A/N: Hello! Here's another chapter of Morbid Sunrise. Tell me what you think!

Hope you enjoy!

Cub xxx

Chapter One

When Merlin shot up out of bed the first thing he did was survey the room to ensure that he was still in Camelot. It was ritual, and it was reassuring. They had not found him, they couldn't touch him. He was free.

It always brought a smile to his face, a slight one, tension filled and barely touching his lips, but it was there. Freedom was pleasure, and a luxury he reveled in. He remembered how it got to this, how he became mortal, reborn. Small and frail, he grew into a magical powerhouse. It was funny that he got more powerful when trying to be less. The compensation was also more dangerous than staying fey, with magic punishable by death. Ironic. He doesn't like to think about it.

He glanced at the window and saw the peach of sunrise struggling to stand up over the horizon. That, accompanied by the tug he felt was enough to know it was time to work.

Merlin got out of bed and got dressed, his neckerchief sliding around his neck, smoothed down and straightened. When finished, he strode out of his room and headed to the kitchens for His Royal Pratness's breakfast.

He didn't acknowledge the presence of meandering Hawthorn Girls as he maneuvered around the freezing halls of the castle.

Remember the Rules.

He knocked on the door of Arthur's chambers, rubbing his chest lightly while he waited to be admitted. When the final 'Come In' was called, he opened the door and walked into his chambers.

Despite it being just past dawn, Arthur was already up. It was a habit that was becoming more frequent now, than it was at the start of his reign. The pressures had mounted with reports of Morgana, and her armies, in hiding, and the other concerns raised by the council and the Round Table. The lines on his face had deepened, which spoke loudly of his tiredness more than anything else. The tension in Arthur at Merlin's presence was evidenced by the tensed shoulders, and Merlin shoved away the slight hurt that manifested when he saw it. What else was he expecting?

"Ahh, Merlin!" Arthur said, looking up from his scroll to see who has come in. He appeared to be happy to see Merlin, if his smile was anything to go by, but Merlin knew him too well. He knew what he had done and its consequences more than anyone.

"On time for once?" Arthur asked, slightly mocking.

Merlin kept his face bland, as was rote. "Your breakfast, sire," He murmured deferentially.

The shoulders tightened more.

"Set it on the table, I'll eat it in a minute. Pour some wine would you?"

Merlin inclined his head, while inwardly pursing his lips. Wine and Arthur were not a good combination, in any situation. Especially with a council meeting this morning. It was the reason he would want it, liquid courage, but it would hardly incite any sound judgement. And those councilmen could be so tedious and boring. It was like they walked around with a backboard, or something stuck up their ass. No. This wouldn't do.

As Merlin poured the wine his eyes flashed and the watered down wine hit the bottom of the goblet. He moved away when Arthur finished with the scrolls and sat down. Merlin walked over to tidy up the desk, and knew immediately when Arthur discovered the wine. He felt the eyes calculating him intently, and he shivered minutely.

"Weak wine, today Merlin," Arthur said lightly with a dark glint in his eye. Not pleased then. Merlin slightly flinched at the ache that started to act up at his words, and then turned to his master, keeping his eyes on the floor.

He glanced up as he answered, "Bad berries, mi 'lord." Cheeky. Playful. Mischievous. Facade Broken.

"Merlin"

The word was a warning, but light, and he knew what Arthur wanted. But who cared what he wanted?

"Would you like me to fetch you more, sire?" he said. He wasn't going to give an inch.

He sighed in that way that almost makes Merlin give in makes him almost flinch, but he stays stoic. The perfect servant.

"Merlin, I've told you before I don't -"

"Would you like me to fetch you more, sire?" Merlin interrupted. He felt in no mood for a lecture, and by the way Arthur's face shuttered flat, it seemed he was in no mood for Merlin's attitude. It was happening more often lately, but Arthur didn't understand. His fealty was given. He did what he had to do.

Arthur calmly continued eating, paying no attention to Merlin, or his remark. He answered though, once finished.

"No, Merlin, it's alright. But the stable needs cleaning, the horse grooming, my armour polished, my sword sharpened, pay attention to any cracks, I have training today, and the clothes need taking to the laundry."

"Sire," he said dipping his head in acknowledgement.

"Oh, and my room needs cleaning as well. I trust that's enough to be getting on with?" Arthur's voice was pleasant, but his face hard and Merlin suddenly felt a pang for the old days. When Arthur would tease, and banter, and there wouldn't be this tension now that Merlin knew he caused. But it was necessary, and Arthur needed to be safe. Even from the secrets Merlin held deep.

"Of course, sire," He put in extra effort to make the word emotionless. It was almost worth it to see Arthur flinch. Almost.

"Splendid. Meet me on the training field when you are done, with my sword. And try to get there before midday; I want my training to be actually decent."

Merlin didn't respond, but nodded his head at the jab then added insult to injury and bowed when Arthur stalked out the room, with his back straight and puffed up like an insulted cat. It took so little to get him riled. He made sure he didn't look at the shadows that tripped him up when he went to collect the breakfast dishes. After all, there were no such things as faeries.

When Arthur strode onto the training fields the first thing he did was look for his manservant, and hoped that the idiot was late. But he wasn't. He was present, his back straight, head down, and standing just off to this side. If he didn't know that messy mop of a head of his, he'd of mistaken him for a normal, attentive servant. It was annoying.

But Arthur actually wanted to get some training in before his knights returned and he was confined for another several hours with debriefs, reports and tactics on what was going on at Camelot's borders. At HIS borders.

He smiled at that thought. They were his, this was his kingdom, and he was damned well going to keep his subjects safe from danger. They were his, and he cared for them. Even when they were distancing themselves in an attempt to ignore certain topics that needed to be talked about. He mentally prepared himself when he approached Merlin. His attitude was irritating at best and downright insolent at worst. He wanted his goofy, sarcastic manservant back, who didn't care for social rules, and wouldn't have bowed him out of a room, even at his most respectful.

That was complete insolence on Merlin's part, and he wasn't fooled. It was his version of an insult, and by god it actually hurt. It was a wonder he bothered to make friends in the first place. They knew all the best ways to strike you were it hurt most.

"Your sword, sire," Merlin offered.

Arthur just nodded his head and took the sword, then strode over towards the training knights. He tried to put the issue of Merlin away from his mind while he drilled, battered and conquered his knights, training them till they, and consequently himself, felt they were an inch away from succumbing to exhaustion and fainting on the fields. It was always therapeutic to train, and it cleared his mind till all that was left was thrust, parry, dodge, strike, and the repetitive movements helped to ground him, and focus him till there were no room for any stray thoughts to enter his head.

The downside of that was they all came flooding back the minute he saw Merlin. He groaned inwardly, then grew determined. If Merlin wanted to be awkward about this, then fine. But as far as Arthur was concerned, there was no need to go as far as Merlin had gone. It was a perfectly valid request, and if Merlin was blowing this out of proportion, then Arthur would just have to be firm. He would also have to get Merlin to open up more about his little secret, because he got the feeling there was a lot more to his little jaunts, tavern visits and misleading lies then first seemed. Easier said than done.

But Arthur was determined. 'I will get him to talk,' he thought as he got up from where he had been resting, to rally the knights for another bout, the groans of the men audible, but he ignored them. 'I'll get him to talk.'

He then raised his sword, threw all thoughts of Merlin out of his mind and attacked.

The return of the knights was a welcome distraction from the monotony of the days in Camelot. Ever since that day when Arthur determined to get Merlin to talk, there had been a distinct increase in subservience from Merlin that Arthur didn't like one bit.

Every time Arthur tried to get Merlin to share his adventures, his secrets, he was met with a blank look and a "Is there anything else, sire?" In turn, this made Arthur feel even more annoyed at Merlin's evasiveness than he was already, and he became harder and colder towards him, even if he was trying to get Merlin to just talk to him.

It resulted in him being more snappish and demanding, and Merlin being even more submissive in retaliation. He almost wanted to give in this attempt at getting to know his manservant and just go back to ignoring his magic.

But his conscience just couldn't do that. It was screaming at him that magic is wrong, that Merlin was evil because he possessed it, but that was just unthinkable and frankly ridiculous, as Merlin was as evil as a fluffy kitten (which means very little) but he could be a vicious little bugger when he wanted to be, and puffed up his tail when annoyed. But he just felt that there was something Merlin wasn't telling him. Add that to the obvious use of magic Merlin was doing, and Arthur was afraid Merlin was going to get hurt. That Arthur might be forced to hurt him, kill him, because no matter if Arthur was ignoring the blatant use of magic by Merlin, as long as it was subtle, the laws of Camelot still stood, and magic was punishable by death.

Arthur feared the day he might have to build the pyre and burn Merlin alive to please Camelot.

He had to shake those thoughts of fire and screams from his mind as he strode in all his finery to greet his returning knights, with Merlin at the requisite two steps behind and slightly to the right, as all servants did. Arthur purposefully didn't look at him.

There had been previous reports of disappearances and strange happenings in the night around Camelot's border, and he had sent patrols out to investigate. Every appearance of magic had to be investigated, even if it was a hoax. He felt he was fairer than Uther, his father though, for he didn't see evil behind every magic act and he didn't act until he had indisputable evidence. He tried to be fair. He felt he succeeded even though the guilt of what he did weighed down on him when he looked at Merlin during executions. He made sure Merlin was otherwise occupied these days. It spared him the feeling of blood on his hands. Arthur sometimes imagined he could see it dripping to the floor. Such was the burdens of a king.

The sound of beating hooves broke through his morbidness, and he was brought back out his musings. The knights, his Round Table, galloped into the courtyard, and came to a stop in front of the king. The manes of the majestic horses flew around them as they clambered neatly off the backs of the horses, handing the reigns to the stable hands that came out to take them away.

"Princess!" came the greeting from the rugged knight. His hair was still long, to his shoulders, and he the air of amusement around him, accompanied by an ever present grin. He privately bet that as soon as he was done with debriefing his knights, he would be at the tavern trying to sway the pretty tavern girls into his bed. Sometimes Gwaine was ever so predictable. Which was, to be honest, something he needed right now, with Merlin acting the way he was.

The knight swaggered up to the steps, joined by his best friend, Percival, who was as quiet as ever.

"Gwaine, I've asked you not to call me that!"

"Ah, but sire," was the mocking reply, sarcasm literally dripping from the polite form of address. Merlin would have been proud, if he was acting normally. "You've got to be reminded of your humble beginnings, right, Elyan?"

"Aye, sire," said the grinning knight, coming up to stand beside Gwaine at the foot of the steps. "Can't have you gaining too big head can we?"

"Now, now," Leon said, as he finished sorting out his packs from the horse. "Leave the king alone. It's not his fault that his head is outside of normal proportions. Hello, Merlin!" he greeted.

Merlin inclined his head towards the knight, but didn't say anything, and kept his eyes respectfully a few degrees over the shoulders of the knights. Arthur stifled an exasperated sigh. The knights just looked confused.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" Gwaine asked. Normally his friend was rambling Arthur's ear of in whispers and joking with the rest. He had a feeling there was something off, and his posture wasn't helping. It looked like something one of the boot-licking servants he was always assigned did, and it was freaky to be seeing Merlin bowing his head to anybody. Just plain wrong, in Gwaine's opinion.

"Perfectly fine, Sir Gwaine," Merlin said softly.

The concerned looks didn't abate, and Arthur decided to end it here, before the knights did anything stupid. He sent Merlin away to do the rest of his chores, and gestured the knights to follow him. He directed them towards the council chambers, determined to get the debrief over and done with before anything else. He deflected any concerns about Merlin, citing that 'The walls have ears', a phrase apt, but which also pushed him further into a bad mood as it was a phrase Merlin had said back before the revelation. It was not a good start to the day.