Summary: "'...Do you need a hand with that, sire?'" Merlin is running late, and Arthur has to dress himself. His manservant stumbles upon quite the amusing scene when he finally arrives. One-shot. Set in the first two seasons.

A Day In The Life Of A Prince's Manservant

"Merlin!"

The sound of Gaius's voice pulled the warlock from his slumber. He mumbled something unintelligible, adjusting the angle that his head was nuzzled into his pillow. A peaceful sigh escaped him and he smiled comfortably.

Then his blanket was pulled away and the colder air rushed in.

"Hey!" He sat up abruptly, frowning as he turned to face the door.

Gaius fixed him with a stern look. "You're running late, my boy. Arthur will be wondering where you are by now."

"Let him." Merlin huffed, scowling. "Do you have any idea how late I stayed up mending his cloak last night? It was in shreds."

"As Arthur's manservant, it is your duty to do what he assigns to you, Merlin." The elderly physician pointed out, unsympathetically. "I don't believe that he'll give you time off just because sewing isn't your most valuable skill."

He groaned, getting up from the bed; he had been too tired to change into his nightclothes the night prior, and was already dressed for the upcoming day. "I hope you made breakfast, at least."

"There's a sandwich out on the table, waiting for you."

"...Thanks, Gaius."

Merlin slipped past his guardian and climbed down the stairs from his room. He spotted the specified sandwich, snatching it from the table. One glance at the rising sun through the windows and he was off, making quick work of his meal as he headed for the prince's chambers.

When he finally reached Arthur's chambers, his sandwich fully consumed, he paused just outside the closed door. He could hear the cursing of a frustrated prince inside. He frowned, suddenly wishing that Gaius had seen fit to wake him on time instead of allowing him the extra rest he had gotten. Arthur was never fun to deal with when he was in an irritable mood- which was, unfortunately, most of the time.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Merlin pushed open the door. Here goes nothing.

His eyebrows went up at the sight of a half-dressed Arthur hopping around on one foot as he struggled to pull on a boot.

"There you are, Merlin." The prince ground out, glaring at him.

"...Do you need a hand with that, sire?" He returned, allowing a tiny bit of amusement to trickle into his voice. He didn't wait for an answer, starting forward to aid his master. "You really are helpless without me, aren't you, Arthur?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, sire."