Merlin discovered as he staggered in late that night, drinking makes the pain ease.
Not vanish entirely, but ease enough for him to sleep.
He couldn't stop thinking about Arthur. He couldn't stop replaying their breakup in his mind. But he managed to fight his way into a light sleep.
The scorching light slammed into him directly from the open window. His stomach was turning circles and his head was pounding.
He heaved himself up to head to Arthur's chambers. He assumed even without a personal relationship, they were still working together.
Merlin staggered through the corridors. He passed Gwaine who looked just as rough in the face but his hair was still perfect. Merlin groaned at him.
Gwaine groaned back.
Merlin nodded a little.
Gwaine raised his head.
They both grunted and went on their way.
Merlin found Arthur's door open a crack. He peered inside.
Another servant with a brown jacket and a blue shirt and short Brown hair served Arthur his breakfast in a respectful and dignified manner.
He placed the food covered silver plate on Arthur's lap and covered Arthur's bare chest with a white cloth.
He moved with such grace and elegance that it was as if he was born and raised to serve royalty. Like he'd practised the same moves repeatedly for hours. Like it was in his blood. All he was meant to do.
The way a man servant should be.
Arthur smiled at him with confused wonder. He couldn't help wondering why this George, was so extremely aggravating. He was boring as Hell and too polite. Arthur hated it. There was much too much grace and elegance and patience and far too much gentle waking.
Merlin was rough and grabby and dragged Arthur out of bed. He threw cloths at Arthur and "subtly" made more holes in his belt. Then he was criticising. Merlin practically annoyed Arthur into getting him up and ready. To be honest, he preferred his old clumsy dim-witted Clotpole of a manservant, to this professional. Arthur didn't see this relationship lasting. He smiled, to wait out the time between
Yet Merlin only saw the smile.
Merlin knew he was out of a job, but now it seemed he really was out of love too.
Arthur was happy. Happy without Merlin.
But he was wrong.
In this agonising belief, he recalled the "conversation" he had had with Gwaine earlier.
"Morning"
"Yeah it is"
"You look like hell!"
"You should look in a mirror! Tavern later?"
"Meet you there."
So he tuned on his heels and walked away down to the tavern on the outskirts of the village. (it was the only one open at the moment) when the rising Sun opened, he almost flew through the doors, only to land on his face, already drunk. Gwaine dragged him to a table.
Merlin didn't leave again for three days.