ARTHUR
Merlin is looking down at his feet. I cannot help but feel worried. Will he still want to be around me? Will he be afraid of me or worse will he hate me? I am after all, the son of the man who kills his kind. How could he not see me differently? I know that I should not care what a peasant thinks of me. Father has always taught me that as a prince I am above every other class and that I should act and think like as such. Also, peasants are unable of complicated thoughts and that I should see the citizen of Camelot as a whole as important but individuals. However, Merlin is different and not just because he has magic. Not that I care for the boy. Of course not, I just like watching him make a fool out of himself. I cannot even make myself believe it.
"You're still a prat." A cheeky voice brings me out of my thoughts.
"What?" I don't quite believe what I heard.
"You're still a prat, just a royal one." He mocks.
"And you're an idiot." I cannot help but smile as my concerns give way.
"Well come on then."
"Where are we going?" Merlin sounds confused.
"You are my servant after all and there are plenty of chores for you to do there. My clothes need washed, bed changed, sock mended and I need a bath." This is going to be fun, but be the look on Merlin's face it seems he disagrees. All of a sudden the look on Merlin's face changes.
"I should thank you."
"What for?" Why should he be thanking me?
"Helping me with Lord Ambrose"
"Oh, think nothing of it." I feel uncomfortable with his thanks.
"No, I mean it. Thank you." He sounds so sincere.
"You're welcome."