached Arthur, his hands folded at his chest like a priest. Most likely a steward.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Yes, I am here to speak with Lord Thurmond. It is a matter of some urgency." Arthur replied.

The steward's eyes took a quick appraisal of the young man before him.

"Are you looking to become a knight in Lord Thurmond's service? You'd best speak to the captain outside."

He has a captain of the guard? Arthur thought in some alarm.

"No. I am not. It is, as I said, a matter of some urgency."

The man looked down his nose at Arthur for some time then nodded curtly.

"Come this way, take a seat before the fire, and I shall fetch him."

"Thank you," Arthur said, unclipping his cloak and folding it over his arm.

"Shall I tell him who is calling upon him, or is that too a matter of some urgency." The steward said, his eyes crinkling in slight amusement.

"A son of a friend, replying to his letter lately sent to my father."

The steward threw up his hands in defeat before urging Arthur into one of the oversized chairs and rushing out a side door. Arthur draped the cloak over the back of the chair before sitting. He remained for some time, waiting for Lord Thurmond. He knew that in all likelihood his description to the steward should lead little doubt in his mind as to his identity.

A few minutes passed.

Arthur took to examining the hem of his tunic. Flawlessly done but for one string coming undone. Arthur began to pick at that string.

It only made it worse.

Speaking of making things worse made Arthur think about Merlin, and what he could possibly be doing...

What if he gave away too much to the townsfolk. What if those strange men from the inn tried to jump him?

A door opening made Arthur jump and touch his waist where his sword was usually hilted. The phantom sword sensation was quite unnerving. Though to Arthur's surprise, the side door that the Steward had opened remained closed. It was a door somewhere behind him. Arthur tensed as he heard the footsteps approaching behind him. Walking softly in what could be an attempt to catch him off guard. Arthur's fingers gripped around the arms of the chair and waited like a hawk.

Just as the footsteps picked up speed within arm's reach of the chair, Arthur quickly stood up and spun about to face the arrival.

"MERLIN!?"

The servant grinned guiltily.

He knew I would be here...that fool is determined to follow isn't he.

"Sire!... Isn't it weird how you just bump into people...in the great hall..."

Arthur rushed over to his side, grabbing his arm roughly.

"What are you doing here? He hissed.

"That person you sent me to find sent me this way with the name of someone to talk to," Merlin said, shaking Arthur's arm off.

"Who, never mind, you can tell me about that tonight, get out of here before they-"

"Arthur Pendragon!" A loud booming voice cut across the hall.

Merlin awkwardly stepped in front of Arthur, and if Arthur did not know his servant to be a coward, he could have sworn that he did it protectively. Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed the servant back with annoyance. He was such a clumsy oaf sometimes.

The steward had re-emerged trailing behind a large man with thick black curls that framed his face. A trimmed beard that did not reach his chest framed his hard mouth. His clothes were simple, but clearly well made. He made no attempts to appear a king, but his castle and knights said otherwise. Everything his father had said about him was conflicting, he had been described as Uther's right hand, his shield, but everything had endly badly. Arthur did not know why, and it had been years since he'd last been introduced.

Arthur nodded his head in respect, unable to bow as a prince but wanting to show proper respect to a man in his own home.

"Lord Thurmond I have come in response to your letter."

"I know it." The man waved his steward off who melted off into the shadows. Arthur knew he was probably listening just behind the door, as most servants did. He then turned his hard eyes over Arthur's shoulder to Merlin.

"And this is?"

"My manservant Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin swept low in a bow.

"Do you wish your manservant to hear what must be said between us?" Thurmond asked critically.

Arthur looked over at Merlin who frowned and subtly shook his head, asking Arthur not to send him away.

"My manservant will be no trouble...he is...in fact, um, mute," Arthur said turning back to Thurmond.

Merlin squinted at Arthur in annoyance but gestured to his ears at Lord Thurmond nodding.

"Ah, I see. I imagine it must be most inconvenient." Thurmond said to Arthur.

Arthur fought back a wicked grin.

"Well, it can be a pleasant change not having to listen to a manservant who prattles on all day." He said.

Thurmond shrugged, his motion revealing a large sword hanging at his side. Arthur glanced down at it for a second, before looking the man square in the eyes.

"Let us sit." The Lord said formally.

Too civil in fact, Arthur considered, given why he was here. Arthur decided that given his personality it was best, to be frank.

They sat across from each other, Merlin behind Arthur's chair.

"Lord Thurmond, you seem surprisingly gracious given the...uh, tone of your letter," Arthur said.

He waved away the comment with a large hand.

"Emotions were running high when I wrote it. I understand the situation is not ideal, especially given my relationship with your father, but what is done is done. If you are to be my son, I want to start things off properly. With civility if not respect."

Arthur cringed internally. He was not going to react to this well.

"Lord Thurmond, I know that I speak as my father thinks, that you are a well-respected man, noble, courageous, no one in the land, except the Pendragons, commands such respect." Merlin coughed slightly behind him. Arthur went on. "There is, however, a mistake. Your daughter's child is not mine. Though she has been at court months ago, I was unaware of her presence until just before my journey."

Lord Thurmond shot up angrily from his chair, looking every inch a black bear rising up on its hind legs. Arthur stood up as well, hands out to placate.

"I understand how that must appear to you, sir."

"Appear? You call my daughter a liar then, do you?" He demanded.

"No, sir, perhaps a bewitchment was put upon her, or some fallacious attempt to mislead or confuse her."

"I understand your embarrassment young man, but attempts to get out of this are pointless. That letter was found in YOUR OWN HAND. Or do you dare to deny that as well."

"I do sir, I deny it strongly." Arthur insisted. "Listen, if I could but speak to the Lady Etienne, maybe I could get to the bottom of this."

Lord Thurmond took a step forward, and Arthur fought the urge to step backward. Merlin stepped around the chair to Arthur's side.

"What, so you can try to bribe her into silence? My daughter's virtue is not so easily purchased." Thurmond growled.

"No, not at all. But I did not rob your daughter of her virtue. Though I am greatly grieved on your account, I cannot take claim for something that is not my own fault." He protested.

"Get out of my home, you pendragon swine, you're your father's son for certain." Thurmond said. "You will marry my daughter, or by thunder, I'll rain hell down on your family."

Arthur really wished he still had his sword but raised his chin in defiance.

"I will ignore that comment about my father, but what you speak is treason Lord Thurmond. I would watch how you speak."

Thurmond growled and withdrew loudly from the chamber the door swinging shut behind him. The steward re-appeared from the shadows, his face pale and eyes panicked. He walked the two young men to the door in total silence.

Merlin grabbed Arthur's cloak and spun it onto the prince's shoulders. As he reached around to clip it, he whispered to Arthur. "That went well."

Arthur just glared at Merlin before pushing through the keep's heavy doors with a bang.

Merlin just smiled silently at the steward, made a few motions of what appeared to be gratitude and then followed after the Prince.

Howdy. I know it's been a while since I have posted. I hope you enjoyed this little scene. I know, I know, it's not all that long. It's about the average length of previous chapters, but that last one was just soo long.

Anyway, I'm excited to be finishing the Mistaken Identity plotline then onto the poisoned chalice chapters. Also, if you ever have any idea of story things, one-shots, scenes you've always wanted Merlin and Arthur to do. Please message me. This story has the luxury of not only including canon stories but in canon ones as well. For example, if you always wanted a "Merlin thinks Arthur is dead story" or if you want an amusing, "Morgana and Arthur have an awesome adventure pre-Merlin season 1" Let me know. I would love to oblige.

Beth