It was very late by the time they entered the chamber again. Merlin eased Arthur on to a chair by the fireplace, and fetched a basin to set near him.

"Use this if you feel ill," he cautioned. "I don't want to clean up a mess from the floor like last time you were in this state." It had been quite disgusting, so Merlin had used magic to make it disappear when Arthur had fallen asleep.

Arthur just giggled in reply, his head lolling against his shoulder. "That was the longest evening ever! And those women would not stop talking!"

Merlin set the fire up and soon had a blaze going. The light flickered over them. He squatted beside Arthur, and worked his boots off. "I thought the one with red hair was very beautiful."

"Katherine of Cardigan," Arthur said, screwing up his face in deep concentration. "Yes, I suppose her visage was acceptable, but she only talked about tapestries all night! Lord, give me strength to withstand such boredom."

Merlin chuckled. Arthur usually didn't talk so openly about members of the nobility. "And the one with the light coloured hair? It was almost a silvery white."

Arthur shook his head, almost falling over in the process. "No, no, no," he said, holding a hand up. "People have long talked of that hair and her beauty, but I can't say I found it appealing at all. I prefer dark hair, truth be told."

Pouring out some water, Merlin passed it to Arthur. "You really should tell your father that then. Stop getting all these ladies here when they don't even have a chance."

Arthur drank the water down, and Merlin was grateful for that. Maybe he wouldn't be as hung over tomorrow. Maybe he wouldn't need Gaius' awful tasting tonic.

"There's no point telling him anything about this. He is stuck with certain ideas of who should be my Queen. Beautiful, kind, smart."

"Sounds completely awful," Merlin smirked, moving to the bed to draw back the covers. "Now stand up. Let's get you ready for bed."

Normally he left Arthur to take care of himself at night. Most nights, he left out some wine and turned down the bedsheets, and retired to Gaius' rooms. Arthur would change into his night shirt and robe, and relax by the fire with the wine and a book before bed.

Arthur lurched to his feet, and wobbled. Merlin stabilized him with a hand on his shoulder, chuckling to himself at how drunk Arthur was. He'd seen him tipsy often, and really drunk only once before. It wasn't as bad as this.

Getting his trousers off involved pulling them down to his thighs, and having him sit down to get them off the rest of the way. He left Arthur seated to get the doublet off.

Finally in just a nightshirt, he got Arthur in bed, tucking the covers around him. "The basin is right here if you feel sick," Merlin cautioned again. "Goodnight."

"Don't go!" Arthur said, his eyes pleading. "I'm not tired yet."

"You are tired, and it's late. Close your eyes, Arthur," Merlin said, trying not to laugh. The Prince sounded like a ten year old resisting his early bedtime.

"Stay. This is a big bed. Stay and talk to me. Tell me a story," Arthur patted the covers beside him.

Merlin sighed. He was quite tired himself. Normally, he would have been in bed hours ago. But he couldn't really go against a direct order.

"Fine. Just for a little bit," Merlin conceded. Reaching down, he pulled off his boots and crawled on to the bed. He was lying on top of the covers.

It was a strange sensation. The bed was so huge, and soft. Layers of bedding were below him, cushioning every part of his tired body. The room was warm from the fire. His exhaustion really seemed to hit him.

"A story! You promised," Arthur said, nudging his shoulder against Merlin's.

Sighing again, Merlin searched his mind for a suitable story. He was too tired to think of much, and Arthur was probably too drunk to remember it tomorrow anyways. Anything would do.

"Um, there once was a poor boy who lived in a small town with his mother," Merlin started.

"Where was his father?"

"He died when the boy was very young. His mother raised him," Merlin said, and felt a pang of deep homesickness, missing her and his old life so much. It felt like so long ago, even though it had only been a couple months.

"Go on," Arthur ordered, his tone a bit sleepy now.

"He loved exploring in the woods, playing in the streams-"

"And playing with his friends."

Merlin shook his head, and turned on his side to face Arthur. "Well, not really. He never really fit in that well with the other people of the town."

"That sounds lonely," Arthur said, turning on his side as well, so they were face to face. "It was like that for me too. People treated me differently, since I was the Prince."

Merlin blinked at this revelation. Maybe Arthur had more in common with him than he had thought. And his mother had died when he was a baby, so he was raised by his father. But he also had the rest of the castle staff. So not that similar, really.

"Some boys just aren't like the others," Merlin shrugged. "So, this boy moved to a bigger town, to meet others. Maybe find a better place. A place he could fit in."

"Did he find it?" Arthur asked, his eyelids getting heavy, and then closing.

Merlin stared at the face of the Prince. Arthur. His friend. His boss. Someone he spent many hours around each day. "Yeah, he did," Merlin said softly, and slipped off the bed.

…

-A/N: Thanks for continuing to read this.