The kitchens are basically a mass of sweaty bodies slowly working themselves up to a panic, with swirls of steam and whiffs of cooking meats filling the already cramped air. Arthur is shoved into a corner with large, dirty pots that need scrubbing and he briefly feels like rebelling but knows there is nothing to be done apart from get on and get through. That, and if Merlin ever found out he tried to bail, he would never hear the end of it. Within no time, the brittle energy assaulting him from all directions has him tense as a strung bow, no matter how many times he tells himself that this is ridiculous, I am a knight. For what feels like hours, Arthur remains in his corner, gnashing his teeth until the head cook comes for him, tells him to-.

'-Go and put on a clean shirt boy, we need more serving staff.' Sends him packing with a cuff to the back of his head, so Arthur almost feels something close to sympathy for Merlin but he manages to suppress it.

Merlin.

He wonders how he is managing. He hopes the boy is keeping a cool head. A cool head that he is keeping down above all else. The sympathy bubbles up again unbidden when he thinks of his own frazzled nerves after a morning in the kitchen and how Merlin's must be fairing in the throne room, all by himself, never having spent all that much time with nobles. He quickly changes into one of Merlin's chafing shirts, regretting he didn't think of doing that before the dirty work started, and makes his way back to the kitchens. One of the cooks presses a silver tray with goblets full of wine in his arms and he goes to stand in line with the others. From there on, he is so busy he doesn't actually have much time to think about anything.

He tries to laugh with the servants as they come and go, talking loudly outside the throne room where they don't have to mind their tongues. An older man nudges him saying something along the lines of; 'ha-ha did you see that thing Lady wotsit has on her head? Think she knows it's there?' and Arthur says; 'ha-ha, yeah, I think it's still alive!'. When the others in earshot laugh at his joke, he relaxes a little and thinks that this isn't so bad after all.

It is odd to enter the throne room from this angle. To walk through the throngs of people and not be greeted, sought out or hailed from across the room. To walk around and essentially be invisible unless someone is thirsty. More than once he is tousled by an elbow or a shoulder and expected to apologize. Once, he is shoved so hard, one of the brimful goblets teeters dangerously and actually splatters the back of some foreign knight's cloak with red liquid. For a moment Arthur believes it is his willpower alone that keeps the goblet from toppling over completely, but is then distracted by being angry at himself for allowing the whole incident to make him break out in a cold sweat. It wears on him after a while and when his tray has been emptied and refilled so many times he lost count, he moves along the cold, stone wall, edging his way to where Merlin is standing. He grabs a wine carafe off one of the other serving boys and tops up Merlin's goblet.

'How can you stand it?' he hisses in his ear.

'What?' Merlin mumbles, a little surprised. He has to grab hold of the decanter because Arthur is not paying attention to exactly where he is pouring the wine.

'How can you stand being treated like this?' he says, looking around the room and seeing the smiling faces, ignoring those who serve them.

'You say it like I have a choice in the matter,' Merlin observes a bit coolly.

'The cook cuffed my head!' Arthur complained, pouting a little.

'What? Only once?' Merlin says, astonished. Then he grins, nodding his head in princess Elvira's direction. 'She's pretty.'

Arthur scowls. 'I 'spose.'

'Oh come on Sire,' Merlin guffaws so Arthur has to nudge him in the ribs and say hush. 'Still,' Merlin continues in a whisper. 'She's very beautiful, I don't blame you for -what was it- turning into a love sick puppy,' he sniggers.

'I didn't-.' Arthur starts, but then looks to the left and right. 'I didn't, okay?' he continues in a low hiss. 'Besides, there are at least a dozen prettier girls in this room.'

'Like who? And Arthur, there aren't even a dozen girls in this room.'

'Like Morgana, for one thing.'

He's right. The slender girl looks stunning in a burgundy dress, her hair piled neatly on top of her head. 'And her.' Merlin follows the direction of Arthur's nod. It is Morgana's serving girl.

'Who, Gwen?' Merlin asks. 'You think she's pretty?'

'Yeah. Don't you?'

'Well, yes but she's a servant.'

'So?' Arthur says a little defensively. 'What's wrong with being a servant?'

'Nothing,' Merlin tells him with a small snort. 'Nothing at all.'

Arthur has to move on then, their hushed conversation drawing a glance or two from nearby guests. He trudges back and forth between the kitchens and the throne room so often, he thinks he will be able to do it with his eyes closed.

Once, his spirits are ridiculously lifted when he hears one of the visiting ladies tell her friend that-.

'Prince Arthur certainly looks very handsome and would be quite a catch.' His spirits drop a little however, when the friend replies with; 'Yes, especially since young men his age are usually so loud and boisterous. But he seems thoughtful and considerate. Paying attention to what happens around him rather than wanting to be in the centre of it.'

He avoids that particular corner for the rest of the evening, completely unintentionally, of course.

By the end of the night, Arthur wouldn't be able stand if he was any more tired and Merlin is really tired of standing.

'You think you can manage getting yourself out of your own clothes Merlin,' Arthur yawns as they leave the throne room. 'Or has this whole thing gone to your head?'

'Not at all. I multitask. I can do absolutely nothing useful for an entire day and still remember how to undress by the evening.'

'You know Merlin, I'd hit you over the head with something but I honestly can't lift my arms.'

'Oh so, now all of a sudden serving drinks is harder work than sword fighting is it? Because you had to do it for one day.'

Arthur snorts. 'Not at all, it's just that you have jelly for arms.'

They reach the end of the corridor, where they have to go their own ways.

'Tomorrow,' Arthur says, stretching his arms to the side, yawning again. 'We figure this thing out. Gaius will be out on rounds midmorning, so we can have a look at the books around his quarters. You never know.'

'So you going to tell me what the big deal was with Elv-.'

'No. I'm not. Goodnight Milord.' Arthur makes a show of bowing with a flourish, his hand first waving over his head and then down.

'Goodnight,' Merlin tells him, adding a word that may or may not be idiot while rolling his eyes and Arthur grins wickedly.