'I have to do what?'

'I'm sorry Arthur, but there really is no other way is there? I mean-. I can't-,' he points at the door. 'You can't-,' he points the other way. 'We can't-,' he waves his hand between them.

'No! Of course not! I'm not suggesting… But that means,' he sighs and his shoulders droop. 'That means I have to go sleep on that haystack of yours again.' Arthur blinks wistfully at his bed.

'I have to sleep on it all the time,' Merlin tells him, sounding a little hurt.

'Yeah well, you're used to it aren't you? I mean, even sleeping on a forest floor is more comfortable than what you call a bed.'

'Yeah, well,' Merlin begins, imitating Arthur's tone of voice but then his own quietens down. 'It isn't like I have a choice so-.'

They had been sitting in Arthur's room for a while, Merlin in the chair and Arthur cross legged on the table. For some reason, it was harder to hang on to decorum with one looking like the prince and the other being him. When they were certain the kitchens would be empty, the two boys had snuck in there, filled two large plates with food and carried them to the prince's quarters.

'We have to tell someone,' Merlin had said between two mouthfuls but Arthur shook his head.

'Can't. Imagine the uproar. I want to attempt to find a solution ourselves. We didn't really try today.'

'But that girl will be here tomorrow. What is the deal with her anyway?'

'None of your business is what the deal is,' was Arthur's only answer.

'So.' Arthur says after an awkward silence where one had been studying the floor and the other the ceiling, swinging his legs off the table. 'You're right. It isn't the end of the world. Besides, maybe… when we wake up tomorrow it will all be back to normal. Maybe it will have blown over by then. Whatever it is.'

'Maybe,' Merlin says doubtfully.

'Right. Goodnight then, Merlin.'

'Goodnight, Sire.' Merlin says as Arthur disappears through the door, leaving his servant in his own bedchamber.

Merlin pulls off his boots and the long coat, stares at the shirts that are still strewn across the floor, picks out a sleeping one and pulls it over his head. When he flops down on the royal bed, pulling the sheets and blankets over him, he thinks of Arthur lying on his thin mattress and manages to pity him for three whole seconds before stretching his arms and legs wide so he resembles a starfish, sighing with deep contentment.

He could easily become accustomed to that bed.

Meanwhile Arthur stalks through the corridor on his way to Gaius's quarters, telling himself it really won't be that bad. He has slept under much worse conditions. In the pouring rain for instance during that notorious hunting trip, when it was too wet to even start a fire. He had nothing but a cloak and a blanket to keep him warm that time. He remembers how the mud had seeped into his boots, how the rain had soaked everything through so he thought he'd never be warm again. So sleeping on a hard, itchy bed really wouldn't be that bad. Surely they'd figure out a solution tomorrow. They had to… with Elli arriving. A door to his left opens, but Arthur is so caught up in his own world, he doesn't notice.

'Merlin?' a soft voice calls.

Who'd want Merlin at this time, he wonders. Don't they know he-. Oh.

Right.

He turns around. 'Ah Morg-, I mean. Milady.' He retraces his steps and comes to a halt at her door. Morgana is already dressed for the night. 'Is there something I can do for you?'

Morgana's eyes travel up and down, one eyebrow raised and Arthur drops the hand from his hip and puts his feet together in a more deferential pose. The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smile. 'It's all right Merlin, you're off duty. I was just wondering if you could give me a hand for a moment. Gwen has already gone to bed and-.' She steps aside, holding the door to her bedroom open and invites Merlin in with a hand gesture.

'Eh, sure.' Arthur tells her, not sure what it is she wants from him.

'They replaced the candles on my chandelier today but forgot to move the table back to its original place. Would you mind helping me push it back where it belongs?'

'No, of course not. I can do it by myself Milady, you don't have to-.'

'Oh hush Merlin, it's no effort.'

'No let me fetch one of the guards, it isn't proper for you to-.'

'Merlin,' she tells him sternly, with a commanding stare like only Morgana can muster.

So they both move to stand on opposite ends of the table and Arthur is secretly pleased it isn't as big as his, because it is still solid wood and it is still incredibly heavy. So he starts out thinking he'll just lift and move it, but is reminded in a painful way his brain is now attached to Merlin's arms and they both end up shoving and pushing until they are red in the face. When the table is finally back where it should be, Morgana collapses in a chair with a breathless laugh and Arthur ends up leaning against the wall trying very hard not to look like he is going to cave in.

Morgana however, isn't fooled. 'Sit down, Merlin,' she tells him, grinning. She even pours watered down wine in a goblet and slides it across the table. She then pours a generous amount for herself and lifts the beaker in the air. 'To elbow grease and propriety,' she offers and he says something along the lines of 'I'll drink to that, cheers'.

Arthur learns two things in that moment. One, that Morgana is far more relaxed when she thinks there is no royalty around and two, that the wine she keeps in her chambers is far less diluted than his own.

'So you were working kind of late Merlin,' she says, refilling her own goblet and passing the decanter across the table. 'Arthur having you scrub his armor at midnight again?' She smirks a little and for some reason that annoys Arthur more than her words. He opens his mouth to retort but she beats him to it. 'He needs to find himself a girlfriend or something, maybe he'll behave a little less like a prat, then.'

Arthur's mouth is still open but this time not with the intention to speak. Morgana misunderstands his silence however. 'Don't worry Merlin,' she laughs. 'I won't tell on you, although I doubt you'd say anything but good things about the crown prince. Loyal to the death, no doubt. Does he even know? How much you do for him?' But Morgana doesn't really expect an answer and her mind trails back to her earlier thought. She sips from her wine and says; 'Yes, a girlfriend,' while staring into the fire, a smile playing on her lips.

'I hear that girl will return tomorrow, the one he was so head over heels for a couple of years ago.' She glances at who she thinks is Merlin and laughs at his expression. 'Oh but you weren't here then, were you? You should have seen it. Precious it was, not leaving her side the entire time. All she had to do was snap her fingers. Bit embarrassing really… but teenage boys, what do you expect?'

'I-,' is all Arthur can raise, his ears burning red. He hides his face in the goblet of wine.

'I didn't like her much,' she tells him and when his eyes widen even further, she straightens. 'Oh don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous. Arthur is practically my brother, in every annoying way, but… No there was something about that girl I didn't like. Calculating. A bit of a mean streak in the making if you ask me.'

'Eh-,' Arthur offers, the flush spreading from his ears down to his neck. He wants to say so many things at once, his brain can't pick out a single thought so he remains silent.

'Well, what is it like, working for His Royal Arrogance?' Morgana asks him next, changing topic again and Arthur vaguely wonders how much wine she really had.

'It's ehm, all right, I suppose,' he mumbles, not sure what to make of this odd conversation.

'Oh come off it. Typical men that, isn't it? Unable to say what they feel. Everyone can see you are devoted to him. And I think he likes you too, you know. Although he'd sooner show his affection by throwing stuff at you than actually saying something nice. I speak from experience.'

'What? When did I ever- I mean… eh-.' Arthur flusters and tries to cover up his mistake by taking a deep gulp from the goblet. He is too unnerved however, and almost chokes on the wine. He coughs and splutters, the liquid burning when it ends up in his nose. Morgana just laughs and settles for staring into the fire again.

She is quiet for so long Arthur wonders if it would be okay to just stand up and sneak out of the room. He places his hands on the armrests of his chair and is about to push himself out of it when Morgana speaks again, so softly he barely hears her above the crackling of the flames.

'He'll be a good King, no doubt. Honorable, always eager to do the right thing.' An awkward silence fills the room again and the flames dance in Morgana's eyes, giving them a reddish glow that makes Arthur uneasy, though he can't exactly pinpoint why. 'Better than his father, that goes without saying,' she adds so quietly, Arthur can't be certain he heard her correctly.

'I should go,' he tells her, rising to his feet. 'It is late. Early start tomorrow…'

'Yes of course, forgive me. Pay no mind to my ramblings Merlin.' She smiles at him and the eerie light has gone from her eyes. 'Too many sleepless nights. Goodnight.'

'Goodnight Milady.'

Arthur hurries out of her room, but once outside, has to lean his forehead against the cool stone wall for a few seconds. Maybe the wine is dizzying him, and he blinks, to clear his vision but it does nothing to shake this feeling of foreboding that is so unknown to him.

When he manages his way down the stairs eventually, his head is much clearer and he is already half on his way to forgetting the odd things Morgana had said. He pushes open the door to Gaius's chambers, to find the old man sitting on his work bench.

'Oh Merlin, there you are.' Gaius grimaces as he lifts a leg up onto the seat. 'My left foot is hurting so much I can't sleep. Could you rub in that ointment like you did last week? It really helped.' Gaius points at a thick, yellow substance in a large jar on the table.

Arthur's jaw drops as he looks from Gaius's face to the slightly crooked toes the old man is wriggling in invitation, to his own hands.

Someone. Is going to pay for this. One day.